Tuesday, 13th May 1997
CRF for the Morning Mail First-In-Man Tolerance Studies Brief questionnaire. Cross as many boxes as you like. Please fill in and return at your leisure.
I think the morning e-mail from B should be:
[ ] More about real issues concerning people today
[ ] More esoteric and "bollockified"
[ ] Less desparate in its effort to entertain
[ ] Less self-conscious, not that it is... is it?
[ ] A reflection of modern political and theological thought
[ ] Sautéed in a white wine and tarragon sauce, 30 mins gas mark 6
[ ] Scrapped and the writer torn apart by pigeons
Mornings in general should:
[ ] Start much later and include more coffee
[ ] Begin with the company song and five minutes' calasthenics
[ ] Be scrapped in favour of long lie-ins and 30-hour weeks
[ ] Go on forever, I can't get out of that bed early enough
[ ] Do my ironing and walk the dog
[ ] Be personified
[ ] Not be given the vote
I found this questionnaire:
[ ] Informative and illuminating
[ ] Time-consuming and risibly unfunny
[ ] Full of long words I couldn't undertsand
[ ] In my inbox a couple of minutes ago
[ ] Sleeping rough by the A40
[ ] So I get to keep it! MINE MINE MINE!
[ ] Where? There on the stair! Where on the stair? Right there!
[ ] Too long
[ ] Too short.
[B]
Friday, 28 March 2008
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Tell You Wicked Lies
Monday, 12th May 1997
Mmm, lovely coffee. Well, I must say that I've had a wonderful evening; the food was exquisite and the games, well, I don't think any of us have enjoyed ourselves this much in a long while. We must do this again some time. Actually, while you're there, could you unzip the back of my grope suit? I think I'm about ready to be unharnessed now...
Good to see that the popular media are frothing at the mouth again. This time they've singled out Manchester United FC to blame for child labour sweat-shops in India. Cah. Let's face it, none of us possess a wardrobe/chest of drawers/pile on the floor which is free from garments unslaved over by overworked, callous-fingered infants on 6p an hour, so we're all guilty. Hey, and even Anita Roddick bathes fortnightly in the blood of slaughtered schoolchildren, so nobody's perfect. And don't tell me it's too early to be degenerating to that level of sordid pseudo-polemic gratuitous nonsense: it's NEVER too early. Club me a seal, I'll be home for breakfast.
Coming up: Mother Theresa Fingered For Nagasaki.
B
Mmm, lovely coffee. Well, I must say that I've had a wonderful evening; the food was exquisite and the games, well, I don't think any of us have enjoyed ourselves this much in a long while. We must do this again some time. Actually, while you're there, could you unzip the back of my grope suit? I think I'm about ready to be unharnessed now...
Good to see that the popular media are frothing at the mouth again. This time they've singled out Manchester United FC to blame for child labour sweat-shops in India. Cah. Let's face it, none of us possess a wardrobe/chest of drawers/pile on the floor which is free from garments unslaved over by overworked, callous-fingered infants on 6p an hour, so we're all guilty. Hey, and even Anita Roddick bathes fortnightly in the blood of slaughtered schoolchildren, so nobody's perfect. And don't tell me it's too early to be degenerating to that level of sordid pseudo-polemic gratuitous nonsense: it's NEVER too early. Club me a seal, I'll be home for breakfast.
Coming up: Mother Theresa Fingered For Nagasaki.
B
Wednesday, 26 March 2008
Stranger Things
Friday, 9th May 1997
The dream dissolves into a warm, pink darkness and you realise that the morning is in your room.
Eyes open to see the curtains frothing light from through the window, colouring the walls and furniture with muted versions of their own.
Climbing out it's silently warm with that early post-night tang of chill clinging to your skin.
Autopilot on.
You shuffle to the window, pull back the edge of the curtain and peek out on a freshly-minted summer's day. Cloudless dusty blue, friendly hues, a potential joy to be in and of, light bouncing off itself to illuminate the shadows. This could be a really great day.
But first, coffee.
B
The dream dissolves into a warm, pink darkness and you realise that the morning is in your room.
Eyes open to see the curtains frothing light from through the window, colouring the walls and furniture with muted versions of their own.
Climbing out it's silently warm with that early post-night tang of chill clinging to your skin.
Autopilot on.
You shuffle to the window, pull back the edge of the curtain and peek out on a freshly-minted summer's day. Cloudless dusty blue, friendly hues, a potential joy to be in and of, light bouncing off itself to illuminate the shadows. This could be a really great day.
But first, coffee.
B
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Howling Wolfpack In Formation Appear
Thursday, 8th May 1997
So there's a suicide cult called "Heaven's Gate". That's like naming your terrorist organisation "Ishtar" or "The Last Action Hero". If you got that, give yourself a pat on the back. If you found it funny, give yourself electro-convulsive therapy.
Bloke goes into a bar with this girl wearing nothing but a pair of red stilettoes, leather peaked cap and carrying a whip. The barman says to the bloke, "you could've put some pants on."
Girl goes into this bloke with a bar, knocks him flat and pinches his wallet. Not so much a joke, more a cautionary tale.
That's as far as I can remember, the alarm came on at that point, so I had to go to sleep.
b
So there's a suicide cult called "Heaven's Gate". That's like naming your terrorist organisation "Ishtar" or "The Last Action Hero". If you got that, give yourself a pat on the back. If you found it funny, give yourself electro-convulsive therapy.
Bloke goes into a bar with this girl wearing nothing but a pair of red stilettoes, leather peaked cap and carrying a whip. The barman says to the bloke, "you could've put some pants on."
Girl goes into this bloke with a bar, knocks him flat and pinches his wallet. Not so much a joke, more a cautionary tale.
That's as far as I can remember, the alarm came on at that point, so I had to go to sleep.
b
Monday, 24 March 2008
The Why of All
Wednesday, 7th May 1997
the why of all ( two haikus )
You don't want to know.
Believe me.
It's a long story.
Some other time.
Not here.
Not just yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
See me then.
Don't hold your breath.
B
the why of all ( two haikus )
You don't want to know.
Believe me.
It's a long story.
Some other time.
Not here.
Not just yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
See me then.
Don't hold your breath.
B
Friday, 21 March 2008
You're Standing On My Neck
Tuesday, 6th May 1997
Pyramid clown
With the ears hanging down
You're moving too fast for the sea
Somersault high
Custard pie in the sky
Assaulted with impunity
Carry my car made of foam
To the dark circus outside of town
Pyramid clown, run around
On your own
Pyramid clown
Shoot the audience down
A toy gun, real artillery
Play elephants
Polka-dot baggy pants
There's nobody paying to sea
Laugh till you scream oh for sky
Where the lights have no business to shine
Pyramid clown, you are mine
Till you die.
B
Pyramid clown
With the ears hanging down
You're moving too fast for the sea
Somersault high
Custard pie in the sky
Assaulted with impunity
Carry my car made of foam
To the dark circus outside of town
Pyramid clown, run around
On your own
Pyramid clown
Shoot the audience down
A toy gun, real artillery
Play elephants
Polka-dot baggy pants
There's nobody paying to sea
Laugh till you scream oh for sky
Where the lights have no business to shine
Pyramid clown, you are mine
Till you die.
B
Thursday, 20 March 2008
The Streets Run Red
Friday, 2nd May 1997
Wow. Labour landslide.
I didn't have the first blind clue that that was going to happen. If you always miss the news, never read the papers, and only catch five minutes of "current affairs" every day on popular radio, there is rather a lot that can take you by surprise.
And thank arse it did. Democracy been well and truly exercised. Not only did Michael Portillo, David Mellor and Gyles Brandreth lose their seats, but word has it that Paul Daniels might emigrate. Magic!
Order me a bus of Dianas and a Singapore Sling...
B
Wow. Labour landslide.
I didn't have the first blind clue that that was going to happen. If you always miss the news, never read the papers, and only catch five minutes of "current affairs" every day on popular radio, there is rather a lot that can take you by surprise.
And thank arse it did. Democracy been well and truly exercised. Not only did Michael Portillo, David Mellor and Gyles Brandreth lose their seats, but word has it that Paul Daniels might emigrate. Magic!
Order me a bus of Dianas and a Singapore Sling...
B
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Don't Be Happy, Just Worry
Thursday, 1st May 1997
Having no qualified opinion of my own regarding British politics (apart from "it's all bollocks, innit?") I panicked this morning and bought The Economist out of terror. And frankly, after reading the thing on the train, I still don't care. But not voting is not an option; we must all exercise our democratic right to support whichever bunch of losers we feel is less incompetent and malignant than the others, in the knowledge and fear that although the great undecided want to register a protest vote for change, they won't.
"I believe in coyotes and time as an abstract; golden words make practice, practice makes perfect, perfect is a fault and fault lines change; I believe my humour's wearing thin and change is what I believe in."
So in the spirit of the masses tonight I will cast my importantly insignificant vote and wake up tomorrow in a strange country, where I will continue to buy my pop music, listen to my comics, read my food and eat into the future.
B[X]
Having no qualified opinion of my own regarding British politics (apart from "it's all bollocks, innit?") I panicked this morning and bought The Economist out of terror. And frankly, after reading the thing on the train, I still don't care. But not voting is not an option; we must all exercise our democratic right to support whichever bunch of losers we feel is less incompetent and malignant than the others, in the knowledge and fear that although the great undecided want to register a protest vote for change, they won't.
"I believe in coyotes and time as an abstract; golden words make practice, practice makes perfect, perfect is a fault and fault lines change; I believe my humour's wearing thin and change is what I believe in."
So in the spirit of the masses tonight I will cast my importantly insignificant vote and wake up tomorrow in a strange country, where I will continue to buy my pop music, listen to my comics, read my food and eat into the future.
B[X]
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Geek Leeks
Wednesday, 30th April 1997
"Twin Town" - brilliant film. Sex, drugs and karaoke - the lot. "I Will Survive" finally gets the critical judgement I feel should be bestowed upon any cow who sings it, except perhaps Gloria Gaynor. And whatever you think about the Welsh - well, it confirms it, really. So a big thumbs up, under water, for twenty seconds.
Totally lost it on the train today standing up from my seat, my balance went completely and I went crashing head-first into some poor woman's lap. Fortunately she was embarrassed enough for the both of us, so I escaped unshamed. However, lest retribution be cast upon me from high, let it be known that I am suffering my own private hell of humiliation, and offer up this simple cautionary tale to you as penance.
Right, got to soak the cactus "as they say".
Keep on persevering
B
"Twin Town" - brilliant film. Sex, drugs and karaoke - the lot. "I Will Survive" finally gets the critical judgement I feel should be bestowed upon any cow who sings it, except perhaps Gloria Gaynor. And whatever you think about the Welsh - well, it confirms it, really. So a big thumbs up, under water, for twenty seconds.
Totally lost it on the train today standing up from my seat, my balance went completely and I went crashing head-first into some poor woman's lap. Fortunately she was embarrassed enough for the both of us, so I escaped unshamed. However, lest retribution be cast upon me from high, let it be known that I am suffering my own private hell of humiliation, and offer up this simple cautionary tale to you as penance.
Right, got to soak the cactus "as they say".
Keep on persevering
B
Monday, 17 March 2008
Nobody Gets Hurt If They Don't Act Funny
Tuesday, 29th April 1997
Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.
"Hello, my name is Joan Polglase, and I've been robbing banks, building societies and other financial holding establishments for the past twenty years.
"Like all hobbies, mine got started by accident when a friend at poly in Coventry suggested we subsidised our grants with a crime spree. This was the year of the Pistols, the Clash, and to a lesser extent the Boney M - there was a mad spirit of freedom and anarchy in the air, and I'd incinerated my brassieres during freshers' week. Bank robbery seemed like more of a personal form of expression. We held up the Barclays Bank in Coventry town centre with a replica German Luger and a sawn-off double- barrelled shotgun one of the local farmers had been using to mix the swill. Both totally harmless, but that's essentially the joy of urban terrorism, really, isn't it?
"Our crime spree came to an abrupt halt halfway through the second job when Zim, my partner, dropped the sawn-off on his foot. To our shock and surprise, the thing went off with an almighty blast and shot a hole in the ceiling, causing us to scarper, screaming, much to the bemusement of the people lying face down on the floor. Fortunately that evening we were off for our two-month interior design placement to Barcelona, it had all blown over by the time we got back.
"I left Coventry Polytechnic with an upper second in ID with Arch., and a suitcase full of used and unused twenties and tens. Pretty good start for a graduate."
B
Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.
"Hello, my name is Joan Polglase, and I've been robbing banks, building societies and other financial holding establishments for the past twenty years.
"Like all hobbies, mine got started by accident when a friend at poly in Coventry suggested we subsidised our grants with a crime spree. This was the year of the Pistols, the Clash, and to a lesser extent the Boney M - there was a mad spirit of freedom and anarchy in the air, and I'd incinerated my brassieres during freshers' week. Bank robbery seemed like more of a personal form of expression. We held up the Barclays Bank in Coventry town centre with a replica German Luger and a sawn-off double- barrelled shotgun one of the local farmers had been using to mix the swill. Both totally harmless, but that's essentially the joy of urban terrorism, really, isn't it?
"Our crime spree came to an abrupt halt halfway through the second job when Zim, my partner, dropped the sawn-off on his foot. To our shock and surprise, the thing went off with an almighty blast and shot a hole in the ceiling, causing us to scarper, screaming, much to the bemusement of the people lying face down on the floor. Fortunately that evening we were off for our two-month interior design placement to Barcelona, it had all blown over by the time we got back.
"I left Coventry Polytechnic with an upper second in ID with Arch., and a suitcase full of used and unused twenties and tens. Pretty good start for a graduate."
B
Friday, 14 March 2008
The Week Belches Into Life
Monday, 28th April 1997
Monday screams in on thin leather wings,
tearing the air,
scaring chair-warmers everywhere.
Weekends end, bleak weeks shriek awake,
taking the biscuit and having the cake,
making the day blaze,
phasing you, not pleasing you. Teasing you
from dreams of strange scenes,
welcomer than the familiar,
shaking you up
and out of the door for more of the same;
working grins, grim, forever things.
Monday begins.
Screaming in on thin leather wings.
-
B
Monday screams in on thin leather wings,
tearing the air,
scaring chair-warmers everywhere.
Weekends end, bleak weeks shriek awake,
taking the biscuit and having the cake,
making the day blaze,
phasing you, not pleasing you. Teasing you
from dreams of strange scenes,
welcomer than the familiar,
shaking you up
and out of the door for more of the same;
working grins, grim, forever things.
Monday begins.
Screaming in on thin leather wings.
-
B
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Lazy Diamond-Studded Flunkies
Friday, 25th April 1997
"Hello. My name is Ralph Theft, and I collect rocks and pebbles. I've been collecting since I went on holiday with my parents to Selsey when I was seven, and over the many years my collection has grown and grown. What I like about rocks and pebbles is the way that they've been around for millions of years and yet we take them for granted.
"This is one of my favourites. I found it on a beach in Margate in 1987, whilst on one of my frequent rock-and-pebble collecting holidays. It is almost perfectly round, and has been worn away by the tides and the elements over millions of years until it is now almost perfectly round. I like the yellowy-browny colour, it is almost like gold except not shiny. It is one of my favourites. On this one you can see the imprint of a fossilised shrimp. This one over here is green, and there's a hole in it. I'm not sure what it's proper name is, I think it's in Latin.
"Yes, it does take up a lot of space, haha. My friends used to say I was a bit mad, collecting 'old stones', but as they got to know me better they got used to my hobby. On the few occasions I see them briefly I try to bring them up to date on my collection, but I don't really think they're interested. Still, it gives me a lot of free time.
"Collecting pebbles and rocks has given me lots and lots of pleasure over the years. One day I hope to marry a lady who also likes rocks and pebbles and have children who I can share my collection with."
-
b
"Hello. My name is Ralph Theft, and I collect rocks and pebbles. I've been collecting since I went on holiday with my parents to Selsey when I was seven, and over the many years my collection has grown and grown. What I like about rocks and pebbles is the way that they've been around for millions of years and yet we take them for granted.
"This is one of my favourites. I found it on a beach in Margate in 1987, whilst on one of my frequent rock-and-pebble collecting holidays. It is almost perfectly round, and has been worn away by the tides and the elements over millions of years until it is now almost perfectly round. I like the yellowy-browny colour, it is almost like gold except not shiny. It is one of my favourites. On this one you can see the imprint of a fossilised shrimp. This one over here is green, and there's a hole in it. I'm not sure what it's proper name is, I think it's in Latin.
"Yes, it does take up a lot of space, haha. My friends used to say I was a bit mad, collecting 'old stones', but as they got to know me better they got used to my hobby. On the few occasions I see them briefly I try to bring them up to date on my collection, but I don't really think they're interested. Still, it gives me a lot of free time.
"Collecting pebbles and rocks has given me lots and lots of pleasure over the years. One day I hope to marry a lady who also likes rocks and pebbles and have children who I can share my collection with."
-
b
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
"I Feel Unusual"
Thursday, 24th April 1997
63-year old woman gives birth to baby after lying to doctor about age in order to receive fertility treatment. Doctor claims he didn't know, and gives relaxed, well-choreographed interviews explaining that the woman claimed to be 53. Own up, doc: you knew, she knew, you got her to say she lied so you wouldn't get disbarred and garner media savvy, you cynical connard. Bet you get your receptionist to fill out your CRFs, too.
Meh. Mr Grumpy is with us and must have put his scowly-trousers on this morning. Need coffee and inspiration.
Been reading Richard E Grant's film diaries; I'm about thirty pages in and already it's a triumph of the human spirit; God knows what kind of ubermensch he becomes at the end of it. He'll be glad to know that somewhere in Uxbridge there's a dying cactus named for him. And unfortunately, there is no cure for cactus frostbite, but as Reg has refused treatment (wishing to shrivel with dignity) what can you do?
The Khoi Kalahari Bushmen have a philosophy: THIS IS A DREAM THAT IS DREAMING YOU. How is you dream going?
Sweet livings,
B
63-year old woman gives birth to baby after lying to doctor about age in order to receive fertility treatment. Doctor claims he didn't know, and gives relaxed, well-choreographed interviews explaining that the woman claimed to be 53. Own up, doc: you knew, she knew, you got her to say she lied so you wouldn't get disbarred and garner media savvy, you cynical connard. Bet you get your receptionist to fill out your CRFs, too.
Meh. Mr Grumpy is with us and must have put his scowly-trousers on this morning. Need coffee and inspiration.
Been reading Richard E Grant's film diaries; I'm about thirty pages in and already it's a triumph of the human spirit; God knows what kind of ubermensch he becomes at the end of it. He'll be glad to know that somewhere in Uxbridge there's a dying cactus named for him. And unfortunately, there is no cure for cactus frostbite, but as Reg has refused treatment (wishing to shrivel with dignity) what can you do?
The Khoi Kalahari Bushmen have a philosophy: THIS IS A DREAM THAT IS DREAMING YOU. How is you dream going?
Sweet livings,
B
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
St Rentokill
Wednesday, 23rd April 1997
Happy St George's Day, and a belated "shalom" for the beginning of Pesach yesterday.
Today is the day that the country sets aside to commemorate a medieval knight or something murdering a dragon. For this, a possibly apocryphal historical figure known only as George is beatified as a witness of Christ and is made the patron saint of England. Hunh? Isn't that a bit like being awarded a Nobel for weeding the garden?
While we're on the subject of dodgy saints, let us not forget that although St Patrick was a top missionary (don't even think it) and bringer of peace, he was made patron saint of Ireland for ridding the country of snakes. Duh? I must have missed something here...
St B
Happy St George's Day, and a belated "shalom" for the beginning of Pesach yesterday.
Today is the day that the country sets aside to commemorate a medieval knight or something murdering a dragon. For this, a possibly apocryphal historical figure known only as George is beatified as a witness of Christ and is made the patron saint of England. Hunh? Isn't that a bit like being awarded a Nobel for weeding the garden?
While we're on the subject of dodgy saints, let us not forget that although St Patrick was a top missionary (don't even think it) and bringer of peace, he was made patron saint of Ireland for ridding the country of snakes. Duh? I must have missed something here...
St B
Monday, 10 March 2008
Just Like Beggars Canyon
Tuesday, 22nd April 1997
Cripes criminy, snakes alive, lawks a mercy and spung, finally got round to seeing "Star Wars" last night. Loved the way they made the bolted-on parts fit in by giving the effects a "grainy" quality, and the fact that the Jabba scene was obviously originally replaced by the "Caught by Greedo" scene, as the dialogue was almost identical, plus Greedo (last seen being shot dead) is visible on guard by the entrance to the ship. And did they change the first shot of the Everyone-Gets-A-Medal scene? (where's me anorak...)
In this workaday world, it's heartening to hear of one man earning £20,000 for just over five minutes' work. No, not the snooker player who made the 147 break last night, the chairman of British Gas! Ha ha ha ha ha no but seriously folks, ha ha, no, really, stop throwing stuff...
Today, ask lots of important questions that have been bugging you for ages.
B
Cripes criminy, snakes alive, lawks a mercy and spung, finally got round to seeing "Star Wars" last night. Loved the way they made the bolted-on parts fit in by giving the effects a "grainy" quality, and the fact that the Jabba scene was obviously originally replaced by the "Caught by Greedo" scene, as the dialogue was almost identical, plus Greedo (last seen being shot dead) is visible on guard by the entrance to the ship. And did they change the first shot of the Everyone-Gets-A-Medal scene? (where's me anorak...)
In this workaday world, it's heartening to hear of one man earning £20,000 for just over five minutes' work. No, not the snooker player who made the 147 break last night, the chairman of British Gas! Ha ha ha ha ha no but seriously folks, ha ha, no, really, stop throwing stuff...
Today, ask lots of important questions that have been bugging you for ages.
B
Friday, 7 March 2008
The People On The Edge Of The Night
Monday, 21st April 1997
Where one man can stand in defence of his right to be free, there can a country be founded. Where one voice can soar on eagle's wings without fear of impediment, there can be freedom found. And where one nation can march with pride to exercise their right in the future of their country's government, there, is democracy.
So here we are, less than three weeks from the single-most important democratic and political event in the country's recent history, and I couldn't be less excited. I can't remember if I voted in the last election (I'd like to think I did, but 1992 was a blur), and I know I'm going to this year, but who could you possibly want to vote for? They're all politicians. Career power dilletantes and wannabees, polished figureheads, echoing promises, raising expectations, depressing hope. A system which lacks faith in itself that has lost the faith of those for whom it was set up.
There seems to be no choice any more. Change is dressed as a turn for the worse, a waltzing rawbones in rags, cackling, waiting to fade as we plod on into another inevitable four years. And we are the lucky ones, fortunate that we are not in the grip of revolutionary fervour, either our own or someone else's, that robs us of the right to chose for ourselves. But what choice?
Well, it won't stop me from voting. Think I'll vote for myself.
B
Where one man can stand in defence of his right to be free, there can a country be founded. Where one voice can soar on eagle's wings without fear of impediment, there can be freedom found. And where one nation can march with pride to exercise their right in the future of their country's government, there, is democracy.
So here we are, less than three weeks from the single-most important democratic and political event in the country's recent history, and I couldn't be less excited. I can't remember if I voted in the last election (I'd like to think I did, but 1992 was a blur), and I know I'm going to this year, but who could you possibly want to vote for? They're all politicians. Career power dilletantes and wannabees, polished figureheads, echoing promises, raising expectations, depressing hope. A system which lacks faith in itself that has lost the faith of those for whom it was set up.
There seems to be no choice any more. Change is dressed as a turn for the worse, a waltzing rawbones in rags, cackling, waiting to fade as we plod on into another inevitable four years. And we are the lucky ones, fortunate that we are not in the grip of revolutionary fervour, either our own or someone else's, that robs us of the right to chose for ourselves. But what choice?
Well, it won't stop me from voting. Think I'll vote for myself.
B
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Teabags and Hairnets
Friday, 18th April 1997
What could possibly be the most overused and teeth-grindingly fatuous phrase that people tack on the end of a sentence when they feel self-conscious? A good candidate for the running is "as they say".
'I'm just going to pop out for a mo, "as they say"....'
or
'Shall we make tracks, "as they say"?'
Eeerk.
_
In the news today: scientists in Australia have discovered that drinking beer is good for you and prevents heart disease. They are currently working to prove that travelling around the world working in bars and talking about it all the bloody time stops hair loss, and are also developing a cure for piles through sheep shagging.
Meh, as they say.
B
What could possibly be the most overused and teeth-grindingly fatuous phrase that people tack on the end of a sentence when they feel self-conscious? A good candidate for the running is "as they say".
'I'm just going to pop out for a mo, "as they say"....'
or
'Shall we make tracks, "as they say"?'
Eeerk.
_
In the news today: scientists in Australia have discovered that drinking beer is good for you and prevents heart disease. They are currently working to prove that travelling around the world working in bars and talking about it all the bloody time stops hair loss, and are also developing a cure for piles through sheep shagging.
Meh, as they say.
B
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
An Horror of Rooms
Thursday, 17th April 1997
The only constant is change. That means, eventually, that the constant itself will change and we will be locked in a loop of familiarity and eventlessness. "Or is that just bollocks, Les?"
The most boring cab driver in the world lives down past the Old Bill pub off an alley in a fly-blown shed. Through the course of your journey he will mutter through his moustache in a thick pastoral Irish accent (the kind where you can usually only pick out the word "fock'n"), causing you to politely attune your hearing so as to facilitate understanding, until you realise that he's talking in detail about what he had for dinner in 1977. He's probably a really lovely bloke but he'll mumble the hind legs off of you.
Eat your greens. One day they'll be eating you.
B
The only constant is change. That means, eventually, that the constant itself will change and we will be locked in a loop of familiarity and eventlessness. "Or is that just bollocks, Les?"
The most boring cab driver in the world lives down past the Old Bill pub off an alley in a fly-blown shed. Through the course of your journey he will mutter through his moustache in a thick pastoral Irish accent (the kind where you can usually only pick out the word "fock'n"), causing you to politely attune your hearing so as to facilitate understanding, until you realise that he's talking in detail about what he had for dinner in 1977. He's probably a really lovely bloke but he'll mumble the hind legs off of you.
Eat your greens. One day they'll be eating you.
B
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
Mind Clippings
Wednesday, 16th April 1997
Integrity is intention in proportion to action.
What is the phrase "a congruent oxymoron"?
My cactus still has frost damage.
The universe is accidental, possibly even a mistake.
Is "is" is?
B...
Integrity is intention in proportion to action.
What is the phrase "a congruent oxymoron"?
My cactus still has frost damage.
The universe is accidental, possibly even a mistake.
Is "is" is?
B...
Monday, 3 March 2008
The Meaning & Explanation of Life In Under 300 Words
Tuesday, 15th April 1997
So let's get this straight. Life eventually occurs where extremes of heat brush against extremes of cold at very high pressures. Hence the highly specialised and evolved species of fish and ridiculously coloured invertebrates living at the bottom of the ocean near vents in the earth's crust since it all kicked off.
This is where we get our duality from, right? We split everything into night & day, black & white, men & women, good & evil, because we carry the genetic memory of our origins; that we were born from opposite extremes that by their nature were never meant to meet. Right. And there's the Vostok Sea which is some x-hundred metres beneath the Antarctic ice cap where living organisms have been found that are 500,000 years old a piece.
And there's the Movile caves in under a field in Romania (thanks Caroline); several caverns way underground spanning some 120 sq km, linked by an underground river, the only way to each of them is underwater; the atmosphere is poisoningly sulphourous, there is no light, and so far these two speliologist blokes have discovered 33 brand new life forms.
Know what that makes me think? That the meaning of life is to survive no matter what. Or where. By any means necessary. And that wherever there are temperature differences and solid/liquid conditions, say for example just about anywhere in the universe where there's stuff, life can, will, and evidently did pop into existence, find itself a rock to throw itself upon and cling on for enough millions of years of evolution until there are enough for one of them to send you this e-mail. So it's bound to happen. By accident.
But then you probably already knew that.
Keep on photosynthesising.
B
So let's get this straight. Life eventually occurs where extremes of heat brush against extremes of cold at very high pressures. Hence the highly specialised and evolved species of fish and ridiculously coloured invertebrates living at the bottom of the ocean near vents in the earth's crust since it all kicked off.
This is where we get our duality from, right? We split everything into night & day, black & white, men & women, good & evil, because we carry the genetic memory of our origins; that we were born from opposite extremes that by their nature were never meant to meet. Right. And there's the Vostok Sea which is some x-hundred metres beneath the Antarctic ice cap where living organisms have been found that are 500,000 years old a piece.
And there's the Movile caves in under a field in Romania (thanks Caroline); several caverns way underground spanning some 120 sq km, linked by an underground river, the only way to each of them is underwater; the atmosphere is poisoningly sulphourous, there is no light, and so far these two speliologist blokes have discovered 33 brand new life forms.
Know what that makes me think? That the meaning of life is to survive no matter what. Or where. By any means necessary. And that wherever there are temperature differences and solid/liquid conditions, say for example just about anywhere in the universe where there's stuff, life can, will, and evidently did pop into existence, find itself a rock to throw itself upon and cling on for enough millions of years of evolution until there are enough for one of them to send you this e-mail. So it's bound to happen. By accident.
But then you probably already knew that.
Keep on photosynthesising.
B
Friday, 29 February 2008
Wintering in Denial / Monthless Weekless
Monday, 14th April 1997
Good morning. Owing to a staff shortage and an unsuccessful recruiting drive, the world will be ending approximately 5,000 million years earlier than expected. After extensive review, quantifying and review of the data and available stats, it is the opinion of those involved that the world has grown beyond its capability to manage itself and will cease being cost-effective by the turn of the millennium, and that therefore a massive damage limitation exercise needs to be "instigated with immediate commencement". The termination of the earth has already begun in the southern hemisphere, and we hope that the new program will rapidly expedite this planet's demise with, we hope, almost brutal efficacy. On a lighter note, extrapolations of the process have been manipulated to create what our scientists call a "terminus zone" on the Greenwich meridian, and what this effectively means is that the world will end at the party in Trafalgar Square on New Years Eve. Sadly, control of the effect is hard to determine or fine-tune, so the climax of history could happen as early as 4.30pm. But by then, our people promise, no-one will give a monkeys anyway.
So sit back in your chairs, we'll plug 'em in.
B
Good morning. Owing to a staff shortage and an unsuccessful recruiting drive, the world will be ending approximately 5,000 million years earlier than expected. After extensive review, quantifying and review of the data and available stats, it is the opinion of those involved that the world has grown beyond its capability to manage itself and will cease being cost-effective by the turn of the millennium, and that therefore a massive damage limitation exercise needs to be "instigated with immediate commencement". The termination of the earth has already begun in the southern hemisphere, and we hope that the new program will rapidly expedite this planet's demise with, we hope, almost brutal efficacy. On a lighter note, extrapolations of the process have been manipulated to create what our scientists call a "terminus zone" on the Greenwich meridian, and what this effectively means is that the world will end at the party in Trafalgar Square on New Years Eve. Sadly, control of the effect is hard to determine or fine-tune, so the climax of history could happen as early as 4.30pm. But by then, our people promise, no-one will give a monkeys anyway.
So sit back in your chairs, we'll plug 'em in.
B
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Seven Chinese Brothers
Friday, 11th April 1997
Here's a fun little exercise. When you have a moment, just stop what you're doing. Move yourself back a little from your desk. Take a deep breath. Stretch. Then look at everything around you, the office, the people, your desk, your work. Count to 10 in your head as fast as you can without slurring any numbers and ask yourself, matter-of-factly; "why am I really doing all this?" See what you come up with, jot them down, as many as you can in the time you've allotted yourself. Get deep, figure out root causes. Look at the negative reasons and set them straight in your head, look at the positive ones and give yourself a pat on the back. Then go back to work. The day will seem to go much faster.
It's still officially morning, so this is still officially a morning message.
Eat drink and be merry, for tommorrow never comes.
B
p.s. SPACE FISH!
Here's a fun little exercise. When you have a moment, just stop what you're doing. Move yourself back a little from your desk. Take a deep breath. Stretch. Then look at everything around you, the office, the people, your desk, your work. Count to 10 in your head as fast as you can without slurring any numbers and ask yourself, matter-of-factly; "why am I really doing all this?" See what you come up with, jot them down, as many as you can in the time you've allotted yourself. Get deep, figure out root causes. Look at the negative reasons and set them straight in your head, look at the positive ones and give yourself a pat on the back. Then go back to work. The day will seem to go much faster.
It's still officially morning, so this is still officially a morning message.
Eat drink and be merry, for tommorrow never comes.
B
p.s. SPACE FISH!
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Strange News From Another Moon
Thursday, 10th April 1997
Photos from space probe Galileo confirm that under the thick layer of ice on the Jovian moon of Europa there is in fact an ocean. This ocean is warmed by volcanic action at the moon's core. This in turn, almost certainly, means life. Which, extrapolated over millions of years, means... SPACE FISH! Woohoo!
Other space news: a flare of poisonous electromagnetic gas caused by an explosion on the sun is heading this way at 2 million miles an hour and should be hitting the earth sometime this afternoon, knocking out satellites, radios and other such fun stuff. Meh.
It's time to take a moment out, folks, to contemplate your relative size and importance on a cosmic scale, and feel the resurgent knowledge of your mote-like insignificance weather your spirit.
SPACE FISH!!!!!!
B
Photos from space probe Galileo confirm that under the thick layer of ice on the Jovian moon of Europa there is in fact an ocean. This ocean is warmed by volcanic action at the moon's core. This in turn, almost certainly, means life. Which, extrapolated over millions of years, means... SPACE FISH! Woohoo!
Other space news: a flare of poisonous electromagnetic gas caused by an explosion on the sun is heading this way at 2 million miles an hour and should be hitting the earth sometime this afternoon, knocking out satellites, radios and other such fun stuff. Meh.
It's time to take a moment out, folks, to contemplate your relative size and importance on a cosmic scale, and feel the resurgent knowledge of your mote-like insignificance weather your spirit.
SPACE FISH!!!!!!
B
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Prick Features
Wednesday, 9th April 1997
Anybody got any tips for an ailing cactus? It's looking all peaky, probably just ailing from office conditions. As are we all, I suppose, but I've got a feeling cactii don't respond quite so well to lots of coffee and a good bitch.
Once again, thanks for the response. The NAME THAT CACTUS switchboard lit up almost immediately, I had to get celebrity e-mail operators (such as Ruth Madoc from TV's "Hi-de-hi") in to cope with the volume of suggestions.
Meh. It probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway. I'm calling it Reg.
And yes, I am aware of how sad it is to personify a plant and then go on to tell everyone about it. What can I say? We are all of us victims of circumstance.
B
Anybody got any tips for an ailing cactus? It's looking all peaky, probably just ailing from office conditions. As are we all, I suppose, but I've got a feeling cactii don't respond quite so well to lots of coffee and a good bitch.
Once again, thanks for the response. The NAME THAT CACTUS switchboard lit up almost immediately, I had to get celebrity e-mail operators (such as Ruth Madoc from TV's "Hi-de-hi") in to cope with the volume of suggestions.
Meh. It probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway. I'm calling it Reg.
And yes, I am aware of how sad it is to personify a plant and then go on to tell everyone about it. What can I say? We are all of us victims of circumstance.
B
Monday, 25 February 2008
Fatuous Little Tagnut
Tuesday, 8th April 1997
Words of wisdom? You'll be lucky. How about:
"Familiarity breeds contempt, but Bernard Matthews breeds turkeys."
Pfh.
-
I've inherited a large cactus. It's sat on the desk currently acting as a sunglasses caddy, and it looks mean as fark. What it doesn't have is a name, so here's a competition:
NAME THAT CACTUS!
The best suggestion wins a secret mystery prize. Anyone who suggests "Spike" gets a slap and will be sent to the back of the class for the duration of double English.
-
Your hair looks fabulous. Give yourself a pat on the back.
B
Words of wisdom? You'll be lucky. How about:
"Familiarity breeds contempt, but Bernard Matthews breeds turkeys."
Pfh.
-
I've inherited a large cactus. It's sat on the desk currently acting as a sunglasses caddy, and it looks mean as fark. What it doesn't have is a name, so here's a competition:
NAME THAT CACTUS!
The best suggestion wins a secret mystery prize. Anyone who suggests "Spike" gets a slap and will be sent to the back of the class for the duration of double English.
-
Your hair looks fabulous. Give yourself a pat on the back.
B
Friday, 22 February 2008
Howling Kaddishness
Monday, 7th April 1997
"I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness starving hysterical
Oh hell, it's the sixties..."
Big round of applause for the beat poet and writer Allen Ginsberg who, like contemporary William S Burroughs, surprised the hell out of everyone by living to a ripe old age despite abusing any number of proscribed pharmaceuticals. Allen Ginsberg, ladies and gentlemen,
dead at seventy this weekend!
The third leading light of the beat generation was of course Jack Kerouac who produced a number of largely incoherent yet well received and seminal books whilst running out on his wife and kids, eventually succumbing totally to alcoholism and dying a complete git.
I feel no shame in admitting that I began and gave up reading "On The Road" three times before purchasing the Penguin spoken word version read by the illustrious David Carradine. Let's hear it for the twentieth century.
B(t)
"I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness starving hysterical
Oh hell, it's the sixties..."
Big round of applause for the beat poet and writer Allen Ginsberg who, like contemporary William S Burroughs, surprised the hell out of everyone by living to a ripe old age despite abusing any number of proscribed pharmaceuticals. Allen Ginsberg, ladies and gentlemen,
dead at seventy this weekend!
The third leading light of the beat generation was of course Jack Kerouac who produced a number of largely incoherent yet well received and seminal books whilst running out on his wife and kids, eventually succumbing totally to alcoholism and dying a complete git.
I feel no shame in admitting that I began and gave up reading "On The Road" three times before purchasing the Penguin spoken word version read by the illustrious David Carradine. Let's hear it for the twentieth century.
B(t)
Thursday, 21 February 2008
You And Whose Army
Thursday, 3rd April 1997
Couldn't believe it. Picked up a bottle of Cotes du Rhone in a Parisien supermarket next to the Pompidou for the equivalent of about 70p, not expecting anything really, and only got round to drinking it last night. And it was gorgeous (insert over-effusive description here, containing at least the words "fruity", "full-bodied" and "satisfying"). And we only bought the one bottle. Bugger.
Save it, I've got a weak finish.
So it's Thursday 9.20am. It feels like Wednesday 8.20am. The Pentagon released a statement yesterday declaring that UFOs are arse. The programme announcer last night on Channel 4 was wearing a Go West t-shirt. None of this helps.
Send food and clothing
B
Couldn't believe it. Picked up a bottle of Cotes du Rhone in a Parisien supermarket next to the Pompidou for the equivalent of about 70p, not expecting anything really, and only got round to drinking it last night. And it was gorgeous (insert over-effusive description here, containing at least the words "fruity", "full-bodied" and "satisfying"). And we only bought the one bottle. Bugger.
Save it, I've got a weak finish.
So it's Thursday 9.20am. It feels like Wednesday 8.20am. The Pentagon released a statement yesterday declaring that UFOs are arse. The programme announcer last night on Channel 4 was wearing a Go West t-shirt. None of this helps.
Send food and clothing
B
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
What Mario Isn't Telling You
Wednesday, 2nd April 1997
A warm goodmorning from Workstation 42. Here in the comfort of a sterile environment, the tireless efforts of a tall, bearded graphic designer spool in colour from a nearby printer.
Slowly the machine runs and whirrs, rhythmically,
>click<>click<>click< ahhhrrr mmmmm...
lulling him into a trans-hypnotic trance state, where even the slightest suggestion can induce extreme reactions.
Try it yourself. Stand by a busy printer or photocopier. Relax, and focus your thoughts on the rhythm of the machine. Then close your eyes and silently whisper to yourself, "I am an ostrich, I am an ostrich, I am an ostrich....", and within seconds you will assume the kinetic characteristics of an ostrich. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go and stick my head in a cup of coffee.
B
A warm goodmorning from Workstation 42. Here in the comfort of a sterile environment, the tireless efforts of a tall, bearded graphic designer spool in colour from a nearby printer.
Slowly the machine runs and whirrs, rhythmically,
>click<>click<>click< ahhhrrr mmmmm...
lulling him into a trans-hypnotic trance state, where even the slightest suggestion can induce extreme reactions.
Try it yourself. Stand by a busy printer or photocopier. Relax, and focus your thoughts on the rhythm of the machine. Then close your eyes and silently whisper to yourself, "I am an ostrich, I am an ostrich, I am an ostrich....", and within seconds you will assume the kinetic characteristics of an ostrich. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go and stick my head in a cup of coffee.
B
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
Whiplash Killed The Silver Son
Tuesday, 1st April 1997
I come back from Easter holiday to the newly refurbished downstairs of Pharma Balimo and my new desk. Everything is as it should be; the splendour of order, the freedom of movement, the total lack of panic and disorder honeys the air with calm and peace.
April Fool! Welcome to Pandemonium. Oh alright, it's not that bad. Actually it's rather nice, the blue dividers and the beech tabletops, and try as I might I cannot get my desk in a mess. Everything works okay, so what have I got to complain about? Nothing. I'm just like that.
Hope your weekend was long and lovely. Mmmm. Right, I'll shut up now.
#B^{)}
I come back from Easter holiday to the newly refurbished downstairs of Pharma Balimo and my new desk. Everything is as it should be; the splendour of order, the freedom of movement, the total lack of panic and disorder honeys the air with calm and peace.
April Fool! Welcome to Pandemonium. Oh alright, it's not that bad. Actually it's rather nice, the blue dividers and the beech tabletops, and try as I might I cannot get my desk in a mess. Everything works okay, so what have I got to complain about? Nothing. I'm just like that.
Hope your weekend was long and lovely. Mmmm. Right, I'll shut up now.
#B^{)}
Monday, 18 February 2008
Hand Me My Nose Ring, Show Me The Mosh Pit
Thursday, 27th March 1997
I couldn't be bothered to pack all my stuff into boxes to be moved downstairs, so I'm burning the whole lot and starting again. It's causing a bit of heat, so I've smashed one of the windows in the lightwell to let the air in. All part of my professional office refurb training, folks.
Everyone's very "cazh" here at Pharma Balimo today, the place is awash with soft cotton and muted earth tones, it's the last day of term again and old B-ster here totally didn't remember. Not only did I come in in uniform, I forgot my LCD Donkey Kong and Ker-Plunk!. Bugger. Anyone for pogs?
"Jerry Maguire": Oscar-nominee Tom Cruise in a performance that guaranteed him not to actually win. Good but not outstanding. Nice film, cute kid, go Cuba, yadda yadda yadda. What really spoiled it for us was the moron Harrow staff banging the door open every ten minutes so we could hear them talking outside, wanndering in and out and clattering their dustpans, but then if they hadn't done that we wouldn't've got our money back, so it's swings and roundabouts really.
B (SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!)
I couldn't be bothered to pack all my stuff into boxes to be moved downstairs, so I'm burning the whole lot and starting again. It's causing a bit of heat, so I've smashed one of the windows in the lightwell to let the air in. All part of my professional office refurb training, folks.
Everyone's very "cazh" here at Pharma Balimo today, the place is awash with soft cotton and muted earth tones, it's the last day of term again and old B-ster here totally didn't remember. Not only did I come in in uniform, I forgot my LCD Donkey Kong and Ker-Plunk!. Bugger. Anyone for pogs?
"Jerry Maguire": Oscar-nominee Tom Cruise in a performance that guaranteed him not to actually win. Good but not outstanding. Nice film, cute kid, go Cuba, yadda yadda yadda. What really spoiled it for us was the moron Harrow staff banging the door open every ten minutes so we could hear them talking outside, wanndering in and out and clattering their dustpans, but then if they hadn't done that we wouldn't've got our money back, so it's swings and roundabouts really.
B (SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!)
Friday, 15 February 2008
He'd Like To Come And See Us But He Thinks He'll Blow Our Minds
Tuesday, 25th March 1997
Saw a comet clearly last night for the first time. We stood out in the street pointing it out to each other like it was the end of the world, trying very hard to remain unimpressed. It looked like a star with a blurry thumbprint on it. Still very beautiful though. Does anyone know anything about it? I don't watch the news or read papers, so I know Barry White about anything, me. Constant state of surprise.
I didn't stay up to watch the Oscars last night, but I feel like I did. And how come Michael Jackson's named his son Prince? Surely a symbol shaped like a rattle would've been far more appropriate.
The English Patient? Of course we are.
B
Saw a comet clearly last night for the first time. We stood out in the street pointing it out to each other like it was the end of the world, trying very hard to remain unimpressed. It looked like a star with a blurry thumbprint on it. Still very beautiful though. Does anyone know anything about it? I don't watch the news or read papers, so I know Barry White about anything, me. Constant state of surprise.
I didn't stay up to watch the Oscars last night, but I feel like I did. And how come Michael Jackson's named his son Prince? Surely a symbol shaped like a rattle would've been far more appropriate.
The English Patient? Of course we are.
B
Thursday, 14 February 2008
Strange News from Another Star
Friday, 21st March 1997
One of the major US tobacco companies has made history by becoming the first to admit that smoking causes cancer and that nicotine is addictive. Expect the following statements over the next few months:
BNFL: "Our nuclear power stations cause leukaemia clusters in local communities."
Esso: "Our fossil fuels are evaporating the ozone layer."
Coca-Cola: "Our secret ingredient is tar."
KFC: "Our secret ingredient is asbestos."
FBI: "All the conspiracy theories about us are true. Except the ones about Elvis."
Tate & Lyle: "Your teeth will fall out."
Disney: "Our founder had a sexual fascination for domestic animals, hence a talking mouse in body-hugging dungarees."
Microsoft: "All systems are synchronised to wipeout on Bill's 45th birthday."
Skoda: "Yes, they're made out of cardboard."
B
One of the major US tobacco companies has made history by becoming the first to admit that smoking causes cancer and that nicotine is addictive. Expect the following statements over the next few months:
BNFL: "Our nuclear power stations cause leukaemia clusters in local communities."
Esso: "Our fossil fuels are evaporating the ozone layer."
Coca-Cola: "Our secret ingredient is tar."
KFC: "Our secret ingredient is asbestos."
FBI: "All the conspiracy theories about us are true. Except the ones about Elvis."
Tate & Lyle: "Your teeth will fall out."
Disney: "Our founder had a sexual fascination for domestic animals, hence a talking mouse in body-hugging dungarees."
Microsoft: "All systems are synchronised to wipeout on Bill's 45th birthday."
Skoda: "Yes, they're made out of cardboard."
B
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
Merde Étrange
Wednesday, 19th March 1997
Hello and all that, have I missed anything?
Had a lovely romantic weekend in the City of Love and Dogshit, did the Louvre, walked a lot, drank lots of red wine and a litre of Gueuze de Bécasse which holds the title of Best Drink In The World for the second year running, generally understood and even spoke more French than I thought I would and all that kind of stuff.
What's new in the world of Tim?
B(ack)
Hello and all that, have I missed anything?
Had a lovely romantic weekend in the City of Love and Dogshit, did the Louvre, walked a lot, drank lots of red wine and a litre of Gueuze de Bécasse which holds the title of Best Drink In The World for the second year running, generally understood and even spoke more French than I thought I would and all that kind of stuff.
What's new in the world of Tim?
B(ack)
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
Something In The Water Does Not Compute
Tuesday, 4th March 1997
Damn! I did have a proper morning message and everything, I knew what I was going to say, this is what it was.
Okay, so we've been told that there's this bug in the water supplies. The first I heard of it, yesterday MORNING, only Watford and Hemel Hempstead were affected, with 30 cases of linked illness reported. Remember that; 30 cases in total by 7.30am.
The bug is non-lethal and only mildly toxic, but widely publicised. Therefore you think twice about using tapwater, not just for drinking but FULL STOP; showers are quicker, baths 'feel' unrelaxing, that sort of thing. And spread that over the whole of the region, that's a lot of water. Not many people would bother to boil drinking water, then let it cool, when the local suermarket stocks inexpensive bottled water (last night at Harrow Tesco was a massacre, folks; they had a security guard on the Evian trolley). The bug has since been explained calmly and rationally; no blame is apportionable to Three Valleys.
Now then, the country as a whole (Three Valleys in particular) has been suffering the driest winter for over a hundred years. Stocks are dwindling now, imagine what they'll be like in the summer. Public water companies cannot financially endure embarrassment in the summer when water usage is at its highest, the shares would take a huge battering.
However, if there were to be a little scare and the company was seen to take charge from the outset (which it was), then share confidence wouldn't be hit quite as hard, and over three days, or a week say, the water saved would be the equivalent of the same time in continuous downpour, protecting the stocks for the summer and saving the company.
Something they could control from the start; say, a very mild poisoning of a small area affecting few people that could be SAID to affect the whole system. And maybe a mild outbreak of psychosomatic poisoning throughout the region, just to make it look good.
Last night on the nine o'clock news - 30 genuine connected cases had been reported. Fourteen hours, a few million people, and no change.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly give you: this month's Conspiracy Theory!!!
B (Vigilant)
Damn! I did have a proper morning message and everything, I knew what I was going to say, this is what it was.
Okay, so we've been told that there's this bug in the water supplies. The first I heard of it, yesterday MORNING, only Watford and Hemel Hempstead were affected, with 30 cases of linked illness reported. Remember that; 30 cases in total by 7.30am.
The bug is non-lethal and only mildly toxic, but widely publicised. Therefore you think twice about using tapwater, not just for drinking but FULL STOP; showers are quicker, baths 'feel' unrelaxing, that sort of thing. And spread that over the whole of the region, that's a lot of water. Not many people would bother to boil drinking water, then let it cool, when the local suermarket stocks inexpensive bottled water (last night at Harrow Tesco was a massacre, folks; they had a security guard on the Evian trolley). The bug has since been explained calmly and rationally; no blame is apportionable to Three Valleys.
Now then, the country as a whole (Three Valleys in particular) has been suffering the driest winter for over a hundred years. Stocks are dwindling now, imagine what they'll be like in the summer. Public water companies cannot financially endure embarrassment in the summer when water usage is at its highest, the shares would take a huge battering.
However, if there were to be a little scare and the company was seen to take charge from the outset (which it was), then share confidence wouldn't be hit quite as hard, and over three days, or a week say, the water saved would be the equivalent of the same time in continuous downpour, protecting the stocks for the summer and saving the company.
Something they could control from the start; say, a very mild poisoning of a small area affecting few people that could be SAID to affect the whole system. And maybe a mild outbreak of psychosomatic poisoning throughout the region, just to make it look good.
Last night on the nine o'clock news - 30 genuine connected cases had been reported. Fourteen hours, a few million people, and no change.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly give you: this month's Conspiracy Theory!!!
B (Vigilant)
Monday, 11 February 2008
Boogaloo Dudes Carry The News
Monday, 3rd March 1997
ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA "ngA ngA ngA", ngA ngA. ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ! ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA - ngA ngA ngA. ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngowever I'd have to say that Tim Burton's made far better movies with more story for less money. But bearing in mind that whereas some flicks are adapted from books and others from real-life, "Mars Attacks" originated from 1950s bubblegum cards, and in that respect it is a successful film. Next week on Film '97...
Do write in with your suggestions for a cosmically better life; I am currently researching the meaning of existence on a low-level scale and am looking for a catchy sound-bite to sum it all up. That's "Life in Seven Words or Less". Thank you for existing.
Eat football. Sleep football. Drink warm flat lager.
B(ylophone)
ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA "ngA ngA ngA", ngA ngA. ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ! ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA - ngA ngA ngA. ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngA ngA ngA, ngA ngowever I'd have to say that Tim Burton's made far better movies with more story for less money. But bearing in mind that whereas some flicks are adapted from books and others from real-life, "Mars Attacks" originated from 1950s bubblegum cards, and in that respect it is a successful film. Next week on Film '97...
Do write in with your suggestions for a cosmically better life; I am currently researching the meaning of existence on a low-level scale and am looking for a catchy sound-bite to sum it all up. That's "Life in Seven Words or Less". Thank you for existing.
Eat football. Sleep football. Drink warm flat lager.
B(ylophone)
Friday, 8 February 2008
MS 203 - Post-modern Cultural References in American Cinema
Friday, 27th February 1997
A great time was had by all last night. Unfortunately for us, the great time in question has gone to the police and is pressing charges of abuse against each of us separately. Great times are not to be trifled with, and a trifle is no measure of greatness.
Here's a list of words that rhyme with trifle.
Now bend over and cough.
B
A great time was had by all last night. Unfortunately for us, the great time in question has gone to the police and is pressing charges of abuse against each of us separately. Great times are not to be trifled with, and a trifle is no measure of greatness.
Here's a list of words that rhyme with trifle.
Rifle
Rifle (verb)
Stifle
Schteifel (Austrian slang for nob)
Eiffel (Anglicised - the French say "Ee-fell")
Archetypal (para-rhyme)
Bible (very tenuous)
Libel (rhymes with 'bible')
Gyroscope (doesn't)
Spoon (mmmnh)
Now bend over and cough.
B
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Everybody Is A Star
Thursday, 27th February 1997
Well, after yesterday's brouhaha I feel a bit deflated, a touch of post-traumatic mail disorder if you will. However, it was great craic and I'd do it all again... not that I'm going to. I wonder if Lauren would've complained about the abuse of the system if the game had ended with Gilles' little linguistic cabaret (which I'd like to add she DEFENDED at the time)? Smug get that I am...
As usual many missed the point, but who gives a monkey's?
Top marks for Harrow's new pubs. Yates's gets the awards for "Highest Ceiling" and "Most Confused Barstaff", while the Philomath & Firkin scoops "Best Smell" and "Best Free Beer"! I managed to persuade the Firkin people to part with 6 more free pint tokens, so when are we going, folks?
Must go, more French people to taunt...
B(elligerance is bliss)
Well, after yesterday's brouhaha I feel a bit deflated, a touch of post-traumatic mail disorder if you will. However, it was great craic and I'd do it all again... not that I'm going to. I wonder if Lauren would've complained about the abuse of the system if the game had ended with Gilles' little linguistic cabaret (which I'd like to add she DEFENDED at the time)? Smug get that I am...
As usual many missed the point, but who gives a monkey's?
Top marks for Harrow's new pubs. Yates's gets the awards for "Highest Ceiling" and "Most Confused Barstaff", while the Philomath & Firkin scoops "Best Smell" and "Best Free Beer"! I managed to persuade the Firkin people to part with 6 more free pint tokens, so when are we going, folks?
Must go, more French people to taunt...
B(elligerance is bliss)
Wednesday, 6 February 2008
Hot Fun In The Summertime
Wednesday, 26th February 1997
Came in, took off my hat, scarf, coat and gloves. Basia comes up and says there are some acetates at the new building we need photocopying, would I be a dear, so I put on my gloves, coat, scarf and hat and went out again. Good start to the day actually, got an extra 20 minutes of Sly and the Family Stone which I wouldn't've otherwise so there you go. Eerily quiet over there, though.
Wonderful to hear Janet Jackson's stalker is claiming to be both her husband AND Jesus Christ. That's like two loonies for the price of one. It's bargains like that that're worth the loss of privacy and inevitable sheltering of the soul.
Do you like good music? Yeah, yeah? Like sweet soul music? Yeah, yeah? Meh, bores the tagnuts off me. Especially what passes for soul in the '90s; processed, rehashed, soulless dance-oriented owl-pellets emitted by an endless stream of cloned American talent-vacuums. R Kelly? R Soul more like, and you could say that to his face without him catching on 'cos he's as immundicogniscent as the rest of his countrymen and wouldn't know an anglicism if it knocked him off his chopper.
B(enophobia)
Came in, took off my hat, scarf, coat and gloves. Basia comes up and says there are some acetates at the new building we need photocopying, would I be a dear, so I put on my gloves, coat, scarf and hat and went out again. Good start to the day actually, got an extra 20 minutes of Sly and the Family Stone which I wouldn't've otherwise so there you go. Eerily quiet over there, though.
Wonderful to hear Janet Jackson's stalker is claiming to be both her husband AND Jesus Christ. That's like two loonies for the price of one. It's bargains like that that're worth the loss of privacy and inevitable sheltering of the soul.
Do you like good music? Yeah, yeah? Like sweet soul music? Yeah, yeah? Meh, bores the tagnuts off me. Especially what passes for soul in the '90s; processed, rehashed, soulless dance-oriented owl-pellets emitted by an endless stream of cloned American talent-vacuums. R Kelly? R Soul more like, and you could say that to his face without him catching on 'cos he's as immundicogniscent as the rest of his countrymen and wouldn't know an anglicism if it knocked him off his chopper.
B(enophobia)
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
A Permanent Crease In Your Right-&-Wrong
Tuesday, 25th February 1997
Came to work on Sly & The Family Stone, grand dukes of funk from the 70s who bequeathed the world "Everyday People", "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf)" and "If You Want Me To Stay". Travelling in on funk is very strange, the journey seems to take longer but everything looks and feels so much better.
However, it is worth noting that being on funk and being in a funk are at opposite ends of the feel-good spectrum. So be careful how funky you get and what kind. Or just stick to Phil bloody Collins, I really don't give a monkey's.
And remember: life is like a big woman in a polythene mac sitting on a green giraffe to the tune of "Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree".
B
Came to work on Sly & The Family Stone, grand dukes of funk from the 70s who bequeathed the world "Everyday People", "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf)" and "If You Want Me To Stay". Travelling in on funk is very strange, the journey seems to take longer but everything looks and feels so much better.
However, it is worth noting that being on funk and being in a funk are at opposite ends of the feel-good spectrum. So be careful how funky you get and what kind. Or just stick to Phil bloody Collins, I really don't give a monkey's.
And remember: life is like a big woman in a polythene mac sitting on a green giraffe to the tune of "Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree".
B
Monday, 4 February 2008
Whiplash Girlchild In The Dark
Monday, 24th February 1997
Count your blessings:
1. You can count
2. You are blessed
3. GOTO 1
-
Apparently the only Brit award the Spice Girls aren't going to win is "Ugliest Bloke in Music". The reason they aren't going to win is that in this category Backflip Spice is up against Shaun Ryder.
-
Brown Is The New Black, a fashion sound-bite overused the past year or so. But why should it be merely applied to clothes? Thusly, can we please have a big "brown" of applause for:
Cilla Brown
China Brown
Frank Brown
Brown Velvet
Dry Brownthorne Cider
Brown Bush
Velvet Underground's "The Brown Angel's Death Song"
Sounds of Brownness
Brown Beauty
Stranglers' "Meninbrown"
Rolling Stones' "Paint It Brown"
Brown Grape
The list is endful.
B (Is The New X)
Count your blessings:
1. You can count
2. You are blessed
3. GOTO 1
-
Apparently the only Brit award the Spice Girls aren't going to win is "Ugliest Bloke in Music". The reason they aren't going to win is that in this category Backflip Spice is up against Shaun Ryder.
-
Brown Is The New Black, a fashion sound-bite overused the past year or so. But why should it be merely applied to clothes? Thusly, can we please have a big "brown" of applause for:
Cilla Brown
China Brown
Frank Brown
Brown Velvet
Dry Brownthorne Cider
Brown Bush
Velvet Underground's "The Brown Angel's Death Song"
Sounds of Brownness
Brown Beauty
Stranglers' "Meninbrown"
Rolling Stones' "Paint It Brown"
Brown Grape
The list is endful.
B (Is The New X)
Friday, 1 February 2008
Pray for The Morning
Friday, 21st February 1997
The synonym for "stupid" I've been looking for all week and I've finally got it: it's "fatuous". Wonderful word; the OED defines it as "vacantly silly; purposeless, idiotic", it's in all the books and is easily missed. So, let's get fatuous.
-
"The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions." The bit that always bothered me as a child was that the Road to Hell was paved in the first place. I was familiar with tarmac, aggregate, concrete and even cobbles, but a paved road? Anaethema.
However, I see that phrase now not so much as a truism but as a prophecy. A prophecy that states that the end of the world is to be wrought through pedestrianised shopping areas. Don't ask me how, but the evidence is all there. Minor connecting carriageways laid with slabs of stone by councils to cut down on pollution, congestion and road traffic accidents. Roads paved with good intentions. And they shall lead us into Temptation.
The synonym for "stupid" I've been looking for all week and I've finally got it: it's "fatuous". Wonderful word; the OED defines it as "vacantly silly; purposeless, idiotic", it's in all the books and is easily missed. So, let's get fatuous.
-
"The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions." The bit that always bothered me as a child was that the Road to Hell was paved in the first place. I was familiar with tarmac, aggregate, concrete and even cobbles, but a paved road? Anaethema.
However, I see that phrase now not so much as a truism but as a prophecy. A prophecy that states that the end of the world is to be wrought through pedestrianised shopping areas. Don't ask me how, but the evidence is all there. Minor connecting carriageways laid with slabs of stone by councils to cut down on pollution, congestion and road traffic accidents. Roads paved with good intentions. And they shall lead us into Temptation.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Youngest 16-Year Olds EVER
Thursday, 20th February 1997
Does TV corrupt? Well I watched Brass Eye last night and I have to say I was shocked, scandalised, surprised, then relaxed, aroused, gibbering and eventually homicidal. So yes, it does. The Belgian dwarf in a nappy on the cock-tricycle did it for me.
Phwooaaarrr.
Worried? You should be. I'm not.
And besides. So? Meh. Pah.
B
PS This e-mail was originally a song about a Polish gangster who ate a poodle, so count yourselves lucky.
Does TV corrupt? Well I watched Brass Eye last night and I have to say I was shocked, scandalised, surprised, then relaxed, aroused, gibbering and eventually homicidal. So yes, it does. The Belgian dwarf in a nappy on the cock-tricycle did it for me.
Phwooaaarrr.
Worried? You should be. I'm not.
And besides. So? Meh. Pah.
B
PS This e-mail was originally a song about a Polish gangster who ate a poodle, so count yourselves lucky.
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Blue Canary In The Outlet By The Light Switch
Wednesday, 19th February 1997
I haven't heard any world news all week - what's going on? All there is is Liz Taylor's brain tumour and consenting gay s&m practicioners. There must be some real news out there, or has everyone got enough to eat now?
Had a big bowl of microwaved porridge this morning. I'm glowing like a 60W bulb, folks. Come anywhere near me and you'll grow an extra spleen.
In the 1970s, the progressive rock combo Blue Oyster Cult sang "Don't Fear the Reaper". In the '80s, Ultravox gave us "Reap the Wild Wind". And in their 1995 cover of "Perfect Day", Duran Duran sang "you're going to reap just what you sew." That's "Rockin' and Reapin'", a history of pop & wheatfarming techniques tonight at 10 on Radio Fab FM.
We are stardust, but we are not Alvin Stardust.
B
I haven't heard any world news all week - what's going on? All there is is Liz Taylor's brain tumour and consenting gay s&m practicioners. There must be some real news out there, or has everyone got enough to eat now?
Had a big bowl of microwaved porridge this morning. I'm glowing like a 60W bulb, folks. Come anywhere near me and you'll grow an extra spleen.
In the 1970s, the progressive rock combo Blue Oyster Cult sang "Don't Fear the Reaper". In the '80s, Ultravox gave us "Reap the Wild Wind". And in their 1995 cover of "Perfect Day", Duran Duran sang "you're going to reap just what you sew." That's "Rockin' and Reapin'", a history of pop & wheatfarming techniques tonight at 10 on Radio Fab FM.
We are stardust, but we are not Alvin Stardust.
B
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
The Non-Ballad of Thomas Bryer
Tuesday, 18th February 1997
On a cold winter's morning in 1814
Stood a man with a gun and a bottle of gi-i-n
In the rush town of Ratchett in New Mexico-o-o-o
He held a small arrow to destiny's bo-o-ow
Old Thomas Bryer, the town knew him well
He could knock back tequila and whisky like hell
He panhandled coins for his boozing all da-a-a-ay
And done nothin' for no-one that anyone could saa-a-ay
Now history sings of our heroes of o-o-old
How they'd sail to the west and bring back the go-o-o-old
But nobody sings of the people forgo-o-ot
Who did nothing but stay in a small town and ro-o-ot
That cold winter morning was not felt by Bryer-r-r-r-r
His brain was a stone and his kidneys on fi-i-ire
No tears in his eyes with the gun to his he-e-e-e-e-e-e-eaaad
Then his liver gave out and it dropped like le-e-e-ead
Now history sings about kinsfolk who fought
The ones who escaped and the ones who got cau-au-aught
But a pointless existence and pitiful de-e-e-e-eath
Isn't worth a long song or anyone's bre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eath.
E-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
B (prose and cons for better or for verse)
On a cold winter's morning in 1814
Stood a man with a gun and a bottle of gi-i-n
In the rush town of Ratchett in New Mexico-o-o-o
He held a small arrow to destiny's bo-o-ow
Old Thomas Bryer, the town knew him well
He could knock back tequila and whisky like hell
He panhandled coins for his boozing all da-a-a-ay
And done nothin' for no-one that anyone could saa-a-ay
Now history sings of our heroes of o-o-old
How they'd sail to the west and bring back the go-o-o-old
But nobody sings of the people forgo-o-ot
Who did nothing but stay in a small town and ro-o-ot
That cold winter morning was not felt by Bryer-r-r-r-r
His brain was a stone and his kidneys on fi-i-ire
No tears in his eyes with the gun to his he-e-e-e-e-e-e-eaaad
Then his liver gave out and it dropped like le-e-e-ead
Now history sings about kinsfolk who fought
The ones who escaped and the ones who got cau-au-aught
But a pointless existence and pitiful de-e-e-e-eath
Isn't worth a long song or anyone's bre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eath.
E-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eathhhhh....
B (prose and cons for better or for verse)
Monday, 28 January 2008
Good Morning Dave
Monday, 17th February 1997
Strange really, got an early night, woke up just before the alarm fully awake and rested, bounded in and out of the shower etc. and all bright and breezy until about five minutes before I entering the building and now I feel like I've just been dropped off by George Best and Petula Clark after a night of continuous cheap lager and a marathon showing of "Heimat". Bit tired, confused, and vaguely post-bored. So there you go, excuse me If I ramble on a bit.
How was your weekend? No please, tell me, I have to know EXACTLY what you did to keep my surveillance dossiers up to date; the net link with the cameras went down Saturday 2.15pm for some reason, and the listening devices in your cars/bedrooms/jackets all decided to go on the fritz at different times from Friday, so don't spare the detail or I'll have the Agency on my back for crimes of omission. And don't pull that face: it's not easy being a spy, y'know.
What's your favourite biscuit? Mine's original Hob Nobs.
When I click my fingers, you will wake.
B
Strange really, got an early night, woke up just before the alarm fully awake and rested, bounded in and out of the shower etc. and all bright and breezy until about five minutes before I entering the building and now I feel like I've just been dropped off by George Best and Petula Clark after a night of continuous cheap lager and a marathon showing of "Heimat". Bit tired, confused, and vaguely post-bored. So there you go, excuse me If I ramble on a bit.
How was your weekend? No please, tell me, I have to know EXACTLY what you did to keep my surveillance dossiers up to date; the net link with the cameras went down Saturday 2.15pm for some reason, and the listening devices in your cars/bedrooms/jackets all decided to go on the fritz at different times from Friday, so don't spare the detail or I'll have the Agency on my back for crimes of omission. And don't pull that face: it's not easy being a spy, y'know.
What's your favourite biscuit? Mine's original Hob Nobs.
When I click my fingers, you will wake.
B
Friday, 25 January 2008
Red Light For Love
Friday, 14th February 1997
Marcus wakes up smiling, checks to his right, pulled a right cracker for a Thursday night, rolls/jumps out of bed, funky purple dressing gown, leaves the girl sleeping and saunters out of the room down the corridor hop skip jump down the stairs and sees the light through the doorway fall on a pile of variegated red envelopes plentiful enough to cover the door mat. Bending down he scoops them up and walks them into the front room where he pauses only to catch the cards slipping from his arms onto the floor, drops the pile onto the front room table and releases an almost inaudible yap of glee. Marcus loves Valentine's Day.
Ploughs through the cards, all different handwritings, ripping them open to scan the contents, check the jokey pet names people gives themselves and crosses them with their real names, playfully filling in his social calendar mentally and planning to take a week off. Some envelopes contain little keepsakes, falling out like rocks from the sky, hillock of envelope trash forming to one side and cards and gifts to the other. The doorbell goes; Marcus Trembly (38) dashes to answer - three delivery men with assorted bundles of bouquets. He spends a full five minutes signing for flowers and cheerily ignores the look on the second delivery man's face, the familiar "why can't I be you?" look Marcus saw all the time: "you're no different from me" jealousy, the scowl-beneath-the-surface slowly percolating through suppressing features, worn down by lonely years and ignored Valentines dreams - Marcus gives him the biggest smile of all, hoping pragmato-vainly that some of his facile charm and grace will rub off on him.
Door no sooner closed than the phone starts, and this could go on for ages, women, women, women, so many, so little time, so let's take our first caller, who's on line one? He picks up the phone - "Marcus? Marcus?" but the phone's still ringing, what the hell?, and the voice "Marcus? Marcus? Marcus..." and the bell hasn't stopped ringing, and that's when the penny drops, and the reality of Marcus being woken by his mum on Valentine's Day hits him. Breakfast, work, and sadness. But first he's going to check the post. Who knows.
Maybe today.
B
Marcus wakes up smiling, checks to his right, pulled a right cracker for a Thursday night, rolls/jumps out of bed, funky purple dressing gown, leaves the girl sleeping and saunters out of the room down the corridor hop skip jump down the stairs and sees the light through the doorway fall on a pile of variegated red envelopes plentiful enough to cover the door mat. Bending down he scoops them up and walks them into the front room where he pauses only to catch the cards slipping from his arms onto the floor, drops the pile onto the front room table and releases an almost inaudible yap of glee. Marcus loves Valentine's Day.
Ploughs through the cards, all different handwritings, ripping them open to scan the contents, check the jokey pet names people gives themselves and crosses them with their real names, playfully filling in his social calendar mentally and planning to take a week off. Some envelopes contain little keepsakes, falling out like rocks from the sky, hillock of envelope trash forming to one side and cards and gifts to the other. The doorbell goes; Marcus Trembly (38) dashes to answer - three delivery men with assorted bundles of bouquets. He spends a full five minutes signing for flowers and cheerily ignores the look on the second delivery man's face, the familiar "why can't I be you?" look Marcus saw all the time: "you're no different from me" jealousy, the scowl-beneath-the-surface slowly percolating through suppressing features, worn down by lonely years and ignored Valentines dreams - Marcus gives him the biggest smile of all, hoping pragmato-vainly that some of his facile charm and grace will rub off on him.
Door no sooner closed than the phone starts, and this could go on for ages, women, women, women, so many, so little time, so let's take our first caller, who's on line one? He picks up the phone - "Marcus? Marcus?" but the phone's still ringing, what the hell?, and the voice "Marcus? Marcus? Marcus..." and the bell hasn't stopped ringing, and that's when the penny drops, and the reality of Marcus being woken by his mum on Valentine's Day hits him. Breakfast, work, and sadness. But first he's going to check the post. Who knows.
Maybe today.
B
Thursday, 24 January 2008
Snootchy Kootchies
Thursday, 13th February 1997
Avast ye landlubbers! Hoist the mizzenmast, batten down the 'atches an' lock up ye daughters. Arrr, it be blowin' a howlin' gale, force ten it be, the old girl's being tossed about in the water like anythin' and the ship ain't too stable neither, arrr...
You know how you always think you forget something when you leave the house in the morning and when you get to work you remember what it was? Well, today I forgot my trousers totally, like they're hanging up at home, and didn't I feel a wally when I got in to work. Fortunately Jon had bought in a spare ankle-length skirt, so he's lent me that. I was very grateful, I mean, can you imagine the embarrassment?
Speaking of embarrassment, there's a rather nifty scanned photo going around of a certain wee lad with the demeanour of one recovering from much tequila and lager. Stevie, take a bow!
And remember: an arm and a leg cost nothing.
B
Avast ye landlubbers! Hoist the mizzenmast, batten down the 'atches an' lock up ye daughters. Arrr, it be blowin' a howlin' gale, force ten it be, the old girl's being tossed about in the water like anythin' and the ship ain't too stable neither, arrr...
You know how you always think you forget something when you leave the house in the morning and when you get to work you remember what it was? Well, today I forgot my trousers totally, like they're hanging up at home, and didn't I feel a wally when I got in to work. Fortunately Jon had bought in a spare ankle-length skirt, so he's lent me that. I was very grateful, I mean, can you imagine the embarrassment?
Speaking of embarrassment, there's a rather nifty scanned photo going around of a certain wee lad with the demeanour of one recovering from much tequila and lager. Stevie, take a bow!
And remember: an arm and a leg cost nothing.
B
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Clams Don't Have Teeth
Wednesday, 12th February 1997
The man and the dog story, coming to your mailboxes soon. I was going to do it at home, but I've taken the machine in for an oil change and refurb, excuses excuses.
Let other pens dwell on misery and guilt, wrote Jane Austen in her magnificent Mansfield Park. A wonderful book, I remember the York notes well. In the borrowed copy I borrowed from a semi-literate classmate, he had written "Fannies a tawt" in the section on Characterisation. Never actually have read the book proper, I cannot find it suitable to comment on the veracity of the book's heroine Fanny's tawthood, but from the intricate synopsies which helped me on the path to whatever English exam it was, she was certainly a bit of an asre.
The response to yesterday's poll on the wantedness of the morning mail message was staggering. Thank you all so much. You all deserve bollocks for breakfast, and shall have nothing less.
Eat, drink, and don't forget to chew well before swallowing.
B
The man and the dog story, coming to your mailboxes soon. I was going to do it at home, but I've taken the machine in for an oil change and refurb, excuses excuses.
Let other pens dwell on misery and guilt, wrote Jane Austen in her magnificent Mansfield Park. A wonderful book, I remember the York notes well. In the borrowed copy I borrowed from a semi-literate classmate, he had written "Fannies a tawt" in the section on Characterisation. Never actually have read the book proper, I cannot find it suitable to comment on the veracity of the book's heroine Fanny's tawthood, but from the intricate synopsies which helped me on the path to whatever English exam it was, she was certainly a bit of an asre.
The response to yesterday's poll on the wantedness of the morning mail message was staggering. Thank you all so much. You all deserve bollocks for breakfast, and shall have nothing less.
Eat, drink, and don't forget to chew well before swallowing.
B
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Re[0]:
Tuesday, 11th February 1997
The story about the man and the dog can wait. It's not very nice and if you have an aversion to animal cruelty or blood then it could ruin your morning: but it comes together rather tidily in the end and when I get time I'm looking forward to writing it.
So, how do we feel about not receiving an e-mail full of inane bonkers arse (which it is) to start your day? Remember, this is a democracy (of sorts). And I've got to write the thucking fing. Mail me back if you want to continue subscribing (as it were) to this marvellously pointless (let's face it) service.
The new Blur album: it's a lo-fi classic! Hear them impersonate Neil Young! Laugh as they copy Beck! Gasp as they rip off the Beatles (again)! Howl with derision as they repeat themselves! Howl with derision as they repeat themselves! Blur - the album: it's fart!
Btlebum
The story about the man and the dog can wait. It's not very nice and if you have an aversion to animal cruelty or blood then it could ruin your morning: but it comes together rather tidily in the end and when I get time I'm looking forward to writing it.
So, how do we feel about not receiving an e-mail full of inane bonkers arse (which it is) to start your day? Remember, this is a democracy (of sorts). And I've got to write the thucking fing. Mail me back if you want to continue subscribing (as it were) to this marvellously pointless (let's face it) service.
The new Blur album: it's a lo-fi classic! Hear them impersonate Neil Young! Laugh as they copy Beck! Gasp as they rip off the Beatles (again)! Howl with derision as they repeat themselves! Howl with derision as they repeat themselves! Blur - the album: it's fart!
Btlebum
Monday, 21 January 2008
Feeling Hot Hot Hot
Monday, 10th February 1997
Who can tell the mad man from the sane? Who are we if we are not ourselves? From where does the concept of "dead time" originate? If a tree falls in a forest and no-one is there to hear it, does it make an attractive Edwardian tea chest, a leaf-fold dining table with matching guest and carver chairs, a sturdy hi-fi cabinet and this marvellous sauna room with adjoining hot-tub. If you're getting a bit hot, sit a bit lower down, and do the water on the coals while you're at it.
That's better. Actually, I've been in for longer than ten minutes, might run into the pool in a second.
Did you have a good weekend, or were you tempted to opt for something else completely? I wouldn't blame you: good weekends are becoming somewhat passé. Next weekend I'm planning on having a remarkable Easter, or perhaps a fanciful seal torching season. No, sod it, a good weekend's a hell of a lot easier. Did anyone have a shite weekend?
If I may be serious for a moment: "When We Dance" by Sting, there's a message from Satan in the first line of the second verse: when played backwards one hears the words "I Shave Arseholes and There Sucks Evil".
Keep worshipping Leviathan!
Who can tell the mad man from the sane? Who are we if we are not ourselves? From where does the concept of "dead time" originate? If a tree falls in a forest and no-one is there to hear it, does it make an attractive Edwardian tea chest, a leaf-fold dining table with matching guest and carver chairs, a sturdy hi-fi cabinet and this marvellous sauna room with adjoining hot-tub. If you're getting a bit hot, sit a bit lower down, and do the water on the coals while you're at it.
That's better. Actually, I've been in for longer than ten minutes, might run into the pool in a second.
Did you have a good weekend, or were you tempted to opt for something else completely? I wouldn't blame you: good weekends are becoming somewhat passé. Next weekend I'm planning on having a remarkable Easter, or perhaps a fanciful seal torching season. No, sod it, a good weekend's a hell of a lot easier. Did anyone have a shite weekend?
If I may be serious for a moment: "When We Dance" by Sting, there's a message from Satan in the first line of the second verse: when played backwards one hears the words "I Shave Arseholes and There Sucks Evil".
Keep worshipping Leviathan!
Friday, 18 January 2008
Truth is the Ultimate Name of the Maker
Thursday, 6th February 1997
The world is split:
1) Those who believe that "Brass Eye" geniunely sets up celebrities to say stupid things without them knowing; that Noel Edmonds is prepared to believe and to tell the public, that a ludicrously large yellow pill is the new drug called "cake" that it affects the part of the brain known as "Shatner's Bassoon", causing a condition known as "Czech neck".
2) Those who believe that "Brass Eye" is a set-up; that the celebs involved know exactly what's going on and it is the gullible public who are the fools.
3) Those who say "Brass what?"
And if you missed Jas Mann answering the question "Are you a genius?" with the sincere answer "I hope to become one", then the series should be coming out on video in a month or two.
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B.
The world is split:
1) Those who believe that "Brass Eye" geniunely sets up celebrities to say stupid things without them knowing; that Noel Edmonds is prepared to believe and to tell the public, that a ludicrously large yellow pill is the new drug called "cake" that it affects the part of the brain known as "Shatner's Bassoon", causing a condition known as "Czech neck".
2) Those who believe that "Brass Eye" is a set-up; that the celebs involved know exactly what's going on and it is the gullible public who are the fools.
3) Those who say "Brass what?"
And if you missed Jas Mann answering the question "Are you a genius?" with the sincere answer "I hope to become one", then the series should be coming out on video in a month or two.
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B.
Thursday, 17 January 2008
Guilty My Bell-End
Wednesday, 5th February 1997
Now I don't claim to know the law, let alone American Civil Law, however:
a) after a lengthy court process a man is found not guilty of murder;
b) following this he is brought before a civil court for a private action brought by the families of the deceased;
c) this time he is found guilty of murder, the same one he was already cleared of, even though no new evidence is presented;
d) he is sentenced to pay $8m in compensation to the families and punitive damages to follow.
But
1) how can he be tried twice for the same crime on identical grounds;
2) don't judges normally sentence murderers to prison;
3) $8m;
4) Santa Monica is full of angry middle-class white folks, any court action there would get a jury of the same;
5) what in the name of pants and string vests is going on here?
O B Simpson
Now I don't claim to know the law, let alone American Civil Law, however:
a) after a lengthy court process a man is found not guilty of murder;
b) following this he is brought before a civil court for a private action brought by the families of the deceased;
c) this time he is found guilty of murder, the same one he was already cleared of, even though no new evidence is presented;
d) he is sentenced to pay $8m in compensation to the families and punitive damages to follow.
But
1) how can he be tried twice for the same crime on identical grounds;
2) don't judges normally sentence murderers to prison;
3) $8m;
4) Santa Monica is full of angry middle-class white folks, any court action there would get a jury of the same;
5) what in the name of pants and string vests is going on here?
O B Simpson
Wednesday, 16 January 2008
I Palindrome I
Tuesday, 4th February 1997
Enough babbling, let's give people the FACTS:
In tests, the Rover Metro came bottom of the table in safety. What hasn't been as widely publicised is that the Fiesta and the Polo are 73% more likely to suffer from alien abduction and attack from sharks.
The father of missing TV presenter Zoe Ball has been taken into police custody accused of the murder of custard pies and small fluffy animal toys during his reign as children's television's comedy/science anchorman in the 1970s. Johnny "The Hat" Ball will be tried and executed on Thursday.
Fashion, and Being Rescued At Sea is the craze that's sweeping the world. It's 1997 folks, and if you're not out in the middle of some immense ocean facing certain death then you're NOWHERE. Two headline cases so far in January. Hardcore rescuees favour ridiculous methods of staying alive, such as stapling their hands together with knives to prevent losing precious energy to the rigours of morris dancing.
Those were the news, now over to Caroline for the weather.
B
Enough babbling, let's give people the FACTS:
In tests, the Rover Metro came bottom of the table in safety. What hasn't been as widely publicised is that the Fiesta and the Polo are 73% more likely to suffer from alien abduction and attack from sharks.
The father of missing TV presenter Zoe Ball has been taken into police custody accused of the murder of custard pies and small fluffy animal toys during his reign as children's television's comedy/science anchorman in the 1970s. Johnny "The Hat" Ball will be tried and executed on Thursday.
Fashion, and Being Rescued At Sea is the craze that's sweeping the world. It's 1997 folks, and if you're not out in the middle of some immense ocean facing certain death then you're NOWHERE. Two headline cases so far in January. Hardcore rescuees favour ridiculous methods of staying alive, such as stapling their hands together with knives to prevent losing precious energy to the rigours of morris dancing.
Those were the news, now over to Caroline for the weather.
B
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
I Don't Want The World, I Just Want Your Half
Monday, 3rd February 1997
A weak is as link as its strongest chain. The type of tenet upon which one can base a whole system of living.
Monday is a state of mind - in this spirit, Thank God It's Friday!!!
It has been said that overuse and multiplicity of exclamation marks at the end of a sentence is a sign of imbalance and insecurity. You may observe that I limit their use and therefore can be considered perfectlyHELP ME I NEED HELP IM FALLKING APASRT EVERYTHINGFS ISD IT TOO STRANGE I CANT GO OPJN HUL;P- ME PLEASZE HELP MEEED,.,.;[[[sane despite brief attacks of paranoid frenzy which fortunately limit themselves to these morning messages. Oh, and I almost forgot, !!!!!!!!!. Ha-ha.
B Army
A weak is as link as its strongest chain. The type of tenet upon which one can base a whole system of living.
Monday is a state of mind - in this spirit, Thank God It's Friday!!!
It has been said that overuse and multiplicity of exclamation marks at the end of a sentence is a sign of imbalance and insecurity. You may observe that I limit their use and therefore can be considered perfectlyHELP ME I NEED HELP IM FALLKING APASRT EVERYTHINGFS ISD IT TOO STRANGE I CANT GO OPJN HUL;P- ME PLEASZE HELP MEEED,.,.;[[[sane despite brief attacks of paranoid frenzy which fortunately limit themselves to these morning messages. Oh, and I almost forgot, !!!!!!!!!. Ha-ha.
B Army
Monday, 14 January 2008
Shaggy & Scooby Got Married
Friday, 31st January 1997
Congratulations to Alastair on his promotion to DC 2. Nobody told me he was a Detective Constable of any sort before, and now look. There's an ITV Drama series in that, "DC Alastair", or perhaps a gritty urban documentary. Ideas on a postcard, please, to the usual address. Or just send it round on a post-it note stuck to a zebra, that normally works.
Swab & Nettle for celebratory drinks at lunchtime? Or is it the Crush and Toetread? Al, the decision is yours.
Walked out of "Laughter on the 23rd Floor" at the interval last night. Gene Wilder let down by a cast of crap American and Russian accents and fewer laughs than the papers (or the title) would have you believe. So that's two ducks in as many weeks - sod the theatre, I'm going back to Hollywood. Anything good on at the movies these days?
Ain' bin nuthin' since Bad Boys, n Boyz N Th' Hood, n shet, I smoke yo ass byatch, a'm da man, a'm da maaan...
Congratulations to Alastair on his promotion to DC 2. Nobody told me he was a Detective Constable of any sort before, and now look. There's an ITV Drama series in that, "DC Alastair", or perhaps a gritty urban documentary. Ideas on a postcard, please, to the usual address. Or just send it round on a post-it note stuck to a zebra, that normally works.
Swab & Nettle for celebratory drinks at lunchtime? Or is it the Crush and Toetread? Al, the decision is yours.
Walked out of "Laughter on the 23rd Floor" at the interval last night. Gene Wilder let down by a cast of crap American and Russian accents and fewer laughs than the papers (or the title) would have you believe. So that's two ducks in as many weeks - sod the theatre, I'm going back to Hollywood. Anything good on at the movies these days?
Ain' bin nuthin' since Bad Boys, n Boyz N Th' Hood, n shet, I smoke yo ass byatch, a'm da man, a'm da maaan...
Friday, 11 January 2008
The Word "Cruel" Starts Flashing
Thursday, 30th January 1997
The fluouououorescent tube above my desk is on the blink and it's giving me a headache. I must fetch Tom the Office Technician immediately. However, first let me rave about Fortean TV and Brass Eye.
Bangin', those programmes, largin' it, Chris Morris, viiibe, Lionel Fanthorpe, mingin', top telly, satan satan satan satan. Perhaps not to everyone's taste, but if you like watching clips from Iranian TV of live cows being shot out of cannons, mermaid autopsies, strange goat killing monsters and celebrities being humiliated then this is the TV hour for you. I particularly enjoyed watching Paul Daniels film endorsements for a campaign to get an East German elephant's trunk from out of its guts.
And if you don't, then it isn't.
The fluouououorescent tube above my desk is on the blink and it's giving me a headache. I must fetch Tom the Office Technician immediately. However, first let me rave about Fortean TV and Brass Eye.
Bangin', those programmes, largin' it, Chris Morris, viiibe, Lionel Fanthorpe, mingin', top telly, satan satan satan satan. Perhaps not to everyone's taste, but if you like watching clips from Iranian TV of live cows being shot out of cannons, mermaid autopsies, strange goat killing monsters and celebrities being humiliated then this is the TV hour for you. I particularly enjoyed watching Paul Daniels film endorsements for a campaign to get an East German elephant's trunk from out of its guts.
And if you don't, then it isn't.
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Punching Airholes Through the Dying Throat of News
Wednesday, 29thJanuary 1997
TV tonight: Channel 4 between 9 and 10. Fortean TV, presented by possibly the worst sci-fi novelist in the world (so bad he writes under at least 12 different pseudonyms) Lionel Fanthorpe, documents the strange, the unexplained, and the made-up phenomena that haunt our world.
Followed by BRASS EYE. Pulled at least twice from Channel 4's schedules, dangerous Chris Morris - banned from broadcasting for publicly announcing the deaths of Jimmy Saville and Michael Heseltine - gets public citizens and politicians to make arses of themselves and tackles issues THEY said were too tasteless to... er... tackle.
Bow down and worship the gods of cult TV. You might as well.
TV tonight: Channel 4 between 9 and 10. Fortean TV, presented by possibly the worst sci-fi novelist in the world (so bad he writes under at least 12 different pseudonyms) Lionel Fanthorpe, documents the strange, the unexplained, and the made-up phenomena that haunt our world.
Followed by BRASS EYE. Pulled at least twice from Channel 4's schedules, dangerous Chris Morris - banned from broadcasting for publicly announcing the deaths of Jimmy Saville and Michael Heseltine - gets public citizens and politicians to make arses of themselves and tackles issues THEY said were too tasteless to... er... tackle.
Bow down and worship the gods of cult TV. You might as well.
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Working on My 3D TV Tan
Tuesday, 28th January 1997
"Got a call from an old friend, we used to be real close..."
Over the weekend, using what's called a Yahoo! e-mail address search, I looked up an American friend, a good friend with whom I lost contact almost three years ago, to see if he was on the system. Bit of a long shot as he was a confirmed technophobe when I knew him. However, a name matching his in a plausible US location appeared in the search, so I sent a tentative e-mail and waited.
Call me Bob Hoskins, but it is true: nobody wants to be the first to get in touch, to pick up that phone or write that letter. Nobody wants to be disappointed, to find out they've been forgotten, or that they're being inconvenient, or thought of as sad for doing such a thing, by the person they once called a friend. Sometimes it's laziness that stops people from making that connection, but mostly it's fear. And people don't remember how warming and wonderful it is to get a bolt from the blue from someone they once thought a hell of a lot of (maybe because it's never happened to them, but can you think why it's never happened?). You risk losing a lot of face calling on a friend you haven't seen in ages. But then...
Checked my mailbox last night when I got home to find I'd received a long mail from Philadelphia that began "Dude, it's about time..."
"Got a call from an old friend, we used to be real close..."
Over the weekend, using what's called a Yahoo! e-mail address search, I looked up an American friend, a good friend with whom I lost contact almost three years ago, to see if he was on the system. Bit of a long shot as he was a confirmed technophobe when I knew him. However, a name matching his in a plausible US location appeared in the search, so I sent a tentative e-mail and waited.
Call me Bob Hoskins, but it is true: nobody wants to be the first to get in touch, to pick up that phone or write that letter. Nobody wants to be disappointed, to find out they've been forgotten, or that they're being inconvenient, or thought of as sad for doing such a thing, by the person they once called a friend. Sometimes it's laziness that stops people from making that connection, but mostly it's fear. And people don't remember how warming and wonderful it is to get a bolt from the blue from someone they once thought a hell of a lot of (maybe because it's never happened to them, but can you think why it's never happened?). You risk losing a lot of face calling on a friend you haven't seen in ages. But then...
Checked my mailbox last night when I got home to find I'd received a long mail from Philadelphia that began "Dude, it's about time..."
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
It's Only Castles Burning
Monday, 27th January 1997
There are literally thousands of massive natural objects floating around the solar systems with orbits that randomly intersect the Earth's. Click! The barrel's empty - this time...
Just to recap - in the last episode Dai Gwchllogh was arrested by the heavily pregnant WPC Willis for the accidental murder of Mr Bwrrrccchl the gardener during a bungled sheep rustling. Meanwhile Gavin McSprout-Yeovil the wealthy yuppie of the Rhonhddhda has forced his adopted son and his wife, Pam, to get out of the valley by midnight after discovering their illicit affair that had been going on since Josh was 12. However, WPC Willis's Rover is heading down the only link road, with Pam & Josh in a Vitara coming in the other direction. And with Mr Bwrrrccchl dead, there is no-one to light the warning flares on the narrow stretch of Shepherd's Passage. Who will end up burning to death in their upturned vehicle? Find out tonight on "Barmy Welsh Tossers", UK Living at 7.30pm.
There are literally thousands of massive natural objects floating around the solar systems with orbits that randomly intersect the Earth's. Click! The barrel's empty - this time...
Just to recap - in the last episode Dai Gwchllogh was arrested by the heavily pregnant WPC Willis for the accidental murder of Mr Bwrrrccchl the gardener during a bungled sheep rustling. Meanwhile Gavin McSprout-Yeovil the wealthy yuppie of the Rhonhddhda has forced his adopted son and his wife, Pam, to get out of the valley by midnight after discovering their illicit affair that had been going on since Josh was 12. However, WPC Willis's Rover is heading down the only link road, with Pam & Josh in a Vitara coming in the other direction. And with Mr Bwrrrccchl dead, there is no-one to light the warning flares on the narrow stretch of Shepherd's Passage. Who will end up burning to death in their upturned vehicle? Find out tonight on "Barmy Welsh Tossers", UK Living at 7.30pm.
Monday, 7 January 2008
Everything's Happy Underground
Friday, 24th January 1997
It was Radio 1's morning news anchorwoman Tina Richie's last day today, and do you know, in the scant 45 minutes I was listening, she managed to say "Dog's Bollocks" three times. The Chris Evans Bridge-Burning Technique thrives yet.
Anyone want the Spice Girls screensaver? It's shit but it's spicey. And the shock news is that Geri's dumped her two-timing boyfriend - SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND? I heard she was into alsatians.
Oh the wind may blow and the sun may shine
And the rain may fall forever
That's why you hear the British whine
About the British weather.
Put it on, put it on...
It was Radio 1's morning news anchorwoman Tina Richie's last day today, and do you know, in the scant 45 minutes I was listening, she managed to say "Dog's Bollocks" three times. The Chris Evans Bridge-Burning Technique thrives yet.
Anyone want the Spice Girls screensaver? It's shit but it's spicey. And the shock news is that Geri's dumped her two-timing boyfriend - SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND? I heard she was into alsatians.
Oh the wind may blow and the sun may shine
And the rain may fall forever
That's why you hear the British whine
About the British weather.
Put it on, put it on...
Friday, 4 January 2008
The Price of Freedom is Eternal Vigilance
Thursday, 23rd January 1998
Well it's a bit of a pisser that you didn't get the earlier message, but that's the information jollygooddonkeytrack for you; as fast as it is, it's slower than you think. And I think loads, me.
Hah! Richard Branson met with The Pube on a transatlantic flight to JFK on Monday night to talk about Ginger Productions doing Virgin Radio. Chris said he only wanted to do the breakfast show, but NoelEdmonds-features told him they were perfectly happy with Russ and Jonno. Evans and Branson were reported to have returned separately. And now Radcliffe and the boy Lard are taking over - huzzah! Wonder how long THAT'll take to get old....
I'm pleased because next month both Blur and They Might Be Giants are releasing new albums. What tidbit of emergent charivari has pleased you recently?
That pianist joke doesn't work so well when it's not written down. If you try to tell it you suddenly remember how bad you are at telling jokes, you realise the punchline won't be funny and about halfway through you wish you hadn't started telling it in the first place. Well, not you, me. Bugger.
May we remind you that refreshments are available throughout the flight. On behalf of the captain, we sincerely hope that you do enjoy your holiday and look forward to seeing you again soon.
Well it's a bit of a pisser that you didn't get the earlier message, but that's the information jollygooddonkeytrack for you; as fast as it is, it's slower than you think. And I think loads, me.
Hah! Richard Branson met with The Pube on a transatlantic flight to JFK on Monday night to talk about Ginger Productions doing Virgin Radio. Chris said he only wanted to do the breakfast show, but NoelEdmonds-features told him they were perfectly happy with Russ and Jonno. Evans and Branson were reported to have returned separately. And now Radcliffe and the boy Lard are taking over - huzzah! Wonder how long THAT'll take to get old....
I'm pleased because next month both Blur and They Might Be Giants are releasing new albums. What tidbit of emergent charivari has pleased you recently?
That pianist joke doesn't work so well when it's not written down. If you try to tell it you suddenly remember how bad you are at telling jokes, you realise the punchline won't be funny and about halfway through you wish you hadn't started telling it in the first place. Well, not you, me. Bugger.
May we remind you that refreshments are available throughout the flight. On behalf of the captain, we sincerely hope that you do enjoy your holiday and look forward to seeing you again soon.
Thursday, 3 January 2008
Jellicle Cats, One by One, Picking 'Em Off with a BB Gun
Wednesday, 22nd January 1998
Saw "Cats" last night and it was pants. Too much dancing and not enough prancing. A little mincing would've been nice. There were very good bits, and the rest was a bit dull. So generally, kecks.
How do you address a cat? With a mallet.
Saw "Cats" last night and it was pants. Too much dancing and not enough prancing. A little mincing would've been nice. There were very good bits, and the rest was a bit dull. So generally, kecks.
How do you address a cat? With a mallet.
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Alien Schmalien
Tuesday, 21st January 1997
I dreamt I ran all the way home to England from Turkey, stopping only to admire some of the world's greatest electrical bridges, however I later realised that I had left my shoes on the boat, and that my passport wouldn't allow me back on the boat to get them back. So, y'know, pretty medium. How's your subconscious?
Did you see "Dark Skies" last night on Channel 4? It's like "X-files" with all the suspense, mystery and credibility taken out, but otherwise it's just as bad.
Gloom and doom.
I dreamt I ran all the way home to England from Turkey, stopping only to admire some of the world's greatest electrical bridges, however I later realised that I had left my shoes on the boat, and that my passport wouldn't allow me back on the boat to get them back. So, y'know, pretty medium. How's your subconscious?
Did you see "Dark Skies" last night on Channel 4? It's like "X-files" with all the suspense, mystery and credibility taken out, but otherwise it's just as bad.
Gloom and doom.
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