I must not:
i) Play on a pool Tour without checking out where the first event is held (ie. Southampton in Hampshire rather than Chatham in Kent). The train to Chatham is horrible, especially when you are not even supposed to be there.
ii) Play like an absolute tool when I get there and expect to beat good players playing with a blasé attitude because I assume I am better than them. This rarely works…
iii) Travel anywhere with my mate Shaggy who seemingly relies on the draw of a card or the reading of runes to decide what is happening on any particular day. He is potentially a bigger idiot than I am and I must remember this.
iv) Laugh when people on public transport threaten to slit my throat as this tends to only provoke them.
It’s been a long day…
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
Man About Town…
I have a confession… To be fair it’s not much of a confession. It’s nothing along the lines of ‘You see those two blokes in Brokeback Mountain. Well that’s me, that is…’ But it is surprising none-the-less.
So here goes… ‘I quite like shopping for clothes.’
My new-found fondness for attire purchasing began at the start of the January sales when I had some extra cash in my bank account and without even questioning it I decided to buy myself some new clobber.
At one point the very thought of me going shopping for clothes would have brought hoots of derision from any acquaintance who happened to around. And to be fair they had a point as my fashion sense resided somewhere between ‘remedial’ and ‘non-existent’.
But now I’m a very different kettle of style-conscious fish because the missus has carefully nurtured me (ie. ‘You’re not going out in public with me dressed like that. Take it off! Idiot!’) into someone who can now be trusted to buy his own clothes without adult supervision. Well, most of the time.
Anyway my latest purchase is a new coat that looks like a posh donkey jacket. I bought this yesterday (supervised) and I’m very taken with it.
I am an utter dandy – or maybe I am just an utter ponce. It’s definitely one or the other…
So here goes… ‘I quite like shopping for clothes.’
My new-found fondness for attire purchasing began at the start of the January sales when I had some extra cash in my bank account and without even questioning it I decided to buy myself some new clobber.
At one point the very thought of me going shopping for clothes would have brought hoots of derision from any acquaintance who happened to around. And to be fair they had a point as my fashion sense resided somewhere between ‘remedial’ and ‘non-existent’.
But now I’m a very different kettle of style-conscious fish because the missus has carefully nurtured me (ie. ‘You’re not going out in public with me dressed like that. Take it off! Idiot!’) into someone who can now be trusted to buy his own clothes without adult supervision. Well, most of the time.
Anyway my latest purchase is a new coat that looks like a posh donkey jacket. I bought this yesterday (supervised) and I’m very taken with it.
I am an utter dandy – or maybe I am just an utter ponce. It’s definitely one or the other…
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Number Of The Week!
This week’s number of the week is ‘shitloads’ because that is the amount of coverage given by most of the British press to the murder of a solicitor in Kensal Green when compared to another killing committed in Ladbroke Grove three weeks before.
Both murders were brutal (one a stabbing and the other a shooting) and the pain experienced by both families of the deceased must be pretty unimaginable. Your heart goes out to them.
As I also live in the area and know that both attacks could well have been me if I was travelling home late at night I’m pretty shocked by it all. It’s quite sobering to know it could have been you...
But compare the coverage given to both incidents and you’ll notice a startling difference. The killing of the lawyer in Kensal Green got huge full-page coverage over several days while the man murdered in Ladbroke Grove got a few paragraphs at best.
Could this be because one victim was white and middle-class and the other possibly wasn’t? Apartheid remains alive and well in the British press.
There are times I am ashamed to be a journalist…
Both murders were brutal (one a stabbing and the other a shooting) and the pain experienced by both families of the deceased must be pretty unimaginable. Your heart goes out to them.
As I also live in the area and know that both attacks could well have been me if I was travelling home late at night I’m pretty shocked by it all. It’s quite sobering to know it could have been you...
But compare the coverage given to both incidents and you’ll notice a startling difference. The killing of the lawyer in Kensal Green got huge full-page coverage over several days while the man murdered in Ladbroke Grove got a few paragraphs at best.
Could this be because one victim was white and middle-class and the other possibly wasn’t? Apartheid remains alive and well in the British press.
There are times I am ashamed to be a journalist…
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Girls On Film…
Went to see Jarhead with the missus and it prompted the following conversation:
Missus: ‘Did you like it?’
Me: ‘I thought it was pretty good.’
Missus: ‘I thought you’d like it…’
Me: ‘Well, it’s only fair I got to choose. After all I went to see a chicks’ film with you last week.’
Silence.
Missus: ‘We went to see Brokeback Mountain last week…’
Me: ‘Yes. Archetypal chicks’ film…’
Missus: ‘About gay cowboys?’
Me: ‘It’s more sheepboys than cowboys…’
Missus: ‘Don’t change the subject.’
Me: ‘It’s not the subject matter of a film but the emotional content quotient that counts.’
Missus: ‘So chicks’ films are anything that doesn’t involve things or people getting blown up.’
Me: ‘That’s pretty much my categorisation.’
Missus: ‘So 21 Grams or Schindler’s List are chicks’ film according to you?’
Me: ‘I’d say so…’
Missus: ‘I’ve married an idiot.’
Missus: ‘Did you like it?’
Me: ‘I thought it was pretty good.’
Missus: ‘I thought you’d like it…’
Me: ‘Well, it’s only fair I got to choose. After all I went to see a chicks’ film with you last week.’
Silence.
Missus: ‘We went to see Brokeback Mountain last week…’
Me: ‘Yes. Archetypal chicks’ film…’
Missus: ‘About gay cowboys?’
Me: ‘It’s more sheepboys than cowboys…’
Missus: ‘Don’t change the subject.’
Me: ‘It’s not the subject matter of a film but the emotional content quotient that counts.’
Missus: ‘So chicks’ films are anything that doesn’t involve things or people getting blown up.’
Me: ‘That’s pretty much my categorisation.’
Missus: ‘So 21 Grams or Schindler’s List are chicks’ film according to you?’
Me: ‘I’d say so…’
Missus: ‘I’ve married an idiot.’
Thursday, January 12, 2006
By The Book...
The boy has a new hobby. I say hobby… It's more like a humorous compulsion.
Every time we now walk into a book shop and we have a few minutes to browse he goes to the Bible section and picks one or two up and moves them to the fiction section.
Now that's comedy...
Every time we now walk into a book shop and we have a few minutes to browse he goes to the Bible section and picks one or two up and moves them to the fiction section.
Now that's comedy...
Kids’ Stuff!
Went to see Tintin In Tibet at the Barbican last week. The missus is a mad Tintin fan and if she had her way I’d doubtless be dressed in pale slacks and a blue jumper and have my hair dyed blonde with a little sticky-up bit at the front.
The show was fantastic and it reminded why theatre shows for kids are usually pretty good to watch – because they have to employ every trick in the book to keep the little buggers watching. And this show was no exception. It was beautifully choreographed, visually engaging and it also managed to transfer the clean lines and colour palette of Herge’s books to the stage. Clever stuff.
The other highlight of the weekend was a trip to see Brokeback Mountain. Because this is a film about two cowboys shagging it immediately became Bareback Mountain in my head – but that’s because I’m secretly a sniggering 13-year-old who likes rude jokes and still thinks men kissing is a bit funny. The film was very good, though, and Heath Ledger is probably a certainty for an Oscar for his portrayal of a cowboy too scared to let his real love speak its name.
The film also prompted the following discussion between me and the missus:
‘Did you like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really? I didn’t think it was your sort of film…’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It didn’t have things being blown up.’
‘I can do sensitive films.’
‘Yeah…’
‘I can. I can do sensitive all the time. I’m a writer. Cut me and I bleed emotion all over the page…’
‘Shut up and get on the bus! Idiot…’
Sometimes my wife just doesn’t understand me. But that’s because I occasionally talk in Esperanto…
The show was fantastic and it reminded why theatre shows for kids are usually pretty good to watch – because they have to employ every trick in the book to keep the little buggers watching. And this show was no exception. It was beautifully choreographed, visually engaging and it also managed to transfer the clean lines and colour palette of Herge’s books to the stage. Clever stuff.
The other highlight of the weekend was a trip to see Brokeback Mountain. Because this is a film about two cowboys shagging it immediately became Bareback Mountain in my head – but that’s because I’m secretly a sniggering 13-year-old who likes rude jokes and still thinks men kissing is a bit funny. The film was very good, though, and Heath Ledger is probably a certainty for an Oscar for his portrayal of a cowboy too scared to let his real love speak its name.
The film also prompted the following discussion between me and the missus:
‘Did you like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really? I didn’t think it was your sort of film…’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It didn’t have things being blown up.’
‘I can do sensitive films.’
‘Yeah…’
‘I can. I can do sensitive all the time. I’m a writer. Cut me and I bleed emotion all over the page…’
‘Shut up and get on the bus! Idiot…’
Sometimes my wife just doesn’t understand me. But that’s because I occasionally talk in Esperanto…
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Old smut...
Elton John was arrested for indecent exposure at his wedding.
Apparently he got confused when the vicar asked him to put his ring on husband David's finger...
Apparently he got confused when the vicar asked him to put his ring on husband David's finger...
Friday, January 06, 2006
The Hit Man And Her
‘It’s the little things in life that keep you going… like imagining killing your husband and getting his life insurance money!’
I no longer worry when the missus lends herself to violent thoughts so when she offered this gem on Wednesday morning I knew I was safe. But that’s because it’s when she’s calm and seemingly at peace that I now know to be wary.
Take several weeks ago when she was curled up in bed snoozing. I put my arm around her and prepared to curl up for the night and an elbow suddenly flew at my face. I yelped and she half-awoke…
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘You elbowed me in the face!’
‘I didn’t. I was asleep.’
‘Well you sleep-elbowed me then.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Just curling up to you.’
‘Well let that be lesson then…’
And she promptly fell back to sleep. It’s like martial arts. When you know an attack is coming it’s easy to defend but when it’s out of the blue... Ouch!
One of my Aussie chums has also given the following number of the week. It concerns an Aussie rugby player who played for the Sharks, my adopted side since seeing them play about five years ago when in Sydney. I’ll leave it to him to explain:
‘The greatest Shark died yesterday. Steve Rogers (CEO of the Sharks) committed suicide at only 51. He was suffering depression. He was a veteran of 231 first grade games: 202 for the Sharks and 29 for St George.’
I reckon that makes 202 be the number of the week. RIP Steve.
I no longer worry when the missus lends herself to violent thoughts so when she offered this gem on Wednesday morning I knew I was safe. But that’s because it’s when she’s calm and seemingly at peace that I now know to be wary.
Take several weeks ago when she was curled up in bed snoozing. I put my arm around her and prepared to curl up for the night and an elbow suddenly flew at my face. I yelped and she half-awoke…
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘You elbowed me in the face!’
‘I didn’t. I was asleep.’
‘Well you sleep-elbowed me then.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Just curling up to you.’
‘Well let that be lesson then…’
And she promptly fell back to sleep. It’s like martial arts. When you know an attack is coming it’s easy to defend but when it’s out of the blue... Ouch!
One of my Aussie chums has also given the following number of the week. It concerns an Aussie rugby player who played for the Sharks, my adopted side since seeing them play about five years ago when in Sydney. I’ll leave it to him to explain:
‘The greatest Shark died yesterday. Steve Rogers (CEO of the Sharks) committed suicide at only 51. He was suffering depression. He was a veteran of 231 first grade games: 202 for the Sharks and 29 for St George.’
I reckon that makes 202 be the number of the week. RIP Steve.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Oz Awards
I’ve decided to award prizes to some of those who contributed to the fun and games of my recent trip to Oz. So in no particular order are:
Insult Of The Trip Award: Goes to the pissed wino standing outside the bottle store on Oxford Street in Sydney. He repeatedly badgered me for a spare dollar and I repeatedly refused him as politely as I could. When he realized he wasn’t getting any joy he went for a killer insult after looking me up and down for any potential weak spot to attack. He could have insulted my big nose, my specs, my loud tourist shirt, my English accent – but instead he went off-road and came out with ‘Well thanks a lot, yer hat-wearing idiot!’ Genius as I was wearing a hat...
Comedy Of The Trip Award: Goes to We Can Be Heroes: Finding The Australian Of The Year. You won’t have heard of this and neither had I until my pals bought me it for Xmas. It’s mock documentary where Oz comedian Chris Lilley plays five different Aussies who are all nominated in the regional finals of the Australian Of The Year Competition. It’s brilliantly funny and the best thing I’ve seen this side of Peep Show.
Fact Of The Trip Award: We did the Sydney Harbour Bridge Walk and the guy taking our group up the bridge told us that it takes 5.6 seconds for anyone wanting to jump off the bridge from its highest point to hit the water below. Nice thing to know when you’re several hundred metres up in the air…
Surfer Of The Trip Award: Goes to my stepson who persevered for three lessons until he got up on the board and stayed up on it. I got up straight away and thought I was a natural – only to spend the next four lessons falling off like a 12-toed inbred village idiot.
And yes it was a bloody fabulous trip!
Insult Of The Trip Award: Goes to the pissed wino standing outside the bottle store on Oxford Street in Sydney. He repeatedly badgered me for a spare dollar and I repeatedly refused him as politely as I could. When he realized he wasn’t getting any joy he went for a killer insult after looking me up and down for any potential weak spot to attack. He could have insulted my big nose, my specs, my loud tourist shirt, my English accent – but instead he went off-road and came out with ‘Well thanks a lot, yer hat-wearing idiot!’ Genius as I was wearing a hat...
Comedy Of The Trip Award: Goes to We Can Be Heroes: Finding The Australian Of The Year. You won’t have heard of this and neither had I until my pals bought me it for Xmas. It’s mock documentary where Oz comedian Chris Lilley plays five different Aussies who are all nominated in the regional finals of the Australian Of The Year Competition. It’s brilliantly funny and the best thing I’ve seen this side of Peep Show.
Fact Of The Trip Award: We did the Sydney Harbour Bridge Walk and the guy taking our group up the bridge told us that it takes 5.6 seconds for anyone wanting to jump off the bridge from its highest point to hit the water below. Nice thing to know when you’re several hundred metres up in the air…
Surfer Of The Trip Award: Goes to my stepson who persevered for three lessons until he got up on the board and stayed up on it. I got up straight away and thought I was a natural – only to spend the next four lessons falling off like a 12-toed inbred village idiot.
And yes it was a bloody fabulous trip!
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