Friday, September 30, 2005

Party politicals

Actual politics aside, does anyone else find it incredibly depressing when an 82 year old man is forcibly ejected by three heavies from a party conference? I mean, hello? How paranoid are we about a little well-earned criticism?

Bah. I do hate the way politicians are 'protected' from the people whose lives they govern. Besides, it was his own party conference, after all. It's not like he was there as a Tory interloper. I know they have to do their job 'n all, but the Prime Minister of Sweden just lives in an ordinary house on an ordinary street. No special treatment for him. He is just a man, doing a job. In Swedish.

Talking of which it's the Tory conference next week, which I'm sure will be really just about sizing each other up and making loud noises about becoming leader.

Come along children, play nicely.

I have been a bit unwell this week. I realised I was a touch dehydrated when I managed to force out a tiny bit of wee that was roughly the colour of earwax. And almost the consistency. Nice...

Right. I'm off to book my Bon Jovi tickets for Wembley (nonotreallyyousillies).

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

An apology

Hey, I haven't blogged in ages. Whoops. Sorry.

I'm buried under a sodden mound of work at the moment, which is a fantastically lame excuse, but a true one. I promise I will try and blog something amusing/meaningful/interesting/pretty to look at/worthwhile by the end of the week.


Thursday, September 22, 2005


Ladies, Gentlemen, fiends and friends, may I introduce to you, fresh from re-housing, it's...

You play bridge with me, and I'll play bridge with you.

For good reason I try toavoid talking about my job on this site.

But suffice to say that if you happened to be out and about in London this week and happened to be crossing a certain bridge at a certain time and witnessed a slightly ruffled, stressed young man, begging people in a terribly English sort of way that, if they possibly wouldn't mind at all, if they could just hang on here for a second while we take some pictures of this group of people, then that would be, gosh, just awfully nice of you (but expressing this in the medium of mumbles, flapping arms and eyebrow movements)... then that was me!


Wow, there are a lot of incredibly attractive people floating around in central London during the daytime.

It's enough to make you give up work and salivate for a living.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Season of Whispas and mellow Fruitandnuts

Is it just me or has anyone else started carboloading now that it's turned slightly colder?

I seem to be permanently starving and have just polished off a chocolate bar. It's not even lunch yet. And I craved pan aux chocolat this morning sooooo much.

I've also been sleeping really solidly, which would normally be nice but I'm groggy at work during the day.

I love summer. I love autumn. But this year the time it takes from one to change to the other seems to be happening veryquicklyspeed.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Lost of the Summer Wine

I have no idea which bit of the internet is from, but it's brilliant (thanks again, Mark):

Coming this winter CSI: Emmerdale.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Pay attention class

"Autumn has so landed and I love it." [Mark, 17 September 05]

In lieu of Trinny and Susannah just being just a bit pants, we present the FANNY and CLITORIS Autumn season fashion guide 2005.

1. Bags and shoes: When you see them you just have to go hell for leather.
Why are so many bags and shoes the same? Why is nothing new happening in footwear and accessories?

2. Key colours this season: Black, Navy, Burgundy, Grey, A Hint Of Orange, Nutmeg, Air Freshener

3. Student: The Look is IN IN IN.

4. Beauty is timeless. Make fucking time for it.

5. Shirts under jumpers: Plain or patterned? The debate rages on.

6. Beware scarves. BEWARE. It's a fine line.

7. Long coats - only when the sun is low in the sky in January and February.

8. Think nouveau retro chic. Now just put on what you were going to anyway and instantly feel better about it.

9. Have competitions with your friends to see who can get their stuff sold out from charity shops quicker.

10. Pom-poms kids - JUST SAY NO. Unless you are a kid. Obviously. I mean how many people did you see wearing capes? Exactly.

11. There is an area to achieve between smart and smartcasual. It is to be aimed for, Lets call it semi-smasual.

12. Men should not wear tights. Ever.

We thank you.

F & C

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Corporate terror

Horror of the week: tomorrow is our company... gulp... Away Day.

Oh it sounds so beguilingly 'jolly', doesn't it? Like a picnic by the seaside.

Still, it's not as bad as a mate of mine. Once every year they force out in the fresh air to play team games. Can't be having with that. It's not natural. It's a workplace, for crying out loud. They even give everyone the teams in advance so they can... practice.


Can you imagine having to play rounders for the first time since you were nine with Fran from accounts? Not that we have a Fran in accounts. Fran's hypothetical. Poor Fran. It's the chair she's got, you know.

Luckily all we have to do is troop up to my bosses place in the country (on a Friday. Hmmm. I see what she's done there, the cunning minx) and chat about... well us, really.

But it has meant I've had to do all my week's work in just under four days. Bumtits.

To get me through this trauma I've been listening to Diffusion's ridiculously silly and sublime bootleg of the Chemical and Righteous Bros, which can be found in all its silly gloriousness here.

I also have a few good things on Friday night to look forward to, which I will shove up here over the weekend.

There is a distinct whiff of Autumn in the air.

(Boz adopts pose of soothsayer-come-commuter. Lightening flashes. Thunder rolls.)

Wednesday, September 14, 2005


I have not used my walkman for over six months.

The world it is a changing.

AVOCADO WATCH: People we have leaves. In a funny reddy colour, which I wasn't expecting. I think I might call it Geoffrey. For no good reason.

Oh gods I wouldn't be naming my plants if I was having more sex, I'm sure. Or would I? Paranoid self-doubt!

Would ramble more but helping Damascus move flats in a bit.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Don't flash at me, telecommunications device

For some inelegant reason, probably designed for companies larger and more sophisticated than mine that use exciting inventions such as voicemail (and not a cheap ansaphone), the phone sitting on our desks have big red lights on the top. Presumably these are to tell us we have messages, for which we do not have the facility.

For some reason mine is always on, flashing off briefly once every 4 seconds or so.

It's driving me slowly mad. And I have no apparent way of getting rid of it.

That is all.

Monday, September 12, 2005

And now in sporting news

We won the Ashes!!

Just in time for coverage to disappear off to Sky.

To celebrate with me, please watch some goats fainting.

Go on. It's hilarious. And they don't come to any harm. It's a genetic thing. Allegedly. (Thanks to Mark for the tip off...).


We (not the royal we, the flatmates we) have just completed a 5k practice run around Clapham Common for this 10k run we've foolishly commited ourselves too.

Did it in about 28 minutes - which I'm so chuffed with I cannot tell you. I think it might be the longest I have run without stopping since School. That's a bit shocking, really.

But for the first time I think I might be able to complete the 10k. Yay!

And now I must return the excellent The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou to Blockbuster.

Such is life.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Exercise high!

I have a secret weapon. My training runs just taken on a whole new dimension. I shouldn't be suprised really. The missing element is a very old friend...


I'm serious! I've just got back from a 35 minute run - the longest I have had for literally years. And I think it's because I had half a bottle of wine with lunch. Obviously, I've had loads of water before and since, but I actually feel marvellous. Whoo-hoo!

Work, on the other hand, is a complete pile of toss.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Hello world...?

As everyone appears to be watching the cricket (256 for 4 as I types this, 63 overs), I am wasting my time reading Holy Moly's very brilliant Rules of Modern life.

Best ones so far:

Kanye West is not a service station on the M4.
Much like the members of The Beatles, Labour politicians will die in the wrong order.
Do not pick John Prescott as a 'Slap Happy' target.

Though I realise with horror than when ordering coffee in a public place I do, in fact, say "can I get..." and not "may I please have...". I have no idea when this happened.

Carry on!

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Splat, slice, stab, impale and fry

Splendid and tremendous* evening with Mark last night. We went to see Theatre of Blood at the National Theatre. It was a fabulous gothic riot of blood, gore, Shakespeare and high camp. And it was superbly funny.

The basic plot - based on a 1973 film - is simple; an embittered actor, his career killed off by savage reviews and awards rejection, invites a group of drama critics to an old and abandoned theatre, and slowly bumps them off by enacting upon them deaths from Shakespeare. Jim Broadbent steals the show as the vengeful Edward Lionhart. It had a very knowing side-plot about the National Theatre being constructed that was quite vicious.

I loved it, and can't do it justice here, so have a gander at this.

Incidentally I stole the above ToB image from the lovely Airside. Who are in part the alsoverylovely Lemon Jelly who Mark and I saw back in 2004 at the Forum. Yes. Could I get any more links into this post?


Look! Roots! Stalk bits! A general air of expectation and excitement!

Clearly I will have to re-home this soon. How exciting. A bit.

* I am in no way Alan Partridge. A bit.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Crapitating crap-bags

Yes. I know I’m supposed to go for a run after work today, but I don’t want to.

Excuse the grump, but I’m hot and sweaty as it is. And it’s Monday. And bleurgh.

And we came fourth in the pub quiz last night – continuing our steady downward trend. We bloody won a few months ago. But last night an entire half-round was devoted to the Ashes. I don’t know that much about cricket. Although this Thursday should be quite exciting.

Anyway. We’re sure the winners cheated. And we’re sure we sound bitter about it.

Have discovered this brill website that lets you search for other blogs by the nearest tube station.

Wow. We Londoners are cynical fiends – but it’s nice to know I’m not the only one regretting signing up for the 10k.

Although I do feel a bit better after heading out with flatmates and friends on Saturday night (an odd evening after a beautiful day – dark and strangely misty. Very Stephen King does south London.) and working out that 10k is around six miles.

Six miles. I can picture that. I may not want to run it, but at least I can picture how far it is.

Still chuckling away at the Dorothy Parker biography. A telegram to a friend in Hollywood reads:


Mmmm. I know how she feels.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Art, wit and gardening

Made free with my Tate membership again today by seeing the Joshua Reynolds exhibition at Tate Britain. Very good, very good. Didn't know much about him beforehand, I have to confess. But I had come across a few of his sitters before - including the really-rather-fabulous-for-an-aristo Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. Now there was a lady who blew a shit load of cash gambling, in between other more worthy political achievements.

The biography by Amanda Foreman is a riot, and fascinating. (who dear? me dear? socialist background? yes dear.)

And we 21st century things think we invented celebrity. Oh no.

I'm reading a biography of Dorothy Parker Lady D picked up second (possibly fourth of fifth) hand for a train journey, before she flew to South America. It's also great fun but I'm sorry, no one can drink that much and still be witty, can they? Can they??

Someone once asked her for a sentence using the word horticulture. Her reply was "you can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think".

Friday, September 02, 2005

Bugger Yossarian; Ernie lives!

Bit of an odd post today.

When I was at the sticky age of thirteen, I used to travel on the Northern Line everyday to school. Or the Misery Line as it was called by most people.

There was a serial scribbler who for several years periodically dotted the tubes with schoolboy wit and alterations, often changing the maps on the tubes, or adding in stations and comments on places and areas. He signed most things ‘Ernie Crabb’, and had quite distinctive handwriting. I and my best friend Marcus used to try and spot as many as we could, in the hot baking days of the summers of our youth (can you hear the violins? can you? don’t bother. I wouldn’t go back to being that age again for all the gold in Elton John’s gaff).

I have no idea who Ernie was, or what happened to him. For all I know he could have been a mildly rebellious middle-aged woman. He was certainly very funny (although typically I can’t remember much of it now).

The reason I have been thinking about ‘him’ again lately is this. Everyday on my way to work I have been walking past a site where they are constructing a new set of flats. (It should be noted that I walk this way to avoid the Northern Line entirely, and use the Victoria Line instead). For ages that had big wooden chipboard fences up painted blue, to protect the site as construction went on.

For a few weeks, every few days someone would come along in the night and, quite neatly, write the same name repeated across the boards, along with something odd or funny. The names would be usually of famous people, like Diana Ross, Lulu or obscure 70s bands, for no apparent reason. Inevitably it would be cleaned off, to be neatly replaced almost within 24 hours with something new. It was totally inoffensive, very endearing, and made me chuckle at 8am – which former flatmates will tell you is no mean feat.

Is Ernie alive and well in South London??

Things in New Orleans sound almost apocalyptic. We’re all just a hairs width away from chaos. But such proselytising does nothing for the people there who right now need a lot of very fast, practical help (and perhaps a president who is less of a knob).

Thursday, September 01, 2005

115 days to Christmas...

September? Already?

That means I have blogged across four months - that is a lot longer than I thought I would get around to doing, and I haven't nearly scratched the surface of all the meaningless tripe I have to offer.

So the weekend. It doesn't sound like much now, but I spent not a few hours of it just wandering around London randomly in the sunshine. I've said before I'm easily pleased, and true as that may be, it's always very inspiring to stroll round the city and see what humanity is up to. Hence the witterings about King's Road, I suppose!

Spent Saturday night in Crystal Palace with a bunch of Uni mates, including Flatmate Mark. Fantastic fun. And not just because of the three rum cocktails at the fantastic Domali Cafe. Then we headed to a great Thai resturant and ate several tonnes of delicious grub. Mmmmm.

The couple living in Crystal Palace who we gathered around are buying a flat - which still seems a scary and grown-up thing to me. But they are a brilliant couple and doing it for totally the right reasons. Plus they have a decent bit of travelling under their belts. All v stressful for them though.

Anyway. Saturday night ended up very silly with us on the floor of their current flat, rolling around with laughter. Wayhey!

On Monday I wussed out of going to the Notting Hill Carnival (was not in the mood for crowds) evening was spent in the delightful company of another friend in town. Really odd. I don't know if it was the weather or the holiday weekend, but it was really quiet everywhere. The bar we planned to go to was closed, and we were in central London, just off Oxford Circus. Chose a random pub and had it practically to ourselves. The poor barman was starved of human contact and brought our drinks over to us.

The sad truth of it is I cannot for the life of me remember what I did on Friday night. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Anyone? Lately I have been getting really bad blank spots from booze and I'm reasonably sure I wasn't sober... I'm sure it'll come back to me... Oh cripes I hope I haven't just offended anybody...