Sunday, July 31, 2005

I was an object of desire

I went out on the razzle-dazzle with a few charming folk on Friday night. We found an excellent little bar where I entertained the locals with some spectacular dancing - the better for my being drunk.

Without any preamble, I was nose-to-nose with a black-bearded, short man who was beaming brightly and thrashing like a cat chewing through a power cable. I understood him to be dancing.

The evening had been going well and I was in high spirits so I danced with our new friend. After a while I broke off and went to the toilet. Coming back, I saw black-beard standing with my group and I presumed he was pestering the ladies among the group. I cast shame aside and danced with the hot-blooded latin lothario to give the girls a break. He returned my chivalry by kissing me on the neck.

It was only then that I realised I had been the object of his amor. When I clarified my hetero status, he exclaimed "I see! I saw! I have seen!" and then went over to a friend of mine and shouted "I see! I saw! I have seen!" before walking off, a little embarrassed.

Apparently everyone else knew all along that this guy´s intentions towards me were not honorable. I think I need to get my gaydar recalibrated.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The Mighty Elephant

A mighty elephant is stomping through the jungle one day, in a foul mood, when a tiny armadillo waddles into his path.


"We´ll I´ve been ill," replies Mr Armadillo.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Washington, for the love of Big Animals

...and in other news this week, a Seattle man has died after having sex with a horse.

  • Click here and scroll to bottom story

  • A couple of points which raised an eyebrow:

    1) He died of a perforated colon, which gives a surprising answer to the question, who was on top?
    2) The horse was uninjured, thankfully
    3) Sex with large animals is not illegal in Washington State, but pair up with only a wee beastie to make the beast-with-two-backs and you're going down.
    4) So lovers of large animals should head to Washington State.

    And it's goodnight from him.

    Access to the netherworld just got easier!

    In Newquay, in Cornwall, UK, just behind the bus station there is a care home for the elderly, called Roundabout Nursing Home. So named? Because it’s on a roundabout.

    This is the same logic that leads you to number your children, which at least betrays an admirable lack of parental gooeyness. But naming an elderly care home after a non-descript roundabout is lack of imagination to the point of callousness.

    They might as well name it after the graveyard next door (really): St John’s final rest, access to the netherworld just got easier! Even industrial estates are more imaginatively named. “It’s very practical” Yes, but it seems more heartless than plastic bedding. Poor devils.

    Saturday, July 16, 2005

    Berserk we did go, verily.

    On Thursday I paid good money (twenty-five euros, no less) to watch an elderly man roam about a stage wearing nothing but a pair of 1970s trainers and a nappy. That man was one of The Presidents. In fact, I thought he was George Clinton until another fully grown man ambled on stage in jeans and a striped polo shirt with coloured strips of paper decorating his hair. He didn't need to do an awful lot for the crowd to go berserk. And berserk we did go, verily. Bananas, barking, cock-a-hoop.

    It was a spectacular concert.

    In a quiet moment I mused on which outfits the chap in the nappy had dismissed earlier that evening. Jeans and t-shirt? Nah. Gold lame catsuit? I'm too old for that kind of caper. Fuck it, it's a warm night and I'm approaching incontinence, I'll wear the nappy.

    I also wondered at the coincidence that way back in the 1970s this crazy loon call himself George Clinton and started a band called The Presidents and the past three US presidents have been George, Clinton and another George. Weird, no?

    Sunday, July 10, 2005

    Please pray for this man...

    The publicist for RnB chap, Omarion, issued a statement on Thursday, July 7, asking fans to pray for him because he had been in London when terrorists exploded four bombs in the city. According to Shana Gilmore, his publicist, "He wasn't hurt or anything, but just the fact that he was there and all that."


    Except that, according to Omarion, he has nothing to do with Shana Gilmore, or the company she works for.


    ...and according to Shana Gilmore she has nothing to do with Omarion


    which is all a bit fishy.

    Friday, July 08, 2005

    I felt very far from my friends and sister today

    When terrorists bombed Madrid last year, I felt very close to my friends and folks back home in London. A lot of them called, texted, emailed to see if I was OK. Today, in diametrically opposite circumstances, I felt far away. I didn't hear from my sister until after lunchtime and my imagination had already begun to swoop and dive. I flickered between two websites and the radio news for most of the morning, trying to pick up information.

    Later, I found myself wishing I had been there. That my friends had been through this weird day and I hadn't. It was a weird and selfish reaction but not one I'm ashamed of. Then, having spoken to and emailed a couple of them, I got the feeling that maybe it was more weird for me than for them. Maybe you take it in your stride when something shocking happens in your city - unless you are directly involved. I remember that about the Madrid bombings too - it really didn't affect me much on the day, other than to make me worry that I might be laid off. That was a selfish reaction that I am ashamed of.

    Wednesday, July 06, 2005

    Loathing Subsides...for the moment at least

    I seethe for 10 minutes a day at the open thievery and despicable gouging of fear that is the insurance industry.

    That was until I found this article about an insurance company which has offered triathletes insurance against a close encounter with the Loch Ness monster: .

    So bare is their face, so disarming their chutzpah, I have set aside my daily roil and instead doff my cap to their temerity.

    Tomorrow I will hate them again.

    Tuesday, July 05, 2005

    Ode to Goonhavern

    Down at the very tip of Cornwall,
    far from London´s madding crowds,
    there lies a sleepy sanctuary,
    Goonhavern. A haven for Goons.

    Far from the feck and the list,
    of modern life,
    fat bees waddle in the breeze,
    and clay woodland fauna gather in gardens.

    Garden gnomes become loyal friends,
    suspicious shrubs cause a rumpus,
    and Goons while away lazy afternoons,
    swivelling their eyes and giggling.

    Here the Goons have nothing to fear,
    For they are in their haven.


    At a chess convention in a posh hotel, the upper echelons of the chess community are enjoying welcome drinks and reliving past victories. The hotel manager stalks in, shouting, "Get out! Get out of my hotel! Everyone of you! Clear off and never darken my door again!"


    "I'm not having chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."

    Butcher´s Handle

    There is a butcher´s shop in northern Madrid called "La Matanza", which means "The Killing".

    As in, "Can I get you anything from The Killing while I´m in the area?"