January 12th 2004 - January 18th 2004
Sunday You choose
Saturday Used schoolgirls
Friday Goofy
Thursday Heads up
Wednesday DIY
Tuesday Gap
Monday Those shoes
Sunday 18th January 2004
Which of these would you vote for?
(A) Martin Sheen, Paul Newman and Susan Sarandon
(B) Madonna, Alan Alda and Christopher Guest
(C) Edward Kennedy, Jamie Lee Curtis and Uma Thurman
(D) Barry Manilow and Chevy Chase
(E) Willie Nelson, Bonnie Raitt and Danny Glover
Congratulations, you have just chosen your Democratic candidate for 2004, selecting either (A) Howard Dean, (B) Wesley Clark, (C) John Kerry, (D) Richard Gephard or (E) Dennis Kucinich.
Saturday 17th January 2004
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Headline news Used schoolgirls? I don't think so. But you can see their dilemma. Damn those pesky tight column widths. And it does have to be "underwear"; you can almost hear the sub panting to use "knickers" but that's almost as long. You could try "schoolgirls' used undies", but then you have to sort out the first half of the headline. "Clampdown on Tokyo schoolgirls' second-hand smalls" might work... (Oh, the story? It's here.)
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Friday 16th January 2004
If it's Friday, this must be Venus
"Mankind is drawn to the heavens for the same reason we were once drawn into unknown lands and across the open sea" says President Bush.
Great! A whole new territory for geographically-confused Americans to get wrong:
"Jupiter, that's the one with the rings, right?"
"Pluto's moons are..Donald? and Goofy? Maybe?"
"Oh Mars ain't all that - kinda like the Grand Canyon. But flatter."
As to Uranus...let's not go there.
Thursday 15th January 2004
Last year, Blogadoon was: dreadful blur / cynical asperity / swimming hard against the tide / tremendously sexy / your worst nightmare / how nasty it was / Anna, Stella, Donatella / the dirty laundry basket / a bit better buttered / eight changes of costume / faintly grubby / Mardi Gras? Bah! / inappropriate behaviour / overaspirated / Open House / don't bother / never married / credibility gap / oops / homo-erotic with a small h / cue Uranus / parsons unknown / cornflakes in the wind / spilling stardust / periodically / bloody but unbowed / prowling around in the gloom / nasty bunion / colossal wreck / offloading spent material / falling to the floor in tears / infuriatingly impotent / never married / badgered if I know / come off it chum / throaty chuckles / alert but not alarmed / enfin la plage / dancing in the draught / oh charming / a drunken plunge / dramatic shenanigans / nativity rage / saturnalia my arse / a frescoed segment / no bobbles, no tassles / bending over backwards / anything clever / barking / more showing off / big.gay.news / having it off / exquisitely seedy / buried clues / pot kettle black / am-I-not-right?
Wednesday 14th January 2004
Tuesday 13th January 2004
When you worry that you may be borderline Aspergers (as I, and probably you, often do), you learn to live with the mixed feelings provoked by finding yourself, yet again, tricked unaware into over-well-worn chains of thought by familiar features of daily life.It's at its worst when you're already in that semi-trance-like state that make certain mildly-threatening situations - supermarket shopping, late-night walks home - just about bearable. Travelling on the tube does it for me every time.
Thus, whenever the loudpeakers crackle into action whilst I'm standing on a platform, I invariably think about how the best way to popularise the monarchy would be to have the Queen voice all the announcements ("Would Inspectah Sends...")
And don't get me started on "The next station is...oval."
But it's "Mind the gap" that's the worst. "I don't mind the gap," I always mutter, "I think it's quite a nice gap."
This tedious ritual may or or may not be mediated in future by a snugget (snippet, nugget) of information that I recently read: the voice that intones "Mind the gap", at least three or four times whenever a train arrives at certain stations, is actually that of Peter Lodge, the recording engineer charged with producing the announcement.
An actor, it seems, had already recorded a perfectly acceptable version, but the contract hit an insurmountable problem: the actor demanded repeat fees.
Monday 12th January 2004
It's a little known fact, but I once won second prize in the Haringay Arts poetry competition.
That was, ooh, over twenty five years ago (and you'll be pleased to know that the prize-winning poem is long-lost) but the urge to verse evidently lingers on, judging by the fact that I found myself striding home from The Swan the other night chanting:
You had that dodgy sandwich,
And some soup that gave you heartburn.
You cannot possibly want to eat again.
This may or may not have been the same night that, walking past Tobacco Dock, looking in vain for any evidence of Dermot O'Leary (the only evidence of Shattered was a slight increase in litter outside one of the arches), I spotted a slightly alarming swarm of young drunks walking towards me.
Anesthetised by alcohol myself, I sailed through the middle of them, smiling. A small black girl stopped inches from my face and asked: "Have you got a cigarette mate?"
I gave my usual response, which is to smile politely and shake my head in an I-dooon't-think-so kinda way, whilst wondering, since I wasn't smoking at the time, how she'd marked me down as a smoker.
And she sighed, looked down at my feet and said, "Funny...with them shoes I thought you would 'ave."
The crowd moved on as a young guy bringing up the rear grimaced at me and mouthed "Sorry, mate."
No apology necessary: I grinned all the way home.
......previous week
