April 19th 2004 - April 25th 2004
Sunday Yo
Saturday He leaves a regiment
Friday Shortly
Thursday Ta ever so
Wednesday Cleaning up
Tuesday My doggie had to go
Monday How depressing
Sunday 25th April 2004
I do worry that somehow an out-sourcing contract has been arranged whereby my brain's downtime has been leased out to some second-rate provincial advertising agency.How else to explain that I woke up this morning thinking: Yo Danish?
(Mind you, a few days ago, it was "There's a girl works down the chip shop thinks she's Elvish" - which I quite like.)
Saturday 24th April 2004
Obituary watch
"John Isaac, who died on February 27, never married; his regiment was his family."
Friday 23rd April 2004
Crown Jewels
A thought to go with what turned out to be some of the most disappointing photos ever to appear:
Shorts are pulled down and genitalia grabbed - although we promised not to do that to Prince William. He played pretty well I think and gave as good as he got.
Thursday 22nd April 2004
As my steep decline into grumpy old manhood gathers pace, I realise I no longer know how to manage even the simplest of contemporary transactions.
Upon successfully completing the purchase of a packet of sweets, for example, does one say:
A: "Thank you", or
B: "Big ups to the Malteser-master, you da man, ugh, ugh!"
When you turn from the shop counter to find your way blocked by a sullen vacant-eyed teenage girl, is the correct reaction:
A: "Excuse me", or
B: "Outa my light, bitch!"
When a doe-eyed straggly-haired scruff accosts you from ankle-level, politely enquiring if you can spare a few pennies, is the correct response to:
A: Smile, tilt the head, and walk on, or
B: Lean down, stare him in the eye, and snarl: "Not in this lifetime, suckah!"
Wednesday 21st April 2004
"But one evening I was taken by surprise...
"First I was asked to observe how the roll of lavatory paper was divided into separate sheets with perforated lines between them.
"Then I was instructed how to hold the roll, and told that I must first tear off three sheets in one, then fold them so that the fold ran through the middle sheet, and then I wiped myself. Then I folded that whole piece in two, and wiped myself with it a second time.
"Then I tore off just two sheets, and folded them along the perforated line, and wiped myself with them. When I tore off two sheets, there was no second folding, no second wiping.
"I was to go on using just two sheets until I was clean, and then I was shown what a clean piece of paper looked like.
"Then I stood up, and, for the first time in my life, I could take it upon myself to pull the chain..."
The late Richard Wollheim, in an extract from a lengthy piece in the current London Review of Books, documents the details of what he came to see as an important rite of passage.
Too much detail, you might think. But how many other accounts have you read of this fundamental ritual? Very few, I'd hazard, and none written with sufficient care to virtually guarantee their future status as a set-piece in technical-writing courses across the world.
Tuesday 20th April 2004
Episode 1 Hollywood star walks into London police station, bleeding, and reports that his mobile phone has been stolen whilst he was taking his dog for a walk in a London park, at 4:30 in the morning.
Episode 2 He returns to police station to withdraw the allegation
Episode 3 He tells the Today programme that the injury was caused by him tripping over his dog.
Which leaves one vital question unanswered: Does Kevin Spacey own a dog?
Interestingly enough, none of the press reports deign to mention that the park in question is notable (at least according to my admittedly antique gazeteer) for the structure that it houses:
Monday 19th April 2004
Something to celebrate
This week is National Depression Week
All week.
......previous week
