October 22nd - October 28th 2001
Sunday A Luton thing
Saturday Unspecified
Friday Dennis and Justin
Thursday A few odd words
Wednesday Breakfast bars
Tuesday Go on my son
Monday Rear Admirals
Sunday 28th October 2001
A number of footballers are on trial, again, for assaulting a group of Asians after a night out. Arriving at Hull Crown Court to cover the case, a journalist was surprised to be directed, without asking, to the press gallery. "But how did you know I'm a reporter?" the journalist asked. The man gave him a hard stare and replied: "We don't wear sunglasses in 'Ull."
Leaving Dorian's jolly Halloween party last night, en route for the Spiral, my companions stopped for an al fresco pee-break. "Why are you pissing on the door-handle of that Mercedes?" I asked. Came the muttered reply: "...it's a Luton thing."
Saturday 27th October 2001
Obvious really. The National Health Service is a mess. Well-designed new hospitals are desperately needed. So who do you appoint as your design consultant? Why, The Prince of Wales of course.
Much in favour of peace in Northern Ireland though I am, I must say I'm mystified by the excitement generated by, as Paisley's DUP puts it, "an unspecified event where an unspecified number of weapons of an unspecified type were put beyond use in an unspecified way at an unspecified location."
Friday 26th October 2001
A shame, in a way, that Dennis Nilsen isn't allowed access to the interwebnet. It would solve a lot of his problems. He could distract himself pondering the enigma that is Justin Timberlake.
Thursday 25th October 2001
"You might think that but I couldn't possibly comment."
I guess I should put down a few odd words about what's been happening in my so-called life over the last few days:
Friday: I worked and didn't go out afterwards, which I consider unusually argute of me, given the days to come.
Saturday: Dinner at Andy's, which was most enjoyable - I hope I didn't over-do the deipnosophistry. Afterwards to the Spiral, and the usual collection of
scofflaws, dandiprats, and blatherskites.
Sunday: Where else but the RVT whence, after having my hallux assaulted, I lollygagged, as per, down the road to Dukes.
Monday: Worked again, assisted by the usual helpings of coprolalia and cachinnation.
Tuesday: Pop Quiz, where the toploftys amused themselves at the expense of the apple-knockers.
Wednesday: BarCode's sixth birthday and beer a pound a pint without having to higgle; appropriately enough I seem to have ended up drinking six pints - which no doubt explains today's thoroughly atrabilious
katzenjammer.
Wednesday 24th October 2001
This Sunday, New York will host a service of rememberance at the World Trade Centre site. Ten thousand bereaved children have been invited. Lord only knows what efffect it will have them but, by God, what a propaganda opportunity.
I can't help thinking we should be more surprised by this, but it feels like something we've always known: parts of Scotland are actually Canadian.
Am I the only one who reads about breakfast bars and thinks, hmmm, I wonder what time they open?
Tuesday 23rd October 2001
The following picture of David Beckham is reproduced without permission, and without comment:
Monday 22nd October 2001
It takes only a moment's thought to compute that The Telegraph, with its high readership amongst government employees, military men and senior churchmen, is probably read by more closet queens than any other newspaper in the world.
So it's always darkly amusing to see the paper reporting on stories that combine gay sex with other areas of interest to their well-educated readers.
Such as boarding schools ("He encouraged us to pull each other's trousers down and to take photos of each other's bottoms"), or cricket ("He then asked if he could look at the marks on the boy's buttocks"), or classical music ("People say that he lived life as a celibate and that he threw all his energies into his music. But I think that is highly unlikely.").
Sadly, whilst these quotes all appeared over one weekend, they didn't appear the same story. If that ever happens, I dare say can expect to lose a good proportion of the upper classes in one single burst of simultaneous erotic apoplexy.
A few days ago, the Pentagon illustrated the high standards of literacy in the American navy by circulating a photo taken on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, showing a bomb with the slogan "High Jack This, Fags" scrawled on it. Now they've apologised. And they're obviously sincere: the apology was announced by a Rear Admiral.
......previous entries