You Are Not 12 Years Old

While being a nosy self-righteous prick today I overheard a man attempting to impress a young lady of the opposite sex:

"Did you see the Metro today?" she said.
"Oh, I don't read the Metro anymore"
"Why not?"
"Oh, I'm too busy trying to finish off my book and if I don't read it on the train I'll never get through it."
"Oh, what are you reading?"

In this split second, little did I know that my despair at the transparent 'intellectual' wooing technique of the young male and at the fact that I had nothing more interesting to do but listen to his drivel was going to get worse.

"Harry Potter" he replied.

And under British 'law' I would have been the criminal if, say, I'd forced his eyes under the coffee urn...

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

"According to grand jury transcripts, a police officer testified that after Mr Spector was handcuffed, he said: "What's wrong with you guys? What are you doing? I didn't mean to shoot her. It was an accident."

Mr Spector's lawyers said the statements he made should be thrown out because he was suffering withdrawal symptoms from seven prescription drugs when he talked to the police."

Er, fine. But is this neo-pinko, crazy-assed haircut the way to convince us? Unless I'm actually imagining the haircut, because I'm sure he's also wearing a clowns costume under his jacket.

Something's not right, I can't stop looking at him.

Really. I can't.

Cillit Bugger

Alright, it's now been a while and the strange guilt of not posting something lingers in the air like a dead rat. The smell of a dead rat. But as having something to write about is normally a prerequisite to actually writing something, I've been waiting around for something to hit me that isn't just about the Tory leadership race or any other currenty affairsyness.

Which is why a John Peel Day logo is the only update in weeks.

So once again I sit at the keyboard and hope that something actually happens if I just start writing. Which it hasn't. In fact it's only that I should be Cillit Banging the bathroom and doing the washing up that I'm sat here typing at all.

Which bodes well...