Square One

Just had time for a quick photo before my 5 minutes was up.
I love you all.

Brize Idiots

Status Quo miming 'Rockin All Over The World' in the shadow of a fighter jet at RAF Brize Norton for Children In Need.

Beautiful.

Aerial Schmaerial

Just sat listening to Kate Bush's much-touted new album.

Not sure whether I'm surprised by this or not, but it's really not that exciting. It sounds like Tori Amos left with too much time on her hands, some middle age musicians and one of those 'TV Sound Effects' albums to me.

What's not surprising however, is that after writing this verging on the pointless post I'm going to the pub rather than getting on with the writing that I said I'd crack on with. So I guess Kate might be a bit middle of the road (in fact it's actually good as one of those albums that are 'interesting during dinner muzak' that we used before Party Shuffles) but she did actually get round to writing it.

So I'm obviously hoping that it's not going to take me 54 years or what ever it took her for me to get this damned 5 minutes together but I wouldn't bet on it.

A bitter, twisted depressed moan in a boozer in 2059 anyone? I'll be 83 and I reckon full of enough bile (and piss) to do a great open mic slot.

And I'll have out-lived Ben Elton at least.

Straw Pygmies

Thanks Jack for making my mind up regarding Christopher Meyer's book. The serialisation in the Grauniad was tasty enough but having you getting all upset about it has just sold one more copy.

Oh and by the way, the Private Eye website has had a bit of a revamp and is far more worth a visit...

Legless

My day so far? Did I...

> Get on my new bike, bought during post-7/7 trauma (and when the smell of school children drove me off the buses) and 'cycle' to work. Only to find myself hit by shrapnel from a tube user who having been persuaded by her husband to use the buses 'for a laugh' lost her temper and detonated her leather portfolio. I write this while waiting for a surgeon to remove the bike from my shins, then my shins...

> Come round in my front room, still talking to the lifeless corpses of my dinner guests last night. On closer inspection they'd died from 'false grinning at pissed host'. The police, the fools, swallowed the 'typhoid' excuse. Again. Currently I'm getting pissed enough to call their families.

> Take a pair of shears to the front hedge, sweep up some leaves, drink some vodka and orange juice (surely the fuel of angels) and listen to some 'music'. All while slowly working up a slight panic at the fact that I really should start on a solid five minutes or I'm going to look like a tit.

By the way - good old Malden salt achieved more in a day than Bonjela in a week, and makes you want to drink enough Stella to fall off your shoes quite easily. I'm off for another one of those Vorange Juices...

'Broken News' Is Pretty Funny

A week of putting these two products in my mouth has resulted in absolutely nothing. I'm still sober and still have a mouth ulcer the size of a puddle. And I banged my little toe so hard last night I thought I'd broken it.

Frankly I feel a bit rubbish.

And this blog isn't helping. Rather lacklustre of late. Apologies.

But don't despair readers, I'm hoping to pick it up a bit soon and why not drop in on Danny Lipp while listening to some samples of Adapter Adapter. Links to the right. And don't forget Mr Goodballoon.

As if you would.

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