Cat-astrophe averted

Some of you will know that one of our moggies, Rumpole (latin name:thickio maximus), swallowed a chunk of string on Monday and had to go to the vets. Three days and a swift surgical procedure later and she’s fine. Just so you know.

You toucha my car…

What happened to slogan stickers on cars? You know the sort of thing “My other car is a porsche”, “this car may be slow but it’s paid for” etc. They used to be everywhere but I’ve not seen one in years, except for the one I saw last night which reminded me.

Sophie cynically reckons that it’s all about attitudes. Back in the olden days, when she first got a car, people saw cars as a fun thing – a cheap source of transport you could personalise and play with. Nowadays, they’re a status symbol. Each car is a stepping stone towards that flash Motah you’re meant to dream about. I hope that’s wrong

gosh and blimey

My last (and first) post possibly ranks as one of the most minimal blog entries ever (I’ve ruined it now …).

Anyhow – it’s still January, and not only did we get Ralphed at Christmas, but twice since. Oh, my poor aching liver.
Still and all, it’s been a nice and lively January, what with the Winter Ales Festival, the aforementioned Ralphing and Scott’s birthday this weekend (we’re off to Spice on Beech Road for a slap-up meal tomorrow). Maybe February should be the official “no drinking, no eating” time? After all, it is the shortest month …

Have a nice big fat pile of books to read, thanks to BookMooch.com and Santa bringing me some lovely pressies – favourite book recently was Sebastian Faulks’ “Human Traces” – amazingly enjoyable, beautifully written – have mooched more of his and am waiting with bated breath.

Other than that, just sitting around at home doing my humble job. It’s winter. Apart from the usual desperate urge for a Guardian, give me ONE good reason to leave the house!

Okay, that’s it for now. Have had a dab of Rioja and am therefore typing v-e-r-y slowly and carefully, so had better cease, if only for the sake of posterity.

Feed Me, Seymour

last post was a bit long and Grouchy. I’m currently trying to eat healthy and not drink.

The two can’t possibly be related, can they??

I found this Dilbert funnier than i should, too.

If only they could all be like me…

First off, i’ve not seen any of the “controversial” racism on Channel 4 as I’ve been avoiding the telly. However, judging by what’s been in the papers and what I’ve seen of Jade Goody in the past, the whole thing seem to be less about racism and more about bullying.

Jade Goody is a dimwit. A celebrity dimwit. The Thick One from Big Brother
which is REALLY saying something and which, let us not forget, she L O S T. Her whole career and celebrity status from then on has been based on her dimwittedness. She’s been in the public eye as the lovable idiot whose Just Like Us cos, hey, nobody REALLY knows, like, Stuff or, like, Reads books. And who’d want to watch a film in foreign?

And now it turns out she holds the sort of opinions that only the thick-as-mince wouldn’t dismiss out of hand? Who’d a thunk it?

So she’s taken back to the root of her celebrity, literally competing with, among others, a woman of outrageously superior ability, intellect, grace and charm in a popularity contest. Are we surprised that, when threatened, Jade reacts by returning to schoolyard politics? When I were a lad (jesus, heading back to teen land AGAIN, man?) the posh kids sneered at the kids who weren’t posh, the cute kids laughed at the plain kids, the athletic kids flexed their muscles on the weak kids, the clever kids browbeat the less gifted and so on. In CBB, there seems to be a divide between the people famous for having an actual skill/talent and those famous for their relationships or LACK of ability. How much of a shock is it that The One Famous For Being Thick lashes out at Shilpa Shetty not for her abilities but for the things Jade is and she isn’t – specifically White and English?

The latest Channel 4 reality show also seems to be in trouble. That’s “reality” in the sense of living on a tropical island filled with svelte 20-somethings, where your food and shelter is provided and you don’t have to bother with a job. Given that other reality shows involved locking the likes of Vanessa Feltz and Chris Eubank in a high-security building, where you could avoid them by the simple premise of not watching TV for a specified hour or two a day, I’m amazed how close their Reality mirrors my fantasies.

But I digress. The latest debacle involves an 18-year-old twit who, from her picture, appears to be slim, pretty and white announcing she can’t stand anyone fat, ugly or black. Is it just me who sees a pattern here?

More worrying is that from this, you’d think she was just over-tired and showing off. I wouldn’t like to have to defend some of the opinions I held when I was 18, but then I wasn’t expressing them on national TV, nor was I the product of a private education. In my naivete, I would have expected the superior private education system to instil at least some of the same values as my shabby comprehensive. If my folks had pawned their kidneys to send me off to Eton and I came back not understanding why bloody SLAVERY was wrong, there would be some serious explaining to do.

I can’t face actually watching either of them. Let me know what happens. And if any of them decide to actually work for a living…

Next Page →