Zero for “Love”? ZERO?!
|This Is My Life, Rated|
|Take the Rate My Life Quiz|
I feel like Birmingham City.
"You really should keep a personal log – why bore others needlessly?"
Whenever I am down, I just have to look at Will [Young], see that hat on at a jaunty angle and I can’t help but feel reassured that everything is going to be all right. Cheers Will.
No, cheers to you, Anthony Woodfield from Birmingham.
I was hugely saddened when Points of View-baiting Saturday morning show Dick and Dom in da Bungalow drew to a close at the weekend, so I was thrilled to come across a fan site offering music and video clips.
Highly recommended is the Stoke-on-Trent song. (“It’s a vibrant mix of the great and the good / Like Reginald ‘Spitfire’ Mitchell and Josiah Wedgwood“) but I suggest you spend at least a few minutes clicking through the links to remember one of the greats of kids telly.
Seemingly loathed by just about everyone over the age of 13, hopefully it will be remembered by people who actually watched it as a show which was freewheeling, funny and inventive right up to the end. Love it or hate it, we shall surely never see its like again.
Isaac Hayes has quit South Park because it features “inappropriate ridicule” of religion. Earlier this year the show did an episode satirising Scientology, having previously “done” Catholicism and other religions.
Leaving aside this specific case, I did start thinking more generally about the whole religious mockery issue. From South Park to Jerry Springer: The Opera to the Danish cartoon controversy, it seems that whenever religious types campaign for religion to be respected, what they really want is for their religion to be respected.
We’d all be better off without religion. (controversial!)
Let’s rewind to Thursday night, where once more, a drunk man zeroed in on me on the train. “Where’s this train going?” “Hunts Cross” “Oh shit, I’m on the wrong train, I want to go to Southport.” “Yes, you’re going the wrong way.” “Where are we going?” “Hunts Cross. But if you get off at Brunswick…” “I’m going the wrong way.” “Yes, get off at Brunswick and cross over and get the train back to Central.”
Seems that I’m a magnet for drunk men, and not in a good way. I hope he got home OK; it was 11.15pm and we were on the penultimate southbound train of the night, which was due to pass the final northbound train at Brunswick. There’s something deeply disconcerting about arriving at Liverpool Central and seeing that the “next 3 trains” indicator is only showing two trains on it… BECAUSE THERE ARE NO MORE TRAINS AFTER THAT!
On the subject of trains, I’ve noticed that crap but free newspaper Metro is now available to Merseyrail punters. The end result being that trains are now littered with discarded Metros in addition to the crisp packets and lager cans that were there previously. However, it was worth it for the amusing celebrity lookalike they printed. Well, I thought it was funny, anyway.
An extra-rare treat for you all now: a work-related rant! Part of my job involves calling prisons to arrange for solicitors from the firm I work for to go and visit — yes that’s the type of work I’m in: lovely, isn’t it?
Anyway, I had cause to phone two separate prisons today. The switchboard operator at the first managed to keep me on hold for an inordinate length of time before cutting me off. This happened not once, not twice, but thrice! The second prison informed me that they had no visiting slots for next week, but were not yet taking bookings for the week after, so if I wanted to arrange a visit — tough.
Suffice to say, by the time I finished dealing with them I felt like killing someone. I resisted the urge, however — mainly because I’d end up in prison and, judging from my experience today, I’d never get any visitors.
I hate my job. On the plus side, on Monday we have an off-site meeting which will be a complete waste of time and provide ample opportunities for me to practise my “I’m paying attention to what you’re saying and not daydreaming of adventures in far-off lands, honest” face.
The title of this post could do with a bit of extra punctuation for clarity. Oh well.
I’m an uncle again, that’s pretty cool.
This is the 4th nephew to come along, and I’ve realised why being an uncle is much better than being an actual parent: you can play with the kid, spend time with him, entertain him as much as you want, but the minute he starts crying, it’s straight back to mummy while I go out for a latté. Hurrah!
Robert wants a Mac Mini.