You're Never Coming Back

I love this song but until recently I'd blithely assumed that the fragrant Alison would also be going on the rocket.

The scene of her waving me off at the end of the video kinda knocks that on the head.

From Pills to Potions

It's re-assuring, isn't it, amid the daily miracles in the the evolution of medical science that your total health care needs can still be found on this spectrum.

Top Tip for Transexuals

Future transexuals, don't spend money on expensive operations. Just read this.

Tipping barbers

My barber [1] handed me five euro coins change from a twenty even though I could see plenty five euro notes in the till.

"Can I have a five note please?", I said.
"Oh yes, sorry ... sure", he said, embarrassed but also annoyed. My card well and truly marked.

The absolute cheek. Fifteen euro for a ten minute haircut is plenty 'nuf, I thought, my cheery "Goodbye" hanging in the air, ignored.

[1] I say "my", I daresay he cuts other people's hair

It's a Drum'n'Bass Ting

What is it?
Why it's a drum'n' bass ting, of course.
Sounds awesome. Even to me, 42.

Bulmers Pear

Presumably, like everyone else not labouring through life with the palate of a four year old, they used to think it was shit.

The Fashion

I'm no expert on the fashion that's for sure. But I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't follow it a bit. Almost everyone does. You'd have to be a complete helmet not to. The trick is not to follow it too closely. Always be aware where it's at but nip cross the road now and again. Take a meander round the back streets and meet up again by the town hall.

This preamble about the fashion is by way of saying that I've been a fan of this look for years now.
T-shirt worn underneath a country and western style shirt. Buttons undone. This has been my fashion now for ages. It's never been the fashion I don't think. Until recently. Now it's all over the place. All da kidz are sporting my look. How did that happen?

It seems all I had to do was mooch around for a few years drinking real ale and watching Celtic. Taking the kids swimming and going to gigs. That's all I did, more or less, and, somehow, the fashion just caught up with me.

The Parade

The St Patrick's Day parade in the village in which I live.

Blessedly this critically injured man was towards the tail end of a seemingly endless procession. But worry not. He's not critically injured in real life. It was only pretend. For the children's parade.

Hansen

According to the increasingly ludicrous Alan Hansen on Saturday's Match of the Day there are 4 approaches to marking your man.

1. go behind
2. stand off
3. go in front or
4. delegate.

No mention then of careering mindlessly into Willie Miller and allowing Shengeliaan an easy one on one with the hapless Alan Rough.

The Last Rainbow Fairy

The very last page of the very last Rainbow Fairy book I'll ever read. Helena the Horse Fairy. The youngest Darling Daughter is five today and is therefore too old for such infantile nonsense. Last night it ended thus:

"That was exciting", Rachel said, as she mounted Shadow, noticing how much easier it was this time, Kirsty nodded. "Yes" she said, "Now we just have to find the other six Magic Sporty Objects in time for the Fairyland Olympics.". She grinned. "I think this is going to be a fairy busy week!".

I grinned back at Kirsty. And in a silvery voice, reminiscent perhaps of Jack Frost himself, I cackled "Not for me it isn't, not for me ... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA...".

Man With Two Brains

Driving home yesterday my speedometer kept dropping from 70 straight down to zero. And then - suddenly - back up to 70 again. This happened four or five times and then stopped happening. My stomach jumped each time. It was quite an adventure. It's a weird sensation when your brain (both brains) ignore all they've ever been taught and believe the instrumentation aboard a Ford Focus instead.

WHISKI

There are two acceptable ways to spell the alcoholic beverage distilled from fermented grain mash.

Whisky and, to a decidedly lesser extent, whiskey. This is wank of the first order.

Christ Jesus

If "Christ Jesus" ever does come back I'm guessing he'll avoid this fucking tip like the plague.

Pub Quiz

Last night, entirely by mistake, we found ourselves in a pub where they were having a quiz.

"Who replaced Glen Matlock as the Sex Pistols bassist?".
Sid Vicious.

"Who, in 1982, described Mount Everest as being littered with rubbish from base to tip?"
No idea. Sherpa Tenzing?

Then, a very strange, opinionated question.
"Which musical genius sprung to prominence with Riverdance?"

An easy one surely. All around us people frantically whispering and scribbling down the wrong answer. To a question which literally has no answer.

Sellotape Trick

Ear phones sellotaped over her ears to stop them falling off (only a bottle of wine could have inspired such genius).

She's listening to Abba. Super Trouper. The rest of us to Leonard Cohen. Hallelujah.

Eldest daughter. "Is this Hallelujah?"
"Yes, the original".
Youngest, shouting. "It's not Hallelujah, it's Super Trouper".
"No we're listening to Hallelujah", I say.
Shouting even louder, "IT'S SUPER TROUPER"

This could easily have gone on either until the next track came on or her ear phones fell off again. Deadlock. The notion that we all weren't listening to Super Trouper just eluding her.

It's quite complex.