Recently-ish, in the habit I’ve grown accustomed to now, I had a birthday. This temporal landmark doesn’t always seem to inspire a massive shower of gifts in the way that one quietly hopes it will, however I do from time
The future is orange. You’d think it would be blueshifting, really.
OK so I just got a text from my mobile network (name removed in case anyone takes umbrage): Hello from XXXXXX. Just to let you know we have made some improvements to our network in your area. So, you should
Est le discours du chauffeur de taxi composé de merde?
This evening I had my usual free-ranging type of conversation with a cab driver whose cab I happened to be in the back of, and he mentioned his surprise that more people in London don’t just start talking to each
Whoops, spoke too soon
Seems I misunderestimated the massive and wideranging talents of the Royal Mail. Got a card through the door to say “we tried to deliver a parcel but it wouldn’t fit through your letter box – come & get it!”, so
Yaddle-deedle-deedle-dee-dee-dee-dee-diddy-diddy-dum
I know that sitting around wishing for vast amounts of cash to appear in one’s bank account is a fairly silly thing to be doing, however wouldn’t it be nice to be able to convince once of these guys to
Dodgy Brothers Used-Car-Cash-Milking-Sophistry Emporium
Being a reasonably ethical chap I suppose I am continually flabbergasted at some of the activities my fellow human beings will undertake in order to get ahead in life. In a system where there’s a finite amount of resources, given
Marinade (not for the squeamish)
For reasons just beyond my understanding the room cleaners in my Paris hotel yesterday made off with the remaining pair of fresh boxer shorts I had for the weekend. Of course I didn’t notice this until 5:50 this morning when
Err, I must be drunk? It says here that I am. Says you are too.
As reported in The Sunday Telegraph (admittedly it was a fortnight ago, but blog posts don’t just fall out of the sky you know) the New South Wales Office of Liquor and Gaming has drawn up some new intoxication guidelines.
Randall Monroe for Prime Minister. Of something.
Rrrrrock et rrroll!
It’s not as often as I’d like that I get the chance to do a random quick dash out to Europe based on a wafer-thin premise, however Big Pete’s insistence that we go to an Iron Maiden gig provided just