Cats. And the consequences of cats. Listen, watch and learn:
http://climbtothestars.org/archives/2008/04/24/the-neighbours-cat-won/
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Until a few days ago, I had no idea if I was going to vote for Boris or Ken. I don’t really want either of them to win, but despite never having voted Tory in my life, I was tempted to vote for Boris. Why? Because it would be quite funny watching him fuck things up so royally. He’d fuck them up so badly it would, eventually, be bad enough even to wipe that silly impish grin off his face.
I know he plays up his buffoonery, I know he’s not as stupid as he’d like us to believe, but he’s clearly out of his depth. I’ve only watched one debate but Ken wiped the floor with him rather neatly, I thought. Studio floor came up lovely. That mop of blond hair is clearly good for something.
Then I read Charlie Brooker’s very funny Guardian column on why he’s voting for Ken, and that helped sway me. That and the fact that if the Evening Standard want Ken to lose so badly, it’s got to be worth voting for him just to spite them. Recent issues of the Evening Standard are reminiscent of the 1980s Private Eye spoof Daily Mail headline: AIDS THREAT TO LABOUR VOTERS: VOTE TORY AND WIN A MAESTRO. They make Robert Mugabe look like a subtle spin-meister.
Wind chimes. Why? Why why why why why?
Our garden has many other gardens backing on to it, and now a second neighbour has decided that the tree at the bottom of their garden wasn’t quite cutting it as a tree. It needed something else. Blossom and apples? Meh. I know, they must have said, let’s nail some wind chimes to it.
I hate wind chimes, their smug twinkly, plinkly, new age arseing noise. They are at the bottom of their garden so they can ignore them but they are very close to my back door.
Tonight, just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I was standing in the back garden trying to nail the back door back together - it had been split in two by a HUGE gust of wind. It was like something out of Consequences. My life is spinning around me, the weather is against me, come on Ye Almighty what can you throw at me now?! Then I heard the bloody fucking wind chimes.
Credit card company egg say they are ditching 161,000 customers with poor credit ratings.
But it looks like that’s a lie - if the comments on the BBC web site and on the Radio 4 Today programme are anything to go by, they’re ditching the customers who pay their bills off every month (making no money for egg) and keeping the ones who pay interest.
Bad egg.
Today in haste I opened a kitchen cupboard and a bottle of balsamic vinegar and a bottle of soy sauce fell out and smashed on the floor. The floorboards were bathed in a tasty, if crunchy, marinade.
It wasn’t the almost-empty bottle of soy sauce, mind you. The unopened, full one. Kikkoman, but only the cheap stuff. Brewed in the Netherlands. Goes down nicely with a can of Heineken brewed in Osaka.
I bought a cross-cut shredder from Tesco. It stopped working, but they won’t take it back because I can’t find the receipt. I think I must have shredded it.
…an aeroplane passes in front of the moon and turns from blinking lights to perfect silhouette.
Reading Calvin and Hobbes in bed, I turn out the light and briefly turn on the radio to check the alarm. First word I hear is “Calvinistic”.
Just now, watching Cape Wrath. Line of dialogue: “How’s Jack Donnelly?”. I turn to the bookcase and the first thing I see are the words MILLS/DONNELLY.
I’m no ‘green champion’ - I do compost all appropriate kitchen waste and I recycle paper, but have been known to throw tin cans, bottles and plastic in the bin.
But this toothbrush makes me mad. It contains a non-replaceable normal AAA Duracell battery. You can’t replace it because if you try, the thing disintegrates inside and won’t work any more.
We salvaged the motor though and William made an aeroplane out of it. Or a sonic-screwdriver. We’re not sure. But it buzzes and spins and he loves it.
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