Lightweight

Marc on the journey home last night. Youngsters these days just can't hold their drink.

Puffs

I do feel sorry for politicians sometimes. Whenever one of them admits to having smoked cannabis in the past they never seem to have got any pleasure out of it - they always say something like "It was only one or two puffs" or "I didn't inhale" or "I didn't really enjoy it". When will one of the poor sods admit that they took drugs because they liked it?

wot a lowd ov nonsuns

In the latest example of the strategy "if we lower the bar, more children can get over it", some woman called Masha Bell (presumably that was originally "Mashable" but she's simplified the spelling) claims that if we dumb down spelling it will improve literacy.
(Click here to see article)

She says:
"Worldwide, English spelling wastes zillions, not onely in terms of time and effort, but in real munny too: for remedial education and to suport functionally illiterate adults. The latter ar also mor likely to becum yung singl parents, end up in jail, be adicted tu drugs and alcohol and hav poor helth."

I find it rather ironic that she managed to spell "functionally illiterate adults" correctly.

Lucky escape

I felt the full force of the terror threat in London the other day, and I can tell you it wasn't a pleasant experience. As I entered Lancaster Gate tube station, there was a suspicious-looking character just inside the entrance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small detonation device and placed his thumb on the button, poised to do the dirty deed. By this point I was rooted to the spot, too terrified to react. Fortunately a heroic member of LU staff leapt across the lobby with a combination of grace, speed and athleticism. He bravely thwarted the attempted atrocity by politely pointing out to the man that he would have to go outside if he wanted to smoke.

Allez allez allez!

To all the grumpy old cynical farts in East London, Le Tour's visit to Londres was a marvellous spectacle, worth every penny. Where else can a million people go and see a major sporting event for free in blazing sunshine on the streets of our fair capital city?

I look forward to the climb at le Côte de Farthing Common later today.

Round the bend

Several years after the introduction of bendy buses onto the streets of London, I'm still none the wiser as to the advantages of putting the second deck behind rather than on top of the first.

I got on a bendy 207 the other day and swiped my Oyster card on the reader. Immediately I felt rather foolish, as it appeared that it was a free bus for all the other passengers.

As the front of the bus reached the stop where I wanted to get off, the driver wasn't allowed to open the doors as he had to wait until the whole of the bus was at the stop. In order for this to be possible, the bendy bus in front would need to pull away. In order for this to be possible, the bus needed to take a line which would take it into the opposite lane, thus had to wait for a significant gap in the oncoming traffic. So, more than 5 minutes after reaching the bus stop, I was able to alight. Then I tried to cross the road but couldn't because there was a huge sodding bendy bus in the way.

I say bring on the much-maligned Ealing tram, it's got to be an improvement.

Reasons to be cheerful

Just been listening to some CDs and I've decided that the greatest lyrical genius of the 20th century wasn't Dylan or Gershwin or Half Man Half Biscuit, it was clearly Ian Dury. And the music's dead funky too.
_________________________________________

"Van Gogh did some eyeball pleasers.
He must have been a pencil squeezer.
He didn't do the Mona Lisa,
That was an Italian geezer.

Einstein can't be classed as witless.
He claimed atoms were the littlest.
When you did a bit of splittingness,
Frighten everybody shitless.

There ain't 'alf been some clever bastards (Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)"
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"Sex and drugs and rock and roll is very good indeed"
_________________________________________

"Just cos I ain't never 'ad no nothing worth 'aving never ever never... ever.
You ain't got no call not to think I wouldn't fall into thinking that I ain't too... clever.
And it ain't not 'aving one thing nor not another either neither is it anythink... whatever.
And it's not not knowing that there ain't nothing showing and I answer to the name of Trevor... however,
Knock me down with a feather, clever Trevor"
_________________________________________

"40 year old housewife Mrs Elizabeth Walker of Lambeth Walk,
Had a husband who was jubblified with only half a stalk,
So she had a milk of magnesia and curry powder sandwich and half a pound of uncut pork,
Took an overdose of Omo, this made the neighbours talk"

Let's all shout at nutters II

Keith Allen was the latest British journalist to lose his rag in the face of religious fundamentalism, when he interviewed the Westboro Baptist Church.

Q: When you engage in that despicable act...
A: You're just chicken shit
Q: Why don't you jump in the graves with the dead soldiers and cut their heads off and shit in their faces?
A: I may do that some day

Next documentary, coming soon : "Gordon Ramsay meets the Taleban" (in which Gordon blows his top when they refuse to eat his pork cider casserole).

Complete bollards

Picture taken by my niece Tasha at her school the other day.

Balloon monkey darts

Just what the internet was crying out for - a balloon-popping darts monkey game. Click on the monkey..

Snaps

Just two months after returning from Indochina, here are some holiday snaps. This is the age of instant digital photography after all. (Click on the picture to enlarge.)


Rice wine frenzy (click here to see original post)



Cu Chi Tunnel entrance (click here to see original post)



Hard at work



Nice hat Gareth



Residents of the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh



Khmer Cookery - the result (click here to see original post)



Khmer Rouge rules and regulations. Nice chaps.



Angkor Wat temple



Ta Prohm temple

LOL

Swede and Yorkshire Pudding

Has anyone noticed how alike Sven Goran Erikkson and Michael Vaughan look? No? Just me then.

Anyone know a good exorcist?

A short while ago Sky Sports suddenly, without warning, turned into BBC Radio Wales for a few minutes. And it was playing a Cher song.

I think my TV must be possessed by someone Welsh who likes rubbish American music and doesn't like cricket. I'm struggling think of anyone who might fit that description.

Either that or the cable company has been sending lizards down the line.

Let's all shout at nutters

John Sweeney screaming at Scientologists on Panorama last night was the funniest thing I've seen on TV for ages.


Here is a link if you want to watch it over and over again.

Drives me crazy

(Or perhaps that should be 'me drives crazy')

• I drove on the wrong side of the road, which was right.

• I tried to go the right way round a roundabout, which was wrong.

• I followed a car the wrong way down a road, which was very wrong.

• I then went the right way up the same road whilst facing the wrong way, which was fun.

• While all this was happening the gearstick, handbrake and passenger seat were on my right, which was just plain silly.

Over many years there has been endless debate about a single European currency. Why no mention of a more sensible suggestion - a single road traffic direction?

Don't Cry for me Argentina

Overheard Northerners in conversation at the Benalmadena Palace Disco Bar:

Younger bloke:
"Who's the best player you've ever seen, like?"

Older bloke:
"Georgie Best, like, without a doubt mate."

Younger bloke:
"I'm too young to remember him, like, it has to be Cantona for me. Although that Madonna was pretty good in the eighties."

Older bloke:
"Eh eh, mad for it, mad for it."

(Okay, I may be making up the last line, but the rest is genuine)

Lost weekend

On leaving the pub on Friday night there was the usual kerfuffle about where/whether to eat. Lynne wanted a curry; Matthew didn't; Mark wanted something cheap; Ali wanted another drink. I couldn't resist the aroma of the frying onions from the burger man on the street corner and I bought myself a burger. Ali was almost tempted by the smell too, but she ended up skipping off into the distance instead. I wandered into Holborn Station and jumped onto the first train I saw. After a little snooze I woke up at Turnpike Lane. So I got off and jumped on a bus to Swiss Cottage. As I was not far away, I decided to make a pilgrimage to the home of Cricket. I struck up a converation with a local homeless man about the state of English cricket. He was remarkably well-informed and had all the answers. I sauntered off towards Marylebone Station where, after calmly foiling some would-be muggers, I took a train to South Ruislip. On the walk home I bumped into some superheroes who invited me to a party. Despite my lack of fancy dress, I joined them for a couple of drinks and a few stunts on the garden shed roof. I eventually made it home as the sun was rising.

I assume that's what happened anyway, I seem to have lost a large chunk of memory.

E's are good

A couple of months ago I booked some plane tickets through lastminute.com to go from Siem Riep to Hanoi. They were e-tickets.

Upon arrival at the Vietnam Airlines check-in desk, we were told that they aren't able to support e-tickets.

They had our names on their computer; the computer also told them that we had paid for our tickets; and which seats we had been allocated; we had our passports to prove who we were; and we had a booking reference number. But they couldn't let us on the plane because we didn't have any physical tickets. So we had to buy new tickets.

Obviously I'm going to claim the money back, but who do I claim it from?
1) Lastminute.com, on the basis that they shouldn't have sold us e-tickets which weren't usable.
2) Vietnam Airlines, on the basis that they shouldn't have made us buy a new ticket given that they knew we had already bought them.
3) Travel insurance company, on the basis that the first two are doomed to failure.

Answers on a postcard please. Or in the comments box.

Am I old or am I not?

I can now officially cook Khmer food - I even have a certificate to prove it.

During the cookery class, the teacher asked me how old I was. So I told her, much to the amusement of the rest of the kitchen staff. I asked how old they thought I looked, and after a little conference they decided on "one hundred".

Later on, downstairs in the same restaurant, the waitress noticed the date of birth on my certificate, and on seeing the incredulous look on her face, I asked her how old she thought I was. She said "nineteen".