Tuesday, 16 December 2008

Tuesday 16/12/08

So sorry about yesterday’s disappearance of the Blog. I was fiddling around trying to add new gadgets and the bloody thing did a runner on me. At least I had all the text backed up, so all is not lost.

Nigella was doing her bit for Xmas on TV last night. It’s rather strange, but whenever she’s having a dinner party, her hubby, Charles Saatchi, is conspicuous by his absence. Must be too busy buying a piece of crap that he’ll sell on to an unsuspecting world as art.

An Iraqi journalist, Muntadar al-Zaidi, threw his shoes at President Bush during a press conference in Baghdad. In Islamic countries it’s considered the worst possible insult to hit someone with your shoe – or to even show them the sole of your shoe. It’s the Moslem equivalent of black-balling someone from the local golf club or serving sherry above 20 degrees centigrade. However, that begs the question as to how you leave the place after having chucked your flip-flops away and they’ve been commandeered as evidence by plod. You must surely bring along a spare pair, or else you’d look a right plonker toddling off home in your bare feet. If spares are brought, is there a protocol concerning which pair actually get lobbed – the spares or the ones on your feet? Perhaps security people should start doing searches for spare pairs of sandals as well as explosive devices.

Talking of soles, a Devon man has had his eBay advert for his soul withdrawn. The exotically and improbably named Dante Knoxx offered his soul at a starting bid of £25,000.50 or a buy it now price of £700,000. EBay withdrew the item due to it not being physical. I suppose that raises the question of the definition of physical. Is music physical? Are videos physical? The only physical things you’re buying in the previous examples are pieces of plastic, which are not what is actually being sold. I wonder if I could sell higher dimensions than the three of space and one of time. Anyone want to buy the 5th dimension?

Am I alone in pronouncing pickle in the Lancastrian manner – i.e. ‘pittle’? Hay is highly amused by it. Pittled eggs, pittled walnuts, I got into a right pittle, etc. I must say in my defence that I only revert to Lancashire dialect in moments of distraction, which are becoming alarmingly frequent.

Anyone understand charcoal? How the hell can you burn wood (admittedly in the absence of oxygen) and end up with something that’s still a fuel? I’ve never quite understood pyrolysis. Anyway, it seems that wood burners are all the rage at present and everyone is busy installing some version of a pot-bellied stove. Even large estates are installing wood-chip burners as main heating system boilers, the reason being that the wood is sustainable. That may well be the case, but wood emits more carbon than coal into the atmosphere and if everyone used wood, then we’d be back to the killer smogs of the last century.

I’m having problems with my underwear of late. As males get older they succumb to a condition which in our household is termed by its medical name ‘testiculus danglus’, which is a consequence of gravity. It’s a condition which plays havoc with the gusset of boxer shorts, and mine have become as thin as rice paper. I need to invest in a make of foundation garments for the older gentleman that are designed to counter what the rag trade call ‘gussetus abdadicus’. Any suggestions?

There’s a story in the news about Woolies refusing to sell Star Wars lightsabres to kids due to fears they look like guns. Never have I seen a lightsabre that looks even remotely like a gun, and my kids have had quite a few lightsabres. Regardless of whether they look like replica guns or not, I wouldn’t have thought that Woolies could afford to be too picky about what they sell to whom at this precise moment.

No comments:

Post a Comment