w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:
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"Stand by my accusations, I'll come clean - I don't need no vice
I know you want to keep me waitin', I think it's funny that you might
Love is hard to leave and it's hard to never have
Can you please crawl out of your window - I will give you all I have
Box up our records and a head full of ideas
And a handful of escape routes - they're going to burn you."

The Charlatans: "One to another"
From the album: "Melting Pot"

I'm a Londoner.

Well, sort of. Dad was born in Plaistow. I work in t'City.

Does that make me feel like a Londoner? Yes. Yes it does.

Labels: Verbiage

Today's lyric:
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"I bet your Mama was a tent-show queen
And all her boyfriends were sweet sixteen?
I'm no schoolboy but I know what I like -
You should'a heard 'em just around midnight."

Rolling Stones: "Brown Sugar"
From the album: "Sticky Fingers"

A BT-employed friend of ours was enjoying his conjugals of a Sunday morning, when the bedside phone (one of hundreds in the house - it was like being in a clock shop at midday) rang. And rang. And rang.

Eventually, he could stand it no longer.

"Hello son, you took a long time answering?"

"I was down the garden, Dad" he panted in reply.

"You sound out of breath. Did you have to run back in?"

"Look, Dad, I'm in the middle of something* right now. Can it wait?"

"Sure. I just wanted to tell you about..."

Click.

* He's divorced now. There was reference to her being called a 'something' in the grounds...

Not that Mrs.D's into boxing, but she's off to her weekly weigh-in tonight. At the last count, she was -30lbs/60 days. Half a pound of butter every day on average for two months.

Strangely, the weight seems to be being shed from all round, not just in the tummy region. She reckons she's lost 7" in the ladybumps area? Imagine the equivalent, lads, in the trouser-snake department? Blimey, I'd be almost minusly-endowed!

As a divertissement (et je ne sais pourquoi) I've been creating some new French words.

(Note to self: Must get out more!)

So far I've come up with 'Departyr' meaning to abandon a rave, and 'Devanner' meaning to leave a convoy of mobile homes.

Aidez-moi!

Oh. And HAPPY ST GEORGE'S DAY!

Labels: Anecdotes, Diet, Verbiage

Today's lyric:
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"I'd like to see a passionate film between the two ugliest people in the world
When I say ugly, I don't mean rough looking, I mean hideous."

The Stranglers: "Ugly"
From the album: "Rattus Norvegicus"

Musing the other day about inescapable disasters, but where you have some warning i.e. not a 'being run over by a bus-type' incident, but Planet Earth being several days away from an aerial assault by huge meteors, or a submarine earthquake in the center of one of the larger oceans producing a tsunami a couple of days later, or an intractable deadline for a nuclear assault.

It would only be the wealthiest who might possibly escape the onslaught?

After all, it would take some incredibly expensive logistics to make sure you were on top of a mountain when the wave washed over, or deep in a provisioned cave as the nuclear blast roiled overhead, or skybound long enough for the dust to settle?

So, the re-procreation of the human specie would be in the hands of, say, Macca, or possibly Lloyd-Webber, or some faceless sheik?

Just imagine the progeny?

If any of their descendents ever made interplanetary flight a way off our dying planet, just what would the inhabitants of their target world make of them?

A viable plot for a B-Movie there, I reckon...

* shudders *

Labels: Verbiage

Today's lyric:
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"It's so easy I don't believe a word
Love junkies gone over to the edge
Been thinking if I could see you now
I'd make you say this exists or not at all
Would it be too much to ask if there's some one over there?
Who gets every joke and always in the same place
Only thing I can't face."

Longpigs: "Jesus Christ"
From the album: "Longpigs"

"Frustrage": The tipping point between being mildly exasperated about not being able to change or do something e.g. yank someone's child out of the shopping trolley, after its parents have declined to act on your information that it's actually very unhygienic to stand in it wearing street shoes (and no, I don't want you to remove the shoes, thankyou - I'd rather not have my fruit and veg in the closest of proximities to where its bare feet once stood) and (and here you may wish to pause for mental breath) the sheer, violence-inducing, 'red mist', fist-clenching fury caused by your inability to be involved in Bliar's replacement, thereby rendering this country in the (probable) despotic rule of an unelected caledonian tw@t who, given the massive amounts of money (and with his consent) spent over there, should be in living fear of a visit from the incredibly rapidly and recently-stabilised Iraqi security forces to remove said dictator from these shores and posted back over the wall to rejoin his countrymen in their lovely new parliament building.

(I do believe the above is a legal sentence?)

Enjoy your weekends, y'all.

Labels: Rants, Verbiage