What did you do with your BNP leaflet? Maybe you made it into a paper aeroplane to entertain the kids.
Emergency toilet paper perhaps? Saves using the carboard tube. Perhaps you turned it into a birthday card for someone you really fucking despise.
I used mine to light the oven......................
p.s. Please note that instructions on what to do when a Labour or Conservative leaflet falls through your door will follow in due course.
A bluebell wood by the motorway. The council must be planting waves of them along the M8.
The next dignity free mouth breather that asks me if I'm the 'Real Radio Renegade' is gonna get a fucking kick up the arse, so help me God!
What is that about? Have people nothing better to do than approach innocent pedestrians making their weary way home from work with their headphones on, in the vaguest of hopes that they might be an employee from some tin-pot local radio station, just waiting to make them rich?
No, of course they haven't. There must have been something going down in the area, as I was accosted twice in the space of a minute. Various others gesticulated at me from their cars or stared at me like I was from another planet. I mean, what's a 'Real Radio Renegade' supposed to look like anyway?
Probably not half as gormless as those who fall for this naff gimmick. Wankers! They'd set fire to their houses and eat their own shit if someone offered them a fiver and a chance to be on telly.
Is it the warm weather that brings them out? Ah, so many questions and so few answers..............
On another, utterly unrelated topic......
The little boy next door shouts. A lot. In fact, he's louder than you'd think possible for a four year old. It's not just when he's excited or agitated though, it seems to be a permanant setting. My bet is that everyone in the family communicates in this way, so he needs to turn up the volume to be heard, but he can't turn it off when he's out of that environment. What he's like at school, I'd hate to speculate..............
If nothing else, his throat lining will be in shreds by the time he's ten.
The tulip at my back door. It finally disintegrated during the week there, but I took this one last weekend, with all raindrops and stuff on it. The sunflowers are coming through, against the odds, and the nasturtiums are thriving. Gives you something to look at in the mornings as you make your coffee and contemplate throwing a sickie.
Of course I haven't!!
It was Guatemala.............
Anyway, talking of copping yer whack, it looks like I'm up for possible redundancy at the end of the month. It's hard to say how I feel about all of this. On one hand, I need to work to pay my way, but on the other, if they got shot of me, I doubt I'd give much of a fuck. Jobs are hard to find this weather, but I think if I lowered my sights just a notch, I'd find something.
I don't think I'm for the chop though. Don't ask why, but going on the selection criteria, I think there are a couple in the queue before me. Sadly, one of my colleagues has taken to chewing the furniture and getting in a bit of a tizzy. She's easily the most competent person in the section, but she's driving herself mad, to the point where she's convinced HR have it in for her and will take this opportunity to ditch her. She's an awkward sod for sure, but if they ditch her I might as well get out a too. It's a ship of fools as it is, so if they do make redundant the only person in the department who knows their arse from their elbow, I doubt I'll be able to take any of it remotely seriously.
So, what's everyone else been up to?
Cocktails has been mulling over the question of one's earliest memory and the effect in has on who or what you become in later life. As stated in the comments section of her original post, my earliest memory was probably on a beach on the Isle of Man, playing with an orange & black football. Somehow it ended up in the sea and floated off into the wide blue yonder. The effect it had upon me at the time was not documented, but I can say with some certainty that I'd rather have had the football to play with than not. I have wondered on the odd occassion, just where a cheap plastic football kicked into the Irish Sea by a bent-footed three year old would end up. Did it deflate and sink? Did it wash up on a faraway shore? Did it circumnavigate the globe and return to it's point of origin?
I don't remember if my parents bought me another one.
Why would I? I was only three........
Other good stuff I've read and seen recently, but forgot about.
Ed MillibandRobert Louis StevensonThe Cockenspiel (apologies in advance)
Finally, a snippet from a current YouTube favourite that seemed to get consigned to the backwater of BBC3 some years ago, sandwiched between their interminable "Two Pints of Lager & A Packet of Crisps" marathons.
Snuff Box - Boyfriend sketches (1-5)