Month: August 2004

lost

No description of my bank holiday weekend is more accurate than Alison Jier’s vocals on I Just Wanna Dance from Jerry Springer The Opera (Sharp Boys or Wayne G mix, you decide): I don’t give a f**k no more If

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bold

Dr B. had been thinking of coming out to his parents for quite a while. There seemed to be no reason to fear, and yet the closest he could get to telling them he is gay was to prepare a

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lard

Let’s say one might have over-indulged and fell into a jar of jelly beans (not the sugar-free ones, sadly still not available in the UK) the previous night. Let’s say one then faces this on their way to the underground:

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cats

Dogs think they are human. Cats think they are God. As true as this other one.

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hand

Tuesday: refuse collection day in my street. Atrocious back-scratcher ending with a plastic hand. Why would anyone dream of throwing it away? Spooky.

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tube

Subway systems of the world, presented on the same scale. (If you look carefully, you will notice a tiny dot at the bottom right-hand side: that’ll be Milan – the largest small town in Europe).

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wait

Went to my local gym at opening time yesterday. Did not know weights were delivered fresh daily.

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wild

Listening to Phixx‘s cover of Duran Duran‘s Wild Boys. No, scrap that. Listening to Phixx pretending to be a Duran Duran tribute band (why cover a song if you leave everything intact and you even try and sound like Simon

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rule

I shall exceptionally break my self-inflicted ban from blogging from work, as today’s BBC caption competition strikes a chord with the object of my derision (the dwarf on the left, although one is spoilt for choice in this picture): Click

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tips

If you are queuing to enter a club and you notice Rupert Everett is next to you, you are probably in the wrong queue. Smile and act dumb, say aloud: ‘Oh, I so wish they sorted out this queues business

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slap

The moment I wake up, Before I put on my make up…

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vows

I wish I had not recycled my copy of yesterday’s Metro in the appropriate “newspapers only” bin outside Embankment station. I wish I could show you pictures of the bride (a dishevelled non-specific-breed mongrel with a veil and a huge

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city

Readers with professional knowledge in the interpretation of dreams, please avert your gaze now. I do not want to know, really. I dreamt that I was in an episode of Sex and the City. It was of course extremely vivid

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name

What’s in a name? Before morphing into Jenny-From-the-Block, she was known as J-Lo. Reasonably cool. Joey Rodrigues (noone you should know, the author of a good basic pecs exercises page) is J-Rod. Rather neat. I tried to do the same

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rams

I’ve got 2x IBM ThinkPad 256MB PC100 SDRAM SoDIMM Laptop Memory on its way from Reading via eBay to boost my old battered laptop’s performance. It will be like applying a turbo engine on a Cinquecento.

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snap

This past weekend in Brighton Chig taught me a trick: whenever you want to take a picture of someone without them realising, you simply pretend to photograph a mate standing next to them. This past weekend in Brighton I took

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text

In the news today: BT service lets mobiles send texts to some fixed phone numbers. On my land line answering machine a few days ago: a poor synthesized voice struggling to pronounce “Può regolare i miei attacchi?”* and making it

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dips

Leaving tonight for a weekend in London-by-the-Sea Brighton. Yes, predictable as it is (Brighton Pride tomorrow) – it seems the whole of Soho is going to be there too. We are treating ourselves to two nights at the Hilton. Special

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time

Eighteen months on, romance is not dead yet:

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