I have a confession to make. For years I genuinely thought I might be related to Luke Skywalker because in the 1970s we both had the same haircut. However, I also have another, perhaps less shocking confession to make – I have become addicted to a television show. Not just any old show, either, but a piece of indisputable and unspeakable trash. Alert both your eyes and your nostrils as you will surely need to look down your nose in my general direction very shortly. I, however, could not possibly care less, even if there was a prize for doing so. For you can keep your BBC period dramas, esoteric quiz shows and even your reality based programs in which people compete for some dubious title by being the least objectionable person, I have found something far, far better.
Continue reading “There’s No People Like Swamp People”
Month: August 2011
Gradually Coming to my Census
Years ago, we were filling in forms. It may have been for health insurance or to become a member of the local video shop – I really can’t remember. In actual fact the use of the plural ‘we’ may be stretching it. To be more precise, Kate was filling forms which contained a range of questions. I guess that, after a time, a person can know you almost better than you know yourself and it’s just as easy to let them answer. One question, however, was blank. It was left undisturbed on the basis that I, and only I, could give an honest and accurate answer. That question was, to put it in ‘Roxanne’ terms, have I ever put on the red light?
Of Bovines and Beverages
There’s an old joke. A horse walks into a bar and, straight away, all conversation ceases. The creature carefully puts one hoof in front of the other on his way to the bar, the sound of his horseshoes the only thing to break the silence. Finally, he sidles up and sits himself down on a stool as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. The bartender then leans over to the horse and says: why the long face?
An Old-Fashioned Fob Story
I may as well have ordered a unicorn sandwich; such was the gaping disbelief that greeted my enquiry. For once, I can honestly say that my intentions were good. However, much like anything else that’s good, my intentions come with an expiration date and, like a litre of full cream milk left in the sun, that date was now fast approaching. What I had thought was a simple inquiry regarding a wireless internet device was greeted with the kind of incredulity you’d expect from someone who has only now learned that the world is round rather than flat.