Monday, November 14, 2005

Mother of Pearl

I've got 42 comments in my last post and I'm not even going to begin to commence to look. Even the lure of the possibility of endless links to free pictures of young ladies in various states of undress will not motivate me to do so.

So I was at an awards do tonight and one of the members of staff comes up to me.

"Hey-a Anthony," he said, "Why-a you-a no write-a on da blog-a no more?"

Not really. He's not Italian. Or a Disney animation. But considering pretty much every fortnight for the past two months I've found myself thinking, "gosh," (note to American readers: that means "gee") "I really ought to do some writing on the old website", I figured I may as well apply grubby finger to sticky keyboard and churn something out.

That and the fact that the Amateur Gourmet has a book deal and there is no motivation in this world as powerful as burning, psychotic, staring-eyed jealousy.

So... what's in the news today.

Well as some of you will no doubt be aware, the Red Chinese have been in town and I've had to put up the sight of their grotty flags dangling off every public building between Pimlico and the Strand. Plus, apparently in order to impress Mr Poo, or whatever his name is, various artistic landmarks were bathed in red light as a form of tribute over the weekend.

Now, I'm all for harmonious relations with non-democratic, student-killing, monkeybrain-eating police state mentalists (they make such damnably good t-shirts), but it seems to me that this was gilding the lily somewhat. Overegging the pudding, if you will. It's almost as bad as when Jiang Zemin went to France and the French acted like the bloody French.

In other news, Paul McCartney has broadcast a live performance to the international space station. A splendid performance that almost succeeded in distracting my attention from the highly suspect rich chestnut brown colour his hair has taken on over the past couple of years.


Blogger Dan said...

Personally, I've been amazed to see just how interested the purveyors of teenage smut and penis extensions have been in the Diaries of Lord Alanbrooke. I can't imagine he would have been terribly into either.

10:08 AM  

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