Month: October 2001

More competition wrong answers:

• Aswad
• Monaco
• The Pogues

A clue will be posted here tomorrow morning.

Finally, the mainstream media have caught up with a story that has been running around the web for days. Osama Bert Laden.

It had to happen, I guess.

Moon soil samples reveal history of lunar formation. Cool stuff.

Beer tonight with Arron, Hilje (“I like you because you are safe” – um…thanks, I think), Chas, Kearn, DA, Jeff (“I was, like, born in Hull”), Tim, Cat and Cat’s mate Sylvia. Good friends.

She’s describing me!! (via his2p)

Brighton and Hove Albion FC supporters and fans will have been totally dismayed that the team’s manager has left. But that’ll be nothing compared to the dismay that will abound if the rumour that ex-Leicester boss Peter Taylor is on his way to the Withdean. gah!
(No, I’m not interested in football. No, really, I’m not.)

What a strange night last night was.
I ambled down to the Nags at around 9.30, as usual, only to be berated by Paul F for being late. I’d arranged to meet him there “at the usual time”. Well, I’ve been ambling into the pub around 9.30 for the last five or six months, in an attempt to save money by reducing the time I spend in there, so it wasn’t really unusual. Oh well. He seemed pacified when I bought him a pint.
The usual crowd were in the Nags, and I had a chat with Paul F, Ted, Phil, Tim and Clare, and did cast admiring glances at Emma, the attractive new barperson. Paul decided to head home, so I chose to amble along to W2 to see if Arron or anyone else was out.
W2 has been “losing it” in recent weeks, but I must say that I sense that it is beginning to improve now that recently-imported Dutch barperson Hilje (pronounced Hill-yer) is settling into her stride.
Nobody (apart from Steve – sans Helen) that I really knew was in W2, so I fetched myself a stool and the newspaper from the rack, and decided to kick back, catch up on global events, enjoy a quiet pint and get in a spot of people watching. I had a brief chat with Dan (who is working his last shift on Saturday) and Steve, and was settling into a quiet period of reverie, when I spotted a couple of blokes that I know (names withheld until next of kin informed) chatting with a couple of girls, one blonde and one raven haired. I waved greetings in the general direction of the blokes, and smiled at the girls. I looked back a few minutes later to see how they were getting on (usual bluster, it seemed to me).
Then next thing I knew, the blonde, who turned out to be called Sue, was stood next to me, apologising profusely – I’m not really sure what for. Sue, who at first claimed to be from Birmingham, but is in fact from Tamworth, is a nurse and not unattractive by any means. Well, to cut a long story short, we all ended up going back to the house of one of the blokes, drinking his beer. Sue was pissed as a fart, so much so that she actually gave me a snog – although she didn’t seem particular about who she snogged, to be honest. Then we all moved from there to the home of the other girl, Fleur. By this point I had just about had enough, and could see which way the evening was headed, and that, most likely, it wasn’t going to involve me, so I headed home and got in just before 1am.
The question is – why do I always get into situations like this?

To quote a Garfield comic strip from around 1983, I hab a code.
This cold started out as an irritating, but not especially debilitating, sore throat – the sort of thing that you know will go away in a couple of days. And yet, this morning, I woke up to find myself to be unbelievably snot-ridden, experiencing great difficulty in breathing, and talking in a most amusing manner. Well, amusing for everyone other than me, of course.

My Life As A Plumbee by Rodney Breen.