Lazy Sunday Afternoons

Lazy? [At this point it is worth commenting that there is a documentary feature on Liverpool on the telly. I've spent what little effort I could be bothered to expend on anything this weekend on taking the piss out of that city on another blog, where there was a general consensus.] I don't know a word that is stronger than lazy. Bone bleedin' idle. Today I didn't even bother to get dressed. Just put on my dressing gown. You lazy, stinky git, Krusty.

I've dipped in and out of yesterday's 'paper, not really too bothered, and had a series of 'afternoon' naps. Breakfast was two kippers, accompanied by camomile tea - yes, I would much rather have had proper tea, but as I've explained, I really can't. You have no idea of the tremor that I had before the caffeine withdrawal, it was like George Best. It's still pretty bad, but better than was. [There's a fucking car alarm outside that is going off for the third time in an hour and is pissing me off.] Anyway, kippers was accompanied by 'The Archers'. Is Alistair a twat? Is Schula a smug old hypocrite who's just had a nasty wake-up call? Is Emma Carter just the most appalling slapper, the village bike whose mother Susan "Oi can take the moral hoighgroand 'cause Oi've been to giaol fer theft and fer hoiding my attemp'ed murderer and aarsonist psoicherparth brother Cloive and Oi down' loike the vikker be-in photograrphed kissin' 'iz girlfriend, it's not dignifoid, 'specially what wiv 'er bein' an Asian an' orl thart, not uz Oi iz a racist, o' course, ooh ar, an' Oi know orl aboo' dignity wiv my slattern of a daughter troi-in' to do a runner wiv 'er kid despoit the court tellin' 'er 'ow it is an' orl thaar" Carter is perhaps the most ghastly character in any soap opera ever?

I realise that this absolutely incomprehensible to Krustians and Krustacea (it's one apiece at present) who are not from the UK or rabid enthusiasts of the World Service. If you are a fan of the WS, please, what on earth is the appeal of 'West Way'? Isn't it just shit?

Anyway, after all that excitement, it was time to settle down to the important business of watching events from the Circuit de Catalunya, with the added element of attempting to spot my sister amongst the busy bees in blue. She 'phoned me yesterday just to shout "Listen to this" down the 'phone so that I could hear the crowd going mental. Heh, heh, I bet it was even louder this arvo!

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Having taken a break from writing this last night I promptly fell asleep on the sofa, so have returned on Monday evening. My eyes are a little fucked, having spent a large part of the day looking at multi-coloured charts that are vaguely psychedelic but in no way interesting. Like an Ozric Tentacles gig, then? No, not that shit, but nearly. There was light relief when, late afternoon, summoned to the weekly sermon, an event I usually attempt to avoid by judicious use of the facilities available, I found myself seated with a view that allowed me to take in not one, not two, but six of my favourite bums in our office. Six of my top ten. Arse-o-rama. I was somewhat challenged by the giggles that I fought to stifle. However, in keeping with the theme of the latter part of day, I then had a major computer issue, so my day ended on a bum note.

Anyway, back here am I, delighted to see that there is traffic, having taken the (for me) risk of adding a counter - big puncture to the ego if traffic was really low. If you're visiting here and not commenting - yes, I know, everyone says this on their blog, but hell, I'm going to say it too - please, do feel welcome to piss up the post as you pass, and let us all know what you think. Indeed, it appears that it is now a message board anyway, which is great, it means I really do know how to host a party!

Oh, I forgot to include this; expensive American motors are In Heaven; I personally find this just so bizarre a way to flog a car, but then I've been a-Wreckin', and it ain't no luxury ride....but it's bloody good fun.

Shame they didn't use 'Slow Down You Grave-Robbin' Bastard'...

Apparently Mariah Carey is to compose a set of ringtones for some 'phone business or other. Yeah, you're sellin' it to me, folks.

Anyway, time to let it go for tonight, and I'm sure you're all delighted to see that Lusty Krusty is back, won't be long before there's one of those regular looney rants - such as 'What the fuck is an actor of the quality of Don Warrington doing making adverts for Kenco? And with the guy who plays that twat Tom Archer?' Love the symmetry, don't you...that's poetry for you. [Krusty, seeing as you have so little time for the characters in 'The Archers', why do you listen? Habit. Same reason I listen to 'Gardeners' Question Time' when I have no garden. Besides, that's what I pay £120 p.a for, and if the bastards try to do away with any of it I've got more reason to hound them, ha ha ha foam foam...] And let me just take that nugget of joy, Arse-o-rama, with me. Ooooooh.....