Ye'll've Had Yer Tea, Then

Yes, it's Burns Night, I've never been to a Burns Night bash, but I do like haggis, so I've got one simmering away upon the wee stove.

Love life continues unabated, I'm sort of struggling to believe it really, but don't look a gift horse and all that - unless you live on the mediterranean coast of Turkey, in which case you should be examining that there horse with extreme care. Upstairs baby is jumping about and falling over, great, constant crashing and immediate screaming, just what a man needs after a hard day bullshitting at the office.

I am full of admiration for our noble and esteemed Government at the moment. I almost feel sorry for poor Johnny Reid, he's inherited an absolute basket case in the prison system. Still, you pay peanuts, you gets monkeys, guys. But having told judges they can only lock up the ultraviolent, he can't lock up paedophiles. Ooops. Coming from a Home Secretary who was already of the 'hard and mean' persuasion, and a Government that has been busy in the last nine and a half years inventing some three thousand new criminal offences and advocating and imposing stiffer sentences, it's a bit of a bollock.

And then, look, you know, I mean, you know, look, you know,I mean, look, there's poor Tony. Dubya is ignoring everybody and going hell for leather - he's not got a lot to lose but other peoples lives and money - and Tony really doesn't want to discuss that in Parliament, which could be a bit uncomfortable, when he can share a bottle of chardonnay with some chaps and discuss what he's going to be doing this time next year. And there's also the problem with the church. Tony has some very close friends and associates, including his wife, who are Roman Catholics and who take their religion very seriously. [Mrs. Blair's religion is probably pretty interesting, as when she isn't being devout about Mass, she's supposedly into crystals and new-ageism. I'm struggling to equate the two...] He also has some very close friends (NB platonic!) whom the local beat bobby might once have described as 'a prac-tissing 'oe-moe-sex-you-ul'.

One almost might say he's caught between a rock and a hard place.

So, yes, I am aware that the so-called reality television - er, what the fuck is real about it, other than collected semi-literate Britons grunting at each other and expressing racist opinions - has been causing some hoo-hah in the 'papers. I was tickled to note the Sun bewailing the fact that we remain a nation of prejudiced and unsavoury morons. Send us orl bak oam, I say.

Anyway, I'm off for a wee dram and some steamed offal and porridge with extra suet, be good! xxK

Happy Bunny?

So, I guess I ought to try and put some effort in here, drag myself away from using the internet for other purposes such as downloading ridiculous amounts of free music - it's there if you know where to look and you know what you want - and looking at pictures of naked ladies. Krusty is in pretty good shape at the moment, the, ahem, dare I say, 'relationship' thing still quite comfortable and warm and a good experience, and work not over-arching and actually quite fun. I have an underling, who has much to offer professionally and is also a fan of fast cars and watching them race - when we interviewed her she expressed a distaste for the Red Baron and a preference that he did not end his career in celebratory mode, and we could only acknowledge that that was the right answer.
Big congratulations to Martin 'Wolfie' Adams on at last attaining the BDO World Championship - Wolfie has a place in my affections as he was the first person in probably twenty years that I'd asked for an autograph, and he was very warm and generous in giving it, and my signed photo has a place on my mantelpiece. What a match it was, lord knows how his nerves - and his missus's nerves - stood up in the end, especially after his semi-final against Mervyn King. So well done Wolfie.



















Other things to comment on? I don't watch 'Celeb Big Brother', so I don't know what all the fuss is about, although from what I've seen of the pictures of the actress, I don't know whether Bollywood, but I would.

I took Tabatha to meet one of my sisters last weekend, and the feedback from the Coven is that she is most acceptable. Nice that they approve; it means that the collective campaign is less likely, the needles in the dolls and the hissing like cats which has greeted previous incumbents of the 'Krusty's Girlfriend' position, although it might be said that they only had my interests at heart, and yes I was making a poor choice but they didn't have to be quite so vicious. Still, I love my family, so I sort of trust 'em.

What's new out there, folks, I'm getting a bit insular?

I did listen yesterday, whilst queuing on the M25, to Graham Fellows on Radio 4, with his 'With Great Pleasure...', amongst which selected readings was a passage from what he described as 'Enid Blyton's psychedelic classic', 'The Magic Faraway Tree'. You know, I loved that book when I was a kid, it really is magic, and I so enjoyed hearing it being read.

Right, I'm going to fuck off and think of something more interesting to say, and read what other people have to say. Tata.

Have You Paid Your Fare? Exact Change Only!

Happy New Year, folks, and all that. I survived the Midnight Celebrations, barely, my significant mistake being to fall asleep after a large helping of Chinese takeaway - this is, I have learned, not the way to impress a new girlfriend - but we're still chums, and Krusty looks to be doing ok at the mo.

Back to work yesterday, the New Regime continues with its project of reconstruction, the builders have a single drill which squeals all day, it's a little like being in the movie 'Marathon Man', without the charm of poor dear Larry the Nazi. Now, as I was having my luncheon and chatting with some of my associates, the subject of the film 'Last King of Scotland' came up. One of my associates grew up in Africa, and I asked him if he would be going to see the film. We discussed the late and unlamented Idi Amin, and were getting up to return to our toils when one of our party commented that Idi Amin had once worked on the London Underground.

This is, I believe, untrue. However, he did work on the buses.


Whilst researching this stunning find, I also discovered that in 1971 the biggest grossing film in the UK was 'On The Buses', outselling 'Diamonds Are Forever'; and you thought Bond was sexy...not as fanciable as Stan and Jack, eh luv, fancy a bit on the top deck then?

My good friend Nutgroist insists on sending me video footage of large women taking their clothes off, on the streets of Toronto. So that's what a beaver is.

Right, off to do something different, but good to have got something posted, trying to get the habit back, luv yers, K