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Err? The end of bingo as we know it?

Granny Ties Buccaneers In Knots

Yes, it's the KILLER pirates that are the worst.

Anyway, they were quite civil during their questioning, and did quite well considering that they hadn't done a talk show before. They blamed themselves for the escape, and admitted that they were spending too much time being black-hearted vagabonds and not enough time keeping an eye on the elderly lady held captive. A schoolboy error.

Apparently the Pirate's ombudsman is holding an enquiry.

"Bastards! Yer All BASTARDSSS!"

On my way to a meeting this morning, I passed a comedy drunk (and as this was 11.30 am, he was clearly a pro) who, on tackling a junction, did the "steady now" trip of the inebriate whilst waving his arms behind him to maintain his balance.

What I liked was what he did next.

As he had stepped out in front of a van, he decided that this close call was the driver's fault, and so he glared into the front and began using his flailing arms to gesticulate at his newly discovered enemy.

The expression on his face as he realised that there was NO DRIVER and that the van was PARKED was a treat.

Piscine Promenading

I was ambling back to work via the canal towpath this lunchtime, when I was passed by a chap carrying a fishing rod, fully deployed, but dragging the line beside him as he walked along the waterway.

I have never seen this form of angling before, and as I assumed that it would be an unsuccessful approach to catching anything, I speculated as to the chap's purpose.

Was he, I contemplated, taking his pet fish for a walk?

I looked as he passed me, but the end of the line appeared bereft of any such companion.

Nice idea though.

(To be perfectly honest with you; I think he was probably a bit mad, but you're not allowed to say things like that these days are you?)

Home

There was a time when my home town had notoriety for its motorcycle gangs, and this place was a raucous monkey hut: How times have changed!

On the way down there the train was nearing my station when I donned my coat, my backpack, my toolkit in one hand and my plastering accoutrements in the other (this purpose of my visit was a kitchen replacement errand), and I waited patiently in the aisle as the guy behind me gathered his things.

He didn't look like the kind of person who lived locally, but then; do I? Anyway, I waited patiently, as I say, as he may as well get to the door before me. My attitude changed when he began to fold his jumper in the style of a boutique assistant, and actually started PICKING AT BITS OF LINT!

I gave him the big "excuse me!" and he peremptorily sat back down. He wasn't even getting off!

A good job too, 'cause he may of found himself on the end of a 'lint-picking' under the bypass with some choice grouting utensils, I can tell you!

Galileo Exhumed And Burnt

Well, if the current Pope has his way, I'm sure that's overdue.

Unable to come to terms with the enlightenment and its bastard child modernism, Pope Ratso has remarked that the AIDS epidemic in Africa:

"cannot be overcome through the distribution of condoms, which can even increase the problem"

Yes, he actually said that.

No evidence to back up his claims, because he knows that the world is flat and that empiricism is mere necromancy, and he's the one in the big hat so let's all stand by and let the poor die.

Thankyou Rome.

A Fit Of The Vapours

Old Bill in West End Smash!

Apparently, the fun starts when Detective Inspector Wilberforce Bigot of Scotland Yard inadvertantly raids the vicarage of Reverend Simon Hardpiece, under the misapprehension that the preacher is Colombian drug-lord Ramon Chorizo.

Meanwhile upstairs, it transpires that the vicar's wife Ursula is having an affair with her tennis instructor Butch Stringfellow who on hearing the raid below has hidden naked in her wardrobe.

Unbeknownst to all, the vicar's daughter, Scarlet has hidden her stash of cocaine in the very same wardrobe.

The action gets going as, faced with the barking of the sniffer dogs, Butch emerges from the wardrobe dragged up as Bunty Cash, Ursula's long lost sister from Australia.

"Sir Ian Blair is fantastic as Det. Insp Bigot" the Metro

"Laugh? I nearly shat!" Sunday Sport

"£3 for a small bottle of beer?" Man with complimentary tickets.

The Good Old Days

As a historian, one is trained not to pass judgement on the mores of the past, but on visiting the London Transport Museum and witnessing the advertising attached to a ninety twenties' tram, one wonders what our grandparents were up to!

Anybody would think that it was modern-day Thailand!

Yes, London Transport's initiative of introducing piped music onto stations was always a question of taste, and who knew it would be a Kate Bush retrospective which pushed the envelope too far?

As LT press officer Peter Chutney explained:

"It was Wuthering Heights that did it; it was bedlam down there; it was like Edvard Munch meets Bruegel! Then some blind blokes' guide dog went mental and we had to evacuate the station!"

"Unfortunately, the guide dog had already evacuated itself so the procedure proved to be tragically comedic due to the slippage factor"

LT are to review its playlist, and is to recommend a steady diet of Victor Silvester for the time being.

That Equine Sinking Feeling

Yes, the people of the New Forest have been concerned about the safety of a pony which appears to have sunk into the mud.

The relevant authorities have been receiving calls requesting a rescue for what, on closer inspection, transpires to be an animal with very short legs.

Considering the past history of this horse, shouldn't someone paint "I'm not Sinking!" on the side of the stumpy steed, or even a plimsoll line!

Or cover every possibility and issue the little fellow with a snorkel, just in case!

Young People These Days!

The worst thing about being a failed songwriter is the constant what could have been.

This is compounded in my case by the fact that the only stuff anyone heard was the throw away tunes that I knocked out for a mate one summer in 1981. He went on to record them on an album that sold moderately in Belgium.

When I moved to London, I met a complete stranger who sang one of these pieces in its entirety to me in Soho, such was his excitement at meeting its composer.

On another occasion, I turned up in the print room of a City firm as a temp for a one-off night shift. In the early hours, the DJ (now a TV regular) played one of these tracks, much to my astonishment. I turned to my new (wary) colleague and, pointing to the radio, proclaimed "I wrote this!" Not surprisingly, he looked at me as though I had declared myself to be The King Of Brazil!

And here we are in 2009 and I discover that a bunch of kids in West Sonoma County, California, who weren't born when I was performing, are belting out some sort of version of a song that I completed within half an hour twenty eight years ago.

No, honestly.

Hayward: The Russian Linesman

And it is to the Southbank for the Mark Wallinger that we find ourselves.

About twenty years ago, I heard Brian Eno comment that the future of art was going to be about curators.

Thus it is interesting that Wallinger has provided a collection of other artist's work to make his point, and make it he does.

V. Good, worth the entrance fee.

Credit Crunch Cuisine

Yes, we can offer the Mid-Week Mule Deal

When the chewing gets tough, the tough get chewing!

The West Country in the News

The No Parking Tree

Yes, as if the snow is not enough; it's a tree in Devon named Sorbus Admonitor which is named after the sign attached to it!

There is no indication if it's related to the scary Singing Ringing Tree that traumatised our childhoods.

I Am The Doctor

Today, at work, I was attempting to change the details on a corporate account at a nationally known bookseller.

The chap at the other end was helpful, but a little slow.

Me: "Can you arrange that for me?"

Him: "Yes, but at first, you'll need to fax me permission to do so!"

Me: "Er, can I just EMAIL the details?"

Him: "No, it has to be a fax!"

Me: "OK, maybe I'll just find a time-machine and go back ten years and see if I can find some of that technology to use!"

Him: "Can you do that?"

Me: "Er, no, actually, I was making it up.

Him: "Oh!"

It's OK, he spoke to his supervisor who agreed to let me email. No doubt they're travelling forward in time as we speak to enjoy the exciting new electric internet they've yet to embrace.

1999

Football Special

I'd like to see Ronaldo get the ball to the far post from this corner.

Meanwhile, at the foot of the league, Bournemouth overcome the 17 points deduction to escape the relegation zone:

Come on you Cherries!