That image is the 'm' icon for the Minute Cryptic app. Second Born plays this, and so I had to too (to demonstrate that I'm still smarter than he is). My girlfriend also wanted to play it, so went to the store... and asks me, "Which icon is it? Is it the one that's two penises?"
Paging Dr Rorschach.
"Wow - he's really aged." (My girlfriend looking at Andre Agassi on an advertising poster.)
"Yeah, well, he's been with a German woman for 25 years." (Me, chancing she won't kill me; not here in Lidl.)
"Chk. I bet Steffi Graf still looks good." (My girlfriend, being correct, yet proving my point.)
Schfff... You might think you'd love it, but - trust me - be careful what you wish for: in reality, always being right is *incredibly* tiring.
You scamp, you.
Went down to the Thames to watch the Boat Race. Which was won this year - *yet again* - by a boat.
Evel Knievel, annoyed.
In the attic today I fell over an old, school exercise book from when I was 14 or 15. Seems I broke off in the midst of answering a maths question... to doodle (entirely for myself) an Evel Knievel joke that must have just occurred to me.
Yet another thing to file under: 'How little I have grown.'
Amid the global-level shite, let no one overlook how fully human-level shite it is that Jenni Murray has died. Professionally splendid, obviously, but wonderful too as someone with whom to pop outside for a quick fag.
And may I recommend her 'A History of the World in 21 Women', which made me cry.
Stopped at Green Park. The driver says over the Tannoy: "We've had a report of a passenger foaming at the mouth. Please look around and, if you see someone foaming at the mouth, notify a member of staff." Everyone in the compartment looks at everyone else. Looks *repeatedly*. Like it's The Traitors.
Pff - I'm not scared of her, unless she reads this.
Long queue for the ladies toilets at the Nat Hist Museum. Terrible. It's the same everywhere. Women get to socialise, chat, and make new friends, while men just swiftly pop in, pee, and leave; all alone. Males yet again being systemically isolated by woke culture. Thanks a lot, Mary Wollstonecraft.
Retrieved this from an attic. Why did I ever put it away? (I think I also had the Wolfman, Mr Hyde, Frankenstein('s monster), the kyphosis-sufferer of Notre Dame, the Mummy, and the Phantom of the Op., but those appear to have been largely lost to time, house moves, and stupidity.)
It still glows.
Good luck recouping his £160 when theweekly.com is now available. (It used to be a local newspaper in Foreskin, Nebraska or something. Delightfully local, I recall.) (Also, obv., Jonathan insisted that The Weekly should be co.uk right from the off: .com be damned as unBritish.)
If anyone thinks I can't easily access my emails from early 2001 they are falling *heavily* to the logical fallacy The Argument from Incredulity.
I wrote about What Happened Next here: tinyurl.com/MailOnSun
(You might like to read it to nostalgically view words like FTP, Internet Cafe, NTL, etc.)
'Confessions of a Killer' is on BBC 2 tonight. Definitely my least favourite of the Robin Askwith series.
Every time I pass this restaurant a voice in my head adds 'Tommy'.
At the magicians' conference I always go to in January. And (Yaaugh!) I randomly discover while chatting that one of the magicians I talk to every year wrote - to reiterate , Yaaugh! - the best-selling ZX Spectrum game 'Booty' (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Booty_(....
So: 'Yaaugh!'
Nerd? Me? Just a bit.
A long tradition (which no one but the very few Listers here will know is a long tradition) dictates that I forward our family Christmas card to you. Thus, here it is: yours to click.
My Girlfriend: "I *can't* stay in bed with you, I want to go to IKEA and buy that rug you don't like."
The special magic of us never fades.
The loss of Sophie Kinsella is horrible and shames the universe. I frankly don't care how successful an author she was (wildly). Far more importantly, I always found Maddie just a lovely, warm person and it's simply not right or fair that she's no longer here.
Spotify's annual Stats Info Puke has told me, among other things*, that my 'Listening Age' is 21, and also that my 4th most-listened-to artist was Engelbert Humperdinck. Conclusion: young people must be weird.
*Also that, in the 'Club' I belong to, 'Members insist on natural lighting.'
Um... OLED?
An advert just came up in my YouTube feed: "Take a test to see if you have ADHD".
I scrolled right past it.
You know, 'It's funny 'cos it's true'? If only that were funny, that awful cliché would for once be correct.
PS. 'Funny' is an odd word, isn't it? The more you stare at it, the odder it looks.
You'll probably see people *in* Wolverhampton waving at trains passing through there. But it's more a Stevie Smith kind of waving.
It's not the constant vigilance that's so tiring, it's the constant terror.
Came down to London in the car this time. Which is a bit of a long haul but, as always, my girlfriend and I split the burden: she drove, while I watched the road.
3/I picture them just nodding, like I've said enough - maybe too much.
I'm brought back to toothpaste and the present by the sound of the front door slamming downstairs announcing that she's left, with those knickers on now, probably.
Maybe I'm prone to overthinking while I'm in the bathroom.
Maybe.
2/'Then I'll come back.'
So...Um... So (before - for some reason - reconsidering mid-jamb) she *wasn't going to come back*? That would be it?
I picture friends asking, 'What happened, Mil? After all these years?' And me picking at my fingernails as I reply, 'She went to pilates.'
After which, oddly,
1/I'm brushing my teeth in the bathroom and my girlfriend, in a hurry but otherwise naked, sails in and says, 'I'm going to a pilates class at the community centre.'
She dances into a bra as she's heading back out, but, knickers in hand, pauses for a moment in the doorway. She turns to me, and adds,
However, it will include the confidence-building pairing of a Chutzpah Foot Spa and The Podiatric AirTag (for finding your feet).
