Today I bought myself perfume, socks and nematodes; it's nice to treat oneself now and then.

Meanwhile, a good few years ago I stopped Bernard Cribbins in the street and asked for his autograph. The poor man was merely trying to buy some superglue for his fishing rod (which seems like cheating to me but then nothing about angling is particularly ( Read more... )

 My tie smells funny today; rather as if it's had intimate doings with a coconut since last it graced my neck. It's a little distracting.

 Jeezum crap, how can triffids look less realistic now than they did in the Eighties?

So, against my better judgement, I watched True Blood last evening and was amazed to see that, presumably in an effort to avoid black stereotypes, the scriptwriters have resurrected Hollywood Montrose from Mannequin. It was good to see him again.

Yesterday morning I spent a happy five minutes imagining the venerable mayor of Londontown releasing an album of Smiths covers under the name Borrissey.

'Ah ... I was ... um, you know, happy ... ah, in the haze of a drunken hour ... (well, you know, we all ... ah ... do it from time to time, nothing wrong with that) but um ... heaven knows I'm, well ( Read more... )

Hullo you,

As I'm not sure if I have your correct e-mail address, thought I'd slip this into LiveJournal and if I don't see you there, then hopefully somewhere else soon.

spim x

spimcoot: It's so long ago since our last joint birthday bash that I can barely remember it. 
Michelle: I couldn’t remember it the day after.

spimcoot: Perhaps we should have ( Read more... )

So a wonderful weekend had (thank you Rick). Dare say Arkansas has researched the answers to the film trivia we were squeezing our poor alcohol sodden brains for and been too ashamed to post the answers. They are:

Judd Nelson was not in Panic Room. Not even slightly.

Class was the film starring Andrew McCarthy and Rob Lowe with Jaqueline Bisset ( Read more... )

I just asked Dictionary.com for a definition of pigeon chest and it came back with a 'sponsored link' advertisement for bird cabinets. Oy!

Last night my mother dreamt that she was kissing Clement Freud who was dressed as a policeman.

So I went round to Rick's at the weekend with a lump of butter and stuck it in a saucepan, melted it, skimmed it and separated its milky white solids. We might not have drunk it out of each other's armpits but at least we got one thing clear.