Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 10 February 2013
I went to bed last night with the sincere intention of going to work and setting the fragment traced above onto the place of the plaster backing-board which I decided it was most likely to have been, but I went to bed drunk.
One look out of the window sent me straight back under the covers, then I heard that Julie Birchill was to be featured on Desert Island Discs, so I got up in time to listen to it over coffee. This was definitely going to be a whole lot more entertaining than the ex head of Tesco, I thought, and I was right.
The name Julie Birchill will probably not mean anything to anyone outside of the UK, so I suggest that the rest of you skip the following paragraph, if you have not already decided to do just that.
Wasn't she mad? What's with this obsession with the Jews? Taking the Torah instead of the Bible? Listening - if forced to choose one record only - over and over again to the Israeli National Anthem?! And that voice! Like something from 'The Exorcist' (her words, not mine)! One slight but irritating piece of misinformation given out on one of her records, though. A correction: Jesus of Nazareth spoke Aramaic, not Hebrew. All in all, I ended up thinking that the world would be a poorer place without her. We need nut-cases like her, even if we often want to send them away to a desert island.
I got drunk by accident yesterday, even though it was Saturday. The Taxidermist had got back from Morocco, and was working in the pub - looking even browner than she looked before she left in the snowstorm.
So me and the Green-Eyed Girl spent a while talking with her in the garden before Old Green-Eyes went off to a party out of town. As Taxi stood behind the bar, proudly farting for all to hear (I told you she was eccentric), I spotted a new, Speyside whisky on the shelf, looking tantalisingly pale and inviting, so I tried it out. I was feeling a little bloated with the ale I had been drinking, so diluting it upwards with a single malt seemed like a good idea at the time.
That inspired me to buy a whole bottle of it on the way home, and that - in turn - inspired me to begin designing the new website for the latest business venture, and it was not until about 3.00 A.M. that I remembered I have a complete website design feature already installed on this machine, and that is when I retired to bed.
When I turned on the Mac this morning, I found a variety of emails welcoming me to various 'free' web hosting sites dotted around the USA, and inviting me to upgrade my package (I wish) by sending them money. I expect that these are all - like the Hotel California and Facebook - impossible to leave, so I also expect to be hearing from them every day until I change my identity, die and/or skip the country.
Today, I am not what you would call seriously hung-over, but I do have that nagging, slightly angst-ridden feeling that I may have made a fool of myself, insulted someone, taken the name of the Lord in vain, made a grab for the Taxidermist (actually, I know I did that, but I don't regret it) or countless other transgressions too numerous to individually name.
I made a breathless promise to go back to the pub after I have finished working tonight, but in the cold light of day, I don't think I will be doing either.