A Modest Proposal for Sustainable Drinking

Over the Christmas period, two pubs local to me closed their doors. In all honesty it would be a real stretch for me to call either of them – the Frothblower's Arms and Bar 44 (aka the Ale & Cider Press) locals in the true sense but I'd been in both for more than a just a few drinks.

The Frothblowers' Arms was a tiny place, one of those really old pubs ceiling height is unforgiving to anybody above the five foot six. Most people feel like one of the Tall Men from the West entering some Hobbit's watering hole upon entering.

Job Description

"So what do you do?"

"I'm a writer."

"Oh cool. What sort of stuff to you write?"

"Mostly stuff for the web. I mainly do reviews of mobiles, news about new phones that sort of thing."

(as well as keep a blog which I half-arsedly update every so often)

Done your Christmas shopping yet?

Have you? Thought not. Take my advice and get it done now or you'll regret it.

Last year's bitter experience hunting down presents for family, friends and a girl I'd all but given up hope on rekindling a waning relationship with was a stress inducing daymare I'd not willingly repeat.

A Christmas Eve Eve (Dec 23rd) shop, even in the most parochial, provincial enclave of the sleepy South can and will turn into the Rape of Nanking.

November 2009 was my Gordon Comstock Month

Almost exclusively:

get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, get up, go to work...

Hence next to no Wine Gums and Poppycock.

More this month, I swear.

F*lix the F*x - The world's biggest masochist?

Whatever your views on fox hunting are, you have to agree that this is pretty stupid. Here is a link to a page run by FightTheBan.com, which features a silhouette of an anthropomorphic fox mascot in hunting regalia sticking two fingers up to somebody - presumably Tony Blair or the BBC or some loony leftie.

The logo, whilst quite nicely drawn, is massively stupid for one obvious reason - the mascot is a FOX which is PRO-FOX HUNTING. That's the kind of stupid that's on par the level of a British Muslim voting for the BNP.

Chris Evans killed in Afghanistan: Lookalike League Table updated

I suppose it should be flattering when a stranger or casual acquaintance remarks on your resemblance to someone rich and famous. Unless of course that person happens to be Chris Evans. I was recently asked by a patron of one of my local boozers if I was 'looking forwards to taking over Terry Wogan's show'. Cheeky fucker.

It had been a while since I'd been compared that "jumped-up kissogram-turned-light-entertainment colossus."*

Annoyingly this recent remark catapults him up my Lookalike League Table a couple of notches. My mis-en-scene Premiership** for the 09-10 season now looks something like this:

Gary Glitter: Bad Reputation

So, 'The Execution of Gary Glitter', Channel 4 last night.

Apparently, the chap who played Paul Gadd in what was supposedly an 'intelligent and thought-provoking examination' on the death penalty (according to Channel 4), had a bit part in Return of the Jedi.

Garry Bushell and Anne Widdecombe? Really? You've actually made me use italics for emphasis three times now.

I hope you're happy Channel 4.