Ahh, Christmas - that special time of year when the entire Christian world enthusiastically sets about attempting to attain the physical dimensions of a Lancashire sow by ingesting the caloric equivalent of a well-cooked-and-seasoned 2-year-old child (the other, other white meat) in one day. Bless Coca Cola and the poultry farming mafia for making it the event it now is.
Here in London, the full-time whistle has finally blown on the panic-stricken sale-mongering of the big retailers, leaving the streets largely empty and the population largely underwhelmed. Contrary to first (slightly desperate) predictions, there wasn't any snow on Christmas Day to distract everyone from their ballooning mortgage debts and smaller-than-usual pressies. It was nippy, but the sun shone for most of Christmas Day and today, Boxing Day. Someone must've known I'd decided to walk from my place in London Bridge up to Hackney and back and taken pity on my naive optimism.
Apart from the disgraceful bleating and pleading from M&S, Harrods, Tescos, Woolies and co., the lead-up to Christmas here seemed rather un-eventful. It was like the news and current affairs seemed to slow down in direct proportion to the number of residents bleeding out to warmer climates to escape the red-and-white Christmas saturation of every aspect of English life. Maybe it was just me, but London seemed almost quiet. Ye gods.
So, after finishing early at work, Christmas Eve saw me kicking back in the early afternoon before my Chrissie phone calls to home, sipping on a tall, ice-choked glass of Cap'n Morgan and coke, nibbling on my Tescos Christmas pudding (which bore a striking resemblance to Winston Churchill), with the flat to myself after my housemate scrambled away to Bermuda, immersing myself in the amazingly-satisfying tv smorgasbord on offer.
Embarassingly, a small, persistent, Clark-Griswald-like corner of my being relishes Christmas and all its trappings. So being able to flick through what seemed like every single Christmas movie ever made at my leisure was like sneaking a guilty little treat from the fridge of someone you're housesitting for. Forbiddenlicious.
There was also a plethora of other stonkingly-good-but-embarassing stuff on, like both versions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the Dr Who Christmas Special, music channels with The Top 50 (insert phrase here) Songs of All Time, you name it. There was even a Christmas panto starring Ronnie Corbett, which I had to watch for 5 minutes just to remember how truly awful panto is (Ohhh no it isn't! Ohhh yes it is! Ohhh no it isn't! Sheesh. Some wine with that cheese?).
Christmas Day I trekked over to my friend's place in Hackney, a good hour's walk (no public transport, and taxis were asking for your first unborn child and a weekly percentage of your salary). Great stuff with the empty footpaths though, loved it - an empty London when the sun's out is a sight to see. Zhera and Mark cooked up a storm of mouthwatering canapes and roasted goodness while I dutifully quaffed the wines I'd bought over and joined in on eye-wateringly-bad Moulin Rouge duets. Oh, and started off like an absolute demon at Jenga before turning to water in the final two rounds. Finished up with swollen bellies and magic cocktails that seemed to empty almost as quickly as they were filled. Great Xmas Day all round.
Now, for New Years' Eve........ is it illegal to do nothing for New Years Eve if you're in London? Someone the other day suggested with a straight face that here in Londinium they quietly drag such fun-dodgers away and they re-appear on Jan 1st "re-Neducated". Bah. Bollocks to that. You can stick your 30pound taxi fares and 50 pound cover charges right up your London Eye as far as I'm concerned. Ahem.
Hope you've all had a suitably calorie-saturated Chrissie - let me know if you're doing anything utterly mind-blowing to bring in the New Year. Maybe I'll be inspired to try and break my run of 4 rubbish-to-average NYE's in a row.
Friday, 26 December 2008
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
CROYDON IN THE NEWS
Well who would’ve thought Croydon was such a wild’n’crazy place? There’s been two, count ‘em, TWO national-news-worthy events here in Costa del Croydon in the last 7 days. And they don't even involve murders (Croydon's having a break from those this week, apparently - something about it being too cold to hold a knife for too long, or something). The locals must be in a veritable frenzy of excitement at getting their rooftops on the box in relation to something other than mugshots……ummmm........
Event # 1: Croydon Councillor Quits After IRA Past Revealed
The damage: Epileptic fits, broken arms and ankles, stomach injuries, asthma attacks, panic attacks, lost berets, hurt feelings, smeared eyeshadow etc etc. A heavily pregnant woman had to be extricated from the tidal wave (one might ask what the hell she was doing there at all) suffering bruising and severe loss of dignity. A handful of screechers had to be taken to hospital suffering sundry broken nails and ruffled bouffants or thereabouts. Apparently some sections even Threw Down and got stuck right into a good old-fashioned, Barbies-and-lip-gloss-at-ten-paces brouhaha, as “feral girl-gangs” got Naomi Campbell on each other with their diamante-studded nails and Hello Kitty phones. Outstanding. If only I’d had the binoculars, I could’ve provided the BBC with a slap-by-slap commentary from my desk.
Event # 1: Croydon Councillor Quits After IRA Past Revealed
One of Croydon’s Tory Councillors quit in spectacular fashion last week after a punter at one of Council’s public hearings outed her as being an ex-IRA provisional. Apparently the smug gentleman in question referred to Councillor Maria Gatland by her maiden name mid-rant, then corrected himself by saying he was confused after reading a book she’d written under that name when she was a young’un (cue smirk from punter). Turns out Councillor Gatland was up to her neck in it with an IRA gun-smuggling crew in the ‘70’s and wrote a tell-all book after she broke up with one of the men in the crew and left the whole nail-bombs-‘n’-Guiness thing behind. She go bye-bye very quickly once that little doozy came out. Good to see the Tory Party maintains a strict policy of checking the CVs of all those applying for Party membership, ey?
Event #2: TeenyBoppers Riot At Croydon's Fairfield Hall
Any of you heard of “The X Factor”? If not, it’s basically yet another tv programme from the same cookie cutter as the rest of the “Australia ’s Got Emotionally-Challenged Teenaged Singers Who Can’t Write Their Own Material”-style "talent" shows. Anyhoo, The X Factor producers put on a live show at Croydon’s Fairfield Hall (across the road from my work building) Monday night, and we could hear the screaming of the crazy-eyed fans from the 18th floor at work (through double-glazing) when their favourite plucked'n'primped demi-gods turned up.
The X-Factor producers were out front whipping the crowd into a frenzy (they're not top of the pops in The Bill's books right now as a result), but Fairfield had sent out flyers suggesting the show was free when in reality tickets were needed. Management had also underestimated the power thousands of temporarily-insane young moppets could generate when stimulated by too much advertising, bland pop music, hormones and Red Bull, and kept the doors shut as the keening masses watched They Who Cannot Think For Themselves enter the building. Cue ugliness.
The underage mob got their first unwanted taste of what a Sepultura moshpit is like as large sections of their ranks turned into those zombies from 28 Days Later and tried to storm the barricades in a desperate attempt to keep their Objets du Lust in sight. The paltry handful of security guards on duty immediately got on the blower and ordered up some bacon ala kevlar, who, upon seeing the rabid Children of the Corn they were facing, immediately called in THEIR crowd control specialists. Much of the video footage shot by cameramen silly enough to get near the front of this puzzling mass of insanity looks strangely similar to scenes of starving Bangladeshis or Somalians at the UN food trucks – just with shinier hair, better clothes and more tears.
The damage: Epileptic fits, broken arms and ankles, stomach injuries, asthma attacks, panic attacks, lost berets, hurt feelings, smeared eyeshadow etc etc. A heavily pregnant woman had to be extricated from the tidal wave (one might ask what the hell she was doing there at all) suffering bruising and severe loss of dignity. A handful of screechers had to be taken to hospital suffering sundry broken nails and ruffled bouffants or thereabouts. Apparently some sections even Threw Down and got stuck right into a good old-fashioned, Barbies-and-lip-gloss-at-ten-paces brouhaha, as “feral girl-gangs” got Naomi Campbell on each other with their diamante-studded nails and Hello Kitty phones. Outstanding. If only I’d had the binoculars, I could’ve provided the BBC with a slap-by-slap commentary from my desk.
One thing of note I did see from my lofty perch was the giant, menacing secondary wave of uniform-clad local schoolgirls sweeping across the plaza at 4pm like a phalanx of blazer-wearing Berserkers to fling themselves bodily into the heaving pile of flesh and North Face overcoats that was the "line". They've been described by many in the crowd as being foaming-at-the-mouth wild animals and the cause of much of the trouble. Where's Jamie Oliver when you need him?
Rumours also abound that perhaps the X-Factor judges engineered the madness to dilute the bad press from a contestant's kinky s*x tape that's just been released (much to the delight of Clearasil-dodgers nationwide). A course of action which would be like trying to make up for a 20-vodka-shots-and-arrested Friday night by having a Saturday night doing lines of coke off a public toilet seat in Kings Cross. Probably not going to improve your situation.
News from me - not much. Certainly no inflammatory crowd-baiting or Mick-outing, that's for sure. Went out to yet another centuries-old pub and then a swanky new nightclub last Friday night for a friend's birthday, but sadly there were no papparazzi-worthy moments of hedonism or controversy to be had. I did, however, meet Shane Warne's Biggest Fan In The World - he was my taxi driver on the way home. I didn't get a word in edgewise. Not one.
Cold here, -2 degrees last night, and everyone's dog-miserable or sick or both, dagnabit - so give me the lowdown on some funny stuff that's been happening in your vicinity. Or I'll tell people you all belong to a cult that sacrifices cuddly kittens to Steve Urkel.
Hope you're well!
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
LIFE BACK IN BLIGHTY
Great Odin's raven, could it really be a week-and-a-half since I bag-of-chalked back in the Roger from New York already? Where'd that go? I'm so shocked I'll be using cockney rhyming slang for the next few paragraphs.
Well, to sum it up, I've not done much but horse-and-cart about at work trying to catch up with thousands of urgent emails so that I don't end up on the Adrian Mole. That, and trying not to spend more than an Ayrton Senna per day (less than a Lady Godiva would be even better) as the ol' cab rank's a bit empty, and taking the dancing bears instead of the lift to try and regain some fitness, seeing as I haven't been near the Benny Hinn for weeks now (not keen on losing any more pieces-of-eight, y'feel me, guv'na?).
Oh yeah, and today I had my first court appearance for work. Had the distinct pleasure of being verbally skewered by a Tom Sawyer with a habit of constantly fiddling with his orchestra stalls as if he had a bad case of the Sandy McNabs. Well distracting, let me tell you. Didn't help that the policy base I was working from is completely up the Gary Glitter - more holes in it than a fishing net. I needed a Porta-Hole to throw down and disappear into.
Other than that I don't have much more wooden pews, personally. Coming up, I've got to find a titfer' for a dress-up birthday Moriarty next Friday night. Also have a weekend in Malta in January locked in (thanks fam! top Xmas pressie), as well as 2 weeks in Sri Lanka in February (should be an unbelievable lemon&lime, can't wait).
Right then, enough self-amusement. Here's what else has been happening here lately:
NEWS
You Say Recession, I Say Depression
In a sure sign that the Four Horsemen of the Financial Apocalypse are thundering down the final straight, retail behemoths Woolworths and BMI (homewares) both announced today that they're skint, the banks have called in all their debts and they're officially going under. 135,000 jobs or thereabouts gonnnnnnnnnnnne. The response from the government to the slavering feeding frenzy that is the UK's media was: "No bailout".
Oh, Thank You Darling
Alistair Darling, the UK's Chancellor of the Exchequer (that's publicschool-ese for Treasurer, don't you know, old bean) did the political equivalent of tempting a lost, hungry racehorse into his barn with sugarcubes this week by slashing the VAT. The government's publicly-stated reason for doing so is to keep all those rotund little Prada-consumers shopping their vacuous brains out leading up to Xmas and thereby avert an absolute economic disaster. I call it a blatant grab for votes in the next election and a desperate attempt to stop the villagers taking up the pitchforks and torches.
Do More, Damn You! With Less!
What a shock - more recession news. PM Mr Bean.... sorry, Gordie Brown made the suggestion that all the UK's local governments must make over 1.5 billion pounds' worth of "efficiency cuts" before the end of the financial year. Because the local governments are so flush with cash right now. And they're operating so efficiently right now too. An example for illustration: My floor at work seats 110 people and has one scanner. Which only works if you give it a good belting and look menacingly at it. Guess I'll be nipping out to the local internet cafe for all my scanning needs next year. If I still have a job.
Arctic Monkeys
Sunday just gone saw snow on the rooftops south of the Thames, and it's getting that cold again now and for the rest of the week..... with rain every day. Just capital. It's been so cold in the mornings the last two days that I daren't stop moving while outdoors in case the hoarfrost gets at my appendages. Walking to the train station this morning it was so cold I went cross-eyed and my Hampstead Heath felt like they were going to drop out. Did I mention it was getting a tad chilly here? I may be forced to ....(shudder)... go shopping for more warm clothes. I feel like taking a shower after saying that.
And Finally, The World's Most Thrilling, Unbelievably Mind-Blowing News
Yes, in what must surely be the entertainment industry's signing of the century, the new Cinderella pantomime coming out for Xmas here in London has announced it's top-billing star...... STEVE GUTTENBERG!!!!!!!!!!! That's right kiddies, the international acting wunderkind, mesmerising star of such epic and avant-garde opuses as the Police Academy trilogy and........ well, he's taken time out from his gruelling schedule of occasional guest star spots, infomercials and checking his answering machine to bless the good folk of London and the world of panto with his megawatt starpower. I, for one, am absolutely lost for words to describe the extent of my excitement.
Okay, I'm well Kerry'd, so I'll say toodle-oo for now. Hope you're all well :)
Well, to sum it up, I've not done much but horse-and-cart about at work trying to catch up with thousands of urgent emails so that I don't end up on the Adrian Mole. That, and trying not to spend more than an Ayrton Senna per day (less than a Lady Godiva would be even better) as the ol' cab rank's a bit empty, and taking the dancing bears instead of the lift to try and regain some fitness, seeing as I haven't been near the Benny Hinn for weeks now (not keen on losing any more pieces-of-eight, y'feel me, guv'na?).
Oh yeah, and today I had my first court appearance for work. Had the distinct pleasure of being verbally skewered by a Tom Sawyer with a habit of constantly fiddling with his orchestra stalls as if he had a bad case of the Sandy McNabs. Well distracting, let me tell you. Didn't help that the policy base I was working from is completely up the Gary Glitter - more holes in it than a fishing net. I needed a Porta-Hole to throw down and disappear into.
Other than that I don't have much more wooden pews, personally. Coming up, I've got to find a titfer' for a dress-up birthday Moriarty next Friday night. Also have a weekend in Malta in January locked in (thanks fam! top Xmas pressie), as well as 2 weeks in Sri Lanka in February (should be an unbelievable lemon&lime, can't wait).
Right then, enough self-amusement. Here's what else has been happening here lately:
NEWS
You Say Recession, I Say Depression
In a sure sign that the Four Horsemen of the Financial Apocalypse are thundering down the final straight, retail behemoths Woolworths and BMI (homewares) both announced today that they're skint, the banks have called in all their debts and they're officially going under. 135,000 jobs or thereabouts gonnnnnnnnnnnne. The response from the government to the slavering feeding frenzy that is the UK's media was: "No bailout".
Oh, Thank You Darling
Alistair Darling, the UK's Chancellor of the Exchequer (that's publicschool-ese for Treasurer, don't you know, old bean) did the political equivalent of tempting a lost, hungry racehorse into his barn with sugarcubes this week by slashing the VAT. The government's publicly-stated reason for doing so is to keep all those rotund little Prada-consumers shopping their vacuous brains out leading up to Xmas and thereby avert an absolute economic disaster. I call it a blatant grab for votes in the next election and a desperate attempt to stop the villagers taking up the pitchforks and torches.
Do More, Damn You! With Less!
What a shock - more recession news. PM Mr Bean.... sorry, Gordie Brown made the suggestion that all the UK's local governments must make over 1.5 billion pounds' worth of "efficiency cuts" before the end of the financial year. Because the local governments are so flush with cash right now. And they're operating so efficiently right now too. An example for illustration: My floor at work seats 110 people and has one scanner. Which only works if you give it a good belting and look menacingly at it. Guess I'll be nipping out to the local internet cafe for all my scanning needs next year. If I still have a job.
Arctic Monkeys
Sunday just gone saw snow on the rooftops south of the Thames, and it's getting that cold again now and for the rest of the week..... with rain every day. Just capital. It's been so cold in the mornings the last two days that I daren't stop moving while outdoors in case the hoarfrost gets at my appendages. Walking to the train station this morning it was so cold I went cross-eyed and my Hampstead Heath felt like they were going to drop out. Did I mention it was getting a tad chilly here? I may be forced to ....(shudder)... go shopping for more warm clothes. I feel like taking a shower after saying that.
And Finally, The World's Most Thrilling, Unbelievably Mind-Blowing News
Yes, in what must surely be the entertainment industry's signing of the century, the new Cinderella pantomime coming out for Xmas here in London has announced it's top-billing star...... STEVE GUTTENBERG!!!!!!!!!!! That's right kiddies, the international acting wunderkind, mesmerising star of such epic and avant-garde opuses as the Police Academy trilogy and........ well, he's taken time out from his gruelling schedule of occasional guest star spots, infomercials and checking his answering machine to bless the good folk of London and the world of panto with his megawatt starpower. I, for one, am absolutely lost for words to describe the extent of my excitement.
Okay, I'm well Kerry'd, so I'll say toodle-oo for now. Hope you're all well :)
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