I’m not convinced you want to recover

My girlfriend bakesLife is good. My girlfriend has taken up baking. Her gingerbread men are almost as delicious as her banana loaf. Everyone said she’d have a bun in the oven within months of us living together, and they weren’t wrong.

Baked goods go well with coffee, but one of the biggest disappointments a man can bear is that coffee never tastes as good as it smells. It mismanages your expectations. Coffee tells you it’ll be with you in 20 minutes, then turns up an hour late. If coffee was a person, it’d work in advertising. Coffee would be called Julian and he’d have the word ‘creative’ in his job title.

Maybe it would be responsible for those disturbing Evian adverts with the skateboarding babies, which, incidentally, uses the VERB ADJECTIVE formula I was talking about a couple of months ago. (‘Live young.’)

Same ideas, over and over. Like the talent shows with Simon Cowell on the panel. Is there any end to this? The phenomenon of mawkish sentimentality and gratuitous cruelty would peak if someone managed to combine Britain’s Got Talent, Strictly Come Dancing and Children in Need.

The show would be called ‘Strictly Undergoing Chemo’. Each week, a number of cancer sufferers, ideally children, would receive a dose of radiation live on stage, and then return the following week for Simon Cowell, Piers Morgan and Cheryl Cole to judge their recovery. They would have to sing and dance, and maybe play violins. Davina McCall would present it. It would be sponsored by Evian. Live young!

Simon would say things like “You know, Timmy, I’m not convinced you WANT to recover. You’re still very jaundiced. I’m not getting much positivity from you.”

Oh, Mickey

Last week, on the first sunny day in a long time, I was lucky enough to have meetings in Farringdon, London Bridge and then Westminster. I walked from place to place. I love walking around London. Even after 11 years of living here, I feel joyful and blessed to call London home.

Apart from the South Bank, which depresses me. What has to happen in someone’s life for them to decide to paint themselves silver and stand on a box all day? Then there’s the professional punks: the guys with the green mohawks and the studded jackets who pose for photos with credulous tourists. The saddest sight of all is the old man in the costume shop version of a Buckingham Palace Guard’s uniform, with a miniature Bearskin hat. The poor old sod.

There’s always a couple of blokes dressed as Mickey Mouse on the South Bank, which puzzles me. What does Mickey Mouse have to do with the London? As I walked past, a bloke in a suit said to one Mickey, “You’re a blight on the landscape!”

Blair and his cosy chat with Chilcot

Three things struck me when I watched footage of Blair appearing before the Chilcot stich-up Inquiry:

1. Tony Blair makes me itch on the inside.
2. When he said he was sorry the war was so divisive, he meant he was sorry people opposed him.
3. He is a psychopath.

The traits of the psychopathic personality:

>> glibness and superficial charm
>> callous lack of empathy
>> mendacious and manipulative
>> criminal versatility
>> failure to accept responsibility for their own actions
>> lack of remorse or guilt
>> pathological lying
>> grandiose sense of self worth
>> parasitic lifestyle

Does that sound like any ex-prime ministers you know?

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4 Responses to I’m not convinced you want to recover

  1. Amardeep says:

    Blair is a cunt. That is a fact.

    any chance of saving some gingerbread for me?

  2. Nas says:

    Amardeep, I’ll bake you you very own gingerbread man!

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