If only Inspector Morse was still alive, I could write to him and point this out.
Engineering work has meant half the trains I take to work just don’t exist, and the others are taking a tortuous, circuitous route o’er hill and down dale.
That’s right – I have acquired a phone that lets me blog on the train.
I was in a shopping centre today and it was lovely and airy (air con), and then I popped outside to get some sunlight only to be surrounded by smoking chavs.
There is possibly a company out there who really can allow me to “plough her furrow with your new bigger tool” but who are perplexed that their online marketing isn’t working.
Part two, in which I talk about Waterstone’s and holiday destinations.
Every (old) comedian has a variant on the El-oh-el routine, and although I’m sure one of them did it first, I’m equally sure it wasn’t me.
Valentine’s day approaches, and all I want (to buy for RJ) is a simple mug with some kind of love motif. Hearts maybe, or a stylised rose. I’m not too fussy. Why is it so hard to find a heart mug without “world’s best shag”, “100% vajazzled” or “big cock”* on it? Surely it’s not …
We could do with a new greeting that intertwines grumbling at having to be in the office, a general feeling of bloatedness and a growing mistrust of turkey and tinsel.
“FLY RJ TO SIX ASIAN CITIES”.