London Rage and Womb Spearing

The number one cause of my personal London Rage is men, it is usually men, carrying golf umbrellas. I seem to spend the majority of a rainy day avoiding a womb spearing. I don't know whether this fear originates from the stories I was told at school to stop me from running to the other side of the field to collect my javelin or whether the fear is real. Would I still have a womb, if indeed I have one, if I had not been so fearful of the golf umbrella? I almost believe that the umbrella carrying men are not real men, but aliens in disguise with the task of eradicating the human race. I suspect that they are doing fairly well but they won't eradicate me or alter child bearing ability.

Thought - why are golf umbrellas shaped like spears? Are there whales in the water features on golf courses?

Cheer on the Bantams - they need it!

Head Explosion

I have been away. I will be away a lot. My mind is full. So full. Writing should be like pulling the plug out of a bath, releasing thoughts into the country's drainage system. It is, only the plug hole is full of hair. Long black hair. Where does it come from? I don't live with anybody with long black hair. There are lots of things that don't make sense. Why does boiling water come from the water cooler? That was the thought I struggled with today. I will attempt to provide an answer so don't, one reader, lose sleep over it. Anyway, I feel I am going way off the point here. The point is, in case you missed it, I have been unable to write. Hairy Monkey's hairier friend suggested that I choose a topic to write about and write. "Which topic?", I replied. "Jazz?", said Hairy Monkey's hairier friend. Of course I know absolutely nothing about jazz and when I think of jazz it makes me cringe because I think of cheesy jazz not any sort of modern or free jazz. Yes, I am ignorant on the subject and in my attempt to write about it I have chosen to write about my favourite word.

My favourite word

When recently interviewing (in the loosest sense), for a new housemate, my existing housemates (the Bee Gee, Spiderlegs and Jimmidy) and I asked questions like, what is your favourite vegetable? and what is your favourite spirit? No, stop Bee Gee don't you dare reply Casper again. But one day Spiderlegs asked, "what is your favourite word?" What? What are you saying? What sort of ridiculous question is that! Of course, we didn't make anybody answer that but spent the entire time ridiculing Spiderlegs.

I later thought about my favourite word, and....nope, I don't have a favourite word. However, I do have a funniest word, a word that when I am feeling down I need only to say once to make me smile. And the word...

cummerbund

..told you.