May 23, 2006

...it made my face stick, fast, just like my mother always said that it would.

I never really understood that expression, though. I just used to think it was an admonishment for when I was gurning at my brothers.

Now I know differently.

To clarify: My face is stuck in a broad, beaming smile right now.

Oh God, this is hard.

So hard.

But...

This place has been my sounding board for over six months. It's made me some brilliant and interesting new friends - some more than others, some much more than others - and I just wanted to say what a pleasant, fascinating, funny, sad, introspective, and sometimes positively intoxicating experience it's been.

Sitting here night after night, day after day, blogging away, posting, commenting, surfing, lurking... well, it just becomes addictive, doesn't it? And the laptop screen becomes a brightly lit window into the lives of so many others that it's hard to tear yourself away.

But tear myself away is what I'm going to do, all the same. And this time, I really do mean it.

This is not because of hassle, or hatred, or work, or anything like that. And it's not because I have started work on the great novel or anything like that, either (more's the pity).

There's something else, something which simply doesn't have a blogability rating, something I have to concentrate on, work at, and pursue.

So seriously, this is my last post.

I'll spend whatever time I get over the next week or so saving all my old blogs (well, you never know, I might one day want to start again) and then I'm going to delete the lot.

The blog friends - the dear blog friends - I have on email will hopefully remain just that.

I really mean that, too. Even - no, especially - the people who may or may not be entirely impressed with this decision.

And I will of course dip in from time to time to see how the rest of you are getting on.

It was probably obvious to anyone who has read JD's World regularly that despite the chutzpah, I've actually been going through quite a difficult time (and if it wasn't obvious, well, you weren't reading it properly. Tears of a clown, and all that).

It seems, however, that I'm not anymore.

Considering the inclement weather beyond these four walls, I now suddenly feel like the clouds have parted, that sun is beating down on my grateful face, that flowers are growing just that little bit faster around me, with more colour and more scent.

Yes, I can see rainbows around me and, for the first time in such a long time, I can see the day beyond tomorrow; a day I really look forward to.

So, you know. Be happy for me.

Blog on, dudes.

Your friend,

Zeds x

May 22, 2006

What a big girl's blouse Eamonn Holmes proved to be when Fathers 4 Justice invaded the lottery show on Saturday night (with apologies to big girls blouses, by the way).

He hid behind a woman when the demonstrators - that themselves included a woman - started waving their everso dangerous-looking placards around, then later announced that "there were a lot of very worried people in the studio and also watching at home on television".

Really?

Were you worried about Eamonn and his studio friends?

I know I certainly wasn't.

Putting aside the issue of the protest itself - personally, I find F4J tiresomely cack-handed (those fancy dress suits look like they've been salvaged from an Oxfam skip) even if their cause is a good one - Holmes, a former hard news reporter from Belfast, came across as a total wuss.

Just goes to show what years of plonking your fat arse on a sofa to talk about whatever's going on down Coronation Street while bitching to people about the incredibly harmless Anthea Turner - knowing that bored housewives across the country will simper along to your every "cheeky" utterance - does to you...

May 22, 2006

...but it is like constantly pressing your nose up against the toy shop window when your pocket money has run out.

Everyone who plays it wants to win. But really, no-one wants to win it more than me.

Nobody.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com

May 22, 2006

Erg (erg), noun
A large area of land covered with shifting sand. Also known as a sand sea.

Juzzzy and Nipper were hunched over an ancient map of the world, the former animatedly waving a brandy around as he held forth, while the latter tried hardly at all to stifle his yawns and wondered more whether there was any brandy left.

"And that," he said, pointing to an area of northern Africa, "is the Sahara, a vast erg whereupon I bravely fought many a bloody battle with tribes of nomadic savages. They called me The Mighty Dune Warrior O'Braveheart back then. Have I told you of The Great Battle Of The Western-"

"Erg?" interrupted Nipper, inexplicably.

"Yes, erg," repeated The Zeds, a little impatiently. "It's a bloody big desert. You know, where hamsters come from."

"Ah," said the buzzard, picturing a plump little rodent served up on a silver salver, surrounded by some steaming hot Jersey Royals and a pot of parsley butter, with a miniature green apple wedged firmly in its mouth. "Now you've got me interested."

May 21, 2006

Agastopia, noun.
The admiration of a single part of another’s body.

"It's her liver that I feel the most agastopia for, Nipper," said Juzzzy, referring to his new found companion.

" Angostura Bitters?" said the buzzard. "No thanks - just ice for me."

May 20, 2006

I really shouldn't be doing this.

I'm drunk, I'm at my mate's house, and I'm blogging. Can't resist it, however.

1. NAME ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
On my forehead, when I ran into a table when I was five.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
In my bedroom, a floor-to-ceiling drape of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. That statement is not going to help me in the pink shirt debate, mind, but there you are.

3. WHAT DOES YOUR MOBILE PHONE LOOK LIKE?
Like a mobile phone, curiously enough.

4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Whatever taxi drivers play. Otherwise, nowt. It's just noise.

5. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT DESKTOP PICTURE?
Mojo as a puppy (but it's not my laptop)

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
She knows only too well.

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Next.

8. WHAT TIME WERE YOU BORN?
2.20am.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME WHAT SPECIFIC ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE YOURSELF?
Don't drink. Work harder. Love less. Trust more. Write!

10. WHAT ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP?
Little ol' me. I'm very good at ruining stuff.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Of course. Who doesn't?

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Me.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
Issey Mayake

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOUR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Whatever.

15. DO YOU LIKE PAINKILLERS?
I self-medicate, curiously, and never take legal drugs.

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?
Coffee, maybe. Never Red Bull rubbish.

17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Chillis

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
The pasta that M is making as we speak, with some outrageously expensive parmesan that he's brought back from the Good Food Show in Brum this morning.

19. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
Capt Beanz at work.

20. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?
My Thai ain't awful.

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?
God knows. Lego.

22. DO U LIKE SOMEONE?
Yes.

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
No.

24. FAVOURITE CLOTHING BRAND?
Comme De Garcon. Sadly, can't afford a fucking thing from them.

25. WHAT'S YOUR DREAM CAR?
Whatever my chauffeur would be driving.

26. WHAT WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPIER?
J, K, and a million quid.

27. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MARRIAGE?£15,000 so other people can have a nice day out? No thanks.

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
I only love the wrong people, so probably.

29. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Tell them. It won't kill you.

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
19

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Both. Together

32. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL MOST OFTEN?
I don't. Oh, 1471.

33. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
Lack of generosity.

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF ENGLAND UK?
Zillions of times.

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Addictive personality. Everything else just slips into place.

36. WHAT WAS THE LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?
A fancy cheese from the Good Food Show.

37. FIRST JOB?
In a butcher's as a schoolboy. I lasted a day.

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
In the interests in legality, I can't answer that.

39. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Drinking wine at a party/

40. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Arse implants. Really must get one.

41. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE?
I average about three times a day lately.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
Writing. Humour. Absolutely bugger all else.

43. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?
Celebrate. By getting pissed.

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
J, K.

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
Moving on...

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
A man with a one inch dick, apparently - or at least that's what they told me in school.

47. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?
Christ, no.

48. WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVOURITE?
Eh?

49. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?
Last night. When I was being sick.

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
No.

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE VEGETABLE?
Chilli. Yes, I know it's a herb. Asparagus?

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Biting my nails.

53. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?
Don't have CDs.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Of course. I'm bloody great.

55. HAVE YOU EVER TOLD A SECRET YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL?
I'm a reporter. Go figure.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
Yes, no, depends.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?
Sarcasm.

58. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?
The Red Lion (for instance).

59. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?
No. But everyone starts at zero per cent with me, because that way, they can't disappoint me.

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVOURITE TOY AS A CHILD?
Lego.

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
268

62. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
*cough*

63. WHAT DO YOU LEAN, ON THAT YOU SHOULDN’T?
Booze, drugs, my one-time success.

64. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?
Christ, no.

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY?
Er, hopefully him not being a guy, actually. In a girl? Honesty.

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Juice, Juzzy, Juz, Just, J, Rat... Zeds (thanks Bells )

67. WHAT IS THE MOST PAIN YOU HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED?
Waking up in a cell, smashed and broken, after crashing my car while drunk. Pain on every level.

68. DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Yeah.

69. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU SPILLED?
A glass of wine.

70. WHAT’S FOR TEA DINNER?
Pasta.

71. WHAT’S THE LAST FURRY THING YOU TOUCHED?
Mojo's head.

72. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE COLOURS?
Pink Blue and white

73. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE BANDS/SINGERS?
Nope.

74. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?
None.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Couldn't care less. But most people have already anyway.

76. WHO ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
The melodic sound of my own voice

77. LAST THING YOU ATE?
Fresh bread and homemade tahini sauce (I know - I'm a stuffy twat).

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Mum.

79. WHAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
If she's laughing or not.

80. FAVOURITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG?
Nope

81. FAVOURITE THING TO HATE:
AM - the prick.

82. FAVOURITE DRINK:
Alochol.

83. FAVOURITE ZODIAC SIGN:
Mine (Sag... even though it's bollocks)

84. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SPORT?
Football.

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOUR?
Brown. With shocking amounts of grey.

86. EYE COLOUR?
Blue like tropical azure pools of dreamy loveliness

87. ARE YOU DOING THIS QUESTIONAIRRE IN ONE SITTING?
Yessum.

88. SIBLINGS?
Two big brothers.

89. FAVOURITE MONTH?
December, natch.

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
I'd rather saw off my own bollocks, saute them in lime and then cast them, casually, out of a moving train window to a pack of starving wildebeest.

91. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
Summat. Don't know.

92. FAVOURITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
Can think of many bad ones, but not a favourite.

93. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
Nah. I do it all the time. I'm just always drunk when I do it.

94. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Summer.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Fuck that - let's get down to business. Kisses.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Be honest - they're both fun.

97. WHO IS THE MOST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Fools like me.

98. WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
People who start their blogs with words with quotes from obscure books that instantly make them look like tossers.

99. BIGGEST FEAR?
Heights. Well, falling off them, to be specific.

100. IS ANYONE IN LOVE WITH YOU?
Dunno. But I certainly hope so.

May 20, 2006

This morning at 4.15am Last night when I fell through the front door got in there was a huge pool of deep-yellow Lemon Curd-consistency Bassett Hound wee in the kitchen, which I luckily got to clean up.

Later on after emerging from a coma This morning I was even more delighted to find a big puddle of Bassett Hound sick in the hallway which I was going to leave and pretend I hadn't seen that I have also been lucky enough to get to clean up.

Mojo, however - he of the eternally wagging tail and the large, floppy ears - has been fed his morning bowl of Special K and is now snoozing contentedly beneath the stairwell, dreaming about something that's making him snuffle quite a lot.

I'm now going back to bed, where it is highly possible I may die.

May 20, 2006

Ailurophobia, noun
Fear of cats

"This pink shirt thing," said Nipper, as Paul Boyd helped ease him back into his velvet strides. "It's a bit worrying, don't you think?"

"With The Zeds, you mean?" asked the Paulster.

"Yeah. Raises all kinds of questions."

"Oh, I don't know," said Boydy. "It could be he's just ailurophobic."

"Hmmm," accorded the buzzard. "Or he could just be afraid of pussy."

PB paid for his own cab.

May 19, 2006

I have just bought a pink double-cuffed shirt.

Whether that was an entirely good idea, however, is something I'm starting to question.

Hmm.

May 19, 2006

Juzzzy came home from the pub late one Friday evening absolutely stinking drunk, as he often did, and crept into bed beside his wife who was already asleep. He gave a her peck on the cheek and fell asleep.

When he woke, he found a strange man standing at the end of his bed wearing a long flowing white robe. "Who are you?" demanded Zeds, "and what are you doing in my bedroom?".

The mysterious man answered: "This isn't your bedroom, and I'm St Peter."

Zeds was stunned. "You mean I'm dead? That can't be, I have so much to live for. And I haven't said goodbye to my family - you've got to send me back, straight away."

St Peter replied: "Well, you can be reincarnated, but there is a catch. We can only send you back as a dog or a hen."

Zeds was devastated, but knowing there was a farm not far from his house, he asked to be sent back as a hen. A flash of light later he was covered in feathers and clucking around pecking the ground.

"This isn't so bad," he thought, until he felt this strange feeling welling up inside him.

The farmyard rooster strolled over and said: "So you're the new hen, how are you enjoying your first day here?"

"It's not so bad" replied Zeds, "but I have this strange feeling inside like I'm about to explode".

"You're ovulating" explained the rooster. "Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before?"

"Never," said Zeds.

"Well, just relax and let it happen."

And so he did, and after a few uncomfortable seconds, an egg popped out from under his tail. An immense feeling of relief swept over him and his emotions got the better of him as he experienced motherhood for the first time.

When he laid his second egg, the feeling of happiness was overwhelming and he knew that being reincarnated as a hen was the best thing that ever happened to him, ever.

The joy kept coming in deliriously joyous waves, and as he was just about to lay his third egg he felt an enormous smack on the back of his head and heard his wife shouting: "Zeds, you drunken twat, you're shitting the bed."

May 19, 2006

A South African gold miner lost his leg in an accident. Choking back tears later, he cried: ""It's over! Who's gonna want a one legged gold digger?"

Then his phone rang.

"Hi, it's Paul McCartney."

From http://www.popbitch.com

May 19, 2006

Nettles.

Does anyone have a *nice* memory of nettles?

No.

Of course not.

They are the wasps of the plant world.

But now they want us to be nice to the horrible stingy smell-like-wee fuckers.

For a whole week.

http://www.nettles.org.uk

The. World. Has. Gone. Mad.

May 19, 2006

I am a very sad man. Things like this fascinate me:

Margaritaceous (mar-guhr-i-TAY-shuhs) adjective
Pearly.

[From Latin margarita, from Greek margarites (pearl).]

Margarita, the tequila cocktail, is named after Margarita, the Spanish form of the name Margaret, meaning pearl. Who this woman was isn't certain. Perhaps this offers an opportunity to extend the meaning of the word margaritaceous after the drink.

May 19, 2006

Macrotous \Ma*cro"tous\, adj.
Large-eared.

"And that's why I dumped him," said Mavis, talking about Nipper. "For a buzzard, who I'm not sure whether they're even supposed to have the things or not, he was too bloody macrotous."

"Um, yes," said Maureen. "But, you know, did he have big feet?"

May 18, 2006

I AM: A constant disappointment; desperate for approval.

I WANT: To know serenity.

I WISH: I wasn't afraid of my own shadow.

I MISS: Anya, which makes me hate myself for not missing Joseph, my son, more.

I FEAR: Turning into my father. It's unimaginably horrific, yet every time I have a drink I take another step closer.

I HEAR: My own voice and wonder where the words are coming from.

I WONDER: What it would be like to be bigger (weight).

I REGRET: Everything. I threw it all away.

I AM NOT: Resourceful. But I delegate.

I DANCE: Badly, when pissed.

I SING: Very little. My voice sounds like a scalded cat.

I CRY: Quite easily at the stupidest things, but never in public. And even that only started when M broke my heart (the firrst time it happened - I have lots of experience since), at 21. I guess it never mended.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: Drunk. I just let people think that. It's pathetic, really.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Nothing. Unless words count?

I WRITE: To entertain. I think I'm quite good at it, but that's not the point. But it's bloody addictive, too.

I CONFUSE: My family. They can't understand why I'm not "settled". Neither can I.

I NEED: Looking after. Not mollycoddled, or mothered - just looked after by someone I look after, too.

I START: Books, but then I get bored. And blogging's easier - instant gratification. IE: Published straight away, little virtual claps on the back a few minutes later.

I FINISH: Drinks.

May 18, 2006

Actually, I didn't, but it's too late now to withdraw that.

Try this:

http://nerdnirvana.org/g4m3s/backalley.htm

May 18, 2006

Please note these are all numbered "1" for a reason.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us bitching about you leaving it down.

1. Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.

1. Saturday = Sports

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1. We don't remember dates. Mark them on a calendar and remind us frequently.

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. Check your oil! Please.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer that question anymore.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. Let us look. It doesn't hurt anyone, to look. And for us, it's genetic.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. We are not mind readers and we never will be.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will believe you.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. It is neither in your best interest or ours to take any quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.

1. BEER is as exciting for us as handbags are for you.

Thank you for reading this; Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that. It's near the TV, and it's like camping.

May 18, 2006

Q. What do Charles Kennedy and Mark Oaten have in common?

A. They both liked to spend their evenings getting shit-faced

May 18, 2006

Snail has finally started her blog at http://escargot.blog.co.uk

But...

She doesn't want to write anything.

No, instead she wants us all to burn our trousers, pray to non-dairy cheese and change our names to Lilliput. Or something.

So please, bombard the woman.

She'll buckle eventually...

May 18, 2006

So, The Da Vinci Code is finally out tomorrow, and already we have nutters going beserk about a film that will do precisely "nought" harm to anyone at all.

It's just a book that hit the zeitgeist bang on between the world's collective bollocks at exactly the right time. That's it. Period.

And besides, I actually prefer Angels and Demons. Ambigrams rock. (Even if it does get a bit stupid at the end with the tarpaulin thing.)

But something else occurred to me, as I was lounging in the Zeds Pit (as against the cess pit - although, thinking about it...) this morning.

When I were a lad, mummy and daddy (although it was probably more mummy), as well as dragging me to church, also used to force us all (I have two brothers) to watch this:

"This" being Jesus of Nazareth, starring Robert Powell, whose fame rocketed to such heights afterwards that he is now a regular in Holby City. Mind you, after playing Jesus, I suppose the only way is down, really.

This was an eight-part series in which, fact fans, Jesus/Powell never blinked, in order to give Big J a more mystical air. (Betcha didn't know that, did you? And neither did I until I read it on Wikipedia a couple of hours ago, admittedly.)

So far, then, so good. And a zillion miles away from the alleged heresy of The Da Vinci Code.

But what about this?

The Last Temptation Of Christ essentially told the story of the big fella from allegedly his own standpoint. He was free from sin - Martin Scorcese wasn't that brave - but not avert to a bit of lust every now and then, which I reckon is fair enough but had bishops banging their heads against walls - ahem - all over the place.

Willem Dafoe, who played Jesus, went on to star as the Green Goblin in Spiderman. There's a theme running here...

More recently, was the highly gory and thus contentious (but I thought bloody good) Passion Of Christ.

Directed by Mel Gibson and all done in Hebrew (a little hard, but we all know the story anyway) it details Jesus's last 12 hours before his crucifixion. It's a great movie, and needless to say, no-one died after watching it.

No, and I apologise for being long-winded, but if there was ever an offensive religious movie that would get me out on the streets, it would be this:

Not because it was about Scientology - because that actually made it rather funny; something that made you want to nudge your mates, point at it and snigger in a gloriously childish manner.

No, it was because it was absolutely shit.

May 18, 2006

Floccinaucinihilipilification, (FLOK-sih-noh-see-NEE-hee-lee-PEE-lih-fih-KAY-shun), noun.
An act or instance of judging something to be worthless or trivial

"He’s either deaf, stupid, impotent or gay – or all bloody four," harumphed Mrs Juzzzy.

"Why?" asked Nipper, his interest perked.

"Listen," she said. "I stripped off butt naked and asked him for a-" she cupped her hand around his non-ear (do birds have ears?) and whispered a naughty word in the buzzard’s, er, earhole thing – "and all I got in return was a floccinaucinihilipilification."

The bird looked puzzled, as well as a little unkempt.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked, carefully lowering his velvet trousers.

"Exactly," she replied, helping him.

May 17, 2006

George stood in the beer garden of The Fishmonger's Grinder with five of his friends, watching the terrible natural disaster unfold before their very eyes.

"Bloody hell," he said. "Juzzzy wasn't joking about that curry, was he?"

May 17, 2006

We finished work a little early yesterday, and as a result we went to our favourite little Hoylake hostelry for a deliciously ice-cold glass of white wine or four.

After that, I went home and had a couple of those little cans of new and improved (ie upped its strength to match Stella because no-one was buying the weak stuff anymore) Heineken.

Then I retired to the Indian takeaway that hadn't been open the night before, and purchased a fiery chicken madras, some pilau rice, some poppadums and the various extras that come with them.

I came home, scoffed the lot (hadn't eaten anything proper since Sunday tea dinner) and then flicked on the telly for a double dose of Lost.

If I'm double-dosing on Lost, then why not on everything else, I thought. So to add to yet more Heineken I poured myself a double-dose of Jack Daniels, too.

And then another one.

And, yes indeed, another one after that.

And so I went to bed, absolutely slaughtered, and completely knackered, with a belly full of snarling mad madras and joyously sloshing JD.

Today, however, ever since I woke up around midday, I have been reminded of those reckless few hours of over-indulgence and ill-judged mixology almost every half hour.

No sooner do I sit down, than I hear the faint, gutteral gurgle of impending doom; feel the heat rising across my stomach, chest, neck and cheeks; start wishing I was a polar bear sat spread-eagled atop the apex of a hard-tipped iceberg - then find myself suddenly sprinting like Michael Johnson (or perhaps someone who, though not as fast, doesn't look quite so weird when they're running) to seek refuge on the pleasingly cool ring of porcelain that nestles in our bathroom.

And yes, Bells, I do keep getting a kiss off the witch's lips.

May 17, 2006

Acersecomic, obs.
A person whose hair has never been cut

"Now look," said George, admonishment on his face but a slight quaver in his tone. "You've told me a lot of stories about the woman, but this one I just cannot believe. Not even about her."

"I tell you, it's true," insisted Juzzzy, shoving the jar of pickled gherkins back across the bar. He made a mental note to speak to George about the shoddy quality of his Ploughman's cheddar later on, then added: "She's a bloody acersecomic."

"But mate," protested George. "I've seen her come in here a thousand times - normally chasing you, mind - and she's had all kind of different hairstyles. Long, short, permed, straight-"

"Pigtails," offered Nipper, quietly, and not a little slyly.

"Yes, them, too," said George, giving the buzzard a quick, harsh glare. "So that's why I say you're talking rubbish."

Juzzzy leaned forward a little closer, after a furtive glance around the room.

"Not upstairs, you pair of nincompoops," he hissed. "I mean down below. In the underbeard department."

Nipper and George exchanged looks of abject horror - both at the subject of the conversation, and the fact Zeds was even telling them.

"I'm telling you," he continued. "Whoever told her the Rapunzel story when she was a child has a lot to answer for."