2001-01-29 - 15:16:53

�For the next 2 minutes 45, live for the moment�forget your life� forget your life��

We haven�t had TV in the house for the last 4 days � the cable wire was cruelly severed by the door, er, thingy�bit that turns�hinge (word radar off- kilter warning � inarticulation ahead�). Anyway, it meant that on the rare times we convened in the kitchen/lounge area together and simultaneously, we had to indulge in quaint old-fashioned traditions like listening to the wireless and talking to each other. I mean, we do talk to each other as a matter of course anyway, but it seemed weird without it being to the soundtrack of �Worlds Funniest Invertebrates!� or �When TV Chefs Attack!�. But Mr Cable appeared this afternoon like a big old moustachioed, cup-of-tea-hinting-at (�I ain�t �ad time to fart today, guv�nor�a cup of tea�d be laaaaaarv-lee��) restorer of social equilibrium. We have new flatmates who are way too young to have the halfway decent jobs that they undeniably do, so anything to drown out their crowing is a bonus.

I�ve told this joke before, but it so deserves a repeat. What�s the difference between a TV chef and a cross-country run? A cross-country run is a pant in the country.

WHAT?!? I LOVE that joke.

�Oh, I�m no angel with a halo�I�m just another voice on your radio��

I went to a club on Saturday night that was so stunningly bad that I can�t even bring myself to talk about it. Why is it that the worst clubs always have the most expensive alcohol, and therefore the chances for altering perceptions are severely limited, simply enhancing the awfulness further? OK, OK, I guess you can just leave, but where�s the victory in that. I see it as a challenge to your drinking resourcefulness. Me? I went for a combination of Becks lager consumed at high velocity, interspersed with straight vodka chasers � speed is the key to negating the effects of high prices, I find. And I was so smashed by the end of the evening that I even danced to Robbie Williams (in a post-modern, ironic, mocking way, natch).

Which means a TV chef is a cunt in the pantry!! C�mon! That�s funny!!!

�Forget about it all�for the next 25 seconds�forget your life� forget your life��

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