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2001-05-06 - 9:00 p.m.

�Fitter, happier, more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much��

You know that song, �To All the Girls I�ve Loved Before�? I was thinking about it this morning and it has to be one of the most indulgent, self-congratulatory pieces of rancid pap ever. I remember seeing Julio Iglesias and some old country has-been whose name escapes me singing it on TV some years ago. Just remembering them crooning �To all the girls I�ve loved before, I�m glad you came along, I dedicate this song�blah blah blah� Now I know Mr Iglesias has had rumpo with the female numerical equivalent of Indo-China but I can�t believe that on hearing these sentiments, the women he dumped are thinking � �Ah, he treated me like a worthless vessel for his uncontrollable seminal outpourings, but at least now he�s boffed half the anglo-hispanic speaking world, he�s remembering me fondly and thanking me for making him the person he is today�statistically speaking, especially.� I don�t know why I thought of it, but it really bugs me now I have.

�Pragmatism, not idealism, will not cry in public, less chance of illness��

I�m now the proud owner of a gleaming pair of hardly-used contact lenses. I say hardly used as the optician had to give them a bit of a going over just to get them into my eyes for the first time, in the end, employing a kind of eye-opening vice-like grip not seen since the rehabilitation bit in A Clockwork Orange. Once in, she sent me out to walk around town for a bit, which seemed to be OK, though my eyes were streaming so much I could have easily been involved in all manner of Mr Magoo type incidents involving building sites and girders hanging from cranes, etc. But now I�m quite used to the little bits of plastic gel that cling to my eyelids when I try to get them out and to my fingers when I try to get them in. They make me look younger, I think, and a less physically challenged specimen of a human being, but most of all, my array of soaking solutions makes it tricky for anyone who might be wanting to use removal/storage of contact lenses as an excuse not to be lured back to my flat.

Speaking of rejection, I have a spare first class ticket to accompany me on the sleeper train to Edinburgh, staying for free in a swanky town centre hotel with an expense account to cover as much alcohol as you can bathe in. Are there any takers? Are there bogroll! What�s wrong with people? If anyone wants to meet me at Euston train station on Thursday night, you�re in.

�A pig, in a cage, on antibiotics��

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