Freshly Spilled Thoughts

Because maybe
You’re gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You’re my wonderwall

I first heard Wonderwall in an Indian supermarket whilst looking for Guava juice.

I bet you’ve never heard anyone say that before.

The England fans have picked up on it as an anthem for this years World Cup.

It’s a great thing to sing when you’re half pissed anyway, which I think is the true measure of a songs longevity 🙂

“Thank you for this song. Does it go well with lager?”

“Yes, I highly recommend listening to it whilst partaking in one or more pints of Pilsner.”

“Interesting. I would like to doff my hat in gratitude for the beverage-based wisdom you have so kindly imparted.”

One day I may write a blog post about what some songs/albums mean to me, including Anthems For Doomed Youth by The Libertines.

But for now, that’s all she wrote.

I somehow managed to acquire a cold/chest infection.

So far I’ve swam twice with it and I’ve even run with it.

Probably shouldn’t have, but I still did because I’m stubborn.

The running was the worst. There was one point where I felt like I had no air to share with the rest of my body, and there was someone reading a book next to me, so I couldn’t cough away to my hearts content.

I like reading, but I don’t see the point in reading a book when you’re exercising.

I mean, people don’t have sex and then start reading a brochure at the same time, do they.

“Ooh Lanzarote looks nice at this time of year in this catalogue”, she said.

Then again, maybe some people do.

I know someone who used to watch soaps while all this was going on, so anything is possible.

“Just catching up with Eastenders. Don’t mind me”.

I’m at the tail end of it now and starting to feel decidedly human again.

Thank the lord.

England play tonight. They’re up against it but it will be entertaining while it lasts.

I’m not really into football but I love the World Cup. It’s like a tradition to me and it all started in 1986 when I bought a Panini sticker album and filled it up. I was king of the swaps in the playground that year.

Yeah, I guess football does bring the nation together at this level, so it’s all good. We never actually win the thing, but I think it’s supposed to be that way with the elation and disappointment just as we fall at the final hurdle.

It’s a British thing.

There’s always that glimmer of hope though that we can pull it off.

As the actress once said to the bishop.

And the world keeps turning.

The lift insisted this was thirteen.

Playing around with the idea of using AI for short reel comedy…

1st ever attempt:

You know those people that annoyingly waltz around going, “I love this weather.”

They need to bring back capital punishment for those people

Just feed them to the alligators

“What’s that you say? You love your face melting off in extreme humidity?”

“Do you also like running over hot coals and forging steel in a foundry for a bit of a laugh?”

“Excuse me while I just pull this lever.”

Good things about the Summer:

* Lighter nights

* Sunshine with a breeze

* Ice cream

* Butterflies

* Things cooling down at the end of the day

* Cold showers

Bad things about the Summer:

* Your face melts off in heatwaves

* Walking to the fridge causes severe dehydration. Some people don’t even make it. Lest we forget.

* People that say they love this weather whilst looking joyous

* Not being able to put a jumper on when it’s cold, so you can get warmer

* Chocolate melting in your hand when you’re waiting at bus stops

I think it was the late Sean Hughes that used to get annoyed by people that were happy first thing in the morning. You know, the types that get out of bed, do a star jump and say, “Let’s slay the day, you absolute star”, whilst looking in the mirror at their own reflection. It works in America, but not in the UK :).

He said something along the lines of: “Nobody should be happy before they’ve even had breakfast. When you wake up you’re supposed to be miserable, what is wrong with these people? Why don’t they know this?”

We should be able to turn down the dial on the sun, in the same way you can do so with an oven. I don’t know why nobody has invented this yet.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ve just turned down the Sun to Gas Mark 4 and we’re all going to have a lovely evening.”

“Fabulous. I’ve just squeezed the lemons for the lemonade.”

Someone then has to do a cartwheel to be as carefree as you can be on a Summers day. Fin.

The other day I was out eating things that looked like food…

…I’ve never had my mind expanded into the realms of brisket before.

I can’t say I’ve ever looked up brisket in the dictionary either.

It was recommended to me as the culinary equivalent of the second coming of Jesus.

Well, maybe not quite that good, but you get the picture.

I ordered brisket and waited.

The brisket arrived.

It was on a serving board.

So far, so good.

It tasted okay, but it’s the texture I had issues with.

I found myself looking at supposedly lesser rump steak with a degree of envy.

Rump steak may not be an A lister, but it’s dependable and you know what you’re getting.

Unless of course it goes rogue and slaps Chris Rock at an awards ceremony.

On cuts of beef they refer to the fat as marbling (tres posh).

Call it what you like, it’s still fat… and it tastes like it too.

I tried my best to ignore the facts and focus on the flavour.

Nope… it’s not for me.

I’ve been like this since I was a kid. If I see fat, then it’s got to go.

If it’s hidden and it doesn’t taste like fat, then it can stay.

It’s a simple rule I’ve always followed, but on this occasion I ignored my hard won wisdom (lol).

I’ll never have brisket again. Thankfully it had chips, coleslaw and pickles with it to offset the marbling.

The only marbles people should fall in love with are those of the Elgin variety.

I washed away the marbling with Driftaway IPA… which was fruity and pleasant.

Fruity and pleasant things are decidedly good. Just ask Vicky the Viking.

I would walk away from the altar if brisket rocked up wearing a wedding veil, I can tell you that much.

The disappointment of brisket has forced me to come up with a plan.

If I have never tried something before, I won’t order it.

I’ll just try the thing that arrives on the other person’s plate.

It’s so common sense, I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before.

“Try this lemon stud muffin, you’ll love it” (I don’t know if stud muffins are a thing outside of sexy slang btw)

Really I should insert a normal foodstuff here, as the previous sentence makes no sense in foodie terms…

“Try this pecan pie, you’ll love it and if you down it in one I’ll even put you in the Guinness book of records”

“Dont mind if I do. Yes, I like it. Next time I’ll order that”

*crowd roars*

At this point you just doff your cap.

You see how simple that is.

Never again will I fall for the lure of brisket with its fancy wording that crosses the threshold into two syllables.

Variety may be the spice of life, but it’s prudent to sample the goods first so you don’t have to wash away the disappointment with Driftaway IPA.

Repeat the mantra.

Never risk it for a brisket.

My aunt used to have an old Nissan Micra she called “Red Rum”.

That’s mainly because she likes horses and the car was red.

I suppose because she had one for so long, I’ve always noticed them. I wouldn’t have one, I just notice them.

In the same way you notice someone wearing the same dress when you’re out.

Not that I wear a dress.

Back to the old Micra’s…

Driving one feels like driving a tin of peaches with wheels on it, in that you don’t so much drive it as experience it.

They are TEENY things on today’s roads. The sort of thing a Land Rover Defender would just squash without noticing.

My aunt had to get rid of hers after 23 years and this was a sorrowful event for her.

She hasn’t spoken about it since.

The other day, as I was traversing across the supermarket car park on foot, I commented on one that was parked up.

More, thinking out aloud than actually trying to articulate anything.

Thought no more of it and went to my car.

“Excuse me”, the voice bellowed in a friendly way.

It was a man with his hands in his pockets.

“I noticed you were looking at the Micra”

“Don’t worry mate, I wasn’t going to nick it”.

“No… it’s just. Well, it IS for sale.”

Somehow I had attracted a used Nissan car salesman. He was so friendly though, I carried on chatting to him and his partner.

He was getting rid of it to take up something he called “Van Life”

I don’t really know what van life is, but I assume it going around in a campervan to various places in your free time.

At least I hope it’s that.

In my head, they had a YouTube channel and must be monetising this lifestyle choice. That’s how my mind works.

I asked them if they were on YouTube.

They weren’t.

He wanted £1500 for it. Seems like a lot for an old Micra, but some of the old cars are going for silly money now.

At one time you could buy an old car for what it costs to do a quick shop in the supermarket (lol).

I remember years ago seeing a VW Scirocco for £95 on eBay and one of my mates saying, “you can buy a car for less than it costs for a night out on the piss.”

Yes, dear reader. We are highly articulate and evolved in Birmingham. Verily. Verily.

We made it through hump day and landed on (TFI) Friday.

Thank the Lord.

Let’s give ourselves a big pat on the back.

The week is now a blur in the rear view mirror.

Amen.

Can’t wait for tomorrow now.

Bots masquerading as real people is very prevalent on social media.

Usually they do this to sell something (subscriptions etc). The OnlyFans ones send impromptu pictures for no apparent reason.

Every now and again I engage with them just to see if they’re getting more advanced.

And they are…

Now they are capable of doing half decent banter, which is worrying.

Not quite my level, but banter all the same.

It’s no joke when a bot is more entertaining than 75% of the people online.

There was a time when AI was terrible at comedy/humour, but it is now at the point
where it at least gets it.

After a while they repeat patterns, but I can see lots of people falling for this…

…eventually we will have a hard time working out what is human online from text/words
alone… and that will be a sad day.

It’s genius leverage using bots to engage with people to shift products and services though.

(the best way I have found to catch them out is to ask them their username handle. They never seem to know it)…

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go
‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again

Fable – I wonder if the people in Leamington Spa nicked this name from Brierley Hill. Sounds suspiciously familiar to me…

Sys_Error.Report_Log: The window didn’t match the records.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?

After doing 75 minutes of training I found myself craving Hula Hoops.

So I think I might be pregnant (just a hunch).

At least it wasn’t gherkins.

Weird what we get cravings for isn’t it…

Hula Hoops
Ice Cream
Stolen Kisses
Reruns of Black Books

I wonder if anyone has ever joined OnlyFans and ended up disappointed and aghast at the distinct lack of Summer cooling electronic appliances on offer.

“They said they had fans but all I see is titillation and rebills. Meanwhile the temperature just keeps rising.”

“Try Amazon Prime. They know what people want and they’re not afraid to deliver it confidently in oversized cardboard boxes.”

“You can also order a blonde wig and have a go yourself if you fancy it.”

“No thanks. I’ll use my intellect and command of the English language, thank you. Samuel Pepys didn’t bury his cheese in vain.”

“Samuel who?”

“Never mind.”

Side Note: Surely they should change the name to OnlyFlaunting

Time is whizzing by lately.

There are not enough hours in the day.

Really they need to add an extra 8 hours each day just so you can fit the game of life in.

When I was a kid the days seemed to last ages.

The Summer holidays lasted even LONGER.

Now you blink and the next day is here.

I bet when you get to 100 a day is really only an hour in real terms. You heard it here first.