Saturday, December 01, 2007


Made the brave move of mixing with some crowds Christmas shopping. We didn't mingle for long. My, they're a miserable bunch, these 21st century shoppers, and they don't appear capable of seeing that the baby carrier you're lugging around actually contains a baby. Here's a tip: if you really hate shopping so much that you must push your way past everything even when it's not strictly necessary, and you must do it all with a downturned mouth, why not tell your friends and family that, actually, present buying isn't for you and that they'll have to go without? And what is it with these men that disassociate themselves from their partners during the shopping excursion, walking several feet ahead and then just stopping, sighing and breathing heavily, waiting for 'er that should be kept indoors and cookin' tea to catch up, before doing it all again? We were happy to get back to base, and I'm now unwinding by sitting in front of Sky News and eating Tangfastic, sweets every bit as sour as those shopping in Hull today.

Well done Biggins, the new King of the Jungle, who semed genuinely touched that viewers cared enough about him to pick up their phones and vote. Nice bit on the Reuters wire about Biggins' route to victory:

Biggins was given the "bushtucker bonanza" in which he ate a witchetty grub, crocodile's foot, three cockroaches, a kangaroo penis and a kangaroo testicle.

"I'm really a breast man," he joked while eating the penis.

I never had any Evel Knievel toys. But the spoilt kid that lived next door but one had the entire collection and I was allowed to play with them occasionally. The toys were pretty realistic - the stunts never quite went to plan, the little plastic Evel always fell off mid-air and the whole lot usually came crashing down to the floor with a few bits scattering in different directions. The real thing always struck me as a bit of a bumbling fool, mainly due to one of the most enduring memories of my childhood, which was sitting in front of the old Redifusion telly in 1975 watching EK jump 13 double-decker buses at the old Wembley and landing pretty miserably, breaking his pelvis in the process befored telling the crowd that he would be retiring (he would be, but six years and a few more broken bones later). So he's now riding on the big motorcyle in the sky and I'm expecting him to land awkwardly any second. RIP you crazy loon.


Anonymous said...

It was 16 buses. Give Evil his due.


Anonymous said...