COCK UP!

Or, for those of you who remember this famous scene from Thin Blue Line with Mr Bean...
"Your cock-up... my arse!"
THAT provided years of ever increasing levels of mirth in my post adolescence. What am I talking about!? It still does! Probably speaks volumes about my post adolescence as well...

So here we sit on a wonderfully balmy afternoon snuggled in the sweaty bosom of the Mother City, now thankfully almost entirely foreigner-free. School has started again, so with any luck the hordes of screaming, shrieking neighbourhood round-headed house pets will be more tired out in the afternoons and not so inclined to inflict high-pitched auraloscopies on me when I get home from work and want a bit of peace and quiet. I mean, they can be heard OVER the Machine Head that usually accompanies my cold beer as I put my feet up in the lounge. For pity's sake!

Have I ever told you about how much I loathe and downright detest musicals? I was reminded recently of this fact when a good friend of mine, Miss Cool, stated the same thing on Faeceboobs. And remarked - rather insightfully - how ironic is was (take notes, Alanis) that musicals are generally hated by musicians and lovers of music. Well, for what it's worth, I can't think of anything worse than an ensemble cast, or even just a lonely warbler, singing EVERY FUCKING WORD of a three hour movie. I give you Les Miserables - very popular at the moment. It's an engaging tale of poor people singing about their misfortune for hours on end. Kind of reminds me of  De Doorns...
I sincerely hope that these strikes bear some fruit and that the workers get a bit more out of the deal. I equally hope that this industrial action doesn't force the inevitable closure of some farms and businesses, thereby removing employment altogether. It's just happened to AngloPlatinum. What a pity (read horrifying crying shame) it is that the custodians of these poor, downtrodden masses, the useless fucking Union Representatives, do not explain the long term repercussions to the very people whose needs they are employed to care for. I REALLY should stop watching the news.

Dinner with The Tart was a roaring success last night. And I do mean ROARING. An evening - or any part of the day in fact - spent in the company of the delightful Tarty Farty Tequila Party is guaranteed to leave you  uplifted and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She has what's referred to as a "perma-chuckle". A guffaw is never far from bursting forth loudly and heartily from her lips. It's awesome. The food was good as well. And all the stories from Beitbridge to Botswana. Fascinating stuff. I'm sure you'll all read all about it soon enough in her blog. You know, the one in which she still owes us a "list of qualities a woman looks for in a man"...

I wonder if we'll ever see that...

NGDG: Sometimes your neighbour is having a raucous party and you want to complain. Sometimes they're blaring Rod Stewart and you want to ask if you can join in.

Spread The Love. Just Not Like On The Thin Blue Line.