Went out today with Green Car man and the Little Chinese fella to Camden Market. Taking a Northern line tube from London Bridge. The weather has been awful all day. This morning it began overcast and if anyone had said to me this is the best it is going to get I would have been pretty disappointed to say the least. It was the best, things got worse afterwards. Darker more depressing and then constant rain, some of it heavy. Half cold. We did our usual walk around the market, I ate a Chinese dish of fried rice and chicken in black bean sauce. It was a little overdone with salt and not much spice. We noted how the same time last year we came here it was poor weather as well. Snow if I recall rightly. It was when I purchased a Russian style hat to wear in the winter. I’m wearing it now indoors, it’s my inspirational hat. Socialist, Russian, Hammer and scythe badge, can’t beat it for a head warmer.
Sparkling Eyes has gone incognito or offline. I know why. It’s the X Factor. Her winter warmer. My torture show, it should really be called the Cringe Factor but there would have been too many character spaces used. It’s particularly watch by teen girl fans and gay men I understand, or is it they are the groups who vote?. If you’re a young male contestant it’s possible to hit both these viewing groups and maximise votes. I would, except I’m no longer young and I was never able to move my hips in a particular way. The boredom factor so high, even Mr Cowell forgets the names of contestants, whilst Danni checks herself out in her powder puff after having a quick snort and wanders if she is quite her sister’s double yet. Nope Danni you just don’t have the Nah Nah Nah.
The big bloomer of the week has been Jonathon Dross and Russell Bland. Going on radio and making a typical pubescent juvenile phone call to the respected Manuel from Faulty Towers. Manuel is now 73 years old. I wonder how he felt when he replayed his answer phone to find these brainless overpaid plumb in mouth tossers sounding off. Especially the rather intimate news one had laid his grand-daughter. I heard part of their apology on the radio. It wasn’t an apology at all. More like a little brat boy pretending to be sorry but not really caring what he did. I’m sure the main culprit is Mr Dross. Bland has done the noble thing, resigned from his post. Dross hasn’t. Perhaps it’s worse because no one I know actually likes Dross. Maybe I know the wrong people. Yep, I really don’t know many juvenile upper class overpaid tossers on six million pounds a year just for the radio slot. So much for my social circle.
Damn legs are killing me after gym yesterday, gut as well. It was the big ball thing. Even though I took an extra long hot bath they still refuse to be normal and ache. So goes the process of old age, someone shoot me. Maybe in the morning they will be better. I’ll be able to walk down the stairs without an internal yelp. Perhaps I’ll have a renewed hip movement and toned up vocal cords. Then I could go on the Cringe Factor. No, maybe not because it would be something to wince at while passing the puke bucket.
Sparkling Eyes has gone incognito or offline. I know why. It’s the X Factor. Her winter warmer. My torture show, it should really be called the Cringe Factor but there would have been too many character spaces used. It’s particularly watch by teen girl fans and gay men I understand, or is it they are the groups who vote?. If you’re a young male contestant it’s possible to hit both these viewing groups and maximise votes. I would, except I’m no longer young and I was never able to move my hips in a particular way. The boredom factor so high, even Mr Cowell forgets the names of contestants, whilst Danni checks herself out in her powder puff after having a quick snort and wanders if she is quite her sister’s double yet. Nope Danni you just don’t have the Nah Nah Nah.
The big bloomer of the week has been Jonathon Dross and Russell Bland. Going on radio and making a typical pubescent juvenile phone call to the respected Manuel from Faulty Towers. Manuel is now 73 years old. I wonder how he felt when he replayed his answer phone to find these brainless overpaid plumb in mouth tossers sounding off. Especially the rather intimate news one had laid his grand-daughter. I heard part of their apology on the radio. It wasn’t an apology at all. More like a little brat boy pretending to be sorry but not really caring what he did. I’m sure the main culprit is Mr Dross. Bland has done the noble thing, resigned from his post. Dross hasn’t. Perhaps it’s worse because no one I know actually likes Dross. Maybe I know the wrong people. Yep, I really don’t know many juvenile upper class overpaid tossers on six million pounds a year just for the radio slot. So much for my social circle.
Damn legs are killing me after gym yesterday, gut as well. It was the big ball thing. Even though I took an extra long hot bath they still refuse to be normal and ache. So goes the process of old age, someone shoot me. Maybe in the morning they will be better. I’ll be able to walk down the stairs without an internal yelp. Perhaps I’ll have a renewed hip movement and toned up vocal cords. Then I could go on the Cringe Factor. No, maybe not because it would be something to wince at while passing the puke bucket.
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