One of the things, as a vegetarian, that pisses me off is that television, like supermarkets, seem to think that all vegetarians are freaks and therefore deserve no special attention.
In supermarkets, vegetarian sections are ghettoised to the point where they might as well have a big neon sign over the section saying 'Freaks Eat Here'. Television has this grudging sort of acknowledgement that vegetarians exist, but also seem to think that most vegetarians eat fish. Which, of course, is a vegetable. I mean, I've often picked fish off of trees or dug them up from underground. In fact, next year, I'm going to purchase some haddock and monk-fish seeds and grow them in my garden... Twats...
The fact there are a lot of veggies in the country and all over the world would sort of make having a TV programme about veggie food as kind of pre-requisite; but no. With the exception of the very talented Simon Rimmer most 'top chefs' regard people like the wife and I as odd hippy nutters who munch on seeds and forage for fallen fruit. Therefore I can only conclude that most top chefs are twats and that I'd like to eat lots of roughage and then take a really stinky shit on their collective heads. It wouldn't change the way they feel, but I'd get a lot of laughs out of it!
Illiteracy is not laziness. I suffer from laziness. I rarely edit my own work and normally only after Hollis or Trenwith have berated me for it. I got a visit from my gorgeous nieces on Friday. One of them is a stickler for correct grammar, while the other is as thick as horse shit; but both of them have friends who seem to have forgotten anything they might have learnt at school.
I'd like to start a pedants* campaign where by everyone who understands the first laws of the English language pulls up their ignoramus friends and shows them how to do it properly.
*for the benefit of all of those ignoramuses, a pedant isn't someone who fiddles with kiddies...
I'd just like to emphasise to music lovers who haven't yet discovered how brilliant Porcupine Tree are that they really should.
So the Red Shite have been bought out. Those thoroughly unlovable scousers can wave goodbye to the Yanks who destroyed their club and welcome a bunch of... Yanks (who, we can all hope, will continue to ruin this once proud club).
The thing is, I used to have a grudging respect for Liverpool. During the 70s and 80s, they were the 2nd team for many football fans. Representing England in the old (and much missed) European Cup and cementing a place for themselves as a likable club (unless you supported Everton or Man U) who the public wished well...
Currently Liverpool sit 3rd from bottom and in a relegation place. I'd seriously consider selling my soul to see this team get relegated and lose all of its star players. In fact, it has become so much of a desire on my part, its almost as obsessive as Shite fans belief in their own team. I'm praying to any deity that exists that Everton stuff them on Sunday and that the John W. Henry the new owner asset strips the club even more than Waldorf and Stadler. I hate them more now than I've ever hated Manchester United, Chelsea, Leeds or even Arsenal. I have a grudging respect for Roy Hodgson, but I'd like to see him destroy this club and have them playing Sheffield Wednesday in League One by the time I'm 50.
I'd also like to shag a 25 year old Felicity Kendal and that, sadly, isn't going to happen either.
I'll be having my second ever MRI scan on November 9. Which is nice.
Can I recommend Whites, the new Alan Davies comedy on BBC2. It is possibly the funniest TV show on at the moment and is quite surreal, yet almost totally realistic. I missed half of the 3rd episode because I was laughing so much.
"You pay your money and you take your chances" should be the motto of all insurance companies. I swear if we rang them up and said, "I'll pay my premiums when I can be arsed," we'd soon find out that we don't have a leg to stand on. Yet they can take money from us and drag their feet for as long as inhumanly possible.
The wife is still waiting for a resolution from her write off. She phoned the Co-op on Friday, six days after they received all the info they requested and two weeks since the car accident. The imbecile on the phone said, "Can you ring back on Monday as all the assessors go home at 5pm on a Friday." It was 4.50... She said she hoped the car we wanted to buy was still for sale, but she might as well have been talking to a mentally retarded frog.
Come to think of it, at least a retarded frog might have been entertaining...
In case I haven't mentioned this before. I fucking hate my new keyboard!