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Oct. 30th, 2006
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Oct. 30th, 2006 01:15 pmOn the weekend I was travelling Paignton-Exeter but I could have been anywhere in the country, as local trains on a Saturday night are all the same: crammed full of excitable local youth off for a night out. The girls especially seem to be uniformly over-loud and under-dressed; I can gauge my mood at the time by which of the two I notice more.
I got to Exeter early so could have boarded the London train an hour earlier than I was booked; in fact I did, only to find it full and getting fuller of Wimbledon fans whose stated intention was to “sing all the FUCKIN’ way ‘ome”—also featuring air-horns. Gingerly I alighted again, sidestepping the onslaught of drunken, yelling clichés. A rather timid lady told me she had a seat booked right in the middle of the maelstrom. I suggested she wait for an hour and get a less deafening train, but she was worried she wouldn’t get a seat. The service an hour later was about a third empty and unreserved. I hope she didn’t have too pisspoor a time.
At the ticket barrier at Charing Cross tube at about eleven last night, a youngish couple were asking if northbound Bakerloo trains were still running. “No. No more tonight,” said the Underground employee. They looked crestfallen, and started to discuss what they could do instead to get home. “Nah,” he interrupted. “I’m only joking. Last one’s about 11.40.” They didn’t appear to find this amusing.
I got to Exeter early so could have boarded the London train an hour earlier than I was booked; in fact I did, only to find it full and getting fuller of Wimbledon fans whose stated intention was to “sing all the FUCKIN’ way ‘ome”—also featuring air-horns. Gingerly I alighted again, sidestepping the onslaught of drunken, yelling clichés. A rather timid lady told me she had a seat booked right in the middle of the maelstrom. I suggested she wait for an hour and get a less deafening train, but she was worried she wouldn’t get a seat. The service an hour later was about a third empty and unreserved. I hope she didn’t have too pisspoor a time. At the ticket barrier at Charing Cross tube at about eleven last night, a youngish couple were asking if northbound Bakerloo trains were still running. “No. No more tonight,” said the Underground employee. They looked crestfallen, and started to discuss what they could do instead to get home. “Nah,” he interrupted. “I’m only joking. Last one’s about 11.40.” They didn’t appear to find this amusing.
A present from Norway
Oct. 30th, 2006 01:44 pm
They’re ice pops, and their name comes from the word pimpe, meaning “to sip”. But tell that to this mack daddy penguin and his polar bear protégé. Or possibly it's the other way round. Either way, I suspect it's not the effect that was intended by the designers.
(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2006 03:04 pm
About a month ago I had News 24 on in the background when I heard James Landale, their chief political correspondent, say, “Jon Cruddas joins the ever-increasing set of horses who are throwing in their hats for the race to become deputy leader of the Labour Party”. This seemed excessively silly even for live TV, so I sent it in to Private Eye, who duly published it and sent me a tenner. The day after it came out I passed James Landale in the ‘Aye’ lobby. I thought, “Technically, I probably owe you a drink for that”. But I didn’t buy him one.
(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2006 04:08 pmBeautifully, the Catholic archbishop of Liverpool is Archbishop Warlock.