Big Bags...

I've got these bags under my eyes that don't seem to want to go away. I initially noticed that they would appear the morning after a late or heavy night, but gradually the puffiness would subside by lunchtime - then one day I realised that the bags were here to stay.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not talking about big 'suitcase' type bags, just little 'clutch' bags. Virginnia told me not to get too concerned. 'It's just your old man face.....you are getting on a bit' - I'm not sure if she was trying to reassure me or scare the hell out of me! But now I'm a little concerned.

I heard that that hemorrhoid cream will help - yes, that's right, I initially took offence to the suggestion, but apparantly there is some merit to the treatment. I am reliably informed that it is the preferred skin regime of supermodels.

I'm sure there must be a tube somewhere in the house - there isn't any risk of double-dipping? Is there?

Bollards to you!

When I lived in Australia I would commute to work in a car. Isolated and insulated from the general population, my view of the world was filtered by what I heard on the radio. Here in England I travel predominently by train.....and what an education it is!

This evening I sat next to a bollard (phallic device used to prevent vehicles from mounting the kerb) salesman. He was a rather conservative gentleman who quietly worked on his crossword - until his telephone rang and his purpose for living was fulfilled....he immediately turned into Bollard Man. A man with such intimate and deep knowledge of bollards that I could not understand the need for such information. Yes, what differentiated this man from his fellow passengers was his immense knowledge of traffic control devices.

I listened intently to his conversation, until my eyes glazed over and I nodded off...

Pump action or aerosol?

I read somewhere today that authorities are thinking about spraying the underground with dissinfectent to try and minimise the spread of flu germs this winter. The plan is to spray all the seats and handles on the tube and in the tube stations. I read on....looking for the punch line, but apparantly they are serious.

I hope it's not similar to what they do on the flights into Australia, where they spray you down with a can of Mortein (fly spray). 'No need to panic - we're just spraying you dirty bastards before you get off the plane. We don't want any filthy parasites entering Australia - or insects on your clothes'.

Imagine the public panic if someone walked through the tube spraying passengers down (yes, I know. Highly unlikely during peak-hour. Let's face it, you can barely squeeze onto the tube). perhaps a deodorant would be more effective...or just some air...

Frosty the Snowman...

Judging by all the sullen expressions of my fellow travellers on the 7:48am to London Bridge, the joy of summer is fading fast. As the leaves turn brown and the rain continues to fall, the mood of my fellow travellers turns an even darker shade of grey.

There were less tourists on the tube today - most of them must have gone home. At Liverpool Street only grumpy businessmen file silently through the turnstiles and even the busker at the bottom of the escalator seems meloncholy.

Everytime I smile to myself I attract the glances of the woman sitting opposite me. She looks at me as if I'm slightly unhinged....what on earth is there to be happy about? It's going to be winter soon and it's going to snow - I can't wait.

Browner than a pair of rodeo rider's y-fronts...

Is there a hosepipe ban still enforced for southern England? My lawn is too wet to water anyway, but I wouldn't mind giving the car a wash....if only it would stop raining.

Still I can't complain. I read in the Sydney Morning Herald that there are still water restrictions in place for most of New South Wales and that they've recently placed a ban on open fires - can't be long before the authorities ask people to stop breathing as well.

Tony Blair just told delegates at conference in Finland that we have only fifteen years to do something about climate changes....no not buy a new pair of board shorts....something more significant than that! Apparantly, experts estimate that rising global temperatures will turn southern Australia browner than a pair of rodeo rider's y-fronts.

The news is much worse for England. Apparantly it's on a deadly path to becoming a tropical paradise. If that statement was designed to shock the UK into action, it's failed....it's hardly a deterrant, is it? If the experts wanted us to sit up and pay attention, they should have told us that unless we did something about climate changes absolutely nothing at all would change in southern England...

It's my age, not my IQ...

Over-qualified? Surely there must be a mistake?...are you sure? Nuutinen, yes that's right. I'm from Australia - colonies. Yes...kangaroos, Kylie Minogue and the Crocodile Hunter. But weren't you after an experienced Publisher with a proven B2B track-record? Oh, not that much experience....

Probably the best response that I've had to a job application is: 'We were very impressed with your credentials and track record, and while we have no doubt in your ability to succeed in this role, we have decided not to offer you the job'. We'd rather give it to someone that has no idea.

What went wrong? I can't remember acting like a dickhead at the interview. I don't recall talking in tongues, or having a turets episode. My wife thinks I may have spent too much time talking about myself (it's a bloody job interview!).

Anyway, I'll never know. My request for some honest and constructive feedback was met with 'this decision in no way reflects upon your skills, experience or the interview' followed by claus 9 of the anti-discrimination act.

Obviously, I don't need to dumb down my resume to look stupid...

Mind The Gap

I'm back on the tube, riding the London Underground, during peakhour again. I'm attending a series of second and final interviews in the city so I get to pretend that I'm going to a real job. Despite signal failures, security alerts and the occasional suicide attempt I still manage to get to my final destination - eventually.

The surge onto an already dangerously overcrowded platform at Victoria Station is frightening. The gentle breeze, which drifts through the underground network, turns into a gale as the tube train arrives with such suddeness that it startles the uninitiated.

Getting to the platform is much easier than getting off it and onto the train. When I was much younger and less inhibited I would throw myself into the ruck. Clinging grimly to anything or anyone solid enough to support my weight, I would squeeze myself into the train carriage, just as the doors slammed shut....and spend the next 6 stops with my face either pressed firmly against the glass doors or cowering under the smelly armpit of a fellow traveller. Nothing has changed - apart from my motivation.

Getting off the tube can even be far more difficult than getting on. Wedged firmly, mid-carriage, and faced with an over-crowded platform at Oxford Circus is like entering a moshpit during the second encore of a thrash metal concert. As the train shudders to a halt and the doors fling open, we spew out onto the platform and climb the stairs into grey daylight....and an even bigger crowd of tourists and shoppers in one of the busiest cities in the world.

It's not a rooster - it's a feather duster!

What part of the chicken am I eating? I think nuggets/dippers/sticks and other assorted generic descriptions for 'arse-end of chicken' are bite size because the makers don't want you to slice them open with a knife and have a close look at the contents.

Yes, I know it's 100% chicken, but it's probably 99.8% of the chicken I'm least likely to purchase if given the choice. Some of these 'I can't believe it's really chicken' products don't even taste like chicken. In fact, you don't really need to chew them - they just fall apart and disolve in your mouth.

It won't be long before we're sucking our sunday roast through a straw...

Onya Dono...

Goodness me....Jason Donovan is headlining with Culture Club at a Butlins Adult Retreat in Bognor Regis (yes, I too had to read it twice). Billed as a 'Skool Reunion' the promotional material informs me that I can get trousered on cheap wine spritzers with a bunch of wankers for as little as £79

No doubt Jason will draw a reasonable crowd. They love 80's retro at the moment...and no one is more cringe 80's retro than our Jason (apart from Bros). I looked through the 'star acts' section of the Butlins web site to see if they had secured anyone else of such gravitas....but I didn't recognise any of them.

There are so many puns to choose from...

It's Conker season in England. The bloody things are falling from Chestnut trees everywhere - so much so, that I've resorted to driving through the countryside with the sunroof closed.

In Autumn, schools all around England echo to the sounds of nuts smacking together. In fact, later this month the World Conker Championships will be held in Northhamptonshire...where the winner will receive a novelty hat and the admiration of a crowd that really should find something better to do with their time.

Conkers dates back to 1848 when the first recorded game occured on the Isle of Wight. Oddly enough it took over two hundred years after the Horse Chestnut tree was introduced into England for someone to come up with the concept of Conkers....he must have been very bored that weekend.