Halloween?
Psh, come now, you heathens, no!

Silly billies, today is the day we celebrate the birthday of two giants of modern entertainment;

David Landon and David Ogden Stiers.

Look! They’re both called David! What are the chances of that?

Oh, the happy memories I think we all have of Oh, hang on, it’s not David Landon. It’s Michael Landon. I don’t think there’s anyone famous called David Landon. I was thinking of the other… anyway, no matter, the point still stands.
Apart from the point about them both being called David, that one doesn’t.

Oh, the happy memories we all have of Micheal Landon tripping down a hill at the beginning of Little House on the Prairie, dimples in his cheeks, hair flowing out behind him, and what about that great, if slightly cod and perhaps a little moralistic series, written by Michael, Directed by Michael, Produced by Michael and Starring Michael; Highway to Heaven, where every week, Michael, who was God or something, would help out an old lady about to take drugs and have pre-marital sex, or a teenager in danger of having the family farm repossessed.

Oh, Michael, how you informed our youth.

And David Ogden Stiers! Charles Winchester from M*A*S*H!
Who can forget his posh accent and his baldy head!
Who can forget the scrapes they used to get into, even though he was a pale substitution for Frank Burns?
Who can forget that episode where something funny happened and he…?!
Oooh hoo hoo hoo hoo, hee hee hee hee hee.
We laughed until a little bit of wee came out.

Oh, David, how you informed our opinion of baldy men called David.

So Happy birthday Michael, David. And thank you. Thank you for everything.

Oh, and it’s also bobbie johnson’s birthday today. He’s alright too.

1. Have ill boyfriend.
2. Make fun of ill boyfriend.
3. Become equally as ill as boyfriend.

Wouldn’t you fucking well know it. One minute I’m making fun of the lump, the next minute I am the lump.

One minute you’re wondering how one grown-up person can make so many variations on whinging noises, the next you discover that you’re incapable of making anything but whinging noises;

“meh meh meh meh meh”

“What’s that you say girl? Lemsip?”

“Meeeeeeeeeh!”

So after 24 hours of whinging, twinging, figiting, squirming, and small bleating noises, I have risen again. But let this be a lesson to us all. Lump not, lest we be lumpy. Do not throw lemsip at lumps in lumpy duvets, or not in packets, anyway, it hurty

Anyway. I was looked after. And am betterer. Yay.

And, after four whole weeks of living here, I can finally state for sure that I have developed a truly complex (yet affirming) mutually supportive and mutually beneficial relationship with our toilet.

I’m quite good chums with the bidet too.

Because sometimes, that’s what it takes to truly feel settled in somewhere.

As my friend Michelle would say, sage-like as she always was;

“Where is home? Home is where you poo”

And I’ve often thought of embroidering that onto a tapestry, but for the fact that I wouldn’t know where to stick it when it was done.
Which wall, I mean.

Well, that will have lost me another couple of readers, no one wants to come here and talk about bums, after all.

How are you? Have you paid a visit today Stan?

The good thing about having a poorly lump in the room (see previous post) about is that it provides conversational sustenance while you’re sitting about being unemployed and worrying a bit.

Today we were talking about 6 year olds and jokes, and the practical idea of when the concept of ‘funny’ becomes available to the human mind.

I mean, for a two-year-old, the ‘putting hands in front of the face and then taking them away’ thing is “funny”, and at some point it becomes “not funny”. Granted, if the hands are covered in something surprising, like paint, ketchup or poo, and residue is left on the handee’s face without the handee’s knowledge, then yes, this is still funny.

But that’s a far more sophisticated form of humour altogether.

But a six or seven year old has grasped the concept that there’s something about the question and answer format that makes grown-ups laugh, so at first they try and repeat something they’ve read in a comic, or heard a friend or family person say;

Darling lump; I don’t know, what time is it if twenty dogs are chasing one dog?
Little person; Twenty after one!
D.L; yes. Do you know what that means?
Little person Nods vigorously
D.L; I thought you couldn’t tell the time yet. Can you?
Little person shakes head vigorously
D.L.; So have you ever said ‘twenty after one’?
Little person nods beaming
D.L; *Really*?
Little person shakes head slowly
D.L.; So what would I mean if I said it was twenty after one?
little person; There are twenty dogs running after one dog!
D.L; Yes, little person. Is a very good joke.

Little person (spurred on); What is the best time for a sheepdog to enter your house?
D.L; I really don’t know.
Little person; When the door’s open!

It’s the simple ‘well, if a joke consists of a question + answer, then a question + answer = joke’ logic than defeats most pre-pubescent comedians.

I was reminded of a kid I watched doing a turn in a holiday cabaret, who, having a couple of learnt jokes turn out well, and I think I’ve written about this before, decided to start riffing on his theme…

“Why did the other chicken cross the road?”

“We don’t know!” The audience chorused.
“To go to the park!”

Audience smiled politely,
his family laughed their heads off to encourage little Jimmy…
Little Jimmy was encouraged….

“Why did the worm cross the road?”

“erm. We Don’t know” The audience mumbled (in chorus)

“Because he wanted to buy a camera!”

That time not even the family laughed.
In fact, stupidly, and quite embarrassingly, I was one of the only people really laughing in the room.

It was clear that ‘to buy a new camera’ was the reason given when the boy actually last had to cross the road, and so the ‘question+answer=joke” thing became incredibly apparent and was, essentially, really very very very sweet.

There was me, and a couple of other people.

And the only person laughing harder than us was little Jimmy himself.

Jokes should always be that funny… Actually…
Fuck everyone else, why should you want to make *them* laugh? It’s you that feels good when you laugh, so surely thats it.
Remember;
Question + Answer = Funny.

D.I.Y jokes. Suddenly everything’s funny.

How do cows smell?

By having poo all over their bums! Also they have noses with normal olfactory functions! And also they have poo on their bums!

Hahahahahahahhahaha

I’m meaning, today, to write about the beautiful wedding I went to this weekend, but to be honest, I keep being distracted by this lump I’ve got.

It’s odd, I mean, it’s not painful, just irritating, and I keep having to attend to it.

It’s in rather an intimate place, and I know I’m not one to talk about things of a deeply personal nature often, and I wouldn’t be so alarmed and talkative about it if it wasn’t such a strange and unusual affliction.

I should probably be more direct, sorry, I just don’t know how to phrase it right.
Let’s put it this way. It’s not the kind of problem that you get when you’re single.

I’ve tried lots of things. Cold flannels, hot water bottles, cream, medicine.
I’ve even tried putting yoghurt on it, but everytime I get near it with a spoonful it starts moaning and grumbliing and asking for Lemsip and Dry Toast instead.

It’s about six foot long, more than that, actually, and a couple of feet wide, and it’s lying in that most intimate of places - bed, and making a noise like this;
‘Grooooo-cough-hack-bleurgh-anna?-canihavea…no, don’t worry, Ifeelsickagain. - bleurgh - oooooo-hugmebutdon’tsqueeze.‘

I think it’s a lovely lump.
I mean, I’m going to see what I can do abut removing it from its current location, but I certainly want to keep it.
If it stops making those noises.

A while of being single. I have to admit that you forget about this.
But I wouldn’t be without it for the world.
Well, kind of.

But I really haven’t the time, I’m too busy going ‘gibber gibber’ and running around in circles.

Why is it some people can cope with pressure and some people panic?

This morning my boy discovered what happens when you have an Anna with too many things to do at the one time.

When you have important computer stuff, going, quickly and irretreivably (I couldn’t spell now if my life depended on it) tits up, when you have an important application form that very much needs filling in today, and - perhaps most importantly, when you’re flying to Cyprus for your brother’s wedding in twelve hours, have to be at work in one hour and haven’t packed yet.

And can’t find your underwear, the clothes you wanted to wear to work today, a shoe and, perhaps most crucially, that passport thing.

He discovered, to his amusement and extreme irratation, that an Anna in this situation *literally* runs around in circles, small circles, staring at the floor, pulling things that have been packed already out again and *everything* out of the washing basket, and neglecting to look in, lets say, the underwear drawer, wardrobe, shoe rack or ‘the place where we keep things like passports’…

And we do all of this while gibbering.
And then we hyperventilate.

Well darling, I say if you can put up with that, you can put up with pretty much anything.

So, packed (tick)
passport (tick)
shod (tick)
fully clothed (tick)
and underworn (tick)
computer stuff still tits up (tick, but there’s fuck all I can do about it today)
excited (tick)
Application form (yes yes, it’s in my bag, they have postboxes at Airports don’t they? Do they? ooooh! Do They?! gibber….)

And now, I think, I should calm down.
Maybe.

There’ll be something else to panic about later, I might as well have a little tiny rest.

Oh hell, did I bring a towel?

Is the word ‘naughty’, you know - is it ‘naughty’?

Or is it just my imagination?

be vewy vewy quiet….

I’m blogging from work…..

Is novelty.

Heeheeheeheeheeheehee.

Haven’t actually got anything to say, mind.

*sigh*

Is it

a) what you know

or

b) who you know?

me (in sleep): Linda Barker’s doing our living room, and she wants to do a chandelier made of dead mice.
I think it’ll smell. What do you think?

him: Shut up.

“Hello, and welcome

“We’d like to start the day with a brief tour. As temps, we know you’ll find the building a little confusing, and you’ll not be here long enough to become really familiar, but we’re hoping that your tour today will orient you completely.

“If you’ll just follow me, we’ll take not this first set of stairs but the second set of stairs, the half set of stairs to the mezzanine floor. It’s important to remember that there’s nothing on the mezzanine floor of any interest whatsoever. There is also no way to get from the mezzanine floor to anywhere else, so if you’ll just follow me, we’ll go back down the half set of stairs the way we came.

“We’ll walk quickly through the main hall here, the exhibits here are all very interesting, and you’ll need to be able to talk about them if anyone asks, which they will, and so you’re quite welcome to stay and have a look at them after you’ve finished training today - you will not, of course, get paid for this.

“Leaving the great hall we enter the second great hall, which contains things of great historical significance.

“Here are the glass lifts, we’ll take them up to the third floor, please bear in mind that you cannot get to the fourth and fifth floors via this lift.

“This is the third floor, there are aeroplanes that way, that’s a simulator, that simulates something. Do encourage people to go on it, it’s great fun, and non-expensive.
No, we can’t go on it.

“That’s a childrens area, the third floor childrens area, it’s on the map, hurry up. We come now to another area, there are some useful lifts over there, but we’re getting in some lifts over this way, take a left through this gallery, right, left, left, right, straight ahead, right and then left, and then right again.
However, there’s a shortcut through this staff only door, you won’t be able to use it though, you haven’t got a key fob.
So if you took that shortcut, which you won’t be able to usually, you’ll find the lifts very easily. Here they are.
We can go up to the fifth floor in these lifts and these lifts alone.

“This is the fifth floor, it’s very very interesting.
These are the stairs, we’re going down them.
This is the third floor, we’ve come out in a different place, do you notice that? Let’s get these other lifts down to the basement.

“This is the basement, it’s great for kids. That’s the kiosk, which shouldn’t be confused with the cafe, coffee bar or restaurant, which are on the first, first and third floors, not in that order.

“Coming up these stairs from the basement, we find ourselves in the new interactive wing, it’s important to note that this wing can be accessed from the Ground and Third floors only, and from no other place. Only from the Ground and Third floors. There are more lifts here, we can get them from the Ground floor to the Third Floor only.

“This is the Third floor, you can enter the new wing from here, and also the older part of the building. If we walk through this area on flight, and down this set of stairs, not the first or second set you pass, but the third, we can find or way down and can leave the stairs on the second or first floor, or indeed, the ground floor, where we are….. now. These stairs do not go to the basement, fourth or fifth floors. Now lets get in these lift, and go to the third floor.

“And now down to the second. this is an important place. Remember this, people will always be asking for it.
If they do ask at the main entrance for this place, tell them to go past the main tills, turn right, through the great hall, past the space section to the glass elevators, walk round the glass elevators three times, kick a small child, walk back through the space section and to the main stairs, up the main stairs to the third floor, from whence they won’t be able to get to the fourth, fifth floor or basement, turn left, swim through the flight section, past the stimulator, fly through the shipping section, and they’ll end up at the glass lifts, they should step into the glass lifts, go down to the basement, and take the first set of stairs they find to the main entrance. From there, they should take the lift directly from the main entrance to the second floor.

“It couldn’t be easier.

“Now you may have noticed, while I’ve been telling you that, we’ve done two more laps of the building, ensuring that, by now, you should be well aquainted with the whole museum and should have no problem at all finding your way around.

So, are there any questions?”

This site can only be reached now through littleredboat.co.uk, so anyone who still has it bookmarked as notsosoft.com/littleredboat, erm, shouldn’t.

‘Tell us how you feel about mouses! How do you feel about mouses? Tell us! Tell us please!’

Well, for a start, the plural is mice, not mouses, but I shant hold that against you, it’s a mistake anyone could make.

So. How do I feel about mouses? Well…

1. I hate them.
2. I hate them
3. Hate them hate them hate them.
4. I’m scared of them.
5. They scare meI hate them.
6. I find them extremely scary
7. I hate them.
8. I hate them, and I find them extremely scary.

To sum up: I’m not all that keen on mouses.

Even the fact that I’m thinking about them makes my insides go wobbly and my outsides go trembly. While writing what I’ve written so far, I have to admit that I’ve lifted my feet from the floor and crossed my legs safely on the chair. Just in case a mouse should turn up and run up my wide leg trousers. It’s either this or cycle clips.

Mouses hate me, I hate mouses, and we scare each other.

More than a year and a half ago, there was a mouse in my kitchen.
I ignored it, more than that, I refused to be on the same floor as it, put down some humane traps, and, rather inhumanely, refused to check them because there might be mice in them.

And I was right. I said it would come back. And it has.

It’s more than twenty months later and over 650 km, 3 buses, two trains, two ferries and an easyjet flight away, but the damned mouse is back. (Even mice can afford Easyjet)

It’s in my kitchen again.

And this time, I can’t leave the house by the top floor.
I’m stuck.
Is this a valid reason for calling in sick to work?

“I can’t go downstairs. I cannot get to the door, I cannot go downstairs. There is, you see, a mice.”

It’s true.
I smoke.

Yes, alright, at the back there…
Yes.
Yes, I know it is.
Yes, yes, I know.
Yes, look, hang on…
That’s not what we’re talking about right now. Sh.

So in Scotland, I discovered the most marvellous things; Zigzag papers, green, preferably. I smoke roll-ups, you see.

And Zigzag are, in so many ways, infinitely superior to Rizla. They have a nicer texture, and more consistent burn to the paper, and most importantly, they have a natural gum that sticks and doesn’t come unstuck.

Unlike Rizla, which come unstuck all the sodding time.

I realise that this is not going to make much sense to many people, but take my word, it’s a passionate issue.

Because in London, which is, (according to the literature I’ve read) the ‘capital’ and ‘a very big’ city, I cannot find the fuckers for love nor money.

That’s a lie. I can find them for money. I can find them at Camden market, where they’re sold from stalls as drug paraphanalia and cost four times the norm. Not fair.

So, my question(s) is (are) this (these); does anyone know of anywhere in london that sells them at a proper price? Just a corner shop? I have a bus pass… I’m willing to travel… Or could someone send me some from the homeland(!?)… Or does anyone know where I can buy them in bulk on the interwebnet?

I realise that most of you will tut and laugh at this, the desperate addict needing their need feeding, but anyone that isn’t tutting and laughing, can you help me?

Please.

Also, anyone backing me up on the difference between smoking papers would be appreciated. I now feel like a tit.