Outrage! Outrage! Outrage!!!!1!

Twenty seven thousand people.

Twenty seven thousand people??

Really?

Admittedly, I’m perhaps not the best person to have any perspective on this, but seriously? You’d think that Russell Brand and Jonathon Ross had taken it in turns to dry-rape the Pope while giving Nazi salutes and murdering puppies.

Thank the gods for the Daily Mail, that’s all I can say. Otherwise we would never have known that a man who used to be on the telly agreed to be interviewed on the radio and gave them his phone number and then, presumably, popped out for ten minutes to distribute alms to the poor and cure the sick, and some men, one of whom had shagged his pure, innocent stripper-in-a-group-called-Satanic-Sluts granddaughter, left messages pertaining to this on his answerphone and lots of people heard it go out on the radio and didn’t mind at all and the sweet, kindly grandfather himself didn’t even seem to mind that much but, really, we should all storm the BBC with flaming torches and pitchforks and demand that the heads of the two men who haven’t really done anything much are immediately displayed on pointy sticks in Reception as a warning to all those evil, wicked purveyors of filth whose sole intention is to bring about the downfall of civilisation as we know it via that all-powerful, omniscient medium of Light Entertainment that we will not stand for this.

I’ll leave the last word on the subject to the estimable “Hughes, Coventry” who was so incensed that he had to rush to his computer a full three days after the "story" broke and let the BBC know exactly how much people have been offended:

Where have all the roll models gone. What we need is good old fashioned standards............ Get rid of this sick filth that is invading our lives, take them off the air permentantly

Well done that man. I am confident that you speak for all of us.

*breathes*

UPDATE: Now over thirty thousand people have complained! How will we survive this?!

Six Things

1) We got married. The bride wore black, the groom wore black and pink, the bride's stepmother wore a fixed grimace. Men in wedding dresses played punk music at our wedding reception and the Other Half drank sixteen vodka Red Bulls and didn't sleep for 56 hours straight. It was aces.

2) We went on our honeymoon. It rained. The tent leaked. We'd seen all the bands before and following a hissed conversation (the sort you have when you're in public and can't just yell at each other) I acquiesced to the Other Half's desire to leave a day early. We had to be towed out by a tractor. I didn't have a nervous breakdown on the way home. It was aces.

3) I have dreadlocks again after 12 years without. It's much more complicated this time - there's special shampoos and gels and waxes that mean you can keep them (relatively) clean. This has the disadvantage of making them much more high maintenance but the distinct advantage of meaning I don't smell like a tramp's blanket this time round. Well, my hair doesn't, at least. It is aces.

4) I have travelled extensively for work over the last five weeks and have seen some lovely airports. Odessa stands out as the favourite - you don't get dead dogs on the pavement outside Charles de Gaulle, do you? Travelling is not nearly as glamorous as you might think. Not unless endless corridors and waiting rooms and annoying people and no legroom are your idea of glamour, that is. It was not aces.

5) I had MRI scans on both my knees last week and meet the consultant next week. I am too young for new knees - however I may end up with partial replacements. I do not see the logic of this. I'm going private though, so any future surgery will be without added MRSA. Which is aces.

6) There is no number six.

There. Who says you should have something to say before you open your mouth? I blame Sarah Silverman.

*waves*

Um.

Hello.

So anyway, I went over there to start a new blog but my heart wasn't in it.

I've been travelling for work for the last few weeks and have realised that I spend most of my downtime composing blog posts in my head. So I thought, why not? Why not use my time and my identity to continue bleating at strangers about, you know, how hard everything is?

You lot are all still writing away - all my old friends. Time to jump back in the water.

Oh, and if anyone was thinking of booking a holiday on a cruise ship? Trust me. Don't. The ships are riddled with filthy dirty pensioners who enjoy nothing more than moaning and spreading unpleasant gastric complaints...

Ooh! Here I am!