The best laid plans eh? Today was meant to be incredibly productive: I intended to watch football, maybe play Call of Duty and watch some classic Mad Men episodes in preparation for Tuesday; Tuesday is the new series of Mad Men don’t you know? After getting hooked and speeding through all four series via boxsets this will be the first time I watch the show at the same rate as normal everyday people like George Clooney, Amanda DeCadanet and Eddie ‘The Eagle’ Edwards.
I did watch the first episode again last night. It is always odd going back and watching the first episode of a long-running TV programme: there is generally something in the first episode you would have sworn didn’t happen until the ninth year. Some things have changed how I perceived the characters and their actions, like the knowledge of what will happen to them other the next four years. And of course I loved snidey Pete Campbell but this time around I get a bid mad at him for being a dick to his wife, since his wife is played by Alison Brie who I have fallen in love with and married since my initial watch of MM. (I am actually writing this watching series one, episode 9, Shoot: the end of it where Betty Draper shoots the neighbour’s birds with a fag hanging out her mouth: undeniably an amazing and iconic moment in the show’s history, and not just because January Jones is the fucking shi-zeus.)
I did manage to watch football. Only more than I probably would have watched on my own. My friend Dave came round you see. Hence the Sliding Doors-esque ‘what if?’ parallel of a day drinking Strongbow. While I sat opening can after can of cider, talking about football, watching foorball there was the parallel me who hadn’t had Dave popping in and was sat sober, watching Boardwalk Empire.
Later Dave would think we could meet his fiancée if we went for a drink out. So he, my girlfriend and I went out. Only his bloody fiancée didn’t join us. Creating another parallel universe where she did show up. Only to find us all not very good company because we were a bit inebriated. I was certainly not sober. I was soused.
Maybe there is a parallel universe where there is an interesting blog about today (from me).
Political Thought for The Day
I want to ask David Cameron if he would go and fuck himself – could someone lend me a quarter of a million pounds so I can set this up. BOOM. Ian Hislopped you all with that.