Thursday 05 July 2012

Dizzy (Vic Reeves and The Wonderstuff version) is one of my favourite tunes of all time

My recent dizzy spells have been diminishing and threaten to disappear all together but still linger, like someone at a funeral who only knew the dead person and doesn’t know any of the guests. I haven’t risked doing any exercise while feeling the wooze, but tonight thought I would throw caution to the wind and play football. Happily the weather has been very close, like adult twins who wear matching outfits*, so the gym was very hot and stuffy. In many ways they were perfect conditions for someone to do (fairly) vigorous exercise for about an hour.

Before that I had to get changed. Remember a few weeks ago when that old man was walking about with his widgey out? Well I had something at the other end of the scale tonight**. I was alone in the changing room. It’s not massive but big enough. And I was sat at one end. A bloke came in, 35-40 I’d say. And he walked in the changing room bit and up and down the area with pegs and benches and then back past me into the toilet area. That’s fair enough, I didn’t think (I really wasn’t paying much attention at this stage), sometimes people go for a quick toilet before they change. It was only when I saw a pile of clothes develop on the floor in the toilet (much like many public toilets the door stops about 6 inches above the floor – I think so people don’t take heroin or be gay) that I realised the guy was getting changed in the toilet cubicle.

He must have been one shy bastard not to want to get changed at the other end of a changing room from me. It certainly can’t have been intimidating. No-one looks at a small, fat, ugly man with his shirt off and thinks ‘I can’t get changed near him, he’s too much man’. I imagine it more likely that they think ‘just because she’s ugly doesn’t mean she should get changed in here. And she should wear a bra and have a shave.’  The toilet cubicles are not very big, there is not much room when I go in for a piss. I wouldn’t like to get changed in there. Plus there is piss on the floor – from where people just piss anywhere because they are fucking animals.

You’ll be sad to hear that I passed through the hour of football without collapsing. And any light-headedness was caused by perspiring 9 litres. This imagined condition I have self-projected should really have had some effect on me, imagined or otherwise. To be honest I think I left a few of the opposition gutted when I provided an assist worthy of any footballing legend with an instinctive back-heel pass to set up a goal!!

*getting a bit top heavy on similes this paragraph, if you ask me.
** this is where a lot of people would say exactly the opposite or some variation of the opposite, but it’s not that accurate to say opposite in this situation. Although it is a kind of opposite, or antonym as we linguists would call it – but a shit kind.

Bad journalism

I’m not trying to make light of the story at the heart of this report on the BBC website but isn’t this an odd little way to report quite a serious story?

  • The headline and the story are not in agreement: has the attack prompted patrols or have (existing) patrols been stepped up?
  • why does it end on that weird way of asking people for information? I don’t think all other quotes on the site are verbatum, why quote the police asking for the permission to ask a question that is then asked in a conversational style, it’s just odd phrasing for a printed story. It’s just poor stuff all around, did anyone see anything relating to this attack? That’s what they want to know.
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