"Right, off to Brighton tomorrow with S&F. What do I need to take with me?"

"Sun cream?"

"Are you nuts! this is England! your "swarthy" complexion will provide you with enough protection from the sun. It's the rain and wind you wanna worry about."

"Camera?"

"Of course, just in case you see anything photogenic"

"Bucket and spade?"

"Oh do grow up! Sarah is not coming with us and you do look such a tit building sandcastles on your own when your 44"

"lots of 2p bits so we can go on those roll a 2p bit machines on the pier"

"Are you having a laugh! there is culture to be had and byways to wander! you can go in the pavillion, OK - it may be a disgusting shade of bad stomache bug after effect green, but in side it is very pretty. OK over the top. Well OK, it looks like the inside of a tarts handbag but it is "pretty" in an over the top way"

"Shorts"

"FUCK OFF! you are not scaring the residents of Brighton with your hairy Gorilla fur legs! and see above - its not going to be shorts wearing weather."

"Sunglasses? probably not after your last comment"

"Oh no, you can never look too cool. You in fact could try starting"

"Llwnt!"

"Takes one to know one"

I am sat here at my desk working like a mad whirling working thing (ahem) wearing a rather old black t-shirt. Emblazoned across the chest in big orange Day-Glo letters is the word

“INCREDIBLE” and the little logo of Pop will Eat Itself. Down back on the right hand side there is a similarly bright column of “glyphs” that look like they would be at home trampled into a cornfield and viewed from a balloon.

I got the t-shirt at a gig years ago in the Marquee in the Charing Cross Road, after watching said band. The main memory of this rather fun night was the seating arrangements that had to be made for one of the lead singers (Kurt or the other one) as he had broken his leg below the knee.

So they had a seat attached to an extension from the lighting rig, which was about 10ft above the stage and extended out over the front row. He sat in it all night with his plastered leg sticking out, radio mike in one hand and megaphone in the other (for the shouting bits down the mic) and shook his little mop headed bonce and sang or “rapped” his parts all through the gig.

Dedication is what you need obviously. Great gig as well.

No not the luscious and weird swirly paint scheme available on some USA custom guitars, but actual water – burning.

It seems that some mad boffin type Professor Frink character has come up with a way to make water combust. Basically he bombards it high frequency radio waves until the Hydrogen and Oxygen in the water separate and are turned into gas, which you can then burn providing the gas is in the field of the radio waves.

Eh?

Cheap fuel? And more importantly, green fuel – as the waste product from burning this gas is basically water! So you can burn it again!

Of course if this is true the energy corporations will have him shot and his work made to disappear.

But I read it in the paper this morning, so it must be true.

Walking to the station from work last night, I heard a female voice behind me say
“Excuse me! Excuse me please!”

I turned round and there behind me was a young lady on a bicycle trying to get past me and the other commuters trudging along City Road. Trudging along the Pavement of City Road.

I made “a face” at her and gestured at the big expanse of tarmac next to us, commonly know as “the road” and ignored her. What I really felt like saying was “Get in the fucking road you ignorant bitch!”

But she was pretty. So I didn’t. I have such strong convictions no?

I also seem to remember that at some point during the past weeks there was talk on the news about having a day when cars are banned from central London and only bikes allowed.

If this should happen I am going to go to work with a Baseball Bat, so I can beat a path through all the bloody inconsiderate bastard cyclists riding on every available flat surface and tutting at the pedestrians.

Hmmm. How much does it cost to run for Mayor?