ITEM: I am, in case you hadn’t noticed, something of an intellectual. While the rest of you no doubt squeee about Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus, The X-Factor and soaps, only the other night Ms P and I were having a very deep conversation about the Dutch classical musician Andre Rieu.
Ms P: People think he’s just a guy with a violin, but there’s a lot more to him than that.
Me: Yeah, he’s a guy with a violin and an orchestra.
ITEM: Earlier this week I received a spam email with the subject header ‘Are you taking on new clients?’
For a horrible moment there I thought The Imaginary Girlfriend had been pimping me out to her posh friends as an escort.
ITEM: Years ago, somebody who read a number of my stories, told me that she thought I was obsessed with sex and death. Not the truth, or at least not the entire truth, but we digress. At the time I had an idea that it would be a great wheeze to reinvent Henry Miller’s The World of Sex as The Land of Death, and then promptly did no more about it.
Until the other night, when I had a dream in which I had written The Land of Death and it was to be released by Sick Bitch Publishing. I was in a meeting with a fearsome looking lady in a power suit, who assured me that she was a very sick bitch indeed, and I was too frightened to disagree. She stood behind a table and hectored me about what her firm could do for me, while I sat in a chair and tried very hard to disappear.
At this point I wish to state that I am not in any way responsible for what goes on in my subconscious, and I have a crack team of litigators on speed dial should anyone imply otherwise.
ITEM: Somebody on Facebook reported that they’d seen the French film Baise Moi in HMV and it was placed in a spot where its title might be read by children, though it’s hard to think of anywhere in HMV where this wouldn’t be the case if my local store is in any way representative.
It reminded me of the time I lent the video cassette of this film to a friend and we met up at a cafe in Norwich so that he could return it. He’d placed it face up on the table just as the waitress wandered over to take our order. She asked what the title meant, and we both waited patiently for the other to answer.
ITEM: There are bigots in Norfolk, apparently. A few years back in the village where I live a young man fired an air rifle through the window of a flat where two women lived. Depending on which account you believe this was because (a) they were Portuguese (b) they were lesbians or (c) the gun had gone off accidentally, but the kid reckoned his mates would respect him more if they thought he was a bigot instead of simply clumsy.
ITEM: The most popular search term bringing traffic to this blog I am pleased to note is now ‘trumpetville’. Pleased, but puzzled, as I wouldn’t have thought the word had much currency other than as the name of my blog and anyone searching it would already know that.
The older I get the less sense the internet makes, and in my dotage I find myself hankering after the good old days of ‘lucy liu bondage’.
Sentimentality is a terrible thing.