Two weeks away from the computer, followed by a week ploughing through a fortnight's worth of postings on my favourite blogs. Maybe I should just get a life instead?
If you think things look a bit different here, that's because I've upgraded to Blogger beta. Most of the benefits accrue to me rather than you, dear reader, but I have at least assiduously compiled a subject index for you.
Here's something from Norm which caught my eye: find out which Jane Austen character you are. Well, who else should Mr Grumpy be but Mr Darcy? Honest! OK, I admit I'm irresistible in a wet shirt. But, sorry, girls, the Mistress of Grumberley is already in post. And anyway, would you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone who defines his identity by being a miserable git at parties?
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Monday, October 16, 2006
Friday, August 04, 2006
Feelin' guilty
Autumn 1976: Grumpy arrives at university. His neighbour in his hall of residence owns three records (three more than Grumpy), and two of them are Boston's 'More Than A Feelin'.
Now it can be told: although we didn't strike up a beautiful friendship, I'm eternally grateful to him that it was that rather than 'Anarchy In The UK'. Because it turns out that I'm not alone. Q magazine has compiled a list of 'musical guilty pleasures', being 'songs people love but are too embarrassed to admit to listening to', in which 'More Than A Feelin' only narrowly missed the top spot.
It was beaten by its near contemporary, ELO's 'Livin' Thing'. Since he was 11 at the time, it probably won't embarrass my brother very much if I reveal that 'Out Of The Blue' was his first record. Not half as much it embarrasses me to admit that mine, acquired when I had already reached man's estate, was by Genesis. Well, you see, there was this girl...
Why the embarrassment, anyway? Mainly, of course, because we were all supposed to be into the oeuvres of persons festooned with safety pins and razor blades. But the only punk band that gave me any genuine pleasure was the one that took it least seriously, viz the Ramones. And I don't suppose I'm alone in that, either.
(via)
Now it can be told: although we didn't strike up a beautiful friendship, I'm eternally grateful to him that it was that rather than 'Anarchy In The UK'. Because it turns out that I'm not alone. Q magazine has compiled a list of 'musical guilty pleasures', being 'songs people love but are too embarrassed to admit to listening to', in which 'More Than A Feelin' only narrowly missed the top spot.
It was beaten by its near contemporary, ELO's 'Livin' Thing'. Since he was 11 at the time, it probably won't embarrass my brother very much if I reveal that 'Out Of The Blue' was his first record. Not half as much it embarrasses me to admit that mine, acquired when I had already reached man's estate, was by Genesis. Well, you see, there was this girl...
Why the embarrassment, anyway? Mainly, of course, because we were all supposed to be into the oeuvres of persons festooned with safety pins and razor blades. But the only punk band that gave me any genuine pleasure was the one that took it least seriously, viz the Ramones. And I don't suppose I'm alone in that, either.
(via)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Apologia pro braccis suis
'I have a number of golden rules, such as never trust a man with a beard. Never give the time of day to a man in three-quarter length shorts is right at the top of the list.'
- says Stephen Pollard
Grumpy is not willing to take this lying down...
'Not those trousers, Pollard.'
One of our periodic domestic crises was looming over the horizon. I drew a deep breath and prepared to do battle.
'I beg your pardon, sir?'
'Not those trousers. I want the three-quarter length shorts.'
The garment under advisement was one I had acquired during my stay in Rome. One of those off-whitish numbers that come to an end somewhere midway between knee and ankle, with sundry ingenious pockets around the knee area. Not the kind of thing I go in for as a rule, but quite tolerably natty, and absolutely what the doctor ordered on a day like this, with temparatures giving every promise of creeping up to eighty in the shade.
Nonetheless, I had never been able to hide from myself the fact that that they were not going to go down well with Pollard. I had left him at home, he being keen not to miss Ascot, so he had had the legwear sprung on him when I returned. While unpacking my effects he winced visibly on unearthing said shorts. The trouble with Pollard, as I have said more than once before, is that he is hidebound and reactionary in questions of gents' outfitting. So I was determined to show him a touch of that old Grumpy spirit that won through at Agincourt.
'Pardon me, sir, not the three-quarter length shorts.'
'Why ever not?'
'They are quite unsuitable, sir.'
'Pollard, this time you go too far. I defer to your judgment implicitly over shirts or spats, or even ties. But when it comes to dictating how I may drape my lower limbs, I draw the line. Put out those shorts, Pollard.'
'Very good, sir.'
'And I can't see what you've got against them, anyway. Everyone who's anyone is wearing them on the Corso.'
'The Mediterranean temperament allows itself a latitude which does not become the English gentleman, sir.'
'Perfect rot. And I may say that I've had nothing but admiration for them from the gentler s.'
'I regret to say that ladies' judgment is frequently defective in these matters, sir. They are too readily swayed by affection for the wearer.'
'Stuff and nonsense, Pollard. I am convinced that, given time, you will grow to love them.'
'I fear not, sir.'
'Be that as it may, I wear those shorts, Pollard.'
'Very good, sir.'
'Very good, Pollard.'
Dashed painful, and all that, but it had to be done. I mean, is one to be a mere peon or serf of one's manservant? The thing's too bally absurd. Absolutely!
- says Stephen Pollard
Grumpy is not willing to take this lying down...
'Not those trousers, Pollard.'
One of our periodic domestic crises was looming over the horizon. I drew a deep breath and prepared to do battle.
'I beg your pardon, sir?'
'Not those trousers. I want the three-quarter length shorts.'
The garment under advisement was one I had acquired during my stay in Rome. One of those off-whitish numbers that come to an end somewhere midway between knee and ankle, with sundry ingenious pockets around the knee area. Not the kind of thing I go in for as a rule, but quite tolerably natty, and absolutely what the doctor ordered on a day like this, with temparatures giving every promise of creeping up to eighty in the shade.
Nonetheless, I had never been able to hide from myself the fact that that they were not going to go down well with Pollard. I had left him at home, he being keen not to miss Ascot, so he had had the legwear sprung on him when I returned. While unpacking my effects he winced visibly on unearthing said shorts. The trouble with Pollard, as I have said more than once before, is that he is hidebound and reactionary in questions of gents' outfitting. So I was determined to show him a touch of that old Grumpy spirit that won through at Agincourt.
'Pardon me, sir, not the three-quarter length shorts.'
'Why ever not?'
'They are quite unsuitable, sir.'
'Pollard, this time you go too far. I defer to your judgment implicitly over shirts or spats, or even ties. But when it comes to dictating how I may drape my lower limbs, I draw the line. Put out those shorts, Pollard.'
'Very good, sir.'
'And I can't see what you've got against them, anyway. Everyone who's anyone is wearing them on the Corso.'
'The Mediterranean temperament allows itself a latitude which does not become the English gentleman, sir.'
'Perfect rot. And I may say that I've had nothing but admiration for them from the gentler s.'
'I regret to say that ladies' judgment is frequently defective in these matters, sir. They are too readily swayed by affection for the wearer.'
'Stuff and nonsense, Pollard. I am convinced that, given time, you will grow to love them.'
'I fear not, sir.'
'Be that as it may, I wear those shorts, Pollard.'
'Very good, sir.'
'Very good, Pollard.'
Dashed painful, and all that, but it had to be done. I mean, is one to be a mere peon or serf of one's manservant? The thing's too bally absurd. Absolutely!
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Tit for tat
Laban Tall picked up on my last post and has thus earned instant reciprocation. This'll make you groan...
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The complications of modern life
Spotted in a brochure from Portmeirion Potteries...
For burning instructions, please see label at base of candle.
candles:
For burning instructions, please see label at base of candle.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Top blogger confesses: 'I think Grumpy's job is interesting'
From normblog:-
From the back page of the Bookseller for 10 March:
How boring is this? If you take the ISBN number of any book and multiply the first digit by 10, the second by nine, the third by eight and so on, and then add all the answers together, the total is always divisible by 11.
I didn't find it boring. I tried it with several books, and it was true for all of them. It's no accident.
Any time you'd like to hear some of my best purchase ledger anecdotes, Norm...
From the back page of the Bookseller for 10 March:
How boring is this? If you take the ISBN number of any book and multiply the first digit by 10, the second by nine, the third by eight and so on, and then add all the answers together, the total is always divisible by 11.
I didn't find it boring. I tried it with several books, and it was true for all of them. It's no accident.
Any time you'd like to hear some of my best purchase ledger anecdotes, Norm...
Friday, March 10, 2006
Quality of life
Gosh, that long since I last posted here?
Nothing special from me this time, just a pointer to two letters in today's Indie which are in their different ways worth reading. The fact that they appear on the same page of the paper is my only defence to the charge of appalling taste in linking them - apart from a suspicion that the writer of the first one enjoys a laugh as much as the next woman.
'I am severely disabled by spina bifida, hydrocephalus, emphysema and osteoporosis. I use a wheelchair full time, and need morphine on a daily basis for severe spinal pain. Even that doesn't always work, and when the pain is bad I cannot move, speak or think. What does Mr Hari think of my "quality of life"? Should I be subjected to the lethal injection he sees as the solution to suffering?'
'He may respond that as I want to live, I should be allowed to do so. The problem is that I didn't always want to live. Twenty years ago, when doctors wrongly thought I was terminally ill, I wanted to die, a settled wish that lasted about ten years. Had lethal injection been an option then I would have requested it. And if I had died then I would have missed the best years of my life. I really was "screaming in agony" then and often I still am. I can only hope that when I am in great pain, Mr Hari is not around waiting in the wings to "put me out of my misery".'
- from an incredibly moving letter by Alison Davis. Whilst Peter Coghlan has a job for a Good Samaritan...
'Scientific solution to a weight problem
'Sir: Guy Adams (Pandora, 9 March) asks how Geri Halliwell would know that her breasts weigh around three pounds each.
'Theoretically it is not such a difficult problem to solve. Human breast tissue is mostly water and by using a suitably sized receptacle filled with water, she could lower her breast into it and measure the amount of water displaced.
'As 1 litre of water weighs 1 Kg she can calculate the approximate weight of each one and convert to imperial units, where 1Kg equals 2.2lb.
'No doubt there will be more than a few good Samaritans out there willing to volunteer their services to help Ms Halliwell verify the theory.'
Nothing special from me this time, just a pointer to two letters in today's Indie which are in their different ways worth reading. The fact that they appear on the same page of the paper is my only defence to the charge of appalling taste in linking them - apart from a suspicion that the writer of the first one enjoys a laugh as much as the next woman.
'I am severely disabled by spina bifida, hydrocephalus, emphysema and osteoporosis. I use a wheelchair full time, and need morphine on a daily basis for severe spinal pain. Even that doesn't always work, and when the pain is bad I cannot move, speak or think. What does Mr Hari think of my "quality of life"? Should I be subjected to the lethal injection he sees as the solution to suffering?'
'He may respond that as I want to live, I should be allowed to do so. The problem is that I didn't always want to live. Twenty years ago, when doctors wrongly thought I was terminally ill, I wanted to die, a settled wish that lasted about ten years. Had lethal injection been an option then I would have requested it. And if I had died then I would have missed the best years of my life. I really was "screaming in agony" then and often I still am. I can only hope that when I am in great pain, Mr Hari is not around waiting in the wings to "put me out of my misery".'
- from an incredibly moving letter by Alison Davis. Whilst Peter Coghlan has a job for a Good Samaritan...
'Scientific solution to a weight problem
'Sir: Guy Adams (Pandora, 9 March) asks how Geri Halliwell would know that her breasts weigh around three pounds each.
'Theoretically it is not such a difficult problem to solve. Human breast tissue is mostly water and by using a suitably sized receptacle filled with water, she could lower her breast into it and measure the amount of water displaced.
'As 1 litre of water weighs 1 Kg she can calculate the approximate weight of each one and convert to imperial units, where 1Kg equals 2.2lb.
'No doubt there will be more than a few good Samaritans out there willing to volunteer their services to help Ms Halliwell verify the theory.'
Friday, October 28, 2005
Fame at last
Whilst Mr Grumpy didn’t start blogging with any great expectations of reaching a mass audience, it must be admitted that of late he has been pining for just a little attention. His hopes were raised when two comments were posted. ‘Your blog is really pleasant’ – hey, a fan. Bitter disappointment! The one telling him he pays too much for his car insurance rankled particularly. No he doesn’t. He hasn’t got a car.
And now comes recognition from that prince of the political blogosphere, Laban Tall. Mille grazie, Laban, your blog is the best ever, I’ll have your babies just as soon as it becomes medically feasible, and by the by, did you know that you are probably paying too much for your car insurance?
And now comes recognition from that prince of the political blogosphere, Laban Tall. Mille grazie, Laban, your blog is the best ever, I’ll have your babies just as soon as it becomes medically feasible, and by the by, did you know that you are probably paying too much for your car insurance?
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