Itisi

Just a quick post to let you know that anyone using Blogger in draft can adjust their comment settings to include Open ID, which is a big improvement on the options of either allowing only registered users, or allowing anyone to comment, including anonymous folk. So, if you came here from WordPress, for example, you can leave a comment using your WP log-in info and Blogger bloggers won’t have to worry about weird anonymous trolls turning up to gurn at us.

ps: it’s true, most trolls do look like that!

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This is going to be short – ‘the hand’ is feeling a bit stiff, so I have to type really slowly.

Anyhow, I’m quite glad that the England manager has been sacked. Not (only) for the obvious reasons, but also because it saves me the embarrassment of telling people that the national squad is managed by Malcolm McLaren. Yes, I know what his name really is, but for some reason I can never remember it.

Also, the sports commentator, Alan Green, is obviously an extremely jealous man. Last night after Liverpool’s fabulous victory (4-1) he said that Sammi Hyypia’s legs were ‘no good’. What? I have seen Sammi’s legs and I say they are very good, excellent in fact. Great thighs! And as for his bum . . .

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Of the many threats (allegedly) facing our country at the moment, none is greater than that posed by a hitherto shadowy and secretive group who advocate radical jam making.

In order to understand radical jam making you need to realize that everything is controlled by a branch of The Women’s Institute made up of jockeys with help from fans of William Hague.

The conspiracy first started during The Battle of Agincourt in a Tesco’s car park which led to the annihilation of many innocent shopping trolleys. They have been responsible for many events throughout history, including the career of Cliff Richard and The Eurovision Song Contest.

Today, members of the conspiracy are everywhere. They can be identified by snoring and playing Suduko.

They want to throw mashed potatoes at Aled Jones and imprison resisters in Basingstoke using penny farthings.

In order to prepare for this, we all must get well bladdered. Since the media is controlled by Julian Clary we should get our information from Jim Davidson.

Alternatively, go here and make your own conspiracy theory.

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Last night the Radio 5 phone-in show had a discussion about Christmas. I didn’t really pay attention to a lot of it because I was reading a book (Hannibal Rising) but one caller did catch my attention. Some odd bod came on singing the praises of supermarket mince pies, and even went as far as saying that making your own was pretentious and middle class. This man – for it was a man – obviously has no taste buds, because supermarket mince pies are really quite unpleasant. Especially the pastry – that is always clammy and vile. Making your own mince pies is a matter of common sense, it has nothing do with class, or pretension. Plus, it really doesn’t take that much time.

* Simply make some pastry using about 8oz of flour, 4oz of margarine, and some milk – you can adjust those quantities, I’m never particularly precise about amounts and tend to bung stuff into the bowl until it seems right.

* Then roll the pastry out and using a cup cut out lots of little circles – you need an even number.

* Place half your circles into the indents in a baking tray and fill with a couple of spoons of mincemeat. I like the jazzed up stuff from a chain store advertised by Twiggy, but the cheap and cheerful variety works just as well. Brush a little beaten egg around the edges of the circles and give each a lid.

* Brush a bit more beaten egg on to the top of each pie and sprinkle on some ground ginger. You can also use nutmeg.

* Bake for 20 – 25 minutes or until light golden brown.

* Sit down and enjoy a nice glass of wine.

Serving suggestions (’cause you have to have some):

- Eat with cream
- Eat with custard
- Eat with brandy butter – but only if you like food that smells of paint.

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Guess what I watched last night? Monkey! It was on some odd channel quite late at night, and as soon as I saw it I knew I had to watch it. Mr Blogs remarked that it probably wouldn’t be as good as I remembered, but he was wrong. It was great! In fact, so great that I stayed up much later than I intended just to watch to the end.

It’s much funnier than I remembered – I think I was so young when I watched it before I tended to take every story at face value. Last night though, I found myself laughing all the way through, and mostly it was with the actors, not at them. The plot was quite simplistic, but at that time of night who needs complex and in depth. Anyhow, now that I know it is on, I shall try to video it ready for the next time I’m laid up on the sofa with some hideous lurgy because I think it would be perfect lurgy viewing.

The only downside was the adverts in between. As a child I watched Monkey on BBC2, so there were no ads, now it is on commercial tv and there are some. Annoyingly, they seemed to all be for those ‘text for girls’ services, which are really cheesy. Does anyone actually fall for them? And why do the women who appear in them make such bizarre faces?

One ad featured a girl in the back of a taxi who was so delighted at the text she had just received, one could easily have believed Johnny Depp was the sender. If she gets that excited about a text message, the poor woman would probably explode if something really interesting happened to her.

Earlier, I watched Graham Norton. His guests were Jo Brand, Alison Moyet and Trinny and Suzannah. I’ve got to say the latter two are seriously annoying. They also have more in common with the models in the ‘text for girls’ ads than they might like to admit. I wonder if they ever had a conversation like this:

T: You know, we ought to set up a service to tell other women how to dress, we could become really successful and sell loads of books, maybe even get our own tv series.

S: That will never work. Most of my clothes are at least one size too small, and you dress like a teenage boy. What woman would take advice from us!?

T: Hmm. You have a point. How about we sex things up a little by constantly mentioning the word tits – heck, we could even grab other womens’ tits at every opportunity.

S: Yes, that could work. Tits. But, would women like that?

T: No, but men would. Tits.

S: That’s true. Tits. We could pander to male fantasies. Admittedly, that won’t appeal to many women, but men will watch in droves. Tits.

On the other hand, they may like the word tits because it’s so apt.

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