Good bloke

You might have noticed there have been fewer Gruts updates this last week. The following extract from an email to Stense this evening offers some explanation:

Thanks for asking about my toothache. Bad news, I'm afraid: the dentist said the offending tooth had to come out straight away. It was a long and difficult process. It was particularly traumatic for me when the dentist trapped my beard in his pliers. And he had to cut my gum to get at the root. And he stitched up my gum afterwards. And he prescribed me some elephant tranquilisers for the pain and some antibiotics to prevent infection. And I left the surgery five minutes before the chemist's was due to shut. So I had to park on a yellow line for the first time in my life. And, when I came out of the chemist's, there was a traffic warden standing by my car, typing something into her little computer. And the traffic warden saw me crossing the road towards her, and she saw my face all swollen up (I still had a swab in my mouth), and she said, "What on earth happened to you?" And I said "Hy'f jfft hd u twfff pwllt uwtf!" And she said, "Oh, you poor thing!" And she showed me her little computer with my car registration number on the screen, and she said, "Do you know, if you'd have crossed that road one second later, I would have pressed this green button by now, and it would have been too late to press this red one instead." And she pressed the red button, and the word 'CANCELLED' appeared on the screen. And I told her she was a good bloke, and I would have kissed her, but my mouth was too sore.

It was 150 years ago today…

I have just realised that 150 years ago this very day, Charles Darwin took up his pen and began the first draft of what was to become On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. The rest, as they say is history.

In celebration of this noteworthy anniversary, I have determined to stop faffing about and finally begin work on a long-planned major revamp of The Friends of Charles Darwin website. Hopefully it should take me considerably less time than it took Darwin to publish his masterpiece.

Postscript: The revamped website went live on 23rd August, 2006.

The Mole Hunter

The subject of moles cropped up during my conversation with an expert gardener earlier this week:

Gardener: Did you get that business card I popped through your letterbox last week? The one for the mole hunter?
Me: Yes I did.
Gardener: He's very good. You've probably seen him around. He's very easy to recognise: he only has one arm.
Me: Bloody hell! What kind of traps does he use?

Later, I started thinking whimsically about this conversation. It seemed odd that a mole hunter would have business cards. I had visions of him turning up at a prospective customer's door, briefcase (quite literally) in hand, presenting his card, and opening up the briefcase to reveal a set of samples.

And can you imagine, what it must be like back at mole hunter head office? All the top managers anxiously studying the latest Powerpointed quarterly returns, wondering whether there was anything in the rumours about a potential takeover by Rentokil.

Actually, I think it's pretty cool that there are still professional mole hunters around. And I think it's really cool that I now have one of their business cards.

?

The official Fall website: FAQ

Question: Have any of the Fall albums ever gone platinum? - asked by Killian.
Answer: At the present time, no Fall albums have reached the requisite number of sales to attain Platinum status in either the US or UK.

I hope and assume that Killian was taking the piss.

For the record, the day a Fall album goes platinum in any officially-recognised country on this planet is the day I bare my famously peach-like arse in Kendal's front window. Probably.

The Fall is not—and, I also hope and assume, never will be—a platinum-album-type band. That's why you should buy their stuff. They are extremely good. Here is what they sound like:

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

Here's some more:

…Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

Go for it, chaps!

See also: He talks a lot of wind.

Dock Pudding

Dock Pudding
Dock Pudding!

For those of you who might have doubted me when I claimed (two years back) that the good folks of Hebden Bridge are in the habit of eating dock leaves with their fry-ups, here is photographic proof.

We had dock pudding for breakfast last Sunday.

Bloody marvellous, 'appen!

[Important Note: Actually, they're not dock leaves, they're the leaves of common bistort, but they're known as dock leaves in these parts!]

Conversation with an expert gardener yesterday

Me: The weeds have taken over our rockery again this year. I'm thinking of spraying them.
Gardener: I've got this marvellous stuff you can use. It kills anything green, but is perfectly safe for children and cats.
Me: You don't have anything that's unsafe for children and cats do you?

Trim

Stense and I went out for a pub meal and a few pints last night. She is one alopecoid lady, and a 200 carat diamond geezer.

As luck would have it, the woman who cuts my and Jen's hair popped round the morning before. I asked her to try to do a decent job this time, as I was going out on a hot date with one of my other women. She did the best she could with the material available, then, for good measure, she leant over with her scissors and snipped the end off what she described as my curly right eyebrow.

Curly eyebrows. Christ, I'm getting old!

Vindicated!

Peter McGrath: Shake me up, Judy (19-Dec-2005)

… The best thing she [Gillian 'Agent Scully' Anderson in the BBC's adaptation of Bleak House] did was die, and as she expired wetly (literally and dramatically) I found myself cheering and shouting at the screen for someone to bury her fast and cheap… She was the only fly in an otherwise wonderful ointment. Her work permit should be revoked immediately and she sent back to make more trash TV for gullible American youth to quote in their essays.

Gruts: Stiff upper crust (21-Dec-2005)

… Agent Scully, if you're reading this, please ignore Peter so-called McGrath: you can do both totally repressed and TOTALLY MENTAL extremely well. In my book, that's a full A to Z of emotions. I confidently predict a BAFTA nomination for you—although I expect the award will go to your talented daughter.

BAFTA: This year's nominations

ACTRESS

GILLIAN ANDERSON - Bleak House (BBC1)
LUCY COHU - The Queen's Sister (Channel 4)
ANNE-MARIE DUFF - Shameless (Channel 4)
ANNA MAXWELL MARTIN - Bleak House (BBC1)

(My emphasis added.)

But Peter and I are in complete agreement that the BAFTA should rightly go to Anna Maxwell Martin (who played Agent Scully's pockmarked daughter).

Postscript: Peter and I called it right. Congratulations Anna M M.

Muggerty

Jen and I invented a useful new word yesterday: muggerty.

It was one of those mornings when you wake up full of good intentions, meaning to get lots of little jobs done around the house (with a bit of gardening thrown in for good measure, perhaps). But, as we looked out of the window over breakfast, it became quite clear that not one of those little jobs was going to get done. It was cold, and wet and horrible, you see. Not quite windy enough to be described as blustery, but pretty damn close. And it looked as if the weather was there to say. It was the sort of day where you turn the central heating back on, having turned it off for what you believed would be the entire summer only a week earlier. It was the sort of day where you decide to light a fire and sit in front of it all day, drinking tea. And, because you know you're going to be there for the duration, you decide to drink large mugs of the stuff, rather than the usual cups. Mugs are much more comforting than cups on days like that.

"It's a mug-of-tea sort of day," I observed to Jen, draining my second mug of the morning.

"Yes, very muggerty," agreed Jen.