For goodness' sake, put it away!

Ladies, I have what I believe is a reasonable request:

In recent years, it has become fashionable for you to wear trousers with no waistbands and shirts/blouses with raised hems. The combined effect—I'm guessing it's deliberate—is to expose varying amounts of your mid-sections. No harm in that. I suppose it lets you show off your newly pierced belly-buttons (another fad I don't understand, but I don't suppose I need to).

However, might I request that you show a degree of common sense when toying with the idea of wearing such outfits? They do no justice whatsoever, for example, to women with extremely large and flabby beer-bellies (why not follow my own worthy example and keep them covered up?); heavily pregnant women look plain ridiculous in them (yes, we know you're proud to be fertile, but think of the dignity of your foetus); ladies of a certain age, I have two words for you: mutton and lamb; younger ladies, please note, the exposed thong is the 21st Century equivalent of the reversed baseball cap.

But I am prepared to put up with all of these minor indiscretions, if you promise not to break the ultimate taboo. Never again do I want to see (as I did in the Prestwich branch of Tesco on Thursday) an-inch-and-a-half of what can only be described as thatch creeping over the top of a waistband.

Although it did at least remind me to buy Weetabix.

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Man of Mystery and Adventure

Last week, I announced to Stense that I had decided to foster a new image as a Man of Mystery and Adventure.

This Monday, I had to go to a conference, so I emailed Carolyn to say that I wouldn't be able to meet her as usual for coffee—adding mysteriously that I couldn't tell her why. When she asked why I couldn't tell her, I hinted—well, I suppose it was more of an announcement than a hint—that I was going DEEPLY COVERT on a TOP SECRET mission.

I don't think Carolyn believed me.

So, during one of the conference's coffee breaks, I went out into some rhododendron bushes and called Carolyn at work. I told her in a hushed voice that I was hiding in some bushes. I don't think she believed that either. I reassured her that I hadn't been spotted yet, and warned her that she might receive a strange phone call from someone using the password 'Belgium'. If and when she received the call, she was to inform the caller that Agent Eleven was silent running and was on a code 83. I asked her if she was writing all this down. She told me to stop being silly.

Carolyn then said that she would probably be able to meet me the following day for coffee, but that she might have to go to the butcher's first. I thought this was a strange thing to say, so I asked her to repeat it. There was a slight pause, then she repeated what she had just said, but this time she said bookshop instead of butcher's. I thought nothing of it at the time, putting it down to a simple mishearing, but afterwards I started thinking…

What if Carolyn had actually believed all my Man of Mystery and Adventure stuff? What if she wasn't a supemodel at all? What if she was actually a counter-agent?! What if "I might have to go to the butcher's first" was a standard counter-agent pass-phrase to test whether other people are on their side? What if she now realised that I wasn't on her side? And what if Carolyn—if, indeed, Carolyn is her real name—thought I knew too much?

So I've decided not to be a Man of Mystery and Adventure any more—just in case.

See also: Man of Mystery and Adventure part 2

Dad on Fayed

My dad last night:

I see that Al Fayed has buggered off to France. We wouldn't give him a passport, but the French have given him some major honour: le coup de grâce, or something like that.

[Mohamed Al Fayed has actually moved to Switzerland.]

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Better late than never

On 1st January last year, I made 10 bullshit predictions for the forthcoming year based on anagrams of my friend Carolyn, the supemodel's name. As we have seen, eight of these predictions came true. Of the two that remained, one (Anything for Carl) came true today:

Orlando Sentinel: The rise and pratfall of ottoman empire
…Despite doubts about revisiting a show nearly 40 years later, [Dick] Van Dyke finally gave in for several reasons. "I'd do anything for Carl Reiner, and he wanted to do it very badly," the actor says in a call with TV writers. "Just the chance of getting together with everybody -- the week was really the most fun I'd had in a long time."

Spooky!

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Incriminating photographs

My mobile phone has a facility whereby you can associate contacts with photographs. When someone in your contacts list calls you, their photo appears on the screen.

Yesterday evening, Jen's young niece asked if she could play with my phone. The following conversation took place:

Niece: Oh look, here's a photograph of Auntie Jen!
Jen
Me: Yes, it's a nice photo, isn't it?
Niece: Who's this?
Stense
Me: Shh! That's my other girlfriend, Stense. Your Auntie Jen doesn't know about her!
[Niece looks at me suspiciously, then carries on playing with the phone.]
Niece: And who's this?
Carolyn
Me: Shh That's Carolyn, my other other girlfriend… Neither Auntie Jen nor Stense know about her!
[Niece looks at me even more suspiciously, then studies the photo more closely.]
Niece: That's not your girlfriend; that's a supermodel!
Me: What makes you think she's a supermodel?
Niece: Well, she's really pretty, but she isn't smiling—and her hair is all over the place!

Mum sums it up

I visited my parents last night. The following conversation took place as we were watching a programme on BBC4 about the painter, Paul Gauguin, presented by arts critic, Waldemar Janusczak:

Janusczak: The death of Gauguin's mother had an incalculable effect on his psyche…
Dad: What the hell does that mean?
Me: It's Jungian psychoanalytical bollocks.
Dad: But what does it mean?
Mum: It means he was very upset.

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Overheard in the newsagents

"Do you sell cards for people wanting to decline wedding invitations?"
"Do you want a single one or a pack?"

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