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Just who the hell do the people at GMail think they are, marking as spam an email sent to me entitled ‘An important message from the United Nations’?
This is outrageous. I am seriously considering writing to Ban Ki-moon. The only thing that prevents me is the realisation that the people at GMail would no doubt mark my email as spam. They've got us over a barrel, basically.
This is how wars get started.
Which bit of ‘No comebacks, Phil. They're not dignified’ didn't I make clear?
Things my bank expects me to remember when using their machines/online banking facilities:
And I mustn't write any of these things down anywhere, because that wouldn't be secure.
But it's OK, because they've now simplified matters by allowing me (or anyone else in possession of my card) to buy stuff simply by waving my card at some detector by the checkout.
BBC: Hundreds of disappointed fans are "left weeping" after One Direction cancel a Belfast concert minutes before they are due on stage, when Liam Payne falls ill.
Let's face it, these fans were already pretty sad to start with.
They say you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. It turns out I can't make an omelette full-stop:
Not quite the culinary masterpiece I envisaged. It tasted all right though. The Parmesan and chorizo filling was an inspired choice—even though it turned out to be more of a topping.
Postscript (16-Oct-2015): 24-hours later. Same recipe, same chef, different frying pan:
I think I might have peaked.
Remember this from December 2009?
I see Manchester City F.C. has a new manager, Roberto Mancini.
This is blatant Gunners envy. The Citizens simply couldn't stomach the fact that Arsenal were the only Premiership side whose manager, Arsène Wenger, had a name which was practically identical to the club's. So Man. City had to have Mancini. It was as simple as that.
What nonsense can we expect next? Chelsea Clinton to manage The Pensioners? Trevor Nunn to take over at Goodison? The late Oliver Poole to replace Benítez at Anfield?
Well, not quite. But I couldn't help noticing that the team synonymous with the Kop has just appointed a new manager with the made-up name of Jurgen Klopp.
The world has gone mad.
I have to say, 19 across proved spectacularly difficult—although we got there in the end:
Some chap in front of me in the queue at Sainsbury's today bought £190's-worth of Budweiser and a packet of paracetamol. Admirable forward planning.
He then rather spoilt matters by attempting to pay in cash, using Scottish bank notes. Checkout chaos ensued.
[Yes, I am aware that ‘forward planning’ is hideously tautological.]
