Happy Birthday

Adam’s birthday, celebration at the fine Footage and Firkin and we can get a good show of United thrashing Sunderland as well. Sir Alex says he’s worried about the eight goal advantage that Chelsea have; I take it to mean he wants to score 8 against Sunderland. Yippee yay! Then I suppose we’re gonna meander along Oxford Road to all the pubs on the way. We got him a nice book as a present, and it’s got pictures and all so he won’t have to worry.
We took some photographs in town, the food market’s open in St Ann’s Square, and some people are singing in Albert Square. It’s the BBC Music Tour or summat, I dunno, I’m not the BBC.

Update: United couldn’t even score a goal. Shame!! The most boring 0-0 match ever. Thank God I was too bladdered to notice anyway.

Drag record

If, like me, you were surprised a week ago by the strange but worryingly (to me) arousing sight of young nubile men walking down Wilmslow Road near Owens Park dressed in drag, then the secret of this mysterious phenomenon is now mine to share with y’all. It was 58 students attempting to set a new record in the name of charity. A record for the largest number of dancing drag queens. They cha-cha-chaed for six and a half minutes, you’ll be pleased to learn.

Found, Shared: The Magazine Photowork at The CUBE Gallery, Portland Street. This is supposed to be an exhibition of photos from the specialist magazine for photographers who complain that there’s nothing left to be photographed anymore, so you can expect a real weird bunch of snaps. Amongst them, a photograph of a number of cans containing foodstuffs from around the globe. Elk stew from the US, worms from Botswana, bee larvae from Japan. You get the picture?

My horoscope says: “You need fun, spontaneity and intellectual stimulation from your partner now and the best way to find it is either by taking a trip or planning one”. Then, of course not to let the loner singletons down, it goes on “If you are single, then expect someone surprising to enter your life when you least expect it”, thereby just shoring up their hopes that some stranger will waltz into their lives.

Oh, and crooks are using Bluetooth technology to detect laptops left hidden but switched on in cars. Of course, robbery follows this detection. And Ioannis, who recently had his sat-nav stolen, will be delighted to hear that according to Manchester Metro News, “police officers advise motorists to remove any sat-nav systems from cars, a popular new target for criminals, and to empty the glove box and leave it open”.

The Inside Man

Finally going to see The Inside Man. Didn’t go to Adam’s dinner party at the Syrian restaurant. Was up until all kinds of hours last night because Sha had popped in The Thomas Crown Affair (Pierce Brosnan, and Rene “Androgynous Face” Russo, VHS) because she couldn’t sleep, and that woke me up. Following which she promptly passed out on the couch, leaving me wide awake watching the whole film (and managing to polish off a round of beef noodles at 4 of the a.m.). Cracking film though, eh? You don’t get films that really have that sophistication of plot nowadays, and it’ll be nice to compare The Inside Man to it having it fresh in my mind.
It’s been an otherwise dull couple of days, if you discount the visit of Ali and the usual imbibing of hallucinogenics it entails. Actually been a bit under the weather due to having visited “The Grand Central” two nights in a row.
I should get hold of some P.G.Wodehouse soon, and then I’ll obviously be practicing his style in some of my blogs!

UPDATE:- Inside Man is very aptly titled, as the man is inside. Great film, absolutely worth every penny. For once it was unassailable plot (even by my standards) so much so that I forgot to eat the popcorn. Clive Owen and Denzel Washington play off each other so well, and Christopher Plummer is so like a white Morgan Freeman.


I was browsing round the back of my blog, showing off to Sha how much more control I have over my blog because I pay exorbitant amounts to have it hosted (pennies, actually) and suddenly noticed, number of posts=249. Which means: This is my twohundredandfiftieth post. I can’t believe I’ve had so much to teach, and the world still hasn’t changed much!! Now I know what Jesus must’ve felt like, trying to discipline the Philistines. Ooops, I feel a parable coming on…
There once was a grasshopper, who ate all his food, yeah?

Had a good time yesterday, managed to finally go to Red Chilli, a restaurant I had heard a lot about, but never actually visited. (The last time I wanted dinner with Sha, I called them to book a table and they said they can’t book for less than 8 people. I, not knowing that many people, had to decline. I was assured, however, that seats would be available after a wait of no more than 15 mins. When we turned up it was obviously crammed to the rafters) The food was absolutely gorgeous. I was there with Gareth, after having watched and celebrated Man Utd dominate Arsenal and thrash them 2-0 in the Footage. (Here comes the inevitable revertion to monkey-state – “ROOOOOONEYYY”) We looked quite the dashing couple, with blue jeans and corduroy jackets apiece. I ordered something called Garlicked chicken, which was dry thin strips of crispy coated chicken, tasting very much like Chicken Kiev. But Gareth ordered some lamb in a dark sauce, which was incredibly soft and yummicious. And the egg-fried rice was something I’d happily pawn my grandmother for if she wasn’t already in hock for those marbles that, as a little kid, I just had to have. My joy was doubled by the fact that I ate my whole meal using chopsticks, an accomplishemnt which I attribute to the fact that the alcohol had so numbed me that I wasn’t feeling the pain of my cramped fingers at all!!

Mickey in China / h5N1

I have a lot of nice online friends who leave heart-warming comments like “This is very information site” and “This website is very wonderful and colorful, thanks”. All from the same teen-porn site URL. Ah well, at least the kind people who wanted to increase my, ahem, length and girth have stopped calling.

The Rolling Stones are planning to play in China. Apparently they had to remove 5 songs from their intended playlist to satisfy the “officials”. But for once the young rebels won’t mind, as their show is gonna be livecast around the country, thereby opening up a huge market of people who’ve never heard of them, and therefore might actually buy some records thinking it’s a slice of capitalist freedom they’re buying. What’s a little censure then, eh Mickey?

I watched ‘Ice Age 2’ with the lady yesterday, (I see Rachey’s done it too) it was a real hoot! I must admit I didn’t fancy the idea of sitting in a cinema packed with little monsters running around and eating popcorn and kicking the seats, but amazingly none of the brats were around! I remember when I was young, it was the X-rated ones I was trying to get into, not bloody U-certificate. But the movie was ab-fab! The studio guys realised we wanted more of the little mouse guy chasing the acorn, and they delivered!! The possums were funny, and sloth always is good for a few laughs.

Oh, and did you know there’s a licence plate up for sale on e-bay or summat. Nothing new, except the plate is H5N1. Yes, you can drive round being “Bird Flu Man” (not as catchy as some superheroes, but them bloody swans will sure give you a wide berth).
p.s. I couldn’t find it myself, being too poor to shop on the world’s biggest supermarket, but this fact was announced on BBC, so it must be true.

Ah, glory

It’s a sunny day, I’ve been surfing t’net all morning at Sha’s place (free t’internet), and now we’ll go down the road to Fallowfield and find somewhere to lie down in the grass and have a bellyful of the finest of whatever British pub cuisine has to offer.
I’ve been having a listen to some old Hindi songs (circa 1956, when music was real and meaningful, and god did they sing!) and recalled some real happy choons about dying, and death, and misery, and sorrow, and death. Yes, a real swinging mood.

“Mohabbat ki jhooti kahani pe roye
badi chot khayi jawani pe roye”
I cry for the false tale of love
I cry for the great wounds of youth