The absolute callousness of announcing a 44% trade tariff against Myanmar this week, of all weeks.
Now that we’re here, and the angry people are on X and the dancing people are on insta, and we’re all finding a place; wouldn’t it be nice if there was a peaceful garden somewhere, just for the sexy lady bot accounts, where they could finally rest.
Today I will be mainly recovering from visiting 4 volcanoes in Italy in a week for a science doc. And eating many, many fine Neapolitan pizzas. This is either Stromboli, or my digestive system.
I don’t know about you, but I’m still sort of processing that the US president stood up in the UN and declared that London is about to be under Sharia law, and the response has been “actually, that won’t happen” rather than “Jesus, that is insane.”
So this was the sky last night. Early evening is the best time to catch the planetary parade, but it’ll be happening for few weeks, and Mercury might even be visible too at the end of the month.
The scene outside any Irish funeral.
I do not find Severance as confusing as the “previously on Severance” recaps; which seem to be random scenes I have never seen before.
Very sad to hear of the death of Jon Kenny today. One half of D’Unbelievables, who were a comedy phenomena in Ireland in the 1990s, Jon (along with Pat Shortt) created brilliant, mad worlds, dragging the audience, roaring with laughter, with them. An inspiration. RIP.
Call me an old traditionalist, but it just isn’t Christmas until you can buy Churros in a German market in Birmingham.
Watched Bladerunner again last night. Would have been so much better if they had gone with the original idea, that instead of origami unicorns, Edward James Olmos’ character had made balloon animals.
“It’s too bad she won’t live;
but then again
SQUEEEK-SQUEEEK-SQUEEEEEEK-SQUEEEEK
Who does?”
Oof. This is impressive. Not the usual green-tie nonsense.
Point: Italian food is fresh, delicious and the envy of the world.
Counterpoint: At Italian service stations you can buy crisps in a tube twice the side of my head
Didn’t Invalid Handle compose the Shmallelujah Chorus?
The ONLY acceptable version of this dreadful song.
Happy Paddy’s Day, one and all.
See? This is the sort of nonsense we used to enjoy.
A litle bit of silliness for your friday afternoon. Me, totally losing it onstage, a week ago in Dublin.
Lovely fella by the way, he thought this hilarious, albeit in a characteristically hangdog way, just to re-assure you.
You should come back and do a quick, four episode run of Mock the Week, they said.
Don’t be ridicolous, I said.
What news will there be, in June, during a World Cup?
Oh, they said. Something will happen.
Anyway, Sunday nights on TLC and available on the TLC YouTube channel afterwards.
From my hotel room in Manchester, there an electronic billboard in a car park, and every 30 seconds, you can see money being burnt to promo a film no one wants to see, to placate an ego, 5,000 miles away.
Must check out that new biscuit though.
Received this text message from my father yesterday. Panicked that he had had a stroke, or similar.
Turns out it was my iPhone trying to transcribe the Irish language.
This is so pure and beautiful. I almost don’t want to destroy it by actually posting something. Like clomping through virgin snow. There, I’ve ruined it now.
So, Hounslow council have banned Lime bikes, and licensed Forest and Voi; neighbouring Richmond has licensed Lime and banned the others. So every bridge over the Thames is now Checkpoint Charlie, with loads of Lime bikes parked on one side and loads of Forest and Voi on the other. Top work everyone!