El Juli presents

Looking for a present for a tricky nephew? Check this out.

A different world?

I recently received junk email relating to the website Iraqiart.com. The fact that I've just used the phrase "relating to" reminds me of a conversation I had with Geoff recently which involved my sudden realisation that, if you count University (as Glanville Williams claims you should), I'm now into my ninth year as a "lawyer" and this has not had a wholly beneficial effect on my vocabulary or style of speaking/writing. I almost used the phrase "pursuant to" in normal conversation the other day... Iraqiart.com reminded me that although the Iraqis all have big black moustaches (irrespective, it seems, of age and gender) they do have art and maybe they aren't all that different from us after all. Sadeeka Al Mulaya is hardly Britney Spears and maybe bears more resemlance to a 65+ contemporary dancer but perhaps that's all the more reason to extend a little compassion to the citizens of Iraq rather than pummelling them with cruise missiles. But how similar really are they? Do their lawyers talk incomprehensible/noncommittal bollocks too after 9 years of being trained so to do? Does Saddam chastise his minions for having engaged in "not particularly joined-up thinking?" And do they refer to manky lever-arch files full of transaction documents as Korans?

Tonight I am due to attend Pina Bausch’s “Kontakthof” with April and Suz. Apparently, Pina is the dog’s when it comes to innovative contemporary dance choreography. Of more pressing concern to me is that I just looked on the Barbican website and discovered the following information:

a) the cast are all aged 65 or over; and

b) it lasts for 3 hours.

Wish me luck. I will let you know how it goes, if I survive.

Happy Thanksgiving you seppos. Saw this about amusing ways to liven up your Thanksgiving dinner. Generally small pony and somewhat reminiscent of those emails that idiots forward to you ad nauseam, but redeemed by the amusing:

“Volunteer to say grace, and try to say thanks as Snoop Dogg might. Suggested vocabulary words: grizz-avy, tizz-urkey, cran-beezy sauce, gizz-izzards”;

and the unsubtly barbed:

“Honor the first Thanksgiving by travelling across an ocean, having a delicious dinner with the friendly people, and then killing them and using a mocking caricature of their culture as the mascot for a sports team. Also, wear a buckle on your hat”.

More Satire

While driving to the office this morning, I looked over to my left and there was a woman doing 65 miles per hour with her face up to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner! I looked away for a couple seconds and when I looked back she was half way over in my lane, still working on that makeup! It scared me so bad, I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the donut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked the cell phone away from my ear which fell into the coffee between my legs, splashed and burned big Jim and the twins, causing me to scream, which made me drop the cigarette out of my mouth, ruined the phone and disconnected an important phone call! Women drivers!

Although I have not been contributing much to this site over the last week or so, there have been many things I could have written about. My recent trip to Boston for a long weekend visiting Father Ben. The grilling from US Customs on the way in. The foreignness of the USA and its intriguing people. The films I have seen this week — Donnie Darko, Die Another Day, Chopper — a pretty eclectic selection, all interesting in different ways. Thoughts about my job. Thoughts about responsibility and the future. But at the forefront of my mind, it has suddenly struck me that Chrish is really going to move out into his own flat next month. The final stage in the diaspora of the 58 boys/ Dalston Massive. The end of an era. A significant time. I guess we all have to grow up sooner or later.

winter is here

possibly not technically
but both april and i will be snug and warm in our brand-new brand-old winter coats
as an add-on april's is trimmed with animal fur (amusingly a summer coat... short and with summer mink colouring)
i also questioned how vegetarian friendly this is... but having debated the issue internally it seems perfectly reasonable to make the most of the cruel slicing of such a creature and still "restecp" the little furry thing
keep it real
everyone go out and wear your edgar suit
i'm off to drink sugar water

Wimmin

I was in dead early today and had to work around the highly skilled office hygiene professionals who take care of our little pavillion. I couldn't help noticing that one of them was a man, and I have been wondering ever since what the term is for a cleaning lady that is a man - a cleaning "gentleman"? That of course, set off all kinds of worries about whether I am in fact a misogynistic dinosaur and about how our society imposes these roles on women. Which neatly segues into the other news, which is that I just bought tickets to see the new Bond movie at 10 o´clock tonight. Jackers.

The Concept is the Concept

I checked out the cult Spanish movie "Airbag" the other day. A very poor man's snatch indeed. Give it a miss.

HU'S ON FIRST

(We take you now to the Oval Office.) George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening? Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China. George: Great. Lay it on me. Condi: Hu is the new leader of China. George: That's what I want to know. Condi: That's what I'm telling you. George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China? Condi: Yes. George: I mean the fellow's name. Condi: Hu. George: The guy in China. Condi: Hu. George: The new leader of China. Condi: Hu. George: The Chinaman! Condi: Hu is leading China. George: Now whaddya' asking me for? Condi: I'm telling you Hu is leading China. George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China? Condi: That's the man's name. George: That's who's name? Condi: Yes. George: Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new leader of China? Condi: Yes, sir. George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he was in the Middle East. Condi: That's correct. George: Then who is in China? Condi: Yes, sir. George: Yassir is in China? Condi: No, sir. George: Then who is? Condi: Yes, sir. George: Yassir? Condi: No, sir. George: Look, Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get me the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone. Condi: Kofi? George: No, thanks. Condi: You want Kofi? George: No. Condi: You don't want Kofi. George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N. Condi: Yes, sir. George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N. Condi: Kofi? George: Milk! Will you please make the call? Condi: And call who? George: Who is the guy at the U.N? Condi: Hu is the guy in China. George: Will you stay out of China?! Condi: Yes, sir. George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N. Condi: Kofi. George: All right! With cream and two sugars. Now get on the phone. (Condi picks up the phone.) Condi: Rice, here. George: Rice? Good idea. And a couple of egg rolls, too. Maybe we should send some to the guy in China. And the Middle East. Can you get Chinese food in the Middle East? By James Sherman

Congratulations to my father, today awarded the Order of the British Empire for his work in the education of the hearing impaired. Proud of you Dad.

Just spent two hours trapped in a recurring loop between two toilets at work, both marked “Out of order. Please use next cubicle”, before finally being dragged away by one of the janitors.

Thong with a picture of pancakes on the front. I like this, because as some of you may know, I like to eat pancakes.

Spent the weekend on a lastminute.com special in Brussels. The purpose of the trip was to allow April to renew her student visa on the way back in, but also to get a break from London. After several previous trips to Brussels visiting Sharky, I’d always had a soft spot for a town many decry as being basically uninteresting, but after this visit, I’m starting to see what they mean. It just wasn’t the same without Sharks around to show us about. Grey weather, rude waiters, hotel 2 miles walk out of town — we just never quite got it right this time. One day into the weekend and we were at a loss for something to do. The fact that I’d bought new shoes and had blisters from the long walk to and from the hotel didn’t help the mood. Even the beer seemed too strong — at around 8% alcohol, after two or three, you'd had enough, leaving the long, grey afternoon stretching away from you with the option of either getting extremely pissed or going back out to stand in the rain while you wondered which uninviting, over–formal restaurant to venture into for dinner. All in all, I don’t think I’ll be rushing back. The good news; April got the visa.

Seems like I haven’t contributed anything to this site for a while. Just haven’t got much to say at the moment. I note that in my absence it’s getting all football. So I thought that in the absence of any new content, I would at least devise a new look for the site — click the radio button at the bottom of the navigation bar.

Darren Anderton?

Whilst browsing a football website (to check the review of the Newcastle game last night), I came across a schoolboy-type debate as to "Who is the hardest player ever to play in the Premier Legaue?" Amongst the usual culprits of Keane, Dicks, Schmeichel, Jones etc., were arguments for Batty ("eccentric in the extreme, drives a transit van rather than a sports car, used to get up and help his dad on bin round, even when he was a pro player") and Cantona ("even Keano wasn't interested when Eric wanted to go and mix it with the Turkish coppers"). Interestingly enough though, two of the most favoured candidates were forwards - Mick Harford and Duncan Ferguson - whereas traditionally, it always seemed that the hardmen were central defenders and midfielders (like Harris, Hunter, Bremner etc). Am sure Banderama can suggest some obscure candidates...

Darwin (the Great Briton, not the Australian rubbish tip)

I've been thinking about Darwin quite a bit recently. Not sure why. Probably something to do with the fact he's been on telly recently for this "100 Greatest Britons" programme. Anyway, it got me to thinking why survival of the fittest doesn't really seem to apply to birds. Probably not the subject to discuss on a public forum where I'm open to all sorts of accusations. Catch me down the pub and I'll expand on my theories.

Interesting Times

Roy it seems was right all along, and even took the advice of those who told him to avoid a confrontation in the Kippax Street on Saturday. It's a good thing he did because his colleagues' ears will still be ringing. 11 visitors to our shores, managed by a potato from space, beat the artists formerly known as Man Utd, and pretty handily. Gary Neville is a blue eh? We'll see my lads, we´ll see.

Haven’t you heard of Baines & Ernst?

Everyone used to be a County swimmer.

You've made it...

...in the consumer society when you've got vitamin E (and aloe vera) enriched toilet paper.

They love him up there

I hope your hearts were warmed as mine was by the tremendous reception given to Mr Diego Forlan on his belated appearance for work last week, and then again on Saturday. I was listening on Century Radio and was amazed. It seems that the curmudgeonly, spoilt and rapidly becoming bitter fans of Manchester United have taken to the little chap. Which is nice, since he looks just like my friend Bandy.

Casa Buena

Smoked a huge fat cigar Saturday night from the Canary Islands. Wasn’t the strongest tasting thing you would ever get between your fingers but it got shorter with minimal effort, needed no reminder of what fire looked and felt like and was an all round pleasant experience (admittedly aided by its friend Mr Single Malt). Neither did I have any regrets late at night or Sunday morning, which considering this sucker’s size (as I already alluded, it was big and fat) was not a gimme.