political incorrectness gone mad
'Night of the Rapemobile', blared a headline in a copy of Take a Break that was lying about in the coffee lounge at work. There's a word you don't see every day: Rapemobile. Like a piece of kit for a superhero who never got off the drawing board, thanks to those feminist critics.
The serious news was full of MP's expenses, which amusingly conformed to party lines (or were made to by sly journalists). Hence, a Tory MP was said to have claimed for cleaning out his moat and a Liberal Democrat for biscuits. Soon the only person fit to rule will be Joanna Lumley, but even she is far too busy importing gherkins into the country, or whatever it is she does.
(No, I'm being ingenuous there: I know who the Gherkins are really - soldiers who toughen up their green skins by bathing in vinegar, and who were of immense help to us during the cod war.)
It was Mat's 30th and we went round to Sunshine House, the Sadler pile (where this blog began, if I remember rightly) to celebrate it. Because the baby has not yet emerged it was touch and go whether Mat would even be there. A helium balloon on a string bobbed awkwardly about amidst the guests, saying '30' and looking like it might have functioned as a stand-in, had he failed to show. As it was, the balloon, when I first glimpsed it, was between Amanda's legs, like a primitive means of induction. Meanwhile Mat wandered around making tea, which is not - he said - what he expected to be up to on his 30th. 30 is going to be more than just a number for him - it really is going to catapult him into 'maturity', if that exists.
I don't envy him - even uncledom is too much for me. Just before the celebration I had been told to 'watch Heidi' by Bobs - only for a minute or so, but it was enough to make Justin laugh at the very idea of me managing even that. And yet I did watch her. I watched her as she played with the blowtorch and drank petrol. I'd never seen anything quite like it before.
The serious news was full of MP's expenses, which amusingly conformed to party lines (or were made to by sly journalists). Hence, a Tory MP was said to have claimed for cleaning out his moat and a Liberal Democrat for biscuits. Soon the only person fit to rule will be Joanna Lumley, but even she is far too busy importing gherkins into the country, or whatever it is she does.
(No, I'm being ingenuous there: I know who the Gherkins are really - soldiers who toughen up their green skins by bathing in vinegar, and who were of immense help to us during the cod war.)
It was Mat's 30th and we went round to Sunshine House, the Sadler pile (where this blog began, if I remember rightly) to celebrate it. Because the baby has not yet emerged it was touch and go whether Mat would even be there. A helium balloon on a string bobbed awkwardly about amidst the guests, saying '30' and looking like it might have functioned as a stand-in, had he failed to show. As it was, the balloon, when I first glimpsed it, was between Amanda's legs, like a primitive means of induction. Meanwhile Mat wandered around making tea, which is not - he said - what he expected to be up to on his 30th. 30 is going to be more than just a number for him - it really is going to catapult him into 'maturity', if that exists.
I don't envy him - even uncledom is too much for me. Just before the celebration I had been told to 'watch Heidi' by Bobs - only for a minute or so, but it was enough to make Justin laugh at the very idea of me managing even that. And yet I did watch her. I watched her as she played with the blowtorch and drank petrol. I'd never seen anything quite like it before.
posted by martin at 11:09 AM
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