Sinister: Febuary made me shiver...

[Alasdair Cook MC1996]

Ole! I can't do the accent.

I gat soonshine, und a clouody dey
Ven it's could autside, I gat ze mounth ov Mey.

If we can land a man on the moon, surely we can bring back John Belushi.

Now then, what was I saying?

Ah, yes.

Lixi's back, Ailsa's got engaged (but ISN'T up the spout), everything's
right with the world. I feel there's a pretty good chance of Struan
singing at the wedding as by the time it eventually happens he'll be an
old has-been doing the chicken-in-a-basket holiday camp cabaret circuit,
and will take any job that's offered. Sing us the old hits, Stuart! Cat
down the pub, la la la...

J.D. (does anyone else hate it when they give you that instead of real
whisky? And charge you more? Bastards) :

> I challenge anyone to relate an anecdote as alarming as Juicy
> Luicy's. Alisdair, you're hard, you must have some tales to tell.

Well, not being hard at all (in fact being a complete cowardly custard), 
and being a good-natured soul I have done
my best all my life to avoid physical confrontations. The one exception,
as seems the trend here, is with my brother, who due to his annoying
nature in his formative years (though less so now, thankfully), I would
scrap with approximately 14 times a day. Due to me being generally
older and bigger, this would usually end up with him being thrown
against walls, into the bathtub, out windows etc. We usually get along
fine now, as being about the same size (ie not very small) the truth is 
that instigating a proper fight nowadays would leave both of us with
actual real bodily damage, and would probably wreck the house as well. 

So I'm afraid I have no stories to tell of my hardness. Actually, hang
on a minute, there was that time I attacked a nun with a fence post
for looking at my pint, but that's really of no interest. I mean I
attended the funeral, what more did they want? 



Mark:
> Honey was spot on. I could buy you all, easy. Being a billionaire's a laugh
> a minute - Over the weekend I philanthropically repaid the national debt of
> San Salvador, and this morning I bankrolled Osama Bin Laden for the next
> decade, and on Thursday I'm having Peter Miller flown over to Putney to give
> me the best oral relief north of the Sierra Nevada. Ah, this is the life...
 

And that's not all, I'm afraid. Mark can often be seen being driven up
and down the streets of London in his pink Rolls, by his driver Porker,
throwing digestive biscuits at homeless people and screaming "WHY DON'T
YOU ALL GET A JOB, YOU DISGUSTING SMELLY FILTHY PROLES! AND DON'T TRY
EATING THOSE DIGESTIVES, I PUT RAT POISION ON THEM!" All the while
Porker says "Yes m'lud, of course m'lud. More digestives, m'lud?",
before driving Mark back to his luxury apartment in Chipping Peagrove.

Some of this may not be true. But he does have a porker in his pink
rolls.

Jim said billionaires can't be nerds, but did anyone see Bill Gates on
TV the other day,
joining up with Richard Branson to conquer the world like in Risk or
something? Now I'm no fashion expert, but you'd think the richest man in
the world could invest in better jumpers.

Which reminds me of a joke:
Q: What do you get if you cross a sheep and a kangaroo?
A: A sound beating.

There has been some rather disturbing talk recently of people being
tempted to drive cars off bridges/into trees etc, all of which reminded
me of the very funny scene in the best movie ever (Annie Hall, like you
didn't know) featuring Chris Walken in possibly his first film, and
Woody Allen:

Duane (Chris): I tell you this because, as an artist, 
               I think you'll understand.  Sometimes 
               when I'm driving ... on the road at night
               ... I see two headlights coming toward me.  
               Fast.  I have this sudden impulse to turn 
               the wheel quickly, head-on into the 
               oncoming car.  I can anticipate the 
               explosion.  The sound of shattering glass.  
               The ... flames rising out of the flowing 
               gasoline.

Alvy (Woody): (Reacting and clearing his throat) 
               Right.  Tsch, well, I have to-I have 
               t-o go now, Duane, because I-I'm due 
               back on the planet earth. 


Scott:
> I sort of measure 
> how much I must like the girl in question by how horrible whatever we do is.
>  I really liked this girl a lot, once. The proof lies in the fact that we 
> saw "Speed" together. I endured Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock for her.

Pretty impressive. Why only last summer I endured "Notting Hill" to be
with a girl I liked. Are Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts more annoying than
Keanu and Sandra? It's close. However, I did get her to come and see
"Last Night" with me, so it was almost worth the torture of seeing the
floppy-haired one in action.

Reading Robin's account of what he think Nick Dastoor does at work has
suddenly put the idea into my head of Nick as Mickey Mouse in Fantasia.
You should try it, it's very funny. I wish everyone to call him Nicky
Mouse from this point onwards, if only for my own amusement.

I also have to reiterate the points made by Stevie and Mouse about
Wonderland being fantastic. It also has a brilliant soundtrack, which
could almost say makes the film.

I'm quite excited this week, as I'm finally going to get to see VIC
GODARD after months of waiting after his last gig here was cancelled.
Also I was called a freak the other night, but in a good way. It left me
smiling, anyway. It was because I'd heard of the band the guying talking
to me was in, Tacoma Radar. Apparently they were on John Peel last week,
I don't know if anyone heard them. 

Right, enough, the men are here again. Don't they know white coats are
out of fashion?

Alasdair xx

"He's a softly spoken tiger in a sea of pussycats."
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