Sinister: Got drunk at the top of the Eiffel Tower...

[Alasdair Cook MC1996]

I'm sure they did. Well done to France for a spectacular (if slightly
fortunate) Euro 2000 win. Have to feel slightly sorry for Italy, and
very sorry indeed for Mark Cassarotto, for reasons of heritage and
finances. Poor boy.

In a bizzare link, I had a dream last night in which aliens invaded the
Earth, and based themsleves in France. I'm sure I had exactly the same
dream years ago, possibly it's something to to with me feeling a bit
ill. My mum thinks I'll probably get shingles. That would be nice.
Anyway, the aliens did cunning things like phoning up pretending to be
my mum, telling us to lower our defences, but I wasn't having any of it.
Then they turned back time, so they'd have more time to plan an attack,
or something. But while reviewing the dream after waking up, I realised
that they'd actually truned time forward, which would be no use at all.
Another interesting dream ruined by my subconcious' lack of arithmetical
skills. Oh, and I also dreamt that I got a big tattoo, then said to
someone today how this was strange because I would never DREAM of
getting a big tattoo. Then realised I had. What am I talking about? I
think I'll write a poem instead.

The sky is blue
You might need a poo
If you eat lots of fibre
Or you could just read a libre.

Hmm, that wasn't very good, and my French is probably wrong. Or baaaaad.
And it doesn't ryhme. And it has poo in it, which no-one should have
thrust upon them. But I'll continue anyway, because Rachel said:

> They were, to
> borrow a classmate's phrase, "the shit". 

People very often refer to me as "the shit", with optional variations
(stupid, annoying etc). I never realised it was a compliment before.
Hey, I'm popular!
Here's another poem.

The Fourth of July
Kind of passed me by
Since I'm not American
And I don't own a pelican
But that's of no relevance.

Talking of Rachels, as I just was, I keep forgetting to plug my good
friend (and former fragrant listee) Rachel Playforth's fine (apart from
the stuff by me, oh dear) web-zine. Nice Peter Miller mentioned it as
the last bastion of creativity (or some such other phrasing) left on the
web, but didn't give the address. It's www.buzzwords.org.uk. Please
please please send your contributions in (buzzwords at bigfoot.com), they
honestly can't be worse than mine.

And talking of Peter (Christ my links are superb today), he said:
> I recently read that "deja vu" is usually the result of brain disease

Oh come now Peter, how could something as wonderfully hippy as "Almost
cut my hair", or even "Our House" come from minds which were anything
less than lucid. You talk pish, son.

Elenita, picnic goddess:
> in case you can't reach me, Mr Martin Robinson himself 
> will be please to answer your queries (not as nicely as I would though) on 
> 07968 369985
 
To all you potential picnicers (not me, unfortunately). Please, please,
don't phone Martin Robinson, you'll only make him think he's important.
Which he isn't. At all. He'll likely turn into a Picnic Kaiser again. Or
something.

No gigs til 2001!. Katrina, how can one so lovely utter stuff so poo?
The Sodastream album is quite nice though. And so are they, so you
should probably buy it.

Tennis news: 12000 bottles of Champagne are downed at Wimbledon each
year. Mostly by Mr Dokic, by the sounds of things.

I've had enough of you people. Or I'm hungry. One of the two, anyway.
You go disco and I'll go my way. Alright? That's my view, anyway. What?
Bye.

Ally xx
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