Non-hoopy towel woe
The new series of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy currently on Radio4 has launched me into a frenzy of activity. Not only am I once more obsessed with the creation of the perfect cup of tea - which Douglas Adams, God rest his soul, was the first to theorise is impossible once the ingredients are removed from the British Isles - but I am also engaged in a study of Bistromatics which has seen my weight go through the roof in my quest to prove Craddock's Trans-dimensional Plum Duff Theory of Vectored Dried Fruit.
The one thing that has really taken over my life, though, is my urgent need for a new towel, the most basic tool for any Hitchhiker. My current towel is a disgrace, and with all our local shops now selling nothing but shoes, getting a new one is tougher that Jeremy Clarkson's skull.
I have a desperate need for a replacement - it is far too small, there are threads hanging out everywhere, and it possesses all the nutritional value of a McD's Happy Meal. This is not good. It's only saving grace is its calming shade of dark green, handy if I need to camouflage a very small part of my body.
I need a towel now - preferably M&S, but Debenham's will do at a push, as the Interstellar by-pass is due any day now. Your gift of love will be greatly appreciated, seconds before it is pissed up the wall on bathroom consumables.
The Buy-Scaryduck-a-new-towel Appeal grand total to date: 0.00
Whose duck is it anyway?
Yesterday saw my participation in a work-sponsored comedy workshop. I am now world famous in my place of work, after taking part in genuine improv comedy with a genuine Comedy Store Improv Comedian, who I accused of "staring at my bra".
Neil Mullarkey: What's in your fridge?
Unimaginative collegues: Milk! Food! Nothing!
Me: Half a Jehovah's Witness.
Mullarkey: Where's the other half?
Me: Did you eat in our staff canteen today?
I aim to use these l33t comedy skills in my everyday work. Somehow.