Wednesday, April 12, 2006



I want to go on Countdown. I like to think I'm reasonably clever. But I know, deep down and with a certain degree of sadness that I know I'd be entirely rubbish at it. I would spend my time ogling Susie from dictionary corner, and beating off C. Vorderman with my biggest, shittiest stick.

The problem is this: I just cannot do anagrams - my brain is just not wired up that way. My name is - apparently - an anagram of "I claim to Arsenal", which is nice, but I needed the internets to work that out. Instead, I just spend the thirty seconds game time trying to find swears.

Des: "So, how many letters - Doris?"

Doris of Neasden: "I'll go for an eight, Des."

Des (pleasantly surprised): "Oh! Let's hear your eight, then."

Doris: "Shearing"

The luscious, pouting Susie Dent: "Yes, that's in the dictionary. Well done."

Des: "And Scary?"

Me: "Arse."

Des: "And Scary wins again. I'll never understand this new swear bonus rule."

C. Vorderman (frotting herself against the numbers board whilst rearranging all her financial commitments into one, easy-to-manage monthly payment): "Oh, Scary, you're so lush."

S. Dent: "Bugger off Vorderman, you slattern. I saw him first."

Then I woke up, and my pillow was missing.

I'd get all the questions wrong on 'Deal or no Deal' an' all. But then, I'd just know I'd have the one box in ten thousand.

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