My Life as a Boozy Oaf

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A Bit of a Quiet Week, Rightly

The Oddest Things

So, I was walking through suburban Edinburgh the other day when a small child started screaming. For once not at me. This little girl, at most six and carrying her shoes in her hands, was screaming at a dog. It was a mongrel terrier sort which had been minding its own business, having a light stroll, that sort of thing. But then this child started screaming the word 'Ska!' at it in a continuous, high pitched, panicky way. 'Ska! Ska! Ska!' I thought to begin with the dog was about to be run over. But it was just stood there in the middle of the street, tail between its legs and a look of abject terror on its face. And then she ran at the dog. And it bolted. She chased it all the way down the row of shops, 'Ska! Ska! Ska!', and it ran as if its life depended on it. Finally the dog disappeared up a close swiftly followed by the still screaming child.

I can't say I blame the dog myself, I would run from anyone with such an unhealthy interest in obscure musical genres too.


I am currently reading PORNO, which, for those of you with minds in the gutter, is a novel by Irvine Welsh. It is actually a sequel to Trainspotting and so is compulsory reading for all Scots. I have actually owned this book for almost a year now and have only just got around to reading it. This is because I mostly read on the train. Hence I felt very self-conscious about standing around on a train holding up a large red book with a picture of a blow up doll on the front and the title PORNO. I am fairly certain it is illegal to do this in Surrey. The only reading material allowed on a Nodnol commuter train appears to be broadsheets, copies of Gardeners World Magazine and Harry Potter novels. Anyhoo, whatever is the truth PORNO is not encouraged. Up here it still elicits some funny looks, but most of them then turn into smiling recognition. So, whatever else you can say about Edinburgh, at least you can read PORNO on the train1.

Works Night

Last week I went on a works night out, drank copiously from six, finally left the pub at three, stupidly got up at half six the next morning and have absolutely no memory of anything interesting happening at all. I believe if Carlsberg made works nights out they would be just like that.

Next Time - *Yawn!!!*

My Life as a Boozy Oaf



02.10.03 Front Page

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1Are you, by any chance, trying to increase your readership by dint of more hits from the search engine Munchkin? smiley - winkeye... ed.

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