The Befouled Weakly News
14 September 2008 Wow! A fun-filled and action-packed week to thrill you with this weekend. Work, work, work and then two outings on two successive days – one to the hairdresser’s and one to the cinema. Does it get any better than this? On Wednesday afternoon I finished a bit early at the school I was working with and so, on my way through Banbury on the drive home, I decided to visit my favourite hairdressing emporium, Ralph and Tony’s. Many, many, many years ago, when I actually had some hair to be proud of, I visited Ralph and Tony on a somewhat regular basis and they always did a fine job at keeping my tresses looking sensational (or so I always imagined). They have now retired (as has my hair, I guess) and although there is less and less of it to keep under control, I still need to visit once every six to eight weeks, the business now being run by one of their sons, Dominic. (Not that Ralph and Tony were a couple who sired a son; Dominic is the son of one of them but I don’t know which one). A trip to the hairdresser is probably not the earth shattering news you have come to expect to encounter in the Befouled Weakly News but when I was being finished off there occurred one of those “epiphanic” moments. It’s one of those incidents everyone one of us is familiar with, I would guess – the moment when the barber finishes the trimming and collects his mirror from its resting place, holding it up so that you can see the splendid job he has done on the back of your head. Now, I have to confess I had never thought of this before but surely this is about the only time one ever see the backs of one’s head. Occasionally in particularly poorly composed photographs, I suppose but generally speaking, the back of our head is something which is only seen by others. Which begs the question – what do I care? If I am not going to see the back of my head do I really care what it looks like? For all I know, he might have carved “This slap head is an idiot” in what remains of the foliage at the back of my cranium and, if he hadn’t held up his mirror so that I could inspect his handiwork, I would be none the wiser. I appreciate that others have to see the back of my head from time to time but frankly it is of little interest to me. Another question – why does it cost as much to cut my hair nowadays when I have so little? And why does someone with a full head of hair pay essentially the same price as me? Perhaps they could weigh the hair they cut off and charge you accordingly. Apart from the excitement of a haircut, Ms Playchute and I had a night on the town on Thursday evening – we went to the Banbury fleapit and watched the film The Duchess with Kiera Knightley. I can’t remember the last time we saw a film at the Banbury cinema nor what it was and we probably would not have gone to see this one. However, for participating in a free four week trial of a DVD rental scheme we received two vouchers for free cinema tickets. (Don’t worry – I cancelled the subscription before we ended up paying for anything and during the free trial we did get to see a handful of pretty good films. With two free cinema tickets how could you go wrong?). I enjoyed the Duchess – a lavish costume drama from the BBC (and my goodness, if they know anything, the BBC does know how to produce lavish costume dramas). The film is about the wretched married life of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, married at seventeen to William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Devonshire for the principle purpose of producing a male heir. Georgiana was a Spencer as was Princess Diana so the similarities between the two marriages are obvious as, in some ways, is the character of the two women, both in many ways more outgoing and popular than their husbands. (Just to show how inbred the British Royal family continues to be, Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York and former wife of Prince Andrew, is a descendent of the child Georgiana had as a result of her relationship with Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl Grey). While it’s almost always good fun going out to the cinema (probably because of the infrequency of the opportunities), Thursday night is clearly “ladies” night at the cinema. The place was packed with groups of women – I think we counted three men in the audience. I can tell you that there was many an envious eye as Ms Playchute strolled out of the cinema with such a handsome, well-groomed gentleman at her side. The following, from the BBC website, explains a lot, I think:
As I said, I think that explains a lot! Love to you all, Greg Three railroad workers, a Chinese man, an Italian, and a redneck, are all sitting down to lunch. The Chinese man says, "If I get another egg roll in my lunch, I'll kill myself." The Italian guy says, "If I get another slice of pizza, I'll kill myself." The redneck says, "Iffin I get another ham hock, I'll kill myself." The next day, all three men get the same lunches, so they throw themselves in front of an oncoming train. At the funeral the Chinese man's wife says, "If only I hadn't packed an egg roll that day." The Italian guy's wife says, "If only I hadn't packed a slice of pizza that day." "Don't look at me," says the redneck's wife. "He always done packed his own vittles." A woman announces to her friend that she is getting married for the fourth time. "How wonderful! But I hope you don't mind me asking what happened to your first husband?" "He ate poisonous mushrooms and died." "Oh, how tragic! What about your second husband?" "He ate poisonous mushrooms too and died." "Oh, how terrible! I'm almost afraid to ask you about your third husband." "He died of a broken neck." "A broken neck?" "He wouldn't eat the mushrooms." This may be a bit crude for some of your taste; if you are easily offended look away now! The smaller crocodile turned to the bigger one & said, 'I can't understand how you can be so much bigger than me. We're the same age; we were the same size as kids. I just don't get it.' 'Well,' said the big Croc, 'what have you been eating?' 'Politicians, same as you,' replied the small Croc. 'Hmm. Well, where do you catch them?' 'Down the other side of the swamp near the parking lot by the Capitol.' 'Same here. Hmm. How do you catch them?' 'Well, I crawl up under one of their Lexus cars & wait for one to unlock the car door. Then I jump out, grab them by the leg, shake the shit out of them & eat 'em!' 'Ah!' says the big Crocodile, 'I think I see your problem. You're not getting any real nourishment. See, by the time you finish shaking the shit out of a politician, there's nothing left but an asshole and a briefcase.' Back to Greg's Temporary Home Page
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Sharing a bed with someone could temporarily reduce your brain power - at least if you are a man - Austrian scientists suggest.