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‘Irish Dancing’. It’s a dance of two distinct requirements, in which one’s legs must move as quickly and violently as possible while one’s arms and torso act as if they have no idea this is going on.
Surveillance isn’t easy, though. You’ll need warm clothes, a camera with telephoto lens, two Thermos flasks (one for tea, t’other for wee) and for God’s sake remember your sandwiches.
I should have said earlier: I’ve named my walking boots Fernando and Denise, after my children – Fernando and Denise. It’s a corny little gesture, I know, but I take comfort in knowing they’re with me, and I smiled this morning as I forced my feet into their gaping mouths.
it warms the cockerels of my heart.
This is the same woman I once caught raising her hand when she wanted to make a bid on an eBay auction.
even the tiny ant who can carry weight equivalent to a human lifting – at a guess – sixty skyscrapers. ***
Under my breath I’ve been saying some pretty rotten things about Tony. They were just born of tiredness and hunger – of course I don’t want him to step on a landmine – but suddenly all is forgiven.
Sure, I can go to a Boots’s and pick up a regular toothbrush, but non-electric toothbrushes are so lame. FML, they blow. They suck serious shit.
PEOPLE HAVE ALWAYS ASKED ME, Why do you hate Edmonds?
The ‘Norwich Phil’ is what we call the Norwich Philharmonic Orchestra. We do that because by saying ‘Phil’ instead of ‘Philharmonic Orchestra’ we save ourselves time. Although by explaining that I’ve now lost time. And I’ll be honest, that’s irritated me.
LIONEL GORDON PARTRIDGE WAS my father. In my opinion, he always will be, although there are some who argue that dads stop being your father once they’re dead.
Like the old parlour game of patting your head while rubbing your balls, walking requires a real feat of co-ordination.
A radio station is a piece of precision engineering. It’s like a Swiss watch or a Segway.
Partridge looked her in the eye(s) and then gave her one of the best handshakes she’d ever had. And he went inside to be with the woman he was falling for, a receptionist by the name of Angela, which is Latin or Spanish for ‘angel’.
Later, people would say my decision to broadcast was crass and opportunistic. I simply say this: it was not. And also this: go shaft yourself.
stop and look up at the star-splattered sky. I can’t remember the names of the constellations, but I’m pretty sure one’s named after a ride at Alton Towers.
then, in what I must emphasise is a totally unsexual way, begin to lick out the empty ham packet,
I sometimes bark half-formed words in my sleep such as ‘horrrr’ or ‘stupen’.
‘You’ve got a welly on.’ For a terrible, terrible, terrible split second, I convince myself that a ‘welly on’ is pensioner slang for an erection.
