So I failed to win or even run up in
the ask.com blog awards. I found out with an email from my webmaster, Rob as I was sitting in the lobby of my hotel in Milano. Wireless internet is changing the world! Spreading disappointing news in its wake. Congratulations to the winners
hecklerspray, who had been sporting enough to email earlier in the week and wish me luck. So I was glad it was them that won it and they do seem genuinely delighted. Not even being second best is a bit of a kick in the face though. Alan McGee is clearly a clueless cunt. Unless he happens to be judging again next year, in which case he's a lovely man who had to make a tough decision. But honestly, how could he not realise that I am the best?! Nice to be nominated. Be nicer to win. You know, I imagine.
Still on the plus side it means I don't have to try so hard to be good now. I've really been putting some effort in. Have you noticed? Alan McGee didn't. The twart!
So I am slacking off today, because all I care about is awards, not entertaining you. You are all idiots as well. You should be reading
the one by the Sessions. It's better than mine. And that's official!
Back to Londra today and I have to say that it felt like weeks since I had been here, rather than the three or four days it has actually been. I flew EasyJet, the flight costing about the same as the taxi ride to the airport and the train ride back into town combined. On EasyJet you don't get allocated a seat, but are boarded in groups and you can then sit wherever you like. Apparently some people pay a bit more to end up in the first group and of course people with kids or disabilities go through first. This advantage was somewhat negated by the fact that everyone then boarded a bus to take us to the aeroplane, so we all arrived at the same time and whoever was nearest the doors got to get on the plane first. I would have been annoyed if I had paid more to get on first. But there was plenty of room on the plane anyway.
We flew over the Alps which looked pretty impressive, though not particularly snowy and then over the uniform fields of agricultural France, tesselating together in vivid greens and browns. It was in stark contrast to the less regimented English fields that I was to see within the hour, but it was comforting to see the higgeldy-piggeldy pastures of my homeland, even if the girls are ugly here and the pizza is not as good and you don't get free food for buying a drink. I still love you though England. It was good to be back.
I went for a drink with TV's Emma Kennedy,
who is getting broody and who I foolishly joked about having a child with (cos no-one else is going to impregnate the mawkish harpy). I think she took it all a bit seriously and so I am going to have to watch where I leave my gametes from now on, in case she is lurking around the corner with a turkey baister, ready to create a Frankingstein monster made up of the genetic material of the two of us. No child deserves that start to life.
But it's good to have a back-up in case of emergency I suppose, even though she is right, there is no chance of us procreating if we have to do the whole thing in the same room. I can't believe I am even giving the thing any thought. There are too many people in the world as it is. And this is a subject that is as serious as rabies. It's not going to happen Kennedy. Leave my gametes alone.
