Aliche's handcuffs
Young Aliche - an advertising copywriter and former resident of Folkestone, who's running the Marathon - tells me about a snippet of conversation she overheard up west today.

She walked past some guy on Mortimer Street who was saying "I mean why don't you just buy the handcuffs?"

Mmmm.

I'm sure there's a very logical explanation. Remember, Aliche couldn't hear the other end of the conversation or the preceding remarks.

I reckon it might have gone something like this:

"Yes, guv, I've made enquiries about the baton rounds and CS gas, but our procurement budget won't stretch to them at this stage in the financial year. The Chief Super says we have £50 and that's only going to cover a couple of pairs of handcuffs..."

"Well, get on with it then...."

"Eh, guv?"

"I mean why don't you just buy the handcuffs?"

Aliche of Folkestonia at www.bloggersnipple.co.uk
More snippets of conversation at www.overheardinnewyork.com
My home page at www.philwoodford.com
03.02.06 @ 03:41 PM PDT [link]

Eye test on the Jubilee Line
There was a bloke sitting next to me today between Baker Street and Waterloo who spent the whole trip studying a refund voucher he'd received from an optician. It was almost as if he couldn't believe he'd got his £44 back and had to keep double checking.

Or maybe the reason he got the refund is that his eyesight hadn't improved. And it took him from Baker Street to Waterloo to work out that he had, in fact, got his £44 back.

I despaired when he turned over the sheet and started reading the small print. I mean, the tube maps and the obstructing the doors notices are more interesting than that stuff.
03.02.06 @ 03:32 PM PDT [link]

Final Final
Those readers who pass through central London regularly will know that there are a number of editions of the Standard newspaper. One - the "West End Final" - doesn't make it out to the sticks. Newsagents in Bracknell and suchlike have to make do with "City Prices" or "Late Prices".

Anyway, recently I've heard a couple of vendors in town announcing the later versions of the WEF as the "Final Final".

Where will it all end? What if another, unexpected edition came out with some late, breaking news? Would it be the "Final Final Final"?

I'm thinking enough finals already. And that's final. End of.


03.02.06 @ 03:28 PM PDT [link]

Channel 830 on Telewest
The stars of Deutsche Welle - a news and lifestyle channel beloved of Mrs W - are very odd. They present news about Germany from Berlin. But they do it in English, speaking with American and Australian accents. Some of the main anchors look like remote-controlled mannequins who could have walked off the set of a 1960s US news broadcast.

Every hour, the language changes. Sixty minutes of German, allowing the Mrs to polish up her language skills. And then an hour of English. And, for a very confusing period, there was even an hour of Spanish.

Watching German news in Spanish from London is very weird indeed, believe me.

That's it for tonight. Adios. Auf wiedersehen. Laters innit.
02.28.06 @ 04:38 PM PDT [link]

You are what you eat
Gillian McKeith's truly revolting TV series, You are what you eat, has surely come to the end of its natural life. As far as I'm concerned, Gill, we've moved through the starters and main course and are now firmly on the Snickers Pie dessert. After coffee, it will be bye-bye to your colonic irrigations, "whose poo?" sessions and embarrassingly staged lectures.

At least, in my dreams it will be. But they were advertising for people to participate in the next series tonight.


02.28.06 @ 04:30 PM PDT [link]

The ultimate cop out: Monday's shameful ending to Life on Mars
I know that I've blown hot and cold about the BBC's time-travelling romp. On many occasions, I've been frustrated by the sheer chron-illogical stupidity of it all. But I've also found myself cheering the joie de vivre of the show and the fun they've had with all the period detail.

There is no doubt, however, that Monday's episode was the very worst of the lot. We knew the writers had to pave the way for a second season, so I kind of assumed that we'd be left in some doubt about what had happened or where the ill-fated DI Sam Tyler was heading next. Now, it seems, that the goody-two-shoes copper is destined to follow his namesake Sam from Quantum Leap - endlessly searching for a trip home. (Scott Bakula flipped out of his accelerator in 1989 and was still jumping into other people's bodies in 1993.)

Sam Tyler has the advantage of staying in his own body. He also has a love-interest WPC or 'plonk' in the parlance of early 70s Manchester. Nevertheless, he's not having a good time with the business of getting out of his coma. In the last couple of episodes, he's reckoned that if he does something momentous - like destroying the reputation of his bent colleagues or stopping his murderous father leaving home when Sam was just a nipper - then he'll be propelled into an NHS ward circa 2006, complete with smiling neurologists and MRSA. It hasn't happened.

If I were a writer on the show, I'd be seriously worried. The few obvious devices for getting the hero out of his mess have been tried and found wanting. It's going to be very hard going in season two, which is happening precisely one year in the future.
02.28.06 @ 04:19 PM PDT [link]