Last night, rap fans, I dropped ‘some lyrics’ (said some rhyming things) about my day and invited the interested to guess what had ‘gone down’ (happened) in my ‘hood (near me). Here are the solutions. Normal, non-poetic bloggage will resume tomorrow as we enter Week One of the Grand Watsonian Tour 2010-11.
Didn’t see Horne, looked at no porn. Pretty straightforward: we were talking about meeting up with good old Alex Horne, who was in London, but it didn’t quite happen. I didn’t download any porn because not only am I married, but I don’t tend to find most porn very sexy.
A cow in a packet; upstairs is a racket. Kit is now eating packets of pureed food which are called things like ‘beef, peppers and onions in a rich sauce’, even though they basically just look like sludgy brown toothpaste. This raises the slightly disturbing possibility of a cow somehow being liquidised and packeted up. Upstairs live two noisy boys who were charging about and making our light fittings shake. I’m flattered by the person who guessed that it was Kit ‘upstairs’ making a noise, but we don’t yet have the sort of life where we can have an ‘upstairs’ which isn’t part of someone else’s flat.
Bought 100 books; got two funny looks. This is true, oddly, but they were (as someone guessed) my own books. I am selling copies of ‘Eleven’ after my tour shows, and (for boring reasons) this is done by me or my tour management buying them, and us then re-selling them. This means I had the odd experience of ordering 100 copies of my own work from Amazon. The two funny looks were on the tube, and unrelated to this (most likely, related to my 8/10 Cats appearance; being on TV gets you quite a few looks for a few days afterwards).
Watched sport from Australia; my team is a failure. The two parts of these were separate, actually. I got up at 6 to watch the Aussie Rules Grand Final, as Joelle guessed. But ‘my team’ refers to Bristol City, who, at present, are awful. And are now bottom of the table. Which, for non-fans, is bad.
Ditched a terrible bag; saw a man smoke a fag. The bag was one we bought in China in 2008, but had long outstayed its welcome. I actually saw a number of people smoking, and was only too pleased to seize the rhyming opportunity. Mind you, you don’t see as much smoking as you used to. In our lifetimes it will become quite rare, I think.
Appeared on the air; two apprentices stared. I was on Absolute Radio with Ian ‘Wrighty’ Wright, former ace footballer and now garrulous broadcaster. On the underground there, I noticed two people looking at me (again). They recognised me. However, I also recognised THEM. They were two contestants from last year’s Apprentice (the Geordie guy, and the blonde lady who nearly won it, if you watched The Apprentice). We had a nice moment as the guy said ‘where do I know you from? Mock The Week?’ and I blurted out ‘you were on the bloody Apprentice!’ (Although I don’t watch a lot of TV, I get hooked every year on this show. It’s great watching over-serious people compete for a job.)
I played bass for Feeder. As many of you sleuths guessed, this was not strictly true. The closest I’ve come to appearing with Feeder is seeing them at Reading 2000 (that’s right, 2000, before some of you were potty-trained. Sigh). Also, the lead singer lives near me, and now and again we cross paths while walking with our respective kids, and give each other a friendly look. Like the imaginary friendly look I’m giving you now for reading this. Bye.