almost witty

Heading back south from Glasgow towards Newcastle, I find that another new train operator has taken over from GNER - National Express. Thankfully it’s a much plusher train, with wood panel tables, comfy (albeit beige) seats, and more importantly free Wi-Fi. Score!

Then I put my knees up and suddenly find my trousers covered in chewing gum. On an ostensibly new train. Oh dear.

Update: Heard it on 6 December. Hurrah. Christmas can now officially start!

Despite having spent the last three days trotting around all the shopping centres that Manchester and Cheshire have to offer - in the hunt for a new pair of spectacles actually! - and spending countless hours on shopping websites, I still don’t quite feel that Christmassy.

It’s partly because I’m still a bit ill so instead of rich mince pies I’m mostly craving plain jacket potatoes - and half-dreading the 12-hour drink fest that is the annual works Christmas party this weekend with special mystery guest star.

But it’s mostly because despite all the driving around and listening to the radio at work all day, I still haven’t yet heard The Fairytale of New York by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. The definitive bitter-sweet Christmas tune, and one that never fails to give me Christmassy memories, such as snow falling on an American car park. Ahhh, snow, where have you gone?

Has it been taken off mainstream UK radio? Has it now been deemed too unChristmassy? Is there a mass conspiracy behind its’ disappearance off UK Radio? Or is it just me?

When I first started drinking as a professional young urbanite, Stella Artois was one of my usual beers of choice, in the absence of any other compelling options (well, it was Fosters for a while before I had a terrible night on them). It tasted alright, and its’ advertising association with European film didn’t hurt either.

I do however recall that when I first went to a Cardiff pub in 2001, my request for a Stella was generally poo-poo’ed upon by my mate at the bar. I wasn’t too sure why - maybe it was too pretentious a beer for Cardiff perhaps?

Fast forward to November 2007, and of all sources, it’s the BBC’s Newsnight that informs me that Stella Artois is now in fact the beer of choice for your average young drunkard out to cause trouble and trip over innocent cyclists. But when did this happen? and why?

They speculate that it may well be due to the high alcohol content of the beer - which would help to explain my inability to stand by the bar all night.

It’s Halloween again, which means another invitation to a fancy-dress party. While I love parties (dude!), I really do hate dressing up. Primarily because it never works.

A couple of years ago, I attended a veritable series of stag nights which involved fancy dress. Invariably, I’d hire a costume (Austin Powers, Al Capone) for the evening only to feel incredibly uncomfortable for the entire night and no-one’d recognise me anyway. Indeed, when I wore an Al Capone-esque 1930s outfit, people assumed I was dressed up as Odd Job instead.

I’ve been cordially invited to a neighbour’s Halloween party this weekend, but the dress code is fancy dress. And I have absolutely no idea what to wear, or indeed how to wear it. The last time I went to a works Halloween party, I stupidly dressed up as Doctor Who (ie a leather jacket with a scarf - an amalgamation of the fourth and ninth regeneration). A month later, I was made redundant. Coincidence?

So … got any ideas?