I’ve got a new habit. I’ve been spending a lot of time listening to radio-freedom, broadcasting at various times throughout the week, but never better than on Monday nights between 10pm GMT and midnight, when the gloriously monikered Pimpdaddysupreme takes to the airwaves with a mixture of bootlegs, cut-up nonsense, and various other forms of copyright-threatening material. Lovely stuff.
Archive for June, 2002
I bet Willy Wonka didn’t have any of these at the chocolate factory. Mine’s a Creme De Menthe titty pop, please.
Fully deserved. Bollocks.
Some sections of the Italian media aren’t taking yesterday’s World Cup defeat terribly well.
I’d quite like to give up smoking. I managed it for four years once, without ever feeling like going back, then sadly started again for no reason and have struggled with the cigarette demons ever since. Perhaps I need to try the Nicolaxx anal suppository. Or perhaps not.
This is the best World Cup ever. Discuss.
I suspect that this may be an urban myth, as it’s the most distasteful (literally) way I’ve ever heard of anyone breaking off a relationship. Either that, or the guy must have really deserved it.
According to Forbes, London is a great place to be single. Amongst the many things on offer are clubs like Annabels and Tramp (where I might be lucky enough to run into Rod Stewart or one of the Rolling Stones). Apparently we jet off to Switzerland for winter weekends in Verbier, although country retreats are still very popular. Even our pubs are open longer and later. Our (the single person’s) biggest worries are real estate, with the average price per square foot for a flat being around $1,000 (about $200 more than a comparable pad in New York), and the cost of champagne in the city.
Sadly, the above description bares no resemblance to my own life whatsoever. Perhaps I’m just not in the Forbes demographic.
Craig had a birthday. England beat the Danes. We had a BBQ to celebrate both. I took the pictures.