I should go on Mythbusters, but maybe on a smaller budget. I mean, who needs to really know if a hugh-tensile rope snapping can cut a pig in half, or if sticking a stamp to a helicopter rotor will make it fly out of control (except bad novelists and worse screenwriters).
No, we need someone to investigate the real myths of modern living. And on that score I have started on my new quest.
Today: A watched kettle never boils.
Horseshit. Yes it does.
I stared at the damn thing for the full 90 seconds or so without blinking and it did indeed boil.
Next week: Does the Pope shit in the woods? Assuming I can get the restraining order lifted.
You know, there’s something that will always bring a big, cheesy grin to my face no matter how bad a day I’m having (not that I’m having too many at the moment), but…
Waving to a little kid who stares at you, smiles and gives one of those kindy of wobbly waves back. Makes me feel better every time.
Thing is, in Oz nobody thinks I’m weird because I wave at kids. Back home I’d probably be locked up for being a pervert. Which I am, in fairness. Just not that kind.
Someone please take this shovel out of my hands and stop me digging. Thanks.
Sky News reports that heavy metal is for intelligent people. As Ian pointed out to me when he emailed me the link – what next? Proof that listening to bumpy-bumpy dance music turns you into a drug-addled chav cunt?
Douglas Adams – it would mean he’s still alive, and he was also a complete geek. Plus I’d really like to have an argument with someone who’s utterly pro-Apple yet who I still have a lot of respect for.
Mary Whitehouse – I’d strap her in a chair Clockwork Orange-style and force her to watch hour after hour of hard-core German scatological animal porn until her brain melted out of her ears. Of course, I’d have to feed her if we were having dinner. Maybe some popcorn.
Lisa Tarbuck – because she just strikes me as being so much fun as well as being cute and sexy as all hell. She’s one of those rare women who I think I could have a great night out with and if I didn’t end up in bed with her… who cares? I just know we’d have a hell of a good night out anyway.
God – so I could tell him/her/it that I don’t believe in them and watch them vanish in a puff of logic. Or at least give him/her/it the chance to explain the mess our world’s in since the seem to have turned their back on us. I feel like a little villager in a game of Populous being played by a pre-teen with a mean streak.
My grandads – I don’t think I need to explain this one!
How cool is this? I wonder how much they’re paying for the privilege of painting all those post boxes.