Jul. 19th, 2004 07:45 am
Contains mild blogging.
Paul Foot has died. More details here. He's described as a "veteran journalist" which is a bit harsh at 66.
The Scout Association has chosen Peter Duncan to be the Chief Scout. It makes me even more despairing that the last celebrity news of note the Guide Association had was Sophie Wessex becoming our President. That said, Betty Clay died recently, so maybe the new World Chief Guide will be Jordan. It'd certainly make the news.
It appears that bingeing women fuel crime. There is so much that makes me angry about this story that I'll not list them for the sake of your friends page, but one choice quote from His Blunkettness:
'It is not chauvinistic to say the presence of women has often been a calming influence, in terms of young men starting to lay about each other.'
So there you go, girls. Stop going out and having a good time, get back in the kitchen, keep the bottle of gin hidden under the sink, and only go to the pub to drag your man out for his dinner.
Meanwhile, in home news, the cat is sitting and watching my lunchbox. It can be no coincidence that the box contains the salmon I've just poached for my tea. I think I should get ready for work before she does something we both regret.
EDIT: I've forgotten my keys for work. Sigh.
The Scout Association has chosen Peter Duncan to be the Chief Scout. It makes me even more despairing that the last celebrity news of note the Guide Association had was Sophie Wessex becoming our President. That said, Betty Clay died recently, so maybe the new World Chief Guide will be Jordan. It'd certainly make the news.
It appears that bingeing women fuel crime. There is so much that makes me angry about this story that I'll not list them for the sake of your friends page, but one choice quote from His Blunkettness:
'It is not chauvinistic to say the presence of women has often been a calming influence, in terms of young men starting to lay about each other.'
So there you go, girls. Stop going out and having a good time, get back in the kitchen, keep the bottle of gin hidden under the sink, and only go to the pub to drag your man out for his dinner.
Meanwhile, in home news, the cat is sitting and watching my lunchbox. It can be no coincidence that the box contains the salmon I've just poached for my tea. I think I should get ready for work before she does something we both regret.
EDIT: I've forgotten my keys for work. Sigh.