Look at this.

Things like this make me profoundly irritated. The Standard last Thursday ran a headline in 4000pt Garamond Bold along the lines of “Commuter Pushed To Death Under Tube Train“, closer inspection revealing that the incident happened several months ago (I had a vague memory of it) and the case has now merely come to court. Which of course gives them an excuse to run the story again, inducing already over-stressed underground users to panic-buy in their thousands. If they could, I'm sure The Standard would have rather run “Commuters Pushed To Death Under Tube Trains” for that added whiff of terror, and “On Thursdays” to drive the point home.

Anyway, yeah, Chicken Kills, haven't you heard, buy The Express, uh, yesterday, to find the true extent to which it maims, lacerates and occasionally amputates. Good grief.

Yesterday Woolworths in Muswell Hill were recalling a children's toy they'd been selling over Xmas, a cute horse-shaped thing with a fluffy mane, which it seems had been coming loose and choking innocent toddlers the length and breadth of Muswell Hill. They had two A4 posters on their front doors advising parents of the specific toy that needed to be returned, and so on. Unfortunately this particular shop has sliding automated doors, so as soon as you approach the poster to get close enough to read the gory details, it slides noiselessly out of sight. I tried three times to get a photo of it, and failed on each occasion. This in itself is now leading to the deaths of even more children, and as such Woolworths should be immediately returned to the place it was bought.

Karaoke last night, extensively reported elsewhere, not without its fraught moments (largely due to my sizable ego being dented when my girlfriend chose to chat to instead of listen to me singing a not un-musical version of Andrew Gold's “Never Let Her Slip Away.” When one is drunk, these things are ridiculously important.) Anyway, after tempers (alright, temper) (mine) had cooled, things moved smoothly and amusingly along toward a roaring finale of “Dancing Queen”, featuring all of us dancing like queens, appropriately enough.

Today is a write-off. Although I will attempt to go and see Lost In Translation, despite several people telling me that I should prioritise American Splendo(u)r.

Note to self: write something featuring the phrase “He/she spoke with a strong Antarctic accent.”