…there was a load of words.

I don't know if anyone reading this is aware of the intrinsic humour in hearing the opening passages of the book of Genesis read out in an Australian accent. Especially the bit “moved upon the surface of the waters.” A band I was in used to open gigs with our guitarist doing that very thing, accompanied by the rest of us doubled up in fits of laughter, while an understandably bemused audience considered the prospect of 40 minutes being entertained by what looked like a schizophrenic Christian rock band who sound like Wire gone badly wrong. Fortunately for everyone the bible got put away and was replaced by our discordant Fall-esque stabbings. Which were never a code to live your life by, but at least we didn't use the word “begat”. Much.

So I've started this thing in the hope that valuable thoughts that occur to me don't get lost. Quite why I don't stick to paper and pen, I don't know. Maybe it's all just a vanity endeavour.

This morning I got a new washing machine. Bosch. It's a supreme piece of engineering. It just washed my clothes, don't you know. It's quiet, and efficient. But for 300 quid I should hope so.

When two large men arrived at 10.30 to lug it up two flights of stairs to my flat, I hurriedly moved various bits of crap that had accumulated outside my door to make their journey slightly less hazardous. In doing so I dislodged a large lead pipe that had been leaning against the wall ever since the last bit of plumbing that went on here, and it fell 6 ft onto the stairs below, missing the larger of the two men by about 6 inches. God. I was sweating profusely. I don't know much about washing machines, but I know that it doesn't pay to assassinate men from John Lewis.

While playing Cluedo I used to scoff at the distinctly unthreatening piece of lead piping and its potential role in the inevitable murder of Mr Black. I take that all back.