What's on your iPod #10

This week I have been mostly listening to Viva Les Crepes by Claude Plamondon. Pancake ballads are not my usual iPod choice to accompany my busy lifestyle, but who could resist the Gallic charm of ‘You Look Like You Could Do With A Crepe’, the honkytonk wit of ‘Annie Batter’s Waffle Brothel’ or the up tempo ‘Roll Pancake Roll’
Claude made the pancake/pop world crossover before anyone else and remains, in his own words, an old school tosser from the flour power generation.

BLOG POST # 200! Lilo and Stitches

Since Peter Kay made it famous a few years back with his beer ads, bombing has become a thriving competitive sport, and this week I was asked to be amongst the judges for the regional finals sponsored by the Pig Farmers Union. The pre-competition favourite was local girl Tanya Hide (seen here in mid flight) who was really up for the cup. Sadly on her third and final attempt to score a 20 foot splashback and an entry slap rating of 6.0, Tanya misjudged the springboard tension and landed on a lilo in the shallow end. The lilo punctured on impact and shot up in the air giving the lifeguard on duty a nasty gash below the Speedos. Tanya was inconsolable “My dreams are in tatters and my arse is on fire.” And to complete a disastrous day the lifeguard, I’m told, is suing the Leisure Centre and the Pig Farmers Union for IBH (inflatable bodily harm). Stroll on.

Ooh...Ahh....Arrrgghhh.

My agent Bernie Shimshelwitz’s annual charity fireworks extravaganza was a bit of a let down this year. Instead of the usual plethora of breath taking fireworks Bernie had gone all in with one huge firework ominously called ‘END OF DAYS.’ Bernie had apparently got it for a steal off John McCain’s campaign manager and was well excited at the prospect of its cataclysmic contents. Once lit it became apparent that the gathering crowd were not about to witness the end of days but rather a series of random wisps of smoke followed by one rapid fire of rockets that managed to decimate the marquee and destroy Mrs S’s signature dessert (tiramisu.) I spent most of the night talking to egghead historian David Starkey who told me that he always found it a shame that no-one ever remembered Guy Fawkes’ younger brother Toni. Apparently he was in charge of the plotter’s hairdos and was killed when his GHD’s blew up. Gutted.

Don't mention the whore...

Dear old Andrew Sachs has been in the news a fair bit lately, and by now everyone knows that he has a granddaughter by the name of Georgina. Well, I was lucky enough to share the stage with Manuel back in the day when his wife had just given birth to their daughter. I remember like it was yesterday him in his dressing room in nothing more than a bathrobe he’d nicked from his B & B in Sidcup, showing us piccies of his firstborn. Her name? Why Kay of course.
“What have you called her Andrew?”
“Kay.”
“What have you called her?”
“Kay”
And so on. He couldn’t take a joke even back then.