My favourite singer, Mariah Carey, arrived at Mayfair at 2.30am this morning and greeted a large crowd of adoring fans.

The eccentric diva was wearing just a black bin liner under her jacket, and clutched a copy of the Big Issue magazine, which she’d purchased from a homeless man outside Selfridges.

When asked about her unusual outfit, she told reporters:

“Looks aren’t important, it’s what’s inside that counts. My job is to sing, not to be a sex object. The music business is so superficial, and I’m using my position to take a stand against it.”

Good on ya, girl!

So you’re a famous movie star chilling out at home with your family. In the early hours you hear a strange noise and discover a strange naked man strutting around in your leather jacket.

You ask the intruder to remove the jacket, then escort him outside and leave him in the care of a security guard.

Robert Dennis Furo Jr. (45), a tailor, has pleaded not guilty to first-degree burglary. (via film.com)

Poor old Nick Cage.

After reading this story I will never answer the phone whilst using the loo.

Plop!

We Brits are known for our propensity for queuing. There is a clear etiquette for queuing, which must be adhered to at all times in order to maintain decorum. Without decorum we would have anarchy!

Just think of what the Pub Landlord, Al Murray would say about where we’d be without rules!

So you’ll understand why I wasn’t amused when this guy pushed in front of me in Superdrug. There was no need for it so I called him up on it. “Excuse me,” I said, “I was here before you. It’s a bit cheeky to push in like that.”

He tried to say that he’d moved out of the line to look at something, but as far as I was concerned if you leave the line you forfeit your place (unless you ask someone who is waiting behind you to save your place), and he hadn’t. Then he apologised.

Score: Manners 1; Yobs 0

I wouldn’t tell anyone else to chastise someone as I did today because in the worst case it could lead to a physical alteration (queue rage). It can be a volatile situation. The previous time I did something similar I ended up swearing at the guy and nearly started a brawl in the train station!

When idiots ignore the principles of queuing, the Brit in me seethes inwardly or becomes a passive-aggressive nutter while the Jamaican in me wants to cuss and berate the offender. Which will win next time (for there will be a next time)? Come on people, behave yourselves for my sanity.

Further reading:
Standinaqueue
Why do the British queue so much?
Order, order

And a queue of pics, lining up for your attention:

My cousin Freddy is currently enjoying a two week break in Jamaica. He’s staying at the same hotel where I stayed in May. My friend who works at the hotel mentioned that he’d had a chat with my cousin and his girlfriend.

Later on I had the following conversation with my mum: (more…)

Yesterday evening was hilarious.

After work I met Linda at Charing Cross station and walked to St Martins Lane to find somewhere to eat. As we passed the theatre a swanky silver car pulled up. “I wonder if it’s him,” said Linda. We watched as a figure emerged from the car and met the crowd (of about 20 girls).

Mr Bloom was wearing a dreary grey top, and had decided to cover his head with the hood. He chatted to a few girls then walked away. Then suddenly he returned for more adoration. There was an instance when he turned towards us. Linda’s knees buckled, I felt a flash of recognition and a woman next to us also felt a bit woozy… I tried to take a pic, but he moved too quickly and I got the back of a girl’s head instead. (more…)

The world is reading. If one could harness the brain power directed at Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows perhaps we could use it to generate electricity in developing countries or something equally worthy. I wonder what the next book craze will be after the dust has settled.

Apparently a girl in the Philippines has committed suicide after reading a fake version of the book downloaded from the internet. It sounds like an urban legend to me, but if it were true it would be such a crazy tragedy.

(more…)

I know I’ve had worse days than today, but I can’t remember any right now.

At work I felt slightly menaced by a client who was in aggressive battle mode; I felt a bit vulnerable when I was left alone with him, but he calmed down eventually.

After that I couldn’t focus on my work, and felt overwhelmed by everything I had to do. It didn’t help that my colleague, Kay, jars me with her patronising matronly demeanour. I used to manage a team of staff in the dark days of the academic hell-hole; she can’t manage her way out of a fridge yet she seems to think that I’m a moron.

London’s flooded. Even some parts of Croydon have been affected. It took me 2 and a half hours to get home from work (it usually takes an hour) because the railway lines were flooded. I was stuck at Clapham Junction for more than a hour. Station staff directed loads of us onto the wrong train, and the driver informed us that the train was actually going somewhere else… Eventually I got a train to Streatham then took a bus. I was exhausted by the time I got home. My feet are still aching from all the standing, but at least they are dry.

Yesterday I almost got knocked down by a car while I was on the way home from the supermarket. I was walking up the road when I heard a car driving behind me. I sped up and saw the car stop right behind me. A woman was behind the wheel, and a man was in the passenger seat beside her. She was crying and screaming at him as she turned off the car engine.

I think she was upset about him hitting her or hurting her in some way, but I couldn’t be sure. It’s not often that I see someone in that state. I was just thankful that she hadn’t hit me.

Just 20 minutes ago I was about to get off the bus at my bus stop when a guy in his 40s looked at me and smiled at me as if he knew me. I glanced at him briefly then looked away. He grabbed my arm, and I wrenched my hand out of his grip.

He got off the bus after me and walked alongside me, trying to grab my arm again. “Come with me,” he said in an Eastern-European accent.

“No,” I said firmly, and tried to ignore him. He continued to smile at me. I was desperate to cross the road to get away from him and looked at some people who had gotten off the bus at the same time, but they were just watching from a distance.

Finally there was a gap in the traffic and I was able to dash across the road. I checked that he wasn’t following me and walked home, telling the story to my friend who had just called me.

I hope that I don’t see him again. I’m worried that he lives somewhere around here.

My friend said that I should tell the police about the encounter. The guy didn’t hurt me at all, but technically it could be called an assault. And he might try it again with someone else.