To hell in a milk float

Do any of youse ken how to solve five "a" times eight "b" divided by nine "c" plus three "d" minus "e"?

Thought not.

...

Well, back at school, and everyone over the age of about twenty is going "Wahey! Off you go, you little sods! The world is ours again!" Of course, it makes little or no difference anyway, seeing as most of the grubby little objectionable children tend to spend a fair portion of most school terms outside of the school anyway.

I haven't had time to be reading or writing blogs recently, though, becaus my body clock has been thrown by the twin problems of having to get up for school (seriously. It gets harder every year. They should make some sort of rule whereby you don't have to be awake at any hour less than your age.) and of having bought a watch that doesn't actually tell you the time. Oh yes. The vindictive little sod has already made me miss about a billion episodes of CSI (it's pretty much the only  thing I watch nowadays! They're so much better than your Morses and your Frosts and so on! If you ever want to commit murder, rape, kidnap or any combination of the three, don't do it in America!)

Oh, and I passed a driving test a, while ago, too. Not that that means I can drive, of course. I had to sell my car because I couldn't afford the insurance! I wish I flaming lived in the ninteen-hundreds. What I plan to do is try and buy a cheap lucky-to-do-thirty-without-catching-fire bike, somewhere around the two or three hundred sovs mark, which with any luck will have much lower running costs. Any advice appreciated, chaps.

Next week heralds the return of the let's-put-another-kid-through-some-posh-London-university Mancunians, although thankfully they aren't going to stay. It's almost as bad, though - massive family do with extra Northern relatives. Have you ever heard of a less pleasant event than that? The Vietnam War came close, but at least they got paid to take part in that. And when I say massive, I mean it. The number of Northerners which feel the need to travel south because of this one girl's university placement is probably large enough to cause the whole bloody country to tilt. Which'll give everyone in John O'Groats alktitude sickness and everyone in Bournemouth a free bath. But won't solve my problem. Ah well, at least it's only one evening. Sir Bernard Lovell had to live there.

I've done nothing but talk about myself, have I? This blog is getting far too Elton-John-esque for it's own good. You'd think after such alot of deliberate laziness I could at least have thought of something interesting to say, wouldntcha? Something other than another installment of me talking about me next time, I promise!

Old Mc Mullet, (How's the Farm, by the way? ..Christ, that was terrible.) I was talking to someone about the good old Alice band recently, and happened to come out with a hugely witty and entertaining monologue about it, which I've just spent the last ten minutes trying to remember.

Laura, you don't have a passport? Why? Seriously, get one! You're going off to live at the South Coast! It costs like five pounds to get to France and back! You especially should get one, seeing as you smoke! Of course I love Rosie, but not like that! Why does everyone assume that just because people argue, they want to have it off with each other? I blame that "Shrek" film..

Rosie, oooh, I am sorry! Getting the name of the coorporation who manufactured your mobile phone wrong, how could I?
Na-ah, Motorhead was formed purely because the lead singer got caught by the Mounties trying to get speed into an office! How much less corporate couldja get? And how about unsigned bands, eh? How many "manufactured" unsignies are there?

Biscuit, short. Sweet. True. What more could I ask for?

Laura, cheese is merely a highly evolved form of milk. You don't clearly hate it. You fear it.

Rosie, black, you savage! It's not some sort of neo-hippie felt thing! It's a proper traditional Frenchman's beret!

Sara, you get better crepes in England!
What are you talking about! I've seen people in kilts in Scotland, that doesn't mean the Scotch wear 'em regularly! How many berets didja see? One? It may well have been me!
Oh lord! That's what I should get! A kilt! Talk about inspiration!

Shan, no, rice cakes and nutella are only eaten together by loonies! But more power to you! Snails and chicken hearts! A fellow experimenter! But where you'd break down is when confronted with a nice large plate of Dead Horse!

Ant, oh, you'll see it all right! Eventually! Everyone in the world will, if I gets me way!

Shan and Sara, that's it, don't mind me, just chat away!