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So let me begin by saying, 'I don't eat crisps'.

Well, now that that is out of the way we can concentrate on re-reading this sentence because that is in it 3 times.

Sometimes I get a hankering to be the best in the world at something, to be revered and reviled, to be lauded and looked to, just so I can say 'Yeah, look at me, I'm really rather better than average!' Well, whatever that thing is it surely isn't going to be whistling, which I can only do on the inward breath for some reason.

If I try to whistle whilst exhaling then I either cover the next 4.7 feet in slobber or make a high pitched sound which causes cringing for the next 407 feet.

Why my whistles affect so many peoples feet has not really been worked out yet, but I'm sure that one day another Richard Einstein or Albert Feynman will come along and work it all out.

(Did you see what I did there, did you? Did you really? I picked a quite obscure niche of knowledge and used comedy juxtaposition to bring it to the masses... well, you 3 anyway).

Well anyway, back off topic.

Recently I had the misfortune of being close to a copy of the daily mail. I'm not going to capitalise those words, it doesn't deserve it. In fact it uses far too many capitals in its productions. The headline was*

ARRGHHHHH! HOUSE OF LORDS FULL OF LYING THIEVING SCUM!!!!!!11ELEVEN

And, to add to the ignominy off seeing the daily wail, yesterday somebody assumed I was indie! Yes, it is true. I was chatting to my boss about the music we play here a la labyrinthe and he said that he'd bring in Gilbert and Sullivan's HMS Pinafore for us to listen to next time we're busy. Great I thought, I love a bit of G & S.

'This isn't just music, this is G & S music'

Shockingly a man sat at a table in the canteen turned to me and said (with a perfectly straight face)

'You'll love that, its very indie.'

I died a little inside. Its not that I dislike being called indie, although I know someone who does, its just that to be mentally relegated to one tiny tinny sphere of music by a musical myope who has no knowledge of me or even what he is actually saying, that was what did me in.

He must have looked at me and thought, 'Hmm, he's young and has hair, that means he's either a lesbian or indie.' Although I'm slightly glad he didn't go for the other, he's still very wrong.

To further increase my sourpuss attitude we then all went go-karting together. Now, I am a fan of karting and quite proficient. Especially on a circuit which I have visited before.

At the end of the night there were 17 men and two finals, the 'A' final, for the top place qualifiers and the 'B' final for the other men. I was the only man of our wokplace (intentional) to get into the 'A' final, the other 5 being in the 'B' final.

Still, not being one to brag I went out, had a good race and finished near the back. Job done, thought I, fun times done etc.

Oh no, we shall now never hear the end of how the previously mentioned wally of Wigan came 3rd in the B final and was the best driver there. Yawn. Well done for coming 3rd in a group of 2nd best people, I hope you're pleased with yourself.

Well, while climbing yesterday I pulled a muscle in my left biceps. Did you know there are two bicep muscles? I did.

It means I'm slightly grumpy and carrying a less than heroic wound on my left side, which is definitely not what you or I want.

If I'm going to be injured I want it to be something frankly massive, like diving to save a child from being run over, being hit by the car myself (I saved the child, thank you very much) and landing on a nest of Vipers which were copulating with jellyfish.

Or, charging into a bank where there was a hostage situation unfolding only to find that it wasn't actually a bank but a bar and it was a ho-stage situation! Whilst hastily backing out of said place I tripped over a argumentative armadillo that had been refused entry and was shot by one of the door men.

Now thats a story to tell your Grand kids.



*I am obliged to point out this was not the actual headline