A top quality put down

At another England versus Australia rugby match, union this time at the Sydney football stadium, there was a very annoying drunken Aussie fan (hard to believe I know) behind us who kept singing "Pommies take it up the etc…". We lived with it for the first seventy nine minutes but Cathy finally felt the need to say something. She turned to the guy and said "So did your mother mate, but just the once!" The silence was splendid. I think that England lost the rugby again that day.

Second verse, same as the first…

…a little bit louder and a little bit worse. In the interest of fairness, a couple of years ago I had the pleasure of going to Rome on a stag weekend to see the England versus Italy Six Nations Game. Same story, the band struck up God Save the Queen and the locals were treated to a fine rendition of the first verse. Then they started the second verse. Gulp! English fans looking at each other in disbelief for the first few bars, then we all blagged it by singing the first verse again.

So…

Here are the words for God Save the Queen, Advance Australia Fair and Waltzing Matilda. The pie stand is over there Peter.

Update: Check out the lyrics of the original Advance Australia Fair.

Aussie Aussie Aussie

With the Rugby World Cup kicking off and Australia being in the limelight again doing what they do best, organizing sporting events, I'm reminded of my time living in Sydney and the great patriotism of your average Strayan. One day at work, my colleague of Lebanese extraction was telling me about her cousin's Australian citizenship ceremony. "It was lovely" she said in a very Dame Edna accent, "they pledged an oath and then everyone sang Advance Australia Square". Another patriotic day, Cathy and I were at an England versus Australia rugby league match with a load of work colleagues. They played God Save the Queen (to an accompaniment of a chorus of "Pommies take it up the 4rse" from the locals) , then they struck up Advance Australia Fair, the big screen lit up and the words to the Australian national anthem were highlighted with a bouncing ball. "Oh, goody" said Cathy, "Karaoke time!" I looked around at my colleague who was signing Waltzing Matilda at the top of his voice with a mouth full of pie and Tommy sauce. A quality day out with quality people. I think that England lost both the rugby and the singing that day.

Maybe not this World Cup though!

The feelgood factor

In the car earlier today Mr Blue Sky by ELO came on the radio. It has never failed to make me smile.

Bugger Bognor

The Bognor thing didn't work out. Looks like I'm not going to be a redcoat after all.

Hi De Hi!

Hasta la vista baby.

In true Swarzenegger style, Cathy swept to victory in the local playgroup AGM yesterday evening. She was elected Secretary, doing the minutes, writing to parents, baking cakes and so on. All we have to do now is convince Sam to stay there for a few hours without screaming the place down.

Technical tests

I’m currently looking for a new job. Part of the recruitment process is the Technical Test. These tests vary from place to place and are generally designed (or not) to prove that you can actually do the stuff your brilliant CV says you can. No problem. So, how come a significant number of people worldwide allow these people to control their sex lives in spite of the fact that they don't partake (unless you count buggering choirboys). They wouldn't pass the technical test, they're not qualified.

Couldn't resist this

Zit on my face, and tell me that you love me.

The terrible twos

When you’re the parent of a toddler, the phrase "the terrible twos" creeps into your vocabulary. Other parents say it in a kind of a stage whisper accompanied by a knowing look. Now, after "the terrible twos" comes the "feking two and a halves", this is like "the terrible twos" as World War Two is like boxing. Guess who is going through it now. We were woken at six am this morning and brought Sam into our bed. He started to settle down again between us when suddenly he threw his head backwards smashing into my temple, not too nice when you drank sixty four pints of wife beater last night. He then proceeded to scream the place down demanding milk and television. He got neither, Cathy got him off to sleep and he finally woke at nine thirty. Whilst I as trying to get him dressed he started yet another screaming session punctuated by a solid kick to Daddy’s Jacobs. I’m off up to Millwall this afternoon to pick a fight with some skinheads , seems the safest thing to do. I’ll be back when Sam is five.

Does anyone know where I can get a hardback edition of Toddler Taming to smack him around the head with?

The problem with France

Is that it’s always closed. Everywhere you go, they’re shut. It’s the weekend, half day closing, lunchtime, evening, holiday time. Shut, ferme, closed, geschlossen, we are not open. Actually, I think that they have it right, we have it wrong.

What we ate on our holidays

When you go to Cornwall you get Cornish Pasties everywhere, you see the same sign with a fat lady holding out a tray of delicious pasties . When you go to Devon, it’s cream teas, when you go to the Dordogne it’s fois gras, duck and walnuts. Every meal contains at least one of them, very nice, but not every day. The gîte had a good kitchen and a terrific rustic barbeque, the French sell good steak and brilliant sausages. They also do a pretty good line in cheese and cold meats. Oh, and something about bread. We ate well in general though the area we were in was a little remote, restaurants were a little thin on the ground. I had a superb cassoulet of duck breast and harricot beans one evening. We also had a spectacularly rude waiter in Perigeaux who welcomed us in and immediately started hassling us as he wanted to close up shop. We gave him an insulting tip of 90 cents and flounced out.

Where we stayed on our holidays

We stayed in this lovely gîte booked through this company, we have used them before and I cannot recommend them or the quality of their privately owned gîtes highly enough. It is near a small town called Mussidan in the Perigord area of the Dordogne which is a lot like Kent but with more fois gras.

You may already have won a lifetime's worth of junk marketing

It looks like the big guns have joined the fight against junk mail. Well, Danni Minogue (phwoar!)and Pat Cash, it's a start I suppose. Hopefully Keith Harris and Orville will join soon, or even better Ian Duncan Smith. I signed up to the Mail Preference Service a few months ago, it has significantly reduced the amount of junk coming through the door.

There is also a telephone preference service an email preference service and a fax preference service, none of which I have tried yet.

Your name has automatically been entered into our prize draw.

Are you ready to have children?

Jann has written a handy piece on the joys of parenthood, a list of things to do before you decide to have children. The only thing he missed was to turn around everything you say, "Sam, I don't want you to put your shoes on. No, do NOT put your shoes on!" is guaranteed to get his shoes on in record time.

Right...

...that's it, I'm off to Bognor Regis. I'll tell you why later.

Holidays...

... with toddlers, I need a holiday.