People have been moaning about the BBC strike. The strikers have been moaning about the BBC. The BBC is overmanned and wasteful. It operates in a way unlike most commercial organisations. That’s why it’s so good at what it does. They need all those extra staff to do pointless things like choose the right colour for Fiona Bruce’s eyebrows, precision synchronise the football footage with Coldplay tracks, dream up those cheesy continuity announcements and massage Jonathan Ross’s galactic scale ego. It’s all important. No mind that the annual BBC budget exceeds that of many underdeveloped nations or would pay for quite a few lifesaving operations. We need media frivolity to distract us from the emptiness of our lives.
My PC has had so many enhancements and add ons it’s starting to resemble Anne Robinson. Today I installed a USB 2 card – now I’m cooking with gas.
Birthdays are weird polarising moments that somehow bring to you the notion that you are very special and worthy of celebration and at the same time how utterly insignificant you are in the lives of almost everyone else on the planet.
Celebrity Shag Island is utter bilge. And I never knew that Jayne Middlemiss used to be a topless modelle. Why am I not surprised?
I’m pleased to note that my swanny neighbours have had seven babies. I took some photos today but they’re a bit blurred owing to lots of preening action. Another attempt tomorrow.