They're really doing my head in now. Every thirty seconds there's a knock at the door. "Is George in?" It must be doing me Mum and Dad's head in even more than mine as they're the poor sods who are up and down like an up and down thing to answer the bleedin' door. And it's not just that, the knock is preceded by the trundle of those wretched scooters that all the 8-12 year olds in the neighbourhood seem to think are ever so cooool even though they in fact make the "scootee" look as camp as a row of tents. Christ they will look back in abject horror that they ever trailed round in one of those "gay bicycles" a few years from now. I strongly urge all parents right now to make sure that they get a picture of their offspring on their scooter for future posterity. "Yes, of course we'd like to meet your new girlfriend, bring her in whilst I upload those picture of you on your gay scooter onto the 56 inch plasma telly....."
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.