I am in London for a few days and yesterday met Tom from the perennially popular Plastic Bag. Somehow we ended up stumbling around the Trocedaro (which is a kind of awful indoor fun palace), playing a range of arcade games (I was useless at all of them except for the one where you have to hit things that come out of holes as quickly as possible). Tom (who's very male) was good at everything. There was a point though, where the enjoyment of it all, stopped being "ironic" and just for-the-hell-of-it fun.
Afterwards, I got back to the hotel and immediately came down with a cold (I haven't kissed anyone, so how is that supposed to be fair?). So I've got this new thing from the chemist called First Defence. It's a nasal spray that's supposed to flood the cold germs before they have a chance to multiply. But it's like spraying acid up your nose. It bloody stings. If I keep using this, I'll end up looking like Daniella Westbrooke.
The hotel only has the usual 4 tv channels, and as usual I am horrified at the crap that goes out on broadcast tv. Channel 4 actually showed an hour of the Simpsons last night. I had no idea they were still making episodes. It was funny for about five minutes in the early 90s, but hasn't changed since then. Please, someone, put them out of their misery. That rather nasty sitcom (which I still find funny), Peepshow is back for a third series. If you take away the jokes about threesomes, strap on dildos and gay panic, it is basically a typical 1970s British sitcom about the comedy of failure, along the lines of Steptoe and Son. I like Mark, the one who looks like "a member of the Shadow Cabinet" the best. Like me, he should have been born in a simpler, less brash time.