Category: Pictures

Sacked X-Factor Judge Writes Novel…

… but cover designer decides to make it resemble another book on the shelves.

I’d rather have a full bottle in front of me…

… than a full frontal lobotomy, as the saying goes.

Anyway, this is something I saw and took a (slightly blurry) picture of this evening, at the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, here in the ever-fascinating city that I call home.

Two people dressed as bottles of Corona lager, complete with slices of lime.

On a Thursday evening in London, with shoppers and traffic passing by, as if nothing unusual was occurring. Naturally.

Hand in Glove

Now, it might just be my childish way of thinking, but is it really appropriate that this alley is right next door to a large building owned by HM Customs and Excise?

Moulded From The Same Press


… well, maybe kinda sorta.

Lies, Damn Lies, and…

This claim was on the packet of some printable labels I was using at work the other day.

How do they know? I mean, unless they’re giving away half a free arm with the labels, how on earth could this statistic be even remotely verifiable?

Do you think Mary and Joseph had a stable relationship?

Yes, yes, I know. There’s a reason I never used that line in my stand-up.

Anyway, just a quick post to say that I’ll probably be away from the keyboard for the next few days, and to wish you, my constant reader(s), a very happy Christmas /Yule / Saturnalia / Insert own pet name for week-long present- and food-fest.

The picture above was taken yesterday in Central London, as I finished off my shopping – the star in the centre is illuminated, and shoots out spangles of light along the radiating lines every couple of seconds; and all this is on the front of a functioning office building, it seems. Once again, I smile wryly and shake my head in amusement at the casual wonders of the city where I live.

Have a good Christmas, and may you get everything you deserve, and at least one thing you don’t.

She’s Leaving Home (But She Has Her Phone With Her, So That’s All Right)

To the left there, one of a series of phone ads which are currently plastering the Tubes here in London.

And one of the oddest ads I’ve seen in some time, I feel; the suggestion being that the young woman in the picture hasn’t called home for a while, and the caption suggests that it’s something she ought to do, and so I’m rather inescapably driven to conclude that she may have run away from home.

Given the fate which so many female runaways are in danger of, and the shape of her mouth in the photo they’ve chosen to use… well, it looks to me as if Nokia are trying to get a slice of the teenage runaway prostitute fellatrix market.

I don’t know much about advertising, but I can’t really imagine that it’s one of the larger demographic slices. Ah well.

Corduroy pillowcases could create better headlines, frankly*

Today’s Evening Standard board, with a typically nonsense use of language.

Unless he shouted ‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ as he fell, I think the word ‘mystery’ would have been more appropriate.

*Apologies to Bill Watterson

File Under ‘Dignityphobic’

To the left there, the cover of the latest Heat magazine.

Just when I thought that the magazine, and Peter Andre and Katie Price, couldn’t stoop any lower, or appear any more desperate to fill pages at any cost, comes this latest issue, with the photo touting an article showing the happy couple ‘at home’.

Yes, she’s sitting on the toilet, her knickers are spooled around her knees, and he’s handing her some toilet roll, presumably to wipe after she’s urinated, defecated or both. All, quite charmingly, captured on film.

I’m not actually supposed to admire these people, am I ? Please, someone, reassure me.

Yes, I did order the Creme Brulee*

I’ve been away from the keyboard a bit recently, I know.

And one of the places I’ve been is the Café des Deux Moulins in Paris, perhaps best known from the frankly terrific film Amelie.

The photo here is taken from the telephone booth where two people … er, let’s say ‘get frisky’ in the film. And whilst the place is nice, I have to say that it wasn’t quite as sunny and colour-washed as it was in the film. Damn those film-makers with their filters and lenses and washes and doodads.

Y’know, it’s almost enough to make a chap think that there’s some kind of difference between films and reality.

I said almost.

*Though unfortunately they didn’t have it.

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