At the Friday night service, Bernie turns up with a rottweiler in tow. The rabbi is outraged and says “Bernie, you can’t bring that dog in here, it’s completely inappropriate”. “Just wait,” says Bernie, and he produces a yarmulke and a tallith and puts them on the dog, who immediately starts reading beautifully from the prayer book. “That’s amazing,” says the rabbi, “I’m sorry I doubted you. Do you think he would be interested in attending rabbinical school?”. Bernie throws up his hands in disgust. “YOU try telling him”, he says, “he wants to be a doctor!”.
Monthly Archives: February 2008
0-1
Well, that didn’t work at all, did it? We are now back down to tenth. Still, tenth is an ok place to be. In fact, maybe it’s the perfect place to be at this point in the season: if you’re guaranteed promotion or a play-off place this early on, some of the excitement fizzles out, until the last few games. And likewise if by February you’ve not bothered the top half of the table, the only excitement you’re likely to face is the possibility of relegation, which is the kind of excitement I can always do without. But 10th means we’ll be fighting for a top six finish right through to the end of the season. And really, that’s what it’s all about. And anyone who says “it’s not about the excitement, it’s about the results” is definitely not a Palace fan. In fact, they’re probably an Arsenal fan and not worth listening to at all.
Cartier Affair
Yesterday, in the post-Sunday-lunch haze, I was introduced to this film, which I was amazed not to have heard of before. It’s a jewel-heist caper! With Joan Collins and David Hasselhoff! And it’s rubbish!
But I sort of loved the tagline: “His only hope is to escape with her jewels…before she steals his heart!”. Exclamation mark theirs.
2-0
Oh dear. Palace’s 15-game unbeaten run came to an end as soon as I started blogging their results. I’m going to ignore the next game and see whether we start to win again. Come on Colin!
Reasons to be cheerful: number 4
Spring has sprung! It’s absolutely beautiful in London today. Outside just now, I could feel the sun warming the backs of my legs through my layers of clothing. And then I came inside and a woman waiting for the lift was saying to her friend “the first day that feels like spring is just so uplifting, it makes it seem worth going through winter for.” And she was exactly right.
Edit: obviously there’ll be howling gales and thunderstorms by this time next week. But that’s no reason not to enjoy it while it lasts.
Charlton
We’re away at Charlton tonight. If I wasn’t otherwise occupied I might have gone; the Valley is only round the corner and I’ve never been. I like visiting other sides’ grounds – it reminds me how lucky I am to support a team in whose ground it will forever be the 1980s (I genuinely mean that). It goes without saying that we must win.
Daffodils
I’m not only going to talk about flowers here, but I bought some daffodils yesterday and they were all closed up, and this morning they had started to open, and it occured to me that daffodils are an underappreciated flower. You can buy a bunch of twenty for 99p, and they grow all over the place (there are some growing right next to the snowdrops on the unlovely patch of scrubland outside the Ritzy), and I think that’s why we take them for granted. A rose flaunts its beauty in an unabashed way, but there’s something very modest about the daffodil. And it’s no less beautiful for that.
Reasons to be cheerful: number 3
Snowdrops manage to grow in the unlikeliest places. Some have just appeared in the particularly unlovely patch of scrubland outside the Brixton Oval. Undeterred by the litter, the traffic and the famous Brixton crack squirrels, they’re peeping through to reassure us that spring is on its way. Hurray!
When lists go wrong
British Airways have all bases covered in the “title” pulldown on their executive club registration form.
It seems to me that anyone whose title is “His Majesty”, for example, almost certainly has someone to do this kind of thing for them. Or, you know, a plane of their own. I don’t believe I’ve ever travelled with a King in the seat opposite me.
Refreshes the parts other creams can’t reach
Well, gosh. How did we ever get by before we discovered scrotal smoother and firmer?
You’d think if there’s one place men might be definitively allowed to be wrinkly, it would be their balls. But what do I know?
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