The "You Can't Be Missed" Meme

It’s been a while since I’ve attempted a Sunday Stealing meme and yet again, I find this week’s is the last part of a four part meme.

What the hell – I’ll attempt all four parts.

Here goes.

1. Which state do you consider to be the most boring state?

I would say being asleep is the most boring state I’ve ever been in. Ah – or are you talking American states? If you are, then I would say the dullest state I’ve been to is Oklahama, which is probably a bit unfair as I was working there rather than being on holiday.

2. If any chef from the Food Network (or any well known chef) could cater your wedding, who would it be?

There aren’t any famous chefs that I actually like, so the answer is none. I’d rather cook myself than have one of these overrated egomaniacs serving their slop to me.

3. What's the last thing you ate that was red?

Red pepper. I’m not the kind of weirdo who eats raw red peppers by the way – it was part of an omelette – a weird omelette I guess.

4. Have you ever questioned the sexuality orientation of a close friend?

No. I know the sexual orientation of all my close friends.

5. Everyone loses a friend after some big fight. Tell us about one.

I don’t think I’ve ever lost a friend after a fight. So there!

6. Have you ever washed an iPod or mp3 player in the washing machine?

I would dearly love to wash Mrs PM’s mp3 player in a washing machine – perhaps it would rid our house of some dreadful music. Apart from that, the answer is no.

7. Have you ever screamed / yelled angrily at a boss?

Yes. And I want to do that all the time.

8. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?

Only when my dad died.

9. Have you ever regretted being in a relationship with someone?

Yes. My first major girlfriend was a nutcase and I dumped her far too late.

10. Have you ever acted like you understood something when you didn't have a clue?

Oh yes. Some people say that I do that all the time at work but it simply isn’t true. I usually nod my head when somebody like a mechanic is explaining why the engine of my car is screwed. I don’t understand a bloody word he is telling me but I try to give the impression that I do.

11. Have you ever thought someone must have been insane? If yes, tell us something about the person.

A friend of mine tried bungee jumping and I thought his brain had self-destructed.

12. Have you ever pretended to be younger than what you are?

I do this all the time. I look around ten years younger than I am so I normally get away with it.

13. Back in the day, did you ever cry because you were turned down for a date?

No. I once metaphorically had my heart ripped out of my chest by a woman I fancied massively. I watched as she metaphorically crushed it in her hands. And not one tear escaped from my eyes. I felt like shit for weeks though.

14. Have you ever (or your significant other) had a pregnancy scare?

I’ve never had a pregnancy scare because I am a man. The women in my life have never had one either.

15. Have you ever pretended to like someone when you didn't?

Yes – but I am saying no more.

16. What was the last thing you did that was totally selfish, yet you feel no guilt?

I’ve just watched the Champions League final on the TV even though Mrs PM hates football. Do I care? Not one jot.


17. Tell us about a film fave of yours that we probably have not seen.

One of my favourite cult movies is “The Warriors”; a New York gang called has to get from the Bronx to Coney Island through the territory of other gangs, all of whom are after them.

18. When was the last time you kissed someone that you shouldn't have on the lips?

That was probably in my youth when I was drunk. I don’t recall any recent incidents and my face remains unslapped as a result.


19. When was the last time you cooked something for someone not in your family?

Fairly recently. When friends come to visit I usually chip in with the cooking.

20. When was the last time you danced like a crazy person?

That would have to be New Year’s Eve last year. Apparently there is photographic evidence.


21. When was the last time you just wanted to be invisible?

I would LOVE to be invisible. My mind is boggling just thinking about the possibilities.

22. When was the last time you got a gift you absolutely hated?

Christmas last year. Somebody (usually my mum) buys me a present that I don’t want or like. I haven’t got the heart to tell her.

23. When was the last time you got into a physical fight? (If NEVER, let us know about a time that you got close to a fight.)

I punched a mate called Alan at a party when I was a student. He was pouring red wine down the back of my white shirt “for a laugh” and when I turned round, he continued pouring it down the front. The red mist descended so rapidly that I had hit him before I actually contemplated what I was doing. I left the party and left him with a bruised face. We are still friends though.

24. When was the last time you had to sleep with a light on?

Again, as a student, I watched “The Exorcist” for the first time. It scared me so much that I had to sleep with the light on and I have been too scared to watch it since. What a coward I am.

25. When was the last time you were under some serious stress?

Around fifteen years ago at work I was so stressed that I had to go to the doctors. Since then I have decided to walk away from stressful situations or at least try to deal with them before it gets too late. So far I have been successful. I still occasionally flirt with stress but cope most of the time.


26. When was the last time you watched your favorite movie?

I have lots of favourite movies so I would say, probably, within the last week or two.

27. What song did you most recently downloaded?

I don’t download songs – I buy CD’s. The last CD I bought was “Wasting Light” by the Foo Fighters.

28. What would you say is your favorite hobby?

I would say writing/blogging. Although I am a crap writer, I actually still enjoy pouring my thoughts into cyberspace for people like you to read.

29. What is your favorite thing to do when you hang out with friends?

Drink beer.

30. What would you rather do: shower or bathe with that celebrity that you are crushing on?

I suppose I would shower with that celebrity – if I had to.

31. What is your absolute favorite dessert?

Black Forest Gateau.

32. What can someone do to make you smile, no matter what?

Tell me a joke, show me their children or their pets.


33. What do the hip people think of you?

They don’t think I’m hip. I’m too old to be hip.

34. What was the last gift you bought someone?

I bought our next door neighbour a bunch of roses for looking after our cats while we were away in Lisbon.


35. What was your favorite class in high school?

I am assuming that you mean “subject”. I enjoyed maths because I was good at it, but chemistry gave me the opportunity to make substances that dissolve paper or cause explosions.

36. How many spouses would be about right?

One.

37. What would you say was the most embarrassing moment of your life?

There are far too many to mention. Here are a couple of recent ones:

Being laughed at by somebody in an adjacent car as I bawled out the lyrics to “Hungry” by Lita Ford.

Spilling an entire cup of boiling hot tea onto my desk at work, covering papers, notes and my keyboard as well as my trousers.

Spilling a cup of coffee on my crotch in front of customers in Amsterdam first thing in the morning. My trousers were light brown so it looked as if I had pissed my pants. I had to walk around like that for the rest of the day and lots of people sniggered. Nobody asked whether scalding hot coffee had done any damage.

38. Have you ever donated money to charity?

I do so every week at work and at home.


39. Has porn ever had a positive place in a current or recent relationship?

No – unless you count laughing at it. Laughing’s positive isn’t it?


40. Would you ever dump the one you're with for someone who makes an obvious play and is MUCH hotter?

Not a chance.


41. Have you ever disowned one of your relatives?

No.

42. Would you think it's OK to cheat on someone if they've already cheated on you?

If somebody cheated on me then in all likelihood I would not be in a relationship with her for much longer anyway. So it’s a bit of an irrelevant question.

43. Did you ever consider becoming a teacher?

I haven’t the patience for it.

44. Would you ever give a hitch-hiker a ride somewhere?

It depends how good looking she is.


45. Would you ever try fasting for a whole week?

No – I love food too much.

46. Would you ever try to quit one of your addictions, or better said: Bad Habits?

I try to stop my bad habits all the time. Sadly writing crap for you, dear reader, is too enjoyable.

47. Could you ever kill yourself to save someone else?

Good question – I would do my utmost to save both of our lives.

48. Does it matter if break up with someone or have them dump you?

I’m not sure I understand the question. I think that a missing word might clarify it.

49. Would you rather have a turtle or a frog for a pet?

A turtle definitely. My big fat cat has been known to catch frogs.

50. Would you rather spend a day with Lady Gaga or Miley Cyrus?

Lady Ga Ga. I think she’s as mad as a barrel of eels and even though her music is crap I think it would be entertaining.

51. Would you rather learn to play piano or guitar?

One of my regrets is that I never learned to play the guitar.


52. We're going back to the day. Where did you get your kicks?

At the pub or at football matches.

53. What Asian country would you like to visit the most? Why?

I would love to visit Japan. As well as being a crazy place, Japan has the best gadgets in the world and I am a gadget geek.


54. Have you ever thought that a passer-by was the one (think James Blunt, here)?

No. And please – I do not ever want to think about James Blunt.

55. Ever told someone that your fake jewelery was really real?

I don’t wear jewellery.

56. Where are the worst public restrooms?

China – without a doubt. Satan himself would refuse to use a Chinese public toilet.

57. What song was the latest one that got overplayed really fast?

All of the ones in the charts are overplayed – and crap as well.


58. What Friends (American TV show from the 90s) character are you most like?

I would say Chandler.


59. When's the last time you had a Popsicle?

I’ve never had a popsicle. I’ve probably had the English equivalent.

60. What TV show from way back would you love to see reappear?

Babylon 5.

Mr Perfect

We all know Mr Perfect. We all know his sister, Ms Perfect too.

Mr Perfect is the greatest person on the planet.

He knows everything about everything.

He is loved by everybody.

His opinion is the only thing worth listening to; all other opinions are wrong.

He is the best friend you will ever have.

You cannot afford not to be friends with Mr Perfect. If you are not his friend then you are a nobody.

If you disagree with Mr Perfect, you are wrong.

If you don’t like Mr Perfect then you are unpopular.

Mr Perfect is King. Mr Perfect is the best of the best of the best.

As, of course, is Ms Perfect, his sister.

If you are reading this, Mr Perfect or Ms Perfect then you can stop now and go and circulate amongst your fans.

Goodbye; I will see you when I next post.

For the rest of you …

AAAARRGHHHH!!!!! 

Doesn’t Mr Perfect really get up your nose?

I’m sure that each and every person who is now reading this knows a Mr Perfect; a person who is always correct even when he is wrong. He is a legend in his own lunchbox and revels in arguing with you about why you are wrong and he is right.

Mr Perect will argue just for the sake of arguing.

Mr Perfect is infuriating. He will argue that one plus one equals one until he is blue in the face, even though it is clear that one plus one is two.

Mr Perfect will never, ever, ever, ever admit mistakes. If Mr Perfect has a car accident it is always the fault of the other person even if that person is a pedestrian and Mr Perfect mounted the pavement to hit him.

Mr Perfect’s opinions are always correct even when it is quite clear that he is in a minority.

Mr Perfect twists facts to support his arguments even though his so-called “facts” are utterly absurd.

Mr Perfect will never walk away from an argument until you have admitted that you are totally incorrect and he is absolutely right. Sometimes it is the only way to get rid of him:

Mr Perfect: Climate change exists AND is caused by aliens.

PM: Hang on! Aliens? Aliens don’t really exist.

Mr Perfect: Yes they do! You are so naïve; OF COURSE aliens exist. The government has been covering it up for decades. They are trying to create the second Ice Age so that the conditions are perfect for their species.

PM: And where did you get THAT gem from?

Mr Perfect: DUH!!!! What do you think is going on in Area 51? There’s proof! I am right! I know!

PM: And of all the people in the world, why are you and you alone privy to this information?

Mr Perfect: I know people. You wouldn’t know – you haven’t as many friends in high places as I have. Hang on – where are you going?

PM: I’m going home to rip out my fingernails with a pair of pliers.

Mr Perfect: See? I told you I was right. I always am. You always walk off when you have lost an argument.

PM: AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!

Do you know Mr Perfect, dear reader?

Or maybe you know Ms Perfect!

I’ll bet you do.

Destroy It Yourself

I am a man of many talents.

Actually, that’s not quite right. I am a man with a modest number of talents.

Okay – I can sense your eyes rolling, dear reader – I’ll admit it; I am a man of few talents.

There are men in the world who take a look at a house or a car, nod their heads sagely and say to themselves:

“I can do wonders with that.”

Such men really are talented; they can build houses and turn old bangers into classic cars. They have at their disposal dextrous skills that can perform minor miracles with just a few ingredients, like a hammer a screwdriver and a chisel.

These guys are like MacGyver - only better.

I am not one of those men. Moreover, such men look at me as if I have just crawled out of a primeval swamp.

Why? Because when I pick up a screwdriver, I stare at it with a mixture of dread and fear. I may be quite intelligent but when it comes to DIY I am an absolute dunce.

DIY stores fill me with dread.

I hate DIY.

I hate DIY stores.

I am crap at DIY.

I don’t understand DIY.

DIY reduces me to an angry, gibbering, brainless moron.

I am surrounded by men who are good at DIY and I am convinced that such men look down at me.

“He ain’t a real man – he can’t even change a fuse.”

To be honest, I’m not as bad as I have just made you believe, dear reader. I can do simple tasks like putting up shelves, hanging wallpaper (with a little help), connecting light fittings, building furniture and decorating.

My problem is that I know my limitations and while I may be adventurous in some areas, DIY is one of those disciplines where I see the potential consequences of my failures and shy away from them. I would never even begin to consider attempting anything to do with plumbing, knocking down walls or constructing anything from a tree.

Hand me a computer and I will attempt anything. My determination knows no bounds in cyberspace. At work I will not stop until I have solved a problem.

Yet when confronted with a DIY task I will examine the possible outcomes and, if I think there is even the slightest chance of disaster, I will not attempt it.

Yet I have friends, who are willing and able to turn their hand to more adventurous pursuits and some of them look down on me. Such men always begin their sentences with the same words:

“All you need to do is …”

And then the rest is gibberish. I don’t understand what they are telling me. It is as if they have had a massive injection of testosterone and start speaking a new language that only real men can understand.

“All you need to do is, disconnect the capillary sprocket from the wing bobbit, knock down the adjoining wall, reconnect the grong dongle to the manflux pully and then screw in the flange wibbit. It’s a piece of piss.”

All I hear is

“All you need to do is LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA! It’s a piece of piss.”

Mrs PM’s dad is one of these real men. He has ripped out kitchens and replaced them with new ones, built bathrooms and all sorts of wonderful things.

“I wouldn’t pay anybody to do that,” he says to me. “It’s simple. All you need to do is LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA! It’s a piece of piss.”

I feel like an alien when I walk into a DIY store. It seems to me that all of the helpful assistants are snakes. I don’t mean that to sound bad – it’s just that if I ask a question, they hiss at me.

“You want to do WHAT???? And you plan to buy THAT???????”

followed by the inevitable sharp intake of breath and the unspoken words

“ARE YOU A COMPLETE MORON?????”

And of course the inevitable:

“All you need to do is LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!”

Ultimately I end up paying joiners, plumbers and builders to do a proper job for me. I can understand the buzz of achievement if you are talented enough to build a new kitchen but the cost is too much. It could be a total disaster and it will take much longer to achieve the same results.

I have not had any disasters as a result.

I know people who have and they have ended up having to fork out loads of money to fix them.

Even simple things like painting. Believe it or not there are guys who are less talented than me. One guy I know (who shall forever remain nameless) was redecorating a room – a simple enough task – but he somehow (don’t ask me how) managed to spill and entire pot of paint onto a brand new carpet. A simple accident maybe – but a costly disaster nonetheless.

The downside is that it costs more money to get things done properly. Mrs PM and I have spent a fortune fixing our house. I have attempted some of the necessary tasks myself and I am proud of that. But whenever there has been any doubt, I have turned to professionals.

And I am glad.

Before I finish, let me just say that I am not sexist at all and there are a large number of women I know who will undertake a major DIY project with great success.

And do you know what they say to me?

“All you need to do is LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA! Are you a DUNCE?”

Yes I am - but I am not as bad as this guy:



Honestly!

A Recipe For Disaster

In the past, on this blog, I have tried to give you the impression that I am an intelligent guy.

That is true – but at the same time I can be a bloody idiot.

How do you make a so-called intelligent Plastic Mancunian into an idiot? There are many recipes; here’s one of them I used a long time ago:

INGREDIENTS

One sober young Plastic Mancunian.

One ridiculous set of clothes that are fashionable only in the eyes of the Plastic Mancunian.

One mirror.

Two other sober young friends of the Plastic Mancunian also prepared in ridiculous clothes.

One ATM card.

Several pints of fine English ale (or lager if none is available)

One Friday or Saturday night.

Several expensive pubs in London.

One very expensive night club in London.

A large group of people willing to dance.

One DJ.

One night club bouncer.

Approximately two hours of cheesy music.

Three young ladies who are well out of the league of the Plastic Mancunian and his mates.

Several cheesy chat up lines.

One stupid idea.

One taxi.

One time machine.

PREPARATION METHOD

(1) Using the time machine, transport the ingredients back to 1985. It doesn’t matter if the year is 1984 or 1985 – that should be close enough.

(2) Dress the Plastic Mancunian in the set of ridiculous clothes and stand him in front of the mirror until he believes that he is sex on a stick. This should take approximately two minutes.

(3) At this moment, take the pre-dressed friends and put them and the Plastic Mancunian into the first expensive pub in London.

(4) Soak the idiots in a couple of pints of beer.

(5) When the conversation starts to get silly and the three young men start to turn into idiots, transfer them to another expensive pub in London.

(6) At this point, you may need to apply the ATM card, particularly if any of the idiots have run out of cash.

(7) Repeat steps (4) to (6) for several hours until the three young men are fully matured idiots.

(8) Apply the ATM card one more time.

(9) Transfer the three idiots to the very expensive and preheated London night club.

(10) Apply the ATM card again because the idiots didn’t get enough cash.

(11) At this point the idiots may realise that they are about to make a huge error in judgement. If this is the case, liberally apply more beer in another pub. That idea will soon diminish.

(12) Apply the ATM card again if necessary.

(13) Before reaching the next stage, the three idiots should be well-oiled and may even be rat-arsed. Ideally they should all be able to string together a coherent sentence and understand each other – just.

(14) Place the idiots outside the very expensive night club in London at the back of the queue of people who are willing to dance.

(15) Slowly place the group of people into the night club for just enough time to irritate the Plastic Mancunian. Two minutes should suffice.

(16) Before putting the idiots into the night club, make sure that the Plastic Mancunian has been allowed to exchange words with the night club bouncer.

(17) Do not allow the night club bouncer to mutate into a violent moron – that will ruin the recipe. If necessary subdue the Plastic Mancunian with a diversionary tactic; pop the three young ladies into the night club (though they can be applied later).

(18) Once in the night club, apply liberal lashings of lager. Be careful not to overdo it at this stage.

(19) Mix the DJ, the cheesy music and the group of people willing to dance until the atmosphere is HOT, HOT, HOT!!!!

(20) Take the stupid idea and mix it with the idiot that is thriving best in the lager. The best idea to use is Impersonate the Dancer, whereby one of the idiots tries to exactly copy one of the more bizarre dancers for one whole song.

(21) When the idiot has finished dancing, and assuming he hasn’t been attacked by the target of his impersonation, he must select another idiot to impersonate another dancer. At this point it may be necessary to apply yet more beer and if you have any, some Dutch courage.

(22) Repeat steps (20) and (21) until each idiot has played the game or until the threat of violence has reached alarming levels.

(23) At this point, mix in the three young ladies who are out the idiots’ league (if not added already) and liberally pour in as many cheesy chat up lines to add a little spice. My personal favourite is

Hey Doll. Have you got a license for those eyes?

Nevertheless,  

Fancy a snog?

will do if all else fails.

(24) There may be a few slapped faces at this point but that will add to the pleasure; the idiots won’t feel the pain; they should be totally sozzled at this point.

(25) Continue to cook at a high temperature until the idiots start to wilt or the three ladies resort to more extreme forms of violence.

(26) Now transfer the idiots to a taxi, applying the ATM card for one final time if necessary. There is no need to worry about the three young ladies at this stage; they will have disposed of the idiots in suitable fashion. The three idiots will be saying “Yeerrr my bessst mate!” to each other anyway.

(27) Leave the resulting mess to rest overnight.

When you have finished in the morning, you will have three colossal hangovers, no memory, no cash, no egos and lots of embarassment all nicely wrapped up in the stupidity of youth with maybe a little vomit on the side.

Facebook (AGAIN)!

I am being hassled by Facebook.

I've never quite known what to make of Facebook, even though I have tried to understand it. Somebody told me once, that you are effectively off the radar if you are young and not on Facebook.

I’m not young – that makes it okay. I could survive without it. After all, I use it mostly for playing Jungle Jewels and Tetris. I leave the odd message and send the odd email but my life doesn’t revolve around it.

I have managed to acquire a modest number of friends but, if I were more proactive,I could increase that number. Up until now, I haven’t wanted to be proactive.

However, I do find it bizarre that people I don’t know and have never communicated with me in any way whatsoever have the desire to be my friend. My sister has a few hundred friends but doesn’t know all of them – they have befriended her through the games on the website, you know, games where you run a farm or a café.

Why would you run a farm on Facebook?

I have had a few friend requests from people I have never heard of; for example a guy with the same name as me, who presumably is trying to build a community; another from a female biker who I have never met.

A work colleague had a friend request from a girl he had never met but had a mutual friend. He asked his mate who she was.

“I don’t know. I only accepted her because she was fit.”

Youth, eh?

I do not look for friends on Facebook. If I have a friend request and I know them I will become their friend. I am not proactive and do not seek to be friends with people I see on a regular basis.

There’s no point.

Real friends who are my age refuse to join. They say they are too old. I can’t say I blame them.

My kids, on the other hand, refuse to be my friend because they think I will use it to humiliate them to their mates – I can’t say I blame them – I would humiliate them. And they think I'm too old for them.

I guess that I have been ambivalent towards Facebook really and I can begin to sense you getting frustrated now, dear reader, because you want to know why Facebook is hassling me.

It is not me who is being pestered - it is the Plastic Mancunian, my alter ego.

A while ago, I decided to create a Facebook fan page for the blog but I abandoned that idea fairly quickly. A few weeks ago I decided to create a user called Plastic Mancunian – Facebook didn’t like the name. I tried The Plastic Mancunian; Facebook didn’t like that either.

After experimenting, I came up with ThePlastic Mancunian and it worked.

Having created the user I then asked myself “Why on earth have I created this user?”

I had some weird idea about promoting my blog – the fan page was a bit of a disaster so why would a user work? What on earth was I thinking?

I abandoned the idea and let ThePlastic Mancunian gather dust in cyberspace.

Facebook didn’t like that.

It started sending me emails:

Hi ThePlastic,

You haven't been back to Facebook recently. Here are some people you may know on Facebook. Connect with friends, family, classmates, and co-workers to see their updates, pictures, and more.

I ignored them.

And then my real Facebook user has been notified.

Hey Dave, You may know ThePlastic Mancunian. Help him find friends

How on earth did that happen?

Finally, three of my other friends have spotted the existence of ThePlastic Mancunian and want to be friends too.

What can I do? I can’t refuse them; they are my friends.

I have come to a decision – which is amazing for an indecisive jerk like me.

I will brush off the dust and allow ThePlastic Mancunian to thrive on Facebook and via this blog and see where it gets me. Who knows he might even acquire more friends than me in which case I won’t hold it against him.

So if you want to become a friend to ThePlastic Mancunian dear reader, feel free.  I am sure he will accept.If not then fear not. I won't beat myself up about it - nor ThePlastic Mancunian for that matter.

I might even become his friend myself.


Or maybe I will give up on it – again!

See? Indecisive to the last.

Another Royal Wedding (Part Two)

I managed to avoid most of the Royal Wedding and I am delighted that it is now drifting away into yesterday's news. However, before it drifts away entirely, I want to resurrect a little taste again.

I know what you are thinking:

You bloody hypocrite. Didn't I just read a grumpy post in which you moaned about it? 

That's true - but I don't actually want to talk about the wedding itself; I just want to skirt around the subject briefly before putting it to bed.

As much as I wanted to avoid the ceremony and all the pomp surrounding the big day, I didn't manage to avoid it as much as I would have liked. I watched the arrival of the bride at the church before retiring to the back room to listen to some rock music.

Mrs PM watched the ceremony and at the end of it, I suggested that we venture into Manchester City Centre to see what was going on. And we had a very pleasant day.

The city was full of revellers (as well as shoppers) and I persuaded Mrs PM to have a beer outside the Old Wellington pub to soak up a little of the atmosphere. It was a gorgeous sunny day, so sunny in fact that I had to move to the shade briefly to avoid sunburn.  It was great.

After that, we had something to eat and stumbled on a street party in one of the livelier areas of the city centre, the Northern Quarter, with a few decent and quirky bars and cafes. The street was sealed off to cars and lined with tables. The bars were all open and a DJ provided the entertainment.

By the time we arrived, the alcohol had begun to take effect and people were dancing on tables to the music provided.

We decided to join in the fun by having a final beer for the road and simply stood there people watching and taking photos.

Here are some of them:

Spiderman dresses for the occasion, as do his decoys.

  

Just in case you had forgotten where you were.

 

Is it me or are DJ's getting older?

 

A party heading towards "full swing".

Tables (just in case you didn't believe me).

More tables

The party has arrived at "full swing".

Spiderman debates which way to depart.

"Kate + Wills 4 Eva" - can't anybody spell these days?

The Party transcends "full swing" as Spiderman decides to leave.

"Did you manage to get a picture of Spiderman before he left?"

Union Jack clothing sales are up.

"Think anyone will recognise us in our sunglasses?"

 

"Wills really wanted to marry ME!"

Bizarrely I'm off to another wedding now, in Blackpool. I like family and friend weddings because it gives me a chance to play "Impersonate the Dancer".

That's a tale for another post.