Day 25: I Am Astonished By The Collective Noun For Baboons

See that? That's a flange of baboons, that is. No word of a lie.

Day 25: I Am Surrounded By Squirrels

Here is a photograph of my workstation in the window of Monkey Towers. If you look beyond the stupid (and rather foul-smelling, if I'm honest) 'scented candle' and pointless miniature merry-go-round with aeroplanes on it and through the window, you will see a castellated red brick wall. I have just seen EIGHT squirrels hop along it, in a row. A sort of squirrel day out. Maybe my front garden is Squirrel Alton Towers.



Apparently the collective noun is 'A scurry of squirrels'. This is wrong. A Haunting of Squirrels. A Freakshow of Squirrels. A Stalk of Squirrels. There's also a 'dray' of squirrels (before you all frantically turn to Wikipedia), but that's not as good. Anyway, I don't know what they're doing, but I can tell you this: when a squirrel makes a noise, it QUACKS.

My mother shares my concern, and writes from France:

V. worried about squirrels. Can you not record Monster's [stupid fat cat] miaow and play at 10 times volume? Squirrels, whether imaginary or real should then piss off, unless they have been fed nuts by a moron and have hidden them in your garden.

Day 24: I Consider Methods Of Terminating Middle Lane Hoggers

This is an artist's impression of a middle lane hogger, stolen from the simply wonderful How Motorways Work. I found it by accident after searching for 'middle lane hogger twat' in Google Images.

Anyway, to the point. I'm not a brilliant driver. I get distracted. I talk. I sometimes crunch my gears. I drive brilliantly when I'm alone, obviously. But on motorways, which are big, scary and fast, I concentrate. But mainly I concentrate on how many twats are sitting in the middle lane doing 65mph.

What are these people doing as they drift along in the middle lane without a care in the world? I can tell you what they're doing. They are:

- thinking about their holiday
- wondering when they can pull over to change their wee-bag
- changing their CD
- smoking a fag
- doing their makeup
- eating egg and bacon sandwiches from the service station
- eating hot pies from the shed in the layby
- eating cakes the size of the moon
- drinking whisky
- making calls ON THEIR FUCKING MOBILE TELEPHONE
- being fucking idiots

Now, there are various methods of dealing with people like this:

1. The Swoop Swoop up behind them. Pull back. Swoop. Pull back. Swoop. Flash lights. Person gets message and moves. Not recommended unless you have very big car and are mad, and can't use the fast lane.

2. Flash Merely flash from a distance. Not good. Can cause heart attacks.

3. Be patient Sit behind them at a safe distance, and hope that they get the message from all the other people that are overtaking then slotting in in front of them. Not good, because you can end up looking like a middle lane hogger too.

4. Overtake Highly recommended. Look at them distainfully as you go past. (They won't notice, but you'll feel better.) Then slot in in front of them. THEN move into the left hand lane to prove a point.

The thing that scares me the most is that even if you threw a copy of the Highway Code through their open window as you overtook, and had a flashing LED sign on your roof that said 'get out of the middle lane, fool', they wouldn't notice. They'd still be sitting there, drifting along at 65mph, smoking a pipe filled with Cherry Vanilla tobacco, stroking their beard (that includes the ladies), and listening to Radio 2.

Idiots.

Day 24: I Learn That The Bicycle Thief Has Been Apprehended

Best friend is watering plants in front garden (aye, she's that posh) of house in Dalston whilst rubbing her bruised arse cheek, the result of having been wrestled to the ground by a 13 year old who then made off with her bicycle.

A strange thing happens. 2 policemen go by. On bicycles. They doff their helmets, draw on their pipes and say 'evenin' all' as they pedal past. She thinks to herself: could have done with THEM last night. Then the Teen Tearaway who stole her bicycle goes past. On her bicycle. Not wanting the bicycle thief to know where she lives, she sensibly does not run into the street shouting STOP THAT BICYCLE THIEF. Oh no. Instead, her splendid boyfriend gets into the car, follows the policemen, points them in the direction of the teen terror, and makes off.

The thief is then arrested and the bike taken into custody. However, the bike has been stripped down, and can only be identified by telephoning the British Virgin Islands where the previous owner (and holder of the serial code) lives as a partner in a law firm. A few phone calls later, the bicycle is returned.

She told me this story whilst travelling home on the bus.

Day 23: I Am Perturbed By My Best Friend's Encounter With A Bicycle Thief And An Albino Ferret

Not some surrealist version of a French film, but a true story that happened last night on the way home to Dalston (the posh bit) from Spitalfields. I will let my best friend tell the story:


"On bike, nearly home, approaching bridge outside house. Boy - barely in teens - is standing by bridge vaguely fiddling with knob. I'm going pretty slowly and in 7th gear, look at boy, think "is he having wank?". As I go over the bridge he rushes at me, pushes me off bike and grabs bike.

There's an outraged wrestle and some shouting but he runs off with bike. I get up and shout YOU LITTLE CUNT at him. Go round corner and find 2 blokes talking who are sympathetic, but ultimately useless as they don't know him. One of them is holding an albino ferret throughout the conversation. This is not remarked upon.

I limp home and call police. Have a bruised arse and am quite cross but apart from that OK. Wouldn't happen in Highbury."

Well if she WILL insist on cycling rather than getting taxis everywhere like normal people, what do you expect?