A Far Fetched Resolution

I’ll tell you what happens with impossible promises. You start with far-fetched resolutions. They are then pickled into a rigid dogma, a code, you go through the years sticking to that, out-dated, misplaced, irrelevant to the real needs, and you end up in the grotesque chaos of a Labour council, a Labour council hiring taxis to scuttle round the city handing out redundancy notices to its own workers. I’ll tell you.. You can’t play politics with people’s jobs and with people’s services.

Friday, October 20, 2006

It's the final countown (again)

Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and internet weirdos. I have a date.

Not a 'date' date. I don't do those any more since I'm deeply in love with Emily and we don't do 'dates' as such.

I never really did 'dates' anyway.

And I'm not referring to dates as in the fruit either. They are nice though. Call me weird but whenever I eat one I can't help imagining myself like Roman emperor or some kind of Persian Satrap on a couch somewhere lounging around munching them all day and ordering gruesome executions for the amusement of my flatterers and hangers on. A bit like olives.

No. Readers of this blog...the moment you have all been waiting for has arrived...I can now confirm the official time and date at which I will cease to be homeless.

At 2pm on Saturday 28th of October I will sign a contract for a flat overlooking the Oval cricket ground. This is a very very good thing. I can't wait.

There will be no persian style couches or flatterers or hangers on unfortunately. Although the landlord has promised us a bijoux coliseum in the back yard with a couple of circus lions thrown in.

1 Comments:

  • At 10:57 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    http://provisionalbbc.blogspot.com/
    You'd like it.

     

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