February 17, 2007
As students of the British legal system know, it’s against the law to buy somebody else a present without getting one for yourself. Consequently, I am now the proud owner of new trainers.
Since my old pair are more ropey than Britney Spears after a night on the Diamond White, this is a cause for celebration. At least, it will be – once they’re worn-in, and not so damn white. In the meantime, I shall mostly be looking like an idiot, with Hollywood smiles for feet.
Anyway, that’s enough about my coruscating shoes. I’m off to tap-dance in a dog turd.
5 Comments | 
Fashion, Personal, Shopping | 
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Posted by The Done Thing
February 16, 2007
When it comes to buying presents, I’m not one of the world’s great innovators. It’s therefore with customary thoughtfulness that I find myself in a shoe shop, in search of a gift for a lady.
After a comprehensive, twenty-three second search, I choose a suitably bland pair of trainers and ask the assistant if she has them in a five. While she scuttles off to the storeroom, I take a seat, feeling pretty smug. On her return, she thrusts the shoes in the direction of my feet, which are the size of rowing boats.
‘You trying these on, or what?’
7 Comments | 
On The Streets, Shopping | 
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Posted by The Done Thing
February 14, 2007
Unless you have one hand, it is easy to underestimate the importance of wrists. Until today, I assumed they were like kidneys, in that you only really need one in order to fully function.
How mistaken I was.
Following an awkward tumble, my left wrist is the size of an elephant’s dick. Pathetically, this has led to total debilitation. Such is the pain, I have variously struggled to dress, read, open doors, eat, and (bizarrely) walk.
As for typing – well, let’s just say a spider would have had less trouble writing this entry with one of his left legs.
2 Comments | 
Miscellaneous | 
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Posted by The Done Thing
February 8, 2007
As a young boy, I remember having a fascination with the fact that railway platforms on the European mainland are much lower to the ground than their vertiginous British counterparts.
Having narrowly caught a plane to Switzerland (in spite of the blasted law of averages), I now have a first-hand opportunity to discover whether or not this rather odd fascination has endured into adulthood.
Turns out it hasn’t.
However, the good news is that I’ve filled the void with new, equally bizarre obsessions. These include serpentine double-decker trains, multilingual Tannoy announcements, and cuisine that contains nothing but cheese, potato and onion.
Leave a Comment » | On The Move | Permalink
Posted by The Done Thing
February 7, 2007
When it comes to useless laws, the one concerning averages is right up there with legislation prohibiting the consumption of cocaine in Soho toilets.
Consider the following example. A man needs to buy a ticket for a train that departs in three minutes. He intends to pay with banknotes stored somewhere on his person. Unfortunately, the man has 13 pockets.
Now, I’m pretty sure there’s a mathematical formula designed solely for the purpose of calculating the average number of pockets a man has to fumble through before he finds his money.
I’m also pretty sure that number SHOULDN’T BE 13.
2 Comments | On The Move | Permalink
Posted by The Done Thing
February 6, 2007
Aside from the obvious anatomical discrepancies, there are a number of fundamental differences between the sexes. One such difference is the way we prefer to communicate.
From my perspective, female conversation is a dark art. To illustrate, here’s the incomplete transcript of a phone dialogue between a girl sitting next to me on the bus (A), and her friend (B). It’s about 7.30am.
A: I think he’s going to ask me to marry him.
B: …
A: Say again, babe?
B: …
A: Are you brushing your teeth!?
B: …
A: Sorry, babe, I’ll let you get ready for work.
[They continue talking for a further 15 minutes.]
2 Comments | Eavesdropping, On The Move | Permalink
Posted by The Done Thing
