Dark Lord of Ventolin

I was walking with small A to school this morning, when we noticed Edward Scissorhands on the path behind us. Far from being alarmed, A said "I think he's wearing a wig, Daddy". It soon became clear that Edward Cardboardfingers would be a better name for him, and after clocking several refugees from Fame and two giant bananas we deduced that the local high school must be having some sort of non-uniform day.

I dropped A off at school and started back, past a few footballers, some mad scientists and one guy in a purple morphsuit. I had mentally awarded the best outfit prize to a Mexican cowboy when I heard heavy asthmatic breathing coming from just around the corner. As I rounded the bend I came face-to-face with none other than Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, dressed from head to toe in black velveteen and sporting a homemade cardboard helmet covered in silver foil. The poor guy (or girl - hard to tell really) was wheezing like a clogged hoover (which put me in mind of that other Dark Lord), but the overall effect was outstanding, and full marks to you, whoever you are. Kudos! You made me smile. Who says the youth of today lack imagination?

Wait, though...what if it wasn't a kid from the school...

Of Mice And Monkeys

After reading this news item yesterday, I find myself checking my own sliced bread for murine stowaways. It's not at all likely that I'll find any, but something in my psyche makes me look anyway. It's the herd alarm signal - it's why you feel compelled to check the house for spiders after watching Arachnophobia. Anyway, is it only me who feels a little bit sorry for the poor mouse? Going about his business, finding a few crumbs to keep body and soul together, finding a nice warm, dry room full of delicious bread and then WHOMP! Game over. He's medium sliced. I believe they never did find his tail - which must worry the guy who'd already eaten some of the loaf.

Today, there's an even better animal story. It seems that the beleaguered organisers of the Delhi Commonwealth Games are employing langurs as monkey security guards to patrol various venues. Apparently there's been a serious monkey problem in Delhi for years, which can't be effectively dealt with as a significant proportion of the population consider them sacred. The answer - bring in bigger monkeys to scare off the smaller ones. But what if the small monkeys get wise to this and hire themselves some chimps as bodyguards? Then they'll have to send in the gorillas to protect the langurs. Worrying times for those concerned about a simian arms race.

Ok, I'm going to go and take my medication now. After checking the house for monkeys, of course.

Disney: the magic continues behind the scenes

Recently, my daughter's weekend theatre school had the opportunity to perform at Eurodisney, or rather Disneyland® Resort Paris as we must now call it. This meant that we had to go into the heavily-guarded backstage areas, where princesses and 5-foot chipmunks mingle freely with chain-smoking French technicians. We were warned several times that absolutely no photos were to be taken, but they stopped short of making us swear to secrecy on the lives of our children, so I can report to you now, dear reader, that the magic really does continue behind the scenes. Any ordinary visitor to the park may wander through Discoveryland, Frontierland or Adventureland, but as our coach was driven into the mysterious backstage compound, a sign informed us that we were entering "Castmemberland". This, naturally, delighted me, though not quite as much as the bus stop labelled "Pirates". Imagine that! A bus stop for the exclusive use of pirates! I wish I could have taken a picture. A couple of young, French, female buccaneers did wander past on their way from the Caribbean, just to heighten the surrealism to dizzying levels.

We were led past various corrugated iron buildings and discarded rollercoaster cars to an unassuming wooden door in a scabby shed. This turned out to be a magic portal to Fantasyland! As we went through, the sounds of the park suddenly rose around us, and everything seemed to go from black-and-white to colour. This transformative experience was actually one of the highlights of the trip for me. That and watching my 7-year-old daughter performing Michael Jackson's Thriller dressed as a zombie bridesmaid.

PHONE ARE OUT

One of the joys of working in a large organisation is the occasional email from people who clearly are not used to typing, or probably even writing. For example:

PHONE ARE OUT
I WILL PUT MOBILE ON AS IT AN EMGENCY.

It reads like a ransom note. Perhaps he's a kidnapper in his spare time. I really don't understand why some people are incapable of writing in lower case. Do they hold the shift key down accidentally with their huge knuckles as they type? Or do they engage Caps Lock deliberately so they don't have to bust their brains working out where the big letters should go?

I know what it is. The Gumbies have finally learnt how to use email.

Much Largest Than World

I offer you a direct quote from this morning's spam. It looks as though it's arrived in English via, I suspect, Russian or Serbo-Croatian. Other than that, I believe it speaks for itself:

"Blondes always giggled at me and even gentlemans did in the municipal WC!
Well, now I laugh at them, because I took M_E GA D IK for 7 months and now my member is much largest than world."