Pub Quiz Tax?

Is Gordon Brown thinking of taxing pub quizzes to fund Labour's spending plans?

This lot seem to thinks so: The Daily Telegraph, The Daily Mail, the er.. Morning Advertiser, the FSB Business Forums and the Yorkshire Post.

If it's true, it's a bit naughty and a lot desperate.

I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't just a bit of rabble rousing myself.

Pub Quiz Tax?

Is Gordon Brown thinking of taxing pub quizzes to fund Labour's spending plans?

This lot seem to thinks so: The Daily Telegraph, The Daily Mail, the er.. Morning Advertiser, the FSB Business Forums and the Yorkshire Post.

If it's true, it's a bit naughty and a lot desperate.

I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't just a bit of rabble rousing myself.

Take your partners

This morning is one of those cool sunny autumnal days that make me wish I lived out in the country instead of a city (albeit on the edge of the city). Of course, by the time I pop off the tube at Victoria, deep in the centre, it could be any time of year.

To add to the edge of wistfulness, the train was comparatively deserted this morning – even at Euston there were only a few people standing, rather than the usual sardine can approach to mass transit that London regularly visits upon its denizens. It made me wonder if there was perhaps a public holiday that I’d forgotten or if someone important had died and I’d missed the announcement on public mourning. I don’t thing the resignation of Sir Ming counts.

For the lazy adrenaline junky, I think I have found just the thing you are looking for. If extreme snowboarding or disembowelling tuna amidst a school of sharks is a little too much for you, may I heartily recommend the road-crosser’s waltz? I indulged myself this morning trying to cross Victoria Street and I must say that the adrenaline buzz and cold sweats are only now beginning to fade. If you enjoy this sort of feeling, but are too lazy or unfit to paraglide off Mount Everest, then this is for you.

The process is simple: merely wander up to the crossing of your choice on a very busy urban road and then wait for the green man to appear. Start out across the road and then, about half way, find a similarly engaged fellow pedestrian who is approaching from the opposite side. Attempt to go round them and then blanche when they choose the same direction. Both parties must – and I cannot stress this enough – then look at each other sheepishly and move to the side. But it must be the same side. Maintain this mutually blocking response until the traffic lights are green and the drivers are getting snarly, at which point somewhere down in your brain stem the word will come through to utilise just a modicum of common sense to get past your partner.

It is guaranteed to get your heart racing and freshen the sweat on your brow.

Don’t expect a round of applause or marks out of ten.

Take your partners

This morning is one of those cool sunny autumnal days that make me wish I lived out in the country instead of a city (albeit on the edge of the city). Of course, by the time I pop off the tube at Victoria, deep in the centre, it could be any time of year.

To add to the edge of wistfulness, the train was comparatively deserted this morning – even at Euston there were only a few people standing, rather than the usual sardine can approach to mass transit that London regularly visits upon its denizens. It made me wonder if there was perhaps a public holiday that I’d forgotten or if someone important had died and I’d missed the announcement on public mourning. I don’t thing the resignation of Sir Ming counts.

For the lazy adrenaline junky, I think I have found just the thing you are looking for. If extreme snowboarding or disembowelling tuna amidst a school of sharks is a little too much for you, may I heartily recommend the road-crosser’s waltz? I indulged myself this morning trying to cross Victoria Street and I must say that the adrenaline buzz and cold sweats are only now beginning to fade. If you enjoy this sort of feeling, but are too lazy or unfit to paraglide off Mount Everest, then this is for you.

The process is simple: merely wander up to the crossing of your choice on a very busy urban road and then wait for the green man to appear. Start out across the road and then, about half way, find a similarly engaged fellow pedestrian who is approaching from the opposite side. Attempt to go round them and then blanche when they choose the same direction. Both parties must – and I cannot stress this enough – then look at each other sheepishly and move to the side. But it must be the same side. Maintain this mutually blocking response until the traffic lights are green and the drivers are getting snarly, at which point somewhere down in your brain stem the word will come through to utilise just a modicum of common sense to get past your partner.

It is guaranteed to get your heart racing and freshen the sweat on your brow.

Don’t expect a round of applause or marks out of ten.

Yummy in my tummy

I was just putting my jacket on to nip out and purchase a lunchtime sarnie when an old colleague of mine, Evonne, appeared by my desk bouncing around expectantly. Now, I like Evonne, but it was with some trepidation that I said hello as I had visions of complicated requests for information which would postpone at best, or ruin at worst my valuable lunch hour.

She asked if I’d been to lunch yet and my heart sank. I told her that I hadn’t with an increasing feeling of dread, which was then immediately kicked into the long grass as she produced a £5 voucher redeemable at the staff canteen today. “Thank God!” she said, “I can’t use this and I’ve finally found someone to give it to!” She thrust the voucher in my hand and disappeared in a metaphorical cloud of dust.

I am now happily digesting a very large bacon, cheese and lettuce roll, something that I thought was a flapjack but turned out to be made of rice krispies and an extra strong latté.

It sometimes pays to have a late lunch.

Yummy in my tummy

I was just putting my jacket on to nip out and purchase a lunchtime sarnie when an old colleague of mine, Evonne, appeared by my desk bouncing around expectantly. Now, I like Evonne, but it was with some trepidation that I said hello as I had visions of complicated requests for information which would postpone at best, or ruin at worst my valuable lunch hour.

She asked if I’d been to lunch yet and my heart sank. I told her that I hadn’t with an increasing feeling of dread, which was then immediately kicked into the long grass as she produced a £5 voucher redeemable at the staff canteen today. “Thank God!” she said, “I can’t use this and I’ve finally found someone to give it to!” She thrust the voucher in my hand and disappeared in a metaphorical cloud of dust.

I am now happily digesting a very large bacon, cheese and lettuce roll, something that I thought was a flapjack but turned out to be made of rice krispies and an extra strong latté.

It sometimes pays to have a late lunch.

Glögg

I have just discovered that the Swedish variant of mulled wine is called Glögg.

Glögg is a far better name than mulled wine and from now on I shall be calling it by that name.

That is all.

Glögg

I have just discovered that the Swedish variant of mulled wine is called Glögg.

Glögg is a far better name than mulled wine and from now on I shall be calling it by that name.

That is all.