Hunted down

The problem with people you know finding out that you have a blog is that they generally want to find it. I've been hunted down like a wild animal by a vicious soon-to-be-ex-colleague and here I am, discovered, opened like a book for her to read my inner thoughts.

Fuck.

I may have to kill her. She lives in Moss Side, so it shouldn't be too difficult to fashion something that makes it look like mistaken identity.

Cap in yo ass, Evans. If not that, I may have to give her a good bitch-slapping at her leaving do tomorrow evening. The bitch didn't even bother commenting.

I feel somewhat violated. Still, apart from Trump, I can't imagine anybody nicer to be violated by.


Pink Panther
For some reason, I've been unable to get the Pink Panther theme out of my head for the past few days. Not the crappy Henri Mancini theme from the Pink Panther films, this is the proper rinkydink Pink Panther Show theme.

I watched the Pink Panther Show religiously every Staurday night when I was young and I have no idea why. It wasn't that funny as far as I can remember. There was usually something and a bit weird like a line or something and that daft faux French copper. But I loved it for the theme song and the titles with the Pink Panther's face and its different expressions. I loved the way the song at the end was different from that at the beginning.

He really is a groovy cat
What a gentleman, a scholar, what a' acrobat


Scholarly scrambles
The students are back in town. Fuckers. I had to go the University Students' Union the other day to buy a card or two from the shop and the place was swarming with them - surprisingly.

Looking at the little blighters these days, it makes you think back to when you started at university getting on for 20 years ago and how with-it today's students are. They are so very trendy with fashionable clothes, good hair, gadgets. I was packed off to Leeds with a couple of pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, underwear and one baggy jumper that had to last me for three years (and it did). I even wore that jumper in bed when I was cold.

Those were the days.

But despite all their fancy clothes, en suite student accommodation, laptop PCs, mobile phones and MP3 players, students of today are on average a lot more stupid than when me and my peers were in higher education. It's simple maths: more students enter higher education = on average a thicker student population.

Stood in the queue in the Union shop I noticed that some things hadn't changed since my day: there's always a real smelly one lurking amongst them. Dirty fucker hadn't even been at university a week and had already started fermenting. Surely their one bar of soap/bottle of shower gel that was packed off with them by their parents hadn't run out already?

I've noticed a number of the fuckers wearing scarfs tied in that European style that offends me so much. They don't wear coats of course; just a jumper and a scarf. What's the point of that?

The good thing about this country is that there are so many different groups that are Sniffy fodder. I'll be compiling my list over the coming weeks and working through it systematically through the long winter ahead. Suggestions are always welcome.