next to godliness

Apparently my constant complaints about the filth and mess in McMuffin Mansions led David TEFLSmiler to believe that he would be staying in some kind of cesspool. I wondered why he made a point of saying how clean it all was! Anyway, I just wanted to point out that despite Slinky and Ra's best efforts we do maintain an acceptable level of hygiene and tidiness. This stuff matters you know, I don't want anyone thinking I'm some kind of dirty birdy.

pathetic...

I had to have the day off work today to recover from the lack of sleep I suffered while Mr TEFL Smiler was visiting over the weekend. We ended staying up until 4am each morning chatting and drinking. It was great, but has taken it's toll on my poor aged body. I slept through my alarm this morning, and then sat in front of the computer until nearly 10am, when I decided that I wasn't going to work. This afternoon I watched Truly, Madly, Deeply and dozed a little bit. Great film, great nap. I recommend them both.

stop lurking...

MS GINGER CAKE...STOP LURKING AND COMMENT.

challenges...

...Jo to a 'cook off' the next time she's in the UK.
Redesigning the blog without letting the blogdemon in.
Saving money.
Spending the saved money on the house of shame (aka McMuffin Mansions).
Getting healthier (goodbye fags and hallo exercise).
Remembering everyones' birthdays (Penblwydd Hapus to Michael and David TEFLSmiler).
Not equating mocking and cynicism with a good sense of humour (so no pictures of dead bunnies sent to us by the Housing Dept. as evidence of a family's depravity put into a frame and placed on a colleague's desk with 'Best Pet Ever' on it and certainly not marking her melted pen with 'Property of Uri Geller).
Becoming proficient in another language (something really easy).
Getting the job application in tomorrow (even though I don't really want it and the interviews are Monday and it's probably too late already).
Writing decent entries for the blog.

for 20p more...

...a year, or some other ridiculously small amount I am trying to evidence

Thorough knowledge of proposed and actual legislation, statutory regulations and Government guidance and standards relevant to children in need

When all I have is a working knowledge of most of this and a nodding acquaintance with the rest. I shan't go into the other 21 areas they want to know about, as just writing this makes me realise I am stupid and unworthy and a danger to the public. I don't want this job enough, but I can't put off writing any longer. Bloody hate this, want to work on the deli counter at Tesco's, just don't make me do an application.

the transformed man

I have just downloaded a copy of William Shatner's 1968 album The Transformed Man. It is one of those albums that you hear a lot about, but rarely get to hear. Well, I have now listened to about as much of it as I can stand, and while I don't think that it is that great, Shatner probably deserves some credit for trying to do something a little bit different. There is some serious, if misdirected, thought behind the album. Here are a couple of tracks for you to listen to. I am not going to play it for laughs, instead I will offer the couplet as they appear on the original album. There are 11 songs on the album and 10 of them are paired, offering some kind of comment on the polarities of man, I think. The first song for your delictation is Hamlet and the second is It was a very good year. Enjoy.

I am transformed...

I know that lots of you wonder what Mrs McMuffin and I look like. Well, I have decided that I want to look like a youngish Paul Newman. In future, if you don't mind, when you think of me then I would like you to picture Paul Newman as he was in Cool Hand Luke, before he had the crap beaten out of him, of course. I couldn't find a picture of him from that film, but this one isn't bad. I think it is from Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.

it has been a good day...

I am sitting here boiling in this heat. Had my second bath of the day, but it doesn't seem to have done much good. Once I had changed into my lovely linen, I felt cool for a few moments. But I had to go out to do a bit of shopping, and I was subjected to the heat. In fact, as it turned out, I didn't buy anything from the shop. I went to our local Co-op, and they didn't seem to have any fresh food, so I decided to make do with what I already had.

I was up at the Royal Courts of Justice for most of the day, even had the opportunity to give evidence for an hour or so. I had the strangest experience while I was in the witness stand. One of the Barristers was asking me a 'what if the judge decides' kind of questions. It is a long story, but he wanted to know if I would change my mind about the risks to the children if the Judge decided that the child had "erroneously" alleged they had been sexually abused by their father. I said that it wouldn't make any difference to what I thought, and the Judge turned to me and said, "so you think I would be wrong?" Now, it is not often that you get the chance to say this, but I said, "Yes I think you would be wrong." The Judge and I then shared a sneaky laugh together!

I think I came out of it looking good. The Barrister who asked the queston was very unhappy with me. For some reason he seemed to think that I supported his client.

I love going to court.

the form of hell...

...is done. My application is complete. I went to tell Big Boss and he told me that my interview has been booked for the early afternoon. Now I would think that was extremely efficient, but it appears that my interview may have been arranged without receipt of my application. How bizarre. In any other organisation this might suggest that it's 'in the bag', but I know it isn't, I've still got a whole 45 minutes to screw up my chances on Monday. I may not want the job, but I don't want to be rejected either.

It's sodding hot. Muggy, humid, sticky, nasty. Even the rain just evaporates, leaving it nastier than it was before. The recent storms were crap this side of town, no flooding, nothing. Didn't even see any good lightning. Didn't even get a chance to mock a judge today, just annoyed a Policeman. That Mr McMuffin is so lucky.

slinky melting...

I took this photo of poor Slinky as he seemed to be melting into the table. He has been a bit moany over the last couple of days, and I can only assume it is because he is just too hot. Poor, very, very, annoying, thing.

[Update: this photo is driving me mad. For some reason I just cannot get the spacing right on it. I must have re-uploaded it half a dozen time, but it just will not sit right.]

seasoned slate

After going round with a trowel, picking up all the smelly cat shit outside the back door, I was very fed up. Ra's poo seemed very big for a little cat and unnecessarily sticky. We recalled David TEFLSmiler saying that cats hate orange peel and that they wouldn't poo near it. We didn't have any oranges, only lemons (because oranges are not the only fruit) so I decided to grate the peel and squeeze the juice over the slate chippings. Mr Mc Muffin noticed that Slinky wasn't keen on rosemary or lavender, so we sprinkled some sprigs out there too.

25 hours without cat shit outside the back door. Eureka!

et voila!

Here is the latest incarnation of our blog. I thought it was about time that we had a redesign. As far as I can tell, I have been able to keep the blogdemon out. Never let it be said that we are not attentive to the needs of our loyal reader. This version of the blog will only ever have little photos on it, and if I post lots of photos then I intend to set up a link to another page. The site should load very quickly now. Mrs McMuffin and I will now be posting under our own names, so no more confusion about who said what, hopefully. I have also taken off the recent comments and posts sections. They were annoying me too much, and really didn't add anything to our use of the site.

I still have a bit of work to do with the links to our blog roll and our obsessions, but that should be completely over the next couple of days. Oh, and I may have to change the banner again, because I am not sure Mrs McMuffin likes it all that much, although she hasn't seen this version yet.

As you can see, if you want to look, I have only changed the photos on the front page, I have left all the other photos alone, and, of course, none of them fit the new design very well. I am anal, but I am not mad.

All in all this has been a fairly painless refurbishment, not like the last one which nearly drove me a bit mad. It has only taken nearly a year, but I am finally getting to grips with Typepad, and the different ways in which I can customise the site.

Any comments on what I've done are welcome. I'm going to bed now.

slate update

37 hours and still no cat poo. I think we might be onto something, fame and fortune beckons. We need a brand name, it's a pity 'Shitbegone' is taken. I quite like 'Crapattack' but perhaps 'Mr and Mrs McMuffin's organic herbal cat deterrant' has a cosier feel.

Further update: 39 hours poo free, then Ra shows his disdain for our business idea and all talks with major pharmaceutical companies are cancelled. I think Ra had been saving this one for the whole time, it is enormous and very smelly. Mr McMuffin wanted to put a picture up, but that is really going too far.

buy mcmuffin loveliness

You can now buy a little bit of mcmuffin loveliness for yourself. I have set up a CafePress shop to flog fantastic items such as this dog t-shirt. Why would anyone in their right mind buy their dog a t-shirt? That little quibble aside, I hope you buy lots and lots of them, and that you will make us very rich. Even though it is a bit strange, I wouldn't mind, too much, being known as the man who made his £millions from selling dog t-shirts through CafePress. Oh, and the ladies can also buy themselves a thong with a cute little picture of the muffins on it. Remember, it is important that you SPEND, SPEND, SPEND. If I was you, I would buy at least two of everything. You never know when you might need to give someone that special gift of a dog t-shirt or a thong.

is he cool or what...

We have discovered a blog by a fourteen years old boy called youngest of one. It's well written and entertaining, just filled with the usual stuff that people put on blogs. What got me about it was that it is being written by someone so young. How did he get to be so smart, and, yes, I have to say it...cool? I can't make up my mind if I am being patronising in that way that only adults can be towards children, or maybe I am a little jealous that I wasn't more like him when I was his age. Anyway, it's a great site, and we have added it to the blogs we love.

a perfect day...

The youngest of one has a posted about his perfect day, and it got me thinking. My perfect day would have to take place in Madeira with Mrs McMuffin. The weather would be warm and sunny. The day would begin with us sitting on our balcony with a view of the sea sipping hot strong coffee. We would then spend a couple of hours wandering around Funchal, stopping every now and then for another coffee. Stopping off at the cafe in the yellow square for some lunch and maybe a beer. After we have eaten we would get a cab to Madeira Shopping, a new out of town shopping centre, for a bit of window shopping, and maybe we would even buy a couple of little things. As this is my fantasy, I have decided that Apple have opened a store in the centre, and Mrs McMuffin in a fit of generosity decides to buy me a 15" Powerbook. When I have calmed down, we would go to the lovely, plush, new cinema in the centre to see a film, some kind of summer blockbuster, sci-fi actioner type thing, starring Arnie in his heyday. That probably takes care of most of the day. My evening would be spent back on our balcony with the lovely view, and as if by miracle, half a dozen of my favourite people turn up, with Gary Rhodes in tow. For some reason, Gary is determined to prepare us all a fantastic meal. We all spend the rest of the evening eating great food, drinking, and chatting. We finally get to bed about 2am, we are happy and tired, but not too tired...That would be a nice day.

such a perfect day

I do admire the simplicity of Mr McMuffin's day, although persuading Gary Rhodes to come along might be difficult. I even like the idea of Gary cooking for us, you just know he's a nice man and not a Ramsay style fuckwit.

I am a little more greedy, my perfect day would involve a modest lottery win, enough to pay off the mortgage and refurbish the house. There would be enough left to provide us with a house in Brittany and my perfect day would begin here. I would wake refreshed and not having been yelled at by an angry cat. Mr McMuffin and I would share a simple breakfast before heading off to Rennes where we would buy fabulous fresh food from the market. We would stop for a coffee and perhaps a spot of lunch. While we are sitting watching the world go by one of our new French chums spots us. She is a top chef and says she will cook the meal for us tonight as our family and friends are coming over to celebrate the anniversary of our last perfect day. EBIL is evil no longer after a few years of therapy and we are now very close.

I pop into the University and pick up more begging letters from students desperate for a tutorial with Dr McMuffin and think about cutting down my hours as I really want to concentrate on my gorgeous garden and my painting. Mr McMuffin is busy chatting (in French, we are both completely fluent) with a travel agent and I realise he has indulged my fantasy of a grand tour around Europe in six months time. I spot JJ Burnel and discover he has turned into a really nice man. He's going to come over later and says he will give me the origional art work for Rattus Norvegicus as it was my favourite album when I was young and will tell lots of amusing and clean anecdotes about his musical career.

Back home. The cleaner has been round and the place is spotless. I don't have to lift a finger. I am a bit peturbed to find a request for an interview with The Sunday Times. I am a bit fed up that they aren't really interested in my humanitarian work, they just want four or five pages on how gorgeous and popular I am and how a Brit has become a style icon and inspiration to the whole of France. I decide to refer this paper to Le Monde as they did something similar a few months ago about how I had brought peace to warring countries all over the world and inspired governments to take action on the environment and poverty.

We have a lovely meal. I really have to stop now.

firefly

I can't believe that they cancelled this series after only fourteen episodes. I bought the DVD box set of the complete series and I've been watching them over the last couple of days. I only saw a couple of episodes when it was shown on TV, and I thought it was okay at the time. But, now, seeing the episodes back-to-back I realise that it is an absolutely brilliant show. Written by Joss Whedon, of Buffy fame, it is an inspired idea with lots of great characters. It reminds me a little bit of the Peter F. Hamiliton's Night's Dawn trilogy. Not sure why, it just does. If any of you are looking for a replacement for Star Trek, then this could have been the show for you. Ah well, I guess we will just have to make do with these great episodes, and dream of what might have been.

muffins

I have become fed up of stealing other people's photographs. I decided to take my own photos of muffins for our banner, and, of course, our range of best selling ladies underwear. They have come out looking fantastic, but you will have to wait a while longer before I unveil them to the world. In the meantime, however, here is another photo from this afternoon's session. It just looks so moist and chocolatey delicious. Believe or not, I still haven't eaten one of them. I have decided to save it for later. I'll think of you while I am eating it.

change is good, repeat after me, change is good

I am generally not made happy by change. I find these redesigns unsettling.

I'm not keen on being a purveyor of dog t-shirts and thongs. Thongs are just so 1999, everyone knows big pants are the new thongs. I imagine this latest lark will go the same way as the Penpal account [ha ha, I think that should read PayPal, Mr McMuffin]. Mr McMuffin finds the idea of making money from the internet endlessly amusing, you should hear him chortling away.

Back to me, I don't like interviews. If I do well my life will change, if I don't do well things will stay the same except that I'll lose my dignity and self respect. You can't buy these you know. They are free, therefore I conclude (and reassure myself) they aren't really worth anything, so it doesn't matter if I lose them I can always get more.

I have as much crammed into my head as I can take before it dribbles out of my ears. Go on, ask me about the Children Act, Children Bill, London CP procedures, Assessment Framework, 'Working Together' and Children's trusts. I shall make mincemeat of your feeble questions about PAF indicators. Supervision/Equality issues/Practice questions/Staff management/Partnership working/Legal issues in CP, ask away, I shall go on until long after your eyes have started to feel heavy.

I can guarantee that I will know all of this until 1.30pm tomorrow, then the mysterious mind wipe will occur. Sod it. It's only 20p more a year, right?

google this

I thought I would check on our stats, and discovered that our post mail order husband keeps coming up. I did a search myself and discovered that we are the No. 2 item. How cool and, it must be said, slightly weird is that? The number one site is well worth a look. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, it is called mailorderhusbands.net. One of the adverts caught my attention.

My name is Daryl. I am 17, but will be turning 18 in September. I figure by the time we get to know each other I will be legal tender and we can marry. My parents are kicking me out after December and I'd like to meet a woman with a lot of money so we can have fun. I like women between 18-45, but would consider older if we do not have to touch a lot. Country: Wooster Falls, ILL, U.S.A.

I wish him the best of luck. Wouldn't it be great if he met his new bride to be through this, the McMuffins of Love site. Just think, what a boost a McMuffin wedding would give to our stats.

more mail order husbands

I am so sorry, but I find myself drawn to this site. It has a weird fascination for me. Why would anyone be looking for a bride who can dress wounds? The site has a page for success stories, unfortunately, they appear to have had only one success, so far.

Thousands of couples have found happiness and companionship through Mail Order Husbands, Inc. Including Arlina and Mark...Scenario: Arlina had an urgent case. As a result of a self-imposed deadline of being married before she reached 33, she knew that she only had a few weeks to meet and marry her man. With few legitimate prospects in her remote location, Arlina turned to Mail Order Husbands, Inc. (MOH) MOH is used to these situations. Arlina met her husband, Mark (right), through the MOH print catalog. Their affection blossomed when Arlina sent for him in his homeland of Latvia. Mark's understanding of English is rough due to his learning disabilities, but they are both fluent in the language of love. "Not only was MOH able to provide me a variety of bachelors to choose from, but I was able to beat my deadline by 2 weeks when I ordered Mark. Thank you, Mail Order Husbands!" -Arlina

I should like to take this opportunity to wish Arlina and Mark all the best in their new life together.

I just realised that Mrs McMuffin's complaint in the original post was about the lack of mail order husbands. She will be so pleased to see these fine men on offer. Best of all, she might even pick up a bargain. I noticed that one of them has been on sale for two years, and as an added incentive has now been reduced by 50%. I wonder if any them are handy around the house. At that price, we would be foolish not to get one. Maybe this is the answer to Jo Counting Sheep's roofing problems.

i'm a bit slow

It has taken a while, but finally the penny has dropped. The mailorderhusbands.net site is a joke. A very fine joke indeed. I am reminded of that old saying: fool me once, and the joke is on me, fool me twice, and I must be very, very stupid...

were viggo's shorts too short

Some time ago, after watching GI Jane for the fifth time, I became a little obsessed with how short Viggo Mortensen's shorts were. I set up a little survey, and I thought it was about time I revealed the results of that survey. results A massive 57% of participants believed that Viggo's shorts were NOT too short, while only 29% of you believed that Viggo's shorts were too short. 14% of voters just didn't care one way or the other. analysis A surprisingly high number of people who took part in the survey, 57% in fact, demonstrated an appalling lack of taste. I would suggest that these are the same people who encourage men to wear Speedos. 29% of participants were right minded souls, and probably wouldn't be seen dead in a pair of Speedos, or even standing next to someone in a pair of Speedos. 14% of people claimed not to care about the length of Viggo's incredibly short shorts. I think they were in shock, and trying to deny the impact of seeing Viggo's, admittedly impressive, bulging crotch.

Not sure where I am going with this, so I will just stop it here.

you know...

I should be working. I have a report to write.

does this make sense?

Mr McMuffin has been so prolific today that this blog is in danger of becoming 'At home with Mr McMuffin with occasional guest appearances by Mrs McMuffin'. I feel as if I need to say something, but I can't be bothered to think about the interview and the news that awaits me tomorrow.

I have been reading Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. Last night it was too hot for me to sleep so I turned my attention to one of the most arresting of quantum improbabilities arising from Wolfgang Pauli's Exclusion Principle (1925). I think I may have cracked it, I wonder if the 'pairs' of subatomic particles aren't in fact a pair but the same particle, a 'mirror image' able to exist at the same time, but not in the same location.

After congratulating myself on my genius, I was going to make myself a little tinfoil hat, but instead got a damp towel off the washing line and draped it over me. I felt cool for the first time all day with the wet towel over me as a blanket and fell asleep. It was bone dry by the time I woke up. Mr McMuffin actually managed to sleep with part of the duvet over him which I think must be indicative of his extra terrestrial origin. That's just not normal.

24

There will be no more posts for today, probably. I got Mrs McMuffin the new DVD box set of 24 to celebrate her interview. I have absolutely no interest in seeing these shows, you understand, but I guess I will have to go and try to get in as many as I can before I fall asleep.

slinky is sleeping

I know that I talk about this cat far too much, but this is a photo I took yesterday as he slept on the chair next to me while I worked on the computer. He just looks so cosy and adorable. In fact, he is sitting next to me right now trying to get to sleep. He is in a far less relaxed state of mind though, having suffered the indignity of being locked out of the house last night. I was awoken this morning by his wails to get inside. The rain is pouring down, and poor Slinky looked like a drowned rat cat. It has taken him about 30 minutes to settle down after the trauma of getting wet.

Please don't tell him that when we go to work in an hour or so, he is going back out in the rain.

a muffin of our own

I mentioned the other day that I had taken some photos of myself of some tasty muffins for our site. The irony is, of course, that having created these beauties, I am concerned that the less scrupulous amongst you will steal the fruits cakes of my labour. Ah well, I guess I will just have to live with that. I will consider it my just dessert. All that to one side, don't they look lovely?

flippin' heck...

...I got the job. Fear for the children.

nectar

I have only just got around to registering my Nectar card, which is a reward system operated by a group of big companies in the UK. I was surprised to find that I have acquired 14,250 points. I got very excited about what I could get for that from the online catalogue. Apparently I can get a return to Paris on Eurostar for only 12,000 points, which seems like a good deal. But I want a digital video camera. I can get one for only 93,000 points. The Nectar site has a handy calculator for working out how long it would a take me to earn enough points so that I can have the camera. Turns out that if I spend an average of £295 each month on grocery shopping at Sainsbury's I will earn enough points in only two years. That means that I will have to spend more than £7000 to be rewarded with a two years old camera that only cost £450 when it was new. Now that is the sort of shopping challenge that I just cannot ignore.

lisa loeb without sound

I am listening to the new Lisa Loeb album, and it is very dull. Even duller than this. She has a pleasant enough cutesy girly voice. I won't bore you with any music, but if you look at this, I am sure you can imagine how she sounds. Her singing just lacks any sparkle of soul. For those of you who don't know, this is what soul looks like. Just thought I'd mention that.

ms gypsy tart's new trousers

Ms Gypsy Tart has bought herself a new pair of trousers. She loves them. She thinks they are very slimming. However, Mr Rock Cake, he who wears nothing but three quarter length shorts all year round, thinks they look awful. For some reason, he thinks they make her look like Peggy Wanker Bundy [snigger]. What do you think?

interesting post

Mr McMuffin has commanded me to 'write something interesting'. If only it were that easy. He might as well ask me to part the Red Sea or build a working time machine. Actually, they would probably be easier to achieve now I have discovered my scientific genius.

My genius now extends to curing cats of fleas. It's really simple. All you have to do is get Mr McMuffin to hold down a squirming Slink and put a capsule of toxic waste on the back of his neck. Slinky will then run off and hide, leaving his fleas in the dining room to feast on Mr McMuffin in the morning.

Gnats now hate me and even fleas aren't keen on my blood these days. You'd think the gourmets among them would like a little drop of rhesus negative now and again to cleanse their palate, but no, they want Mr McMuffin's common as muck type. If fleas were mammals, they'd be seagulls picking over the rubbish dumps.

Mr McMuffin remembers an interesting thing about fleas. Not the post office tower thing, but that they would have todgers three foot long if they were human sized. I worry about him.

mmm...tasty

Kermit the blog has done a lovely job of redesigning his site. I didn't know that you could do drop-shadows in CSS, but now I do. I found an easy explanation on how to do it on this site. I am very pleased with myself.

look...

Mrs McMuffin is useless. It wasn't that hard. Look, I made a workng time machine during my lunch hour this afternoon. For those of you who want to emulate my work, I found Bill Bryson's book invaluable. I have sent back a hamster, a cheese sandwich, and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, to 1976. They have all returned none the worse for wear. Mrs McMuffin will not consent to being a subject of my temporal experiments, but it is for the good of all mankind. Therefore, later tonight when she has dozed off in front of the television, I intend to use my time machine to send her back to 1982. I am torn. Does the end justify the means?

News: Mrs McMuffin is missing. Mr McMuffin says: I have no idea when she has gone, one minute she was sleeping in front of the TV and the next she was gone. The Police are appealing for anyone who has knowledge of her whereabouts to come forward.

it's the kiss on the lips...

...before they execute you 'Goodfellas' style. I have a very bad feeling that I've crossed into an alternate universe. So far everything isn't too different, but work is going really well. As you may recall I have been offered a promotion and I now have the results of my appraisal. I have a pay rise and a performance bonus. I didn't even have to drag more chidren screaming from the loving arms of their parents than any other Social Worker to achieve this. It's a bit creepy. I would like to think that my obvious talents have received recognition at last, but I suspect that I fell asleep and Mr McMuffin put me in his time machine. Thank God I didn't end up in Karan's microwave.

something for you to do

push

the food of love and all that

Some time ago Mr McMuffin wrote about his experiences of seeing bands live (accompanied by a dwarf) and I said that at some point I would write about the music that moves me, and means something to me. There is so much to say and I would love to do something like Jo's sheep radio, which is fantastic.

I spent last Saturday with Gypsy Tart and another old friend who does not yet have a cake name, let's call her Banoffee Pie for the moment. Gypsy Tart and Banoffee Pie have been friends for almost twenty years and have seen each other through some rough times. They have even house shared and survived to tell the tale and they tell tales of their shared history very well. I laughed so hard at some of their anecdotes I told them they had to get a blog for themselves. We fell to talking about a certain SE London club we used to frequent in the late 80's and early 90's and the music that reminded us of this place. I'm going to get them to spend some time here and we'll make up an album's worth of quintessential tracks from The ***** (there will be a prize for anyone who can guess the name of the club, when I post the music).

I also remember some of the gigs and festivals I went to and think I'll feature some of these memories and music. I'm going to start with the most recent which was over a year ago. Isn't that sad?

Sometimes I like to listen to XFM and occasionally get completely obsessed by a track I hear. This happened with The Polyphonic Spree's Soldier Girl [click to download the song]. I just adored it and eagerly awaited the release date of the album. I was down at the shop on the release date paying over the odds just to get my copy. Now the album isn't great, but it wasn't a disappointment. As soon as I heard they were touring Gypsy Tart and I booked our tickets for Brixton Academy. Mr McMuffin and Rock Cake said they wanted to come along, but we didn't let this stand in our way.

We all met up after work and fed ourselves at a noodle bar before eagerly anticipating the night's entertainment. We had booked seats in the balcony as we didn't want to get crushed with the hoi polloi. I really regret this. Rock Cake smiled bravely through a painful ear infection and Mr McMuffin, with his poor attention span got bored and wandered off. Gypsy Tart and I made a vow that we would see them again, sans the men in our lives, down in the sweat pit and we would have a bloody good time.

They played Soldier Girl and I was the sad thirty something screaming in appreciation. I found this site with a review of the gig. Sarahphotogirl has posted lots of photos of the band. Some of the photos were taken at the Brixton gig.

Mr McMuffin has embellished this post with more links than you can shake a stick at. Thank goodness we didn't go out with chums to see Master and Commander (please no links) again in Greenwich Park. This would have been fabulous, but the rain isn't. It's just the weather for staying in, watching 24 and writing long, boring posts.

bad food...

There will be no links in this post. With reference to Mrs McMuffin's latest novel, below. The Polyphonic Spree's album promised so much, but their ability to reproduce the sounds of their album perfectly made for a dull evening. They are unique in that this is the only gig that I have walked out of before the end. I sat on the floor outside the bar drinking a pint and reading a trashy magazine that I had found. Wishing that they would turn down the volume...just a little.

help

Karan over at Flummel etc says that our site has gone kaput. It looks like it has been through her microwave. She very kindly sent us this screenshot. Mrs McMuffin loves it and wants to redesign the blog around it. However, I am more interested in what has gone wrong. Is is 'cause I have let in the blogdemon again? Let me know if you see strange things too. Thanks.

just saw something funny

I am sitting at the dining table checking blogs, when I heard a strange tap, tap, tap noise coming from outside. I looked out of the window and saw a very old woman, with a walking stick, looking at the weed infested front bit to our house. It is too small to call it a front garden. She then tap, tap, tapped away down the lane. A couple of minutes later, I heard the now familiar noise. It stopped outside the window, and I could hear a strange rustling sound. Like the secret agent I was born to be, I spied out of the window to see what was going on. The old woman was pulling up weeds. She gathered a big clump of the things, put them in her carrier bag, and went tap, tap, tapping on her way up the lane. When I went outside to take this photo, I realised that when she first stopped she must have been looking at these, debating with herself whether to take some of them. Clearly she was just too honest, and opted to take a few of the prettiest weeds instead. I wish I'd realised. She could have taken whatever she wanted. If I see her again, I'll cut her some to take home.

.mac alias

I thought I was being really clever. I set up a .mac alias for Mr and Mrs McMuffin so that we could email people without giving away our real address. I set up a separate account in Mail and I thought that was that. But, the way it all works is that it duplicates your in box, so instead of currently having 412 messages I ended up with 824. I decided to delete all the messages in the newly created mail box, and YOU know what happened. Yes, I managed to delete all my emails. Fortunately they only go back a couple of months, but I lost quite a few addresses that I hadn't got around to saving in my address book. Oh, well.

audio post

bicentennial man

I am still not getting any work done. I turned on the TV and The Bicentennial Man was just starting. I didn't think that much of it the first time I saw it, but it was much better this time, once you get past the terrible robot outfit that they make Robin Williams wear for the first hour or so of the film. The film did get me thinking about why Andrew Martin would want to be a human being. Why did he not want to be a robot? Maybe it has something to do with Issac Asimov's inability to imagine what a self-determining robot would be like. I guess it is a bit like trying to see the world through the eyes of a dog or a cat. Practically impossible for us to do. The other aspect to it seems to be a touch of some form of racism. It is as if it is impossible to imagine that a machine would not want to be human. Just something to think about, I suppose.

mrs mcmuffin speaks

all apologies

I've just noticed that the 'Blogs we love' link does not include some of our very favourites. I'm not sure how they got pushed out, but I hadn't noticed before as I load from our toolbar not from this link. I shall draw the fickle Mr McMuffin's attention to it immediately.

I now have and he tells me it's a test to see if the nether regions of the blog are ever visited. He would say that, wouldn't he?

i hear voices

I think that from the comments, people might be a little confused as to my origins. For the record, my entire family are Welsh and most are Welsh speaking. I was born and raised in England, so I sound English. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with my parents, so Jo may have picked up the traces. My sisters and I have ended up with idiosyncratic pronunciations and phrases courtesy of the aged ones. Mr McMuffin wanted me to say something in Welsh, so tired after a night with the Profiteroles I was unusually compliant. Here's me saying the little nursery rhyme I blogged about a few weeks ago. I apologise to any native Welsh speakers who are appalled by my tortured mangling of this beautiful language. I also apologise to anyone who cannot resist the temptation to listen, this will be my last audio post. Despite inflicting my constant chatter on others, it's horrible to hear the sound of my own voice.

le weekend

Like most kids, I used to look forward to the long summer holiday from about October. I always imagined that the next one would be the best ever and I would do something amazing every day. Of course they were never like that. Mostly it would be long patches of boredom and rain with my equally bored friends. We seemed to work so hard dreaming up new ways to entertain ourselves. Some days would be sunny and exciting and they would redeem the whole holiday.

The holiday feeling would start to fade by the end of August and the 'Back to School' signs appeared. I would refuse to go into any shop that displayed these signs, trying to persuade my Mum that they didn't deserve our custom for hurting my feelings so unnecessarily. I swear to God that I have seen these signs in shops in July this year, no wonder our nation's children want to grow up so quickly and leave this torture behind.

Anyway, weekends are a bit like the summer holiday for me. I look forward to them from Monday morning and always imagine that they'll be great. Instead they're just OK. Cleaning, gardening seeing friends, seeing family and before you know it, it's Sunday, the depressing 'Back to School' day.

i chefbot

I cooked dinner for Mr McMuffin tonight. He even went back and had seconds. Soon the whole world will be mine.