note to self

No matter what the temptation, please try to avoid any overtly political blogging as it often offends people who really like Mr Bush and support the war in (against?) Iraq. While generally you have not counted these people among your friends, you realise that you should not limit your circle to those who agree with you on important issues. Remember that you can tolerate dissent, some of your best friends do not admire the work of Charlie Sheen, while you know that he is not wooden and unable to act his way out of a paper bag, but a sensitive actor who gives the appearance of not really acting at all, but in the style of Anthony Hopkins inhabits the part. Remember you can learn from the US right wing, their use of language to demonise is second to none and as a compliment to our lovely commenter who took time to write a well thought out and lengthy response, you will try and incorporate the words terror master into ordinary conversation.

dear mr b*u*s*h

I don't know why you and your friends are having so many problems understanding this:

Osama Bin Laden was not a friend of Saddam Hussein and did not plan any attacks with him. Saddam was a very unpopular man all over the world. Saddam did not have weapons of mass destruction lying around Iraq. Invading Iraq has no logical connection to the events of 9/11, other than to show the world that the US government is keen on embroiling itself in another useless war and likes to have idiot patsies who will go along with this.

If you would like me to explain this to you in more detail, then please give me a ring and arrange a time to come over. I know you don't have my phone number and I am ex directory, but I'm sure you can get someone to track it down. Wish you could find that Osama though.

closer

We just watched Closer. I had no idea that Julia Roberts was a photographer. She took some really nice pictures. It's amazing how talented some people are.

been a while (down our street once more)

You'll never guess why we haven't been blogging over the last couple of days. No really, you won't. We were just eating a slice of Mr McMuffin's birthday cake when we had a phone call from Julia Roberts inviting us over for dinner. Well I had to tell her we'd already eaten and we weren't going to babysit the twins again, so that they could have an evening at Pizza Hut (they have such pedestrian tastes), when Julia surprised us by suggesting that we all go to a Mongolian barbeque restaurant. Well, I don't rate them, but she wanted to give it a go. We invited Jen and Gypsy Tart, but they were drunk and slagging off men again, so we didn't press the matter.

So, Mr McMuffin and I ate a small bowl each and Julia and Dan tucked away so much food I thought they were going to go Mr Creosote on me. Fortunately they didn't explode, but the pressure seemed to be released by constant farting. It was disgusting and we were on the verge on leaving them to stink the place up on their own, when we realised that they were both quite ill. We rushed them to hospital and they were in all weekend, so Mr McMuffin and I had to look after the little ones.

Well I take my hat off to Julia. I was exhausted after two days and I have no idea how she does it day after day in that little two up, two down terrace they live in. I'll be a bit more sympathetic to her babysitting requests now and the next time some showbiz mag slags her off, I'll tell them where to stick their nasty lies.

this is my last post tonight...

Just thought I'd say that. That's all.

roast potatoes

Are we the only people to have discovered the joys, and I don't use that word lightly, of frozen roast potatoes? I bought a bag a few weeks ago just to see what they were like. They are fantastic. Crisp on the outside and lovely and fluffy on the inside. The best bit is that they are done in about 30 minutes. We have now introduced Mr Rock Cake, a roast potato aficionado if ever there was one, and he has become hopelessly addicted to them. Last night, it was Ms Ginger Cake's turn. She was so easy to convert. I imagine that her shopping trolley will be filled with frozen roast potatoes this weekend. The only problem that I can see with them is that the list of ingredients, which insists that they are made with real potato, states there is only 88% potato in them. I am a little scared to think about what could be in that lost 12%. It's probably best not to think about it too much. Do yourself a favour, try them.

I know, I know, of course they're not as good as real potatoes cooked in goose fat, but they are still very good.

why?

You are probably wondering why I am sitting here on my birthday writing post after post. Well it 7.20pm and I still haven't heard anything from Mrs McMuffin. I am hoping that she is preparing a lovely surprise for me, but I don't know if I can wait much longer. I'm sitting here getting slightly drunk, and I'm starving. Where is she?

I've just had a visit from Ms Ginger Cake, I'm sure she's in on this too, who just popped in to give me a present. It's lovely. A big chrome ice crusher. Very, very pretty. I just wish I had some ice to crush. I think it will definitely be a margarita weekend now.

i made her cry

When we were in Madeira we booked a table at a nice restuarant on Saturday night. This is the fourth year that Madeira has celebrated the Atlantic Festival. I'm not sure what it's all about but they have a massive, and I mean massive, spectacular, fireworks display every Saturday night during June. Last year the display was sponsored by Australia. This year it was Japan's turn. We decided to book at table at the same place we went to last year. I don't know if you remember but it was the place that found Mrs McMuffin's purse after she lost it. Last year the food was great and we had a lovely evening. This year the food was absolutely the worst I have had anywhere. We sat for over an hour before our starters arrived. I had mussels. They served up those massive foreign green lip things which they probably bought frozen from the local supermarket, and then they overcooked them until they were like tastless leather. Ms Gypsy Tart had limpets, which had been fresh at some point because they were still gritty. These they managed to turn into leather too. I can't remember what the others had, only that it was all crap. We waited another hour for our main course to arrive. To add insult to injury we watched people arrive after us eating their meals. We managed to drink three bottles of wine with hardly any food, and we were all getting a little bit drunk. Me, I was just getting angrier and angrier. I finally couldn't stand it anymore, and I called the waitress over to complain. She was deeply apologetic, telling me that the food would be with us soon. I asked her what she was going to do about this mess. She told me that I would have some lovely food. We went through this a couple of times. Then she told me that the poor service hurt her because we were very special to her. I gave up at this point and gave the universal sign for hard cash, at which point she started to cry. She said that we would have lovely food and then rushed off towards the kitchen.

During all of this Mrs McMuffin was having a paroxysm beside me. She is very Welsh and English at times like this, which can be terrible combination. She hates to complain, and she hates me to make a fuss about anything in public. So, we hissed at each other through clenched teeth for a few minutes. You could have cut the atmosphere around our table with a knife. I could see that other people were turning to watch us. Fortunately I was a little bit too drunk to give a toss. The rest of our party just sat in silence, slowing getting drunker and drunker, even Ms Ginger Cake, who hardly drinks at all.

When our main meal arrived I picked at it for a second, but I just couldn't bear the idea of paying for that meal, so I made my excuses and left leaving the rest of them to decide what they wanted to do. I like to think that I did this with a considerable degree of grace.

I watched the lovely fireworks sitting at a nearby cafe drinking coffee, all by myself. A lovely end to the evening. Turned out later that eveyone agreed with me about the meal, and they all wanted to leave, but couldn't quite bring themselves to cause a fuss. At times like this it's hard to believe that in the not too distant past most of the world was frightened of the British. Little did all those countries that we took over, just because we could, realise that all they had to do was put us in a position where we had to make a fuss or complain about something.

happy birthday...

...to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear Mr McMuffin. Happy birthday to me. And many mooooooore.

dolphins in madeira

It was practically impossible to take any decent photos of the dolphins, but I snapped away like mad and a couple came out quite nice. I like this one. It was a bit strange seeing dolphins in the sea this close. I have only ever seen them before on TV or from a distance in the sea. Of course, I don't really count my visit to Seaworld. I must admit that they reminded me a bit of dogs, always sticking their noses in things, and always on the look out for a bit of fun. I was able to take a little movie of these beautiful creatures playing around our boat, so here are Dolphins in Madeira, which sounds like a rather tasty dish.

By the way, this is Mrs McMuffin sneaking in to wish Mr McMuffin a very happy birthday, despite him turning up his nose at my fabulous birthday plans. What's wrong with an evening countryside picnic?