Whirlwind

I've been suffering manly in silence from the dreaded Man Flu. I've been at Death's door for three days - yesterday, today and tomorrow - but I've struggled on. Anyway, a couple of aspirin later and it's cleared up. But there's a lot of catching up to do. So without further adieu, a quick clearout of my backlog.

Alice's Restaurant Revisited.
Some bloke's been fined £225 ($450) after his family of five overfilled their wheelie bin, which is emptied every two weeks, by four inches. He now has a criminal record for littering and may be forbidden from joining the army and that as a result. I wonder if the council produced any photos in evidence against him? Yes.

Back Off, Brussels!
Playing the bagpipes has been banned (again - the last time was in 1745) following EU health and safety legislation this time. Noise exposure must not exceed 85 decibels, but the pipes typically peak at 122dB. Pipers have been ordered to turn down the volume or wear earplugs. Since bagpipes don't come with a fricking volume control and pipers can't hear themselves while wearing something designed to prevent them from hearing anything, the poor Scotch now have no way to avoid hearing the missus yapping enjoy their musical heritage.

Does My Bum Look Big In This?
Former Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott has plugged his new book by "confessing" that he suffers from bulimia. Having a former bulemic in the family, I know that the symptoms vary from one person to the next, but always include three familiar signs:

1. The patient thinks they're fat. Check.


2. They stuff their faces in public. Check.


3. They look like skin and bone. Er...

Normal service will resume as soon as I work out what's normal.