The A Team Revisited

In 1972 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. In 2005 a crack drunken unit (fuelled by lemon Absolute mixed with ginger ale and Coronas) argued who they would have play different characters if they were re-making The A Team. Today, not wanted by any TV producers, they survive as office-workers of no fortune. If you have some ideas, and no one else will listen, maybe you can recreate the A-Team.

Our new, certainly-not-improved, A Team cast include:

* Colonel John Hannibal Smith: Sean Connery - authority + right colour hair + ability to smoke cigars

* Lieutenant Templeton 'Face' Peck: Colin Farrell (pretty boy enough and not one for fighting)

* Sergeant Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus: A tough one. We ended up agreeing on 'The Rock'

* Captain 'Howling Mad' Murdock: Will Farrell (without the elf costume)

Not content with ruining the 80s classic with this list we then ended up creating the 'B' team (where B = British)

* Hannibal: Roy Walker (yes, we could have had Sean again but Roy would add a certain something - such as saying "It's good but it's not right" when the plan doesn't come together)

* Face: Robbie Williams (he could also be understudy for Murdock, though we came up with a far stronger character here)

* B.A.: Grant Mitchell from 'EastEnders'

* HMM: Freddie Star was an obvious choice

Kentucky Fried Face

Many thanks to Gordon Gekko who took a break from Wall Street to send over the picure below in response to the entry below ‘Special Little Princess (non-veggie)’. Gordon says it's absurdly grisly (or should that be gristly…) and just the perfect thing in your Family Bucket…

Drink and online access: Not a good idea

I take back yesterday's post saying I'd never been so tired. *Somehow* this morning I feel worse.

Woke up (with light on, book in hand and something from the mini bar in the other) and I seem to have, rather charitably, done my bit to support the local wine and distillery trade.

Spent the evening drinking with customers, so at the time it seemed to be the right thing to do. Not so sure this morning. Oh, and I also may have spent the early hours stumbling around the internet, so apologies to anyone I sidled up to and just started chatting to/ repeating how much I like you / singing to.

It won't happen again - I should at this point say that I'm going to give up drinking but I think a more realistic way to avoid it is to put my computer away before I go out and get shedded. Indeed.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I think this is the most tired I have ever felt – I meant to spend last night packing to go to Italy followed by an early night with Doug* but instead I went to see the ‘Chihuhy nights of glass’ at Kew, which was spectacular (she said trying to upload photos).

Then I spend too long drinking tea at a stockbroker’s house and having derivatives and the danger of an overweight US market (typical of the US I said… but it seemed we were talking about something unrelated to ‘Supersize Me’ cultures) explained to me. Tried knawing my own arm off but many of these finance types seem to have some sort of blinkers and can’t sense boredom / desperation. Pat - you are *entirely* to blame, take note.

Then when I got home for some unknown reason I watched TV. Then I realised it was half past twelve, my washing was still sitting in the machine and I hadn’t packed a thing. As I was crawling into bed (wishing it was much, much earlier), I suddenly remembered that I was meant to print off something for the person I am going to see in Italy – so set my alarm for half three to give me time to get to the office, do said printing then get to Heathrow by 4.30am.

So here I am in the departure lounge – feeling sick, uncaffeinated (no coffee shops open… obviously it’s a shocker to Heathrow terminal two that you might want - nay need - coffee at this time of the day) and waiting for my number to be called on the boarding card bingo – “currently boarding seats in row 25 to 26 only”.

(Few hours later) - Made it – following a terrifying drive. Unfortunately I didn’t know the Italian for ‘when are you planning on taking your driving test?’ or ‘please for the love of God, let me get out and walk down the motorway, it’ll be safer.’


* Douglas Coupland. Well not him personally but at least with some of his thoughts.

Special Little Princess (non-veggie)

My friend Spesh (short for 'Special Princess', long story) has an adorable little girl, who I am 'fairy godmother*' to, a five-year old who this week has just made the first connection between chicken that you eat and chickens that run round on farms. Spesh was concerned that this might be a problem. The conversation went something like this:

Spesh: (Wrapping up lengthy explanation to small child) ..so, the chicken we're eating is the same as the chicken on the farm.

Small child: Really?

Spesh: (Nervous in case child is traumatised by this discovery) Yes, do you want to decide what bit of the chicken you want to eat?

Small child: Yes - can I have the face?

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VERDICT: Small child unlikely to be veggie. It may be sick but it made me laugh.

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* I didn't chose that title and although I pretend to dislike it most of the time, I don't really.

Matty and D in town

Have walked about a gazillion miles today - and I went swimming first thing this morning. My body will never be the same again (let's hope).

Have visitors for the weekend - Matty and D so seeing all of London in one weekend.

Started off in St James Park, where the squirrels seem to be tamer than the people (is this natural selection at work? Darwin could have saved the money he splashed out on that return ticket on the Beagle.) Didn't see any rabid squirrels, more's the shame - must be too busy terrorising the residents of Brixton.

There's that whole thig about squirrels being 'rats with tails' (horribly inacurate, seeing as they're in different families, let alone genus). Poor misunderstood creatures (humans who can't tell the difference between one and another).



Then headed to Trafalgar Square to see what we thought of Marc Quinn's Allison Lapper in the marble. Followed by lunch in the crypt of St Martins (highly recommended, though Matty thought it was awful that we were sat on gravestones). Round to the Strand, up to Covent Garden to find the walk of the stars (more of a short stroll than an actual walk) before heading up to Picadilly to see the clock at Fortnum and Mason. We were the *only* people in London watching it (probably due to the high liklihood of being run over standing in the middle of Piccadilly). Had dinner courtesy of Annie's, fabulous as always.