Crappy Answers To A Crappy Filler Meme

How fucking boring and worthless must my life be if all I have to do is sit here churning out this crap?
TOTALLY fucking boring and worthless, that's how much.
For what they're worth, here are my answers to that stupid meme … Probably best not to read this if you're about to eat.
And a huge thank you and lots of giggles to the fine folk who had a go at this yesterday. You are truly strange people and that's quality I admire.

1. When you were in the womb, what was the weird food your mother craved?

Nothing weird (at least she's not saying), but my mum ate tomatoes by the bucketful, a habit I must have picked up intravenously because I gleefully ingest industrial quantities of that yummy red squishiness to this day.

2. If you had to kill a fellow blogger, who would it be and why?
And no weaselling out of it. You've got to choose one of us and pull that trigger. C'mon! Have a little fun!

I would happily shoot that splendid chap Istvanski and steal his phenomenal guitar collection.

3. Do you own a pair of "cargo pants"? If so, do you know how fucking stupid you look wearing them?

Hell no! I see those hideous clown-pants on other people and shake my head in disbelief.
What in hairy hell do they think they look like?
Dorks; that's what.
They're almost as bad as those stupid fucking three-quarter length baggy trousers designed to make your legs look deformed, or those jeans with the crotch down at knee level that make you look (and walk) like an elephant has shat in there.
For fuck's sake dress elegantly you morons; the world is ugly enough without you adding to it.

4. There has to be a "who would you shag" question in these stupid things so let's make it personal: Which ONE resident of our little town of Blogville would you sleep with and why?

Sheeit. I wanted to say "All of you", but as it's got to be just one I'll narrow it down to those who live in the most beautiful places so when they throw me out on the street at least I've got something good to look at.
That means it's a toss up between Jules in Rabaul and Prudence in the NH Lakes …
Well; I tossed a coin and it's one of you lucky ladies. I'll not say which, but start barricading the door now.

5. Possibly linked to the above, which present from a prospective suitor would most impress you?
(a) jewellery
(b) flowers
(c) shoes
(d) a book token
(e) an erotically-shaped vegetable
(f) other (please specify)
I ask merely for information … ahem.

Me? A book token, every time! In case you're wondering, my favourite ones are the Waterstones' mock credit-cards with Charlie and Lola on them.

6. Which acting parts were you forced to play on stage back at school?
Be honest; we're looking for embarrassment here. Full stories, please.

Yikes! Non-embarrassing ones included:
Cassius in Shakespeare's Julius Cæsar (that was great fun);
Rosencrantz in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead;
Azdak The Judge in Brecht's The Caucasian Chalk Circle;

More embarrassing were:
One of a pair of star-crossed lovers in a Latin play about a luurve triangle. That was actually quite fun; none of the audience understood Latin and I got to push Tubby Cummings into a lake (a hole in the stage with a bathful of water in it) and snog token class fake-redhead Frances Cant (whatever happened to her? … and yes, Jules, there were lizards present) in front of the whole school and our parents …

I was also forced to impersonate a French schoolboy (don't ask) in the same production as the Latin play; only the timing of the evening's events got cocked up through illness and I had to get out of my toga and into a Froggy schoolboy uniform in the time it took for Lizzie Bruce to read a poem on stage (about two minutes).
The problem was that my Latin master had smeared a greasepaint beard on me for the "lover" part and the bloody stuff didn't come off, so I ended up playing a schoolboy in short trousers whilst sporting a rather splendid beard, much to the demented, shrieking apoplexy of my French mistress (actually, I kinda miss that about school; the opportunity to claim I have a French mistress without lying).

Plus various minor and less embarrassing parts way too boring to mention.

7. Hokay kids, let's talk phobias. What totally fucking freaks you out and leaves you whimpering for you mother?

Americans.
Oh, and daytime TV.

8. Which great opponent of Cartesian dualism resists the reduction of psychological phenomena to a physical state and insists there is no point of contact between the extended and the unextended?

Yes, of course it's Henri Bergson, but can you spot the quote? … (and no, it is NOT Cardinal Fang of the Spanish Inquisition as his version of that particular question stopped at "physical state"). I expect only Phil to get this one.

Well, Phil and me and Jules, anyway. It's the question John Cleese asked Mrs. Scum on the quiz show "Spot The Brain Cell" from Monty Python's Live At Drury Lane album; a childhood staple in our house.

9. How many fluffy, rubbery, plastic, wind-up, edible or just plain strange creatures inhabit your personal workspace and what are they?

One pink squishy stress pig, one foot-high rubber Gojira (the proper Toho Studios Gojira, not the crap American Godzilla), one cute, fluffy kangaroo in a bush hat (courtesy of Mme Benaut).

10. Memes are hard work to write. I am SO running out of ideas here … How about: Do you personally find your own genitalia attractive?

Ick! My ball sack has more wrinkles than the entire population of Florida but yes, I have a quite beautiful penis (when it's awake). I also have baby man-boobs and a cute ass if that floats anyone's boat.

11. Here's a topical one as the Olympics have just finished: Naked, greased and sent up to your room: Mark Spitz or Michael Phelps?

I'd have to go for Spitz; that moustache would turn any guy's head.

12. Great on-screen love affairs. Fess up; which one gets you hot/moist/whatever?

Raul Julia and Anjelica Huston as the incendiary Gomez and Morticia Addams.

13. Still on movies, who would you have play you in your bipoic?

Is Jabba the Hutt a real person?
Oh …
Okay then, I'll go for Keira Knightley. We have the same sized boobs.

14. What's your regular coffee shop order?

Medium skinny latte first thing in the morning; double espressos after that.

15. Give it up with two of life's great mysteries.

First up: why, oh why did Christina Ricci have to grow up? I was so in love with Wednesday Addams.
Secondly: Jennifer Aniston. What the fuck happened there?

16. What's the most disgusting thing you've ever eaten? We'll exclude "my own semen" from this for reasons well known to trawlers of my archives.

It's probably got to be my home made wasabi chocolate experiment.

17. Clowns; do they make you:
(a) Laugh,
(b) Sudder,
(c) Horny?

Clowns creep me out. I just wanna slap those fuckers.

18. Who was the last person you told to "Fuck off!"?

I think that phrase might have slipped in to the stream of rather inventive invective I screamed at a moron towing a caravan who had stopped in the middle of the dual carriageway to read a map while I was coming home from the city this morning.

19. An alphabet of "Who's the best" …
(a) Bond?
Connery.
(b) Batman?
Adam West. No Messing.
(c) Monster in Gojira movies (other than the rubbery one himself)?
Mothra. Yay!
(d) Member of Village People?
The cop. He was fucking hilarious.
(e) Member of the Banana Splits?
Why, Snorky of course.
(f) Simpsons supporting cast member?
Edna Crabappel (red hot mama)!
(g) Beatle?
Lennon.
(h) Magnificent Seven character?
Yul Brynner.
(i) Frasier or Niles?
Shit! I model my entire life on both of them but at a pinch I'd go for Niles as he's prissier and I confess to doing that thing with the hankie before I sit down in the coffee shop.
(j) Character in Doonesebury (my primary source for US politics since around 1970)?
Zonker Harris.
(k) Osmond?
Mawie. I love a girl who has cute "R"s.
(l) Disney baddie?
Cruella deVille, dahlings.
(m) Bond Girl?
Akiko Wakabayashi in You Only Live Twice. No contest.
(n) Bond villian?
Jaws, though Sean Bean did a pretty decent job in Goldeneye.
(o) Member of the Partridge Family?
Hoorah for sexy Susan Dey.
(p) Radio DJ?
Verity Sharp from Radio 3's Late Junction. I love her total bored disinterest in her listeners, her interviewees and anyone who isn't a rabid fan of Norwegian jazz and Tibetan throat-singing.
She also has sexy warts.
(q) Non-monotheistic deity?
Zeus was a tricksy bastard and quite fun, but I'll go for Shiva, the Destroyer … all those arms must make her a dab hand at the washing up.
(r) Fictional deity?
I always rather liked Terry Pratchet's "Oh God" Of Hangovers.
(s) Monkee?
Mike Nesmith.
(t) Witch: Samantha off "Bewitched", Hermione Granger or Willow Rosenberg?
Well they're all three cute and sexy but you know me; I'm a Willow Rosenberg man and I always will be.
(u) M.A.S.H. character?
Radar.
(v) Flintstone?
Betty Rubble. Hubba-hubba!
(w) Tom or Ray, off Car Talk?
Both of 'em!
(x) Jackson?
Rev. Jesse (I don't remember seeing him in the Jackson Five but my memory's not what it was so I'll just assume).
(y) Jedi?
Answer you I will, for Yoda it is.
(z) Member of your household?
Stouffer seems to have found a gun from somewhere so I think I'll agree that it's him.

20. An alphabet of "Who's the crappest" …
(a) Bond?
Timothy Dalton.
(b) Batman?
Val Kilmer. Twat.
(c) Monster in Gojira movies?
Megalon. I mean what the fuck?
(d) Member of Village People?
The Native American.
(e) Member of the Banana Splits?
Drooper.
(f) Simpsons supporting cast member?
The salty sea captain.
(g) Beatle?
Does not compute.
(h) Magnificent Seven character?
The annoying kid.
(i) Frasier or Niles?
There is not a trace of crap in either of them.
(j) Character in Doonesebury?
Rick was so lame.
(k) Osmond?
Little Jimmy.
(l) Disney baddie?
Captain Hook … What a non-evil let-down.
(m) Bond Girl?
Jill what's-her-face from that stupid one in Vegas.
(n) Bond villian?
Christopher Walken. What was he thinking?
(o) Member of the Partridge Family?
That shitty little ginger kid. If ever a kid was in need of a good slapping ….
(p) Radio DJ?
Tony Blackburn. Back in the good old days of Stiff Records in the seventies (remember my teeshirt: "If it ain't STIFF it ain't worth a fuck"?), Binky Baker had a hit with an anti-Tony Blackburn song, the first verse of which was simply Tony Blackburn's name sung over and over; each verse after that simply moved the syllables forward by one progressively until we got to the rousing fourth verse where we all sung "Burn Tony Black" at the tops of our voices. Ah, memories.
(q) Non-monotheistic deity?
Venus. Goddess of Love? Pah! She's done fuck all for me.
(r) Fictional deity?
Glorificus from Buffy. Boy, did that goddess suck. What a bitch!
(s) Monkee?
Peter Tork. Come on, people! What was he DOING there?
(t) Witch: Samantha off "Bewitched", Hermione Grainger or Willow Rosenberg?
So tough! I've got the hots for all of 'em but I'll call Samantha the lamest as she was too dumb to ditch Darren.
(u) M.A.S.H. character?
Frank Burns … Duh.
(v) Flintstone?
Barney. What the hell did Betty see in that dumb schmuck? She should have been mine … MINE, I tell you!
(w) Tom or Ray, off Car Talk?
Neither of 'em!
(x) Jackson?
The Plastic Pædophile himself (alleged, of course … ahem).
(y) Jedi?
Lame Luke Skywanker. Probably the crappiest lead character in a movie ever!
(z) Member of your household?
Old Dive, of course. So lame-ass that I can't even think of anything to post except this shitty biscuit of a meme.

Filler Meme Crapfest

Hey, Maria! Where have all the memes gone? You used to churn out those things like a politician churns out lies.
Savannah posted a book meme recently but I'd already done that one ages ago.
Bummer.
What on earth am I going to do for filler crap without a completely pointless meme to play with?

Sigh …
Better write my own dumb crapfest.
Eyes down for Twenty Dive Questions.

Hokay, the usual meme rules apply: yadda yadda yadda, so feel free to ignore them.
A lot of this is even lamer than usual as I am feeling spectacularly uninspired right now.
I'll post my own answers in a little while.
Have a go yourself if you're feeling so bored that you might otherwise gnaw off your own arm for something better to do.

1. When you were in the womb, what was the weird food your mother craved?

2. If you had to kill a fellow blogger, who would it be and why?
And no weaselling out of it. You've got to choose one of us and pull that trigger. C'mon! Have a little fun!

3. Do you own a pair of "cargo pants"? If so, do you know how fucking stupid you look wearing them?

4. There has to be a "who would you shag" question in these stupid things so let's make it personal: Which ONE resident of our little town of Blogville would you sleep with and why?

5. Possibly linked to the above, which present from a prospective suitor would most impress you?
(a) jewellery
(b) flowers
(c) shoes
(d) a book token
(e) an erotically-shaped vegetable
(f) other (please specify)
I ask merely for information … ahem.

6. Which acting parts were you forced to play on stage back at school?
Be honest; we're looking for embarrassment here. Full stories, please.

7. Hokay kids, let's talk phobias. What totally fucking freaks you out and leaves you whimpering for you mother?

8. Which great opponent of Cartesian dualism resists the reduction of psychological phenomena to a physical state and insists there is no point of contact between the extended and the unextended?

Yes, of course it's Henri Bergson, but can you spot the quote? … (and no, it is NOT Cardinal Fang of the Spanish Inquisition as his version of that particular question stopped at "physical state"). I expect only Phil to get this one.

9. How many fluffy, rubbery, plastic, wind-up, edible or just plain strange creatures inhabit your personal workspace and what are they?

10. Memes are hard work to write. I am SO running out of ideas here … How about: Do you personally find your own genitalia attractive?

11. Here's a topical one as the Olympics have just finished: Naked, greased and sent up to your room: Mark Spitz or Michael Phelps?

12. Great on-screen love affairs. Fess up; which one gets you hot/moist/whatever?

13. Still on movies, who would you have play you in your bipoic?

14. What's your regular coffee shop order?

15. Give it up with two of life's great mysteries.

16. What's the most disgusting thing you've ever eaten? We'll exclude "my own semen" from this for reasons well known to trawlers of my archives.

17. Clowns; do they make you:
(a) Laugh,
(b) Sudder,
(c) Horny?

18. Who was the last person you told to "Fuck off!"?

19. An alphabet of "Who's the best" …
(a) Bond?
(b) Batman?
(c) Monster in Gojira movies (other than the rubbery one himself)?
(d) Member of Village People?
(e) Member of the Banana Splits?
(f) Simpsons supporting cast member?
(g) Beatle?
(h) Magnificent Seven character?
(i) Frasier or Niles?
(j) Character in Doonesebury (my primary source for US politics since around 1970)?
(k) Osmond?
(l) Disney baddie?
(m) Bond Girl?
(n) Bond villian?
(o) Member of the Partridge Family?
(p) Radio DJ?
(q) Non-monotheistic deity?
(r) Fictional deity?
(s) Monkee?
(t) Witch: Samantha off "Bewitched", Hermione Granger or Willow Rosenberg?
(u) M.A.S.H. character?
(v) Flintstone?
(w) Tom or Ray, off Car Talk?
(x) Jackson?
(y) Jedi?
(z) Member of your household?

20. An alphabet of "Who's the crappest" …
(a) Bond?
(b) Batman?
(c) Monster in Gojira movies?
(d) Member of Village People?
(e) Member of the Banana Splits?
(f) Simpsons supporting cast member?
(g) Beatle?
(h) Magnificent Seven character?
(i) Frasier or Niles?
(j) Character in Doonesebury?
(k) Osmond?
(l) Disney baddie?
(m) Bond Girl?
(n) Bond villian?
(o) Member of the Partridge Family?
(p) Radio DJ?
(q) Non-monotheistic deity? .
(r) Fictional deity?
(s) Monkee?
(t) Witch: Samantha off "Bewitched", Hermione Grainger or Willow Rosenberg?
(u) M.A.S.H. character?
(v) Flintstone?
(w) Tom or Ray, off Car Talk?
(x) Jackson? .
(y) Jedi?
(z) Member of your household?

Mme et M Benaut à Londres. Pt.4

So here we are with the final day of Mme and MB's mad dash around London.

Aren't they just so irresistibly huggable?

We stop for coffee by the London Eye. A ride on the big wheel has been something both Mme and MB have been looking forward to for a long time.
If you want to see lots of photos of the structure itself and the wonderful views from the top, trawl the "London" link in my archives; today we are just here to enjoy the company of these two wonderful people.

All aboard!
Normally I'd advise turning up at ten to ride the Eye; it opens officially at ten-thirty but they start it up earlier and you can often get a whole gondola with only two or three people in at that time of day.

Having said that, they were putting around twenty-five to thirty people in each gondola and - as you can see - even that's not too crowded.

MB took more photos in here than the rest of the trip together. He'll have the entire city from the air when he downloads them all.
You've got to admit, he looks pretty dapper with a camera.

Of course, he'll also have quite a few photos of my fat, ugly mug. Hey ho.

Just coming out of the side of Mme's hair is The Parasite House with the park and lake in front of it. If you know where to look you can see the bridge over the lake where, a short time before we had stood and photographed the Eye.

MB checks out the Gherkin in the distance.

In case any of you (yes, I mean you, mum) are put off the Eye because you can't stand heights, this is what it is actually like inside the gondolas.
Plenty of room to sit and enjoy the view without having to look down.

I don't know what the guy at the back there just said to the blonde woman but it looks like he's going to suffer for the rest of the day because of it.

This is what we look like from the other gondolas.
Actually, on the way up and down the sides of the Eye you can see right up the skirts of the weemen above you.
Rule One: Wear trousers if you're going on the Eye, ladies.

So that just about wraps it up for our way too short fun day out in London with the lovely Benauts.
Here I am pointing out my office to MB … just above the trees behind Big Ben.

After we disembarked, Mme did a fast sprint around the Salvador Dali exhibition in County Hall and we took a cab back to their hotel for a cuppa and a look at their WONDERFUL wedding photos from "The Wirral Wedding" (coming soon to Mme and MB's blogs when they return home and well worth waiting for) and a gorgeous photo of Lynn with Mme.

I miss them so much. London's a pretty dull place now they've headed off to dash round the rest of Europe.
Do follow their exploits on the various blogs of the folk they're visiting (the links are on Lynn's blog).
I just look forward to making a return visit to Adelaide and enjoying their marvellous company once more.

Let's Make A Racket - XXII

It's Thursday, so it's time to slink off down to the Blues Club and witness another staggeringly shambolic mess from the embarrassing old guys.

Here are Steve, Michael, Dave, Laurie and Old Dive drunkenly stumbling around and occasionally bumping into "I'm Just Your Fool".

Mme et M Benaut à Londres. Pt.3

For anyone tuning in to listen to the regular Thursday Racket, I'll be posting that later today, but first …
Woohoo! We're back in London with Mme and MB.

Well here we are at lunchtime, having left the British Museum and caught a taxi (via an internet café where Mme checked out some of your posts, especially Lynn's) to one of my favourite lunchtime haunts, Piccadilly Circus.

Yes, Phil; I know "Eros" isn't really Eros but is in fact a statue of the spirit of something or other, but it's still a romantic place for a photo of a romantic couple, so duh!

Anyhoo, we promenaded pleasantly along Piccadilly, grabbing a whole bunch of sushi from Yoshino to eat in Green Park. And here we are doing just that.

On our way, we took a look at the Royal Academy and Burlington Arcade and a few other places (Mme got sidetracked by the Cashmere Shop).
Then we stopped in at Fortnums to buy some tea and generally lark about. MB took loads of photos in there which I hope will see the light of day when they get home.

Another great shot which is on MB's camera but sadly not mine is of Mme posing with a very happy-looking doorman at the Ritz Club. We Brits do appreciate an antipodean cuddle. Hee hee.

And of course, as any fule kno, beside the Ritz is Green Park - where we stopped to devour our sushi, and where you'll find me doing just that at least one day every week - and between Green Park and St.James's Park lies The Parasite House.

Of course I wasn't really looking at the bottom of the girl behind Mme, who was herself photographing a handsome fellow decked out with breathtaking sartorial elegance. I can just hear the girl: "Okay, don't smile at the camera; make a face like you've just crapped yourself … Lovely!"
Sorry about that. One of the joys of digital cameras is that tiny things in the background that went unnoticed at the time can be enlarged and giggled at.

We visited the day after the Olympics hand-over party and the whole place was like a builders' yard, with workmen demolishing corporate hospitality suites and lugging stage gear into lorries.
In this photo you may just notice MB appears to have grown an extra head.

Just as tourists cannot come to London without photographing The Parasite House, an English Marxist and a proud South Australian cannot help but show our respects to the so-called "Royal" Family with a splendid Bottom Salute!

I love this photo so much I make no excuses for posting it again.
When Mme wasn't off chasing squirrels around the park (another plus for Australia - it is devoid of the annoying tree rats) and spotting exotic trees, we came to one of the most romantic spots in London, the bridge over St.James's Park lake.
This is the classic shot with The Parasite House in the background.

And this is the view the other way, with Horseguards' Parade above Mme's head, Downing Street behind the trees in the middle and the London Eye in the distance.
And yes, dear reader, that is just where we'll be heading in tomorrow's post.

But along our way (after yet more squirrel chasing, during which Mme was delighted to watch one of the little blighters burying a peanut for the winter about two feet in front of her) we just happened to pass Westminster Abbey.
Gosh, London is just full to the brim with romantic photo locations.
And bloody squirrels …

Where those people are standing just in front of the main door is where I met our lovely Robyn when she came to visit last year.
I do love the fact that all I have to do is stay still and blogpals come from all over the world to visit me. It sure saves on air fares!

Yay! The Clock Tower of the Palace of Westminster … aka Big Ben (yes, fellow pedants, I KNOW Big Ben is just the name of the bell).
It went "BONGGGGGGGGGGGG!" four times while we were having coffee shortly after this.
Well, Mme and MB had coffee; I - being the pedantic Englishman - had iced tea, four o'clock being High Tea time.

Hokay … so we were supposed to be doing impersonations of Winnie, but …

… I think I'll leave the caption for this one to your own delightfully twisted imaginations.

Big Ben is actually quite big. This one's for la belle Marie who asked us to blow a kiss to BB for her.

Wet stuff! It's Old Father Thames himself, flowing under Westminster Bridge, while we walked over it to reach …
… well, a coffee shop for one thing.
But the other thing will get posted tomorrow, in the final installment of Mme et M Benaut à Londres.
Miss it and I'll come round and slap you.

Mme et M Benaut à Londres. Pt.2

Right!
While the lovely Mme and MB frolic in beautiful Paris with M.Eric, we shall continue our four day post of their London adventures.

First up, let's head across the city to the charming Bloomsbury area - home to Virginia Woolf and her chums - where we shall find street after street of elegant Regency mansions and …

… er … The Imperial Hotel.
In its defence, it was built on a bombed out area of Russell Square, but MB and myself (fellow Architects) did have to chuckle at the sheer 1960's Las Vegas awfulness of it.

Having said that, it is much nicer inside and the Benaut's room on the fifth floor boasted amazing views over central London, including - just across Russell Square - the magnificent roof of the British Museum, where we shall be heading in a little while.

I arrived a few minutes early and had barely settled in to the astonishingly comfortable leather sofa when into the foyer strolled our hero, the unmistakable figure of Monsieur B. himself!
Yaaaaay!
Hugs and grins all round.
The one thing you'll notice when you get to meet Mme and MB is a wonderful, warm-hearted openness that makes you feel you've been lifelong friends.

We headed up to their room for many more hugs with Mme (something I miss already … hee hee) and planned our day like overexcited children.

I must apologise for posting this shot (yeah, right) … Mme said "I think my eyes were closed on that one", but the piddly little screen on the back of my crappy camera made it look like they were open. It was only when I got home and launched Photoshop that I noticed both Mme and MB were snatching a brief nap.
I know I'm dull company, but sheesh! We'd only met five minutes ago and already they were asleep.

And so we wandered across the square to the magnificent British Museum, one of my favourite London hang-outs (hey, it's free and a truly awesome place to watch the girls go by).
The first thing anybody does when they walk into the central atrium is look up. I've posted many photos of the roof, so you all know how spiffy it is.
Of course, MB and I immediately got stuck into the technical side of the construction … Boys, huh … We grow old but we never grow up.

We didn't have much time so we whizzed around a few of the more spectacular rooms in the BM.
Everybody wants to see the Rosetta Stone and the Benauts are no exception.

I've seen it so many times I snuck around the back, where nobody bothers to go.
Through the glass you can see Mme and MB photographing the front.

And here they are again. The scrummage around the Stone makes it impossible to photograph properly unless you come here in winter.
Of course, being as tall as MB is an advantage.

Now THIS would look FABULOUS in Mme's beautiful garden!
We couldn't quite fit it in our pockets but it would have been great for the cats and koalas to play on.

Elgin and his thieving cronies made Lara Croft look like a rank amateur.
Tomb Raider? Pah!
Hell, let's steal the entire temple!

MB's an Architect. I can quite imagine a replica of this appearing as a quaint folly in their Adelaide garden one day.

Ah, one for Lynn … The "Cheltenham Ladies" caryatid, with The Adelaide Lady outshining it.

To my eternal guilt I am afraid I rather walked Mme's feet off. Doing London in an afternoon is a mad dash and we covered more miles than was strictly necessary.
I grovel abjectly at your feet in humble apology, Mme.

But at least we found a nice chair in the Elgin Marbles room so Mme could rest for a minute while MB and myself tore around the place, taking photos of anything and everything (note his "action photographer" pose. Hee hee).
When MB unloads his camera in Adelaide there will be many, many more photos of all this. I'm assuming you've all seen the marbles so I'm just photographing Mme and MB, but if you want to dig in my archives (the London label might be a good place to start) there are dozens of British Museum photos in there, though you may have to dig deep.

I was trying to get this lady scratching MB's head, but it came out that he's resting his cheek upon her rather lovely bosom.
And who can blame him?

While Mme checks out the café below us, MB does the Architect pose, with a beautiful neoclassical pediment, Ionic columns and that glorious modern roof.

Before we dashed off to our next destination we simply had to hunt through the hundreds of mummies to find these babies for Sascha and the tribe back in Adelaide.
Mummified cats! Cool!
You'll notice I am on my best behaviour and there are no pussy jokes … er .

One last shot of that fabulous roof and that equally fabulous MB.

Where are we heading tomorrow?
Tune in to find out.

Mme et M Benaut à Londres. Pt.1

This is just a quick teaser trailer for what's to come as I got home way past bedtime last night and am about to head back to work in Westminster. I'll post the full story over the coming days.

Mme. et M. Benaut in St.James's Park

There are very, very few people in this world with whom one cannot help but fall completely in love.
This is a photograph of two of them: the indescribably wonderful Mme. and M. Benaut, over from Adelaide on the London leg of their Grand European Tour.

We had such a fantastic time together for which I cannot thank them enough.
Mme. and MB are truly wonderful, warm, loving, generous people and such brilliant and stimulating company. I hated leaving them and must confess that on the train out of London I felt a deep aching sense of loss and just wanted to turn the train around and rush back to their hotel to spend more time with them.

They have already visited our Lynn in Tewkesbury (please see here, here and here) and as you read this, they will be speeding their way across the Channel to Paris and the welcoming arms of Eric, to whom I can only say "You are in for a wonderful time!"

Tune in tomorrow (and for the rest of the week) for lots of photos and fun!
And don't forget to follow our lovely couple as they travel around France, Italy and Germany.

Oh, Behave!

Yeah, baby!
I'm off to swinging London to show Madame and Monsieur Benaut a groovy, shagadelic time.

While we're behaving inappropriately, here is some rather appropriate music.

Joy, The Papparazzo

While I'm sat on my lazy arse enjoying the first relaxing weekend I've spent at home in ages (if you count housework as relaxing), here's another post from last weekend's Festival of Cultures.

Joy sent me a bunch of photos during the week so we could play a game of "Spot Dive". I've not included all of them because I seemed to turn up all over the place so there were far too many.
I could of course get my revenge by posting "Spot Joy" instead (she's rushing around in about sixty of my Festival photos) but I'm too much of a gentleman (HA!).

So …
Can you spot fat, baldy old Dive?

This one's just a practice. Yes, that's me hovering like a vulture ready to steal Jong's yummy food as soon as he's set up.

This one's a little harder, though I could easily spot Thom and Rosita.

Ha! Tricky … I'm behind the camera in this one. Don'tcha just love sugar-sweet, icky-cute little kids?
No?
Nor me. Monsters, the lot of 'em.

Those are my bags under the table.

How not to walk elegantly.

More icky-cuteness.
Never, EVER let kids have drums.

As soon as the salsa lessons were announced, Thom and I ran away and hid.

Ah, these kids I DO love. Martha, Mave and JM, the little Jonglets.
Again, Dive is hidden behind the camera on this one.

This is my favourite of all of Joy's photos of me. It's my best side.

Yay for belly dancers with actual bellies! These were the owners of the henna hands on last weekend's Festival post.
If you managed to Spot Dive successfully then I really think you should consider changing your lifestyle and doing something far more useful with your time on a Sunday afternoon.

So … Tomorrow I will be heading off to London to meet our lovely blogpals Madame et Monsieur Benaut from the land down under and making lots of jokes about the Australian Olympic Team getting trashed in the medals table by a bunch of whingeing poms.
Hee hee hee.
Don't worry, I'll take lots of photos.