Killer Shark


I blame Jaws !

The football in the river I photographed yesterday is not there today. I think you should know.

The dog didn’t eat his food last night. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t eat it either. The wife blamed me for tiring him out. He usually prefers what we’re having. Chicken Tonight with rice, pizza, bread, salmon, steak and kidney pie that kind of thing. He goes mad for oatie biscuit. This morning he went outside, thankfully, and chucked up on the patio.

Oh shit, it’s the British Academy Film and Television Awards ( the BAFTA’s ) on the telly tonight. The British Film and Television industry’s annual self congratulatory mutual back slapping convention red carpet at some posh place in London bash. It’s the same as the Oscars only British. The paparrazi will be out at the red carpet and the rubber neckers straining to get a glimpse of their favourite celluloid stars. Warning this next item contains some flash photography !  Wooo look there’s pouty lipped Angelina Jolie in a stunning very expensive Oscar de la Renta dress with just enough cleavage on show to be glamorous but not too much that she looks slutty and sexually needy. No doubt Benedict Cumberbatch will be there as well. I’m sure he’s a nice bloke but I’m getting a bit fed up of seeing him. I’m beginning to think he’s got a body double, like Sadam Hussein and Alan Titchmarsh. I think The Theory of Everything is up for a few awards but seeing as the wife really can’t stand the ceremony, and I can take it or leave it, then we probably won’t be watching it. The best bit for me is when they remind us of all the actor type people  we’ve said goodbye to in the last twelve months. I find it quite moving and I genuinely blubbed the other year when we were reminded of Charlotte Coleman’s untimely death. I fancied her, she reminded me of an ex  girlfriend ( and still friend ) from my early twenties. Took a lovely photo of her on a beach in Zakynthos wrapped in a yellow towel. The girlfriend not Charlotte Coleman.

We don’t go to the cinema anymore. I can’t stand the car park, the foyer, the smell of popcorn,hot dogs and cheap candy. I can’t abide being told where to sit and the fatties we invariably have to sit next to and people who insist on giving a running commentary throughout the film while filling their fat faces with fatty foods. We bumped into some friends on the woods while out with the dog. They can’t stand the cineplex either for the same reasons as us. The last time they went there were two lasses sat behind them talking about Gary’s penis. My friend turned round and asked them if they were going to stop talking. Well he’s a policeman so he’s confident of doing such things. I’d rather just not bother going anymore.

I’ve started to make a list of things I don’t understand which I’ll publish soon under the title of ‘ Things I don’t understand’

Got to go the wife’s making a casserole and the dog’s feeling better.