pixie world

Well welcome to the world of the pixies. Anybody who has ever moved from A to B will know that at some point someone has to a start packing up all the stuff, this job is done by the pixies. Getting all the boxes out..done by the pixies. Going through the loft and the basement, done by the pixies. These pixies are malevolent and always seem to remove the thing that the AN Other desperately wants at that minute. Although the article in question has not been seen or used for years and is now packed at the bottom of a box, at the bottom of a pile at the back of the garage. This produces cries of abject misery... OH but I need it now..... Did I unpack anything?... Did I hell. I resisted all temptation to go and buy another one, no matter how much it might help the economy. As wee granny used to say, you can always get used to doing without. And without sounding too much like my mother it never really does you any harm to ‘go without.’ (greek economics should take note!)

It fact I think my life would be happier and culturally enriched if we had to do without the x-factor and that thing on the other channel where they wear sparkly frocks, too much fake tan and twirl around a lot. He who would must be ignored goes off his nut, forced to watch the x-factor by his two charming but artistically challenged teenagers , he who must be he ignored just rants. The kids don’t actually watch the show, they just turn on the tv, sit back and wait for the rant to begin. It is funnier than Nick Clegg.... and probably last longer than the average chart life of the winning X factor contestant. He who must be ignored is that most cherished of things ( a man who does the ironing!) a musician who can play by ear. Having spent much of my youth around musicians and their ilk, you can trust them when they say ‘they are singing flat! very flat! Why is he saying that was good, that was flat!’ Over and Over....

But I think I would be blind not to notice that the same thing is happening in publishing. Looking at the books kicking around supermarkets for instance. I like Jeremy Clarkson, but I trust him about as far as I could comfortably spit out a warthog. I do admire his cheeky charm but do I want to read about his private life in a book? No. Nor Jordan, nor that other one that I can’t figure out what she actually does for a living...... Kerry Katona? Any of you that have read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will recall the bit where all the useless people were sent off into space to inhabit a new planet. Oh I’ve just remembered that turned out to be the Earth didn’t it. We have evolved from the terminally useless. Well I suppose that explains the Simon Cowell phenomenon that is going on.

Why did get rid of that wee fat ugly one that can hold a tune? he asks. I think he answered his own question there. In fact I think I might put the plasterer forward for the x-factor, he does look like Rab C Nesbitt on a bad day but the man can sing. And I apologise for missing the joke out last week, as I was reminded more than once... . The song Nessan Dorma is known in Scotland as ‘no messin norma’.

And with regard to philosophy, did you hear about the philosopher who went to the brothel to try to improve the minds of the prostitutes? Well he found out that you can put Descartes before the whores but you cannot make them think.

And while on that theme.... joke overheard in Morrison’s tea room... what has a hundred legs and no teeth? The methadone queue at the pharmacy. Funny but sadly true.