Behind you... the villain of the highway

8:28am Tuesday 13th May 2008

Some people shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel of a car. No, scratch that; most people shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel of a car. Okay, almost all people shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel of a car, except possibly me. Think of the benefits: quieter roads, me getting to where I need to go much quicker, lower CO2 emissions. It makes sense.

This time I’ve completely lost the plot

4:23am Tuesday 6th May 2008

When I was very young I used to love going to my nan and grandad's house for several reasons, including the fact that they always had Garibaldi biscuits in a tin; bought sterilised milk in the tall glass bottles, which I thought was unbearably exotic; lived right next door to a locomotive sheds, which would send soothing sounds of chugging and distant shouts floating on the air in the dead of night; and had a red lightbulb in the spare room.

Being so rich just shouldn’t be Aloud!

3:57pm Tuesday 29th April 2008

If you were rich - I mean filthy, stinking rich - would there be any limits to what you'd do? Would you ever find yourself getting out your triple platinum American Express card and buying that 44th Alfa Romeo Spider for your huge underground car park because it came in a shade of red that you didn't already have, and think hang on, isn't this a bit self-indulgent?'. Or would you just hang the consequences and buy ten of 'em, just because you could?

It’s the end of the world and they know it

8:39am Tuesday 22nd April 2008

Oh dear, it's time to head for the hills again. Well, if not right now, at the very least it's time to start stocking up on tinned food, bottled water and learning how to trap deer and make moccasins out of rat pelts.

Why figs ain’t what they used to be

8:55am Tuesday 15th April 2008

Bear with me, because this is going to be a rambler. Still there? Good. You might want to put your feet up with a cuppa and a biscuit while you read this.

Playground is a Laboured displeasure

2:18am Tuesday 8th April 2008

Things every playground should have: A wooden roundabout, preferably with a seemingly bottomless pit of mud underfoot; a rocket; swings; a slide; some empty cans of Merrydown cider; ancient and/or impenetrable graffiti etched into the metal frame of one of the above facilities, something along the lines of ECCY EATS PLATES or YANKS OUT OF VIETNAM.

Why I'm not the only one acting the fool

9:28am Tuesday 1st April 2008

You're either an April Fool person, or you're not. Me, I like practical jokes. Whoopee cushions. Contorting your face in agony and urging someone to quickly pull your index finger, then breaking wind (thanks for that one, Dad! A corker!), that sort of thing.

Grumpy old man? I don’t believe it...

11:54pm Tuesday 25th March 2008

I am officially a Grumpy Old Man. I know this because Mrs B told me so just yesterday. Not to do with my age, per se, although somehow I seem to be less than two years to turning the dreaded age where life allegedly begins but which we all know is actually middle age. And my right knee's started to give me terrible gip in the mornings.

Why can’t we celebrate like the Irish?

3:23am Tuesday 18th March 2008

If you're Irish, or like a drink, or both, then you probably enjoyed a drop of the hard stuff last night, it being St Patrick's Day.

Putting the brakes on growing up

8:19am Tuesday 4th March 2008

At what age does childhood end? According to Jacqueline Wilson, the "children's laureate" and author of those Tracy Beaker books, it's pretty much all over by the time they're 11, when they start boozing, taking notice of fashion, texting rather than speaking and, presumably, becoming initiated into the shadowy world of what exactly goes on in other people's underwear.

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