Wednesday, June 2, 2010


Up On Melancholy Hill
'Up on melancholy hill, where you can't get what you want... but you can get me.
Cause you are my medicine when you're close to me.' - Gorrilaz, Melancholy Hill
Sorry, just had to say that.



It Is Not Right

I have a question- Why do people feel inclined to chop their finger nails on the train? Why not do it at home? Or at the very least outside? It's tremendously noisy and who knows where each bit of their DNA is shooting off to. And it seems to take forever!!
I can't be the only one to notice. I can think of 3 times this has happened to me, twice this year. So it must be absolutely rife amongst commuters. It is not right.



Danny Wallace I'm not sure if I like you anymore...

Dear Danny,
I have known you (not personally) since 2005 and have enjoyed many of your witty and endearing books, documentaries and random scribblings. 'How to start your own country' on BBC2 - brilliant, although some bits were a little boring I must admit, all the legalities of starting a country were a bit dull. But a young man trying to take over a random island being chased out my the locals, classicly funny. Then I read 'Join Me', a great book which depicted you as a charming, caring and intelligent gentleman. When 'Yes Man' came out I spent my lunch hours in Borders reading it for free until they sold all their copies and I had to order it in. Money well spent, however this book was lent to someone who failed to return it, but I then borrowed a CD from them and called it even. You put out 'Friends Like These' and I found this one a little lacking. The characters seemed limp and the storyline dragged on... but I persisted! When you started writing a column in my favourite men's free weekly publication (Shortlist) I looked forward to my thursday commute knowing that you would entertain me with a little embarrassing story of you being awkward, yet pleasant and polite. You appeared at my local Borders to sign your books and I had fully intended to go but then it was raining immensely and I just couldn't find the energy to leave the house. I apologise. I think you did some horrible quiz show that I couldn't watch without cringing. But I still believed that you were pretty amazing. The moment you became a father.... that was it. You are now writing about nothing but fatherhood. I can get this sort of stuff from my brother anytime, you are in charge of funny, awkward, embarrassing stories... not just about being a dad. So you'll have to win me back somehow.
Yours Sincerely,
Michelle

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