An interesting place to park.

No, this isn't an me showing off my photoshop skills. This what happened when Arthur Manning sailed just a leetle to close to the rocks when over taking in a Royal Channel Islands Yacht Club race near Saint-Quay-Portrieux, north-west France.

Unfortunately, he tried to do it when the tide was sort of on its way out. You'll be relieved to hear the boat was refloated at high tide.

Unlike (as the Daily Mail points out) the owner's pride.

A niggling thought.

So MJ's memorial service has just wound up and no doubt we will see replays for much time to come.

But you know? I just can't seem to rule out him doing a Bobby Ewing and turning up in the shower.

It's a hell of a way to get a new house.

One of my 'Stralian cousins sent me this link, which is pure gold. I'll let him tell you what he thought.

'I greatly enjoy tales detailing the combination of the truly stupid amongst us and networking sites. Brightens up my whole day... '

And..

'I'll declare my bias by admitting I loath Facebook and related sites...'

Basically the story goes like this - the new head of MI6, the British, um, secret intelligence service sort of had all his personal details (minor details like, oh, where he lived and worked) plastered all over Facebook.

As a result poor old Sir John Sawers and his family are most probably going to have to be rehoused (and let me tell you, MI6 are hopping mad) .

And who was responsible for this breach of national security?

None other than this woman.

Off with her head! I hear you say- which is possibly something MI6 would have entertained if it weren't for the minor detail that she is Lady Sawers.

Needless to say Lady Sawers no longer has a Facebook page.

I applaud her, together she and Facebook have managed to turn the British Secret Intelligence Service into an oxymoron.

Genius.

More on Michael

This, from my brother-in-law. (Who saw it at Tumeke).



I laughed, but then I have very poor taste.

If you take one of the blue pills and mix it with three of the red ones......

My mate, who provides me with lots of material for this blog (see the pumpkin themed wedding), has just given me another pealer that I have to share.

While you're sitting at your computer toiling with either:copy, numbers, a snarky boss/employee or ignoring your wee darlings, spare a thought for my friend. This is how she spent time earning a crust earlier in the week.

"My 'career' has reached a new low.Just spent the morning pulling 'the bird' at the Prime Minister. Outside a school for deaf children. Wouldn't have minded if it was funny. It wasn't. My parents will be so proud..."

(She's stopped updating her Facebook page with what she's been doing as people were beginning to think that her world and the real world were two entirely different things.)

Suddenly Michael Jackson doesn't seem so weird, after all.

I was reading an article about the family who took out the thirty-six million Big Wedneday win in last Saturday's paper. The article was asking whether having a cookie jar stuffed with unlimited supply of cash would buy happiness, or not.

It went on to talk about Paradise Syndrome - a new(unofficial) disorder that befalls those poor feckers who have everything - except happiness (Desperate Housewives - oh but, that's right, they're not real). The article goes on to say that Paradise Syndrome may explain the obsession for cosmetic surgery. And this is the part that really got me.

I quote:

'In the United States some commentators are labelling the booming cosmetic surgery a national epidemic. Driven by economic greed and insecure clients it has become the wild frontier of human excess.

In her tell-all tome Beauty Junkies:Inside Our $15 Billion Obsession With Cosmetic Surgery, Alex Kuczynski, herself a 10-year nip-and-tuck junkie, lifts the skin-fold on the mad quest for perfect.

Her account of the compulsive activities of one Hollywood housewife fleshes out the scale of the obsession. The woman's routine entailed two trips to the hairdresser each week, a once-a-week facial and full-body waxing, regular tanning sessions, manicures plus teeth cleaning (what? you can't do it yourself ?)and whitening. Body and face were caked in expensive creams made from caviar, 24-carat gold, human growth hormone or wild yam extract.

Tennis, pilates and a personal trainer kept her body toned. She average three sessions a year under the plastic surgeon's knife as well as injections with Gore-Tex (I thought you wore that to keep the rain out?) Botox and Artecoll. She has had liposuction and a series of breast augmentations.

She is, says Kuczynski, considered pretty normal amongst her peers.'

Even with an unlimited supply of cash I could only be arsed to doing ten percent of that woman's routine. And all laziness aside, I wouldn't want to do most of that stuff to my body and it sure-as-shit wouldn't make me happy.

Call me a hillbilly, but in my world it's just more evidence to prove the theory that the higher we evolve, the more stupid we seem to become.

Jordan, eat your heart out.

A friend of mine who is getting married has been looking for inspiration for her wedding.

At last she has found it. The following photos arrived in my inbox this morning.

Behold, the pumpkin soup themed wedding!

(And no, the bride isn't a dwarf, she's just drowning in a pool of tulle).

She's quite fond of the mini-me flower girl.

I have included this photo just so you can checkout the bridesmaid's hem line.

And, don't know about you, but this last photo is just kind of creepy...

Creepy or not, the whole spectacle is truly, truly glorious.