Oik

November 10, 2009

 

Nigel

Last week, Boris Johnson saved a woman who was being mugged by 12-year-old girls wearing the obligatory ‘hoodies’ and wielding an iron bar.

The girls just stood there until the woman told them “He’s the Mayor of London” at which point they ran away. Who knew the trappings of office still held such power?

Boris, or as the muggee referred to him “my knight on a shining bicycle”, chased after them, calling them “oiks”.

Oiks? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, it’s an informal noun meaning an uncouth or obnoxious person. Fair enough, except it’s a word that would feel more at home uttered by one Nigel Molesworth (pictured above) in the 1950s setting of St Custards than on the streets of Camden. I can’t believe the girls had ever heard the word uttered before.

So very Boris.

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Word-ahzh

November 8, 2009

boysfornoise

Finally got round to listening to episode 7 of Boys for Noise, the excellent podcast by Ingmar and Billy, two gay guys from Melbourne who “are into music, art, movies, popular culture and all that stuff. And they like to go on about it. And they like to listen to each other go on about it. Now you can too!”

Don’t be put off by the highbrow sounding list of topics, we’re talking Beyonce and Project Runway here. And with the mysterious Debbie replenishing their wine glasses as they rabbit on, it’s all most entertaining.

Anyhoo, in episode 7, both Gym Class and Wordage get a namecheck. And whereas I’ve always thought of the last syllable of Wordage as being like the last syllable of porridge, they give me an undeserved veneer of sophistication and glamour by making it like the last syllable of ‘Even Rocky had a montage’.

Before casually writing me off as being ‘too old for boyfriend material’.

Swings and roundabouts, as the saying has it.

No November

November 8, 2009

K&MU14

If you’re wondering why are so many no’s in the above flyer, cast your mind back to a certain nineties Eurotrash dance number…

It’s for monthly night Kiss & Make Up, which we attended on Friday night. A fair amount of lager and bourbon was consumed, we swapped Little Chef experiences with Stuart, one of the not-so-evil masterminds behind the night, Steven got “beard envy” after meeting some of the bear-ier gentlemen present, and as promised there were “spontaneous outbreaks of dancing”.

The next morning we were slightly worse for wear and headed down to our local greasy spoon. There we had a breakfast that in Steven’s words, left us “equally disgusted and delighted”.

The rest of Saturday consisted of Working Girl, Revenge of the Sith and X Factor. Each of which attained that same delicate balance between disgust and delight.