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Happy Bee Network. Some of the coverage of Greater Manchester’s new franchised bus services has elided the fact that they’re still operated by the private sector at the end of the day; part of me would like a commitment to either 100% public ownership or total free-market anarchy, not this still uneasy mixture.
Shut the fuck up you weasel faced cunt - can you let Andy Burnham, who is an amazing mayor by the way, have his day in the sun? You sad fuck
I must declare a professional interest: it’s advantageous for me that the new Bee Network app isn’t yet as good at live bus tracking as some of the old operators’ apps were.
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To Pinewood Studios, to watch the studio recording of Taskmaster series 17 episode 3. I don’t even like Taskmaster as much as a lot of people do – I tend to zone out and go on my phone mid-way through any given episode – but very much enjoyed stepping through the screen and watching it in person.
Our first glimpse of the top-secret series 17 line-up was on the card the titular taskmaster has with their names on. (Like the one in the linked picture, it had one of the contestants’ surnames spelt incorrectly.) Some indiscreet blabbermouths have since leaked the list on the internet, for those who know where to look … I hope the full force of Channel 4 and Avalon’s lawyers will rain down on them.
Anyway. My tiny brain is struggling to cope with having seen a bit of the next series while the current one is airing.
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ID’d at the big Sainsbury’s in Slough, yes I looked too young to buy baba au rhum, and I’d not brought any ID. I’m supposed to be flattered – the effects of exfoliating and moisturising – but it meant going without pudding, and possibly the alcoholic chilled dessert spoiling at the checkouts before any staff returned it to the shelf. (I’m sure some shops’ point-of-sale systems don’t have it flagged as an age-restricted item.)
So Slough is dead to me, a bit. I’d gotten a better impression the last time I visited, when it was a sunny day and the bus station hadn’t burnt down yet.
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By the way, FirstGroup plc’s timetable data incorrectly lists a disused, unserved stop that looks like the best stop to alight at for (a mile or so walk to) Pinewood Studios. I’ve now filled in an online form about it, but I might as well have whispered into the wind or written my message in sand.
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Cistern update: what was I on about last week, talking a load of rubbish? The buttons/rods thing was a red herring. But I swear there’s a knack to flushing in such a way that the valve closes properly post-flush; maybe some people hold the button down too long? Alas, watching how guests flush and telling them they’re doing it wrong isn’t really tenable.
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🎦 Talk to Me. (About some Australian teenagers and their embalmed hand, a tale as old as time.) Freaked my nut out so much that I left behind a half-full bottle of sparkling mango Rubicon.
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A Haunting in Venice. My mind wandered to thinking about HTTP caching for a bit. Venice is a silly town – ooh, building on land isn’t good enough for you? Pathetic.
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“Or the local cow eating grass right over there?”