Week 176: handle like eggs
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Found my jumper. Some people say āitās always the last place you lookā is the sort of pointless truism only a boring moron would trot out, but itās true!
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You know the ānet promoter scoreā, where folks ask questions to which the answer is either āI need you to understand that people donāt have conversations where they randomly recommend [East Midlands Trains] to each otherā, or āvery likely [not really, but I donāt want the poor employees to get in trouble].ā
But I search Twitter and actually people are randomly recommending bustimes.org to people. I could say something mean-spirited about it but I wonāt ā people find something useful, and want to share the useful thing, which is lovely.
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As I was walking past Tesco Express, a lady laden with bags toppled over, oh no. I hesitated until someone else approached to help her up, and Iām afraid I just scurried away like I had somewhere important to be. (Thinking back to the fainting TalkTV political editor, of course Iādāve run over to help if I was a mum like Liz Truss.)
Just hours later, I was bicycling along when suddenly the right handlebar snapped clean off and I landed cross-legged on the ground, bruised and grazed, sand in my mouth and my jumper torn. Oh what instant karma. Motor cars motored past, as it probably looked like I was meditating on the grass verge, but one did stop and kindly check I was OK, which I was after a fashion, and I gingerly pedalled home sort of one-handedly.
It was the old old bicycle, by the way. Who knows how old the handlebars were, and maybe whoever fitted them didnāt use a torque wrench, putting untold strain on the metal by over-tightening.
Iām sure you donāt want to hear about my swollen purple bum ā I should have been quicker to sit on a bag of frozen brussels sprouts ā woe unto me. What must the neighbours think of the moaning each time I get up or sit down or lean over in bed to reach a cup of tea.
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š¦ In The Living Daylights, Timmy Dalton says āit must have scared The Living Daylights (1987) out of herā. Thereās a box of fragile cargo marked āhandle like eggsā, which apparently is a thing and is also written on something in Thunderball, which Iāll have to keep an eye on ITV4 for.
I had a tin of zesty pop to drink during Licence to Kill, so I waited for someone to open a can on-screen so I could open mine at the same time without the noise disturbing anyone. But there are no ring-pulls in the film. Bond orders a bottle of Budweiser with a lime, but he doesnāt get to drink it.
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Sure youāve already heard Nathan Fielderās (from off of Nathan For You) The Rehearsal is something. The second episode was underwhelming, but after the third I feel silly for having had any doubts. Thereās a New Zealandish torrent search engine that seems better than the famous Swedish one, I donāt know what everyone else uses these days.
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I call womenās football āfootballā and menās football āmenās footballā. š