Barrister Banka Johnson - Episode 1: Chapter 2: Oh, how I miss you Barrister Banka Johnson

from:      Lord Steven Rawbone confidentially.rawbone@gmail.com

to:          bjohnson00@hotmail.fr, johnsonbanka00@gmail.com
date:      18 December 2012 23:26
subject:  Re: Mr.P.Rawbone and family

Dear Barrister Banka Johnson,

I am concerned. I appreciate that you are in all likelihood fully engulfed in legal and possibly bovine wranglings with the Bank and at the same time I am quite sure you are involved in the preparations for the funeral or funerals of my close relative or relatives who has or have passed away.

Barrister Banka Johnson - Episode 1: Chapter 1: No News = Good News?

It would seem that my good friend and soon-to-be Grandfather-in-law to my Granddaughter, Nora, is busy preparing necessary legal information which in legal terms are supposed to be known by him and this will he relate to me to support the claim of the inheritance from the Bank. He clearly hasn't had a chance to write to me with an update on progress but I bare no grudge for he is clearly acting in both his and my interest to ensure that everything is executed expediously and does not have time for chit-chat nor Nora's wedding plans.

Barrister Banka Johnson and the Arctic Monkeys - Episode 1

from:      Lord Steven Rawbone confidentially.rawbone@gmail.com

to:         bjohnson00@hotmail.fr, johnsonbanka00@gmail.com
date:      6 December 2012 11:19
subject:  Mr.P.Rawbone and family

Barrister Banka Johnson, Sire.

How very pleased I am to have received your kind message via the medium of Facebook. Ordinarily, my mind is very suspicious of unsolicited communications and there are even times when I have barely given them a passing thought, before deleting without even taking the courtesy to reply. However, on this occasion I am confident that your communication is both heart-warming and heartfelt. And with nothing but the kindest of intentions. And, perhaps dare I say it, love.

Tetley Flea Bag

The woman next to me has no face. She has a book so presumably she has a face. She does not appear to be reading Braille.

The woman next to me has an elbow. Perhaps two. The woman next to me

Thepid Tai

Friday we ordered some food online. Today I received an email asking me to review the food/quality/service and took a great amount of time and thought to write my review. It seems that the people at Hungry House

Rumour. Fish. Monkey. Iron.

Furniture goes on the floor, not the door. It's the second rule of Furniture Club.

From the Iron Age and the Brass Age to the Satin Nickel and Brushed Steel Age, it has been easy to distinguish doors and furniture; you go through one to sit on the other. Maybe you're being a bit daring and sit on one whilst looking through another and eating from a third but there was never any real confusion. Doors is doors sure as apples is apples. Furniture is a necessary evil.

Waste coat

The woman opposite me wears monotonous clothing. The woman opposite me
is silently offensive. The spotted waistcoat type thing is an attempt
at quirkiness but fails to deliver. The knitted waistcoat type thing
reeks of Sue Ryder. The woman opposite me wears two waistcoat type
things. I do not purport nor pertain to have any knowledge of fashion
nor how to dress stylishly. The woman opposite me is equally
unqualified.

The woman opposite me is dressed head to toe in off black. It is a
colour that can only be attained through repetitive washing or
purchased from a vintage shop.

The woman opposite me is beige.

So Many Levels of Awesome - Level 2

So Many Levels of Awesome - Level 1

Nursing a hangover with an airbed in the shade on a warm breezy day.
With a pillow.

Waddock Hunt

You know me. Actually, maybe you don't as the readership seems to have
changed somewhat of late. Whereas before it was mainly friends and
family who I would drunkenly insist visited my blog to try solicit
feedback and page views, now it seems that I have a variety of
Lithuanians and Russians who are avid readers. The cynical side of me
suspects its some sort of trawling trojan based in Moscow and Ljubiana

Totally awesome

I've started using the word 'awesome' with no apparent irony,
affected American accent or embarrassment. This appears to be my
personal legacy from London 2012.

While there are still six days to go, my own Olympics is slowing down.

Home time

The man opposite me is silent. Pensive.

The man opposite me wears clothes chosen by his wife. He is not image-conscious, nor do I think he is persecuting me; not this man opposite me.

The man opposite me is no international hit man, no man of mystery. His socks are standard-issue black, far from mundane blue. There is no suspicious bulge at his ankle nor in his jeans; I have no reason to suspect he is concealing a massive Glock.

Cocoon III

Day three of the Olympics and the magic has truly begun: all of the
commuters have morphed into geriatrics and tourists. Geriatric
tourists, too. My carriage has attained Mothball Odour Factor 7 which,
even when seasonally adjusted, is unseasonally high. An expected MOF
at this time of summer would be 2-3.

The man opposite me is clearly a spy.

The Highs and Lows of Being a Brit

The best we can hope for is a huge piece of ribbon suspended across the stadium with the Queen and Philly taking one scissor, Boris Johnson and Seb Coe taking the other and a quick snip snip, "I declare the games open, now start running, I've got to get to the bingo at nine."

That was truly what I believed would be the best riposte to Beijing's incredible display in 2008. No point competing when you're not going to win. That's the Olympic way. In fact, I don't think I actually saw the CGI fireworks over Beijing, the pretty girl who didn't sing nor the amazing drumming. Not live, anyway. I did eventually see each of these events but only through HerTube as the missus would have encouraged me to have a butchers as she was reviewing them. Not 'reviewing'; 'reviewing'. Seeing them again, not analysing.

I have actively avoided opening and closing ceremonies in all sports since 1992.

Pah

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MG.C
Date: Fri, 18 May 2012 09:26:27 +0000
Subject: Pah
To: careers@thefa.com, david.bernstein@thefa.com

Dear Dave,

That's it. We're over. There is no 'us' anymore. There's a 'me'. And that's it. There is no 'you'. You mean nothing to me. We are no more.


Hodgson. HODGSON?! What's he got that I haven't? Well I'll tell you what I've got that YOU haven't, David so-called Bernstein.

George Formby

So there I am cleaning windows with a washing up sponge. Greg Davies looks less than impressed and asks me why I'm smearing 18 months' worth of DIY filth from one part of the window to another. And why am I adding remnants of last night's tea to the exceedingly more opaque glass?

He's right. This is futile. I need some malt vinegar to bring these beauties up to scratch and in the kitchen

RIP Claire Squires

http://www.justgiving.com/Claire-Squires2

This is the girl who collapsed and died just before the finish in the London Marathon. 

On Sunday, it is reported that she had received 400 pounds donated on-line. Looking now, the figure has just passed 407,000.

The Great Escape

The man opposite me is an international hit man.

There is no obvious sign to indicate that he has plied his trade across global boundaries. No tan. No evident passport. No sombrero or wicker donkey.

The man opposite me is a national hit man.

Re: Re: Re: Job Application

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MG.C
Date: Thurs, 1 Mar 2012 13:53:48 +0000
Subject: Re: Job Application
To: careers@thefa.com, david.bernstein@thefa.com

Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Call-Or-Write-My-Fans,

This'll be the last email I ever send your Highness.

It's been three weeks and still no word - I don't deserve it?

I know you got my last two emails; I wrote the addresses on them perfect.

So this is my email I'm sending you, I hope you read it.

And it's all gone quiet over there

No talks with Fabio Capello successor - Football Association

A statement form the advisors of Mr MG.C:

'We can confirm that no contact has been made with the Football Association and that Mr MG.C is therefore the most likely successor to Mr Capello.

No further comments will be made until further updates are available.'

Re: Re: Job Application

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MG.C
Date: Mon, 20 Feb 2012 09:13:48 +0000
Subject: Re: Notification
To: careers@thefa.com, david.bernstein@thefa.com

Hi again, Dave,

Just a quick one to kindly thank you for responding so quickly once
again. I greatly appreciate the note you have added re applying for
the England Manager role! ;-) That'll weedle out the time wasters,
eh?!

Re: Job Application

From: MG.C
Date: Mon, 20 Feb 2012 08:31:35 +0000
Subject: Re: Notification
To: careers@thefa.com, david.bernstein@thefa.com

Dear David,

First of all, I must say how impressed I am with your quick thinking;
the very same day that you had to deal with the departure of Mr
Capello and the inevitable press interest and intrusions, you had the
foresight to change your email name to 'The Human Resources Team',
thereby throwing all of our 'friends' involved in The Leveson Inquiry'
off the scent. I am very impressed by this attention to detail and
willlingness to keep a veil of secrecy over proceedings.

I'm so street, I'm Oxford

Video gaming has gone to new levels.

In the good old days, you could sit at home in your darkened room, close the curtains to eradicate any light falling across the screen and let FIFA 98 whisk you away to the World's great stadia. Whether it was your dream to play in Parc des Princes, Wembley Stadium, Adams Park or the Bernabéu, FIFA 98 would allow you to fulfil some of your cleaner fantasies in front of a packed crowd with a staccato Barry Davies commentating.

Job application

From: MG.C 
Date: 8 February 2012 21:06
Subject: Application for the position of Manager, Team England
To: careers@thefa.com, david.bernstein@thefa.com

Dear Mr Bernstein,

It is with a mixture of emotions that I have just learnt of the precipitous departure of Mr Fabio Capello from the employ of the Football Association and it is for this reason that I am contacting you directly. Speaking as an England fan, first and foremost and a highly successful manager a close second, I can confirm that I am announcing my intention to postulate for the post of England Team Manager.

The Sartorialist. Lunch for 25.

Warning: your next hour is lost if you open this blog.

Click here and thank me later.

On yer bike, Gregor

I have had enough of the Gregorian Calendar.

We've had it for 2011 and a bit years (must remember to check this
statement as I think we've only had it since 1200 or something and that we had a different one previously where the seventh month was September and the eighth October. Somewhere along the line, a couple of extra months were thrown in - some sort of 20% extra free deal - and we went from 36.5 day-months to a variety of 28, 29, 30 and 31 dayers. Close brackets. ).

Crash Test Dummies

Once, there was this kid who
Wouldn't go and change with the kids in the Change Rooms.
And when they finally made him
He wore his Speedos in the shower.
He couldn't quite explain that he'd always just worn them.

A.L.L.I.T.E.R.A.T.I.O.N.

Rarely has a subject divided opinion more during all of time.
Arguments have and will rage forever. The war between the faithful and the unfaithful will continue until judgment day, armageddon, the ends of time, kindergarten cop and twins. The fight never finishes; there
are merely pauses while both sides gather breath and regain strength before resuming the bloodshed.

Tim Minchin. A Man. A men. Amen.

Now that we are in the Year of our Lord 2012 and that January should be an altruistic time following the excesses and selfishness of all but one day of December, I thought that I would do my best to help this young chap by spreading His word.