Top 5... Rules For Life

When it comes to life, I have some firm rules. I think if everyone followed them then I wouldn't be able to feel so superior which would be a pity because I quite like that about myself (second on the list of Best Things About Me, just after "How I Made Gumbo Twice This Year Already And It Was Awesome Both Times" and just before "My Immense And Selfless Modesty"). However, I will share my top five rules for the edification of those discerning enough to read this blog:

1. Never, ever drink instant coffee because it tastes like glue mixed with dirt and a bit of gravox.

2. If you don't understand the title of the job in the ad then you shouldn't apply for it.

3. Don't trust a man if you can't see his eyebrows.

4. Refuse all offers of friendship from the following: people who don't have earlobes, people who ignore punctuation, people with weird facial hair, people who have to buy two pairs of different sized shoes because they have one foot much larger than the other, people who bustle about, people under the age of 65 who use the phrase "of an evening", people who constantly talk about other people's "bits", people who wear brown shoes with black pants, people who wear socks and sandals, people who don't believe in evolution, people who are allergic to 6 or more things, close talkers, vegans, climate change sceptics, homophobes, racists, Basques, Spaniards, Inuits, Maltese and people from the Natal region of South Africa.

5. Never use your bum as a vase.

The Only Chef In The Village

I now work in a very different village from the one where I worked with The Only Gay in The Village but we have a resident Only. He is a chef or - in his words - "a CHEFFFF!!"

He is a regular (or should that be irregular ?) customer. He only ever buys cooking books, and never loses an opportunity to drop into the conversation something about his profession and how subsequently superior that makes him. A typical response to a relatively inane comment from me about cooking something from the book he has just bought goes a bit like this: "I'm a CHEFFF. It's what I DO. See? I COOK for a LIVING."

I happen to know that he is only a CHEFFF in the local PUB which is not really all that GLAM. I know he thinks I am SCHTUPID because I am not a CHEFF. Poor little dear.

Why Are People So Slow To Recognise My Genius?

My idea for a series of children's books based on Shakespearean characters has been rejected by all the publishers I sent it to. I was going to start off with one about Lady Macbeth and I wanted to call it Out Damn Spot.

It's Official:

The world now has one too many memoirs of the Middle East Experience written by a Western journalist or aid worker... which is a pity because whether or not they are worthy, well written, important documents or a combination of all 3, nobody actually wants to read them. Trust me, in 3-6 months from now I will be one of the poor suckers pulling the stickers off and sending them back to the publishers to be pulped.

Teetering Precariously On The Brink Of Too Many: Muslim women speaking out.

So Far Beyond Ridiculous And Through The Other Side That It Has Created It's Own Genre And Booksellers No Longer Even Bother To Cringe When A New One Arrives: Women who move to Italy or France.