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Haven’t you got better things to do?

My dating profile

It is only for a laugh really, as I am happy enough with Susan and a lot of crisps. But this is what it says on a dating site:

About me: Hi, I am like Henry the cheerful vacuum cleaner, except that I am no use for getting stubborn dust out of carpets. I do have a smiling face though and a long flexible plastic nose. The result of a childhood accident. Not really of course, the power of suggestion. I am quite a successful IT consultant with the usual big car, solid gold house ekcetera, but there is one thing computers can never provide. Love! Unless it is one of those sex robots that you hear about, in which case they can. But those robots are expensive, and there are question marks over electrical safety. So I am looking for a real human girl, at least until sex robots become more affordable.

About my match: After some bad experiences, I have decided I am looking for someone with mostly her own hair and teeth, and a human face. Some monkey faces considered, if it is a good looking monkey.

Do you like wandering aimlessly around London looking at blackbirds and drinking pop, or sitting on the sofa laughing at comical television programmes. If so you could be one of my chosen five girlfriends. I am not a Mormon. Just greedy.

Crikey

I was just watching another perfeckly crafted episode of Grange Hill there, while enjoying a refreshing fajita, and who should pop up as Pogo Patterson’s reluctant love intrest, but Sharon out of EastEnders! Also known as TV’s glamorous Letitia Dean.

Grange Hill is one of those programmes like Casualty which everybody who went to stage school in Britain has to be in at some point. Or it was as apparently it is cancelled now, that is OK as I do not know anything that happened after about 1990 anyway. That is as true of real life as it is of Grange Hill.

Of course everyone else out of Grange Hill later went on to EastEnders as well eg my lookalike Todd Carty, Susan Tully, and some other people.

It is mad when you use the power of the modern Internet to investergate what has happened to people out of Grange Hill. Ziggy Greaves is a playwright, Zammo Maguire owns one of those little shops that mends shoes and cuts keys, and is fat, and gruff PE teacher Mr Baxter is a successful novelist.

Fay Lucas’s son was the scary child with a gas mask out of Dr Who, Claire Scott posed nude for a magazine, released a bad cover of ‘The Locomotion’, and now works in a shoe shop. Pogo Patterson is a pub landlord. Gonch Gardner was the president of my student union when I was at UEA, where he continued to raise money by ridickulous business schemes eg selling toast in the playground. That does not work at university, as students cannot afford luxury food like toast.

Mr Bronson of course was in The Empire Strikes Back, where he frightened Imperial storm troopers by shouting ‘YOU BOY!’ at them. And his arch-nemesis Danny Kendall is now head of communications for AOL, if that still exists.

So if anyone laughs at you for watching bad 1980s TV eg classic era Grange Hill, Blake’s 7 ekcetera, do not listen to them as it is good.

Single and lonely

And likely to stay that way. The people who write in to the commuter newspapers about people they have seen on the Tube I mean. It is always

To the beautiful young woman in a red dress, I was the overweight sweaty businessman with a bad combover staring intrusively at your tits between High Street Kensington and Wimbledon. How about meeting up some time?”

or

The fit boy called Dave or Damien, or something beginning with D, or N, I was the pissed-up slapper that snogged you on New Years Eve on the platform at Charing Cross. You gave me your number, but you must have made a mistake writing it down, because it turned out to be a pest control company in Hackney. Please get in touch!”

I often wonder if anyone ever actually replies to those ads. This one is stranger than ficktion though that I saw in the paper the other day:

You: the guy throwing up on the Northern Line at East Finchley on 9 Feb. Me: the ginger girl whose jeans got in the way. Wish I could’ve told you how the remnants of WKD Blue brought out the blue in your eyes. Drink?”

What is the thought process here? She’s wondering why she never meets any nice guys, and then a lightbulb goes on. “What about that drunken tramp who spewed over my clothes? Why didn’t I get his number!”

The secret pictury

It is photos of mine which have never been viewed on Flickr. So yours will be the first human eyes ever to see these stunning images, except mine obviously. And I am only taxonomically human. As usual click on the pictures to see bigger versions, and automatically donate money to the Keithlard Pie Fund.