A New Zealand couple applied for a $4,000 loan from their bank.
The bank, by mistake paid $4,000,000 into their account.
They immediately emigrated (after first transferring the funds to another bank).
I like that.
Oh. What a great first semi final tonight.
“The whole world’s talking about it.” said the presenters who most wanted/needed “the whole world” to be talking about it.
Anyway, in a travesty of a public vote the woman who isn’t actually all that ugly and certainly isn’t all that good at singing (although she’s quite good) walked off with the public’s vote.
By FAR the best act, “Diversity”, were faced with a shoot out against the grannies’ favourite; the sweet (but rubbish) wee lassie, Natalie Okri.
Common sense ensured that the best act, by far, is in the final.
Julie Neidenko, the Latvian pole dancer, who claims to be a belly dancer, but doesn’t actually belly dance caught my (and Simon’s) eye.
When Darth Jackson took his mask off Ria immediately categorised him as a peado and that Latvian burd as a prossie. (I’d like to say that as author of this blog I do not necessarily subscribe to either of my 14 year old daughter’s views.)
What I do think though is that public nonsense could take a very average singer to surprising levels of success and I’m not in agreement with that. Even if she is Scottish.
Come on Diversity!
Plays a cracking new Melody Gardot toon as you browse. Check it out here.
The sun is shining and Jeana and I are off the Suntrap Open Day where she will be smiling gracefully behind the plant stall whilst I humph sacks of shit from one end of the site to the other, sweating like a bag of cheese.
Sam Bartram was Charlton’s goalkeeper from 1934 till 1956. In that long and distinguished career perhaps one tale stands out. I read it in the Guardin the other day and it amused me. He was keeping goal in a match aianst Chelsea in a proverbial Pea Souper of a fog. The game must have been going well he thought becuause was not even called into action for the first 15 minutes. Indeed, his first encounter with a fellow human being was when a figure emerged from the fog. But it wasn’t an opposing player, it was a copper.
“What are you doing here.” the copper exclaimed. “The game was abandoned before kick off and the feild’as completely empty.
Nobody, it seemed, had seen the need to tell the goalie..”
Footnote: A Foggy Bummer is the Scottish name for a Bumble Bee. (did you see what I did there?)
I’m afraid this post will only appeal to those of a certain age and from a certain geographic base.
When I was a kid bread came in hauf loafs and the king of the hauf loaf was the Milanda.
Indeed my late father drove a Milanda van for some time, delivering to bakeries.
The reason for my post is that I met a bloke in Glasgow today who told me a brilliant story about Milanda (The advertising catchphrase, in the 60’s, was “Demand a Milanda”)
His story is that he met a lady in Ireland recently called Milanda and he was surprised by this. Asking the derivation of her name she told him that her older sister had been tasked with naming the newborn and that she had taken a shine to the wee lassie in the bread ad (of the 60’s) “That wee Milanda lassie.”
Apparently she’d thought the girl, as opposed to the bread, was called Milanda.
Thank god she wasn’t watching the Ronseal ad.