The Final Countdown

Richard Whiteley
was once twice-nightly
but now no more
will he be seen
on the TV screen
for pensioners to adore

His tales sometimes bore us
but close your thesaurus
and dictionary today
for the first man on Four
death has called at his door
and taken his breath away

What now for Carol and Ms Dent?
Will they cope without the genial gent?
Is this it? Is Countdown done?
If that's the case then I don't mind admitting
that it seems right, and only fitting
to mark the end with a cheesy pun

Scotland's Latest Sporting Hero

After getting drawn into his final Stella Artois game a few weeks back, when exhaustion, cramp and an ankle injury thwarted him on the point of victory, I was looking forward to seeing Andy Murray's games at Wimbledon. And he's outdone my, and just about everyone else's, expectations.
Apparently some English player called Henman was beaten on the same day, but who cares about him now - goodbye Timmy-boy and the Canadian, we've got a new tennis star!

Ooh matron!

It would appear that Finbar Saunders has a new job writing for DS:BB. One of today's exciting stories from the Big Brother house goes like so:


Craig got all wet in the garden today while indulging in a spot of water sports with Anthony.

The camp crimper's secret crush unleashed his hose and squirted furiously on no less than two occasions this afternoon.

Each fight lasted around twenty minutes, with Craig attempting a pathetic defence using a cushion.

At one point Craig decided to change tactics and began tugging heartily on Anthony's hose, but to no avail.

Eventually Anthony showed mercy and a truce was called - but how long before they're at it again?


Oh dear oh dear oh dear...

Betsie Proudly Presents: Female Filmic Totty Through The Years

Louise Brooks - Clara Bow - Greta Garbo
Constance Bennett - Vivien Leigh - Carole Lombard
Hedy Lamarr - Gene Tierney - Ava Gardner
Elizabeth Taylor - Audrey Hepburn - Natalie Wood
Anna Karina - Isabelle Adjani - Catherine Deneuve
Natassja Kinski - Gong Li - Cate Blanchett
Halle Berry - Natalie Portman - Monica Bellucci

Mystic Betsie Predicts...

In time-honoured humiliating myself in public tradition, I shall now use my amazing powers to predict this weeks nominations in the Big Brother house (and, of course, I reserve the right to be completely and utterly wrong)

Anthony - Derek and Science
Craig - Derek and Science
Derek - Maxwell and Saskia
Kemal - Maxwell and Roberto
Makosi - Maxwell and Anthony
Maxwell - Derek and Roberto
Roberto - Vanessa and Maxwell
Saskia - Derek and Roberto
Science - Roberto and Maxwell
Vanessa - Derek and Anthony

Which would make it a three-way battle, with Derek and Maxwell both with 5 votes, and Roberto with 4. And if this is the scenario, then I reckon the off the 'ook geezah may just find his time in the house coming to an end...
But then, last year I predicted that Jason would be up for eviction every week and it never did happen, so what do I know.

Oh, and, by the way, last year I had a Big Brother site here, where I "amusingly" imagined what the housemates might be dreaming during their time in the house. As I've changed ISP since then and can't access the site to change it (and can't really be arsed moving it elsewhere), I'll stick this year's dreams on here, if that's okay with you - like you have a choice. All I have to do is think of some now...

Betsie Proudly Presents: Male Movie Totty Through The Years

Rudolph Valentino - Ramon Navarro - Richard Arlen
John Barrymore - Robert Taylor - Tyrone Power
Cary Grant - Robert Mitchum - James Mason
Montgomery Clift - Maurice Ronet - Marlon Brando
Alain Delon - Robert De Niro - Terence Stamp
Gabriel Byrne - Martin Sheen - Robert Downey Jr
Benicio Del Toro - Vincent Cassel - Gael Garcia Bernal

"Young people these days, they've got no respect"

Sometimes in life, we make mistakes.

I made one on Wednesday.

Having already walked more than strictly necessary in a day, my poor tootsies could take no more, so, upon deciding to return home, I decided to take the bus. Unfortunately, it was the 3.20pm bus. The one that makes a detour to one of the local secondary schools to pick up some of those young whipper-snappers before depositing them back in their houses.

Now, all through my youth, my school year were informed that we were the worst behaved ever, but we had nothing on this lot. Seemingly they're all going deaf, as every single conversation was conducted at a ludicrous volume, even when the participants were seated next to each other. And of course if you want to talk to someone at the other end of the bus, why get up and move closer to them when you can just yell across everyone else's heads?

It would seem that most of them were struggling with English, judging by the somewhat limited vocabularies on display - and i never knew Anglo-Saxon was still being taught in this day and age. As with the conversations, so with the detritus - apparently bins are over-rated, rubbish is for throwing at other people. In addition to the scrunched up bits of paper and left-over lunches, the odd fist was flying too, with assorted grudges from the day taking a more physical turn.

I'm not entirely sure what purpose the endless banging on the windows served - maybe it's some tribal ritual denied to we older folks. Presumably along the same lines as the "endlessly singing one line from a song till any sane person would feel the need to smash your brains in" - Gwen Stefani was getting the treatment, lucky girl.

Still, it's good to know that a few years down the line, I'll be looking back and remembering how well-behaved they were compared to the new bunch who've come along to take their place...

Can you see that nasty mark there? Yep, me too. Bugger... 

Sometimes the drugs work too well

It was Wednesday night. Having done a lot of walking that day, and needing a good night's sleep, I took one of my lovely shiny sleeping pills.

Well, who needs a Thursday anyway? Oops...

An entire day's worth of sleep plus Radio 4 on in the background leads to some "interesting" dreams, that's for sure. I had assorted amusing storylines going on, none of which seemed to link together that well - I'm assuming the news intervened to change the details around.

I can't remember all of it, but one had me behind a door with a gun, shooting a procession of people trying to capture me for some reason or other. That then opened up into a proper Western, with assorted troops gathering at the house on the hill and having to be held off by my inventiveness, eventually escaping through a chimney (can't say I'd noticed it behind the door, but that's just picky) and escaping on horseback while the foolish enemy kept trying to get in the house.

Then I found myself on a raft, following a coastline until it reached a busy beach where I asked an official-looking chap in a boat if I had reached Italy yet. And I had! Yay! So I made my way on shore, and to a dingy-looking cafe to look for food and a job. The cafe owner had the radio on, and when a political speech played, the lights flickered and the sound came through him rather than the radio. As luck would have it, he was the leader of a local political party, and needed help in the upcoming election (which by now was in Iran, not Italy. Think I know what news story came on at that point then...).
This seemed mainly to involve driving through a busy market on the top of a particularly rickety car, and hacking at some wicker and seagrass hanging things on a market stall using a sword. Well, obviously... The car journey ended in a vast square covered in sawdust with a European colonial-looking palace at one end of it, and an oppressive army marching through. Oh and I almost forgot, in the market there was a stream of immigrants who had escaped from Europe, and who each received a bundle of sticks wrapped in twine. A tad fasciste, that bit...


Presumably there was a story about Burma on the news at that point, as we now moved to me discovering that Aung San Suu Kyi was being held under house arrest in rural Perthshire. Well, where else? And naturally, my dad was one of her captors. Naughty man. Amongst her few possessions was a large, heavy coin, which takes us to the next segment...

...where the coin is taken to blacksmith or someone similar (on a remote Scottish mountainside, of course), who transforms the large coin into many smaller ones, thus providing currency for the new state which I'm now setting up. I have a tent (which appears to be made of a saltire flag), a sword (ooh, again, how exciting!), some Scottish flags made of crystals which I hope to make a living by selling, and a small wooden bowl with provisions. While still in this guise, I find myself part of a Scottish delegation at what appears to be some kind of European conference. I find myself muttering under my breath every time the main English delegate (one T. Blair) claims to be speaking for the whole of Britain. One of the French speakers gets a bit annoyed, and we get thrown out.

And that's all I remember, boo hoo. I think I woke up not long after that, at the perfectly reasonable hour of 4am. Maybe I should just go back to sleep and see if I can get something more exciting to happen - it's still not a patch on a dream a friend had once involving Prince Charles, Sylvester Stallone, and diamonds hid in unexpected places...

The Great British Public Are Idiots

Yes, I'm talking about Big Brother. Once again, when presented with an opportunity to get rid of one of the house dullards, instead the bitchiest one of them all got the boot. I'm no great fan of Lesley, but at least she made an impact. This isn't a popularity contest (sorry Davina), it's supposed to be entertainment. I want housemates who stir things up, who cause arguments, who give the viewing public something worth watching. If it wasn't for the "complete waste of time and money" factor, Vanessa would have got my vote. She's even duller than Sam, who at least had the Lesley winding-up factor in her favour... And now Anthony and Saskia are congratulating themselves on their tactics while a faux-naive Maxwell pretends not to know what they're talking about - I look forward to seeing them hoist by their own petards...

Oh internet I love you so...

I am on my third day without an internet connection. This is no small matter, for the net is my one and only addiction. It's hell I tells ya, I find my hand reaching out for the mouse and fingers lingering over keys longingly, dreaming of all those really important things I normally waste my time on. So far I've failed to become a computer-free zone, force of habit makes me switch the infernal thing on. But at least I've finally cleared that backlog of genealogy mail, so it's not all bad. Maybe tomorrow the on button will lose it's allure... Still, only 5 more days to go, it won't kill me. Will it?!? (oh and this is posted via the wonder that is the mobile phone, yay for technology!)

Couscous In My Cleavage

Honestly, I'm such a messy pup sometimes.

So anyway, there was an interesting show on Channel 4 tonight - Spirituality Shopper. I'm not a big fan of the mix n match approach to religion (if you're going to do something, damn well give it your all - not much point otherwise), but I must say I liked the look of Sufi dancing - who wouldn't want to be a whirling dervish?

And hurrah, if you want to get fit, it seems that six minutes a week is all you need. I've often thought that, as I collapsed in a heap of exhaustion after jogging to the end of the road...

Lo and behold, it's a miracle - a New Labour idea I actually agree with - Alistair Darling's proposal for a new road-charging scheme.

A brief Big Brother mention (more to follow later) - why is Sam?