(no subject)

I went to a wedding yesterday.
I had known for some time that this would be happening.
Yet I did not book today off.
What was I thinking?

Go together like a horse and carriage

So yeah, the wedding. Pretty kick-ass, really. After fannying about to see people hitched in Dorset and France, catching the W3 was pleasantly simple. The Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony appears to have been devised by The Child. The audience don't do much, unless they're being witnesses, we just stand there, bemused, as men dressed in curtains ululate at each other, before tying the bride and groom's heads together. And then loads of people go up and swap the rings, except Shanthi swapped them incorrectly so now she's a man, or something. Well mental.
The reception took place in Enfield, in a hotel on the Edge of London. We were literally off the map, and I kept wondering if we needed fortifications. Given the happy couple are the completely rockin' Kennel Club duo, one of the wedding photos features the assembled masses doing the \m/ gesture. Cashback.
I was at the same table as Andrew Mueller, who's much cheerier than I'd have expected from his writing. This man lunches with Luke Haines, is mates with Cathal Coughlan and sent George MacDonald Fraser a Kabul bootleg of the first Flashman book. He too is completely rockin'.
DJing (by Prom Night and HDIFTBL alumni) is somewhat hampered by the amp dying. The decksx end up plugged into the back of a mini hifi, which works reasonably well except that they have to ask the audience to adjust the volume dial for them.
Money is pinned to the happy couple like streamers.
Ian refuses to play Ban Marriage. Pussy.
Bohemian Rhapsody ensures Wayne's World-style behaviour.
All weddings should be like this.

I'm not a romo or a new romantic, I'm a cyborg rapist

I have just read 225 friendslist entries. Talkative bunch, aren't you?

The rest of the weekend; well, on Thursday I went to the pub with lots of you lot, and that nice
wardytron gave me an Echo and the Bunnymen box set. After about 30 tracks you realise that McCulloch's lyrics are generally gibberish, but when he sings them they become profound. Then he covers All You Need Is Love, and you realise that even he can't make it sound like anything but trite nonsense. As, it seems, does he. Because then he drops in his own 'Who wants love without the looks?" What a star.

On Friday, I ironed. Lots. Then I went to the pub with specimens of that strange species, the blogless (well, bar vivid_blue but she was only there for the middle stage). They're just like us, in so many ways, but without the strange compulsion to document it all for the public...
It's nice having a Thames to drink beside, but also cold. I like cold. Coats and jackets come out to play again.

Saturday, back to the company of LJ tags for The Fan Club. Why did we stop going, people? It's bloody ace! Bassistneeded's band Subculture aren't bad actually. But the highlight is undoubtedly Gary le Strange. The whole 'weren't the eighties daft?' angle is somewhat defused by the surroundings. He looks less outlandish than Simon Price. He's singing Is My Toaster Sentient, but the previous band were singing Our Love Is Like A Sine Wave. I love it when reality out-spoofs the spoofs, but I also love eighties pop and any good satirist has to almost become what he pastiches. When he banters in character, I'm not impressed. When the jokes are over a Vienna rip-off, he's hysterical.
Very puzzling.

S.H.O.P.P.I.N.G.

I am fond of Actimel yoghurt drinks. It's quite possibly psychosomatic, but they do seem to be good for my health; additionally, they are tasty.
The Tesco beneath my house is as often as not sold out of them. It lets me down, believing that my proximity to it will keep me dependent.
The shiny new Sainsbury's has them in serried ranks, in a plethora of flavours I did not even know existed. I have just consumed a lovely Multifruit-flavour specimen.

Given I have a crush on a supermarket, is it any wonder I liked Is My Toaster Sentient?