These are the confessions - such as they are of a non-drinking, monogamous, heterosexual, omnivore.
The Ginger Mumbly is a humorous and humourous, satirical, column. People who like this will probably like reading books.
They'll be interested in second hand books.
I also write about cafes - both in Brighton, where I now live and in Cambridge, where I used to live.
I spend a lot of my time in Cafes and have very strong opinions about what makes a good one.
And sometimes I write about travel, I like Paris, Berlin, Athens.
It's a secular, militantly agnostic site, so there probably isn't much point sending ads for religious organisations.
They will probably like reading authors like Hunter S. Thompson, P J O' Rourke, Saki, Mark Twain, James Thurber, Charlie Booker, Damon Runyan.
They might like TV shows like "The Thick of It", "The Mighty Boosh", "The Wire", "Arrested Development".
The might like films like "A life Aquatic", or "The Big Lebowski"
Will Ye No' Come Back Again?
Where had he come from? Lets just
say he stood out. Celtic top. Celtic scarf, Celtic shorts. A mysterious
little knitted woolly hat that said - yes, you guessed it. He was a
different colour from everybody else - a livid purple colour that only a
dedication to the consumption of cheap lager and the avoidance of all
sun-care products can achieve. He was taller - and about twice the weight
of anybody else in the carriage. He wouldn't have looked out of place in
any bar on any wet Saturday afternoon in Helensborough, but this was a
bright sunny day in July (don't they stop the football season for ten
minutes in the Summer?), and this was the 7:15am from Cambridge to Kings
Cross. And where the hell had he got his lager from? Didn't they stop
doing the cans with the ladies posing in negligees on the sides sometime
in the late eighties? How does that fit it with their nouveau-lad
marketing? Well there she was - Deirdre, smiling out from both sides of
the can in a frilly little nylon number, and there he was taking a long
draught before holding the can high and giving Deirdre an admiring leer.
And then leering at a charming young red-headed futures broker from
Waterbeach who was suddenly wishing she'd worn a longer skirt.
The Japanese guy was heavily involved in his
copy of Yomiuri Shimbun. His little exhibitor's name badge which he'd left
pinned on his lapel said he was called Tatsuo Mishima and the little Union
Jack on it perhaps suggested that he spoke English, but there wasn't
really a language course that could have prepared him for this.
"Dae
yae li' fitba'?" Mr Mishima dropped his paper and peered through his
frameless Jean Paul Gautier specs. This hadn't been on his "Business
English in 28 Days" cassette.
"Velly Solly," look, he really did say
that. I could fall in line and pretend he said "Very Sorry" but he didn't.
He really did say "Velly Solly"
A bit louder
and with more lager-scented spittle - "Dae yae li' fitba'?" Terror was
beginning to overtake incomprehension on the Japanese guy's face, he had
no idea what this
green and white and purple man was saying - or indeed in what language,
but he was beginning to sense that it was probably important that he gave
a correct answer. Maybe he was also sensing that the Telegraphs, the John
Grishams and the Joanna Trollopes were being discretely lowered and he was
becoming the centre of attention.
Once more
with passionate intensity, "DAE YAE LI' FITBA'?" It looked as though the
Japanese man was going to start crying. The eyes over the Grishams, the
Telegraphs and the Trollopes saw everything and did nothing. Finally the
spectre from the Celtic twilight seemed to realise that he was talking to
a foreigner and therefore should speak more slowly and loudly.
"DO YOU
LIKE FOOTBALL?" and it worked. He got it, by Jove he got it. The Japanese
guy realised what was being asked of him and agreed as readily as anybody
has ever agreed to anything that he liked football. "Ah yes! Football!
Velly good." The pairs of eyes returned their to Florida law cases
involving unfeasibly beautiful defendants, their women in floral prints
searing joints on the tops of Agas, their detailed reportings of gross
indecencies in Dorking. But it wasn't over yet.
"Dae yae li' Rangers?"
With a perceptible gasp the carriage re-clenched."Velly solly?"
"Dae yae li' Rangers?"
"Velly solly?"
Tatsuo Mishima had wrung his Yomiuri Shimbun
into a tattered mess. He looked as if he was about to wet himself.
"DO
YOU LIKE RANGERS?"
You could see the look of
uncertainty on the Mr Mishima's face. Was this really the way out? Was it
really going to be this easy? Then he went for it in a big way.
"Ah
yes? Rangers! Velly good."
How could he have
got any more purple?
"Why d'you like Rangers? They're cra' !" and then
in outrage to the whole carriage "this can' likes Rangers! Why d'you like
Rangers? They're fu' in' cra'!" He was getting so excited that he was
spilling his lager. "See Rangers fans? Know what ah dae tae Rangers
fans..." We were all practicing our excuses, explaining to ourselves why
we were quite right not to lift a finger while we watched a microchip
wholesaler from Kyoto get the shit kicked out of him for admitting to
supporting a football team he'd never heard of, why it was much better to
concentrate on descriptions of everglade crime scenes, passionate glances
at the vicar and letters to the editor deploring the uses of the words
"chilled", "stressed" and "isn't it". But miraculously there was no need. The train
stopped at Ashwell and Morden and the green and purple and white knight
alighted, perhaps to test the sectarian allegiances of Northern
Hertfordshire.
26th May 2002
These are the confessions - such as they are of a non-drinking, monogamous, heterosexual, omnivore.
The Ginger Mumbly is a humorous and humourous, satirical, column. People who like this will probably like reading books.
They'll be interested in second hand books.
I also write about cafes - both in Brighton, where I now live and in Cambridge, where I used to live.
I spend a lot of my time in Cafes and have very strong opinions about what makes a good one.
And sometimes I write about travel, I like Paris, Berlin, Athens.
It's a secular, militantly agnostic site, so there probably isn't much point sending ads for religious organisations.
They will probably like reading authors like Hunter S. Thompson, P J O' Rourke, Saki, Mark Twain, James Thurber, Charlie Booker, Damon Runyan.
They might like TV shows like "The Thick of It", "The Mighty Boosh", "The Wire", "Arrested Development".
The might like films like "A life Aquatic", or "The Big Lebowski"