5063/17983
I just missed the 900th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings (though had possibly been conceived at that point, but still unable to celebrate) and I am not sure I am going to make it to the 1000th, so I should have made the most of the 950th celebration. All those immigrants coming over and taking our jobs and our land. Ad Greg Jenner pointed out on Twitter 70% of the land in the UK is owned by 1% of the population and most of those are descendants of the Norman Lords. So it was quite a significant battle. Not only ensuring riches to the men who thought but their descendants for at least a millennium. If only the Lords had to physically fight under a rain of arrows for their inheritances today.
I did some more work on the Emergency Questions book this afternoon. Why on earth did I say it would be 500 questions long (worse still I have promised over 150 people another one-off hand-written emergency question that only they will get)? I hoped to progress from 175 questions to about 200 today, but ended up at 189 in total. It’s surprisingly difficult to come up with ones that pass the requisite test (please do not send me any, 69ing dogs aside, your suggestions are always just wrong). I will get there eventually, but it may be a little while before those books are winging their way to you.
This was my favourite of the day and may be making an appearance on RHLSTP on Monday -
If you had to do a Human Centipede with two other people – if you had to – and you were in the middle, which two people and at which end would they each go?
Rich says, “I would like my mouth attached to Gemma Chan’s anus and my anus attached to Michael Gove’s mouth. That way no one has to put their lips on Michael Gove’s anus – something that has, as yet, never happened and never should. Also Gemma Chan’s poop would almost certainly be delicious, but it’s deliciousness would have been sullied by the time it passed through me.
And fatherhood is a time of unexpected pleasures. I came down to the basement to eat my lunch and discovered that Phoebe had been having a tea party with her toys. Although she had gone out, the toys remained, still enjoying their party (though a couple of them without drinks- SHUNNED). It’s just magic. Whilst I create my scatological nonsense, she makes something beautiful. She must never find out what I do for a living.
