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My nipple kept on getting spread around the internet (usually it's the other way round), which was a bizarre experience. I didn’t start this so that thousands of innocent strangers would have to look at my useless nature’s coat-hook and anyone who says I did do that and I get off on it, is lying. I never thought I would see my nipple in Cosmopolitan,
but there it was in all its glory (on the website anyway) Keep punishing the Sun’s twitter feed with your nipples guys. It’s the only language they understand. I am not wanking as I type this.
Still a little weak and tired today I managed to get on with some work. I got three weeks ahead on my Metro column, just in case our baby arrives imminently (though it might be fun to try and write a column as the whole thing is going on) and then this evening went to the Westfield to look at new computers. I have a feeling that if I don’t replace my quite ancient devices before the baby I will feel I can’t justify it afterwards, but I found the experience overwhelming today and ducked out of the shop. I need to have a strong stomach to part with the necessary cash. But I am keen to get a desktop computer that I can edit podcasts and video on. And my Macbook Air is also on its last legs, but I will try to soldier on with that one until they have brought out the new version.
Someone on Twitter sent me a picture of one of my tour posters in Portsmouth, or rather one that the Portsmouth theatre has for some reason decided to design themselves. It looks pretty good, except they have made the title of the show “Lord of the Dance Sofaâ€. The proper title confuses a good proportion of people, but this new improvement must be leaving everyone scratching their heads. What the fuck is this show going to be? It seems weird to spend time and money designing a poster (we send out posters for them anyway) and then just have a punt at remembering the name. It gave me a good laugh though and in Portsmouth I will do my best to honour the new name and dump all the dance settee material and try to come up with a reasonable explanation of what a “dance sofa†is. I guess there’s a danger that the show looks like it might be more dance based than it is (there is some dance in it) to anyone who doesn’t get the joke. Or maybe anyone who does. This is the curse of not being better known. But seriously “Lord of the Dance Sofa?†Don’t take the piss.
And in middle-class domestication news I have found a fabulous way to cook kale. I struggled through a few bags of this stuff back in July when my nutritionalist was trying to make me eat 1kg of veg a day. I have tried to keep my veg intake high, but mainly left kale off the table. But it’s supposedly pretty good for you. And this is a way to make it almost the nicest thing you have ever eaten by turning it into something akin to crispy seaweed. Warm the oven on 220 degrees, pull your kale off its stalk and then chop it up a bit. Put it in a baking tray and sprinkle with oil, salt, sugar and paprika and then put that in the oven for five minutes and the most disgusting food on the planet is suddenly almost the best. I don’t know what to do with my oat groats (which I stopped having for breakfast pretty quickly) but leaves have never been so delicious. I am really enjoying cooking though. I fear comedy might have to make way for house-husbandry. I both fear and welcome that. I’ve given you fuckers the best years of my life and you can’t even be arsed to get my show name right! Well let’s see if you like my recipes (that I have nicked from elsewhere) better.
