Bellringing, tapeworms, Princess Eugenie and BROOKLYN BECKHAM’S DUMB TATTOO: Things of the Week
This week I mostly...
...sent annoying emails to my cleaner.
It’s been over a month since she last hoovered onion out of our sofa throws, and the flat - while still just about standing - looks exactly as you’d expect following Christmas, a botched tree removal, several experiments with fresh turmeric and January, Generally.
Jeremy Vine’s Lunchtime Circus of Angry Pensioners radio 2 phone-in of the Week
"Have you ever been injured while bell-ringing?"
Astonishingly, for several people in the UK, the answer appears to be yes. Not least the unfortunate teenager hospitalised last Saturday by a particularly vicious belfry in Abingdon.
Worthy of a patient half hour segment on the importance of health and safety, you would assume? Idiot reader! As ever, Jeremy's listeners had other matters on their collective mind.
Doomed attempt at thunder-stealing of the week
PRINCESS EUGENIE is at home, trying on a series of DISGUSTING HATS. A DISHY PEASANT, her former bartender-turned-boyfriend, is browsing Twitter.
DISHY PEASANT: Oh look. Harry and Meghan are engaged. How lovely.
PRINCESS EUGENIE: (removing DISGUSTING HAT #3, trying on A FOURTH) How tall is Princess Charlotte now? I just think I could do with more feathers. Wait, what?
DISHY PEASANT: Harry. Your cousin. He’s getting married! At Windsor Castle! To Megan Markle!
DISGUSTING HAT #4: (hissing) This cannot stand.
PRINCESS EUGENIE: Darling, let’s get married! At Windsor Castle! Now!
DISGUSTING HAT #4: (hissing) With a massive hat.
PRINCESS EUGENIE: With a massive hat! Quick, get Chris Ship on the phone.
DISHY PEASANT FIANCÉ: Errr, do you not think–
PRINCESS EUGENIE and DISGUSTING HATS 1-4: (in unison) NO.
Absurd use of parents’ cash of the week
Brooklyn Beckham, Victoria and David’s lumpen eldest, took time out from his busy schedule of Chloe Moretz and photographing his own siblings this week to proudly present a new belly tat: a lower case, suspiciously RW-typefaced rendering of his childhood nickname.
"That slow-motion death-by-embarrassment rumbles nepotistically on," some might say. "Wasn't Buster the UK's 19th most popular dog name in 2014," you could plausibly add.
But not me! Who am I to doubt the torso choices of everyone's favourite perma-gurning 'social' 'influencer'? I shall follow suit, and let the Insta-likes roll in.
Anxiety of the week
Tapeworms in sushi
Monday night. Dinner imminent. 'HOW THE SUSHI BOOM IS FUELLING TAPEWORM INFECTIONS,' screamed Twitter. 'HOW WORRIED SHOULD SASHIMI LOVERS BE?'.
The butternut squash and lentil curry could wait. Obviously I had to find out.
On and on it went ('bloody diarrhoea', 'there's a piece of intestine hanging out of me', 'it starts moving'); anxiety building in my own bowels like a 7ft life-ruining parasite. Could they survive a London winter? When had I last checked my stools? Was that just a tapeworm twinge?
Then I remembered: I never eat sushi.