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Toilet humour.

I love Mr.B. I can't stop watching this. Never has toilet humour been executed so well. I am seriously considering regrowing the Hindenburg moustache I had 20 years ago.




Experimenting with my new flash. The ancient three-year-old gerbil was very tolerant. 



Cute new BHA video series with Stephen Fry narrating. 



It's silly, I know, but I was browsing IMDB last night and discovered that John Neville died more than two years ago and I hadn't been aware of it, and I felt rather sad about this. He'll always be the Baron to me. A surprising number of the cast of Baron Munchausen are dead now. It seems only recently I was watching it at the cinema when it first came out but it was actually decades ago. Kid actress Sara Polley is the same age as my wife! I feel old.

I'm looking forward to seeing the surviving Pythons this summer before they all die too.
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Camera Roll-89

A fuzzy iPad photo of Jonathan Meades giving a talk about brutalist architecture to the Regency Society in the spectacular music room of Brighton Pavilion. For months Jon (jermynsavile) and I had been as excited about this as small children going to Disneyland. There was a tense moment when Jon's tickets failed to materialise but it all turned out well in the end and we sat there in our coats at the beginning grinning at each other like idiots. Like many Meades fans, his programmes are one of the few reasons I will ever tune into broadcast TV. To those of you unfamiliar with Meades, he has created a sort of Reservoir Dogs screen persona and delivers his programmes as verbal barrages which, oddly, despite the extremely visual subject matter, are more akin to radio than television. Somewhat slower and unedited in real life he was, if anything, even more bizarre. Tiny, irritable eyes embedded in that big flaccid face it soon became evident that he was going to deliver nothing less than, verbatim, the entire script of his last two TV episodes. Spontaneous and engaging are not qualities he's bothered to cultivate and I don't suppose he needs to either. After an hour and a half of this the charming chairman of the Regency Society hesitantly placed a note on Meades's lectern which, we gathered, read something along the lines of "Brighton City Council are going to turf us out of here at 9pm." Meades froze as if in terror, but more likely rage, and then, in stony silence, turned over the last five pages of his script like sheets of lead and wound up the lecture; an episode of comic drama which Jon reckons was worth the whole £10 ticket price. There was a brief Q&A session during which I asked him if there was a better name for brutalism and he shot back "chummy, matey concrete".

Meades didn't join us for wine afterwards in the fancy kitchen with its iron columns disguised as palm trees. His loss. I found that the Regency Society is made up mostly of immensely literate, witty conversational retired people and I will make an effort to meet them again I think.
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West Pier, Brighton. Missing some more sections following the recent storm.

Another section of the ruin of the West Pier got washed away by the storm yesterday. I went to have a look today. Some people in Brighton are quite sad about this, which is quite touching when you consider that the pier barely exists at all now. They don't want their ruin ruined even more. I felt a little envious that I'm stuck in a small town inland and wasn't able to watch, free of charge, this titanic struggle betwixt nature and a great big chunk of pseudo-oriental Victorian marine engineering. 



Brighton toy museum

At the Brighton toy museum today, which occupies a windowless vaulted space underneath the Victorian railway station. They've crammed a lot in there. Toys have evolved like living things, leaving behind dead-ends, such as the precursors of Lego: wooden or bakelite blocks that were locked or glued together. The typology of the very recent past is surprising. We discard so much innovation. Toys were a bit more dangerous and fun in the past too. Miniature ranges that cooked real food with real fire! Wouldn't that be more educational than fake plastic stuff? I liked the least spectacular 'austerity' toys the most, the 'micromodels'. These are tiny paper cutout models of historic buildings printed on postcard-sized sheets that must have been tortuous to fold and glue together. My favourite was a model of the entire old London bridge standing about 4cm high. It must have taken weeks to build and cost almost nothing.
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Dead fish in a wheelbarrow

The groundsmen who work for our housing association were attempting to correct the pH of the village pond with lime, but it went a bit wrong. This was the result. The live ones were rescued and are currently swimming around in plastic crates.