- The arhythmic limps of two disabled walkers, cycling in and out of syncronisation like Captain Beefheart's Magic Band during the Trout Mask Replica recording sessions. To the tune of a busker's tin-whistle rendition of Pop Goes the Weasle they amble proudly shoulder-to-shoulder.
- The ubiquitous perma-stickiness found on all pub tables. Available in a wax or a spray from all good licensing trade wholesalers.
- My one-year old godson's obvious delight and glee when glancing shoes in Neu Look, escalators and bras in Debenhams, and a plastic illuminated panel with a grass pattern in Arndale Market.
- The endless hours your (my) fiancee can spend getting her make-up done by your (our) friend who works at Urban Decay.
- The way drinks always leave a wet circle even if you don't spill. And how the good drinks (a cold beer, white wine or whiskey) will drip condensation all down your front.
- The way you think writing a list of observations, instead of a single expanded and explored thought, will be an easy way of blogging, and how it can turn out to be quite a struggle. See any episode of Just A Minute featuring Paul Merton or Clement Freud for examples of the difficulties, and potentially high rewards, of listing.
- A couple sitting alone (you know what I mean... together, but alone) at a table. One props her ehad with one hand and taps away ignorantly on her phone. He taps his foot, scratches his chin, sniffs his finger, takes a sip of his pint, shuffles and reshuffles his arse in his seat, and looks blankly at the menu for the fifth time. Mobile phones: the rudest piece of shit on the planet, after the people that use them.
That was the equivilant of building a wooden chair by simply pouring carpenter's tools onto the table and saying 'ere, look at these. Just spare parts and tools lying there ineffectually. Anyway, I am shit. Clement Freud was not. Here he is at his best: