Ted Max

He's 92 you know. 92.

He's only got Corbett on the speakerphone, telling him he's had that Tess Daly daily. The vile old flangehound.

I seen that Bruce Forsythe on the P13 the other day. He was sitting over the wheel arch, lewdly patting the empty seat next to him when the fit checkout girls came off shift at Sainsbury's. What a twatknuckle.

It's a Malcolm Gladwell thing in Blink. 65% (or some other number) of Fortune 500 CEOs are 6ft plus.

He could be staring at you really crossly and you'd never know.

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A mother hands her baby pieces of biscuit that small, stiffening fingers are unable to hold onto. ?Do you,? she says, ?Do you really? I never meant any of this.? The blue-cheeked child watches the light on his mother?s phone go on, go off, go on, go off - and smiles an unnoticed smile.

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A woman scatters crumbs onto the hard earth, although she knows no birds will come to feed. The sun sets behind exo-skeletal trees, wasting its beauty.

Brendan's met his Monday copy deadlines, everyone. Time for some tits-out fun on the EDF.

I think it's just the cold, hard cynicism in their eyes that's so appealing. "See us take this medium," they say, "which offers so much potential for cultural enrichment, for exposure to new experiences, for shared knowledge and expanded horizons. See us take it and traduce it, and cheapen it and you, and enrich only ourselves. Laugh as the grub-eating wretches embrace each fresh opportunity to demean themselves, and think not that you demean yourselves. Now call this number to save Camilla." You can't help but love them.

Aw, did you get caught in the rain this morning, Quids? http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/5379312/2/istockphoto_5379312-portrait-of-a-man-with-beautiful-curly-hair.jpg

...Firstly, im sure TLS would have come out with some other great examples of real Characters.... Daisy said (tu) (See I can do formatting finally, B)) Cheers me old mucker, unfortunately the good citizens (or should that by City-zens) of the EDF will have no idea that just on their doorstep used to exist a world of characters, yes so much variety, multi-cultural before multi-culture was invented by those who want nothing to do with it, don't make me laugh. How would the EDF in-crowd react to people like Simple Lenny, who used to ride his bike backwards up East Street wearing a fez and throwing coppers to us kids. Or Big Dora, who owned all the working girls from Elephant to Burgess Park and ran the Inn & Temple from her upstairs bed using a system of ropes and pulleys. But can you mention that and not expect to get howled down by the oh-so broadminded :)) ignorati on here, then I don't think so Lord Copper. If you want to see real characters now you have to move from Inner London, to London suburbs like Sydney, Cape Town and Bexley Heath. Unfort these sorts of characters aren't the sort of characters that would fit in on the EDF, so they don't exist to some on here. :)-D

Sounds like even the whisky macs weren't doing the job last night. Hope you're feeling better soon, PGC.

Zoots Loots!

I want a night club with white-clothed tables sporting onyx lighters and lampshades borne aloft by art-deco bronze nudes. A chap called Charles (pronounced the French way) guides you to a table near the front, discreetly palming your white five pound note as he does so. As you sit your squeeze down, champagne appears without bidding, and the band begins to play "They didn't believe me". Is that too much to ask?

Barry Ma... Oh, I see what you mean.

I'm sure Jah knows when he's onto a good thing, and I fancy him myself, but isn't it the job of a certain type of landlady to make all the regulars think she'd kindly take them down the cellar and leave them gasping over a casket, if it wasn't for his nibs with his name above the door?

Poor the Finnegan. The only woman John Leslie ever wanted to see less of.

Hey, we're over all the nasty stuff, Looch. Don't begin again on the Finnegan.

After you've done that perhaps you can sort out a Forum spell checker? *Looks up*

Looking over the fence yesterday evening.

I will not, but I might be tripping among the Aspidistras on Wednesday - if there's anything left for the French to play for.

I don't know about that, but I do know it's time for Spooks. Ruth! Roz! Harry! Lucas! The little blonde one with no good lines!

The ball was lost in autumn and then found in winter. It is "now" winter. Killed at birth: a series of cloyingly sentimental episodes based around a theme of Winter on Goose Green.