Irie Member You-oo

According to secret police files, Rastamouse is seven times more likely to be stopped by the police than Fingermouse or Dangermouse.
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Had my first taste of live Wagner last night (the composer not the X Factor one). Which was different. Imagine singing to you missus 'Would you like a cup of tea?' and she sings back 'yes, I would' and I go 'with milk and no sugar' and...well you get the idea. It's not got a lot of songs, there was an anti-semitic subtext that I totally missed until I read about it in the programme and it was in English, which is just odd. But that's the ENO for you, a people's palace of a theatre in Covent Garden. Unlike the nearby Royal Opera House, it has far fewer of those corporate types you see milling round Bow Street. The advantage of this is that the seats and drinks are cheaper and the staff are a bit chattier (they'll let you change seats in the interval if there's one spare).
It also makes for a strange crowd. Predominantly old, mainly posh (neither of which are that surprising I suppose) but very gay. Lots of Quentin Crisp types discussing the time they saw Tristan at the ENO (and I think they mean Wagner again, not some mate) and quite a few middle aged women who look like a cross between Sandi Toksvig and a female vicar.
Still, better than the tube home where I found myself surrounded by Arsenal fans and was overcome with the smell of Eau de Smug.
Back to Parsifal. Thoroughly enjoyable, though I would prefer a few more songs but then I don't know my arias from my elbow.
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The Telegraph used to be very particular about language. Nowadays, though, if you register on the Telegraph website they don't allow you to use upper case letters for your screen name. A proper noun, in lower case? The world's gone mad, as Richard Littlejohn might say.
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Dinner with my brother this Saturday night. He's bringing his new girlfriend who, apparently, is very young and married. She's nervous about meeting me in case I judge her. Which is ridiculous. I'm narrow minded enough to judge people long before I ever meet them. I think it comes from selling stories to the Daily Mail.
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Dave King, with whom I studied journalism at Harlow has decided to join me in writing for fun rather than work and has started his own blog. A link appears at the side of this page.
Our whole year was banned from The Hare in Harlow, one of my proudest moments. And that group includes people like Daily Mail columnist Sandra Parsons, Guardian diarist Hugh Muir and Andy Roberts, who wrote one of the finest books on Northampton Town you are ever likely to read.
All of use went into local papers after college and Dave went one further by becoming editor of one, the Swindon Advertiser. Like a growing number of my middle aged friends, he is an exercise freak. Don't understand the fascination myself but then I dare say he'll outlive me by a few decades and have the last laugh.
I remember Dave as a very fast and occasionally erratic winger in our football matches. I can only hope he writes in the same style.
I told him that writing a blog is cathartic. Until he gets his first critical comment. Good luck mate.
I reckon the secret is to have a good headline and a good sign off.
Er...bye. Solly