I was at Oxford Train Station on Wednesday morning, waiting to get a train from the station to another station in another city. That's how transport works.
I don't need to capitalise Train Station, I'm sure. But it makes it seem like a more imposing building, and I want everyone to know that I visit imposing places. It makes me imposing by association.
I was milling about at the station. Which sounds more industrious than the truth: I was awkwardly bumbling about, getting in people's way(s) and generally acting in a suspicious manner. I'm not very comfortable in my own skin or shoes. I try to act normal, which makes me worry about every aspect of my posture and face (and face posture), so I end up seeming like a badly-operated puppet.
(On re-reading these first few paragraphs, they seem to almost be a parody of my own style. If someone wanted to make fun of my writing, they would have written the above. I don't want to make fun of my writing and no-one else cares, so it can only be a coincidence.)
At one stage, I accidentally bumped into a teenage tourist.
I'm not totally certain he was a tourist, though he was wearing a rucksack. He did seem to be a teenager though, unless they age differently on the continent. I think in hot climates, the time spent taking siestas increases the youthfulness of the locals by ten to twelve years.
So I accidentally bumped into him. Probably because I was shifting my balance awkwardly, hoping my gait didn't make me seem like an uncoordinated loser.
My friend Alex (who loves the word gait, and the suffix "-gate") witnessed Bumpgate first hand.
The tourist, clearly panicked, made a big show of checking his pockets, checking his bag, desperately making sure I hadn't stolen anything.
It was probably a sensible move. We've all heard of the old "accidentally bump into someone and steal their wallet technique". It happens all the time in films. And I'm sure this tourist was told about the legendary British pickpockets and their sly ways.
He looked at me suspiciously.
What I should have done is made a surprised face, followed by a reassuring smile, denying any wrongdoings. Perhaps I could have offered a verbal assurance.
But it was early, so my brain wasn't thinking so quickly. So I just sort-of looked at him blankly. It was an odd reaction to have, and probably watered those seeds of suspicion in his febrile European brain.
It was exactly the same as the time I encountered a girl in the men's toilets. I was surprised, but not really surprised enough to be convincing.
I seemed like either an evil, manipulative genius or the slowest man in the world. And people, who always assume the intellectual best and moral worst in a fellow human being, wrongly believe I'm the former.
The teenager eyed me suspiciously from then on. I almost felt like genuinely stealing something, to give him something to pin his distrust on. It would have been a story to share around the paella: an encounter with a genuine English cockney street-urchin, albeit a slow-witted one.
With my beard, I generally expect to be suspected of terrorism. Which I'm fine with, as it implies a sense of (misguided) moral purpose. But to be suspected of thievery is just cheap and unpleasant.
I don't know what country the teenager was from - I have no clues about his ethnicity or origin - but I can only assume he came from a country that had been crippled by the repression of the Stasi.
And what he's doing taking siestas and eating paella in East Germany, I have no idea.
Also, he was born after the fall of the Berlin wall, but it takes a few generations to breed out mistrust.
***
How about some more of my recent tweets? That always seems to go well, judging by the lack of outright abuse.
I mean, some of these short jokes have been of a terribly high standard. But I never get any feedback. I suppose you're all laughing so hard, you CAN'T TYPE DUE TO TREMORS OF HILARITY.
Well, I'll show you all. I'm going to sell some of these to Jimmy Carr. Then who'll be laughing? I'll tell you who: awful, awful people.
TweTwa
***
Sugar-glass rules are made to be broken.
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Humpty Dumpty is a shell of his former self :-(
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"Ambassador, with this lack of fridge you are really spoiling us!" - The Milk People
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If these walls could talk, they'd be muffled by the wallpaper.
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My greatest weakness is my fatal allergy to femurs.
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I wonder when "Wow!" became the official exclamation of awe. Maybe it used to be "Awe!" but palindromes conjure a greater sense of wonder.
***
You can burst into tears, flames, song, or a room. But you can't (or at least shouldn't) burst into a pint glass.
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I avoid spelling cleeshays.
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There are few things more pleasing than a cat curled up in a patch of sunlight. Saves on cooking time.
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I'd like to carry a bumblebee in a melon baller. How satisfying would that be? Very satisfying.
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I'm not a situationist. Some of my best friends are situations.
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I'm never sure if light is on my side: friendton or photon?
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The last time I went bowling, I kicked over all the pins before we started. (It was a preemptive strike)
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I'm really hitting my peak! Which is why I'm no longer allowed custody of any mountains. :-(
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I'd rather be egged on than egged off.
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I'm going to take a long, hard look at myself. Then two short, soft looks at myself. Then a long, soft look at you. Then blink. Then repeat.
***
I'd love to attend a Teddy Bears' picnic, but they always give such short notice.
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Don't underestimate children. There's loads of them.
***
I can't help but think
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What do you call the hole in a urinal? It's not quite a drain, and it's not quite a plughole. I suggest we refer to it as 'the Gove'.
***
I'm not saying I'm a pessimistic gardener, but I do tend to use a watering can't.
***
I'm not saying that beginning a joke with "I'm not saying" is a lazy device, but I'm THINKING it.
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The greatest living screen actor is Gene McClean, the Human Screen. (Frankly, the best of a bad bunch)
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The most convenient way to carry a holster is wrapped around a gun.
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Wane Runey #astrologicalfootballers
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You can italicise the world if you tilt your head whenever you see something important.
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A spouse is not a spome.
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I used to be in a barbershop quartet, but four pairs of scissors led to too much scalp trauma.
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I used to be in a Babarshop quartet. I'll never forget it...
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I used to be in a Patrick Marbershop quartet. ... *shrug*
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Do you think Wonder Woman's bracelets can deflect semen? (Asking for a friend)
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Good news: I will be representing Laos at the Nationality Falsification Championships!
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"There Was An Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe." No there wasn't
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The rich get richer and the itchy get itchier.
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Q: What did one golf club say to another? A: "If I've got a mouth and you've got ears... I... Man, this is some fucked up shit.." #golfjokes
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Why did Tiger Woods get arrested at a beginners' playground? He took a practice swing. #golfjokes
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I can't believe it's not putter. #golfjokes #punchlineonly
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Q: Why does the 11th hole have a corpse in the bunker? A: Something terrible has happened. #golfjokes
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I'm the new Bob Hope.
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How many women do you think The Count from Sesame Street has killed?
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I'm rebranding my lower lip as 'the foundation lip', so it doesn't feel belittled.
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Some people are so attractive, I just can stop myself from being them.
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If you could go back in time and kill your own murderer, wouldn't you?
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People might be interested in what I have to say. But no-one is interested in what I CHOOSE to say.
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The air is very still today. But the conversation is SPARKLING.
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Prude [noun]: A prune with a cold.
***
I loved that experiment where scientists grew an ear on the back of a mouse. In the utopian future, we'll all have mice on our ears.
***
Cheerio!
Hey, that's weird. There's a cereal called Cheerios.
But I think they'd find it harder to market Goodbyes.
Little black discs. Each one representing an unfulfilled hope.
For the ideal start to your mourning.
And now new Frosted Goodbyes!
Ideal for breaking icy ground with an old shovel. A shovel that has done more than dig, this cold January morn.
From Nestlé.
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