Wow!

FOR ENGLAND!! *drops shield*

I'm trying out some new openings (as the actress playing a bishop said to herself! LOL!), so forgive the shield thing. I think it could be the new "hello".

It's tweet time again. I still haven't returned to the glory days of peak performance, where I'd throw out ten dozen quips before breakfast, but I've left it long enough to have accrued a reasonable crop.

I wrote some cutting things during Euro 2012 that I haven't repeated here, because nobody cares about that pointless tournament now. To revisit them would be like going to see the the film Phone Booth at the cinema twice.

What's left however, is content that remains relevant all year round. These will stand the test of time. You might be reading this in the future, and telling people that my tweet about apples is as true as it ever was.

If you are reading this in the future, thank you. May your snikeblomming continue unabated.

Let's do this. Let's do this RIGHT NOW.

Get ready for another edition of:

Evergreen Sloganeering

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Sometimes I only remember to cover my mouth several seconds after I've finished yawning. 

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There is no sound more degrading to the human spirit than an off-mic Mark Lawrenson chuckle.

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95% of wows are undeserved. 

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I'd really like there to be a suggestion box in the coffee shop, but there's no way of letting them know. 

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You can take the seahorse out of the sea, but you can't take the sea out of the seahorse (or the horse). 

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There's a long-running feud between people who spell feud "fued" and people who aren't pricks. 

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In a brave attempt to stave off boredom, I've decided to become really angry. 

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Just saw someone with a side-parting and became so enraged that I dug my fingernails into my palm. Through HIS palm. 

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Just punched a watch for not laughing at my "won't give me the time of day" joke. An analog NOBODY.

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Anger is more boring than boredom. I'm going to try a hybrid of distrust and lust. I call it distlust.

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I can't help but feel your bra has an ulterior motive...  

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Say mould, say mould. 

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It's a bad sign when you find yourself shouting "YOU CAN'T ACT!!" at the TV and it isn't even on. 

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Nod and say "Exactly. Exactly." to all graffiti. 

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Every time Jamie Carragher is speaking, I have to dial down the "Scouse contrast" on my TV. 

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Just had a very productive shower. I came up with an amazing rap song called "Elbowed in the Windpipe" (The title is also the main hook) 

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Lyrics include: "You say that it's only an elbow / I say "Well, no / it hurts like fuckin' hell, bro!" ‪#elbowedinthewindpipe

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Later: "You say it was accident, yes. / But if I was wearing a sharp necklace, I'd be neckless / So don't be reckless!" ‪#elbowedinthewindpipe

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I'm going to make a lot of money. 

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I'm having a bad hair day. Oh. No, sorry - not "hair". I meant " ".

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I'm in the finals of the World Inconspicuous Dog-Walking Championship. Tough competition, but I've taken a slender lead.

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I'm working on a shrug so intense that my shoulders will meet above my head.

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I wrote a book on solipsism and had it signed by the author. 

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*verbs* 

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Humbloffee Pie. 

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Spider-Man always wakes up a few seconds early, when his spider-sense warns him his alarm clock is about to go off.

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I just pressed a keyboard key with my mouse. From now on, nothing will ever be the same. 

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I'll give you my poisoned Calippo when you pry it from my cold, dead hands. 

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FUNNY JOKE: What do you have to do to get a blue plaque? Play it some Elliott Smith. 

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I mean, technically plaques don't have ears. But I've never claimed to be Mike Leigh. 

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(BTW, I'm Mike Leigh) 

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*exists* 

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Every piece of advice contains a further implicit piece of advice recommending that you follow it. 

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In space, no-one can tell if your applause is sarcastic. 

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I just said "If that doesn't get me a retweet, nothing will!" to the guy who empties our recycling bins. Don't think he heard me... 

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One of my favourite football expressions is describing a player performing "week in and week out". As though time needs further explanation. 

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"I'm working on a new catchphrase" is my new catchphrase. 

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Kang the Conqueror on his invisible floating cushion chair looks like the guy on the "Caution: Wet Floor" sign.

(I'm so, so bored) 

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Before you go to sleep, I want you all to pray that Daniel Radcliffe is cast in the next Expendables film.

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I just jumped for joy and 2Pac. 

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Has anyone ever been accused of stalking the Stork King? If not, I may have invented a new animal crime. 

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Just once, I'd like to say on the phone "Uh, sir? We've got a situation here..." Because situations are RIFE. 

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Cloud, clown; crowd, crown.

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Just phoned Facilities to ask if they'll install handsomeness-dampening filters in all office mirrors. I need to get some work done.

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"Quick! All of you - into the bunker!" - Pressed-For-Time Bunker Salesman. 

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Walking home, Lucy & I imagined fights between various rhyming celebrities. Liam Neeson beat Brendan Gleeson. Nick Nolte beat Basil Fawlty. 

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The bout between Henry Winkler and Steven Pinkler was ruled a no contest due to the latter being fictional. 

[Paul/Editor's Note: @tomgreeves correctly pointed out that Basil Fawlty was also fictional. I hadn't spotted the flaw in my logic.]

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Remember Pancake Day? WHAT WERE WE ALL THINKING?!

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I can't wait to explain GIFs to my grandchildren. 

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Get this! A tiger foetus is a "work-in-tigress"! (Like "work-in-progress"!!) ‪#smile‬ ‪#thursday

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"THE PLANE IN SPAIN STAYS MAINLY ON THE WAYNE" would have been a great headline if John Wayne had been killed in a plane crash (in Spain). 

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In the journal of Ruth, there's a kernel of truth. 

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I hate it when people say "haitch" when selling you rabbit supplies. 

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I left an apple on my desk over the weekend. It's still here, and now I'm worried that the office horse is dead. 

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I've just learned a very important lesson about inflating lesson importance. 

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I've been practising looking surprised, so that when I'm ACTUALLY surprised, I won't look too surprised. 

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"No, I didn't say it had a blue plaque. I said it had a BLOOP LACK. Do you see any bloop around here? Exactly." ‪#estateagents 

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I think there might be some kind of alphabetic conspiracy, because two 'o's are in cahoots. 

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Overheard outside our flat just now: "Hey, do you remember that episode of Sliders?". We need to move to a different neighbourhood. 

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I've never considered myself  

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Not too many, but enough. That's just the tip of the comedy iceberg. If you'd like to see more of these kinds of things (if, for example, you've suffered a brain injury), you can follow me on Twitter here, or just click here for some more of these compilationy things.

Have a splendid today.

Development

This may be controversial, but I believe all Panamanians are liars.

Ask them. They'll say they are not liars, proving my point.

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I don't know, man...

It's been a strange couple of decades for me. I just haven't had much stability. Moving from school (primary) to school (secondary), from college (sixth form) to college (Mansfield), living in a wide variety of different buildings, being a wide variety of different heights.

I can't tell you how many pairs of shoes I've owned since the 80s, but it must be over a dozen.

I should bring an end to this erratic lifestyle. I'm nearly thirty. It's time to settle down. I'll settle down at thirty.

No more frivolous age changes. No more increasing my age by a year on an annual basis. No more following the latest trends and fashions for incremental ageing. I need to make a choice and stick with it. Thirty will be where I lay my hat and build my house on a non-sand foundation. I'll stick my flag in the earth and move forward never more.

Unless I get bored. Which might happen. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But only once. Unless I get bored.

I don't know, man...

It's like the man says: "It's like the man says".

It would be different if I had a calling. Not better, but different.

Imagine if I'd always been obsessed with becoming a darkroom.

That would give me a goal to work towards. I'd spend time excavating my torso, installing one of those red light bulbs, considering ways to contain developing fluid without poisoning myself. That kind of project would make me excited to get up in the morning.

Would I develop photographs in myself, or would that duty fall on others? Would the prominence of digital photography make equipment more expensive and harder to come by? Would a life spent as a darkroom mean that I would have to stay relatively still, reducing the time I had for actual photography?

I wouldn't have been so aimless in my education and employment. I'd know exactly which courses to take (photography, human structural engineering, marketing). I could have done an internship at a photography studio, or gain experience in some other similar project (such as a woman who has decided to transform one of her legs into a greenhouse).

I'd know who I was. I'd know where I needed to be, and what steps should be taken to get there.

[Side note: I just spoke to Lucy about the possibility of becoming a darkroom. Her response: "It would be difficult. It is quite dark in the human body, but there isn't much room." Always the comedian, she is.]

You see these Olympic athletes, and they've known what they wanted to do since they were five years old, and have worked towards achieving that goal ever since. Direction. Discipline. Courage in the face of adversity.

There is no human darkroom Olympics, as far as I'm away, but the comparison is still apt.

But of course, there are drawbacks to having that kind of focus. You can lose sight of other options. You may be trapped within a narrow channel of purpose. What if you want to change your mind? What if you're two weeks away from the Olympic long jump finals and you realise you would rather jump shorter distances?

And, by the same token, my darkroom ambition could be similarly restrictive. I might decide half way through the process that I no longer want to be a darkroom. Someone could have almost finished wiring up the electrics in my rib cage, and I might decide that I'd rather be a professional skateboarder.

That would throw a spanner in the works.

Maybe I'm better of being vague and ephemeral. I can change my mind at any point. That freedom may leave me feeling aimless, but at least I have options.

I won't take any of those options, but I still have them. Not taking options is an option that's open to me.

And it doesn't mean I can never be a darkroom. Perhaps one day I will be. When I'm retired, I'll have all the time in the world for that kind of stuff.

I'll be respected when I'm old (after forty years of being thirty).

"Look," my grandchildren will say. "That's my granddad. The awesomest skateboarding darkroom who ever snikeblommed".

(The word "snikeblommed" is future slang, the meaning of which won't be known until Easter 2019.)

I don't know, man...

and there's nothing wrong with that.