Tie Me Up

Partly because I wanted a bright photo in amongst the dreich grey of the onset of a damp winter; and partly because I won't be taking the camera home because I've got a few things to fetch from the supermarket en route from the office and there's only finite space within my bag on the bike - you get a picture of the ties that live in a drawer at work, coming out depending on what mood I'm in and what colour of shirt I'm wearing.

I hated ties as a schoolkid - but I really like ties now. Don't know what it is, but I've spent a pretty penny on this lot.

And with not much else to report today I've got nothing else to write about. I did try picking three words at random from a book sitting beside my desk (a signed copy of the Sportswriter by Richard Ford) to see where it lead. A stream of forced conscious if you like.

'dozed' 'mine' 'something' didn't do much for me however.

So instead I leave you with some English language pedantry. Before which I must state that I have every sympathy with those suffering the rain and floods down south at the moment and cannot even begin to imagine what those people who still cannot get back into their homes are feeling. But I expect better of BBC reporters - "Cumbria braces itself for more flooding". 'Cumbria' braces itself does it? Cumbria, the newly self-aware county following an experiment with artificial intelligence? "The people of Cumbria are bracing themselves." I have serious doubts whether the entity known as Cumbria has any feelings or concerns one way or the other.

Actually, coming full circle, when were male BBC reporters given the green light to stop wearing ties? You could be standing reporting on the greatest tragedy to hit the earth, but dammit I demand sartorial propriety. They'll be wearing white socks with black shoes and trousers next.

And no, I haven't turned into Gok Wan - for one thing I have yet to comment on Jackie Bird's bangers.

p.s. I hear Jedward are no longer on the X-Factor? My understanding of this is that the average IQ of the British population has risen slightly as a result. I have an idea for a competing show. The Q-Factor. We announce that there will be auditions for people with no discernible talent to appear on television making utter pillocks of themselves, then leave them outside to queue. And once those who refuse to 'give up on a dream' of wanting to 'share their talent with the world' have all passed away of starvation or exposure we invite those who weren't able to make it to the auditions to film I'm Not a Celebrity Get Me In There where the contestants are fed live and whole to giant pythons and if all of this distracts too much from Z-List celebs having their moment in the limelight then we can have Strictly Come Fencing. With real swords. And no padding. Ratings winners all, with the side effect of cleaning up the gene pool slightly.