Report from Brighton

This week I have been to Brighton, another seaside town, where large numbers of people who like red things best have gathered for a conference about what it would be like if people who like red things are in charge of everybody. Some of them seem to be under the impression that they already are. Others are arguing about what sort of people who like red things should be in charge of the people who like red things and whether some of the people who like red things like red things more than some of the other people.

As before, I have decided that it’s important I should share my findings of this place with the magnificent readership of the Beans. I learned three things in Brighton.

First, I learned that sand can be really big. Brighton beach is made of sand so big that it’s basically pebbles. Like, each grain is properly pebble sized. I’ve heard it said that they actually are pebbles, but that’s clearly silly because beaches are made of sand.

Second, Brighton is full of very attractive people. Everyone in Brighton is not just beautiful but also very cool, in a sort of unintimidating and effortless way. I feared that I would not fit in with this sort of demographic and feared being rounded up by the police and removed from the town on account of my decidedly ordinary appearance. In the end my boss cut my trip short and redeployed me back to London two days early, which I think was just a cover for the fact that he’d got word from the authorities that I would be exiled if I didn’t leave of my own accord.

The third thing I learned is that you can get a machine that automatically makes pancakes at the push of a button. I know because there was one at breakfast in my hotel.

I was so amazed that I made a video of it, which I have presented here for your enjoyment. The video is soundtracked with an excerpt from the 1996 hit song “Coco Jambo” by Mr President.

You’re welcome.

Report from Bournemouth

This week, my boss sent me to Bournemouth to attend two days of a big meeting where lots of people who all like yellow things came to spend time in each others’ company and talk about what they would do if people who like yellow things were in charge of everything.

I had never been to Bournemouth before, so I thought it would be useful if I presented my findings here for the enrichment of all Beans readers.

Kitty Chang

Last night I met this kitty.

(The photo shows the cat in motion because it didn’t stay still for long.)

I wanted to share this cat with you because it is the first time I have ever met a Chinese cat and what with one of our members being Chinese I thought they might know each other.

This particular cat lived for the first six years of its life in Beijing, and its owners brought it to London when they moved here. About a year later they moved to a new flat where kitties are not allowed and the Chinese cat was rehomed with my friend Andy.

The cat has a Mandarin name that means “Little Black” and which is very hard to pronounce so these days it is generally addressed as “mate”.

The brick

Recently I moved into a new flat, as described earlier. It’s nice. It’s got bedrooms and a kitchen and a balcony and some toilets and all that sort of thing.

Next to the front door, out in the hallway, it’s got a brick.

The brick is painted yellow.

The brick is mounted on canvas.

The brick is inside a perspex display case.

When you look down the hall, every flat has a yellow brick in a perspex display case to the left of the front door. We asked the landlord (who owns the building) why this might be the case. They said they weren’t sure, and they said it might be an artistic thing, and they said they think the flat number might be painted on it.

The flat number isn’t painted on it.

It’s just a brick.

Call the lawyers

I have recently learned of some remarkable similarities between a song by the world’s most popular bands, The Papples, and another rock/pop act. It would not be exaggerating things to say that this appears to be a shameless, barefaced act of plagiarism.

Remind yourself, if you will, of the track Tigerplane vs Chickencopter from the Papples’ fifth studio album A Sensual Awakening.

Now cock an ear at the song XTC vs Adam Ant by They Might Be Giants, from their 1996 album Factory Showroom.

Well, here we have two songs about an epic battle to the death between two sworn enemies. And just look at all the similarities.

Both songs have a gripping storyline in which first one combatant appears to be winning but then the other makes a decisive blow for victory
Both songs tell us “there is no wrong or right”
Both songs tell us the two parties are fighting but “there is no reason why”

I find it, frankly, unbelievable that a band signed to a major record label can be allowed to get away with ripping off the Papples’ own original work, and worse still, they had the cheek to do it nineteen years before the Papples even wrote the song.

I think it’s time to call our hot shot lawyers. Justice must be done.

How much stuff I own

Moving house is many things, principal among them a pain in the arse. But it is also a golden opportunity to put everything you own in one place and see how much of it there is.

On Friday, I took this van (with exciting tail lift on which I rode up and down a number of times):

I then inserted into it all my shite:

The amount of stuff I own is therefore precisely the amount of stuff you see above, plus the clothes I was wearing and a Peugeot 207.

I hope this has been as informative and satisfying for you as it has been for me.

Trekkin’ Abroad: More France

I went to France again, this time for two actual weeks. I made a number of important discoveries to supplement the important knowledge I gained on my last visit.

France has almost no vegetables. Eating green things is considered suspicious and even ordering a “salad” in a restaurant will cause you to be served with a steak, a large portion of chips, a thick peppercorn sauce and a single leaf of curly lettuce. This is not a bad thing in itself, but I am concerned that the majority of the French population may be permanently constipated.
My skin, especially the skin on the top of my head which has only really been able to see daylight for the last year or two, is liable to burn even when protected by a hat and a layer of factor 30 suncream thick enough to dip crisps in.
I am suffering pastry withdrawal symptoms.
French kitties who live in flowerbeds in the street do not want to be your friend.
Forgetting to post to the Beans while away will cause you to lose one bean on the Bean Counter. The Bean Counter is unforgiving of holiday time.

I was hoping to gather more information over a two week period, but the French are a crafty people, and ensured I was plied with excellent beers, wines and artisanal ciders, so to be honest I don’t really remember much of it and the four points above are all I came away with.

Kitty ownership question

The other day, I found a kitty on the street near my flat and stopped to stroke it. The kitty then followed me all the way home and was quite insistent that the stroking should continue. It was all set to follow me right into the flat and the only way I could stop it coming into the building with me was to distract it temporarily while I ran inside.

This is the kitty.

I have seen the kitty on one other occasion, when my family were visiting, and it seemed equally keen to spend time with all of them. We decided to name her Kevinetta.

My question is this. The kitty appeared to want to come and live with me, but I suspect someone else thinks the kitty lives with them. If I see the kitty again, can I keep it?

Pouring
Beans

Author: Criss Crimz