Communing with my Inner Idiot
So I was woken up the other day by the sound of Son #2 leaping about excitedly because The Goon Show was on the radio. (Actually, it was the TV, as that’s where our digital reception comes from, but let’s not let today’s climate of technological ambiguity get in the way). So, as I was awake anyway, I ambled down the stairs and sat shivering in the living room wondering what I was doing up at that ungodly time of the day.
Unfortunately, listening to Spike Milligan before actually being awake is not a good idea. I am now, officially, broken. Some essence of Milligan has seeped into the twisty canals of my spicy brain and has congealed into a nasty tendency to turn everything I hear into a silly nonsensical poem in my head. And it won’t stop.
November 7, 2008 at 4:21 am
> congealed into a nasty tendency to turn everything I hear into a silly nonsensical poem in my head
Could be worse – if it was turning everything into anagrams you’d stall… Neurgh, I feel one coming on… [no carrier]