Mysterious women, thrashing guitars and hacking limbs - 04/09/2006

Kept my eyes peeled for the misery today but to no avail. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing, she's this high class, high maintenance honey and here I am looking gangsta with a mo haircut, combats and a baseball shirt. I wouldn't want to talk to me.

After my grumblings, and they still remain, about all the quiz programmes on the TV I found myself sucked in by one of them. It's good research though as it allows me to slate them even more intensely.

I started watching on Tuesday night as one of the presenters is this reasonably attractive, curvy blonde. I gave the show some minutes whilst I waited for a wide angled shot to see what she was wearing. The question was Down__________ and I waited for the host of calls to come in to correctly guess the answer. People called in but no one seemed to say down under which I thought was incredibly obvious. The cheapest prize on offer was £4,000 and with their continual goddam talking and encouragement of you to call up thought that no one was phoning the show.

I succumbed and thought 'sod it' I'll give it one go. I dialed the number and it came up engaged. As that hadn't cost anything I tried again. This time the recorded message kicked in saying "let's see if you will be put through to the studio" a pause, then a recorded audience groan and a "sorry you have not made it through". The rub though is that during all this time the woman on the telly hadn't taken a single call. I realise it's a money making scam but you do get the impression that they are encouraging you to call because no one else is. In reality they are pleading with you to call yet have hundreds of callers that they choose simply not to take or put on hold, which must be even more frustrating when you can see by watching the show that they aren't taking calls. About five minutes later someone called in and said down under, which amazingly wasn't there as wasn't downtown or downloaded. I went away and brushed my teeth, got a drink and came back and still they hadn't had one correct answer, bearing in mind there were 10 down________'s to choose from. Hey, I salute the cleverness at getting people to call up, including myself, but it is fascinating how they can be so openly devious.

There was another one I saw when I was flicking through the channels. I must add at this point that I realise I'm coming across as a serial watcher but come 11.30 on freeview there must be 7-8 different channels showing this crap. I know I could switch off and go to bed but I'm a virtual insomniac so late night tv is my refuge. Anyway there was this one show where the question was hot_________. One had been guessed correctly as hot water but they were so desperate for someone to get another that they offered a clue saying it was part of the body. Naturally hot headed is screaming in your mind at this point. They also offered a clue that is related to _______and crossbones. Ok so that's skull which in turn is the head, so yeah hot headed. No, the actual answer was hot skull!!!! What the fuck is that? How is that a saying, you might as well phone in and if lucky enough to get through say something completely obscure like hot celery or hot thimble.

I saw the misery, I think I will now call her the mystery as it is a bit more enigmatic, on Wednesday morning. I was driving into Blackheath as I always do, I looked up the road as I approached a junction and there she was waiting to cross. I slowed to let her over and she kind of motioned with her hand but naturally didn't smile. She did though make eye contact with me. I don't mean this in a 'she obviously wants me' way but rather that if I stopped and attempted to make an approach it might look even dodgier. I felt this knot begin to appear in the pit of my stomach as I considered whether I should still try and hand her a card. My only option was to get far enough ahead that I could sensibly park up and then walk back.

Unfortunately the traffic was solid and I crept along at about the same pace that she walked. It did give me an opportunity to look at her a bit more but with my stomach unease spreading I seemed over cautious that I would be spotted doing so. Today she was wearing a black skirt, white blouse and tourqoiuse jumper. The blouse was sticking out of the bottom of the jumper at the back as if she'd rushed to put it on. In someone that looks so controlled and confident, the hint of normality was quite endearing. It's funny what picture you paint of someone just from looking at them. I've not seen her smile and this leads me to think that either she is a miserable, stuck up cow who never smiles and doesn't have to because men still approach regardless or maybe because she hasn't a great deal to smile about yet just needs a genuine, sincere guy to warm her up.

I can't imagine her being happy with fish'n'chips and a coke and I think she would probably size me up and dismiss me in all but a few minutes but it's this in a way which intrigues me. She is so hopelessly out of my league that it's the notion that maybe I could break through and make a connection, even if it was "get out of my face, you freak". I can be pretty dismissive of pretty or naturally gifted girls, as a pathetic ego protector I'm sure, and I'm curious to see whether she would confirm or contradict my preconceptions.

The day was fairly mediocre and I left the office around 7.40ish to head to the gym. Whilst driving over the heath I was stunned to see mystery girl again. Blimey, this was freaky. Although I looked imbecilic thanks to a colleague penning my tramlines with highlighter I thought I should act on this amazing coincidence. She was walking towards me, wearing the same clothes which is how I managed to recognize her out of the corner of my eye, and I assumed heading to the garage that I'd just passed on the left. I couldn't stop on this road as it is a dual carriageway and thus took the next right, right and right again to bring me into a cul de sac. I grabbed my card and hurried back to the garage. Needless to say she was nowhere to be seen and had just vanished. I wasn't going to try to engage her in lengthy conversation but just tell her that I'd seen her in a bar 6 or 7 weeks ago and then seen her in the mornings when driving through the village. Just tell her that I thought she was very pretty and that I was intrigued to know whether her personality was as attractive as her appearance and then simply hand her the card.

Was I relieved, I don't know. It calmed the low swirling sensation that had begun to build and which I'd hoped to overcome by acting so impulsively and quickly. I wouldn't normally do this and I swear I'm not stalking her but it was just so damn coincidental after having seen her that morning that I felt I had to do something. It is amazing that of all the women I've seen when I've been out in Blackheath that this is the only one who I've regularly seen again. It felt funny to be out of the car at a place that I'd normally just speed through and in a way I felt alive to break the routine a little.

Decided to scrub the gym and instead headed home to watch Seabiscuit which I'd borrowed off a colleague. I'd seen it before and had been pestering her to watch it as I knew she would enjoy it. Despite her stubborness when she did see it, she loved it and it made me want to see it again. Man it was great to watch it again, the last time I'd seen it must have been two years previously, and I'm sure it made me enjoy it even more. It's so sumptiously shot, the characters are well acted and likeable, there isn't a typical bad guy to dislike and watching it made me feel warm inside. The struggling against adversity, the underdog coming through in both seabiscuit and those around him struck a far greater chord than they had the first time. I really like the notion that Seabiscuit was a real character and I particularly identified with his fondness of sleeping in and eating well. The Cassandra Crossing was on telly that night aswell, which I watched. It's got Sophia Loren and Richard Harris, wearing his blackest trousers and jumper to provide an even greater contrast with his youthful golden hair. It isn't a great film by any stretch of the imagination but like some other films it reminds me of being able to stay up late when I was younger. If a film was good or on a Friday night my mum would let me stay up late and it was films like this which offered the first taste of that delicious treat.

Managed to book the Barcelona trip on Thursday through Expedia. Their processes were a little drawn out meaning that I ended up looking at some other agents like Travelocity, Opodo and others but none seemed to offer this fantastic hotel that I'd discovered. By booking the holiday in two lots, four and a three, we managed to go through Expedia and in a way it felt cool to have seen just how new or exclusive Hotel 1898 is as no other company featured it. It's a relief to know that it's been booked and now the task of internet information gathering can begin. I generated this big folder of information for when we went to Las Vegas as I didn't want to waste a moment when I arrived fumbling around deciding what to do. Barcelona will be the same and also I want to show my bosses how excited I am at going and in turn my gratitude for treating us to it.

Talking of information gathering I went into sponge mode on Seabiscuit and did a fair bit of digging on this. It was refreshing to see how close the film was to some of the things that happened to Seabiscuit, particularly his legendary race with War Admiral, which uncharacteristically for a Hollywood film was a virtual carbon copy of the actual race. It's a really fascinating story and I found it opened my eyes to a tiny insight into the world of thoroughbred racing. As well as reading about Seabiscuit, I was fascinated by stories of his great rival War Admiral and also two of the greatest american thoroughbreds Man O' War and Secretariat, who apparently had a heart twice as big as an average thoroughbred. Watched Underworld:Evolution that evening which was formulaic and boring. It seemed to get so caught up in trying to fashion a clever plot, which was confusing and distracting, that the film around the story was an almost boring re-run of the first film. The final fight, which I fell asleep through at one point, was virtually the same as the first with both heroes fighting their requisite bad guys at the same time. And then look out here comes a helicopter crashing through the ceiling, but look it's rotors are still whirring round, no surely the bad guy won't be killed by being pushed into the rotors will he? You catch my drift.

My mate discovered that the UK Air Guitar championships were taking place in Islington on Friday night so we decided to check it out. I must confess at this point that it was only about five years ago that I discovered that an air guitar wasn't a real instrument! Let me explain. When I was younger I was really into Jean Michel Jarre and one of his tricks at his concerts was playing a 'laser harp'. This was a machine that fired up about seven different lasers beams that when he broke with his gloved hands produced a sound. Of course this was all electronically set up but if you could get a laser harp, was the notion of an air guitar being a real instrument so strange?
Anyway we went along to the Carling Islington Academy and it was a fun crowd. Some of the performers were useless but a couple put real passion and effort into their performances and it was certainly entertaining. My two favourites of the evening were Count Rockula and the Hoxton Reaper. Count Rockula performed in a headband, raincoat with collar turned up and a black, knee length, low cut leotard. What really made his performance though was the passion in his face. Lots of bulging eyes and temples, shoved out lips and wild expressions. This guy really got into his act and played the shit out of that air guitar. It was a really close call but he was pipped into second place by the Hoxton Reaper. Now this guy performed in white linen trousers, a tight white lycra top that had a hint of the Freddie Mercury about it and wore this outstanding handle bar moustache (unsure whether it was real). This guy had passion but also real talent and his timing on his pretend instrument was to perfection. He did look like he was playing a guitar and knew just the right time to go slow, perform a full arm swing strum or nail the ultimate fret wank.

We left here when it kicked out, around 10ish, and went to another nearby bar but the atmosphere felt decidely 'edgy' like a fight could kick off at any minute and that isn't our kind of bag. We left and whilst deciding where to head onto next, got chatting to three people who we'd been standing next to at the Air Guitar thing. One of the girls was this really friendly northerner, who asked and then couldn't believe we were single as we were all so nice. She asked why I was single and to save her the long winded explanation thought I'd present her with a card. She has a long term partner, which was fine, but as she enquired I thought I would elaborate. We even discussed how she preferred the cards that are printed on the stock that have an almost suede like feel on the back. It's called curious touch and I admired her attention in noticing it.

I knew I wasn't going out again socially over the weekend so brother and I planned a lazy one involving food, games and DVD's. I think my brother was keen to have some Poulet de Marge again after reading about me cooking it in the office so we hit Tesco's and the DVD store. While he played an Xbox game that I'd hired called Spartan:Total Warrior I got to work prepping the chicken. I'd played this game about a year previously and it had stuck in the back of my mind for some time. The graphics in the game are excellent, the music is this wicked mix of gladiator-esque chants and thumping bass, it's very bloody and cathartic and some of the battles that you get involved in are huge with AI characters running around and really making you feel in the middle of an ancient blood and sandals warzone. As seemed to be the norm this week, he hadn't wanted to play it but once he'd performed his first blood spraying beheading and radial shield bash he was hooked.

I cooked the dinner while he carried on and I've got to say that I created a wonderful feast. I'd cleaned the chip pan out with fresh oil and got some steak chips, we had a mound of egg and crumbed chicken, sorry Poulet de Marge, a bowl of baked beans, another bowl with mushrooms that had been slow cooked in butter and had a little cream added just at the end, buttered baguette and some coke. It might not have been healthy but if was filling and was like some kind of Walton's family spread, even though there was only two of us eating it. You must think I'm a fat bastard but we gorged ourselves and it was good. I must prepare it again for us as our birthdays are soon to be here and it was the standout meal of the weekend. We followed it with Final Destination 3, which was disappointing. Ok I wasn't expecting Shakespeare and had discounted the films until I caught the second half of Final Destination 2 a year back which was ok. As this started with a big rollercoaster accident we thought we'd check it out. I didn't like the characters, the deaths/accidents were telegraphed like a early learning film and it was generally forgettable.

Sunday was really a continuation of the previous day. We both continued to kick some arse on Spartan before watching the film Running Scared starring Paul Walker. There's something about this actor that I really like. You could say he's a surfer dude type and probably not the most gifted actor but for me he has a real presence that I like and the film was surprisingly good. Violent, entertaining and enjoyable. This one was my brothers choice so top marks to him. We had to get the DVD's and game back to the shop for 5.30 but we just had to beat this end of level boss and it was bugging the hell out of the two of us who were taking turns trying to put him down. If the controller wasn't being thrown to the ground in tearful rage then foul expletives were being almost screamed at the telly with dramatic storming out of the rooms by each of us at we kept losing. We began to discover a way of doing him and it might sound sad for grown men but when my bro took that swine down it was a genuine, hugging, high fiving, eureka moment. No sooner had his pixellated blood dried on the computer generated dusty ground that we had fought him on that we had to return it to the shop. We had our victory and we were happy. Watched Blade II again that night, which is still mucho quality and the adult comic book action flick that all should be judged by.

Until we talk again.

First of the Mohicans - 29/08/2006

Another Monday morning meeting that went well followed by a knackering swim. A better Contender this night and it was a lot closer fight between Grady and Vinroy. Although he received a nasty cut above his eye in the third round, Grady managed to prevail though Vinroy did his best to punch and aggravate the cut.

Tuesday was double bill Lost night and I decided on something a little different for tea. A covent garden carbonara sauce, packet and a half of bacon, onion, mushrooms and fresh Tagliaterre. Frustratingly I had to go to another store to pick up the mushrooms as they were sold out at the first place. Why is it, and this might only apply to OCD's like myself, that once you decide on a dish and allow your mind to embrace and almost taste the chosen meal that there is always a vital ingredient that suddenly becomes unobtainable. This is then further compounded by me being the kind of person that once I feel that I'm prevented from having something I want it even more. Hence why I was shooting round to different Sainsburys when I should have been racing home to prep supper. Needless to say the meal was excellent, well okay tasty and filling, which is as good as excellent as far as my brother and I are concerned.

The same could not be said however for Lost. I don 't know if we are at the halfway stage but we really hit two lame filler episodes. The first was about Hurley, how he was going mad and how the cute blonde psychologist fancies him. I'm sorry but my imagination can stretch to mysterious forces, the polar bear roaming the jungle, that black mist thing and all the other peculiarities of the island but the notion that she would be attracted to Hurley after he'd been sweating like a pig and had peanut butter breath is too much. The next episode was the same with classic cases of people seeing/doing things and feeling that it wasn't worth telling others (Rose telling her husband she was better, Kate telling Jack about the other hatch). If we are mid season then so be it but even with a filling carbonara I was left unsatisfied.

Things were quiet on Wednesday but the team went out in the evening which was really nice. We first hit a pub in Borough for a few drinks and some laughs where we discussed the joys of shaving nasal and ear hair and my over usage of Lynx deodorant. We then moved onto Wagamamas. I'd always been intrigued by this place, particularly the name which I think is pretty cool, and it was this curiosity which has led to us all visiting this place. I'd been to a Noodle Time restuarant so was familiar with the whole bench seat, communal style eating. This was a lot more fun though. I'm a simple guy who regards any meal out a treat, especially after work and in central London. We chose a selection of sides / starters, the highlights of which would be these fried breadcrumbed prawn things and what looked like duck filled mini spring rolls. For main I went with a piece of breadcrumbed chicken with Japanese rice (looked and tasted like normal rice to me) and a curry style sauce. Man it was all so tasty. Dessert was this chocolate fudge cake which looked good but wasn't as yummy as the piece of ginger cheesecake that I relieved off a colleague. It was a really nice night. We laughed and joked about the pitfalls of having a number 2 in the countryside, a colleagues increasingly frantic attempts to flush away a secretive office dump and how I once used the line "I've got a fresh sliced loaf and six eggs at home" to entice a woman back to my gaff for some non commital sex. The food was great, we all had good conversations and plenty of laughs and I felt this real feeling of belonging. The team was out and I was pleased and proud to be part of it.

Thursday morning and I saw the misery girl. She had an umbrella up and I only just caught her but she looked great. I had to double once round the village just to see her again to make sure it was her. It was and she was wearing black trousers, white top and this little green cardigan. I hadn't forgotten her but I had pushed her from my mind a little bit so seeing her again brightened my morning. She seems so confident when she strides along, though I have still yet to see her smile. She's tall and slim and that figure looks so good in a pair of trousers. I circled the block again and considered stopping and handing her a card as god knows when I would see her again but I thought against it. Driving into work I kicked myself for not having done something. Live for the now goddamit. Ah well, maybe I'll see her again and have another opportunity. My mate reckons the card is the wrong way but I think it unlikely I'll see her out and I can't just stop her in the middle of the street and attempt to chat her up when she is on her way to work. I think the hit and run method is better. If she has got someone she can throw it away. If not, she could take a look at the site and if she didn't like me then so be it but at least I would have done something. Inactivity guarantees that nothing will happen I guess whereas giving her a card always leaves that sliver of hope.

I was given the task this day of doing some research on our company soiree. Last year they took us to Las Vegas which was amazing and incredibly generous. I wasn't expecting anything like that and what with the mid year burglary would have been happy with a nice meal and a handshake but my bosses are pretty damn special. Three nights in Barcelona is the plan and I got to work looking on Expedia and tripadvisor as to where we should stay. I found this cracking little hotel after much digging on one of the main streets of Barcelona. I think it was the third highest rated hotel on Tripadvisor but with it's two pools (one on the roof which I know will be shut and one in the basement), central location, the fact that it is less than a year old after being stylishly converted and looks the right side of intimate yet friendly I knew we had a winner. It's called Hotel 1898 and it looks pretty damn cool. I've got to say that I felt pretty special that I was the one allowed to choose it. I think after the amount of web research I did on Las Vegas before we went, they knew I was the best person to track something decent down. I spent most of the day researching this, flights, rooms etc and that ain't a bad way to spend a day. State of trance wasn't brilliant tonight and who would have known that it would be a premonition for the Saturday night.

With a bank holiday looming Friday was pretty quiet. We discussed in the office how I might have a mohican hair cut on Saturday. Every guy should have a crazy haircut before they hit 35 and with only three weeks to go and me working at a non corporate then why not. Hence the decision was made. Others debated it but they aren't attention seeking arses like me so I realised it would be a lone venture. Saturday came with the requisite lay in. I decided against hitting the gym as I didn't want to knacker myself for the evening which I was beginning to really look forward to.

Arrived at my hairdressers and explained what I wanted. Shave my head to a three apart from the middle which wasn't cut at all. Along the edge of the mo' was a tramline to frame it along with two more in the side to break up the expanse. I was also thinking how I might pick out the tramlines with some UV paint later that night. He seemed quite pleased to be doing something different and when he finished I was pleased with it as well. He had combed it together into one point and I think I prefer it to be a little roughed up but it was good. Chatted to his wife which I also always enjoy. She was having some work done on her house and I think it helped for her to rant about how it was going etc to clear some stuff of her chest. I wandered back up to the shops and no one really cared. I guess nowadays it's hard to say what is defined as a crazy haircut. If people don't know you then they don't realise that it's crazy for you. Headed to Bluewater to pick up my bro and with an hour or so to spare had a mooch around the shops. Bluey really is a cool shopping centre, with a great range of shops to meander round.

I was reminded of the price of fashion whilst there. I had a look in River Island and saw this nice pink shirt with cream swirls for just under £30. It was ok but I thought um being that price and in River Island then it's a good chance I'll see others wearing it. I then mossied into Ted Baker where I saw a lovely pink shirt that was £80. Now this was very nice and the price, you hope, would prevent less people wearing it but in reality £80 is the price of a damn good night out. So you have to weigh up do you have a blinding night in average attire or a subdued night in expensive attire.

Ok so we got ready to head out that night. I pulled on my clubbing outfit of black Ellesse combats and a fluoro green adidas t-shirt after applying endless amounts of deodorant. Brother sat me down on a chair in the living room and using a brush painted my tramlines. Two in UV yellow and one in pink. I then sprayed glitter over my hair. Ok this might sound gay or an old fart having a mid-life crisis but I'm a tart and the dance scene is one of the few places when you can go a little whacky, so what the hell.

Raced over to pick up my work colleague who hadn't been clubbing in years and who shared a similar fondness for Armin and then drove to Brixton. Gave her the tour once we got in and I confess that it didn't seem as busy as the hard house nights that I'd been to there. We waited for Armin to start and made sure to hit the dance floor about half an hour before so we were limbered and ready to go. He came on half an hour late which I'm sure wasn't his fault, seemed to play about 5 or 6 of the songs that the previous DJ had and just didn't motivate the crowd. He played too few classics or even tunes that he'd been dropping in recent ASOT's, too many numbers with breakdowns that were slowing down midway before you'd even had a chance to get fired up, too few distinctive tunes and we ended up leaving at about 3:50am. When you are having a good time you don't notice all the sweating, gurning, nomadic, backpack wearing arsewipes that constantly push past you. If however the music isn't delivering, you certainly do notice them and the music has to work even harder to get you out of that mood. It was just so disappointing. I was ready to rip it up like I did at Bournemouth and here was a DJ that can have me dancing in the office when I stay late to hear him on ASOT yet in a huge venue with better lights and sound and he couldn't fire me up. It was even more frustrating as we had dragged along my work colleague, only for Armin not to deliver or for them to see a good example/insight into my world. I did however have a couple of people comment on my hair which was pretty cool.

We went on a round trip to take in the tea hut which she'd never been to and thankfully enjoyed. You might have a poor night but the hut holds the power to pull it back. Eventually got in after dropping everyone home, had a quick bath and gratefully hit my bed.
Sunday was even lazier, heh isn't that bank holiday weekends are meant to be like. Went out that evening wearing my Geek t-shirt, wondering whether it would seem ironic or plain ridiculous bearing in mind my 'crazy' haircut. I might as well have had the thing pulled over my head for I didn't notice any eye contact with anyone. Still mate and I had a nourishing and deep conversation. It strayed close the edge of things we do and don't mention but it was worthwhile and re-affirmed our friendship strength. It also meant we were oblivious to everyone else, which considering it was virtually man-town in there wasn't a bad thing. TI was impressed though when I ordered a drink from the bar and the owner, who I've seen and had drinks with before including one on the stroke of New Years Eve, said 'Arrgh Mr Payne'. I was astonished he remembered my name but he did and it made my day.

Monday was the apartment tidy up that I'd been threatening to do for some time. I borrowed the dyson hoover from the office as the one at home has all the suction of a dying, geriatric asthmatic. Dusted, wiped down, hoovered (with a little shave'n'vac to put the freshness back), threw out old clothing, re-arranged bits and even managed to discard some old videos. All this was completed listening to my nano. Those earphones have really checked out well and despite a mild discomfort when they come off that must last all of 15 seconds I am very pleased with them. I would also keep catching glances of my hair which I've got to say I still really like. It might not suit me but it's different and fresh so why not. While checking out my old video tapes I discovered a couple of the x-men cartoons, including one of my favourite ones which involve the x-men, apocalypse and bishop and cable 'body slide to hq' who both journey back through time to hook up with the x-men to defeat Apocalypse. I looked forward to watching it again after my clean up but the temperamental video machine decided to chew it up which was enough for me to pull that piece of crap out of it's cubby hole and start beating the shit out of it. I launched some hefty punches on the top of it to bend in the metal casing and prevent me from removing the tape as well as smashing the plastic facia into a million pieces with the base of it's matching remote control. Christ it was cathartic. Besides did I really need a video player anymore? A few more kicks to quell my rage and that baby found itself in the bin.

A huge long soak in a ridiculously 'boil your nuts in a bag' hot bath followed which I haven't had for ages. It's funny how sometimes the simple things can really please when you haven't had them for some time. I took in a nice cup of tea, had the melancholy playlist on the nano (which I must provide over on the music section soon) and managed to find a comfortable position which resulted in one foot over the side, the other wedged under the tap and my head resting on the back edge. Bliss.

The contender was really good this night. The two guys that fought seemed really nice guys. Michael and Ebo. They had a lot of respect for each other and a good chunk of experience. It's a shame they hadn't had more show time before because I warmed to them both. They seemed very similar with a wife and two daughters each who looked so much better than some of the trash that these boxers have as girlfriends or wives. Because I liked them both when the fight started I didn't know who to support and hence watched a lot less emotionally than usual. Ebo's work rate was harder and faster and Michael seemed reluctant to work or throw punches. He was clearly three rounds down when he came out for the fourth and rocked Ebo back with a devasting punch. He didn't follow it up immediately as many others do and I thought he had blown his chance. Instead though he patiently waited for another chance to appear which it did about 40 seconds later and he exploded an uppercut on Ebo's chin. The poor guy, it shook him up so bad he actually fell forward onto the canvas. He got up in time for the count but when the ref beckoned him to walk towards him he didn't know where to go and the ref stopped the fight.
I was pleased for Michael for causing a stoppage when that was the only thing that was going to get him through to the next round but was sad to see Ebo go. With it's Hans Zimmer music the shows endings are always well done and this was amazing. Ebo took his loss with grace as did Michael with his win but when his wife told him that she'd seen Ebo's daughter crying (the two mums had gotten very close and become friends in the weeks before the fight) Michael looked visibly upset. He even admitted that he was ashamed for what he'd done and wished that he had never called out Ebo. Maybe it was sentimental and contrived but it tugged the right strings for me and left me feeling quite sombre.

To finish the bank holiday weekend off I didn't win the euromillions lottery. I only like to do it when the jackpot prize goes over £30 million. Big numbers excite me and winning a lot would mean that I could improve the lives of those nearest and dearest to me by an even greater extent. Anyway this last jackpot was £38 million and not only didn't I win, but someone else did. I don't know about you but there is a certain satisfaction when you see that it will rollover again and nobody won. Hey I might not have won but neither did anyone else and I've still got a chance of an even bigger prize next week.

Thanks for tuning in, talk soon.