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Sorry about the above ^^^. It's all [livejournal.com profile] fracture242's fault. I've had bloody Bodycount in the House going through my head ever since something on her journal yesterday set it off.

There is something so gloriously silly about that song, though, that you really have to forgive Ice T, despite it all: I particularly like the introducing-the-band bit in the middle, and that line 'And back here on the bass is my main motherfucker named Moose Man!'. Right up to the word 'named' that's fine and thoroughly rock'n'roll, but he just so utterly loses it as soon as he starts talking about Moose Man. I mean ghetto names are all very well and no-one could hope to be more hip to that sort of thing than am I, but what on earth possessed anyone to think that Moose was a good idea? Mm, moose. If you ask me, Ice T should make sure he gets himself a less ludicrously soubriqueted main motherfucker if he wants to be taken at all seriously. Which, to be fair, I suspect that he doesn't. Isn't he playing a cop in some tv series nowadays? Thus forever laying to rest the nonsense that Americans don't get irony.

Oo, though, talking of really laboured attempts to get song titles into LJ posts, for some reason this morning as I awoke my first thought was how fantastic it would be if Dr Clegg the Elder were to attend Pride and then (perish the thought!) get enormously drunk. Because when it was written up on LJ there would never be a better reason to have 'Beers, [livejournal.com profile] steers and Queers' as the title! I hasten to add that it only seemed funny and like a splendid idea whilst I was still very much Lethe-wards sunk and that I mention it solely to give you all an insight into the rather worrying state of my subconscious in the fond hope that you'll then have sympathy and that sort of thing and I'll be able to get away with murder, ha-ha! Oh, and for anyone that doesn't know fifteen-year-old Revolting Cocks songs, this whole paragraph isn't going to make an enormous amount of sense. Honestly, Simon, what crack are you on today?

Ye-es, so, moving on...

What I was actually meaning to post about was the fact that I've so far failed to hold a flat-warming, despite moving in in (oops) January! The flat is, well, on the bijou side, so, much as I'd like to have everyone along at once and throw a wild revolting debauch that would put the worst excesses of the later Roman republic to shame (and believe me, I really would like that: as it happens I'm reading a biography of the Earl of Rochester at the moment and it keeps making me want to be Restoration and Repulsive), unfortunately it makes a lot more sense if I go for the altogether more pedestrian and middle-class succession-of-witty-little-dinner-parties option.

Anyway, the nub of my gist is that invitations shall shortly be issuing forth, BUT anyone who does not immediately receive one should not assume thereby that they are unloved and malodorous and that I don't even read their facebook status updates. Whilst it would, admittedly, be quite fun in an impish sort of way to do the A-list, then B-list, then C-list and so on approach, just so everyone knows where they stand, what I would actually genuinely quite like to have a stab at is engineering, you know, interesting and diverse sorts of gatherings with people who don't necessarily know each other, the better to promote conversation and all that sort of nonsense. Sounds like a recipe for a hideous disaster or a series of hideous disasters, I hear you say, and you may well be right, but nonetheless I intend to give it a go before calling it off in utter defeat and just inviting people who like each other round. The Balaclava spirit and all that...

But yes, so, what I'm really saying is, I'll hopefully be able to have you all over to see the new place fairly soon, but please don't take umbrage and de-friend me when you see people putting things on their LJ like 'Went to Simon's last night and had honestly the most enjoyable three hours of my life. I take pity on anyone who wasn't there.' when you haven't yourself been invited. You all shall make it over at some point! Unless you're ghastly, but that of course won't be the case because I don't have people like that on my friends list, no sirree.

Whilst I'm here, though, two last points: (a) given that Americans call petrol 'gas', what do they call gas? and (b) is it very very horrible of me to think that The Guardian's poll on whether Mrs Thatcher should receive a state funeral was really lacking a 'The sooner the better' option?
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