There's a boring kind of ribbed rubber?

I recently bought a ribbed rubber product that you use in bed but is totally fucking boring: a hot water bottle to soothe my bad back! I didn't even know where you bought hot water bottles. They were always something you just had in the family home, it took a bit of research to realize that they, like other nocturnal ribbed rubber products, are sold in chemists. This week has thrown up a few examples of old-man Jimmny's advancing years. I was a 30th party last Saturday that included a jaunt to one of Norwich's premier nightspots. While in a taxi on Prince of Wales road (Norwich's very own Damnation Alley) I remarked that that particular street's scantily clad female denizens should put on jumpers or something because they'll catch a nasty cold. The taxi driver was bemused (it's a novelty to get a Norwich taxi driver that actually talks), and said I was showing my age by being more concerned about their health than ogling them, which is the local custom, I suppose, of this clacking, squawking crazy slice-of-hell street. I remarked to V at work last week that when we're all senile in nursing homes, the only thing we'll be able to remember is the 'crazy frog' ring tone. I imagined old-folks sitting aroung with blankets and hot water bottles all going 'da ding ding ding daaaaadadaaa' etc. She found this a depressing thought, but I topped it this week by saying only three things happen to couples: they either get married, break up or one of them dies.

I'm hoping working on Wonder Woman will create more cheerful thoughts! I'm cheering up already though, the postman's been and thanks to dirt cheap dvds from ebay and amazon, I have acquired some of my favorite films. Indeed, it only takes a we bit of arty perversion and fetishistic costumes to turn frowns upside down chez Homunculus.