26 January 2017 (Thursday) - The Fags Mystery

I slept for a few hours last night; I would have slept better had the puppy not kept mounting commando raids on me.
Over brekkie I watched more “Darling Buds of May”; I kept wondering if I should send a formal apology to Catherine Zeta-Jones. At the time when the show was first broadcast I maintained she was only a celebrity for getting her tits out, but on finally watching the show I can see she’s actually a rather good actress.
Today’s episode also featured Denis Lill; an actor who I first noticed in my favourite show “Survivors” and consequently seems to have had bit parts in pretty much every TV show of the last thirty years. It also featured “Bernard” from “Yes Minister” playing an alcoholic ventriloquist.

I was pleased to see no ice of the car; I was mystified to find a packet of fags on the passenger seat. Where had they come from?
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing Dick Van Dyke about the recent death of Mary Tyler Moore. She died yesterday; Danny Kaye of “Allo Allo” died a day or so ago. Last year social media was alive with crocodile tears every time a celebrity croaked. This year no one cares.
Dick Van Dyke was being ribbed about his appalling cockney accents in films in the 1960s and 1970s. He laughed; he admitted his cockney accent in those films was awful. He also said that not one person he worked with at the time said a word about it; had they done so he would have found out how cockeys really speak.
There was also the shocking news that one out of five UK children live in poverty. I’ve read so many posts on social media recently lambasting socialist ideals and saying how the country is so much better under a Conservative government… clearly not better for everyone.

I made good time on my way to work today. Once there I got talking with colleagues; it turned out that one of the chaps with whom I work actually used the website I designed for trainees a couple of years ago. I was pleased about that.
I also got my payslip. I’ve only been there four days and I got paid. And I didn’t pay a penny in tax. Knowing that the tax man always gets his bit I queried this and was told that according to my tax code I don’t get taxed on the first thousand pounds I earn in any job I start (regardless of how much I’ve earned in the rest of the financial year). The nice lady ion the payroll department was crystal clear on the matter; I could start another new job next Monday and the first thousand pounds would be tax-free.
I’m taking this to be a little bonus.

If only I didn’t feel so grim. I rarely get colds, but when I do, I suffer…

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