Monday, 6 February 2012


Spam. *

When did it gain a double meaning? Monty Pythons 'Flying Circus' can be accredited with coining it's second meaning, around 1969. I would consider it slang. Which I usually despise but somehow 'spam' has escaped the grammar net.

It's rare that I despise the intended meaning but plump for it's younger sibling. Literary thrills.

Facing the facts, there is so much spam (literally in both cases). I wake up each morning with 27 e-mails I've unsubscribed from. Worming their way into my life.

People on the street asking for aid, spam.
Adverts for loans (APR 1000% naturally), spam.
Mindless chat with an insignificant individual, spam.
DM's from fake Twitter accounts, spam.
Jeremy Kyle, spam.

Apparently 7 million people will call in sick today. I've no need as I've escaped the rat-race for a week and today my agenda is Twitter scouring, a dentist appointment and dissuading my mother from a second bottle of wine, for she is not on holiday.

Oh & re-jigging priorities. Ostriches have the right idea; sand, head, bury.

On a lighter, subject related, note, I may have finally cajoled Mother into internet dating. The profiles are hilarious. Many males from 45-55 descibe themselves as 'earthy'. What in the world does that mean? Eco-warriors? Gardening enthusiasts? Or plain Neanderthals? I'm supervising the process, to ensure spamming is at a minimum. It's an enjoyable project.

Tweet, tweet.

* there's a museum. A Spam museum. Man alive.

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