High, a lie


Regular readers will know that I have a thing for UK Big Brother. The celebrity version is currently screening, and it’s turned out to be one of the best CBBs ever. I’m not sure why, but at least for me, one of the highlights was seeing Lionel Blair swearing like a mofo.

Anyway, here’s a clip of “controversial” (or at least nutty) Daily Mail columnist Liz Jones. The back story – fellow housemate Luisa has been given a secret task to make Liz laugh, while Liz has secretly been told that she must not laugh. So while Luisa tries to bring on the lolz, Liz launches into a monologue of such misery and deadpan wit that it would make Morrissey look like a paragon of self-esteem.

Oh hai

For a while I’ve had this irrational fear of the sport of jal alai. I think it’s because the players have a basket strapped to their right hand, looking like a horror-film serial killer inspired by the fiddler crab.

Anyway, I thought it was a bit silly being fearful of jai alai, so I set about doing some exposure therapy, in the form of watching a bunch of videos. There was a 1988 promo video about the sport in America, a more recent short Spanish-language documentary about the old codgers who go along to watch games in Miami, a 1994 game featuring two Spanish legends.

By that stage I was feeling pretty relaxed about jai alai. But then I went too far. Feeling overly confident, I watched a video of a guy exploring an abandoned fronton (playing venue, and there’s just something so creepy about “abandoned fronton”). So there’s this guy wandering around a giant arena in the dark, with only a weak LED torch for illumination. And then there are the strange noises. It was terrifying, and it instantly vaporised all my happy feelings about jai alai.


By the way, jai alai features in the opening titles of the Miami Vice TV show, one of the many icons of Miami that’s jam-packed into the minute-long sequence. I only just realised it was jai alai – I’d previously thought it was baseball, or something like that. It still creeps me out, though.


2 thoughts on “High, a lie”

  1. Vienetta Bottom sounds first-rate and quite alluring. Why aren’t we naming more body shapes after desserts?

    Also, the secret to serenity is surely immunity to the psychic emanations of one’s pets. I couldn’t cope if my lot were successful in sending me messages about cheese and kibble all day.

    1. Mm, I’m pretty sure that Minn-Minnz’s psychic messages would just be complaints that the humans won’t open the shower door so she could have a drink at 4am.

      Also: Trumpet tits.

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