Laugh Track

Today I have mostly been trying to learn a piece of software Traktor, which I will be using to DJ at my little brothers wedding on Saturday, and trying to learn my Best Man's Speech, which I'll be using to reduce the four families to tears of joy and laughter at my little brother's wedding on Saturday.

Well, we shall see about that. I have been rehearsing it alone with an online stopclock, and in such a context there are an awful lot of awkward silences. I wonder if there's a laugh track app out there I could use. Not that I have a phone. My replacement HTC One X turned out to be a defective over-sensitive mardy pants into which one couldn't even type a phone number, so I had to send it back.

Never mind that though. In other Big Ass News, we are off to see The Firstborn, AKA The Savior Of Mankind at 3, via the miracle of Hospital Scanning Technology. It's our final scan! I wonder if the little rascal's gonna be upside down again. He was last time, and the nurse made Charlotte jump up and down to try and get him in the correct position but he was having none of it, so she was sent down to the cafe to eat cake and drink coffee, whihc worked, amazingly enough, and we were able to acertain that he had the right ammount of heads and stuff.

Now, I say "he", but we don't actually know the sex, and we're going to leave it to be a surprise, but it seems rude to reffer to The Saviour Of Mankind as "it", and anyway, I think he's a boy, so there.

"By the way, all babies have massive balls, so don't get too excited," warned Charlotte yesterday. I posted it on Twitter. "Did she have massive balls too?" quipped some wag. Oh the hilarity.

That's me up top, by the way. "You were so ugly we had to feed you with a catapult," said my Dad, recently. What a meanerd. I won't say things like that to my son, oh no. And I won't ground him and bar him from going to the school disco for eating ice cream topping out of the bottle either. I remember promising myself at the time. "When I have kids I will never do a horrible stupid thing like that!" I cried aloud in my bedroom. That boy made a lot of promises like that. Well, I haven't let him down yet and I'm not about to start. Ale jaca est.



After a nice little rest, I am back in London with a pink pack of eyeballs on my case. That shit looked nice on IE, but fucked up Mozilla. I don't know what it was doing to Macs. So he will live to the right. Read a bunch of Hilaire Belloc's The History Of England Vol XI, From The First Invasion By The Romans To The Ascension Of King George The Fifth on the train. I now realise that we are living in an oligarchy. Well, a strange, new fangled sort of oligarchy masked as a democracy. With a bit of a monarchy. But it is an oligarchy, nonetheless.

This book was published in 1915, and, interestingly, predicted that Russia would do what America has. The author is also in favour of true aristocracy, and I can see his point.