Midget Jones’ Diary

A WHOLE BOTTLE. Sorry if anyone thought I’d been poisoned, I just never got the chance to update.

But more of that later. Because it’s time for… ANOTHER MYSTERY SERVICE STATION! Unfortunately I haven’t been able to identify this one yet, but I can tell you that it’s somewhere on the route from Brighton to London. Similarly to my other Mystery Service Station, I remember very little of what happened thanks to having been unconscious in a Ford Transit for half an hour.

I do remember this, however: I bought a litre of gin. At two in the morning. I didn’t really understand the arse-clenchingly massive significance until the next morning when I resurfaced to find an unopened bottle of gin on my floor. I wish I could find out more information, as clearly the number of opportunities to buy spirits on Britain’s roads late at night is criminally small. We’re so far behind the rest of the continent in some ways.

The Mystery Service Station earns itself a well-deserved five unwaxed lemons out of five.

Now, back to the rancid champagne. It was a bottle of vintage cava, so not technically champagne, but it cost me an arm and a leg at the time so I thought I’d save it for a special occasion. Three years later, and I decided amongst myself that Tuesday the 21st of November was a suitably noteworthy day to enjoy it.

Now, I’m no Jilly Goolden, but it tasted a little odd to me. I gave it the benefit of the doubt though, because vintage champagne and I are not the most regular of friends. As with all things, after the first glass it started to taste alright.

So there we go then, two for one! Any news on the location of the illegal booze service station will be added as I find it. Any donations of vintage champagne are encouraged.

How much rancid champagne can one man tolerate?

Answer in just a few hours!

1. She has the same name as me. This is very important, as I’m a total narcissist. If you don’t believe me, just count the number of times I refer to myself throughout this blog. It’s not pretty. Anyway, it does make it easy to remember.
2. She can swim faster than me.
3. Her favourite All Saint is Melanie, “the one with the horse face.”
4. She accuses me of staring at her roots, which I think is rubbish as I never notice things like that. I’m more concerned that I may focus on people’s eyebrows rather than their eyes. I may need some more practise.
5. She can swim faster than Mr T. riding a dolphin.
6. The roof next to the clock at Slough train station looks like a robotic owl. You may notice that this isn’t really related, but it totally freaked me out just now.

So, in summary, NO I’M NOT BUYING YOU A HAT.

I remember this moment very clearly. I was with a friend of mine in Sainsbury’s, buying supplies for a birthday party that afternoon. I bought a bottle of Miller gin, twenty-four cans of tonic and six limes*

We’d just been listening to the Beastie Boys’ song Intergalactic in my car. As I was wandering around the aisles in search of cheap snacks it dawned on me I’d been singing “Another dimension, another dimension, another dimension” on constant loop in a crazy robot voice. Whilst pointing out my behaviour, my friend said that he’d always thought the words had been “Comin’ to getcha, I’m comin’ to getcha”. I think he may be suffering the early stages of paranoia**

It turns out that last night he thought he could hear people whispering the lyrics to ‘Stairway to Heaven’ behind his sofa. He clearly isn’t drinking enough gin, because I never hear these coded warnings in songs. I’m actually a bit jealous. Anyway, I hope he doesn’t read this because I’m planning on adding subliminal messages on to all the tapes in my car. With a bit of luck, the next post I write may be as the charismatic leader of a fledgling religious cult. Wish me luck!

* When I worked for a well-known off-license chain, they sent the promotional material through for the new Doritos ‘Hint of Lime’ flavour crisps. Some dyslexic/bored graphic designer had managed to get a tag proofed and printed and sent to hundreds of stores with the words ‘Hint of Lamb’ emblazoned across it.

** There may have been ‘outside influences’ involved.