I bought my Mother's Day present today; some nice ear rings. Some nice, expensive, ear rings. I've never really understood jewelry. Mum likes it though. For me it's in the same sort of league as any other body decoration, like tattoos or a bone through the nose or whatever.
I've particularly never understood tattoos! What's the deal with that? Unless they're one which is going to help you win an oscar like Helen Mirrens, why bother with it? Oh dear, the idiot conspiracy theorist in me is spouting out nonsense again. I watched the film she was in, The Queen, and it was sh#t. Here's my review at the time. How that won an Oscar I do not know. Unless you follow the tinfoil hat brigade off on the notion that her odd tattoo choices played well somewhere. I've said it before, I'll say it agian, it'd be fun to be a mason. Why don't they ask me to be one? I'd be good at it.
Perhaps instead we should form our own secret society, on the back of this blog. The comments section is cooking at the moment, it's slowly turning into a sort of community. The next step must surely be covert world domination. We'll call it something mystical like, The Secret Ones. Then we can have secret meetings. In fact the meetings themselves can be so secret that not even those in attendance will know where or when they are taking place. They don't even have to be there to be part of the secret club. In fact it's so secret it doesn't even exist.
Yeah! That's it, you're a member of my secret club, just by reading this. Actually, no you're not. Or, in fact, yes you are. Or are you? I can't say. It's a secret. So f#ck off. Or rather, don't, yeah. Or no. This bit is a secret message. Actually, no it's not. This bit is: this bit here, which doesn't actually say anything. Or does it?