Sieve-like and fuckwitted

I've just read Phill's blog. Read the first part here. After reading that I thought "Phill you are a cock - what on Earth have you agreed to do with t'wife on the very night Ingurland get to win on penalties in the quarter final of Euro 2012 against the Eyetallians?"

I go get B, I say "Read this - what has the idiot gone and done? Now we won't be able to shout at the TV together". B reads it, looks at me and says "It's not the quiz, is it?" The penny didn't so much drop as become a thing with the weight and density of a neutron star as it plummeted through the Earth's crust with a grim and terminal velocity.

The only thing I can say in my defence is that although going to The Adelaide pub quiz on a Sunday was briefly discussed last week, and I do now recall saying I was up for it, actual dates were not mentioned and nothing was definitely decided. Mrs P obviously thinks otherwise! I will be in the doghouse when I tell them I'm not going...ho-hum.

Phill and me are idiots who have memories that are indeed sieve-like and fuckwitted. Who are you again?....
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Had a rather nice curry last night in the Imperial Raj on Kettering Road. A chicken thing with loads of fenugreek. This morning I discover that an excess of the pungent green herb does not particularly agree with me. Oh well, it was scrummy at the time.
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Perambulation exclamation #356:
Walking to work the other week it was really tipping it down, so I togged up for the occasion with waterproof jacket and umbrella. About ten yards in front of me were two young teen schoolgirls. Both had hoodies over their uniforms, and being hoodies as the name suggest, had hoods. Neither had their hoods up, both looked like they were an inch from drowning in the open air. I don't understand kids, someone please explain.