Milky Pumps

Just a quick to inform you of possibly one of the greatest business models I have ever read.

Over in the British province known as the USA, some clever bastard has combined two of my greatest loves. Tits and coffee. There is actually a coffee shop over in America where all the baristas (sp?) are wearing either swim or underwear.

Of course the concept has been met with huge controversy (although I think the irony is that those stirring the controversy probably spat out there coffee after reading this).

I, of course, would embrace the idea of this being opened over here as a British franchise (mainly because I have a Y in my chromosome), however I probably wouldn't like to order a Frapachino with cream in there as in this context is does sound like pure smut.

If you don't believe me here's one of the news articles about it:

http://www.thenewstribune.com/news/local/story/368860.html

Just a quickie...

Right, well its late and I've just got back from work but I just wanted to give a little heads up to people on the deodourant front.

There is this new chocolate deodourant that Lynx have just bought out. If you don't know its the one where the advert is saying 'if you spray this on yourself, girls will literally tear you apart limb by limb'. Although the cannibalism wasn't the reason I put it on, simply I ran out of my own brand so used my brothers Lynx instead.

And it burned like a motherfucker. There is no dignity in trying to wash off freshly sprayed on deodourant while he stinging pain causes your eyes to swell up so you end up looking like a demented mace victim.

Thats all I really had to say. Nothing much, just thought that others might get a kick out of my pain.

Warning: May contain peril

Some scallies may tell you that working for a reputable radio station in the heart of London is one bloody great laugh. It is an endless menagerie of good times and heart-felt memories. Well they're bloody liars, and here's why:

Today I was working with fellow XFM minions, Brendan and Temoor, at the Astoria covering the Black Keys gig. It was the usual flyering and sign-ups that usually plague the shift of the street teamer. But as most will know the Astoria has a single-laned street next to it which is used to relieve the traffic coming out of Soho Square, and as we pretty much have to stand in that street to do our jobs, we would constantly have to move right up to the barrier to avoid joining the cyclists most of the cars are dragging around.

Anyway about half an hour into our shift and we see a fire-engine heading down the road (at full throttle I may add), so we made an unconscious decision the move to the other side of the road. Then as the fire-engine came hurtling towards us, it jumped the kerb and headed straight for me. It actually was going to hit me. I felt my life flash before my eyes (which as it turns out reminded me that I must get out more) as I saw my assassin through the windscreen. The dark and emptiness in his eyes let me know that he was not human, but a cold hard killer bent on mowing down innocent bystanders (or he was just tired).

But at the last second I leapt out of the way. Possibly yelping as I did so but as the siren was on, no-one had seemed to hear it. However what they did hear was the cursing I gave the driver as he was driving off in a sort of haven't-got-the-balls-to-s

ay-it-to-his-face kind of way.

I survived this time but always keep one eye over your shoulder because you never know when Fireman Slam is coming for you.