Monday 29 September 2008

Just an observation. . .

At the Astrological Association's conference last weekend, I observed Neil Spencer fussing over his food. Never one to miss an opportunity (having been a formal journalist myself), I sauntered over to Neil's table and threw myself at his feet for this photo. Curiously, he made this odd gesture at Nick Campion who was sitting behind him. I love Neil and we go waaaaaay back to "Gone With the Wind" (OK, "True as the Stars Above") and the Club of 27 (which has been resurrected for non-astrologers at Camden Market--but let it be known: the astrologers got there first). Neil presented Kurt Cobain and I presented Janis Joplin at the Lodge.
Oh god, I just realised I am clutching yet another pint of the aqua vitae. . .
Here comes a few Neptune jokes to celebrate. . .all those EMPTY BOTTLES of wine on his table!
6 stages of inebriation:
Jocose
Verbose
Bellicose
Morose
Lachrymose
Comotose
A planetary guide to wines: (this one written by moi)
The sun: Warm, self brewed and when you drink it, everyone notices you.
The Moon: A family label, makes you reflective and, usually, tearful about the past
Mercury: very light and easy to drink, imbibe and you reveal every secret and morsel of gossip you have been carefully containing your whole life. Good thing it makes you fast on your feet. . .
Venus: a sweet wine, usually taken as a dessert. Makes you feel amorous and attractive to the opposite sex
Mars: slightly spicy and gives you the horn. Then makes you want to fight everyone for the object of your affection
Jupiter: a full bodied, foreign wine, usually quite expensive. Typically used during Communion
Saturn: Bitter or sour taste--usually because your great aunt has been hoarding it since the Crimean War. Gives you one hell of a hangover.
Uranus: difficult to describe as it's a one-off. Makes you give a rebel yell. Several times.
Neptune: You don't remember what this tastes like. In fact you don't remember much of anything that night.
Pluto: A few sips of this and nothing is the same again. . .

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