The Sun Never Shines On The Tube. NEVER!

Sunglasses worn on the tube has to be one of the most irritating sights in all of Christendom! Spotted six such cretins on today’s journey and not a white stick in sight (there were two fools with un-ironic rock star pretensions in my carriage alone). We are underground! For the entire duration!! The nocturnal subterranean world does not require any additional shading…it’s plenty dingy as it is!?!

Admittedly the lighting is a little harsh on the tube itself – I'm sure the Guantanamo detention centre must use the very same light bulb supplier. However only Stevie Wonder (& friends) should be permitted to be seen in sunnies down here. And even an undisputed icon such as Mr Wonder would have the good grace not to wear his accessorized with an air of woefully miss-placed smugness!

Bad enough to push them atop your head like some Sloaney headband, but to actually proudly sport them with brazen bravado makes me want to commit acts of random violence. Chiefly to their appalling sunglasses!?!

Mostly they are of the Wayfarer and Aviator variety, typically coupled with a pair of espadrilles and an ironic trouser turn-up, so you can probably deduce what type we are talking here. However there was one Marilyn Manson-wannabe whose transgression I'll permit, purely on the grounds that his sunglasses were at least covering the majority of his face, so in turn doing a major service to society...

Boat drinks to the naked eye!

Last Night's Fireworks at Brockwell Park...

For reasons I am completely at a loss to explain (and exceedingly annoyed about!), Blogger has removed its video function, so I am unable to present the footage I loving shot last night (i.e. pointed my shaky Sony at...). The fireworks were moved this year from Clapham Common to Brockwell Park, to celebrate the bicentenary of the Grade II listed Brockwell Hall, and the location change certainly seemed to have deterred the crowds, which was just dandy with me! No stampeding hordes descending on Clapham and rendering the entire postcode a no-go zone. Apparently the festivities kicked off at 4pm, but we rocked up about 10 seconds before they lit the fuse on the first firework at 8 o’clock and then promptly exited as soon as the last bombette had faded in the firmament – happy in the knowledge that my council tax has been well spent for another year.

Boat Drinks Brockwell!

The Great (Guinea) Escape...

I love the idea that this tufted twosome have hatched the great escape and are currently scurrying off into the sunset. Fur-clad versions of Thelma & Louise, who have said ‘so long’ to the hutch and are heading for far greener pastures. Or maybe even back to Guinea! And yes, I do know they don’t actually hail from Guinea, before any members of the British Cavy Council (where genuine G Pig fanciers flock - check it out, it exists!) start bombarding me. However I hadn’t realised that HRH Elizabeth mark 1 had been a proud owner of one...

Anyway, enough of ‘pets of the rich & famous’. I'm sure there are some grief-stricken youngsters who are desperately missing their rotund rodents, but I'm not sure I could bring myself to "capture" the errant cavia porcellus as instructed; partly because I am far too carried away with the notion that they are a latter day Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Pig.

But mostly because I am not exactly warming to the slightly dictatorial tone of this ‘Lost’ poster. Where are the pictures of weeping kids? Photos of the AWOL pair?? The heart-felt pleas for their safe return??? They don’t even bother mentioning how much they miss them!?! I’m starting to suspect that there is more of a touch Kommandant von Luger about the author of this sign. I mean for all I know, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot could have sprung themselves from some animal testing lab, secreted away in the backstreets of Balham. They’re not called guinea pigs for nothing!

Putting all that aside, the cynic in me fears that their owners may want check with the Fox family at number 43...

Boat drinks Bonnie & Cavy Clyde!