Can making ice cream lead to an orgasm? – And other thoughts on leaving home

We’re moving home this week.

As we all know this experience is supposed to be the third worst after bereavement and divorce, but my mood has been lightened today by a few glimpses 0f lunacy.

First I saw across the road outside the Bluebird Cafe a sign about some ice cream made in Purbeck, Dorset. Apparently it is “made passionately”.

What utter bollocks. Do they all faint and have orgasms as they do their churning, or whatever? If you feel like that when making ice cream what the hell do you do when you make love?

Another giddy moment came when I picked up a just-used copy of the News of the World, a comic masquerading as a newspaper, formerly edited by Cameron’s just-resigned Head of Half Truths and Misrepresentation, Andy Coulson.

Do you really expect me to believe that as the editor he never knew about the phone tapping that was going on? That he never asked, “So where did this juicy story come from?” Pull the other one – it’s got bells on it.

The paper was full of good stuff, though. There were pictures of “Lilo” not wearing very much. I wonder how it feels to be named after an inflatable mattress. Then there were pictures of Katy Price recovering from her hilarious fake marriage by rubbing her tits all over polo players in a bar somewhere.

I do admire her. She has achieved a great deal on the basis of nothing but an investment in silicone and a genius for publicity. I feel she is the latest in the long line of wonderful ladies typified by Nell Gwynn and Emma Hamilton who did the best with what they had.

Mind you, she’s had to do it the hard way. Nell was fucked by Charles 11; Emma had Nelson. She’s had Peter Andre and that other loser. What a sad decline.

The high spot of my yesterday was being interviewed in Kensington High Street by what I think was a student TV channel, asking me what I thought of the enquiry into the shit Blair and his lies about Iraq. It is a disgrace and a negation of freedom that we are not allowed to hear what Blair and Bush said to each other. I imagine that in the end the U.S. media which are not so trammelled will come up with the truth.

Which reminds me: I see Gordon Brown is kicking up a fuss about his phone having been taped. I feel sorry for the poor bugger who did it; he probably found it hard to stay awake.

That’s enough from me. Must get back to packing. I am no help at all, really.