Mil Millington

If, when you see this shop, your brain doesn't immediately spooner it into 'Kock Ring', then you're a better person than I am. I hope that makes you happy.

Whitby Chains

Whitby Yard

I acknowledge that, had we not taken a photograph of us by the famous yard, Whitby itself would have found it unacceptable.

Whitby Abbey. Wet.

Festival Top Tip Number 2.
If you'd like (and who wouldn't?) the mad woman standing by the Abbey in the sweeping night rain at the Whitby Goth Festival to end up back in your room later... then always have that mad woman in the car with you when you drove up that morning.

In Whitby for the Goth Festival. If you fancy going this weekend, let me give you a serious piece of advice, something I learned the first time we went: dress up. Honestly, if you aren't you will feel *so* self-conscious and awkward.
Go dressed normally and you'll end up panic-buying a frock coat.

Exactly, Daniel. It's these kind of vital points that separate the incompetent professional from the misinformed amateur.

"Did you just go to the toilet?"
"Yes."
"That was quick."
"I've been practising."
All these conversational moments in our house will be lost in time, like tears in rain. [Mil lets loose a dove.] [Possibly a pigeon.]

The AC adaptor on my laptop broke. No power. So, I decided to take a few days being completely computer-free until I get a replacement.
No. Obviously I didn't. Until I get a replacement, I'll carry on using it; having got it working again using a kitchen knife, a hammer, and green electrical tape.

I'd like to publicly lay to rest all these rumours that there's any kind of 'feud' between me and Charli XCX. Can everyone please move on now.

I did a pen! That's right: "!" It didn't break, clog, dry up, or have some fatal issue with the tiny ball at the tip. I didn't lose it or abandon it in a drawer for my great-grandchildren to inherit or leave it in the thigh of a midnight assailant. I started it on 24/04/21, and finished it today. !

I know it's common to miss past times when people would stop to talk to each other in the street, and neighbours were constantly in and out of each other's houses, and families were families and all ate together at the table.
I miss Beyblades.
Yet again, Margret - no, I'm *not*.

[Mil leans forwards and gently takes Tub Debs's hands in his. He speaks softly.] You are afflicted with a sickness.

You are credit to someone's parents.

The dative case. There's simply no excuse for it.

Conkers are great. They're common enough to be available, yet rare enough that you go, 'Oooh - conkers!' They have the mystery of sitting inside a concealing outer shell. They mature pleasingly from soft white to hard mahogany before your eyes. They're tactile. Conkers have never invaded anywhere.

Two Jehovah's Witnesses just rang the doorbell.
They didn't stay long.

Flop into bed at 7.45am due to events. The second I under-duvet, there's the piercing Beep! Beep! Beep! of a lorry reversing outside. This finally stops, and I have 43 sleepable seconds before a series of loud, metallic clangs starts up. Yep: they're unloading the lorry, and erecting scaffolding.

Signs of World
"Beware! Rogue quadrilaterals may strike you from behind in the calf with upending force while you are distracted, bewildered, and alarmed by the impossibility of Welsh spelling."

Desktop PC.

What's worse than discovering you may be the person you secretly fear you might be?
Discovering you may be the person your girlfriend says you are.
Under any piece of furniture: 'Oh, I'd forgotten I dumped that old laptop there.' OK. But to find a *desktop PC* you'd completely forgotten about? Ouch.

You can fly to Rome from Birmingham airport. The flight takes about two and half hours. The flight costs less than the (cheapest possible) price of parking at Birmingham airport for two and a half hours.
This has been today's edition of Everything About This Is Wrong.

The second half of the next sentence is the most unbelievable, but true, thing you'll hear until you next watch any news coverage of anywhere. *I* wanted to live in Germany, we didn't because *my girlfriend wanted to stay in Wolverhampton*.

I absolutely don't do reposts because... erm, because of the unresolved issue of solipsism, or something. But I feel an especial need to spread a little good news today, after that 'Hey! Donald! Call me Daddy!' phone call Trump and Putin had.

Sons of the Forest

If anyone says you can't possibly play Sons of the Forest for fourteen hours a day, you show that person the door. (*You'll* have to do that, of course, as I'm otherwise occupied.)

Past bad: they don't work. They initially feel like they work, but they just don't (if anything, for example, it should be 'coastering' not 'coasting' - "I don't trust Heather, she's almost heathen," is purely bad). But I feel, to the wry, there's some meta amusement flowing from their failure.

Oh, great, Dan - thanks a lot for publicly posting my banking password.

My girlfriend - who's visiting her family home in Germany - phoned me last night to say she's drunk half a bottle of Sekt and is reading old letters sent to her by previous boyfriends ("One of them I can't even remember!").
Just is case you ever wonder what the exact opposite of 'a booty call' is.

3 Gags That Don't Quite Work.
I had a job putting little protective mats under cups, but I felt I was just coasting.
People who mock the idea of a ‘silicon-based life form’ need to look at the sealant in my shower.
I’m weaving a shirt from dental floss. It’s a project I can really get my teeth into.

Yup, didn't get that. Though we absolutely marvellously did get Maureen Lipman. Maureen Lipman is the Maureen Lipman you'd forgotten you needed.

Clever. The Five Guys restaurant¹ warped the table legs, so that you can have a really authentic-feeling 'Eating While Sailing On Roughs Seas' experience.
(¹'Restaurant'. Arf. Not a place I'd choose to go but, "Did I see you coming into Five Guys in Birmingham last night?" *is* *always* hilarious.)

A wall on an outbuilding, near the lake where my girlfriend often swims. But what are those uncountable white dots all over it? Closer inspection reveals either a) the wonders of nature or b) the image in your mind immediately before you wake up screaming tonight.

Con: I have a cold.
Pro: It's gone to my throat, and brought *so* much sexiness along for the ride. Seriously, right now, in a pitch black room, I'd be damn near irresistible, right?
Right?
Yeah... you know I'm right.