Day 22: still no sign of Captain Morgan. Noel stepped in to take the hot seat, while he's resting his ribs (moaning that the pain was taking all the fun out of the painkillers). But he was in fine form, still trying to set up his patented "Noel Gallagher pet-naming service" to capitalise on his unique "gift" for naming animals. To test his prowess, I once showed him a picture of a ladybird which he duly christened "Spot" and another of a wild boar who he left saddled with the name "Boss".....hmmm.
Still Noel seemed happy enough with his requested rider of soft porn and pot noodle (ahhh... every man's basic needs satisfied). Russell's basic needs have always seemed to be a bit more far reaching: resolving the revolution, reconnecting to a higher form of reasoning and retaking his A-levels in a bubbling hot-tub. It would be interesting to see them both in a sitcom though, especially any episode where Noel tries to rename Morrisey!
Excuse the Jacuzzi
Every path that claims to be eternal is in reality a circle,
To the distressed damsels across the land,
A little hot-tub won't hurt you,
Check the X-files of naming pet crimes,
The truth is out there, so expect lies,
If we reject styles based on sex and crimes,
We'd have less razzle and more noodle to infect minds,
Farms of fussed pots,
Sarah and Katie's love lost,
Amidst the chapsticks and cracked ribs,
For every slapstick, there awaits a cross,
Beyond the collapsing dollars and pounds,
The back of the cab's still gaining ground,
But where there's a will, there's a wheel,
and sometimes a goose or penguin to be found!