All Apologies II

mrs househusbandnot said I was a little close to the mark about lesbians yesterday (Man, she should have seen what I was going to write.) So apologies to any lesbians who do actually just go to the pool to swim rather than pick women up. Apologies also to any gay men who were offended by my remarks in the same post about being cruisey in the changing rooms.

And sorry to the old bloke for being ageist about the fact that his swimming is so slow. Go get 'em old timer. And sorry also to the posh girl who I am sure is very nice in her own posh no-concept-of-less-posh-people's-personal-space kind of way. (Actually, mrs househusbandnot is really scared of posh women, and like the horses that they look like they know she is terrified of them too. A few months ago at a restaurant with a buffet, this really posh old bird marched across the entire restaurant and bellowed "Well go on girl. Get your food" at her.)

Actually while we are on the apologies stuff, sorry also to Hawaiians who I may have portrayed as a little out of touch with the real world. And real house husbands for being rude about them being a bit too organised and anal (man, there I go again with the anti-gay stuff), and other bloggers for saying that they write rubbish about their vacations and how spritely their granny still is, and bees for implying that they are not as frightening as sharks. Jeez, it there anyone I haven't offended in the 30 odd posts I've done so far? And someone was saying the other day that househusbandnot read like anything they would read in The Daily Telegraph.

I'm not apologising to Will Self or Guy Ritchie (and I can't be bothered to go back and find the links for where I dissed them either.) They both deserve anything they get, most of all Will Self for his column in The Evening Standard. Pointless, pointless, self-satisfied, lazy rubbish. (Maybe he could take over househusbandnot while I am away next week?) And I don't take back my opinions about the Edinburgh Festival despite being there next week, where I will citizen's arrest anyone with a trombone for crimes against music and or comedy.

Actually this apologising thing doesn't really work for me because...well because I don't really mean it. But I guess I will regret saying that when I am stung towards death by Hawaiian bees, having failed to beat them off because I am exhausted by a bout of arm wrestling with lesbians in an Edinburgh pub, and having ignored a house husband's advice about always travelling with a decent insect repellent. And as I lie dying in a Scottish gutter, Will Self and bloggers alike will ignore me as they hurry to get to the evening performance by 32 Austrian tuba players of their interpretation of The Swimming Pool Library. Ahh, death where is thy sting?.