Recent cost-reduced army exercises on Salisbury Plain must have sent a shock wave that caused my humane mouse trap to close with no mouse inside. I rang the Annoyed By Bombs? army hotline but they weren’t interested. Oddly, they asked for the coordinates of my house. They suggested the mouse had got in and out without being caught. This is a mouse with a penchant for plastic pipe lagging and it can make a noise at 4am that sounds like concrete slabs being dropped. Names suggested: Harry Houdini, Plastic Bertrand. All that shredded plastic should have killed him by now or caused a sex change. I won’t be calling on the army to sort it out. Pretty soon I hope to take Plastic B. on a long journey in a fast car and like Le Carre in Smiley’s People, I will arrive at the Salisbury Plain army checkpoint and demand a mouse swap.
Then the electrician spent ages tracing a loose neutral wire that had caused the outside lights to fail. I was blaming the tree people. He thought I was blaming him. I was blaming the army. It’s a blame game. Speaking of blame, I’m keeping away from the news this week. Ozzy Osborne and the Cutbacks etc. He reminds me of Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham with that exaggerated sideways “Gah!” of spiteful mocking disdain when jeered in the house. Apart from the politics, is he really personally unpleasant or have standards dropped? I’m sure the media are holding back on his unfortunate personality until the time is right, ie when Cameron wants to blame his nearest rival for the looming fuck up and endless Antiques Roadshows from the Ark Royal.
My novel progresses slowly. It’s not the oddest thing I’ve written. Not yet anyway. Since the recent success with The New Flesh, I feel a sudden pressure to write odd but that’s not how it works. Back in May 09, the Guardian leaked some Barclays internal memos that described the goings-on of those juvenile young bucks in the financial world. Some of those details made it into the story I’m getting published. How weird is that?