Dynargh dhe'n Blogofrob

Tuesday 3rd January 2006

I was planning to break my lengthy silence with a riveting travelogue, told with the kind of witty self-deprecation that would make Michael Palin and Clive James give up and go home without so much as an ironic gurn at the camera. Unfortunately, that's proved difficult. Two reasons: for a start, instead of effortlessly conjuring up tales to rival those of Patrick Leigh-Fermor, over the "festive period" I remained slumped in an armchair eating Stilton and trying to work out which televised fragrance advertisement was the most pretentious. Secondly, "witty self-deprecation" and doing anything "effortlessly" do not come naturally (is that tautologous?). Oh, and my laptop's fucked, but that's another story.

So as the perfume ads give way for chirpy chav-friendly invitations to furniture warehouse sales, I'm back at work. No time to do my foreign adventures justice. But just enough time to comment on the spooky goings on in my neighbourhood.

Macrobiotic drudge Chris Martin and his marginally more interesting wife, Gwyneth Paltrow, have decided that their house is full of bad energy. Apparently, this is to blame for Gwyneth's difficult second pregnancy (I suspect it's more to do with eating seeds and drinking fucking Yakult all the time). The rumours are that they're getting some followers of Kabbalah in to do some chanting and scare away the ghosts.

I happen to live opposite the Paltrow-Martins. The only bad energy I've sensed in the area is the bloody prices charged by the gas supplier. OK, so standing staring at their house for hours on end, tapping gently on their windows and flinging excrement into their front yard in the middle of the night isn't the kind of thing that's going convince Mr and Mrs P-M that the neighbourhood is bubbling with good energy. And perhaps it was wrong to repeatedly order a Meat Feast Pizza on their behalf. But they still live in a massive 3.5m pound town house in Belsize Park. It's gated off from the rest of the street and covered in CCTV cameras. If you can't get good energy in that haven of luxury, getting a handful of Kabbalists to chant dreary psalms in the sitting room is unlikely to make a difference. Besides, if Chris Martin spends time rehearsing at home, any ghost loitering in the airing cupboard is going to be familiar with dirgy chanting.

I think the only way to ensure good energy is returned to their house is for them to invite all their neighbours around for a massive celeb-heavy party. For the avoidance of doubt, that includes the neighbours opposite as well as next door to them. And tonight I'm going to climb into their garden and leave a little note in a pentangle arranged out of twigs, straw and human hair, telling them to do just that.

84 - posted at 11:58:01
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