what a week

what a week hey? gosh, indeed, i mean savile, what happened there? i cant even remember when that story started. i cant remember being surprised – it all rather crept up on you, didn't it? a bit like savile himself! but certainly i was dumbfounded and horrified. i mean, what the hell? bbc! where are you! as Norwich city fan delia smith once said. meanwhile, George osborne doesn't pay for his ticket on the train only to dig into his pockets and pay the £170 or whatever it was or else be thrown in with the animals in the standard seating area. ah but that was a long time ago, an age in the life of the newsreel. but that boy, that George, he's a cheeky one. one day he's skipping the train, the next he's parking a turd square on the head of a pensioner. i also took a train. i took one from crewkerne to home. a girl was crying on the platform and i offered her some chocolate. she said 'oh, go on then' and snapped a bit off. to be honest, she snapped off a bit more than i hoped she had. but i couldn't very well ask her to give some back, with the tears down her face and everything. the train was held up somewhere in Dorset. i had no idea where, it was late and i dont have GPS on my phone. it wasn't a station that's for sure. that's for sure! it was pitch black i tell you. we were all told to get off, they had run out of coal, or whatever it is that makes trains run, and we had to walk to the sea and get a boat the rest of the way. get back and wham, hurricane city! Sandy's on her way. it's like the motion picture Grease, with john travolta and olivia newton john, and just as badass. one of those BBC reporters, john sopel i think, he just loves it, kept saying the sea is swelling like a cauldron. presenters were lining up to get their storm report in, just hoping, hoping, hoping that they will be on TV when a building falls down or a person gets swept away. day after tomorrow, that's what it was, the soundtrack was virtually playing over the montage of waves and satellite images. does new york know when it ends and when its representation begins, i wonder.