or it isn’t. Though the word is just magnificent.
C is for see.
C is for sea.
and also for Hugh Laurie’s Tweet Fest
My name is Hugh and I am a terrible driver.
Never mind the arrogance. It’s the savagely impertinent implication that your petty mind cannot fathom the speed and agility of mine.
I’d do it myself, only there are two puppies chasing each other in the garden opposite that need watching.
Hugh Laurie in the Morning
It says in the paper today that people who tweet are narcissists. I’m not sure what the word ‘people’ means.
Are people those things that move around in the street, covered in clothes?
There’s one person who retweets anything I say automatically. I must be able to abuse this trust somehow.
I’ve decided ‘I get it’ is my phrase of the day. It even surpasses ‘whatever’ which takes some doing.
Hugh Laurie and the Dangers of Exercise
Going to try running now. This will take 30 mins and may prolong my life by 2mins. Or shorten it be 25 years. It’s a terrible deal.
I saw a cloud in the sky today that looked amazingly like Benedict Cumberbatch.
I just got back from a run in broad daylight. My pectorals will be home in a couple of minutes.
Hugh Laurie vs. Hygiene
Do Mail Online writers go home and scrub themselves with wire wool howling for absolution as the shower scalds their bleeding skin?
Last night I was so moisturized I couldn’t open the door of my hotel room.
Today, I’m slithering. I could get through your letter box. I won’t, but I could.
Hugh Laurie on Nations
I dream of a day when every person on earth will have their own language. Also national anthem, currency, and electrical sockets.
I’m not one to damn a nation and its culture on the basis of their winter sportswear – but really, some of these anoraks are diabolical.
Saudis ban atheism by defining it as terrorism. No point in words any more. Let’s just bounce on the bed. And by bed, I mean trout.
Fortunately, the French respond to my milky complexion.
Brazilians are so lovely. I passed out drunk last night and woke up with an extra kidney.
I will sit apart from the rest with a pot of tea and a cricket bat, mourning the loss of the colonies.
Hugh Laurie and the One Life
Life. Is like your favourite socks. It turns out you only have one.
I say let’s all resolve to feel good. Even as we dip our toes in the lake of fire.
A crow the size of a huge crow just landed on my balcony and stared at me. If I die in the next 40 years, can someone look into this?
If there’s a God….and so on. Can’t we just shelve this until someone levitates, or walk through a wall under laboratory conditions?
Hugh Laurie and the Forbidden Things
Good grief will people stop Calling For Things To Be Banned? Ban banning, I say, in that endearingly confused way I have.
At least is should be one in, one out. To ban smoking, you have to allow cannabis; to ban sugary drinks, allow nudism in libraries, etc.
Why do they still say no smoking on aeroplanes? As a smoker, I accepted defeat years ago. They may as well say no bonfires, or horse-riding.
Once again, I’ve woken up like a bear with a dim memory of having drunk too many unfamiliar cocktails last night.
At the risk of stirring up a mad controversy, may I wish you all a happy new year?
Do you ever get the feeling you’re not being watched?
NB | I wish I could claim the lines above. I can’t. They are bound in eternal servitude to Hugh Laurie and his Twitter account @hughlaurie.
C in the A to Z challenge (that somehow predominantly features heaps of silliness)