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Friday, March 11, 2005

RND

For the benefit of my non-British or non-resident British readers, it's Red Nose Day today in Great Britain.

My favourite Red Nose Day was the one back in the early 90s when people put big red noses on their cars, between the headlamps. The noses remained in place for months (in some cases, even years) afterwards, slowly fading to a pinkish colour. I remember when I went to France being questioned about the "hats" that people had on their cars. Took me a while to work out what they were on about...

So, what have I done for RND? Er, nothing I'm afraid. I was *going* to put some red streaks in my hair with my new Babyliss "Colourlights" kit (which I have yet to "christen"). But I forgot.

At work, some of my colleagues have painted a variety of red blotches on their face. I just turned around to see someone having a very serious meeting with their boss, with a bright, red nose and rosy cheeks. After a while, people forget that they've sprayed their hair green or painted their face, and they go about their daily business as normal.

For some reason, this amuses me no end. It reminds me of a scene in last year's Big Brother, where Jason and Victor were sitting there in the garden, bemoaning the return of Michelle and Emma to the house. What made that scene hilarious to me was the fact that on the one hand, they were having a very serious conversation but on the other, they were dressed as pantomime dames, with wigs, make-up and all.

One time, when I was on holiday in Prague with some friends, we discovered a hall of mirrors bizarrely located on a hill overlooking the city. I don't know whether it was a lack of sleep or an excess of very cheap cigarettes, but I was hysterical pretty much throughout that visit to what some might imagine to be a rather dull fairground attraction.

The point at which I really lost it was when friend S had "finished" looking at amusing reflections of himself, and was walking out of the hall of mirrors. I could see a reflection of him in one of the mirrors, walking nonchalantly out of the hall, like butter wouldn't melt, with a hideously elongated head. By this point, I could no longer breathe...



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