Supergrass on a plane...

I returned last night from my 10 day sojourn in northern portugal, and like a revolutionary returning from exile I return full of ideas, theories, questions and duty free cigarettes.

On my return flight I was sat one row behind the boys from Supergrass, they were returning from a festival they headlined. I first spotted them as I was sedating myself pre-flight in the airport bar, when I spied in the corner of my eye someone wearing sunglasses, a hat and ghey indie clothing. As I was about to brand him a fish, or whatever unwitty remark came to mind (being away tames my english vocab), I then noticed he was that famous guy wot from that band that woz big in the 90s.

I then recalled how Mourinho got his break. Y'see, I once read a story about how Mourinho was at an airport when the late Bobby Robson was at Sporting, and Robson needed a translator, Mour got talking to him and landed the job! Of course, Mour had some experience in coaching etc., and this story is apparently not entirely true, but anyway, its been my dream of leaving the rat race behind by randomly getting a great job offer at an airport. Isn't this also how kate moss was discovered, when returning from holiday?

If only I wasn't so hungover that I could barely keep my eyes open. Not even hair of the dog saved me, urgh, there went my big chance. I could have somehow let them know I was part of the british blog scene, the most happening literary scene in the world, and they could use some of my blog material for musical and lyrical ideas etc.

Another time.

Anyway, if anyone cares: They weren't very rock n roll, I think the drummer even said to the others "don't eat the plane food, its bad for you". Also, when some girl started crying on the plane, they actually did their best to cheer her up, which was nice. etc. yawn.

I ended up getting home at 7pm, then got a call for a home poker game, I was round like a shot, £20 buy-in cash game, left with £50 and pretty smashed. It's always depressing to return from holiday, so that was a decent homecoming.

As I was abroad, I once again noticed how many cousins get married in these rural areas (I've seen it in a few countries), and how its all the norm. I got thinking, how desperate would I have to be to get with a cousin. TBH I have a couple of hot cousins, and I never see them because they live in Portugal, so they aren't like sisters to me in a social sense, and I think "whoever gets to tap that is a lucky bastard", I might even sometimes lick my lips at the thought, the image might even crop into my head for a split second during a cheeky wank before I reprimand myself and say a few rosarys to repent... but to actually bang them...I think I'd get sick half-way through. But how do I know unless I try?