Say what you want about Hare Krishnas, they’ve got rhythm.

It is easily thought that kebab-store grilled meat suffers from limiting gradations of quality – all well below good. I, however, had the fortune to wander into this place – Kebabish, subittled ‘we thrill to grill’ – just up from the Bakerloo line stop of Edgeware Road tube – where they, you guessed it, grill excellent meat to put into freshly baked bread. It’s a good pitstop: I had there what is perhaps the most accurately and delightfully named ‘kebab roll’ in the Universe. £2 well spent.

It’s fantastic. Kebabalicious, one might even say, should one be inclined.

Hummer.

Surely there can be no need. No NEED! Although it seems I have found a use for the camera in my phone.

…one would imagine, to the setences one can generate when trying to be truly imaginative with the English language; it’s for this reason that people like Martin Amis and Salman Rushdie impress me; they have literary flair. What I find amusing, and what my Mum, who’s an Academic Socio-Linguist (is there any other kind?) finds interesting, are the kinds of quasi-sentences that just pop out when you least expect them.

For example, the other day (ok, ok, it was yesterday at the pub and this is all part of the great napkin-blogging enterprise), a friend (ok, it was Tom) enunciated the following words: “Google Weebl badgers find.” Although this made limited sense to me, “Google” as a verb does; so, following the recommendation of Mr Phillips, I ended up visiting a site where I did, indeed, find badgers. In fact, it’s an interesting song about badgers and mushrooms that to me was vaguely reminiscent of 2 Unlimited’s ‘No Limit’.

The makers of the English language may decry our efforts to be inventive with the language, but I largely applaud it. Not anything that leads to the badger site, though. That gave me a headache. Little buggers.

I figured out where the mental image of the flying v came from. This ad, on the london underground, badly photographed on the way back from the pub last night (but which you’ll recognise if you’ve seen it).

Along with the recent news that Eric Clapton is selling his guitars made me think of his black and white classic beauty – so I merged the two in my head and had a b&w flying V in my dreams. It’s a relief to have worked it out. I thought, briefly, that my subconscious was rebelling against everything good and true.

Last night I dreamt I was leading a jam session at my primary school in Malaysia, except I was my current age, and playing a flying V.

I’ve never even wanted a flying V. Give me a Les Paul or an SG any day. Weird.