Shouting at pies

So I've been to the first match for my adopted team, the mighty Orient. It was all meticulously planned and carried out, bar the crucial detail regarding pubs in Leyton to go to before and after the match. Still, we found a particularly unpleasant place for two swift ones, sat in the cheap seats, had a half-time pie and retired afterwards for another couple of looseners. The highlight was, having abused TV unfunny-man Bob Mills while looking at his column in the programme, realising he was sitting behind us. Next time we'll talk louder so that he hears.

Anyway, we won, and I'll be going back next time.

In worse news, The Boy and my trip to Amsterdam is looking rather shaky, thanks to the massive overreaction to the terrorist plot. Not that I want to be blown up, and I'm sure there is good reason, but do we really need this amount of hysteria? I doubt it. I don't have a problem with the hand luggage rules; I do have a problem with the extent of searching - I think Ryanair are on the money when they say checking a random 25% of passengers would work. Anyway, carry on like this and we can enjoy the collapse of the economy and no more cheap flights - that'll show the terrorists how we'll carry on as normal. Plus, the government - not the most open of organisations at the best of times - are sounding more and more like a fascist junta everyday, ruling by fear...

I just hope our flight isn't cancelled. The equivalent tomorrow is, and it's not looking good.