Numbers Game

The population of Canada is 30 million or thereabouts. Therefore I was astonished to learn that Vancouver airport moves 17.5 millions passengers every year. Of course I realise that most of these won't be Canadians, in fact it stands to reason that the majority will be the same person counted twice as most people leave and return to the same airport, but that's still a hell of a figure.

When we were learning how to sensibly apply for a grant, the lady from the ministry told us to bear one number in mind. The grants are given out to benefit residents of the Province of BC. The population of BC is 4.1 million. If we claim that the programme we are asking for money to support will benefit 5 million - well that's a foot shooter.

Last night, Studio 60 returned to our screens. It has a second chance to get the numbers right, it might do better right now since we have now reached the TV wasteland time of year. There is sod all on apart from repeats.

I never cease to be stunned by the perfidy of some men. In a divorce case heard and appealed in London, the ruling of the original judge has been upheld that the wife should have £48 million of the couple's £131 million assets. The couple had been married for 28 years and had raised a family. Why the wife should be entitled to less than half is a question that I feel needs addressing, but the idea that she shouldn't even get a little over a third as was being hotly contested by the former husband, beggars belief.

It's a good thing that we don't actually have think bubbles hovering above our heads as in cartoons.
The teacher today said she was amazed at how I'd learnt all the children's names during the programme. My think bubble would have read,
'And I'm amazed you brought them here without name labels like everyone else.'
In Shoppers' Drug Mart, my bubble would have read,
'Back off you stupid twat, I'm in the middle of paying for my purchases and that's just as important as your buying a sodding lottery ticket, witless fuck.'
To the leader of the self-guided pre-school group, it would have read,
'Why the frell are you allowed to be in charge of small children when you can't read or manage unsupervised yourself?'
To the twonk in front of me in Stupor-store,
'You stupid moron, why the hell are you buying all that complete junk, then using plastic bags for each large bag of crisps, not to mention that you've told the shop assistant you didn't want any so you didn't have to pay for them and now you're treating him like he's an idiot for not reading your mind.' Then there would have been a cartoon picture of my foot connecting with his bollocks.

I don't know exactly what the number on the thermometer must say right now, but I'm guessing it's 20 something. A little something for the weekend Sir, Ma'am?
Yep, rain.