Aw ‘kinell, do I have to?

Just like there’s always at least one pregnant weather girl on the telly, there is also at least one bloggy meme thing knocking around the admosphere. I thought I’d kept my head down but Jetpacks has caught me out.
Luckily we’ve had, by British standards, a fierce world-ending blizzard today. This means that the country has been neutralised by snowfall, the only time two inches can keep a woman in bed all day.
I did somehow fight my way into Giraffe Towers this morning, seemingly the only bugger on my floor to have bothered, apart from one of my PAs who came in crying. She asked me to console her, so I hit her over the head with my Nintendo DS.
Twas a reasonably quiet day (no phones ringing, thank the gods), so I’ve been able to think about this for at least, oh, six minutes.
To quote Jetpacks, cos I’m too damn lazy to put it into my own words:

During the last round of "Seven Things About Me," the blogger meme where you tell....yes... seven (likely unknown) things about yourself...I opted out when a few of my virtual friends asked me to play along, citing my previous involvement in the game.
I've rethought it and decided to play, but with a twist.
I will reveal seven things about my future self, and then call out a few bloggers to do the same.

So here are 7 things about my future, which is of course, your future:

• A new bird flu virus transmitted by grouse devastates the Royal Family leaving me, 327,889th in line to the throne, in charge.


• I pull rank at the ASA to ensure that only ads that feature monkeys, ducks or giraffes are passed for public consumption. Let’s face it, the PG Tips chimps were the funniest things on telly, ever.


• I finally stop having those terrifying dreams where, decades after graduating, I still have to file one last dissertation.


• Somehow I have achieved the impossible: a freshly-cooked Sausage & Egg McMuffin at lunchtime (the laws of physics may have to change to allow this).


• At one of those uncomfortable social occasions populated by too many posh people which I always seem to attend in order to please someone else, I surprise everyone by playing the bouzouki. People swoon and make those patronising ethnic statements that I used to enjoy when employing a heavy Greek accent.


• I finally get to tell THAT joke about the priest, the pencil sharpener and the cucumber. At a wedding.


• My children are genuinely taken aback when they find out that yes, I really do have a spaceship buried under the garden.

Now, the deeply unpleasant bit where I pick some of those ad bloggers who I know occasionally drop into this vastly significant forum, and compel them to pick their future sevens. Yeah well, that’ll teach you to blog. Feed the beast and sometimes it bites back:

Famous Rob. Because the-ad-pit looks exactly the same as it did 4 years ago and yet somehow through astute web diplomacy and smart writing has turned it into one of the blogs to read about the murky world of planning.

Scamp. Well, I ask you. I was reading Scamp before Campaign turned him into the Dark Lord of Blogging for British Creatives. Admittedly, there are no other blogs by UK creatives that have endured for so long and evolved to the point where many blog posts can hit 100 comments. Unlike those Johnny-come-latelys who read Scamp now, some of us remember him as a cheeky puppy. Now he’s all grown up, like, and doesn’t play in the junior playground any more.

Doug. Or Hector. WTF? Graeme has swallowed an html coding book, defected to Wordpress and created a swanky blog totally in line with the look of his swanky employer.

Amelia. Because she has publicly admitted on her blog that she wants to find something to do after recovering from an operation.

Charles. Because he regularly comments on my other blog, which I don’t update as often as I should, and has an unreasonably interesting life as reported in Punk Planning.

The Kaiser. Or Sacrum. Or is it Marcus? Because he’s fucking mad. And brilliant.

I’s gonna add some more but bejeesus is that the time? 24’s about to start! Out!