sashinka | observation orientated, with a twist of lime | a blog

Well, here's a thing. The natural inner-journo checked out where comedy nutter Barschak lived, on Monday. He was listed on the electoral roll (192.com), as sharing a flat with his sister in deepest Kilburn. His parents were listed, unsurprisingly, as sharing a house with each other, in Kilburn. I won't exacerbate their doubtless privacy-free status by publishing it here, as it'll end up on the front page of google, and that's just not nice. But today, Aaron's gone from 192.com; like never existed. Amazing what a deal from the Daily Star or whatever can do. Customer service only works at speed if you've got a couple of zeros on the end of your name/paycheck.

Anyway, what this is really about is that I just got back from a friend's party (M, 21 again), where N was talking about Monday's piece in the Times. Scroll down to the last paragraph:

Jill Ducasse, one of Mr Barschak’s neighbours in Golders Green, North London, said: “A couple of days ago, he was outside wearing an orange boiler suit. He said that he was doing a terrorist character from Camp X-Ray.”

Now when I first read this, I was convinced that "Golders Green, North London" was Times-esque for Jewish. But a bit of judicious 192ing, turns up that Jill Ducasse lives in an extremely noisy street backing onto the Hendon Way/A41, overlooking Clitterhouse Playing Fields (a name, I've always felt, that was some kind of town-planning joke visited on us for generations). So it could be that he rents out his place in NW6, and rents in NW11.

Be very afraid. Of something.

And his Dad called himself, in the Evening Standard, "a small scale property developer" or some such. Why say you're small? Cos you're big, that's way. Conversly, why overstate the size of your investment? Because it's miniscule. You get the picture.