MM - UNLEASHED !

Bugger Trafalgar and Nelson...

2011-12-05T10:41:00.000-08:00

"Order the signal, Hardy."
"Aye, aye sir."
"Hold on, that's not what I dictated to the signal officer. What's the meaning of this?"
"Sorry sir?"
"England expects every person to do his duty, regardless of race, gender,sexual orientation, religious persuasion or disability. What gobbledygook is this?"
"Admiralty policy, I'm afraid, sir. We're an equal opportunities employer now. We had the devil's own job getting 'England' past the censors, lest it be considered racist."
"Gadzooks, Hardy. Hand me my pipe and tobacco."
"Sorry sir. All naval vessels have been designated smoke-free working environments."
"In that case, break open the rum ration. Let us splice the main brace to steel the men before battle."
"The rum ration has been abolished, Admiral. It's part of the Government's policy on binge drinking."
"Good heavens, Hardy. I suppose we'd better get on with it. Full speed ahead."
"I think you'll find that there's a 4 knot speed limit in this stretch of water."
"Damn it man! We are on the eve of the greatest sea battle in history. We must advance with all dispatch. Report from the crow's nest, please."
"That won't be possible, sir."
"What?"
"Health and safety have closed the crow's nest, sir. No harness. And they said that rope ladder doesn't meet regulations. They won't let anyone up there until proper scaffolding can be erected."
"Then get me the ship's carpenter without delay, Hardy."
"He's busy knocking up a wheelchair access to the mess Admiral."
"Wheelchair access? I've never heard anything so absurd."
"Health and safety again, sir. We have to provide a barrier-free
environment for the differently-abled."
"Differently-abled? I've only one arm and one eye and I refuse even to hear mention of the word. I didn't rise to the rank of Admiral by playing the disability card."
"Actually, sir, you did. The Royal Navy is under-represented in the areas of visual impairment and limb deficiency."
"Whatever next? Give me full sail. The salt spray beckons."
"A couple of problems there too, sir. Health and safety won't let the crew up the rigging without crash helmets. And they don't want anyone breathing in too much salt - haven't you seen the adverts?"
"I've never heard such infamy. Break out the cannon and tell the men to stand by to engage the enemy."
"The men are a bit worried about shooting at anyone, Admiral."
"What? This is mutiny."
"It's not that, sir. It's just that they're afraid of being charged with murder if they actually kill anyone. There's a couple of legal aid lawyers on board, watching everyone like hawks."
"Then how are we to sink the Frenchies and the Spanish?"
"Actually, sir, we're not."
"We're not?"
"No, sir. The Frenchies and the Spanish are our European partners now. According to the Common Fisheries Policy, we shouldn't even be in this stretch of water. We could get hit with a claim for compensation."
"But you must hate a Frenchman as you hate the devil."
"I wouldn't let the ship's diversity co-coordinator hear you saying that sir. You'll be up on disciplinary."
"You must consider every man an enemy who speaks ill of your King."
"Not any more, sir. We must be inclusive in this multicultural age. Now put on your Kevlar vest; it's the rules."
"Don't tell me - health and safety. Whatever happened to rum, sodomy and the lash?"
As I explained, sir, rum is off the menu. And there's a ban on corporal punishment."
"What about sodomy?"
"I don't know about that sir."
"In that case ...kiss me, Hardy."

He's BEHIND YOU Stupid !

2011-11-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

With Kung Fu lessons at the interval....

I'm going to see Cinderella in my local theatre soon, and I got to the thinking of the last time I saw this panto, which was probably when sepia was in and we paid a shilling to see it. The show was half way through and at a point where Poor ole Cinders was for some reason locked in a cupboard, mainly because the performance was done by an very poor director who couldn't afford an kitchen backdrop..... next to me sat a few disabled people with Downs Syndrome, one in particular was really getting in the the swing of it, and had been very vocal re the "Where is he ? he's BEHIND you !!!", thing, and had even cleared the stalls a few times to point it out, and been dragged back.

He was obviously unhappy the cast had poor eyesight or something, but the lead part of the show, decided to stretch it out a bit, and whip up some hysteria amongst the kids by keeping up the pretence, they really didn't know where poor ole Cinders was... clearly our enthusiastic compadre in the next seat got really annoyed with this, and after the umpteenth time of "Where is Cinders ?" was shouted to the assembled crowd, he stood up and shouted "She's in the effing cupboard, are you effing blind ?", which brought the house down..... A star is born. He should be there every night...

Panto's have changed a bit since my day, we used to love the bits in-between, the story was only secondary really, to running around the theatre like a headless chicken, and throwing half-chewed toffees at the people in front of you. You'd get the decorator gags and slapstick, the skeletons flying above your head, the wicked witch, a pop star or TV weather presenter or three, dressed in tights trying to look serious and failing abysmally, you prayed for the curtain to fall, preferably on them....and custard pies galore, now it seems a little throw-away, and they stick ballroom dancing in for some reason..... Whatever happened to the bouncing ball song ? I wondered. Here's one...

Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers
Oooh That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

One slick snake slid down the slippery slue
That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

Peter Piper picked, a peck of pickled peppers
A peck of pickled peppers, Peter Piper picked
That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

ALL TO-GETHER ! (Chorus)

Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers
That isn't so hard to say,
but try as you can
you never can say
wot the 'eck, do Vicky and Bek
Use to scrub and clean their neck
and they wear red thongs around their neck !
I really shouldn't say..

They didn't even drag up some unsuspecting urchin and humiliate them for a free box of chocolates, so we could wince as they cried their hearts out (ahhhhh...), as we used to enjoy, sadly times change. In my day when the villain came on stage you had to hold us back, to prevent us crippling him..... he'd get more missiles lobbed at him, than an adulterer in downtown Tehran, or the corporation Bus drivers, you used to get them ongoing things, like, every time an ugly sister or witch came on you'd have to shout ... LETTUCE !! LETTUCE !! let the rabbit eat LETTUCE!!! (?), or something equally obscure in your loudest voice... which was guaranteed they said to annoy the villains every time.. it bloody annoyed me... especially when there was no rabbit in it, but two rather dubious blokes inside a cow, or a talking cat or summat, all rather iffy if you ask me.

It's gone gender positive as well, instead of he's behind you, he's behind you !! to inflame the audience, it's LOOK OUT !!!! LOOK OUT !!!! she's in FRONT of you !! ... (and wearing beige... ughhh !). Dandini really is a bloke now.... but with an errant wrist action, and a civil rights message to boot, and the ugly sisters all look like Katy Price (a bit better looking really). We now get Idle Jack played by Lady Ga-Ga clones, and the DWP chasing her around the stage for benefit, and bean tax evasion, and selling livestock without the appropriate health clearance forms.

Long John Silver hasn't a parrot, because of the avian flu scare, and he is allergic to feathers, so he has a stuffed marmoset instead, or a cornflake packet. Baron Hardup played by David Cameron was deemed too scary for children so they got John Prescott....... that would be worth seeing... but ease up on the eggs or he'll thump you. "It's prudent to marry off my two step daughters to royalty....", etc.. and hope social services don't cotton on the fact his own daughter is a skivvy in the cellar, (Played very unconvincingly by that Albanian asylum seeker with a lisp I thought), although glass slippers are now out because of health and safety laws or something, and she wears snow boots, and has a child or four with no father in sight, so set to coin it, so why settle for second best and marry a Royal ? They pay tax now don't they ?

I gather Cherie Blair has just turned down a lucrative offer for a leading part in 101 Dalmatians, pity, they had 100....doesn't seem the same 'though.

The Twitter song

2011-08-19T10:46:00.001-07:00

@all Ha ha He He He
An twitting twit
for all to see
I'll talk crap
for all to read
A happy twit
is wot I be
I go online
and pretty soon
you

Don't text me, I'm British...

2011-08-09T05:01:00.000-07:00

"Hey Dad ! I got an new App that can translate local slang...", "Erm.. what's an App ?" "Hang on I'll ask.... it translates that you are over 40..."

What with clouds, androids, windows 101, and BBM messenging, I need to get with it or be left with my megaphone and land line. I did buy an mobile phone, but it ran out of credits or something. I paid one £10 fee and didn't know you had to buy more when that ran out, so used the phone to prop the table up with and considered it now had an use.

I am anti-social because I find that more social to be. Anti-social is the new black or purple... On the Bus today I was surrounded by people with wires sticking out of their heads and almost every person on that bus yakking away completely oblivious to everyone else, they play what passes for music but appears to be an hissing sound like white noise, which apparently no self-respecting teen can do without....and a few teenage girls crying and looking very upset they hadn't a call in the last 10 minutes so were 'twitching or tweeting' or something, in case they had fell off the end of the world, I explained the bus only went to town nowhere else.... and the shops are probably better on Pluto but..

I pointed out to a few of them to consider the sensibilities of others who do NOT care to know your business and would rather you sit in silence on public transport and SHUT UP! I even tried sign language and cod Swazi, but no go.... perhaps they only respond to texts ?

Sadly they were so engrossed in poking the things they didn't realise they had been spoken too, it was like an mass outbreak of deafness... if these things are meant to make people more social, it isn't working, two girls were texting each other whilst sitting on the same bus, rather surreal. Apparently unless you get an fone call every 2 minutes you are some social pariah or weirdo. I was the weirdo apparently because not only did my archaic mobile not have an camera on it or the internet, I never have it with me, and cannot for the life of me remember the number, except it is longer than an pi calculation... Naturally I never give the number out to anyone but essential services. I've joined the car poor, and now technical poor fraternity, which is rather nice, and you get a quiet enough life, not being phoned all hours and being asked what I had for tea today, or had so and so been shopping, I mean who cares I don't.

Meandering around the internet (I do pop in from time to time), there is some gizmo that will block mobile telephone signals, so I had sent away for one and next time I go out and about a few are for a surprise..... I just want to see what happens when 35 mobiles go dead for an hour.... I'm told it could possible lead to mental breakdowns and even people having to speak again, but I'm willing to take that chance...

Bluddy Neighours !

2011-07-28T02:27:00.000-07:00

There is a huge house in our street. The extended family is run by a grumpy old woman with a pack of irritable dogs allowed to run without leads. Her car isn't taxed or insured and doesn't even have a number plate, but the police still do nothing. To the best of my knowledge, she has never worked in her life. Her bad-tempered old man is notorious for his racist comments. A shopkeeper blamed him for arranging the murder of his son and his son's girl-friend, but nothing has ever been proved. All their kids have broken marriages except the youngest, who everyone thought was gay. Two grandsons are meant to be in the Army but are always out partying in nightclubs. It is not known if they have the same father. They are both out of control.

I hate living near Windsor Castle.........

(Thanks to MAZ for that one)...

The Swiss do more than Roll..

2011-07-25T11:24:00.000-07:00

The Swiss have but one claim to fame, the most famous joke of the 20th century, (not the one about the swiss chalet maid and the one-handed Irish bell ringer... Or the hilarious misunderstanding of the words CHUCHICHÄSCHTLI, and CHÄS-CHÜECHLI which apparently keeps them in hysterical laughter for months on end, between avalanches, it was about a sensational 'pasta harvest' which was broadcast in 1957 on the B and B of C, (A sort of early you've been framed in black and white, with presenters you wouldn't want to meet on a dark night), which apparently fooled most British too, (we didn't get out much then, and Billy Cotton was the only 'pop idol' we had), so no wonder they fooled Adolph Hitler into believing there was nothing there worth invading, and his bank account was quite safe.

Perhaps we underrated them. No whinge about Switzerland would obviously be complete without the yodel... it would be like Beckham without a football, Posh with talent, My city without pound shops, or Davy Cameron getting a day job. The earliest recorded mention re Switzerland, comes in the 4th century A.D. when the Roman Emperor Julian complained about 'wild shrieking' coming from the northern mountain people (sounds like our town centre on a Saturday night to me). Most ethnomusicologists however, date the yodel at "shortly after the dawn of man." Jurassic cuckoos or something...

That was TV that Was.

2011-07-10T09:56:00.000-07:00

I am giving up on TV, it is only annoying me .. Is it age when all you view on TV seems pointless ? Or is it I have achieved viewer nirvana, I am discerning ? It really does look as if 95% of TV output is there just to annoy me personally, they never put on anything I like, it's written by 5 yr olds, or has to appeal to those who haven't a life of any kind. Hence me watching Japanese/Chinese news for something sensible... Did you know who made the carpets for Shanghai Railway ? I don't care either, but the scenery is nice, if smog is your thing.

Wildlife programs: I prefer to eat animals not watch them, they only bite or spit at you anyway.

World suffering: It is depressing me as well, Here's a quid, now go away.

Documentaries: Like I care about the lifestyle of penguins, or some obscure gastropods life cycle, sorry, can't get interested in that stuff, lets make them extinct or sushi.

War documentaries: I DO appreciate the horrors, but enough TV time now please, we will still repeat the same mistakes. That much I have learnt, we don't learn by them. Kids today still think Hitler was in TAKE THAT, and Hannibal ate elephants, so I don't think it's working anyway...

Reality TV: If this is reality then they have put something in my tea. Viewers care more about some brain-dead bimbo sleeping with an footy player, or some idiots pretending they have talent, when there is probably more in my toe. Will cheryl cole please go AWAY, and make the same mistakes again. You were FIRED, what part of your useless do you not understand ?

The Royal Family: I voted Cromwell....

Fashion: I was never in, when in as an term recognized. I'm more than happy being well out thanks, jeans, wellies, and an t-shirt is all I ever want to wear.

Cookery programs: I hope they choke on it all frankly, how many different ways ARE there to fry chips ? Pretentious oiks anyway. Go away and boil yer head (Perhaps with herbs, kentucky chicken, and a touch of garlic with an warm side salad)...

Medical dramas: If anything it says stay away from Doctors and enter hospital at your peril. Mostly it seems they want to screw/kill the patients.

Soaps: Jane is expecting a child, Arthur is worried about Gertie, Francis has learnt to stand upright, charlie is joining Micky at the centre, alphonso is found to be an illegal... erm, don't care.

Housing programs: Bring on subsidence.

Antique Shows: Old tat, flog it.

DIY: Get an hammer it's useful for knocking nails in, next ?

Politics: P*SS off.

Late night Films: Seen them all, so did my grandad...

Game Shows: What's your name ? here's £50 quid, and most get it wrong.

World TV coverage: It's round what's to know ?

Newsreels: They make it up as they go along, there is no such place as Australia..

Teen college-ed talent shows: YAY ! we gotta show ! No you haven't, you can't sing, you can't dance, and acting is beyond you, get a real job and stop messing about.

Celebrity reality shows: Never heard of them, shut up.

The Daily chauvinist guide to..

2011-06-25T01:37:00.000-07:00

Dating...

I've occasionally been accused of not having a sensitive side to me, OK I kick puppies, trip up people on crutches, let tyres down on wheelchairs, and shout at babies, but doesn't everyone..... ? so I'd like to offer supportive advice to male chauvenists and others who are too busy to spend time to get laid, because it interferes with serious stuff like Rugby and drinking. I advise speed dating, It's all the go for those who are too busy, lying in the gutter, or spending a night's free B&B at the local nick, so haven't time to chat up ze opposite sex (Or even the same one if you're lebanese). It's pretty pointless going to clubs and pubs to meet potential partners, they're only there to get ratted like you, if they had a life would they be there ? One loser in the relationship is enough....

Maybe you are one of those superwomen who have 9 kids, 4 with ASBO's, 3 useless boyfriends, and 2 divorced spouses, whilst juggling a 6am till 9pm job at the local launderette or something, for the minimum wage and free Daz.... ? If you still have enough time and energy to engage in conversation, or feel incomplete without another partner (Or just want someone to mind the kids free, whatever), then you will need some welcome tips about how to go about utilising this modern and hyper-efficent way, of meeting that ideal partner, who knows lads, perhaps they might have their own washing machine, and hate Man United.......

Speed dating is not for the feint-hearted, so after you've splashed on a gallon or three of the Brut and Old Spice, simmered in a bath of strawberry radox for 3 hours, and optimistically bought 3 (Chocolate/chilli flavoured) condoms, remember, you only have exactly 5 minutes to sell yourself and find out what the other person thinks (Apart from the fact you look a desperate loser).

The first person turns up, OK she looks like she needs more beauty sleep than Methusula ever did, (And he had a better beard), but hey, perhaps she can wash dishes and iron ? who knows, perhaps she does DIY ? don't look a gift horse in mouth, use your finely honed flirting techniques - if you’re interested let her know, use eye contact (One or both it's optional), the occasional friendly touch and remembering her name, are useful tools too, unless you really want them, probably best to stay clear of drooling down her blouse, and asking how much silicone in those do you get for a quid......

Have a number of stock questions ready. Five minutes may not seem a lot (about 6 times longer than making love, is the usual guide... so the ladies inform me), but there is nothing worse than drying up, do not start with, "You're starter for 5, do I have to chat you up first, or am I wasting my time and there are better after you ?", it tends to be off-putting to the ladies who may feel you lack some sincerity. Try a sensible list that includes e.g, Can you wash/iron/cook/clean ? are prepared to love Rugby/footy and willing to hand over the TV remote to you unconditionally ? these are basics you will have to get sorted before progressing any further... most relationships have foundered over these vital issues, so get 'em sorted first.

Do dress well, speed dating tends to attract the fashionable and well groomed, or is that the dog show ? I've my notes mixed up... if you turn up with the leash on, tell them it's a new trend, punk is back, (best not to mention you are a founder member of the local S&M society,and leather-wear camping troop....). Leave the track suit, string vest, and pink trainers at home. observe basic guidelines, if they've fallen for your old line (there may be one, it'll be the one with a white stick and a hearing aid), ensure you meet in a public place, tell a friend where you are going, and arrange the half-hourly phone call, in case she doesn't put out, then you can arrange for a house fire to attend to, a granny who has snuffed it, or if all else fails, say "It's the wife again.."

Be careful what you eat, particularly if food is served during the speed dating, if they wanted a walking ad for Lard Ass R Us, they wouldn't be there, they'd still be with previous partners.... Think, is your date likely to enjoy the sight of you gorging on spicy noodles, and spotted dick? Relax, (but don't fall asleep), research has proven that over anxiety in potential partners is one of the biggest turn offs for women, don't make yourself look more desperate than you already are.

Telling lies, might seem like a good idea at the time, but how long could you keep up pretending to be a brain surgeon/dolphin trainer/ballerina ? Don't talk overtly on controversial topics, like e.g. seal clubbing, putting cats in microwaves, should it be an inalienable right ? Of course you don’t want to be bland, but think about it- would you really like to listen to a rant on Israel’s conduct in Palestine, or why Carling Black Label has gone up... (What ? AGAIN ! bluddy Labour party). Don't turn up at a date blind drunk.

Just imagine it- the music pumping, the lights down low, Mantovani and Caruso on the Karaoke, and you leering at a string of attractive, unattached ladies with skirts for neck warmers, or those weird metrospectacles… then you are flat out on the floor telling the table leg, “I love you, I’ve always loved you… gisssakizzzz....” it can be a turn off, unless you are past caring that is.... Next week, daytime TV.... a passing fad, or an acceptable replacement for euthenasia ?

Two of a kind...

2011-06-25T01:22:00.000-07:00

And THIS man is mooted Britain's greatest ever writer ? There is hope for me yet..

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA: A monologue from the play by William Shakespeare.

Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear.

He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting. Why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father. No, this left shoe is my father. No, no, this left shoe is my mother. Nay, that cannot be so neither. Yes, it is so, it is so -- it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on't! There 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand. This hat is Nan, our maid.

I am the dog. No, the dog is himself, and I am the dog -- O, the dog is me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father: 'Father, your blessing.' Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping. Now should I kiss my father -- well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O, that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her -- why, there 'tis: here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word!

Someone is taking the pee surely !

To the Right Honourable member for .....

2011-06-24T12:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Sir

I would with your express permission, like to take the opportunity afforded, to respond to your recent letter regarding the state of the current political status in the United Kingdom (As defined by the respective areas and affiliations, and how Mongoloid individuals in that area, see themselves, and thus respecting those rights therein), and to our local member of parliament in particular..

I would draw your attention to paragraph 3 (Lines 3 to 5), in that, as I understand it, it is anatomically impossible, for any individual, let alone a respected member of her majesty's parliament, with a majority of 256, to attain that extremely painful position, or insert sideways the object in question.

There were some outrageous claims, (please refer to, "Double-jointedness, sadism, and other obscure native customes of the upper Umbopu deltas", by Arthur Closworth (Published by Binge and Whinkham 1997), that did claim something similar, but I gather the orifice in question was much larger, and peculiar to that native species, and rather the exception to the general rule, and the MP in question is not as I am aware, a member of that tribe, indeed, hails from Buckingham East.

Could I also point out aspects of dubious and unerudtite spelling apparent, in paragraph 4 ? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word "Idiot" has no 'J' in it, nor an 'P', also, you may be interested to know, our MP for Uxgrimble (west), has recently published a family historical book, in which, (far from your somewhat obscenical statement, and declarations), is fully aware of his parentage, and that it can be accurately validated to 1675, with no female porcines in the family tree, included as he is aware....

I am unsure your reference in paragraph 6, to commonwealth and other foreign visitors to our shores, altogether complies with racial equality laws, disability, ethnic, or even animal rights legislation. I'm almost sure it contains 36 Human rights violations, and constitutes a clear case for libel and mentions numerous and serious breaches of religious tolerances. Public transport may well not be adequate in your area, but I'm unsure if current road legislation allows for dogs to be used in the manner you have precribed, on a public highway, or, if females should be forced to assume that unsightly position... is even legal according to Dept of Environment guidelines.

In my response, I have taken the liberty to include a dictionary for your further use, and free access to a language therapist, in the hope it may help alleviate repetitive strain injury to your lips and fingers as they constantly move along the page as you read. It is of course in large print. I wonder if you could clarify the exact area you are from ? and the primary language you use ?

Paragraphs 7 to 9 I have been unable to fathom, and I e-mailed it to a professor of ancient hieroglyphs in Cairo, who is also stumped, but quite excited, as he feels there is possibly a new language here, hitherto unknown to historians, unfortunately without a 'Rosetta stone' to help along the way, I am unable to respond to the content of those paragraphs. There appears aspects of Latin and gibberish in it, quite beyond our comprehension.

I look forward (I think), to your response.

Yours Sincerely

It's BIN Day !!

2011-06-24T12:34:00.000-07:00

Hello !!! today is B.I.N day ! (Bloggers In Need). Can I ask readers to dig really deep to help support this oscillatory Blogger ? It is a very distressing condition (Blogging), and toiling away in the twilight zone hours weekly, and sometimes twice weekly, to bring you thrills, spills and even occasional common-sense, is very hard work, not many people know this, I don't get paid a bean either.

I do it, as an earnest and dedicated voluntary community worker, to enhance the hoi polloi's lexographic education and even raise the occasional smile, my reward is usually just your appreciation, and the occasional "What drugs are you on... ? none ? best start now!" etc.... but my RSI (and BBC4), gets me down sometimes, and the expense of dark glasses (I'm averse to daylight and fresh air too), means I desperately need YOUR help.

I am NOT asking for money, (OK yes I am but, I'd not say no to a few Carling Black Labels either), but a response of friendly cheer and a bit of back slapping wouldn't go amiss, I get little recognition via extra readers who descend en mass on my blog every Monday (They were queing one abreast last week...). Love us or hate us solitarical bloggers, it's life Jim, (Perhaps not a sane one as people know it but....)

So here is my theme for this year, and it's, "Adopt a Blogger!" An highly original gift for young and old, and those with so much surgery they can't be sure.... For just tuppence you can adopt this lovable blogger as your own. Act today and get a great "I've adopted MM", T-shirt free. Friendly and good-natured (Just keep coffee away from me, and never mention 'football' in the same sentence as sport). Blog People are a joy to own, but they are also threatened in their natural habitat, usually by readers trying to get us sectioned... and facebook.

When you adopt one, you will be joining a wonderful project to protect this endangered species. You will also enjoy a special insight into the fascinating antics of the Blog People, and receive their heartfelt gratitude, and as an introduction, an free "Twitter is for stupid people" badge in 5 colours,and 'My other Identity is suspect too".

When you adopt this Blog Person for yourself as a friend, I will send you an authentic Adoption certificate featuring this your chosen Blog Person, and a "I LUV MM" sticker to put on your car. You will also receive a year's subscription to my newsletter, MM's BLOGWATCH, packed with news of your own Blogging Person's activities, fascinating Blog facts, what my cat does when he thinks no-one is watching updates, and unedited CCTV vids of our neighbours nocturnal activities when he thinks no one is watching him.. (Last week was an lulu ! god knows how he gained that position at the YMCA), combine this with stunning colour photographs of my last 15 favourite keyboards.... Don't delay ! order 2day..

You can choose any fave Blog Person you want from my fully detailed blog Adoption List, so far there is just me, but its work in progress.... My blogs come in a complete range of ages, sizes and colours, and with a comprehensive variety of incomprehensibility.

Send your cheque or postal order to me, and I will PERSONALLY guarantee not a bean goes to CIN.

What the Europeans do... but WHY ?

2011-06-24T12:09:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of news from the usual medias and been reading some news online instead, which has proven a lot more interesting than the abysmal stuff we have got so far, eg:

The headmistress of the Dvergsnes primary school in Kristiansand, Norway, proposed that boys be taught to urinate while seated, in order to reduce splashing and mis-targeting, which burden the cleaning staff, but many parents and politicians reacted bitterly. “It’s a human right (for a boy) not to have to sit down like a girl,” adding that the school was “fiddling with God’s work.” So next time the missus complains show her that....

One jilted Romanian man found a new bride by asking which of his neighbours could fit into the wedding dress, which is sound sense, saves buying another one.... Europe as usual is full of very weird people doing strange and european things, like eurovision, being foreign, etc need we say more, but I liked this one, A village in Romania has erected a 6m (20ft now the UK have capitulated to metrical measures,) monument to the onion. Residents of Periceni came up with the idea to highlight the importance of the vegetable in their lives, and to bemoan the fact their wives don't want to sit downwind.....

Our German friends (The war is over ! for those that missed that headline), and a town council in Germany have decided the best way of improving road safety is to remove all traffic lights and stop signs downtown. All traffic controls will disappear from the center of the western town of Bohmte to try to reduce accidents and make life easier for pedestrians. Russia is not to be outdone, and it seems Vladmir has erm... been firing blanks, or OD'ing on the Smirnoff of late, so don't be surprised if the streets are empty and curtains drawn in Ulyanovsk while residents take up an offer by the regional governor to help stem Russia's demographic crisis.

Ulyanovsk Governor, (Sergei Morozov) has decreed a Day of Conception and is giving couples time off from work to procreate. Couples who give birth nine months later on Russia's national day - June 12 - receive money, cars, refrigerators and other prizes. It was tried in September 2005, but there was an mass outbreak of migraine, and just 311 women signed up to take part in the first competition, and qualify for a half-day off from work. The following June, 46 more babies were born in Ulyanovsk's 25 hospitals compared with the previous June, Sergie has upped the prizes, to 5 Yaks, and is crossing everything it suuceeds to boost a flagging Russian population and hoping the ladies do not cross anything else...

Careful how you are near blind people. A blind judo expert astounded a mugger by pinning him to the ground after he tried to steal his cigarettes. The assailant, a 17-year-old man of Asian origin, spotted the blind 33-year-old, at a train station in the southwestern town of Giessen and thought he would be easy prey, what the attacker did not know, was that his victim was a world-class blind judo wrestler. The 17-year-old threatened the blind man, then punched him in the face, at which point the martial artist flipped him and held him down until police arrived. Ah-sole...!

Vision On.....

2011-06-18T12:13:00.000-07:00

"You have 20 minutes, to create a flower arrangement to kill for, starting..... NOW! .... look how brilliantly she's used that red hot poker horizontally as opposed to vertically to maximise the effect..", (Poker ?), "The bamboo intersect, and peonies, with the basic Ivy relief, is truly inspirational..", (Just shoot me now..), "and the inclusion of the two rotting pears, so you are unable to differentiate if they are conference pears, or in fact faded quince, and the ford hubcap, creates an almost surrealistic and iconic image, guaranteed to titilate and force our otherwise limited visions and perceptions of the world as it is, and to shows us what it could be... it's nature in the RAW, it's beauty and the beast, eco versus urban, it's brutal, sensual, yet subtly romantic as well, forcing us to confront our own inner conflics with life, love, death, the point of the national lottery magic numbers game, and the painful reflections of that doomed romance we all had with the common parsnip.

It's become a metaphor for Zen, for Yoga, for Yoko Ono's mind numbing gallery with 200 pictures with smile written on them, and a piece of string that challenged even the most acute scientific minds of the 20th century at the time, how long REALLY was it ? is 14 inches all it ever was ?

Was it true if you travel at umpteen times the speed of light, the utility bill will still always get there first ?" I'm beginning to see daytime TV in a new light myself, previously I had assumed it was for the senile, the care home fraternity, and the incomptetent, now clearly (Come by yer Lord, Come by yer... ), this excerpt from a gardening program, shows us it is in reality, an art form, that puts Da Vinci and Einstein in the shade, and Simon Cowell as replacement head honcho at the last supper....

Exiled temporarily as I was from the real world of the interwibble due to Microsoft trying to be clever, I passed some of the time watching the TV again, I really had not been giving it the attention the rest of the world had to my shagrin, and eternal shame, and found I was ostracised from the social graces and circles, and had nothing to talk about in mixed company at all, who the hell is Jordan ? it's a river, what's to know ? it'e water and probably quite wet, but hardly viewing unless you are a duck. X factor ? I don't really go for washing powder commercials...if they wash any whiter they'll pass an law against it...

I determined at great cost, to sit down switch the thing on, and see what the fuss was about, that or become some social pariah for eternity, although it hadn't bothered me at all until now. I discovered strictly come dancing or something was now part of the national psyche, we laughed at it in my day, as outdated, and for middle-class loonies, or potato pickers trying to look posh, it was sent it to that TV graveyard in the sky with Mike Aspel, and the black & white minstrel show, because someone complained about boot polish excess or something. The new version, was in colour, and noisier, but didn't look a lot different, except it looked like a clearing house for failed z-celebs to revive flagging careers, (those that had one in the first place, I had no idea who was in, out, or shaking it all about to be honest), I rapidly got past caring, so evidently some semblance of sanity still existed. Being a social pariah looked more appealing by the minute.

I surfed channels, discovered some MORE 'celebs' being silly in an Australian jungle and and having insect and wildlife thrown at them for good measure, nothing fatal unfortunately, but I expect that will follow at some point, the hosts were two child actors who still hadn't attained adulthood despite hitting 20 or so, or started shaving even. It was getting a little surreal... then I was getting bored, another show people talked about was an X factor program, not celebs this time taking part as participants, but as self-elected 'judges', who ridicule people to boost their own image, whoa ! stop this TV world I want off. Let's get back to sanity and radio and Mrs Dales Diary, and get worried about Jim a bit more, and issue of fowl pest.

If the sum total of social 'ins' and outs is a comprehensive knolwedge of television, I'm glad I'm out of it. Stick with it, a relative goaded me, you'll never have to worry what to say when you're out and about now. I thought I had already solved that issue by not going out and ignoring silly, and shallow people talking crap about TV programs, but..... I don't mind discussing real issues, but television isn't real is it ? If it is, we are all in trouble....

Once upon a time...

2011-05-03T11:32:00.001-07:00

1,000 years of Royalty, and we end up with Ed the Horse as the potential next King. Perhaps an discreet word in Kate's ear, about her new family might forewarn here. Take her dad-In-Law, he married a horse as well, two in fact, the first was a clothes horse..... the second the real thing. Some minor quirks may raise her eyebrows. E.G, If she visits Prince Charles' home and openes the right door at just the right time, she may well may be greeted with an unusual sight: the Prince of Wales laying face flat on the floor, eyes closed and ears perked in concentration. Just remember the door opens OUTWARDS... or his nose will match his ears...

He will, of course, be trying to eavesdrop on some of the 30,000 annual tourists who pay 15 pounds each to tour his 900-acre royal estate in Gloucestershire. "I have eavesdropped on what visitors have said, When they're going 'round outside the windows. Sometimes you've got to lie on the floor."

Of course his plantoid love affair with Chrysanthemums is legendary. He also talks about speaking with the trees and plants in his garden. "I happily talk to the plants and trees, and listen to them. I think it's absolutely crucial," he says. "Everything I've done here, it's like almost with your children. Every tree has a meaning for me." "I got a lot of flak for a lot of things," Charles says, "I mean, potty this, potty that, loony this, loony that."

But far from looney, the prince says speaking to the plants keeps him "relatively sane," Wills talks to helicopters, he's a bit more technically minded, and it probably explains his haircut, and flying about North Wales for laughs.... He loved his Mum, his dad didn't, but hey can't have everything, and throwing yourself downstairs to get attention perhaps won't work for you...

Tune in, turn off....

2011-04-27T11:01:00.001-07:00

I'm convinced Wales has been infiltrated by Aliens from Planet iworld. I used public transport today, an event in itself since for some inexpelicable reason there hasn't been any over the holiday periods. I got on said omnibus and was amazed to see 20-30 odd apparent taffies with glazed expressions clutching what appeared to a mobile phone, and with wires dangling out of their ears.

Most of then were women with strange, concerned (Panic even), expressions staring at their ithings as if willing it to bleep, burp, or otherwise indicate they are still living on planet earth, albeit most appeared to have already lost contact with earth already. One rather sad young lady, was almost at her wits end as she thumbed and dialled and was clearly not getting any response at all, totally convinced the world had ended, and a number of us felt she was on the brink..... Sheer relief came to her countenance when the thing flashed and beeped and a message read "C U L8 R" So I am assuming her paramour was Illiterate or Swedish or something.

A young bloke sitting opposite was watching videos on his, of him and another 3 of his friends taking it turns to fire air pistols at each other's chest for laughs, takes all sorts I suppose, another 2 men at the back were watching one of their girlfriends doing a striptease for him alone (And3,500 others as he uploaded it to youtube)... None of them appeared to be able to converse in English or anything... All were oblivious to the fact everyone else was accessing it all as well.whatever happened to privacy I wonder ? exposing your total idiocy for the planet to peruse is apparently a way of life.

It has saddened those of us who assumed with 6 billion living on this rock spinning nowhere, there MUST be someone of depth, with something useful to impart, who isn't obsessed with total trivia ? sadly it appears not...

Remains of the Day (Xmas that is)...

2010-12-25T11:07:00.001-08:00

I still think Xmas is an acceptable form of water-boarding but... I've spent all day faffing about online today with no joy, which is unsusual for me, there is usually somone I could annoy....

Nearly every present my son had came in a glitzy and rather large box, which only opened to reveal an 'code number' and if lucky, and CD as well and otherwise empty.. He had half a dozen techno presents. An ipod 'touch' which was about the size of a fingernail and no-one without 20-20 vision should ever entertain buying. The instructions (Which came by the yard or metre and a bit in every language except welsh), said to log in to itunes and download your favourite tunes, and was thoughtfully accompanied by a voucher or card thing for £15.

I duly logged in and it said "Your current itune application is out of date, we don't do 78s any more, please download the latest version, yours is out of date..." SO ? how often do deaf log in to download music anyway...?. I duly followed like a lamb to the slaughter, and located said download and the blurb said "Please wait a few minutes", which as anyone knows who has ever used MS or apple, and used to plain english, usually means a good hour, give and take.

Then the bluddy thing asked me if I wanted Ping (?), quick something or other, safari, and another useless and no doubt pointless download, so I respectfully pushed the 'thanks but no way jose' button and it wouldn't compute or something, do computers sulk ? mine did. Itunes nowt else geddit ?

I was pleasantly surprised it only took 39 minutes, (not counting another 9 for it it 'initialise/set up' whatever that means. Then I connected said new ipod so they could synchoronise, specialise it, paint it green, launch it to pluto, or whatever it needed to do. 5 attempts were refused, the 6th they said grdudgingly OK but.... half way at least. I looked at the itunes card and it said scratch the back, quote the number, but itunes said it didn't know me, or the number, or didn't want to or something, still sulking cos I wouldn't download the rest of the gubbins, and I had to register first anyway.

The registration process took 45 minutes (They said 4), but when I tried to download a tune it said "Sorry we are unable to process your order because its xmas, and half the planet had bought ipods and were all trying to download at the same time, so could I try again in 2013, so I said OK. One down, next up was 'leapfrog' Which is a sort of hand-held educational thingy someone brought my son to help him learn to spell and talk a bit more.

Same thing, go online register, yeah yeah, I get the idea.... another 56 minutes wasted of my life... only to find registering was all it would do, apparently the hand held thingy only has a basic 'paint' program on it, my son wanted games of course, like it said on the box, but it said that'd cost me more money again, another one for 2013 I think.

I foned sister she said "Yeah right same here 6 empty boxes and a mass of codes and online instructions which is fortunate as we have a computer, I can't be arsed either, going to go on the cooking sherry instead... these online things are like ice-cream makers, and fondue dips or brevils, we buy them stuff 'em out of sight forget them.. my cupboard is breeding the bloody things...

These online download things will be the same mark my words.... Another two presents duly opened were two 'talking/spelling books..", again, please go online to download permission to hear what is being said, (Chance would be a fine thing), Having thus gained permission via emptying the rubbish bin for the codes I'd thrown away with the wrapping, nothing happened. "Have you plugged in your scriber ?" wot ? no scriber I said only two books... "Sorry you must have a scriber and the application CD or it won't work.." so why the blimmin 'eck sell two books without one ? another for 2014 I think, that's 3 presents down, none of which will operate.

Bugger it, why open the other 3 presents ? they are bound to say the same thing... I got a computer it still won't work, soddit, it's the busy-ist day of the year and nothing is working or is overloaded anyway...and I bought enough batteries to power Battersea as well, thinking I was clever........

The turkey was drier than the Kalahari desert basically, the sprouts dutifully mushed but the stuffing looked OK, and the chargrilled veggies great, except they weren't meant to be chargrilled but I'd spent so much time online faffing about. The honey - glazed parsnips were OK, except I didn't have any honey so tried apple sauce instead, so long as you had 3 or 4 brandies first, it tasted OK......

We threw scraps down for the cat she didn't want to know either.... I'm past caring frankly, I stocked up on wine so whatever it is, the taste will be meaningless. Son of, was unimpressed with half his presents on hold for the next year or so, and was viewing the dinner, with some trepidation too, and asked for pot noodles instead, I said I 'd join him, who needs Christmas anyway ?

I started to open my own presents more in hope, than realistic appreciation there would be anything remotely of use to me, socks here, after-shave there, bugger it, why open the other ? it's bound to be slippers, gloves, or a bluddy Diary, when did I EVER use a Diary ? or anyone for that matter ? Organic Sat-navs for those who don't know what day it is... I expect there is an iphone application for it... I doubt they will be able to download it this year though....

There is always TV I suppose, if you like soap operas (I don't), most of the time I have been watching DIY SOS for laughs on some god-forsaken SKY repeat channel, anyone wants shabby chic floorboards I'm an expert now.... all you do is buy rather expensive floorboard, whack 'em with an 'ammer then paint over them... charge the customer treble or something....my son hates cartoons and that's all they were showing or something. so that's me out, back to the booze then , XMAS ? humbug...

Getting that C-Factor

2010-09-08T12:55:00.000-07:00

Wot is the C-Factor ? Well for those un-initiated in the great and good of the charitable works in our fair country, it is the 'cutting edge' way now of selling charity by begging, to the miserable and complaining masses who are kept told to Give, Give and Give even more by a plethora of nere-do-wells in pin-stripe suits for the poor and deserving in our fair if rather strange country U of K. who on first site make estate agents and second car salesmen look the hight of respectability.

One deaf group who should be nameless and then some, having failed to coerce us on the street with their souped up and strangely sober student salespeople, have now switched online to Facebook or Twitter (Or even both barrels aimed at your head), to screw as much dosh as you can spare before the tax man takes it all. They will follow you (As long as there is a buck in it for them). The latest wheeze is for CEO's of profile charities (Mostly failed politicians who are kicked up and out, or sacked from proper organisations), who deign to join Twitter of Facebook for an complete HOUR so you can regail how marvellous they are for begging on your behalf, regardless if you haven't asked them to do it, it provides work after all (Mostly for them).

Not to be outdone one charity CEO took it a step further and set up a Twitter 'fanzine' site for herself, and offered signed pictures, (All completely modest, no bums and tits there thank heaven's), and 10 minutes real-time (Subject to finishing her starter course first), of interaction during her lunch break once a month so the 'little people' don't feel left out. This is inclusion in action and in real time (Assuming you are the 1 in 12 people without a brain cell tuned in to this crap). You won't get that with a plumber (OR a plumber for that matter). Currently they are compiling an who is who, and who bluddy cares anyway, of profile charity executives who have saved the minorities from themselves and the tax payer a small fortune by taking the lions share of funds for their own wages, and telling them to pull themselves together for god's sake and get a bluddy grip.

The C factor, has your fave charity got it ? Such is the arrogance of these people they no longer seek royal trustees and such but push themselves instead and attend every fridge opening that occurs. Royals and Celebs are out, sorry Mr Fry even you are.... charity CEO's are IN.

Unreality...

2010-07-08T09:42:00.001-07:00

The Americans once did a reality show with 40 American kids cast away on a deserted island somewhere, such a brilliant idea, but why stop there ? we could send 650 egotistical morons, from that building near the Thames for say... 20 years to the North Pole, and see if they can generate enough hot air to keep themselves warm.

The UK are bereft of any decent ideas for reality TV, mainly because it involves the effort of sitting in considerable discomfort unable to find the remote..... I suggest doing X-factor meets the NHS, where you'd get assorted patients wandering in with delusions, and paranoias, and a panel of on-call consultants will vote, cogitate and perhaps take a little extra marzipandichloride (250mg per 1 kilo in weight, at 15 minute intervals), while downing copious pints of 190% proof surgical Alcohol, to decide who gets referred to a psychiatric unit for the next round, where the top prize, is being sectioned to an institution of your choice, and you also get a choice of designer, rubber wallpaper, maybe even the DIY SOS crew will come and do it up for you, the issue would only be, if they would let them out again, so you could get stuck with them.

We can do a series of "So you think you are an undertaker ?" and suggest modern retail methods of upping your customer base, how to recycle the coffins and re-use fittings, getting a 500% return, why melt them down ? the scrap value is poor these days. How about coin in the slot cremation ? a drive in ? It will cut out the middle man.

"Who is the biggest idiot online on Twitter ?" (we will have to exempt Stephen Fry or he'd win every time), he's attended more fridge openings than Iceland. Talking about Iceland , (I am meandering a bit as is my wont), first the bloody country goes bankrupt, then they set bloody fire to it, anyone smell an insurance scam here ?

With the UK's daytime TV deep in the brown stuff with property and antique porn programming, we could do Dickinson's real deal meets Casualty Dept, but turn off the colour first or his tan will blind you.. We'd get experts from the recently struck off register, to value your heart or kidney collection, e.g. "interesting, bright green, yellowy and fatty in places, cholesterol content 150%, high alcoholic content, probably, (almost certainly I would say), early Irish ? Manchester ? 1960s? Can't be certain, you need a specialist but it may be one of Georgie Best's early cast-offs, (not Gazza's it's too recent for that...), quite common, not worth much, I can offer you threepence, but your best bet is to go to auction, dozens of them around, football shape, although if you find the rarer oblong ones, with the studs in, and signed by Pete Stringyfellow, they can be worth up to 17 shillings and fourpence, rather typical of the period, in the 'Irish' style (Dublin Guinness Pattern), as we in the trade call it, value ? very little, about 3 hours if inserted, tell you what I'll do, I'll double whatever you can get for it at the car boot sale."

"NOW ! this IS interesting ! a mis-diagnosed lethal infection ! and you've had it 5 years ? contracted in Zambaluza in the Upper Congo ,(Mumbopo Delta region possibly), that's amazing, and it just gave the odd twinge ? I'd say it's a real find, and worth a consultant paper or two, you'd get I would estimate, about £800 - £900 in a specialist sale, maybe a lot more if they get phone bids in from the ambulance chasers too, set reserve of say, oooooh £450, to tempt them in... you could create a world epidemic first with this. I think it'll fly, ( I doubt you will, or whether you'll be able to spend the money in time, but ....).."

Reality in the UK is knowing Alzheimers set in years ago.... I think, can't remember actually...

Church Howlers

2010-02-17T02:10:00.001-08:00

The Fasting and Prayer Conference includes meals.
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The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: 'Searching for Jesus.'
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Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
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Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
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Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
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Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
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For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
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Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
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Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
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A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall.. Music will follow.
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At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice ..
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Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
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Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
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Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
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The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
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Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
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The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
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This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
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Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
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The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
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Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
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The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
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Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church.. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
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The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours.'

Happy New Year

2010-01-02T08:59:00.001-08:00

Yuss !

Bugger......

The Xmas 2009 Blog

2009-12-15T12:00:00.000-08:00

Lacy things -- the wife is missin',
Didn't ask -- her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

In the store -- there's a teddy,
Little straps -- like spaghetti,
It holds me so tight,
Like pink handcuffs at night,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

(A bit of ambient music for you, you have to imagine a bit of snow falling, and the vice squad in sequins..).

OK, so my local and occasionally social club, has a weird sense of humour, but it IS the once a year extravaganza... Christmas, a time when people you have managed to avoid all year, bear down on you like lemmings on a suicide mission, and your dog needs false teeth. We all have to endure/enjoy/avoid as is our yearly penchant, it is of course the Xmas party again.

Not in an office, I've not attended an office party since 1995, mainly because I didn't own a white shirt until 2003, and only then because a relative died, and it sets off a black tie quite well so they tell me. Not as if I'd seen him in 40 years I didn't like him then why would I like him now.... "A lovely, friendly, and well respected man, who was loved by all..." Not by me he never bought a round, just hopes his wife never finds out how popular he was really... and why did his kids leave home at 6 ? Vacation my arse.... It's been 36 years now...

What to wear ? you have to enter into the spirit of things, although most are under the influence of spirits well before they turn up. I could put a bit of Holly on my hat, or a mini Santa that drops his trousers if people stare too close, that one that pisses all over you is my favourite...

At the party here will be the usual exchange of pleasantries, "Haven't seen you since....", (Last week ? yesterday ? 1962 ? since Queen Victoria and Brian Epstein were on the throne ?), we'll be greeted like lost long relatives, aka "Can I have that £20 you owe me now please ?", and "My son looks VERY much like you, are you sure you've never met the wife...?" etc, then we'll sojourn to light refreshments, which in my case, (and to get swiftly into the Xmas party mood), will be an unusual, but quite cheeky half of Carling BL lager, with an umbrella, an olive, a mars bar, and half a pineapple in, (but in a coloured glass), MM knows how to party....

In the office there's a guy named Melvin,
He pretends that I am Murphy Brown.
He'll say, "Are you ready?" I'll say,"Whoa, Man!"
"Let's wait until our wives are out of town!"

This year we hope to avoid the misunderstandings we had last year with the Xmas presents, the scar still hasn't healed properly, but only shows if I am sunbathing and you are staring where you shouldn't, (it's why my knee is never sunburned). Basically we all buy a present each, expence is not limited (Anything up to a quid), wrap them up so no-one knows who it is from, give them all a raffle ticket free each and randomly stick them on the presents, surprise surprise doesn't really cut it... half the wrappings covers an empty box, or a tin of Sainsbury baked beans as usual.

Albeit we had to call the bomb squad last year after someone put an alarm clock in one parcel, complete with battery, at least we think it was an alarm clock, funny shape if you ask me...... did look a bit like a rabbit with ADHD.... This yearly debacle is usually the best time to unload the crap they gave out last year, and to get your own back on the clown that wrapped a sink plunger in one parcel, and a 6 month supply of Visual Viagra, (which consisted mainly of pin up pictures of Harry Lauder and George Bush's poodle), and yet another who took immense trouble to wrap up two bags of cat litter, then changed the label to Muesli and Oats, obviously someone disgruntled at the previous years present, (I don't have a cat what else was I to do with it ?).

Our club pioneered recycling in S.Wales, some presents have done the rounds for 16 years.... We also get the various tinned sweets and stuff, with 1985 sell-by dates still doing the rounds. They'll be auctioned on TV's Antique Roadshow next year..

Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress -- like Madonna,
Put on some eyeshade,
And join the parade,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!

Then we fight over who sits where, usually the committee sits at the top table, so you know your place, but owing to the fact most of my members have been hospitalized, found an analyst, or gone to meet the grim reaper on a sale or return basis, I am honoured this year to sit nearer the top table, another 10 snuff it, I'm there....pole position...

That will be swiftly followed by the start of usual, and obligatory and endless complaints about the food, "I didn't ask for Xmas pudding in a chicken soufflé' , it sticks my dentures together..", or, "I'm Venezuelan, I don't eat meat, just Mexicans, have you nutty carrot crumble and parsnip soup instead ? light on the soya bean..", or maybe, "I'm a diabetic, have you anything green I can eat ? and a chair near the toilet ?"...

Now everyone hates turkey, since bird flu was the vogue, and they managed a draw with Man United, so they're stickin' to chicken'...... what the hell ARE those tiny sausages for ? My suggestion next year, we go to a chip shop or Chinese takeaway, was viewed rather scathingly I have to admit, "Xmas dinner is traditional !", traditionally an event to argue yet again over for the next 12 months, to get over the fact your long lost relatives didn't stay lost long enough, and found you despite you not giving them a forwarding address, damn Google.....and then to plan next year's abysmal failure to celebrate the coming of the Messiah...... (you can see why he ascended can't you ? couldn't get out quick enough).

Mrs Davis said she was cooking us all a surprise this year "It's a 3 in 1", she says "Bratwurst, inside a cheese sandwich, inside reindeer..", she's been watching cookery shows (Or how the Germans in Berlin survived during 1919, we're not sure)...

Lacy things... missin',
Didn't ask... permission,
Wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

We might do some games this year... pin the tail on the donkey last year was not the success we hoped it would be, (there was silicon and stale pee everywhere last time), and someone complained the RSPCA would not be amused at us abusing a dumb animal, but Mrs Carter has A-Levels, and a degree in absurdity......we might do 'musical chairs' this year, if we can find a sign language interpreter for Mrs Hill and the other 5 quite deaf ladies, who just sat down, and never got up when the music started or stopped, so missed the point somewhat.

We're stuck with disability act this year too, but how to include Mr Jones in the game when he is already in a wheelchair is bit of problem, perhaps we can make him stand up when the music stops to even it out a bit In line with the disability act, we can't reward winners, so as not to upset anyone. We might have to hire a dozen wheelchairs so he isn't left out, attend a class about disability empowerment, and pay two carers to lift him on and off when the music starts up....

We tried 'pass the parcel', but it was a failure last year, someone over wrapped the toothpaste and it took 3 hours to get to it, a few of the older members needed oxygen, and it's not as if many had teeth anyway is it ? Andy McKano wants us to do the Hoki-Koki again, but last year he put his left leg in, and his right leg, right out, and we needed the full compliment of imperial size spanners to get him going again....

"Walkin' 'round ...in women's...... underwear."

Encore more music maestro !

Have yourself an eco-friendly Xmas,
Let your trees be green,
From now on,
your carbon-friendly footprint's low....
Buy yourself, a solar powered wristwatch
get to work on time
Only use it when the weather's fine....
Never in the winter...... time....

Have a merry Xmas 'y'all (in case some American drops in, you never know)...

MM

Memories of an old welsh fart...

2009-12-08T00:59:00.000-08:00

We met at nine. We met at eight.
I was on time. No, you were late.
Ah yes! I remember it well.

We're up to here in rain, floods and cold windy weather, let it snow, let it snow, let it blow.......not ! Bring on again, those lazy, hazy, crazy, days of yesteryear, Your real summers, before global warming changed the script, when in July and August the sun shined and we all went to the seaside for excitement, perhaps to Aberafon to brave the rust polluted sea there, and look at the bearded lady before the rights people bought her a razor, we'd play football till the sun was long gone, our ice creams melting before you could eat them in the scorching heat, strawberry and sand milk shakes were all the rage....

Remember when sunburn was good for you? and stuffing blind worms, frogs, or newts, down girls blouses was the accepted norm, and not cue for a legion of social workers to turn up at your door with the police to publicise you on the pervert listings.... and give the Daily Mail a few front page inches...

what about those real winters ? we had proper snow then, but it never stopped traffic like it does today, because if we didn't get to work we never got any wages, so 20ft drifts were no deterrent, and it was always the right snow when we had it. snow piled so high you could scarcely see out the window, (which was a blessing really, because our outhouse toilet door didn't shut properly). We had an autumn too, except the leaves only feel to the ground in straight lines... and avoided the railway like the plague... Dr Beeching was not a bloke you wanted to cross really...

Happy carefree times, a time when all your neighbours used to say hello in the morning, and whistle on their way to work, like the 7 dwarfs with a growth impairment....those that had teeth did anyway, the others did various degrees of dribble.... a bore da from them of a morning tested most friendships...... Of course, that time was different for all us, so I've covered a good few years to try and ensure that I've captured the "good old days", as I remember them before senility, a labour government, and daytime TV set in.

Those crazy and carefree days when Jordan was a river in the middle east, and not an over-inflated, egotistical, money-grabbing bimbo overdosing on Botox, when the only X factor was that wonder washing powder, that beat the shit out of DAZ and your clothes ironed themselves on the washing line, before flouncing off down the high street singing "Oh happy days..."

I'm sure you've all heard about how your grandparents used to go to the cinema, drink 14 pints and still had enough change out of two shillings, to buy a huge newspaper full of fish and chips... and never put a centimetre on the waistline... maybe 10 inches but never centimetres. Sadly, not everything has changed, except two bob is nearer 30 quid now, beer is undrinkable, fit for only taste-deprived 9yr old children, and we're reduced to downing copious pints of lager in the vain hope if we sink 25 of those we can get a rough idea what not to drink, and regain that warming memory of when beer really meant beer (What happened to Mackeson stout, that's what I want to know !)..

Cod fish don't exist any more or they have all gained foreign names, gone European, emigrated to Beijing, or poisoned to buggery by acid rain...our sixpenny Saturday matinée films then were a lot tamer too, just the occasional 3 stooges who spent hour after hour hitting each other on the head with hammers, shovels, picks, poking people in the eye with broom handles, smashing plate glass over their heads, used electric drills to ventilate each other's brains, or pushed each other into the path of steamrollers, good, clean and harmless fare, not like the violent stuff kids get these days.

great times when us Brits really felt wealthy, when we had 240 pennies in a pound, and paper money was a real novelty, not the endangered species it is now, with "I promise to pay the bearer... ", and a photo of Gordon Brown sniggering on it, and bankers wiping their arse on them....... Our metal money never used to have so many corners on either.... mind you all those coppers, gave you a limp when you went out shopping, so you had to balance it out in each pocket, and had to hold your trousers up until you spent it all, that's why we wore braces as back up years ago.

I once ended up in hospital with 7 stitches at one evening charity street parade, where us kids used to throw our pennies onto the passing lorries, and I got 50ps worth, 16 army buttons, and a bent half crown on the noggin.... still, I made I profit... and dined out on wagon wheels, Lush bars, and smoked 4 dominoe cigarettes for sixpence... before it became a hanging offence.

I can also recall, when music used to sound like music, when songs had a rhythm and you could hear the words, who can forget 'Nut Rocker ?' (I tried....), and "By a babbling brook, near a shady nook, that's where I tripped and fell in poo....", or "tra-la-lal-lal-lal-la-lee, oooh ohh", or "they're coming to take me away ha-ha, hee-hee, ho-ho", by a 7ft tall contralto called Tiny Tim, on day release, with a daffodil up his bum....

When any guitar player who knew more than 3 chords was called a show-off, and lost all street cred.... Did you know the minor chords (Diminished 7ths), were the secret to the Beatles success ? they left the rest for Status Quo, and the troggs.

Superior singing artists that sang about pied-purple people eaters, and trashed hotel rooms, Amy Warehouse simply isn't in the same class (Or on the same planet so they tell me..). OK she looks after bird-life with the hair style, and Bill Oddie buys all her CD's but, it was all sheer melody and inspired song-writing, hardly surpassed, in my day, even by that deaf bloke, Beethoven, him that lugged pianos around for a living, but couldn't finish a symphony properly..

I used to enjoy that chart topper he done, that went, "mein lieber-ling! mein lieber-ling!, I Vant you to play mitt mein lieber-ling." (Or was that Halley Berry ?), but he still made it, and how many of today's artists can do that even after dying, except Elvis, Caruso, and Rod Stewart. Should they have told Beethoven, his unfinished symphony sounded more like a herd of elephants, stampeding and trampling over the keyboards ? or that Bernie Strauss and his hot 40, had written the same thing years ago ?

Oh ! the good old days.....

What Katie REALLY did next

2009-11-25T03:05:00.001-08:00

Nuff said.....

The Kidz are allright

2009-11-20T10:13:00.000-08:00

What they say....

1) This is a picture of an octopus. It has eight testicles. (Kelly age 6)

2) Oysters' balls are called pearls. (James age 6)

3) If you are surrounded by sea you are an Island . If you don't have sea all round you, you are incontinent.( Wayne age 7)

4) Sharks are ugly and mean, and have big teeth, just like Emily Richardson.
She's not my friend no more. (Kylie age 6)

5) A dolphin breaths through an arsehole on the top of its head.(Billy age 8)

6) My dad goes out in his boat, and comes back with crabs.

7) When ships had sails, they used to use the trade winds to cross the ocean. Sometimes, when the wind didn't blow, the sailors would whistle to make the wind come. My brother said they would be better off eating beans.(William age 7)

8) I like mermaids. They are beautiful, and I like their shiny tails. How do mermaids get pregnant? (Helen age 6)

9) I'm not going to write about the sea. My baby brother is always screaming and being sick, my Dad keeps shouting at my Mum, and my big sister has just got pregnant, so I can't think what to write. (bless )

10) Some fish are dangerous. Jellyfish can sting Electric eels can give you a shock. They have to live in caves under the sea where I think they have to plug themselves into chargers. (Christopher age 7)

11) When you go swimming in the sea, it is very cold, and it makes my willy small. (Kevin age 6)

12) Divers have to be safe when they go under the water. Two divers can't go down alone, so they have to go down on each other.
(Becky age 8)

13) On holiday my Mum went water skiing. She fell off when she was going very fast. She says she won't do it again because water shot up her fanny. (Julie age 7).

It's a Fiks

2009-11-20T09:07:00.001-08:00

It has to be said.....

2009-11-19T11:02:00.001-08:00

UN-Believable!

2009-10-31T02:06:00.000-07:00

Russia Today Health and Safety not an issue there obviously...

Eat less Veg

2009-10-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

I'm fed up being chastised (Nagged even), about eating meat, like it is my fault cows are blasting methane into the stratosphere, in between dumping shit around by the half-ton...do I eat grass ? no ! DO cows ? YES ! Do I use up half my bloody carbon footprint skimming my milk first, NO ! Do health freaks ? YES ! and they buy water that is free from the tap, and uses more resources than even mother nature can drum up... Do I sit down to a Sunday meal and carve up a Bloody Nut Roast ? like buggery do I ! (Mostly I'm out cold after 12 pints and a takeaway anyway)..

Fat in butter and food, is a NATURAL by-product, why oppose nature ? we're always told to eat only natural foods, that's what I do, it's got to be better than homogenized,sterilized, with added Carbon 60, and frozen to the nth degree first, with enough additives to offer Iran a nuclear deterrent for £2.50p.... I buy grub it's got bluddy traffic lights printed on it, there is no way cheddar can get a driving licence. More carbonized footprints gone down the polluted Swanee. They use enough plastic to wrap it, that it will longer to degrade than strontium 90...

When they dig us all up in year 3010, the radioactivity will be gone, but the chocolate egg wrapping will still be there. If we want a healthier and fitter Britain then let us eat Vegetarians, it makes total sense, Cows are vegetarians, I'll eat them and feel proud to be doing my best to save the planet. More grass left over for the Veggies we leave too....

Advice to the impaired lovelorn...

2009-10-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

MM's new advice column to the loverlorn, fed up, and part-time hearing impaired.

Where would you go for the silver lining to hearing loss? You could try U3A News, the magazine of the University of the Third Age, where third agers - normally retired people - or those who knit to pass the time, go to learn.

An U3A member wrote in one issue of this fine journal, "There can be considerable advantages in hearing loss. You can 'go deaf' and be excused when volunteers are required for horrible jobs. Have you ever had your home filled with smelly jumble or served on committees where nothing is ever achieved? (AND SOME !), and when the local hypochondriac waylays you, don't even make an effort to listen.

Just stick a sympathetic smile on your face and plan your menu while they witter on." People who live successfully with hearing loss must develop the ability to laugh at their mistakes. This helps to make family, friends and fellow-workers feel more at ease. Using self-deprecating humour to relieve tension and laughing with others is an expression of kinship or social bonding, not too much they might think you are Ronald Macdonold's stand in.. and go for the Mega Brunch option.

So laugh and the world laughs with you.... (No they aren't laughing AT you, get a grip)... Some positive aspects of hearing loss are....

You find you don’t hear what you used to pretend you didn’t hear.

Your friends will trust you with a secret. But then, you probably didn’t hear it in the first place.

People appreciate that they don’t have to talk about you behind your back, as long as they keep smiling while they face you, and have a sock in their mouth, you're none the wiser.

You can't hear your partner snoring anymore.

If your home is under the flight path of a major airport, or alongside a motorway.

If the teenager next door digs hard rock with 18-inch speakers.

When you are asked to mow the lawn, wash the car, paint the living room, take out the bins, etc. Everyone says what good listener you are.

Let the Gods grant us the laughter to see the past with perspective, to face the future with hope, and to celebrate today, without taking ourselves too seriously. Train yourself to be more optimistic by pinpointing your negative thinking and replacing it with a positive, can-do, not can't-do, philosophy.

Smile and laugh as much as possible. Watch funny movies, avoid TV, you're far too intelligent for that... Let us promote a day of FUN, and give us all at least one day's rest from the grinding navel contemplations of the fact we can't hear, and the view everyone hates us.... or at least wants to make us as miserable as they are

Good Old GP...

2009-10-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

"Gather round men.. look lively now...this is it...you've all been briefed, watches synchronised ? the objective clear ? good, Lads, I won't tell you any lies, some of us, maybe all, may not make it... the enemy is guarding the gate, and we have to open it, whatever it takes, the lives of thousands of fellow countrymen will depend on tonight... good luck.....

It's attending the Dr's again of course... a journey and event fraught with daring and much devillng to do... what a depressing place, taking beige to a new art form isn't easy fair play... but it's populated with a wild assortment of local Taffy-kind, coughing, wheezing and generally doing their earnest bit to spread the bubonic plague as is their want.

Some are loaded down with enough medication to cure the 3rd world, then again this IS the 3rd world now...I approach the counter, heavily bedecked, and fortified with notices about what your GP won't do for you, and a price list that resembles Patagonia's national debt. E.G, Have YOU weighed yourself lately ? erm... not really, there's not that many scales can take the weight... Have YOU taken 10,000 steps today ? no bloody fear I gasp, what do you think I am stupid or something, ? It's a bit late at my age going for the burn, I can just about manage tepid...

This is the health service (Why do they call it a HEALTH service ? people only go there when they're sick), and yet another poster in 200 languages which says primary care is only for the immigrants, had I stumbled onto the set of league of gentlemen ? They will provide access for every nation on the planet in their own language, and even Neptunian if that is your preference, but the bottom line is not today thank you if you live around the corner.

"What do you want !", I pale and tremble in fear, a snarling voice comes from apparently nowhere in particular, I look around and behind the frosted glass, public enemy number one emerges, the Surgery secretary, "erm...", " c'mon ! c'mon !", she shouts, "I haven't got all day, try and make an urgent appointment, I haven't had many laughs today.... the place is full of sicko's as it is and we're choc-a-bloc for the next millenium, and the Doc as a round of golf later so......", ". erm.. no I already HAVE an appointment, "Lucky sod..", some voice from behind me opined, "I've been here 4 weeks and no luck... my grandchildren won't know me".

"What TIME is your appointment ?", the voice from the grave shouted again, "Erm.. about 15 minutes", I said. "Can you come back in an hour ?" she said, "The Doctor is on a call..", I said "Sorry it's freezing out there, can I wait here ?" "This isn't a doss house, but, OK .."she said.. but no messing about , and don't touch the pens...we've CCTV now.."

I sit down, there's more life in a funeral parlour than here, there's a TV on, which is showing for some reason no-one can really explain, foetus's running about and jumping about, and even some climbing up mountains and rock climbing, YOU could be as active as these people if.... a voice drones from the set, no I couldn't ! you're kidding aren't you ? why not show someone in a wheelchair being pulled up Mont Blanc or something or an 90yr old granny going for the burn, not exactly role modeling is it..

That over, I rather blushed a bit, because I thought someone had switched to a porn channel, it was lithe and lively 16yr olds wearing little but a smile and some god-awful noisy dirge in the background while they all flashed their norty bits at us, and did acrobatics that should be banned in full view of minors. It was obviously for the mathematically illiterate as they could only count 1..2..3 and ? then did it over and over again, "It's FOUR " I shouted, "for god's sake...FOUR !! are you thick or what ??!?!" All that excersize affects your maths, so it's a good job I never did it...

An old boy next to me said "What's it saying ?", he was deaf in one ear he said and didn't hear in the other... I asked the secretary could she turn the set up a bit as he didn't understand what was being said, "Why does HE watch it then ?" she said "Is he weird or something...?". "What about subtiles ?", I said, "He could read it then.."WE don't do extras.." she said "He's here to get treatment not watch the bloddy TV", "So why have a TV set ?" I said... she turned it up so the windows rattled.... "Why can't the idiot get a hearing aid or something..." she mumbled... "every morning I get at least one who is ill and wasting my valuable time, anyone would think that's all we are here for...."

A Soap for all Seasons

2009-10-20T11:49:00.000-07:00

Bubbles A soap opera for the 21st century... The story so far.....

At the Funky Firkin Bistro, Claire has piles, lots of them, and Arthur, suspects George is gay, when he finds a picture of Elton John, on his loofah.

Mrs Gripfelt the cleaner, finds her hidden and secret life as a transvestite and part-time go-go dancer at Harry's Emporium and part-time funeral parlour, is exposed, this time without the rubber underwear, when a passing mourner spots her in action at the crematorium.

Diana is left in a daze, after a break in at her flat, when she arrives home to find they have stolen her entire collection of leg hair, and 3 years back issues of Cosmo.
Arnold, sees red, Mary sees a psychiatrist, Larry sees the light.... yesssss lord.....!

Meanwhile, at Ballcock Fields Surgery, Dr Whippemoff, has bad news for Nigel, or is it, Mary? At the supermarket, John is arrested, for exposing his fried rice....and Angela's secret tryst with Graham, gets off to a hilarious start.

Fred gets drunk yet again, gets hit by a passing dray horse... and has to be rushed to hospital for an emergency horseshoerectomestocatomy, Gilda is NOT amused, she tries, she just doesn't get the punch lines.... Colin (Colin ?), finds his credit card refused when he tries to draw out money to buy Harriet (Bluddy 'ell who's Harriet ?), a surprise present.

The surprise now, is she doesn't get one... (who IS Colin ? we demand to know...). Bubbles Nite Klub opens it's door for the first time to customers, which has helped a lot because they couldn't get in before, and Charles awaits the result of the test, with trepidation, a Romanian grease monkey...

The new waitress Bonca, the Albanian resident temptress, is seen making eyes at Herbert, and all hell breaks loose when Herbert's wife, Selena catches her in the act... and then demands to see her credentials.. Carmen decides enough is enough (And not before time). Alice is horrified to find she is pregnant again... and demands to know how it has happened from a puzzled Ronald.... he's 98 in an Iron Lung, and hasn't felt anything since 1941....

George's second cousin on his mother's side, phones up to inform him, his brothers are really his sister's uncles, in a rage, he furiously demands they return the Xmas cards.... Harriet's dog Wyff, is at it again, this time it's Clive's hamsters.... and will Stephanie discover the truth about Nigel ? (Does the Pope drive panzers?).

Don't miss the next episode... It'll make half the sense this has...

The Disability tale...

2009-10-16T09:03:00.001-07:00

Taken from a disability site...... (Cleaned up for the normals.....)

Message 1: The Topic: the scenario:

A man dies the day before his medical to ascertain if he is eligible for an disability allowance. His friend and other mate, decide to take him anyway. They carry him in to see the doctor and put him on the floor. "Hes dead !", says the polish doctor. (see they do look at you and they know about these things!), but anyway, as the man refused to answer any questions or take part in the medical, he was awarded zero points, so made ineligible for an disability allowance.

His friends duly take him for his work focused interview, at the job centre, and lay him on the floor. "Marks and Spencer are looking for display staff", the job-centre advisor said happily, "i think it would be a great opportunity for him." She didnt notice that he was actually dead. So they take the dead man off to M&S, making sure first he is given a shave, a haircut, and is dressed in a decent suit, a clean white shirt, and suitable silk tie.

It is a big disappointment, "But.." said the personell officer, "He cant stand," "He just needs a pole up his arse, that's all, " His friends said, so there he is to this day, looking great and earning his £64.30 minimum wage with pride, nobody will call him a scrounger or welfare cheat....but he didnt say much when he was alive, and says even less now that he is employed. Work may not make us happier, but at least we may look better....!

The responses...

Message 2. ROTFL

Message 3. That's the trouble with all these so-called "corpses". Always has been. They are just workshy and playing the death card. Cremation is too good for them.

Message 4. I know FOR A FACT that half the people claiming to be dead were climbing mountains last night. My studies at the University Of Doreen Over The Road have confirmed that loads of people get backache, but they don't all go putting stickers on their cars,and trying to grab prime parking places for free....

Message 5. Exactly ! but try telling that to the powers that be, and you'll only have to pay it back at 25p for the next 450 years. As usual, its the working class what takes the blame.

Message 6. Being dead is no excuse. If Lazarus can do it...

Message 7. Yeah ! he knuckled down and rose above it didnt he ?

Message 8. Quite, the Daily Mail should crack down on all those fakers in the crematorium, with the cost of gas these days, it's a gross abuse of the carbon footprint too, bloody scroungers.

Message 9. Dead right. They don't know they're born, these days.

Message 10. One of my DWP pamphlets states I must inform them of my death, as it is a change in circumstances which will affect my eligibility to Job seekers allowance..... will this affect my pension credits ?

Celebrity shame of Britain Awards...

2009-10-06T11:40:00.000-07:00

Ohhhhh ! and Ahhhhhh! (Let's have it again... OooooooH and Ahhhhhh! Glad to get that off me chest. So 'ere we go again wheeling out deserving adult failure to be eclipsed and humiliated by Britain's answer to visual Mogadon, and legalised euthanasia all desperate to be seen ANYWHERE... The Daily Mirror always good for a laugh if you are on your last legs, paraded a dozen genuine and real children out, to get 3 hours of max TV publicity for themselves outnumbering the poor old kids by 4 to one (It takes 4 celebs to gush over one child apparently)..

Who are these famous people we may well ask ?

Well there was that bloke what hangs about in 10 Downing Street doing his political impressions, and again rather badly, his take off as a Prime Minister (The only act he has really), didn't quite gel it has to be said, the joke about him being the best man to run the country got a few laughs but I doubt the mafia would buy a used car off him.

There were about a dozen bright young things, with their bits on show, who were famous for being famous, or for sleeping with anything that gets them headlines or kicks a football, but we didn't care about them.

Saint Carol of Vorderman, who has taken her fridge openings sideline to erstwhile unheard of and new super levels, and is famed for spending donkey's years with the most boring man in the cosmos doing spelling lessons and arithmetic on TV..

Archbishop and part-time Cookery assassinator, Mr Gor bluddy "££!££!!? don Ramsay, whose only claim to fame, besides abusing wannabee egg boilers, is he can out swear anyone in the Cookery area and most outside it too, and still evading the American Environmental Health and Tax departments I gather..

Ozzie Osborne (sadly forced to leave his headless bat at home), who thought he was still in LA, and his much operated on wife who has depleted the silicon and Botox layers to buggery, and was taking a few hours out of rehab course to cure her of persistently throwing water at people, pretending she knows about talent, and still trying to look 60 again....

Ray Winstone, who was an actor of sorts famous for his funny walk (it was that or let him speak), they decided walking was his forte.... who spoke cockney all the time or was Irish...

Arlene Phillips, world famous (I.E. If your whole life is spent on a couch watching TV except getting a life), who was famous for being a sour faced, dance judge, of ill repute, sacked for being past it, and then some.

Naomi Campell (Kindly given time off community service for the occasion), only kicked 3 people this time....

Danni Minimoggy, famous for having a singing sister with a micro-bum, and kicked out of an Australian Soap opera for attempting to sing herself. Who ever heard of a singing plank ?

Davina McCall, looking for a new job, dear GOD!!! anyone reading this PLEASE do not give her one, after boring half the population rigid with 'reality TV', If Neptune is your reality, and also for making Epping forest look Hyper....

Pete Andre, an singing has-been from 15 years ago, famous for living with the vilest publicity-seeking, female in Christendom, without a brain cell, and who STILL couldn't get any sympathy.

Torville and Dean, who strayed in off the Ice and thought they were opening Sainsbury's again...... There were about 20 others there, sadly we don't have a minus Z celebrity rating, so...Oh yeah, The kids were there too, but who needs them ? The celebs are out in force...

Get yourself noticed online

2009-09-15T11:27:00.000-07:00

8 ways to get yourself noticed

(1) Tell people how clever you are. Don't be shy about it. Hiding your light under a bushel is pointless, nobody looks there for it, and most don't know what a bushel is anyway (Give them a Google Link if they're puzzled, or quote 50 definitions to frazzle them more....)..

(2) Publish your CV online. Include how it was YOU in fact who invented the computer, manned the first space mission, nobody was deaf until YOU came along, and now YOU are the fount of all information and knowledge. Throw in your command of 200 languages and your HNC on GMTV celebrities for good measure, (Leave out that 3 month on the job experience with Eamon (Turnip) Holmes, making a good coffee and understanding what Banjaxed means won't get you far these days), play up your other degree in Guinness testing.

(3) Let people assume you're an idiot, (Don't overdo it), then regail them with your superior intellect, great fun, (gets 'em every time, reel them in LOLOL !), and who knows ? maybe Big Brother is looking for a doorstop, or another exhibitionist idiot to poke fun at. The world's your onion.. What's one more idiot amongst millions ?

(4) Brush your teeth ONLINE on youtube, a sure-fire winner, this will keep the plebs amused for month, (You could throw in combing your hair for an encore... but don't overdo it, keep 'em guessing that's the key). The sane-insane geddit ?

(5) Know your place, don't venture too far into the real world, stick with like-minded people, applaud how marvelous/stupendous, they are, who traversed the wilderness for 40 days and nights without so much as a diet coke etc, all that, just to give you yet another avenue to show your incredible comic talent, mastery of all things deaf, and your black belt in Sudoko.

(6) Frequent sites online ONLY, that will appreciate you, where you can waffle to your heart's content and even respond to yourself. If the going gets tough, the tough cut 'em out.... this ensures you always get the last word, and that word is it. Can't fail.... If it does, copy the entire Wikipedia dictionary, include it on your blog, then watch 'em run around until they spin off the planet.

(7) Poke fun at lesser mortals, that's what they're there for...they AREN'T as funny clever or amusing as you (Like you WANT competition !). If they appear too earnest or hold a differing viewpoint (How dare they !), call them whiners, no-hoper's, failures, cowards, even suggest they're erm... a few slates short on the roof, (none of which you are obviously, you're too busy waffling online, let alone have time for fixing leaky roofing). That's what the net is for isn't it ? Launch into lengthy diatribes, google around, include lots of links, plagiarize people who ARE doing/saying something worthwhile then use that to batter others. WOW ! you're a world beater without any effort involved. Deflects anyone from probing YOU too much. Light blue touch paper.....It's an art form, not everyone can do it.

(8) Retain a sense of humour, getting angry, doesn't solve much ! (You're still too good for them).

The Stepford Children

2009-09-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

I was watching TV the other day, not my usual forte but, there was nothing on but adverts for things nobody buys really, There was one that went, "Guess where we are going today kids !", some over excitable nuclear mum declares on the TV.."Where ?", squeals an equally excitable Chucky look-alike (But less appealing brat), asks.. "We're going to the FURNITURE store to look at some sofas ! woweee....", far from blank stares, and hurried telephone calls to the nearest trick cyclist, this metricated child, erupts in total delirium." "Oh my God Mumeeee ! lets go now, I can't wait to try out a recliner model A652 in pink draylon...". I expect I am probably the sole parent to suggest this is a highly unlikely scenario, and it gave me nightmares my own child may one day emulate these disturbing children, who far from looking forward to exciting quality time with Mum & Dad choosing the latest furniture, mine loves engraving his initials on mine with a screwdriver, or decorating it with felt tip pens, determined to outdo the resident cat, that sharpens his fangs and claws all down the side of it... and would rather watch DVD's in total darkness, mid-day of slaughter of the cyber pussies instead.

Not to be outdone, I am assailed with yet another unlikely television advert, whereby 3 strange children get up at 6am, wash,dress, and feed themselves (Even an enthusiastic 3 yr old), who cannot wait to start the new term at school, all because mum and Dad have forked out a third mortgage to buy them new school uniforms from George Asda or somewhere...... They're so keen on having got a new blue shirt, they get to school 3 hours early to show it off... even on a Sunday, quite ignorant that 3 yr olds don't attend junior school yet, he bounces off in his school uniform too...

I find TV quite disturbing these days, when I deign to watch it in passing. Do you think they manufacture these plastic children on a conveyor belt or what ? I'm more for realism, in that the usual response to "Hi kids let's go to a furniture dept for a day out", would more likely be met with abject derision. As for looking to themselves to start the first day of school bouncing along like demented Kangaroos over hill and dale, extolling the virtues of school uniforms, mine always insists on tearing strips out of it straight away, or risk losing his street cred, which he did last year, even rubbed mud on it on the way in to school, "If it looks new Dad, they'll bully me... I'll be an outcast, NOBODY wears new first day... or the 1st term...", or a straight forward, "I'm not wearing THAT !..." and far from him arising with the larks tr-la-la, to start the new term at school (WOT !), we have to call him 14 times to get up, and hire a team of wild horses to drag him down the stairs, kicking and screaming....

"I'm tired ! I don't feel well, I've got 30 days off for revision...", etc, anything except make an effort to go to school, not even Nike specials would induce any enthusiasm. His girl friend (or whatever they call them these days), turns up early wearing a school skirt that I'm pretty sure they don't sell in our local shops... unless that shop has "Private" painted over the doorway....she always asks to use the toilet, then returns with a face transplant, and enough make-up to decorate the entire cast of Cats, and also wearing the latest 'Goth' look, which appears to be a 21stc interpretation of Al Jolsen or something..... the shirt hanging out, bra on the outside, tie around the waist, and the skirt now acting as a neck warmer, and wearing black tights, which appear to have been a kitten's plaything prior to her wearing it...they then both go out with their lunch boxes of healthy fare, and empty them in the nearest dustbin, having demanded a couple of quid for crisps, a cider, and 20 cigarettes instead.

You get the reverse scenario when they return home, the change to respectability, so her Mum won't know, her daughter has been solicited 3 times, and warned by the police for it...... of course they all are determined to be sent home the first day, there's a book being run on it. Will Baz's holiday tattoo 'teechers are fik', get first place ? or Shazza's belly piercing, with the cow bell and a novelty penis as a clapper attached ? or, Nog's triangular hair cut in 5 shades of green, with a complete representation of the London underground map engraved on his head get it ? He seems to be favourite this year... but don't ask where Buckingham Palace is on it, he only washes once a year, you would never find it...

Dining Out

2009-09-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

At a dinner the other night, (My partner only wants to be seen with me then, so she can blame poor lighting), I saw some bloke listing the calorie count of the food, comparing it with an nutritional dictionary he had downloaded to his mobile phone come NASA simulator, even drawing the waiter's attention to the fact the cutlery was placed incorrectly, completely mis-aligning his Fang Shui, spoiling his soup....and giving him bad Karma for the next 5 years at least. This curious encounter was explained to me by a woman sitting opposite.

"He's MS", she said.... I nodded in sympathy, replying "Poor dab, an illness greatly misunderstood isn't it ? do you have to watch what you eat with that as well ? ", trying to pass the time socially... She laughed "NO !!!! he isn't ill, he's metrosexual..", and dissolved into hysterics laughing at my apparent ignorance. I thought I was broad minded, couldn't quite grasp the humour element, what they do in the privacy of their own home isn't my business is it indeed ? until my partner (Who swears by Woman's Own), explained it to me in considerable and rather boring length between choosing courses.

"If you didn't tap away on that computer, writing complete nonsense, and read a paper, or watched a TV to keep up to date occasionally, I wouldn't have to sit here being embarrassed to death, by your tales of the Workmen's Institute, Mackeson stout, and John Lennon... nobody under 50 understands a word you are saying, but everyone KNOWS what a metrosexual is", "Is it someone who likes sex on trains ....?", I offered.... " NO ! Metrosexual is an urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle, and happy with his feminine side,". "Well I never, really, I NEVER" I said... "Does his wife know about this bit on the side ?" I'm a valley boyo me, more than 1 bath a week, you didn't dare go out on the street..... aesthetic ? isn't that what you have when you go to the dentists ? I'll stay awake in future, in case they remove more than a tooth, or I start talking up an octave or three...

I mean this bloke checked his reflection in the restaurant mirror at least three times. Surely once is enough ? I've never looked at my reflection, I don't have one... "A mexicosexual..", my partner explained (The cheap plonk is settling in...), "is a straight man who styles his hair using three different products, and actually calls them "products", loves clothes and the very act of shopping for them, (LOVES shopping ? naahhh he aint a man!), and describes himself as sensitive and romantic." "To himself probably," I said "what women wants a bloke who keeps stealing her make up, criticizes her dress sense, and got a smaller bum than they have ? suicide innit ?"

"So he's a Mummy's boy ? A Transvestical ?", I countered, "No ! In other words, he is NOTHING like YOU !! He is a man who seems stereotypically gay, except, when it comes to sexual orientation he wears a cravat, not a tie, has a Brazilian, (He goes for South American girls ?) and shaves his legs. "Alexa Hackbarth (Who ?) wrote, 'Vanity, Thy Name Is Metrosexual', in the Washington Post, November 17, 2003." 'Dew, " I said, "I thought Woman's Own only did agony columns, crap diets, and which colour is going to be the new black next year, when did we start subscribing to the Washington Post ? You know I only read the Mirror and Rugby weekly..."

She went on, in full flow now, "The typical microsexual is a young man with money to spend, living in, or within easy reach of a metropolis (Batman and Robin sprang to mind, and a big question mark for some reason), because that's where all the best shops, clubs, gyms," (Snort, don't you mean Jim's lol), "and hairdressers are. He might be officially gay, straight or biceptual", "I thought you said he wasn't gay ?", "Don't interrupt !" she said, "this is utterly immaterial, he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference". (Is she reading an auto cue or what ?).

"I get it...", I said "He's excessively vain ? Up himself, in a manner of innocent speaking ? ", "NO ! he looks after himself, and prefers particular professions, e.g. such as modeling, waiting on tables, the media, pop music etc, jobs that keep your hands clean usually, don't require intelligence, and accepts hyper-activity, and bawling your eyes out to everyone as the accepted norm....nowadays, sport, seems to attract them too, but, like male vanity products and hoodies, they're pretty much everywhere now". (who needs Time Magazine ?)

"Good gracious ! What..!", I said, " even in Sainsbury's ?"... "Especialy there, or Boots", my other half went on, "They wouldn't be seen dead in Iceland Frozen Foods, and as for Poundland, phfffft ! forget it.....", she said, "A metrospectacle, in short, is a short-sighted clothes horse wrapped around a dandy, and fused with a narcissipisst, (Daffodils ? we're into Alan Titmarch country now ? no wonder Tommy always stayed at the other end of the garden).

"Dai Beckham was metrospecial too, he has been known to paint his fingernails, and wear his wife's erm.... nether garments.... what's more looks better than his wife in them... then again a grasshopper does let's face it...today's metrospexual is not afraid to embrace his feminine side..", "or someone else's if you read the SPORT ...", I said, "what about that nanny-text-gate thing ? didn't she blow....".

"Why 'metroplexual ?' ", she stopped me in mid-flow, (You're going to tell me aren't you...?). "The metro- prefix indicates this man's purely urban lifestyle, while the sexual suffix comes from "homosexual," meaning that this man, although he is usually straight", "How can he be a homosexual if he is straight I ?", I said, "SHUT IT ! he also embodies a heightened aesthetic sense often associated with certain types of gay men.... DON'T interrupt ! . There is no escaping the metrosextipede", she said.

"We could always eat somewhere else...", I said, "Weatherspoons does a fair curry, and it's cheaper on Thursdays too, and not so many mirrors....", "I detect your usual attempt to trivialize serious intelligent, and witty modernistic and Urban conversation..", my partner said, "Every time we discuss the 21stc, you start talking about the 19th... you have to get with the world as it is now.", "Why ?", I asked... (Fair question)... "What's happened ? I was waiting for the Millennium Bug it never happened did it ? caught a head cold, that was it, the world didn't end, not worth the fuss..."

"We may have one come to tea one day,", she said, "and they'll be checking out the cushion covers, and shower gel, (Gels ?), and running their fingers down the TV to see how much dust we have, we don't want to look outdated... perhaps if you go down the pub for a few hours they won't notice...", "Cripes gal, my socks are older than I am... and unless Brylcreem, and flares have made a comeback, best not to invite them... and I bet they drink water, do they not KNOW what fish do in it ? who would invite them, unless it was extreme flower arranging anyway ?"

"Do you want Burger and Chips, or, Sausage, egg and chips ? I'm paying.. they only sell grass here by the look of it and raw fish, or we could go to that Indian place where you there is all you can eat for £5... I'm easy.. and there's Rugby on their telly, not TV for epileptics like they got here.."

A night at the Karaoke

2009-09-11T03:20:00.001-07:00

As you know, MM likes lager and convivial and decent conversation occasionally, whence I then go to my local nightspot to indulge in the serious pursuit of Carling BL appraisal, and to attain some lively banter on anything from current events, to the mating habits of the mythical Latvian hermaphrodite, (a conversation that generally takes place closer to last orders, and between me and the chair leg usually). I recently discovered my favourite haunt, (The Bucket and Firkin) in an attempt to draw in the "younger crowd," decided in their dubious wisdom, to add Karaoke to their list of attractions, in an desperate attempt to give the place some ambiance. (Usually Ambulances are the only thing it attracts..). It's Japanese they said, and you get two for one and sushi or something.... "Sorry MM, people were complaining about your strip domino games, and the shove halfpenny was getting too dangerous," the barkeep informed me...

From what I later gleaned from the experience, once balance was restored, is that by simply adding a text prompter, (which also was in large print and braille for the Stevie wonder fans), a few huge PA speakers and excessive amounts of alcohol, even the most tone deaf can become Pavarotti, George Michael, or Lady Gaga, even without the 10 foot shoulder pads, and the vice police in attendance. Having somewhat of an awesome reputation in the aforementioned pub, (I've never been stabbed/glassed there), I usually get the best seat in the house, which is a corner stool next to the stage, (the one without the bloodstains and with almost level legs).

I must have done something to annoy the club owner, a rather large, tattooed barman with one eye, we affectionately named 'Crash' because of his penchant for throwing himself off the bar head first, and bouncing off the flag-stoned floor for his party piece... but upon mounting my throne the other night, I found that a rather large speaker had been nailed somewhat precariously on the wall, and at ear level right next to my head. The electronic nightmare remained silent during the earlier part of the evening. I knew Karaoke meant silent orchestra, but I was beginning to wonder what the point was, perhaps they were trying to attract the deaf pound or something ? who knows ?

Erstwhile we, i.e. us middle/old/decrepit denizens of nefarious intent, and dodging the grim reaper twice weekly, partook of the 'two for one' happy hour specials, (two pina colanders (Pint size), and one half pail of Old Bulchers paint stripper, 1940 vintage), one of the benefits of getting there early. I was getting racing tips from Gethin 'Gonzo' Emmanuel-Hughes, (an much admired local sheep worrier), and the resident wino who sweeps the floors and clears the tables for copious amounts of scrumpy Cider (Or the drip trays he isn't fussy), when a screeching voice in an octave high enough to shatter glass, began warbling what may or may not have been, "Stop In the name of Love", stop in the name of God and all that's musical, would be nearer the mark.. the only resemblance this rendition had to the classic tune was the words. Having my nether regions shaved with a cheese grater would have been considerably more agreeable. Fortunately half way through, the microphone decided enough was enough as well....

It was awful, but, like a moth to a flame, you can't look away can you ? The next budding crooner, a rather well blessed young ethnic lady 19 going on 13 I think she was, wearing her skirt for a headband, and who was having a hard time navigating to the stage, after 23 WKD's and 4 'sand-blasters' or something, had all eyes in the house on her as she gyrated and belted out an almost passable version of Tammy Wynette's, "Stand by Yo' Man, y'all," over the catcalls and requests for her to "stop the grinnin' and drop the linen," (I sometimes get mildly boisterous after a few largers).

Gonzo favoured us next with his Otis Redding classic that, I'm certain, had Mr. Redding spinning in his grave, "Sitting on a log with a tray...getting splinters stuck in my bum...". By now, I was certain it was time to call it a night, the toilet seemed further each time..... and knowing I was nearing my limit, I asked Crash to call me a taxi, because somehow, I had acquired a lithp and pathable degree in thrpeaking thwahilli from somewhere.... "OK, you're a taxi ha ha!" he said, (there's always one isn't there ?) did I tell you he was witty ? Usually he's a banker give or take a consonant... Unfortunately, taxis are hard to get on a Saturday night 100 yards outside the town centre and they want danger money and an armed guard.. and Crash was quick to inform me that it would be at least an hour before a cab could be dispatched, because the Hospital was choca-bloc ... and they have to hose down all the upholstery, after yet another outbreak of Kebabs. He did, however, offer to give me a ride home later if I didn't mind staying until things slowed down a bit. Discovering my legs had already gone to sleep on me anyway, I agreed.

In a never ending cycle, drunk after drunk took the stage to favour their adoring and drunken fans, everything from Britney to Whitney, jangled every nerve, 'girls just wanna have fun", and then they throw up and fall off the stage ? I'm sure isn't in the dance routine but I did wonder what the net and mop was for......... "We are the cheeky girls..." sung by 4 'girls' that won't see 60 again, except from the dark side.....Yet another atrocious rendition of 'Angel' was being screamed at us, and you prayed to Satan to return as soon as possible, all is forgiven. Their alcohol induced bravery, propels even those with the mildest of personalities to the stage to take their turn at the alcohol and saliva-stained microphone, to showcase their erstwhile unheard-of musical ineptness, of course, most cannot even read the auto-cue by now, and have forgotten which millennium they are in. This is called 'prime time' for some reason... the best time to sing, because nobody cares anymore, and undoubtedly will not remember.

Being seconds from sticking an ice pick in my ear to save my sanity, when none other than my annoying next door neighbour, in the company of someone other than his wife, took the stage to secure his moment of fame. Things were looking up ! Being an erudite blogger, I am always in possession of a small digi-camera, to catch that elusive scenario no-one else has ever done, (my photo collection of 300 knees and headless wonders is second to none....). Short term memory is one of the first victims of muddled age (Now what was I talking about..... Cricket ? Spleen-Splicing ?), anyway, my close proximity to the PA speaker made capturing the snap a sure fire ticket to get my own back on said neighbour, as easy as taking candy from a baby (Bad for their teeth anyway). His miserable excuse for a dog, had repeatedly unearthed my favourite roses, and even the pepper spray seemed like Lynx to him, I complained, but said neighbour had only laughed...My neighbour and his paramour stood nuzzling and cooing, cheek to cheek, belting out a rather bone-numbing version of "I Got You Babe." I think she resembled and had collected what Cher had lobbed off frankly but.... I was thinking the very same thing, BINGO! the drinks are on him for the next few months, and, the dog gets it...

I got a picture of the smiling illicit couple with a mobile phone too, to add graphic visuals to my next presentation, the next time I see him. As the evening neared it's end, for some inexplicable reason, (probably the 11 lagers), the ballads actually began sounding better, the livelier tunes had set my toes a tapping, (or it might have been St Vitus's I wasn't sure....). The evening ended on a high note (C sharp I think...), and as a threat (Sorry TREAT), to the remaining patron/s, I took the stage to favour my adoring fan/s with my usual and impeccable version of Frank Sinatra's, "My Way." to be followed by my show-stopper 'The last Waltz', for those still erect enough to 'smooch'. "I wonder should I go, or should I stay...." , I warbled in the time-honoured fashion, sadly, most insisted I go, and NOW ! if I wanted to live and didn't want to resemble Frankensteins ugly sister, after a botched face lift, (which is valid advice, fair-do's.).

The roaring, standing ovation that followed my final note had me almost floating back to my stool on a cloud of ecstatic euphoria, and brought a tear to the old eyes, YUSS !! MM, you still got it.... an encore was unheard of, yet..... dare I hope ? until I realized that the highlights of a football game were being aired on the wide screen TV beside the stage, and the applause was for a brilliant winning goal by Donaldo Frigzbotzja, or someone else with an Irish name, playing for England.... and I returned to my stool, slightly deflated, Crash was kind enough to serve me a final beer, (the previous owner was unconscious and wouldn't miss it...). Smiling, he said, "MM, I really loved those songs, Who sang those ?", I said, "Ole Blue eyes, Sinatra sang the first, and the other was Englbert Humpydumpinky... Why?", "Well next time, let them sing it, OK?"

Memories......

2009-09-08T12:08:00.000-07:00

As you grow old, you lose interest in sex, your friends drift away, and your children often ignore you. There are other advantages of course, but these are the outstanding ones. Having tried with various degrees of failure, to ignore the fact my desperate attempts to fool old father time have failed rather alarmingly, (I think my Mario Lanza 78s tended to give it away a bit....). I find an all nighter usually means not getting up to pee, or me and my teeth don't sleep together anymore, I've decide to act (More or less, and give and take a few cliché's), my age, and I have discovered a world hitherto unknown to me, planet ga-ga.

Now instead of wearing clothes that looked better and more in vogue on the clothes horse, or someone in the third world... I've started wearing corduroy trousers and funny hats, shopped at C&A's or BHS, and invested in a pair of brown shoes to complete the image, and even had a fleeting thought cross my mind, bowls might be worth looking at....... I attended a club for OAP's, now rather quaintly labeled as third age senior citizens, mostly old age, dotage, and '60-40', advantage grim reaper from what I could see.... about the only advantage of it was, most of them would kark it before me...

I thought time to take a step back from the hurley and burly of my hectic and 5km a month with tailwind lifestyle, to see how t'other half live. OK ! I got banned from the night clubs for dribbling on the dance floor.... Can't be all that manic can it ? a few games of Bingo, dominoes, a raffle or three, discuss your latest cataract or heart transplant, peruse "Zimmer Hot Rod Monthly" or '50 ways to hide incontinence for beginners'.

I was in for a shock, most are planning exotic and extreme holidays mountain climbing, taking Kung-Fu, and Salsa lessons, trekking to the North Pole, discussing their latest implants, or cut, tuck, and snip ops, and where to get Viagra wholesale, while getting in depth financial advice on how to spend what you've got now, and then leave the debt to your moaning kids, it's the Nigella Lawson financial guide to bringing up Baby or something, first you promise the kids if they look after you the dosh goes to them, then flog your assets, and use the equity cash to have fun with instead.... I think I'm going to like this club.

As 'Sid' said to me "If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there'd be a shortage of fishing rods." There were various booklets around the place to read, with very useful advice like, e.g, NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night, and , forget health foods, you'll need all the preservatives you can get. Sensible advice you'll agree.

Old Ada is a laugh, 90 if she is a day, and enough slap on to build the seven barrage with.... If you got it, flaunt it she said, I said, all I can flaunt is in jars of formaldehyde, and show them my collection of consultant phone numbers in my black book....Her hair colour has all the hues of the rainbow and some I don't think are any hue at all.... I'm none too sure her hair is hers, but don't quote me, she says to me, "I don't worry I'm getting old now, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter, but I never get depressed me, I go somewhere to get something... then wonder what I'm here after. Really, the only two things I do with greater frequency now I'm older is pee and attend funerals, I can do what I want. As long as it's near the bathroom."

Ada's on the look-out for a toy boy of 75, so I'm safe for a year or two. Everyone has something missing, or a walking stick, zimmer, and has injections, or enough tablets to keep Moses in commandments for the next Millennium, if you don't leak you rattle.... It's no longer a question of staying healthy, It's just a question of finding a sickness you like, as Jim explained to me... Having spent a few hours at this club I've decided it's too hectic for me... they wore me out.

20-20

2009-09-08T11:24:00.001-07:00

Which as every knows, except our cat, is about seeing that needle in any haystack, before it perforates your nether regions. Mine old eyes sadly, are not what they were, true I still have one of each and either side of my head but I was forced rather reluctantly to see one of those optician people to ascertain if I needed new glasses, after a rather irate e-mail being sent to me about my poor language regarding discussions on the current Duck problems in the UK (As you see I move in a rather rarefied and stratified circle, albeit I don't completely disappear up own opinion so much these days).

The pair I currently utilise are some I saw in a second hand shop for £6 and have served me well enough for a few years, because the ones the optician gave me I couldn't see a thing with, how was I to know you have to take them out of the case first.... I don't fall over the furniture so much as I used to, where I emulated Norman Wisdom after 15 pints, to prove the point. I can see as well as the next bloke with a white stick, caring cat, and dark glasses... I never DID find out why blind people wear dark glasses anyway, is there a point, or do they just want to look cool I wonder ?

I duly made an appointment with the local and finest glassologist to get me olde peepers checked out, but initially wandered into a carpet shop next door by mistake and nearly ended up with a few rolls of Axminster/Wilton, and a very dodgy rug instead. The optician seemed like a nice bloke, "Ha !", he said "I knew you'd have to come back sometime..", (Cocky devil)...He then tells me to stare at the board behind me while looking in a mirror, so I said what everyone wants to, "What is the point of reading backwards ?"... then added, "HOW do you know I didn't memorise the letters ? all these charts are the same." "We'll know !", he said.

I got as far as the fourth line, then started to identify 23 different breeds of Ukrainian wildlife, E's became F's, G's became S's or '9's' or something. I said "how do you know I'm NOT simply ordering pizza ? what If I was Chinese none of it would have made sense...". "AH! ", he said, "Then you wouldn't have come here would you ?", they've an answer for everything aint they ?

Next I had to stare at a couple of red circles or something, and tell him if they floated off into the blue yonder, I said if you want some red circles I've two around me eyes already.... and enough luggage bags under them to holiday in Patagonia for a month. After faffing about with different magnifying discs he concluded "You need a stronger pair.." HOLD THE FRONT PAGE!!!!! this is a revelation on par with the burning bush, the second coming, and Barak Obumba being made prop forward, for llanfair PG seconds...

"Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs," I said, "that IS why I came here funny enough... come out and own up, you are a mind-reading act aren't you ? or someone is hiding the other side of the one way mirror tipping you off !"

"Are you a diabetic ?", he said, "Nope.. Welsh, and non-conformist naturally." I said. "I only drink sherry once a year at Xmas now, for medical purposes you understand and to take the edge of the sprouts......" "Any MEDICAL issues ?", "Well, I'm averse to Mexican lager, beetroot, Europeans, and once had a funny turn in 1963 and voted Labour, but mainly I am as fit as Elizabeth Taylor with her pain-killers, and 6 bottles of gin a day......."

"OK, we're done now, would you like to look at some frames ?", "Only if they've passed the censor", I said. "Will you be claiming a free pair ? because you are a decrepit old blogger and can opt for the cheapos, or, did you make a killing on the stock market and would like to look at a decent pair ? we've got Rayburns here.. Gucci, both a snip at £500, David Beckham has a pair with diamonds on.."

"Look, I just want a pair to SEE THOUGH ! who bloody cares about frames ?". "OK you want the cheap ones", he said "We've got black ones and silver/gold type frames, round, square, narrow, and..." "I get the picture, look those will do, I don't want glasses as a fashion statement for god's sake... last time I was fashionable the first Queen Elizabeth was still on the throne, playing about with her armadas, giving Phil wot for.......if I'd wanted that, I'd opt for the white cane, gold accessories, and designer spaniel..."

I ended up with a pair that cuts my ear to pieces, and makes everything I eat look disgusting, I never realised how disgusting food actually looks... or I've been eating cat food the last 6 months...I've also discovered the price of things too, and why my mushrooms tasted funny, I'd been frying mince pies in lard.

Put a sock(et) in it....

2009-08-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

As I seem to be on a DIY Theme here's more !

I had a new light fitting which I put up recently which I purchased from Argos. When I opened up the box and checked the bulbs sent with it, I discovered they sent the wrong ones it was screw-in bulbs, but I had bayonet fittings. Unperturbed, I took said bulbs back to Argos, and explained it was bad enough they over charged me for the bulbs, (sent me 12 when I only wanted 5), but they were the wrong ones too.

I put down the page number and then showed them the right ones I should have been sent, in their book. I'd spent 3 days in the dark with a torch as it was ..... They checked again, took the old ones back, and then duly gave me exactly the same wrong ones again, and added "Customer ordered wrong item.." on the receipt. I said hang on ! YOU sent the wrong ones, YOU asked me did I want bulbs with the fitting, and I paid up, YOU sent the wrong items.

I demand you re-word the receipt .... she said "We always put down the customer is wrong, the part-timers we get here don't know what they are doing...it looks bad if we make too many mistakes, so we blame you.. you must be the first to actually read the receipt, most don't..."

I said neither do you, these are the wrong ones again...! What happened to the customer is right I wonder ! I then got another receipt with bulbs ordered for 'customer observation' (?) I gather that meant they would send down other bulbs to see if they were right, as they hadn't a clue !

I explained it would be so much easier if the bulb make had been listed alongside the light fitting, they said the fitting came from everywhere, and they changed bulb sizes all the time, then gave me the wrong ones AGAIN ! I said, but you blamed ME for a wrong order, you did that, 3 times.. look it is quite simple, the box displays on the outside, what is inside, novel I agree, but quite useful I think in this case, screw-in bulbs are quite different to bayonet bulbs, they have no thread for a start, so you cannot screw them in, (A giveaway really !), no amount of bashing with a liverpool spanner will make it fit....

They asked me to go IN to the warehouse and select them myself ... apparently there were two teenagers there running around like headless chickens, who had never seen a light bulb in their life ... and I found the bulbs in 3 minutes (That's 7 minutes LESS than the display says at the counter), they said if I wasn't such an old fart they would have offered me the job, a compliment or not ? I aint sure ..

The Flat-Pack Curse

2009-08-21T02:00:00.001-07:00

It seemed an innocent sort of package, carefully (If not with great love it seemed to me), delivered to my humble doorstep as ordered and, on time too which was a pleasant surprise. I mused that the plain old brown cardboard wrapping, hardly flattered what I expected to be an welcome and additional piece of eloquent and well designed furniture to my home, and I struggled to carry it from door to living room, All 30 kilo-wotsits of it nearly gave my hernia what for. No pain surely without no gain... on that basis I gained quite a bit already I think, including going soprano.

The first hurdle being overcome, I examined the package with a careful but practiced eye, I had these things before and knew the pitfalls ! Finding the right way to open the package was a science in itself, I recall in the past I had a Stanley knife that would cut through a diamond with no trouble, which I used to slash at the packaging, and discovered I had scored all the major surfaces so the assembly was pointless, I wasn't going to make that mistake again. I'd sent it back blaming a demented cat, with a wood fetish, for doing it in transit...

Carefully and examining it from all angles, the easiest way in seemed to be along the edges (I could part-time as a bomb disposal engineer), so! I cut along the said edges and viola it opened with ease, Hurrah ! However wrong way up, which meant I had to remove all the fiddly and larger bits out first to get at the instructions, as there was cardboard everywhere.

According to our women-folk, most men fail with flat pack assembly because we don't use logic and start from page 1 of the instructions and assemble it as instructed, but drag all the bits out (I'd already done that, in mitigation because I opened the package the wrong way, it wasn't my fault it didn't say this way up), and try to figure out which bit fits in where, half was scattered about the living room on the furniture and the other half was in the hall, cos I needed floor room, how hard can it be ? Then hopefully not end up with a few bagfuls of screws left over and some wood which I probably didn't need anyway, and the said coffee table ends up as a small cupboard with 3 legs and a drawer, and a door missing its knob....

I was determined to start page 1, which had the introduction "If you are not dissimilar with Nordic Languages then STOP NOW ! (alternatively turn to page 7 where there is a full description in Mandarin or Germanic-speak..)." Never mind, I'll have to do the tried and tested way of following the pictures.

Base A was an initial issue, it was unmarked and the same size as Base F and Base E, the only real difference was fewer pre-drilled holes in Base F, which had 6 X 25mm as opposed to Base A which also had 6 X 25mm holes, but set 6.5mm to the west or something, I had visions the table would be standing at an angle of 62 degrees really, which didn't show on the main picture. Perhaps Norway is on a hill or something.

I had now resorted to page 15, a mega jump from page 8 I was supposed to have started on, and had to measure every bit of wood to ascertain which was which and praying 25mm was about a foot and a bit plus two 10 pence widths... or something... I could always drill a few holes myself... It started to take shape until the last two-thirds of it when I found I was 16 screws short, much scratching of the head revealed I had assembled most of it using the wrong one, I blame the common market myself for scrapping imperial measurement for millipedes.

I changed the screws one at a time, which put an extra hour on the Assembly, but hey ! where was I going to go anyway...? Nearer completion panic set in a bit, when I discovered 4 pieces of wood left over AND a pair of hinges. Careful scrutiny of the Assembly diagram (And a short course in conversational Nordic), eventually revealed it was packing, and the hinges were an optional extra if you didn't want the door to fall off and brake your legs... who needs doors anyway ? it is going in the other room which we keep visitors out of anyway because the wallpaper is a rather striking, (We lost pizzas in there and never found them)... It seemed a good idea at the time when we bought it, perhaps the 15 lagers we had prior to that influenced it a bit...

The other alternative is to put it in the skip really.... tough call...not ! øvelse gjør mester ! (But wait until the train has evacuated le station....)

At the red barn...

2009-08-02T02:30:00.000-07:00

All the world's a net,
And all the participants merely bloggers,
They have their sites and their blogs,
whilst youtube films the egotists,
and google vies for world domination...

Ta for that Bill, don't give up the day job at Stratford Sewage Works will you.... How about "Much ado about nowt.." good title for a play ? oh well, please yourself. So wassup ? the last few weeks have seen some of my more erudite fellow bloggers take to the hills, to contemplate finishing that book, wot never got wrote, and hoping pound shop doesn't make them any offers...thus leaving moi to generate some interest in the blogs for the day, and indeed contemplate, his own novel about life, love, and IS orange peeling really going to make it, as a spectator sport ?

OK so some of you have penned a few tome's (Very readable too), but don't forget us little people who helped you on the way up (Or is it down ? I'm never sure). Personally I don't tell people I blog for the local paper sometimes too, they only poke fun. I think it is time I released MY latest blockbusting saga... (well if they can drag the Spice Girls out of again, why not me ?). It's called "Ficklefellow Folly". I scrawled it on the back of the Radio Times in a sudden and mad impulse to follow the muse, in between Eastenders and Holby... and anyway if Shakespeare can get away with it, why can't I ? What the Dickens did he know anyway ? (But enough of appalling cliche's)....

Basically and without entirely giving the complete plot away, the butler did it, I won't say how, there was a kipper, two ferrets, and copy of paradise lost involved.... Which I hope won't spoil it for you. Is the kipper a red herring ? read it and find out ! I had to make do with a Gherkin, but it still works I think. I didn't want the ladies to lose out, knowing how they enjoy the love interest and a bit of norty bodice ripping they can be shocked with, so I have created my own 'Mr Darcy' in it, except he's called Arnold 'Scrapper' Clinkerbottom, in my version, and peels potatoes for the affluent, and his love interest is the demure but quite feckless, Fanny "Goodness me" Clacket, the adopted daughter of an Albanian pig wrestler, and a consonant-challenged, Czechoslovakian origami-boner.

Read a clip of it and see.

"Eee ba gum Scrapper.." said "Fanny, "Have 'ee always groiled spuds for a living ? I'm sure pater would choke on his truffled trifle, if it were true..., you know, he has a tendency to be slightly Irish... and would cut us both off without a pound of lard to fry with if he found out...".

"Now now lassie...", laughed Scrapper... spitting peelings on her bonnet, scattering her posy vicariously to the far side of the gillet, "we've known each other 15 years, you can drop the 's', we can be informal now surely with 11 children ? Potatoes is only a sideline of mine ye ken, I'm going to branch out into turnips and swedes and make a killing flogging mash, with a side salad, (or maybe fajitas), we'll be rich Fanny, bluddy rich !! then we'll show 'em Fanny ! then we'll show them ahahhaahahahha (And haha) !!!".

Hot stuff I think you'll agree...! (Phew !), it'll just float past the censors I think, people are more enlightened these days about King Edwards.... in those days, you'd have been flogged just for mentioning Maris piper. I've already had 15 advance orders from MacDonalds... which will balance all their tables in the High Street outlet.... I could even go nationwide if they work OK. Advance copies can be ordered via my retail outlet, I'll even sign a copy for free.

The book, all 4 pages in relatively joined-up writing, and even the ink blotches don't spoil the story, just that on page 3 para 4 it is SPIT, (oops !), I'd just dipped me quill a bit too much at that point, and the cat was trying to hump the TV stand and had to be restrained, the book cost just £45 (Hard Copy), or 15 shilling and tuppence if I jump up and down on it... there's a bonus of a 50 pence rebate if you don't reveal the ending too... which is a real nail-biter... there might even be a sequel..... although most are hoping not...

Summer's In....

2009-07-31T12:06:00.000-07:00

Gordon Brown has ordered the environ-mental agency to do an in-depth investigation into the recent heavy and substantial flooding in England (Sod the Welsh and Scottish..), preliminary findings suggest (Against current thought), that rain may be to blame, or rather, too much of it, and the fact some idiots build housing on river banks, so homeowners can have free water features. Gordon Brown will now tax rivers by their depth to address the issue, but also to release £100m to divert rivers prone to flooding to Aberdeen instead (That'll teach them to want self-rule), and triple the tax on umbrellas, but also (being prudent), has decided to up the VAT on boat hire and Wellington boots.

Americans have been told by their representative house on t'hill (Damn commies !), to get American armed forces out of Iraq, by April next year, cos the problem's solved near enough now, (mostly they've near killed each other off). Obama wants one last nuclear 'push' to clear out what he says are an abomination on the face of the planet (The entire Middle East, and Pakistan/Korea), "there are less than 25 Coca-Cola outlets in the whole of eee-rak, and no Disney World either, these are a people seriously deprived, and being held back by Britney Spears (Sorry Alan Queda), democracy insists, we stand up and be counted here. (Parts of this speech were sponsored by Pizza Hut and MacDonald's, the rest he got off Ally The Big Bird show, on NUTTY TV).

Madge has been annoyed, not the one with pointy bra's and a pain the bum, she should be more careful where she sits down...but the German frau in London, (or not depending which BBC you watch), being somewhat unamused while having her photo taken yet again for her adoring subjects, (Like we are all queuing up to look at photos of an 80yr old wearing ridiculous clothes, while Posh Spice, Des O Connor and Cherry Blair are still around), she took umbrage when her photographer, a Slavic, with a valid entry visa printed in Baghdad, said to her "Can ve lose ze crown, and curtains over ze shoulder look sveetie ? much better wiz zem off, How can I work in zis conditions", she said, "cannot ve get Kate Smozz to do zis ? " and her madge had a hissy fit, later returning minus the bat cape, and size xxxxxxl garters, but still with the crown on, and sporting an "Royals do it with a Crown on" tattoo, so 1-nil to Queenie.

It's all happening innit ? Not to be outdone a rather worried BBC bloke threw himself on his sword in full view of half a dozen BBC AM news viewers before the watershed too, "OK!", he blubbed, "I admit it is more serious than ripping off loads of kids and their parents on Blue Peter with the phone scam, and I'll return the OBE if they like, but I've already spent the thirty grand I made from the scam, and gave them all blue peter badges, and a month's supply of sticky-back plastic for free, what more can I do ?".... In mitigation, the BBC is organising a nation-wide phone-in today, to decide if he was right or wrong to do this, the winner, (Mr Arnold Clinkerhoffen of Melton Mowbray, the director's uncle), will be announced in a televised random live draw next week.

Some bloke called Beckham has left Italy to play football and prance about the nightclub scene in LA with his pet clothes horse. An spokesperson of indefinable gender, said "He will be a great asset on the Hollywood paparazzi scene, and I'm sure American gals are rootin' to see his shootin' too! Mr Beckham stated "I'm happy to be in LA..", (Whoops from the fringe), and I can assure you all, that the $125m was only a minor consideration, "I can", he was quoted, "make more posing for cameras with a stupid look on my face, later on I may actually kick a football, or tattoo my gold-plated golf clubs.

I'm not sure yet, depends how much more they cough up, and whether there is clothes contract, and a palace named after me lined up with it, and they find something for the missus to do, while I am 'checking out the action' so to speak.". (Actually he didn't say that, it was more like.. "Erm...Hello, I'm happy to be in Manchester again, howay the lads !!!", silly grin, "errr....OK ? 'ere Vicky ? wot's fick mean ?").

The last few weeks has also seen a serious outbreak of carnival-itis, lots of people of otherwise upstanding citizenhood, when they're not queuing up to see Molly's Bergere' and her S&M sheep worriers in Pontypool, are donning silly apparel, talking to their kids for the first time in a year, and decorating 40 tonne lorries with depictions of Hawaiian Islands, complete with imitation snow, artificial tsunamis, and inflated sharks, while holding up the traffic of Gwent.

"It's a bringing together of people who otherwise you'd just punch in the face", said a local councilor, "it's got to be a positive thing, here, has anyone seen my watch ? Little devils....". The green tent at Rodney parade carnival ground last week was doing a roaring trade selling eco-friendly beefburgers, and the rugby club bar doing an immense job to offset global warming by refusing to sell baked chili beans on site, and printing the bacon burger menu in Hebrew as a gesture of multi-cultural goodwill. There were a couple of people dressed as butterfly's for some reason, I thought best not to ask, you know how nasty butterflies can get...

He's behind you !!

2009-07-31T11:45:00.000-07:00

Someone was at me olde pubeee the other day and talked about village pantomimes (As you do), recalling how my mother used to help put them on once a year. One was Cinderella, complete with improvised coal scuttle posing as the coach, and a scriptwriter who was a raving dyslexic. I recall I saw the show, and it got to the point where Poor ole Cinders was for some reason locked in a cupboard, next to me sat a few disabled people with Downs Syndrome being force-fed this as a 'perk'.

One in particular was really getting in the the swing of it, and had been very vocal re the "Where is he ? he's BEHIND you !!!", thing, and had even cleared the stalls a few times to point it out, and been dragged back. He was obviously unhappy the cast had poor eyesight or something, but the cast of the show, decided to stretch it out a bit, and whip up some hysteria amongst the kids by keeping up the pretence, they really didn't know where poor ole Cinders was...

Clearly our enthusiastic compadre in the next seat got really annoyed with this, he damn well knew, and was determined to make them aware....and after the umpteenth time of "Where is Cinders ?" was shouted to the assembled crowd, he stood up and shouted "She's in the effing cupboard, are you effing blind ?", which brought the house down..... A star is born. He should have been there every night...

Panto's have changed a bit since my day, we used to love the bits in-between, the story was only secondary really, to running around the theatre like a headless chicken, and throwing half-chewed toffees at the people in front of you. You'd get the decorator gags and slapstick, the skeletons flying above your head, the wicked witch, a pop star or TV weather presenter or three, dressed in tights trying to look serious and failing abysmally, you prayed for the curtain to fall, preferably on them....and custard pies galore, now it seems a little throw-away.

Tonite's Cinderella came to you via the benevolence of Skimp's curried Fish Frys...It's only for a few weeks around Xmas, not worth the effort sort of thing. Whatever happened to the bouncing ball song ? I wondered. Here's one I recall...

Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers
Oooh That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

One slick snake slid down the slippery slue
That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

Peter Piper picked, a peck of pickled peppers
A peck of pickled peppers, Peter Piper picked
That isn't so hard to say
But try it five times, fast as you can
It's a little bit harder that way

ALL TO-GETHER ! (Chorus)

Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers
That isn't so hard to say,
but try as you can
you never can say
wot the 'eck, do Vicky and Bek
Use to scrub and clean their neck
and they wear red thongs around their neck !
I really shouldn't say..

They didn't even drag up some unsuspecting urchin and humiliate them for a free box of chocolates, so we could wince as they cried their hearts out (ahhhhh...), as we used to enjoy, sadly times change, a social worker would be in the wings taking down notes.... In my day when the villain came on stage you had to hold us back, to prevent us crippling him..... he'd get more missiles lobbed at him, than an adulterer in downtown Tehran, or a corporation Bus driver.

You used to get them ongoing things, like, every time an ugly sister or witch came on you'd have to shout ... LETTUCE !! LETTUCE !! let the rabbit eat LETTUCE!!! (?), or something equally obscure in your loudest voice... which was guaranteed they said to annoy the villains every time.. it bloody annoyed me... especially when there was no rabbit in it, but two rather dubious blokes inside a cow, or a talking cat or summat, all rather iffy if you ask me.

It's gone gender positive as well, instead of he's behind you, he's behind you !! to inflame the audience, it's LOOK OUT !!!! LOOK OUT !!!! she's in FRONT of you !! ... (and wearing beige... ughhh !). Dandini really is a bloke now.... but with an errant wrist action, and a civil rights message to boot, and the ugly sisters all look like Margaret Becket (a bit better looking really). We now get Idle Jack played by George Bush look alikes.. and the DWP chasing him around the stage for benefit, and bean tax evasion, and selling livestock without the appropriate health clearance forms.

Long John Silver hasn't a parrot, because of the avian flu scare, and he is allergic to feathers, so he has a stuffed marmoset instead, or a cornflake packet. Baron Hardup played by George Brown would be worth seeing... "It's prudent to marry off my two step daughters to royalty....", etc.. and hope social services don't cotton on the fact his own daughter is a skivvy in the cellar, (Played very convincingly by that Albanian asylum seeker with a lisp I thought), although glass slippers are now out because of health and safety laws or something, and she wears snow boots, and has a child or four with no father in sight, so set to coin it, so why settle for second best and marry a Royal ? They pay tax now don't they ?

I gather Cherie Blair has just turned down a lucrative offer for a leading part in 101 Dalmatians, pity, they had all 101 already....doesn't seem the same 'though. Two Jags can now make a comfortable living playing both ugly sisters at the same time, to add spice they could give the audience free eggs to throw.... and the address of their nearest lawyer if he lashes out at you.

Shops and Schlops..........

2009-07-31T11:23:00.001-07:00

I'm depressed, I've been shopping, (enough to depress anyone let's face it), and struck by the soulless tin sheds with endless pre-packaged and tasteless garbage on offer. Life was so much simpler and healthier years ago. We now get seduced by a group of cheap and cheerful smart-Alec's, who promised to enhance your life by making things easier, showing you things you never knew existed and saving you money, so you could spend that extra on drinking yourself into oblivion, which they also will sell you, or taking medication because of the stress of wandering around these brightly coloured warehouses, and spending bloody hours driving there.... Asda, Tesco, Safeway, Iceland, Sainsbury have enriched our life beyond measure, perhaps we should canonise a new Saint, St Tesco of the profits.

I don't know where I would be without a deep freeze and easy access to a Kumquat, do you ? I have become the consumer, the lowest life-forms on the planet, grazing from shelf to shelf making sheep look more intelligent, those that aren't sliced and diced with spices anyway. I've got choice, but I don't want it, when I was fed at home or school what you ate was what you were given that was it. The choice was eat it or starve.amazing what you will eat then.

We dance to the tunes they play, while they raid our wallet and bank account, fill your larder with bland and inferior goods and generally bully you, into buying deep fried Calamari to go with your stroganoff, because British meat and two veg (Which was the backbone of the British Empire), is now not only lethal, but not 'ethnically diverse' enough. I need a language translator to shop at most of them, I bought what I assumed was a hair shampoo and it turned out to be cocoa oil or something, but the label was in Russian how was I to know ?

I can't be bothered, we should dump the fridge, buy some spuds, a few greens half a cow, sod it... who needs 36 options on pasta sauce, and 68 types of crisps anyway ? the fridge keeps food fresh ? that's another con. If you didn't have one, you'd have to buy REALLY Fresh food...

I yearn for the old way of shopping like in the 1950/60s, OK we had awful service from the old high street, I used to traverse 3 villages just to get a weekend meal and all the ingredients, but at least it kept me fit.... Bananas meant a whole day out searching for them, I think the holy grail was easier to find then.. as for oranges we had them once a year at Xmas in an old sock....

The shops only sold one line of goods each. You bought meat at the butchers, stationery at the stationers, veg at the greengrocers, condoms at the hairdresser, but at least you didn't have to stare at rows and rows of packaged rubbish to decide.. do I do the Tikka masala today ? French/Bulgarian cuisine ? decisions....There were no trolleys, you carried it all in a bag you provided, and it was paper not plastic. If there was a hill, you climbed it. If it rained, you got wet. If you forgot an item, you made do.

You certainly did not buy what you didn't need, why on earth would you ? more to carry....The shops shut at 5.30 pm, and sometimes on a Wednesday or Saturday afternoon, and Sunday too. Some people had a life even if you didn't...The service was provided by untrained and underpaid assistants, or the self employed who promised they would get what you want next week... they never did, who buys that fancy rubbish anyway ? I was laughed out of one valley store for asking for muesli... didn't I know it only came from Greece on alternative leap years ? if you can't see it, you didn't need it.

The supermarket have taken us over. The deception they practice on the customer are many and varied. Every meat/fish dish tastes the same. Veg and fruit doesn't taste of anything... No wonder, the E-numbers and chemical cocktails see to that. The pictures on the packet are the most appetizing things about them, the labels used on the packets, with its emphasis on 'fresh', 'rich', 'delicious', 'Mediterranean-style', and so forth, are meant to deceive, if its green it's healthy (If you like frozen bile that is), red or otherwise the kids will eat it, even if its' kipper, we wouldn't know taste if it sang the moonlight sonata.....

I doubt yer average shopper knows what food is.... their kids don't and seem rather perturbed milk doesn't come from elephants or Tesco. The nearest most salads got to the Mediterranean was Sussex, perhaps the lettuce pickers were from Malta....I found that Tesco employs 140,000 people, 40,000 more than British Army, and better paid. Perhaps we should send all these supermarket workers to Afghanistan, and go back to the way we were, ten to one, they'd be selling Bin Laden 'own brand' Semtex, in 46 flavours... buy one, get one free...

Stand by your livers...

2009-07-31T11:04:00.000-07:00

Don't hospitals get worse ? Visiting your loved ones is going to cost you an arm and a leg too (As if taking our hard-earned cash isn't enough), for parking your car on a visit. The NHS is skint, so needs to raise more cash, but after complaints of overcharging, they have decided to set up an insurance/endowment scheme, so you can park all you like, in return for the deeds of your house, after all, you aint gunna, (sorry got that from eastenders or somewhere), need it after are you ? you'll be spending all your time in the car park, protecting your space, if you get something nasty, you're there on the spot, cushty ! chem la femme cariad, as they say.

The hospital can run a B&B, and a soup kitchen, (Use up all that stuff the patients won't touch, and resembles the Quatermass experiment), it's a money maker for the NHS, charge 50 pence for a pee, £5.50 (7 or 8 euros and a square banana or summat), if you have the runs etc, the world's your halibut. The regular Friday/Saturday night grind, where our staunch, front- (and heavily sedated I expect), -line medical staff, spend hours, risking life, sanity, and limb to clean up the vomit, blood and the other bits and pieces left over after your usual happy go lucky, binge drinking nights out, is to be subsidised,in a very novel way.

Rather than drunks wandering around the town centre from pub to club, gutter to gutter, and to the Burke and Frikket bistro and back again, then gaily decorating our streets with their multi-coloured, pizza, dodgy curries, chips, kebabs, and urine, they will build a bar/restaurant in A&E, (call it FORCEPS R US or something), and let them drink out of e.g. bed pans, not in use, bartenders can wear green pinnies and masks, KOOL ! Surgical alcohol will also separate the men from the boys, girls from their underwear, paint from the walls, (and possibly some from their eyesight, stomach lining and liver but....).

This is a brilliant idea I would urge all NHS hospitals to adopt. Initially it will save thousands of man/woman/person/auditor/disabled individual/ethinc sector/ religious preferenced, hours, petrol, and staffing costs for our Ambulances, and free up paramedics, they just wait for them to keel over, then wheel 'em straight from bar to A&E, the no-hopers straight down the chute to pathology.

They could use up the surplus colostomy bags, for those who don't like to leave the bar, and waste valuable drinking time, for a small fee. There's profit to be made on booze sales too, it's a guaranteed money-spinner, cuts violence at a stroke, and virtually zeroes, town centre issues of drunkenness, fighting, and drug taking, you could get prescription drugs there, and they'd be safely dispensed, forget E's, polo mints are rad ! Vimto infusions (Taken orally), are also IN.

Forget alco-pops, REAL pop is a man's drink, I dare you to drink 3 glasses of non-diet (Let's live dangerously), Lime Tango... and still be able to recite War and Peace backwards in Hebrew ! It may even pave the way for the over 18s to safely go out of a weekend, I've never known what happens when it gets dark, since 1974, we'd get our skittles, shove 'halfpenny, half lagers, and darts nights back, whoopeee ! domino evenings could take off with a real vengeance, pubs would start putting sawdust down again, throw out those wall TV's that splay endless moronic music, put back that piano I say ! (put chairs back too, the ones they took out because you were relaxing, instead of drinking).

It cuts down the need for heavy police presences too, you just station 2 or 3 at the Hospital, sorted. I can't think why no-one thought of it before. Blood donorship is drastically down, and there'd be more than enough 'On tap' as it were, right there in A&E, an unlimited supply, and all free, all you need is a big sponge, and a tea strainer to filter the booze content out, then the NHS charities won't have to send begging letters out, or breathe heavily down our phone lines, pleading for a pint or three like latter day vampires.

Kidney donors would rocket, while drunk, the NHS doctors, can get 'em to sign them away before they get too sozzled for any practical use, whip one out, they won't miss them. All those vital services are then freed up for genuinely ill people (well they say there are some), it's a radical idea treating sick people, but the NHS can be UK Leaders in paving the way here, don't you think ?

My Kinda Town...

2009-07-31T10:37:00.000-07:00

For those of us who enjoy traversing the highways and congested by-ways of our Town (Now a City due to a decimal point being missed somewhere in Whitehall), and quaint and obscure traffic systems, that give the M25 a good name, and has single-handedly, managed to change the term 'bus lane only' into folk lore slang, and an 21st century colloquial term for something rather obscene, you shouldn't really sit on until the seat is cleaned first, I find I have time to ponder on that mystical pile of rocks laughingly alluded to by our Town/City's Historical Dept as a 'Castle', as I await more in hope than expectation, my preferred colour of the traffic lights. Is it MY fault, green is out this year and red is the new black ? I can't keep up with everything.

I'm now been advised that driving through our fair city, it is advisable to wear support socks to avoid the DVT I could get waiting in the traffic. People have gone the moon and got back while I was waiting. You could I suppose stare at that new bridge, which actually doesn't go anywhere, but it looks good Chwarae Teg...can't have everything.

Did King Arthur pass through ? or just got caught short ? We could have done tours, "This is our famous Castle," (we can hear the guide state, and through the hearty and cruel laughter of the tourist), "NO, REALLY it is ! you have to use your imagination mind," yep, and about 50cc's of mind-numbing psychedelic drugs
would do wonders too, e.g. you could say it's Disneyland Cymru then, put a chute alongside, and push them into the Usk for laughs, Alton Towers eat your heart out....

If JK Rowling had been born here, the only Potters she would have written about is the pub, and bang would gone her £250 mil.... our inglorious forefathers, apparently have Owain Glyndwr to thank, after he decided to make a rockery out of it, but he forgot that finishing touch, flowers, (classic mistake), it would have mitigated the demolition a bit.

A conservative council then called him a terrorist, for all his trouble, do you think it was EASY pulling it down brick by Brick ? demolition provided work for 100s of local people, you get no thanks at all.... it must be a pretty early example of recycling as it was about the 15thc, he was ahead of his time... Let us not forget our glorious pretty recent past in pursuit of Coal/Iron glory, we dug most of the castle grounds up and pulled down 3 walls, for a canal, which then later got filled in for a road, nobody called them terrorists.

It has thus since been bridged over a few times, and generally abused, now it's fenced off because it gave the Bus Station public urinal and drug den, a 'run' for its money, so you can sort of stare at the odd wall that's left through the new Milton Keynes type grill, and ponder on the grandeur we never actually had there.

I did notice that open-top bus that we provide for the mugs (Sorry,tourists, Visitors), gives it a miss too, even they couldn't convince anyone there was summat worthwhile there once, instead of touring the Caerleon ruins and local council estate's Euro paid-for square, which is obviously the envy of the Western World, or all that grassy litter-covered tip, where once stood the fabled 'Star Towers', where council tenanted barbarians are purported to have lived years ago, and reputedly rivaled Babylon without the gardens so we are told.

Now lost in western and Celtic folklore, and only a run-down butcher's shop, and boarded up Post Office (remember them ?) exists, to show us what the glory was.... There has to be something positive about it so I am throwing the entire blog to the world to come up with 10 decent ideas, as to how to make our city the envy of the western world. The winner of the top 10 uses for our castle, will get the freedom of the city, (And a few weeks free therapy thrown in), which they will be able to use in 2010 when the traffic is sorted....perhaps.

Let's Ban the American Language...

2009-07-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

It has to come, its bad enough Bill Gates getting up everyone's nose with his software, but the plethora (That's English), of online grammar/spell checkers based on whatever language the Americans use, that scans what you write and tells you if it makes sense or you have used too many 'and', 'also's' etc which are considered irrelavant time wasting.

However as my chosen sphere was Welsh things related in Queen's English (Complete with plums), the bluddy American software rejected 90% because it failed to understand Welsh place names, as did the spell checker, which was unsuable because it was worse than Welsh it was 'American English' which is another language akin to mandarin really... discrimination against the Welsh ? or am I being over sensitive. What the Americans use is NOT English I don't know where they got that idea, but some sort of obscure slang version they have invented for themselves....

A word to the wise, Shakespeare wasn't born in Texas...... An prominent American 'Grammar scammer' scanned my last blog of 'Dear God' and stated unequivocally I was only 53% Au fait with my own language (Says the people that lost the vowel 'U' and says Yo instead of 'Hello old chap how are you today ?').

You aren't going to like this, they scanned the declaration of Independence and said it made 37 serious grammatical errors lol Which ones I wonder ? We cut you loose cos you can't spell ?

Dear God...

2009-07-22T12:27:00.001-07:00

Dear God (But in a polite way of course)...

I love the religion gig, I really do, although the Christians need a makeover...which is why I continue to worship, despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years, of falling over the pews and scattering hymn books to the four winds.... but this latest incident takes the biscuit.

Usually, by the end of the service I would have gladly put a few 20 pence's in the alms box, but for the fact I have an serious complaint to make, I tried your representative here at St Luke's, Father Michael, but I'm afraid he replied in less than a Christian manner, and I smelt alcohol on his breath as well, it was I think, a Sainsbury's Chablis of rather dubious Icelandic vintage I have to say... I was unable to resolve the issue in question, and he said 'Take it to the boss' so here I am.

He was covering the garden of Eden that you created, and replying to our queries as to whether the inclusion of semi-poisonous reptiles, no clothing, and lack of a herb/Vegetable section was a wise move. For two people to adequately sustain themselves, I thought a solitary apple tree, would not in itself provide sufficient calorific or carbohydrated sustenance, (a fair and reasonable assumption I think you will agree).

We were rather taken aback he thought my response as of a frivolous nature. He said "They were sustained by God". I said like a celestial meals on wheels or similar ? I was accused of being disruptive. As the story was told, he went "A talking serpent bent Eve's ear and pleaded with her to get Adam to eat from the tree of knowledge". So was there a real tree ? or a metaphorical one ? As i understand trees, there are no fruit growing on metaphorical trees just assumptions.... and they are all pips....

Later they went on to beget (?) two children, what is 'Beget' ? is it like IVF ? I suggested GOD should have created two children, not two adults, it would then be a bit more believable wouldn't it ? (You can use that idea next time perhaps ?)... Their children Caine and Abel appeared not to get on all that well, and one apparently murdered the other (I would blame the parents as a general rule as there was no-one else involved but...). I posed the question was then one of them hermaphrodite ? or how else would we be here ? I read nothing that said you created a lot of women or virgin births for him after... Adam had only one extra rib didn't he ? or his chest would have wobbled all over the place, and his heart would have needed a surgical truss of some kind, wouldn't it ?

From what little I have read of the Old Testy, things went decidedly downhill after, and your work was cut out with pillars of fire, plagues by the dozen, turning people into pillars of salt, and throwing thunderbolts everywhere. It's what you get for giving free choice, someone will always take advantage, then you have to sort it all out again, the flood didn't work well either did it ? I think giving them a boat was asking for it really, just storing up trouble for it to start all over again, but you should have known that, or was the week you created the planet an off one ? Happens to the best of us...

If I may be so bold, and this is just a reminder. Last week I prayed for 5 numbers AND 2 star numbers for the euro lottery. Unfortunately the ones I had given, based on the hymn singing order, provided me with nothing but being one pound poorer. If you can oblige I'd be grateful, if I didn't know better I might think you are ignoring me, which I am sure is not the case... I will promise to donate £2m to the poor banker's charity, they are down to their last £149b sadly, which is barely enough to keep body, let alone soul nourished....

You Swine !

2009-07-20T09:20:00.001-07:00

If you wake up and look like this, don’t go to work, the latest UK Government information poster on swine flu...

Complete & Official Breakdown of MP's expenses...

2009-06-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

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Signed George Brown

A load of Nana's

2009-06-17T00:40:00.000-07:00

A Banana guard.

Just when you thought it was safe to leave the the BBC to talk to itself for a few hours, while agonising how to waste your licence fee on celebrity losers, I surfed the highways, and a few rather dubious byways of the net. There, you can find real news happening. Like one school that has banned students from including bananas in their lunch boxes, because one teacher has a severe allergy to them. The teacher from a Plymouth school was said to have a "potentially fatal" reaction to bananas (so is presumably also unable to visit supermarkets or parks ?), causing her council employers to recommend the fruit be excluded from her work environment, sorry kids no nana's in your lunch box (!) today...

Perhaps the teacher may want to cross off her list of holiday destinations Ohio, which has a town has just held its 15th annual Banana Split Festival in honour of the supposed invention of the dish in 1907. The festival also features the "Banana Split Master’s Competition", now in it's 5th year, won this year by Pete Kramme for his "Sweet and Salty Banana Split", which adds cream cheese and pretzels to the traditional recipe.... or maybe not !

Speaking of odd flavours, an American Saloon (Yee HA!), is offering two-for-the-price-of-one on it's 'eye watering' bacon-vodka martini on Jun 19th, in celebration of National Martini Day. Wonder if they have a Carling Black Label day ? I have an interesting recipe for Lager with tomatoe surprise...... the surprise is there are no tomatoes really but... A barman hopes to beat the credit-crunch this summer by selling beer flavoured ice-cream. The barman, David Wardleworth, is keeping the exact recipe a secret beyond saying only, that is does include "Thwaites Original" British cask ale. Despite a historic reputation for liking our beer warm as a rule, the ice-cream is apparently proving popular.

The ice-cream business (Always a dubious business proposition in the UK), certainly looks about to boom in New Jersey, where police are preparing to hand out tickets for free ice-cream to any kids they see wearing a helmet when cycling. Even better, no child will be left out, as the Brain Injury Association of New Jersey is supplying free cycling helmets for children. Win-win...

I'm sane... really I am !

2009-06-03T01:02:00.001-07:00

With the singing hairbrush from BGT, now enjoying real celebrity status of rehab at a celebrity clinic, there are increasing demands for a sanity clause (OK it's an old joke but..), to ensure those who achieve the ultimate shame of taking part in this BGT farce, can get help to cope with it. Can you see ques forming outside GP surgeries to get their card stamped they are sane.... ? It's a huge risk for most of them !

Dr. "Why do you want to be in a talent TV show ?"

Patient: "It's my only chance in life, if I can't take part, and win, my life is over...and I want to be famous, a celebrity, and get rich quick, travel the world, meet Obama, If I can get reduced to tears by cowell then I have made it, and..."

Dr. "OK nurse take him away, next ?"

Kookery Korner.

2009-05-25T03:31:00.000-07:00

I've decided to go a bit more Cosmo with my food these days, I am told fry ups and Burger and chip meals are a bit passe now, and I have to get with it, or be a social pirhana or something, so, I searched high, (and well below), for exciting gastronomic recipes to amaze and surprise my friends, and found some geat ones I think you will appreciate too. It wasn't easy, a lot of recipes, you have to eat grass/herbs and stuff, which I didn't think my educated tum could cope with after years of food fried in delicious lard and topped with axle grease mayonaisse.

I didn't like that grinning "What ARE you like ...", ninny's suggestions, or the bloke with a lithp either, I kept adding ingredients that aren't there cos I can't understand a word he is saying.... no wonder the kids preferred Thurkey Thizzlers, and shmuggled thips instead.... I didn't want an over-educated palate, just to Sec Modern level that's all.

I came across a really inspiring cook book written by some exiled Canadian (After reading the recipes you'll probably guess why but...), which really inspired me to dump that chip pan, and buy a wok (It's like a sieve without the holes in it), to manifest a talking point in my kitchen, heaven forbid they ask me what it's for... I turn it upside down and painted a bum on it.

Here's a few mouth-watering, and gut churning recipes guranteed to get your snobby mates with a sniffy attitude going quite quite green with envy (And even possibly bright blue and spotty as well), with your expertise in cooking. 3 courses for your perusal and edification are as follows....

First, my personal (Main meal) favourite is called Jellied Moose Nose, albeit I have had some difficulties getting a Moose at Tesco's lately, a Cow's nose is acceptable... Here it is,

1 Upper jawbone of a moose
1 Onion; sliced
1 Garlic clove
1 tb Mixed pickling spice
1 ts Salt
1/2 ts Pepper
1/4 c Vinegar
1 instant dial to the nearest ambulance service.

Modus Operandi (It's all the Canadian-speak I know, apart from Lake Ontario).

Cut the upper jaw bone of the moose just below the eyes. Place in a large kettle of scalding water and boil for 45 minutes. Remove and chill in cold water. Pull out all the hairs - these will have been loosened by the boiling and should come out easily (like plucking a duck, but don't try saying this after a few cooking lagers). Wash thoroughly until no hairs remain.

Place the nose in a kettle and cover with fresh water. Add onion, garlic, spices and vinegar, Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the meat is tender. Let it cool overnight in the liquid. When cool, take the meat out of the broth, and remove and discard the bones and the cartilage. You will have two kinds of meat, white meat from the bulb of the nose, and thin strips of dark meat from along the bones and jowls.

Slice the meat thinly and alternate layers of white and dark meat in a loaf pan. Reheat the broth to boiling, then pour the broth over the meat in the loaf pan. Let cool until jelly has set. Slice and serve cold.

Second, (This is my favourite starter, and brilliant conversation piece too)... Frog Croquettes (Adding a bit of exotic French Cuisine here to titilate those taste buds..).

A whole mess of frogs (This is usually about 5 per person, no toads).
1 package of stuffing mix
Several cups of bread crumbs
Blindfolds for young frogspawn.

Slit frogs from butt to chin and remove entrails; wash and pat dry. Mix stuffing mix and bread crumbs with water; stuff frog cavities. Place on platter under grill for 15 minutes or until golden brown. Serve on bed of lily pads. Should be eaten like hors d'oeuvres. A Chablis is most appropriate, or my personal reccomendation is Brains Beer, with cherries.. that doesn't add or take away anything from the taste as such.. and the cherries are optional.

Thirdly, forget those boring Canapes, and try, Lizard Tongues On Crackers , this is a quick and easy, fanciful h'ors d'oevre which is sure to please both family and friends alike at your next petite soiree. For this recipe you will need:

1 cup lizard tongues (Most lizards will do)
1 cup grated cheese
1/4 cup red caviar
1/4 cup parsley
Tabasco sauce
Worcestershire sauce
Some Ritz crackers

Spread the crackers on a greased baking dish. Top with cheese and lizard tongues. Sprinkle a little parsley on top and a drop or two of Tabasco and Worcestershire. Bake for 10 minutes at 325 degrees. Remove from oven and top with red caviar.

Next week, sliced, diced, and lightly roasted bat testicles in Rum Bhaji.....

There those reading this thinking I made it up.....

Cold Callers beware !

2009-05-25T03:15:00.000-07:00

I had TWO Jehovah witness's annoying me yesterday, so I have put up this poster outside my home for future reference.

NO SOLICITING!

Unless you are someone giving things away, don't bother. If you do not fall into that category, I don’t want your magazine because I already have a subscription. I don’t want your newspaper because I already get it. I do not want to pay you to run, walk, swim, sit in baths of baked beans, shave your left ear off, cut off your testicles, jog, jog-walk, swim-jog, or walk-run, or otherwise do stupid exercises, via land, sea, or air for a good cause, I AM the good cause..

I will not pay you to cure nose-bleeds, as far as whales and less than cuddly wild animals in the Jungle go, I can manage OK without them, more room for us to build housing then.... I don’t want to fund your school trip to Mexico, Africa, Australia, or Brighton (I'd pay you NOT to go there). I genuinely hope that together we can help stop cancer, and I'll pray if that helps, just leave a note with your chosen religious preference so I know which church to go to.... while I’ll be more than happy to give you a free medical exam, I do not want to pay you to examine others, or infringe on their privacy either.

I do not want a “trial” anything, let me have a freebie when it works out. I do not want to pay you to leave me alone, that’s what this sign is for, I also have a rottweiler as back up, and I don't feed it...... I do not want you to keep standing in front of my door, reading this sign in the forlorn hope that I might have posted an exception for your particular breed of begging or cause celeb.

If you want my money, feel free to try robbing me. I am trained in 4 self-defence and lethal Kung-fu martial arts, I also carry a knife with a 10-inch blade, and the house is wired to self-destruct if you don't know the correct way to enter, and I will gladly extend your smile to your ears.

Please note, I don't want to vote for any political party, they're all B******S, nor to enter heaven, or worship Satan, religion is the opium of the masses, and I hate drug PUSHERS ! I do not want to join the league against cruelty to animals, because I either hate them, or I eat them, nor do I wish to save the local 500yr old oak tree, what has it ever done for me ?

If I have missed out your particular boring and begging issue, please look under the miscellaneous section of this notice, which covers everything I may have missed due to lack of space here. It should be noted I have a particular dislike for those trying to sell me double glazing, and beneath my patio is pretty full with those who have tried and died trying.

Thank you, now **** off, and the best of luck screwing over my neighbours.

Computers and Bananas

2009-05-25T03:13:00.000-07:00

Dunno about others by my computers and desktop gives a bomb site a bad name. Spare a thought then, for our poor civil servants who are having £7m quid spent on them to educate them into keeping their computers and desks in an orderly fashion, they've been given lists to tick off, and how to deal with them, e.g.

Do you have a banana on the desk ? is it (A) Active, or (B) Inactive ? or (C) is there something you aren't telling us on your CV ? Active meaning are you going to eat it, inactive meaning it is there for decoration, or throwing in front of the gopher when they're overloaded ?, maybe to stop the wind blowing your paper about ? Either way, ditch it. No coffee, pictures of offspring, animals, or present parters, fluffy bunnies with 'My other boss is an a******e too", on it, pens shaped like male genitals (Or female protrusions), and definitely NO stickers on the computer of any description, (or chintz curtains), defacing public property is a criminal offence.

Computers MUST be correctly aligned to each user (Feng Shui optional), and clearly marked with black duct tape, in case someone else uses your computer and you have to re-align it again, which is apparently time-consuming to the point 3 whole DAYS are lost each millennium re-arranging it again, so it's no put on, time is money. Mine has a pile of assorted letters, lists of curry, and pizza parlours and shops that flog you 500 cans of Patagonian sherry, or Icelandic Merlot for 75p a gallon, 2 battery chargers, (What ARE they for ?), CD's, and DVD's out of magazines with totally useless programs on them, bank statements, toffee wrappers, pictures of my favourite and winning rugby teams (from the 1970s mostly), and handbooks for my son's gameboys and such, and wires everywhere. My cat too is hiding down there somewhere..... she's having a love affair with my hard drive or something (Best not to ask...)

You have to clean your keyboard EVERY DAY, most germs love hanging around the qwerty key board between letters S, and @, don't neglect the numbers pad, they are seething with wildlife apparently, because we ignore them. However I KNOW where everything is and where it is going (IN the bin once a year when I have a clear out usually). Apparently 9 out of 10 employees stick their passwords underneath the computer keyboard, which results in various 'Chinese and malicious whispers' about the Boss and his junior secretary and their over-fondness for strip Excel being distributed to the entire Universe, and attributed to you.

Notices circulated include "YOU ARE BEING CONSTANTLY MONITORED.....(They've employed people who make nosy parkers look tame, most are full time voyeurs). NOTE: ANY LOGGING IN TO PORN SITES MAY MEAN DISMISSAL", (That isn't Ms Greyson on there but a look-alike, Ms Greyson is definitely blonde I can assure you), "THESE COMPUTERS ARE PUBLIC PROPERTY AND TO BE USED FOR WORK-RELATED NET USE ONLY, NOT, TO CHAT AWAY ONLINE TO SOME WEIRDO IN SOUTH AMERICA, (Who is an 83yr old baldy with a 90" waist, pretending to be an rich Argentinian polo player)." OR TO DISCUSS THE LATEST EPISODE OF BEASTENDERS. NO FLOWERS, THIS ISN'T A GARDEN CENTRE, and you thought blogging was the only hard bit.....

Beep Beep

2009-05-25T03:00:00.000-07:00

Baby you can drive my car, and maybe I'll love you... beep-beep, a beep-beep YEAH !!! the Beatles said it, but car drivers are going ga ga basically. They're the new hoodies. Take my ex-neighbour (PLEASE and I'll provide the straight jacket), he has never walked to the corner shop in the 8-9 years I've known him, it was just 150 yards away. He'd drive there for a bottle of milk, a newspaper, going a good mile or so out of his way because of one way streets etc, he'd take his dog too for 'excersize' and his child for a 'trip' out as well, he was bone idle basically, he also worked only 3 miles away and could have used public transport easily.

He uses £500 worth of satnav to get there as well....DOH !!! These people should have their cars taken off them.... or inserted into them. He should see a quack if his memory is that bad.. Not to be outdone the ladies nearby clog up every damn road within 5 miles of a school three times a day, because either serial killers are stalking our kids, or the kids will feel socially deprived and in need of a social worker, if made to walk the half mile or so to their homes, cruelty beyond belief, (it's called exercise apparently).

I'd walk to school AND back most of the time a good 4 miles each way, rain or shine (Mostly rain), my parents couldn't afford the fare. Afterwards parents who would rather drive than eat, get home from a hard 4 hours tail backlog, or doing the ring road, the equivalent of the dodgem track, and find said kids are demanding you drive them to clubs, groups, pop concerts, and boozers, as well. It's bad enough as they're probably 38 or something, and should really be finding their own way by now.

People now spend more on their cars than eating, drinking, or talking to anyone. They're bores, the biggest there is, "Ere Bert, my overhead camshaft disccumbooberator needs servicing, know anyone who can do it for less than £5,000? Like my new number plate ? had it made special I did, it was cheap too, only 3 numbers missing off it.... Each Sunday you'll find them tinkering around with engines and stuff, if the government is worried about oil shortages, just Hoover up their drives, we're back in business.....

Then they're using half of Brecon reservoir to wash their cars, (usually in the rain), and then spending a small fortune on polishing it as if it was the crown jewels or something, desperately trying to convince other car nerds, it is less than 2 years old, for the shame of it. It's affected family dinners on a Sunday. Soon as the gleaming pile of scrap is finished Dad gets a brilliant idea, let's all go for a DRIVE !! they usually then sojourn to the nearest Burger Bar or fast food garbage disposal point, and down enough cholesterol to fry a herd of buffalo.

"I get a little breathless walking to MacDonald's, I'd never be able to without my car, and it's 'quality time' with the kids isn't it ? ", which seems a good enough reason to scrap it to me.... heaven forbid we talk to them.... bloody new age nonsense, my parent never talked to me, didn't do me any harm....

Hello ? what's those funny things sticking out of my Bum ? LEGS ? what are they for ? you can do OTHER things besides pressing pedals in cars with them ? It'll never catch on.... It used to be £30 a week to own a car, now I gather, it's nearer £60 all told with hidden and other obvious taxes, in the realms of fantasy if you've got more than two.....

Who needs to eat anyway.... Should we not treat persistent car drivers as addicts ? perhaps open national branches of AA to treat this Automobile Addiction ? "I can't live, work or climb mount everest without my car.." some bespectacled moron on TV was stating the other week... so try Mont Blanc for goodness sake, get a life....... "I just would have no social life without my car...", another woman bleated after driving 50 yards twice a day, to see her sister.

Yes you would dear, cars make poor conversationalists take it from me, I've never had a decent discussion with any of them, Vauxhall Astra's are particularly difficult to pass the time of day with... . and Ford are all show.... Look at Jeremy Clarkson, (Better still let's NOT look at Jeremy Clarkson), he's made a living out of showing viewers how fast cars can be driven, (without having brain surgery).

He forgot to mention no road in the UK allows them at that speed, you have to find a desert in New Mexico or use the Sahara to do that, details, details... still if people get fed up of him showing off, they can always watch him being a grumpy old git on TV instead, the only thing he has going for him is he takes the pee out of Foreigners, he's good mind you, just not in my league......

If the shoe fits....

2009-05-25T02:44:00.000-07:00

I appeal to those ladies here with kids or have had them, to explain to moi, why, are shoe and clothing 'sizes' in shops a total lottery ? Being a mere male I would simply assume a size 7 shoe would still be the same size 7 even IF I went to a different shop to buy it, this isn't how its done ?

Last Saturday afternoon I took up the shopping cudgel and went with son of, to buy a pair of trainers, he usually takes size 5 my partner said, but they're tight, he is growing out of them again. I entered a shop called Shoe Express, and without looking at any shoes, I first asked the assistant if she could MEASURE son of, to determine exact size, from thenceforth, I would then select a pair within my price range and with perhaps a bit of colour or flair who knows ? This as spock would say, is the ultimate logical approach (Although flair is an essential human expression and has no direct bearing on functionality)...

Said assistant looked puzzled, disappeared for 10 mins came back with a block of wood with a tape measure stuck on it, after 5 minutes she said triumphantly, "Size SIX", so I had a look around selected a pair I and my sparse wallet would approve of , and tried them on, they were too SMALL .... I then selected no less than 9 pairs of various width size 6s, including a natty number with sequins (but enough of my preferences), to no avail, so not size 6 then ?

I suggested to the counter assistant. "The gauge doesn't lie," she bleated.... so my son's feet have grown while we have been making a shoe selection ? If they do that in 10 mins, We better get out before they get too big to go out the door....

I picked up a pair of size 7 and viola !!! they fitted OK, you shall go to the ball Cinders ! and they allowed for a bit of growth, as per guidelines. The size 7 they had that did fit, however didn't meet with son of's approval, "OI !", I pointed out, "I am paying I do the approving," (There, that's telling them)... I lost that argument, but undeterred, I went into FIVE other shoe shops (They breed here in High Streets apparently like banks and insurance offices.

I found, a size 5 in one was too BIG, a size 6 in another too small, a size 7 in yet another he could get BOTH feet into, have room to party, and make a comfortable living renting the other one out to Hungarian lettuce pickers.....

I ended up back at 'shoe express' with the size 7 there. Why, do shops publish a size, than you get 6 variations on that size, and they STILL don't fit ? how are us mere males supposed to know, that when you ask for a size then it depends WHERE you go, what that size IS ? Did you know ? (I didn't !), Adidas fives are too small, Nike fives fit nicely, but you need to mortgage your house, and Reebok fives are too big ? but they're always bragging anyway.

The cheap and cheerful shops that flog trainers for a fiver apparently will only fit Mongolian Midgets, Nellie the Elephant, or those with two right feet, two left feet, or Long John Silver...

They also had these funny euro numbers on them, buy six pairs and call house.... even that didn't help, a size 40 !!!! bluddy ell, what that's in bacon burgers ? so these shoe shops are flouting Euro rules as well ? zut alore's ! and American '42s' are apparently 50 somethings....

My partner later clarified, "Don't be silly ! it's like dress, or any clothes sizes etc, shops cater for a clientèle (not customers then ?), if you went in Clark's or wherever, then a size can vary according to which client they want to attract, if they don't like your jacket, then you won't get a shoe to fit you either, or if they are an old dodder like you, they want YOUNG, trendy, and stupid RICH, adventurous men and women about town (In Newport ? adventure here is Lime with your lager...), and prepared to diet till they drop.

The sort of people who worry about chicken with Lime and cabbage fillings, and drink blue nun, and saints preserve us, drink Carling Black Label in half's, without a belly that Jonah would never have emerged from......E.G.a size 10-12 dress could be a size 8 somewhere else (?), Beckham's missus has a size zero, that costs about £3,000 a throw.... (?), you won't find that in C&A's... (or find a C&A's so they tell me..). Men's trousers are usually OK, but the legs are modeled on a Giraffe, with elphantitis. I always have to hack about 3ft off the bottom of mine...

I managed to get a pair of trainers in the end for my lad, but think shopping, is only for the illogical.... hence why women do it.... I'm sure it's women shop assistants who probably drop the labels on the floor then stick them on the nearest shoe and dress too. "Ere Gertie, let's have a laugh, put a size 14 label on that size 8 and we'll watch them struggling to try it on lolololol !! then we can offload those size 24s we got hanging about....

It's a spectator sport isn't it ? a way to break the boredom of a shop assistants day....I found out that size 7 in the UK, is size 25.5 in Japan, size 6 in Mexico (Ole !), size 40 in Europe, size 9 in the USA, size 254 (Blimmin 'ek !), in Korea (no wonder they want to invade the South, and nuke Washington, they really ARE too big for their boots), and size 7 in Russia, although they could be 38, 39 or 40 take your pick.... nobody is going to argue with people that put plutonium in their tea, and glow in the dark....

I think it's the fact most clothes come from China, they never forgave us for Tetley's tea bags . For the larger ladies, an Asda size 18 dress, is almost a size 20, but a Tesco size 18 - is more economical it's a 14..... Don't get me going on EU sizing where a UK 5 is apparently an EU 7. I distinctly recall when I was a nipper (I'd bite your ankles), I'd be taken to a shoe shop, measured properly and shoes would actually fit.... now It's like mens Jackets, all they need is a few guide ropes and you could camp in them, or you're a walking advert for some obscure American baseball team....

Acceptance

2009-05-25T02:40:00.000-07:00

MM's Acceptance Speech for Best Blogging Newcomer to his local paper. It IS true I got an award for it.... really !

Thank you! Oh! Thank you! (Don't stop, or the cheque will), I can hardly believe this, I feel so lucky! and this wonderful wonderful prize, (pound shop must be green with envy....), and it's so heavy! I'm sure I can find a use for an old brick somewhere... someone is bound to leave a lap top on a car back seat ... Thanks too for the detailed instructions... Oh, thank you again! I just want everyone to read our the local tabloids, and that not even in my wildest fits of self-loathing, I never would have frantically prayed that this could ever help me get laid so much, and I'd just like to offer thanks, to the other second-rate nominees, that didn't make it, I want each of you to know how totally vindicated your jealousy makes me feel right now.

You know, when they first told me I was a God reincarnated on Earth, I just had to take a minute and brag about how great my experiences at local rag Blogging have been. I guess, getting this award, it all just makes me feel kind of humble and unique and special (I AM getting paid for this I hope ?).... You know, there are so many obsequious leeches to thank. First off though, I want to thank our esteemed editorial judge, our very own Mark, who looked deep within his wallet, by-passing many moths on the way, before giving me this fantastic award (Sniff....), another 400 and 49 and I can fix my front wall...... Also, I want to thank my guru and fellow blogger Bob, for being such a powerful force in ensuring a hard act to follow, and that spurs me on to even greater glories, and also again for Bob for offering to sabotage Gill to get me up here where I obviously belong. Male Power !

Bob taught me to take life by the horns, (although neglected to mention the pitfalls of toxic cow pats), I can tell you now he really isn't as grumpy as he makes out, it's an act... he's a right B*****D in reality, but then he does live in Caldicot, wouldn't you be miserable ?.... Finally, to the personal assistants I fired - I couldn't have done it without you! Keep on Blogging.....

Thank you, and good night.... Blainau Ffestiniog to you all.... Nos Da.

(I thought we agreed 500 ? not 50p and a free copy with melon juice thrown in next Friday? Look it's in my contract ! can't you read ? under section IV para 6...under extortion.... Free ? look sunshine is free, that effeminate actor with Grace brothers was free, I aint.. I gave up the Exchange and Mart for this ? Mark has been on holiday 6 times this year... Tredegar counts as well, so don't come it sonny or I'll find a use for this brick.)

Politicaly Incorrect ?

2009-05-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

I was reading one site today, and it was a 'rights' one (bluddy 'ell !), and they were moaning about Alf Garnet on TV years ago, how racist he was, (He wasn't he was exposing racism and bigotry but....), and how glad they were nobody makes 'humour' like that anymore, (True we've stopped laughing now they've provided input, the sad people). Typically, I assume they hold meetings like this now....

"First on the agenda today comrades, we have this 'englishman, Irishman, and a scotsman joke, what do you think... perhaps our new member Abdul would like to start off ? Thank you comrades, I think we have to ascertain first, is the term Englishman discriminatory ? (Hear Hear), perhaps an deliberate attempt to label people ? (Yes !!!), is this Englishman a disabled person ? (good point...good point), if not, why wasn't disability included into the Joke ? We're all equal now surely ? I'd like to see this Englishman described as placed in a wheelchair, and deaf and blind too if possible...

Mr Patel ? I suggest if we let 'Englishman' through, then does this suggest the Irish, the Welsh, and the Scottish are somehow inferior ? or even, not part of Great Britain ? Why isn't this Englishman BLACK ? (Yo man you is telling this bro how it is...), Is the joke suggesting English are all white people ? I tell you comrades, it's the thin end of the wedge (Meaning no disrespect to wider or even obese wedges, (Can we say obese ?), I suggest we refer this term back to the DRC/DDA/RSPCA/NSPCC/LAPD, and to our umbrella group of 35 organizations for clarification, agreed.... ?

Mutter, mutter... agreed, (I say no personally)...

Next on the agenda comrades, this collection of translations has been submitted, by our 'Free Iraq/Afghanistan and Gay Rights NOW!' coalition....do we allow them though ?

• "Kbar Khali-Kili Haftir Lotfan."
Thank you for showing me your marvelous gun.

• "Khrel, Jepaheh Maneh Va Jayeii Amrikahey"
I will tell you the names and addresses of many American spies travelling as reporters.

• "Tikeh Nuneh Ba Ob Khrelleh Bezorg Va Khube Boyast Ino Begeram"
The water soaked breadcrumbs are delicious, thank you. I really must have the recipe.

• "Ekr Gabul Cardan Davat Parh Gush Divar"
I am delighted to accept your kind invitation to lie down on the floor with my arms above my head with my legs apart, I'm sure it is relaxing.

• "Maternier Ghermez Ahlieh Ghorban"
The red blindfold would be lovely, excellency.

• "Howmaeh Fekr Tamomeh Oeh Gorteh Bande"
I agree with everything you have ever said and thought in your whole life.

• "Balli, Balli, Balli"
Whatever .....

• "Auto Arraregh Davateman Mano Sephaheh- Hasti"
It is exceptionally kind of you to allow me to travel in the trunk of your car.

• "Cashal-Eh Fashal-Eh Tupheman Na Degat Man Goftam Cheeshayeh Mohemarir Behmeshvarehma."
If you will do me the kindness of not harming my genital appendages, I will gladly reciprocate by betraying my country in public.

Carried unainimously........ ? Carried....

The recycled Blog

2009-05-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

I'm saving the planet.

I used public transport on Saturday, I didn't want to go anywhere particularly but the Media said I should catch a bus to save the planet. Turn your refrigerator down as well, they said, so I did that, and Sunday morning woke up to 60 quids worth of soggy rubbish in my fridge, and water up to my elbows.

Buy energy saving light bulbs they said, so I took out a small loan, and bought 3, so far I've had 4 accidents including a cut face, broken wrist, and an arm in a sling after being unable to see where I was going. I have also written to the Chinese Embassy in Wales in taffy Mandarin-speak, reiterating my profound concern they are polluting the buggery out of the planet, building 2 coal-fired power stations a week without one lump of welsh coal, and could I have the Noodles with fried egg rice, but in a paper bag, light on the sodium.

Switching on my French provided electricity, and cooking my Sunday Eco-friendly (I killed the cow personally with a club made out of renewable forestry), roast with Russian gas, I feel as positive as anyone can be, that Welsh people are doing their best to save the planet from Global warming, apart from listening to all that hot air emanating from Cardiff Bay, which is one area I think we are agreed would benefit from a rise in sea level.

I was rather hesitant, but decided it my duty to switch on the BBC, which is the font of all knowledge when it isn't trying to outdo Coronation Street with that other soap opera, and watch dutifully a concert organized by super-rich pop artists, none able to string a sentence together, and a few eco-scientists who had a bit too much Vimto to drink, who had flown in especially from their private Bahamian beach to educate us on how not to waste our carbon footprint.

Inspiring celebrities such as Les Dennis, and Jonathon Ross (Leading lights in the fight against Global warming in the UK), were reviewing 1970s has-beens like Sting, Genesis and the most boring people on the Planet, UB40, a group of nere-do-wells who really should be unemployed or at least sued for being so bloody patronizing, albeit they did drop everything, and fly in straight from Madagascar where they have been shooting their latest video... and listen to a few drunks swearing their heads off for effect. Eventually, I decided to make the ultimate sacrifice and switch the BBC off all day, thus saving a huge amount of waste carbon, and my TV from being disposed of rather un-eco-friendly way into my dustbin.

I've also got so many coloured boxes from my local authority, to sort my rubbish into, my front garden looks like the local branch of Legoland. I have to buy my potatoes locally, except here is somewhat of a desert, spud wise, so settled for the Egyptian ones instead, but the gravy was home-made. I've just had a notification not to order any goodies online as contrary to popular view, this puts more lorries on the road, and clogs up Milton Keynes, which while an otherwise brilliant idea, means the illegal immigrants would have difficulty picking strawberries, thus making Wombledon a non-starter... it was a hard call, we must all do our bit. We kept recycling Henman, but the foreigners keep sending new people, we are doing our best. We found a Scottish bloke with a sneer....

My local supermarket has gone on the gravy train and refused to give me a bag to carry the goodies home in, so I am trying to balance about 40 items on my head like they do in certain parts of Africa and elsewhere, I'm unsure it will catch on... If we had their sunshine it may be more appealing. They will sell me disposal eco-friendly bags for £25 a throw, with pretty pictures on of people struggling in the 3rd world, although some come from Bradford I gather.

My better half only shops at pound shop, and those second hand charity shops now, to recycle goods, except I think Edwardian top hats, and 70s flares make me look slightly ridiculous, my son is completely dumbfounded after playing the mantovani CD's we got him, and may need expensive therapy.... perhaps it's a false economy.

My son at school has also been asked by his teacher to push Dad for a a cheque of 50 quid so he can go on a trip with the school to watch the Local Council empty rubbish bins, and then write an essay on how best they could improve on this to save our planet. My suggestions emptying them every week would be a start, and not scattering 50% over the road outside would help, as well as limiting the huge amount of vermin that has overrun my home, and the maggots and wildlife that has sprouted in my bins, we don't all go fishing.

Said children then sojourn to MacDonald's, to get a "Junior Planet Saviour" citation from Newport's mayor, a cheeseburger, with medium fries, and thence to the latest sweet shop to scatter more rubbish than Rio-De-Janeiro's underclass can manage...

Not to be outdone, our LA then gives them yet other awards for clearing up the rubbish they are throwing everywhere, now that, is recycling, I'm unsure they should be creating that rubbish in the first place, but was told I was illiterate eco-wise.... and his school's health program is sponsored by Cadbury's and MacDonalds... so what do I know ?

All about Crippas...

2009-05-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

That Christmas thing was all a lark isn't it ? It wasn't until about 200 years after Christ's death that Christians even thought about celebrating his birth, then they thought BINGO ! let's celebrate his death as well, two parties instead of one.....December the 25th was chosen to turn people away from celebrating other (Pagan) holidays in that time of the year, (Like flying down to Rio to escape the bloody cold), and tree-hugging got banned.

Jesus was reputed to have been born in April, but I don't wanna be a killjoy. The Romans, celebrated Saturnalia in December, It was a time of feasting and parties, not that the average and pillaging Romans needed an excuse for a booze up. Northern Europe had a holiday known as Yule. They celebrated this holiday by making great fires, the Romans used them instead of logs.....They then would dance around the fires, yelling for the winter to end, and rather failing miserably, but what's new in Europe anyway ? they probably still do it but with square logs and a dozen directives or something.

A lot of people kept some of the old customs -- such as burning a Yule log and having feasts and parties, throwing up on public transport, getting drunk in charge of your mule, and then falling off your ass etc, quaint old customs we still fondly adhere to, tradition isn't dead, it's just adopted megabites as the norm. The Christmas tree, was reputed to have started in Germany, as the Germans settled in new lands e.g. England, Buckingham palace, (Austria around 1939), they brought with them this tradition (And some very dubious dancing in leather shorts), in fact it is a lot older, us British pagans brought trees into our hovels over a 1,000 years ago, then promptly burnt them to keep warm, we aint daft, the Germans froze their bums off instead, each to their own.

Saint Nick, lived in Turkey, no one knows much about him, or his weird obsession to employ elves to make toys, his proclamations he could fly, and have a sledge pulled by a reindeer's, in one of the most Islamic countries in Europe, that hasn't seen snow since 5 billion BC, I suspect he didn't last long. That's the thing with odbods, they either make them saints or kebab them, maybe he got lucky. There are stories that he often helped children in need (An early Pudsey but with a different hat). Holly has a history too, 'soft' holly is feminine, and the prickly kind (Let's not go there), is masculine, depending on what was available, if the soft variety was brought in, ladies would rule the roost for a year, otherwise the men did. what else could they do, no coins they could toss... and why did nobody discuss the relevance of the berries ?

Saints abound besides Nick, (named after an angel that got the chop from the best seat in the house as I recall from my chapel days, and has since got a bit paranoid about it, according to the film industry), there's St Marks of Spencer, patron saint of boring clothing, St Oxfam, patron saint of mothballs, and the High Street, St Vandal, patron saint of the Borough Council's planning dept, St George of the Bush, patron saint of paranoiacs, and the intellectually challenged, St Greed, patron saint of business, commerce, and Government Dept's, Saints Preserve us, patron saint of obscure blogs, and the ramblings of politicians, St Joan of Arc patron saint of Bonfire night, beating our very own Guy Fawkes by a few years, and St Asbo patron saint of chavity, to name a few, Bing Crosby must be spinning in his celestial golf course.

More Talk TV

2009-05-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

Vision On ? "You have 20 minutes, to create a flower arrangement to kill for, starting..... NOW! ....

Look how brilliantly she's used that red hot poker horizontally as opposed to vertically to maximise the effect..", (Poker ?), "The bamboo intersect, and peonies, with the basic Ivy relief, is truly inspirational..", (Just shoot me now..), "and the inclusion of the two rotting pears, so you are unable to differentiate if they are conference pears, or in fact faded quince, and a ford hubcap, creates an almost surrealistic and iconic image, guaranteed to titillate and force our otherwise limited visions and perceptions of the world as it is, and to shows us what it could be... it's nature in the RAW.

It's beauty and the beast, eco versus urban, it's brutal, sensual, yet subtly romantic as well, forcing us to confront our own inner conflicts with life, love, death, the point of the national lottery magic numbers game, and the painful reflections of that doomed romance we all had with the common parsnip, it's become a metaphor for Zen, for Yoga, for Yoko Ono's mind numbing gallery with 200 pictures with smile written on them, and a piece of string that challenged even the most acute scientific minds of the 20th century at the time, how long REALLY was it ? is 11 inches all it ever was ?

Was it true if you travel at umpteen times the speed of light, the utility bill will still always get there first ?" I'm beginning to see daytime TV in a new light myself, previously I had assumed it was for the senile, the care home fraternity, and the incompetent, now clearly (Come by yer Lord, Come by yer... ), this excerpt from a gardening program, shows us it is in reality, an art form, that puts Da Vinci and Einstein in the shade.

Exiled as I was from the real world of the interwibble, I passed some of the time watching the TV again, I really had not been giving it the attention the rest of the world had to my chagrin, and eternal shame, and found I was ostracized from the social graces and circles, and had nothing to talk about in mixed company at all. I determined at great cost, to sit down switch the thing on, and see what the fuss was about, that or become some social pariah for eternity, although it hadn't bothered me at all until now.

I discovered strictly come dancing or something was now part of the national psyche, we laughed at it in my day, as outdated, and for middle-class loonies, and sent it to that TV graveyard in the sky with Mike Aspel, and the black & white minstrel show. The new version, was in colour, and noisier, but didn't look a lot different, except it looked like a clearing house for failed z-celebs to revive flagging careers, (those that had one in the first place, I had no idea who was in, out, or shaking it all about to be honest), I rapidly got past caring, so evidently some semblance of sanity still existed. Being a social pariah looked more appealing by the minute.

I surfed channels, discovered some MORE 'celebs' being silly in an Australian jungle and and having insect and wildlife thrown at them for good measure, nothing fatal unfortunately, but I expect that will follow at some point, the hosts were two child actors who still hadn't attained adulthood despite hitting 20 or so, or started shaving even. It was getting a little surreal... then I was getting bored, another show people talked about was an X factor program, not celebs this time taking part as participants, but as self-elected 'judges', who ridicule people to boost their own image, whoa ! stop this TV world I want off.

Had I my hearing I would have gone back to radio and Mrs Dales Diary, and worried about Jim a bit more, swine flu, and fowl pest. If the sum total of social 'ins' and outs is a comprehensive knowledge of television, I'm glad I'm out of it. Stick with it, a relative goaded me, you'll never have to worry what to say when you're out and about now. I thought I had already solved that issue by not going out and ignoring silly, and shallow people talking crap about TV programs, but..... I don't mind discussing real issues, but television isn't real is it ? If it is, we are all in trouble....

Pleasant Valley Sundays

2009-05-24T07:49:00.000-07:00

These Happy Days are yours and mine (oh Happy Days)
These Happy Days are yours and mine (oh Happy Days)
These Happy Days are yours and mine, Happy Days.

A blog about younger days of derring-do in the welsh valley, and in response to Blackwood protest groups who don't want alcoholics undergoing treatment in the house next to them (lol !! Blackwood !! DOH ! They invented alcoholism...).

After venting my enlarged spleen at Blackwood Nimby's, (even I wouldn't live next to them let alone a few poor patients doing rehab... It's enough to drive them BACK to drink). I was suddenly overcome, (Not my usual forte I have to say, tetley's is about my limit now), with a bout of nostalgia for the old area, once my stomping ground.

Saturday night at the 'Stute' was the highlight of my week usually, that is, after starting out pub crawling first, We'd go into the 'valleys' to get a warm up, then hit every other pub until we got to the stute, including a few in Bargoed, two in Pontllanfraith (where we downed copious amounts of barley wine), and one in Argoed (Don't ask me about Argoed, it's the Brigadoon of East Wales, I've never found the place since), to arrive usually about 3 minutes before they locked the doors against us, your drinking timing had to be perfect, it was an art form.

Up until this time the dance floor would have been filled with the young ladies with no young man in sight, no lad of my age would have been seen dead in a dance Hall before 11 pm, you're street cred would be zero.... Thereafter it was a pitched battle to see which of us was able to stand up long enough to dance, and find a woman desperate enough to give you a snog, failing that you would punch someone.

I had my first long term girlfriend there, but sadly I got ratted one night, and walked out on her (Sorry if Sandra is reading this, but think how lucky you have been). There were 'torch' singers there, (some you'd want to set fire to), and every time I think of Bobby's Girl it takes me back (Where did I lose those matches ?)...then there was Colin Baker's band, I worked with his brother, but no groups, we had to go next door to get that in the coffee bar.

We rebelled once, and lobbied for Hank Marvin and the Shadows to come to the Stute, but they wanted £2,000 a show then, which was a fortune, not like now where that wouldn't even buy Britney a baby-sitter for an hour...

By about 11-30 pm a 7ft police Sergeant would always be there to sort out the odd razor slash or boot decorated bonce, happy days..... The MC was a potato porter by day at Portlocks an vegetable market wharehouse, and was immaculately dressed, I think he was one of those ballroom refugees or something...you'd get snow blindness off the glare on his shoes, and he wore white gloves, when the lights dimmed you'd think Al Jolsen had entered the room.....

Thursdays would see us at the Memo in Newbridge, same routine, get drunk, get dragged into the hall, get thrown out in time for the last bus.... The Memo was a real rough house then, not now where some obscurest group is claiming it is a listed building or art treasure or something, times HAVE changed ! It was usually the young women who carried bicycle chains in their bag you had to worry about, and wore stilettos, not the odd 'Ted' with razor blades sewn into his lapels or shoe.

My mate lost most of his nose there, cured his cold 'though... It got too rough at some point, and I deigned to attend the Workman's Hall at Cwmfelinfach, which by comparison was a sedate affair, I still have the scar from the stabbing I got for looking at someone the wrong way, usually I was so drunk I couldn't see above knee height, let alone at their face the wrong way.. My teen years are memories of knees mostly, nor faces.

I needed sophistication, so I dumped the denim, and put a suit on and went to Newport's Stow Hill ballroom once to get it, it was like a scene from Shawn of the Dead really, they could have filmed Thriller there.... I'd have run out if they hadn't locked us in....myself and my mate were cornered, and paired off with the two youngest women there, both had ballroom gowns on Queen Victoria would failed to be amused with, and neither was under 60, there were 12 people there, and the music was by the Hollies, surreal !

Sophistication in Newport clearly lagged well behind the valleys, for years I thought Newport was a care home....... now it's like the valleys were, but they still don't dress as well, or have as much fun....

TV what IS it for ?

2009-05-24T07:30:00.000-07:00

I have discovered TV again after years of being online, most of it down to the belligerence and sheer obscurity of my internet service provider, who, quite happily will take a debit from me for providing a service, while at the same time not provide it until I make 40 quids worth of begging telephone calls and wait 3 weeks. It's a wonder we ever got to make a moon landing, probably thought it was Luton..

Tis a funny thing television, it contains images and films and stuff of people doing stupid things and no doubt being grossly over-paid for so doing. Erstwhile, I had viewed it as a piece of furniture that covered a damp patch on the wall, mercifully since the house move, not something I now need it for, and colour too it seems, last images I can recall with any clarity was on a 14 inch sobell black and white set, in the far distant past, which flashed alarmingly and gave epileptic status a boost awareness-wise, it had me glued to riveting shows like I Love Lucy, the lone ranger, and Sergeant Bilko, flipping though various channels (I discovered there are more than 3 now, and a pope had died), both shows are still going strong, so we've had 40 years of TV for... what exactly ?

So while waiting for the vagaries of my ISP to play through to forceful inconclusions, I decided perhaps I might be missing something that many friends and acquaintances say I have been doing for years, "You should have seen Eastenders this week !", or "Emmerdale had an gas explosion and a house fell on someone's head !", "Hollyoaks (?), Matt is lush..etc?".. the sun is shining etc... I fell asleep trying to watch them sadly, is it supposed to do that I wonder ? There was that woman who was in r u being served ? being miserable, no need for this old dog to learn new tricks, if it works why fix it ?

Emmerdale farm had lost all it's animals, (I blame Matt for losing Dolly myself, the cloning didn't work, too much wool), and its no sheep and no bo-peep in sight, just itinerant Irish families living next door to millionaires, as apparently Yorkshire folk do, while avoiding jumbo jets and public houses, falling on them. I knew Northern life was tough but not THAT tough ! Hollyoaks I thought was a soft porn channel, we were lucky to see ankles in my day, now everyone's showing their breakfast, lap dancing, and pouting at the camera, in my day Health and Efficiency was the bees knees.

Until I read that at the tender age of 15, I thought women wore bra's to keep xmas puddings in shape, or had bums on their chest too, I couldn't look at a cow for years afterwards without blushing. Weather forecasts have changed, it's now a fashion show with occasional glimpses of clouds and stuff, while reporters (Surely looking at the window is easier ?), vie for 'celeb' status, preach imminent Armageddon, which is all the go now I gather, one day you're reporting snow in the Cairngorms (Boring I agree).

Then next you are plastered over some red topped tabloid, pissed as a newt, showing your knickers, and complaining you are a private person entitled to a life, woe is me..etc, surely if you want privacy you don't appear on a television show ? OR a night club looking like an old soak, or insist on attending the opening of EVERY fridge ? It's like a bus driver whinging people expect them to drive buses all the time....

They've this 'reality' thing going now, which shows dysfunctional people out on day release being well, real, as apparently they see it from their side of the rubber wallpaper. The upside is if you can include as many swear words as you can, wear womens clothes and make up, then your bank balance is set to rocket skywards, unlike us average Joe's who usually gets a fine an ASBO, or intensive counseling, a civil rights lawyer, or a criminal record. Displaying what a total prat you are means mega-status apparently.

I must have missed out somewhere, parking tickets are small fry these days. They've got 'competitions where you sing, dance, or plead your life is over unless some judge or other picks you, or at the very least slates you so badly a few viewers feel sorry for you, or a tabloid offers you silly money to swear back at the judges, and they tell them about their Uncle Arthur's problems with tights, and unhealthy infatuation with flock wallpaper.

Don't the participants KNOW they can't sing, dance, or have any talent ? and they're only there so judges can look good ? Perhaps these deluded souls deserve all they get. Now even 'celebs' que up to be insulted, and attempt to dance, no such thing as bad publicity apparently, and yep you got it, weather reporters and daytime TV refugees are there too. One judge said "WOW! last week he didn't know his left from his right arm," yes we knew that, watching him reporting rain in Cardiff while pointing at Lowestoft was a clue, but...

"This week he discovered he had a third foot... and bossa-novad like a true pro, pity it was a waltz but.." Or you can watch a show in a Jungle where these silly people have scorpions thrown at them, or they have to eat testicles.

God! daytime television, surely it's the answer to all the NHS's problems, a permanent and relatively free diet of tranquilizing animated wallpaper ? In my day women's hour lasted well, one hour, not 25. You get adverts for stuff we used to buy in brown unidentifiable wrapping years ago, and of a 'personal' nature quite unsuited for sensibilities of a tender displacement like what I have.

Medical shows that show surgeons drilling holes in people's heads for sport, insert wires in your brain then play about "Watch this Claude, put 2 volts there and his ears wiggle, try 3 volts... bloody 'ell ! is it supposed to be that big ? I think I'll try that ! it will please the wife no end, and I can go off to the pub as well..she'd never know !", and then breaking the good news, bad news for us all to cringe at.

Good news is the anesthetist was sober today, bad news, we amputated your leg by mistake, we will of course, remove the ingrowing toe-nail free... not that it will make much difference you've only got 4 weeks at most..... GOTCHA !!!! People without a face, people with too much of one, (I can think of at least 40 'celebs' who fit that bill), people with no legs, people with ingested mobile phones, palm tops, and cultivating trendy ipod diseases.

Plastic surgery, "I wasn't happy with my nose, I felt people kept looking at me and I wasn't able to work for 45 years, I saved up £50k on my DSS benefits and had it put right, now I am the star of my Darby and Joan club, can easily play that ducking apple game at Halloween now without resuscitation standing by, and even Micheal Jackson asked for a photo of it, I am 62 now and saving up for a 53" breast impant...", go for it gal I say... but it may prove difficult not sleeping on your back, I'd have two at the back to balance it up if I was you, try a BOGOF clinic and save money.

Cooking is 'in' too, (always was with me, I find cooking food makes it more edible than chewing it raw). There are voting competitions "Is it the green onion ? or is the yellow plum ? hold your cards up.... its a yellow plum !!! (The half cooked rice, boiled shoe leather, with turkey twizzlers and grass dressing swung it), "Smell that ladies and gennelman," some buffoon says, "Doesn't that tickle your old taste buds ?", erm no... how can it ?

What the hell IS he like ? Wine shows ? Château la Fifi 2003 today, not to be mistaken for turps and to be used for cleaning your paint brush, (although it will do both equally well, turps is cheaper, and probably tastes better too), and is only £3.99 at Tesco's, is flavour of the day to go with your pork pie, and chips with onion gravy, bit of a faux pas apparently to drink Mexican lager with it I gather.

There is also Old Macduff's blended (some barrels fell over), whisky which is a blend of of 13 Australian hops, (Skippy, geddit, lolol oh well...), with a touch of Albanian Rioga or something, with a label on imploring us not to open it near naked flames, as it explodes like a downtown Baghdad police centre. They're bored at TV centre I think, as they've switched to having cooking chefs present hospital programs and antique dealers showing us how to hang wallpaper, they are running out of ideas clearly , still there are always animals or summat.

Rolf Harris or some other Australian exile who should have remained deported, showing us how they cark it despite non-essential intensive surgery for the cameras. At Longleat where some crazy aristo has lions in his paddock for you to look at for 40 quid a day, and monkeys that piss on you and eat your windscreen wipers, what fun, I've lived a sheltered life via internet usage clearly, as I pointed out surely an advantage of internet usage is that monkeys cannot pee on my keyboard ? or Lions chew my leg off for the tourists ? or I waste 40 quid and drive 120 miles away ? At least on a TV screen they can't bloody bite me.

Shows that tell us how other people's kids are a lot bloody worse than ours are, to make us feel not completely worthless and useless, and how a nanny with a whip, and what to do with a naught chair, can get them behaving almost normal, whatever normal is these days. It must be a great relief to some hard done by parents to find their child has discovered chairs are for sitting on and not for throwing through your windows, or hitting you over the head with. I was tempted to find other uses for chairs, like putting them through TV's, or clobbering nannies, and social workers with.

There's batty and deranged females who just love to clear the filth we have in our homes, although I can't get them to clear up mine, who salivate and relish the tough of clearing up dead rats from behind your fridge or the odd body under the stairs, vinegar is the new Daz apparently, and bi-carb has hitherto and hidden depths (as well as breaking up that farting feeling), with oil stains on your bath taps.

I nearly became an authority on designer sling backs watching one some Glaswegian woman waffling on about how having 100 pairs of shoes is the norm or something, I've only got two (Not sling backs obviously, they play havoc with my toes), one for best (weddings, funerals, or in case prince Charles or Queenie pops in), and steel-toe capped ones for work or trotting off to the supermarket, who needs more ?

Who said TV isn't educational ? I couldn't wait to get back online if truth be told, perhaps I'll sneak a look in another 10 years... or perhaps mercifully, NOT. I'm well out of modern day living, my garden hasn't a water feature which is a sign of abject poverty I gather, nor cream painted walls which apprently means I am 'of a certain age', like.... when sanity ruled.

It's Monday, we must be in Greece...

2009-05-24T07:03:00.000-07:00

Zao an ! fellow Bloggers, wo shi ni de ba ba ! ni yao niao niao ma ? (which as every school child is soon to know, means Bore Da, I'm the daddy, do you want the toilet bach ? Vital phrases they will all have to learn, if our government gets their way with the curriculum again. So you thought Maths was a bugger ? try counting this way yi, er, san, shi, wu, liu, qi, ba, jiu, shi... just gets better don't it !, just when Ihave just grasped the vagauries of un, dau, tre, pedwar,, they move the bloody goalposts again... but hold on Mao ! they also may have to learn Urdu, so Salam Alekum/Subha Ba-khair! kids, Kya onion Bhajis.

It seems fraught with issues if you ask me, so having abandoned Welsh (And English), in many of our schools, Our government is to tailor our kids education to meet the demands of the modern world, vital indeed, if we are ever to emigrate to Asia, Australia (Or New Zealand if you are too stupid to get in there), or the middle east looking for a job, I thought we invented sweat shops not worked in them ? When are we likely to go to Beijing for a job ?

Languages broaden the mind, it broadened mine.... I read on one web site, that deaf people who use sign language also want that taught to every hearing child in education as well, so our kids are going to be real busy...

Languages are supposed to be useful for holidays too,whether the deaf community is building a Disney destination or 'Deaf World' I don't know.....

I recall a holiday to Greece some years ago, when I went to with my mate Daffyd, I didn't parlez any francais, (or knew stork from butter but...), we Brits are intrepid travelers, so long as there is a toilet nearby, we don't have to drink the water, or have to talk to the natives. I went via Athens, I was greatly surprised, I had booked for Milan, but... because Athens is a typical Greek one horse town, with a ruin on the top they charged me 50p to look at, (you'd think with all that dosh they're put a roof on...), it's what comes of being stuck in that no-man's land of the euro, Ianto (the Brick), our local builder, would have turned that into luxury flats, or a drive-in Tabernacle and sheep pen in no time.... .

The guide said this is the centre of Greek learning and Zeus lived here as well apprently, I said all that education, and they still didn't realize a roof kept the rain out ? Dew ! even we know this.... The language tended to be a bit iffy, it was hard work getting a drink there, they drink ouzo or something, which to the uninitiated, is like diluted Squid pee (for those who are conny sewers in squid pee), and after a bottle or two, it tends make you believe you are Mario Lanza on speed, Daffyd's rendering of Daffyd ap yr darran Gwyn, after a few bevvies brought the house down and attracted half the Greek Navy..... (All 6 of them), they ended up throwing their china at him. I didn't think he sung that badly...

I tried to buy some some lagers, and started (off as you do topically), to induce a bit on Bon Homme ((But not too much, I still like the ladies), and went with the time-honoured, '"Oi Davros ! wasn't you in Dr Who ? lololol, Exterminato ! Exterminato ! Ca va ? se voo play, two TWO !! parlez booze, biggos...ise play comprende luvvy ? I was kept waiting hours, I said to Daffyd, bloody 'ell Daff, it's harder than trying to find a Welshman in Cardiff innit ? Daffyd has all sorts of levels (And a few uneven bits), in languages and colloquial wotsits, he's well known for it, (although he's served his time, fair do's, give the boy a chance now...), and can commune with his sheep by proxy (Well, it's all legal, and it is the millennium).

Let me have a go, he says, you have to pitch it right, it's the foreign temperament boyo, one wrong inflection, or over accentuation of an adverb, a slip of the intonation, a veritable over emphasis of the extrapolation, and you could end up marrying the local donkey at the very least, and she aint all that pretty...so mind you out of the way...you've got to expect they're a bit slow, it's all that sun and shangri-las they drink....they put lime in their tea or something foul.... they talk funny, and they can't play rugby, it's all that garlic I expect....nobody would scrum down with them...

I always admired Daffyd, he's been banned everywhere, and is a true citizen of the world, he can order beer in 57 languages....RESPECT ! what he doesn't know doesn't bother me, because I only drink beer anyway....he then launches into "Oi garkon ! 2 pints of old Zeus's paint stripper, or I'll start shouting, Cyprus for the Turks....!! kapish ? nope... he's not getting far either, dew its harder than I thought he said, must be a sub dialect branch of Greco-de-milo, I'm none too hot on that...... or we're in Switzerland...

AH ! he said, the peso had dropped, (and I'm not picking it up, I've heard all about Greeks and their Kebabs, and over fondness for mutton), ...., he shouts, "Jawol mine petite ! there's a lovely lad you are indeed, your mother's beauty is equal to Medusa's, and I bet your father has sired many goats hasn't he ? (He's trying the subtle approach clearly), dilch bier ya ? un quicko as you please maestro bach, un throato parchio.. "

15 minutes later, two waiters turn up with a dead goat on a plate, with an orange in it's gob, and a side order of lentils, I begin to suspect Daffy's Greek isn't quite up to it... We're still banned from Greece apparently, not that I'm bothered, I never liked Demis Roussos anyway.... Franco had it coming..... or is that Portugal? Perhaps I do need a course in Mandarin..... Shanghai lido here I come..... As you can read via my holiday memories, and the wide amount of traveling I've done, has boosted my language skills and world geographical awareness no end......... and established a brilliant mutual admiration of the welsh culture and the rest of the world. No doubt why, the European parliament, drew a map of Britain with Wales under 60 foot of Irish sea.....

So who needs Europe anyway .....

It's In the (Virgo) stars

2009-05-24T06:46:00.000-07:00

I've consulted the oracle, and now the stars, here's one from many I had sent to me via a request online, hoping I could get to the ball this year..... or at least wrest a tenner from Camelot.

MM's stars this week:

Your week's scenario is highlighted by you being in the right place at the right time when a possibility for romance peaks around the corner (just hope the missus isn't reading this). A chance for a new relationship could emerge from a very unlikely source (So could a letter asking for a divorce).

Be aware of your surroundings (Sober up), and be open to what comes. Trust your instincts in matters of the heart (You and Liz Hurley would never work, just accept it). This is one time when you might have to question whether appearances are that important (That mohair jacket, and yellow shirt won't cut it, flares are out again too).

Your attention to detail could unearth errors in a crucial project (a square metre is different to square foot, 10s not 12's, stupid European, not Westminster edicts). You may be tempted to lay the blame where it rightly belongs, (It's everyone's fault not mine). For the sake of the team effort, however, hold your comments for now (Leave the deaf alone, blame the dog), and concentrate on correcting the eorers. Your cooperative attitude will be noticed, as will your analytical skills (spectacles permitting).

You are the logical type and hate disorder (except if you meet a Serbian, then, Z before X instead of J is the rule, think consonants not vowels), but this nit-picking is sickening to your friends. You are cold and unemotional (waste not, want not, that's my way...). Virgos make good bus drivers and pimps..

You are methodical and practical. This is why the whole world hates you. You have the heat of a dead boa and, to make sorrow with your entourage, is your daily bread (I'm not paying for this...). Virgos make excellent prison gaurds (This is doing my CV a lot of good, toilet sweeper was the best I could manage).

Troubles in your romantic relationship are brewing under the surface (wedding anniversary yesterday ? ooops ). Pretending they aren't there and hoping they will go away, or suggesting you had a short bout of alzheimers... is not the best plan.

The premiere of yet another season on TV of 'Britain's got less talent than tripe salad', has prompted you to stop being polite and start getting real. But alas, your sudden change in behaviour has not awakened ITV's interest in your petty little life (No need to be like that...), despite the fact that you continue to send weekly letters with "PAY ATTENTION TO ME" scrawled across the envelope in giant red letters.

In desperation, you'll kidnap some chick who looks vaguely like Britney Spears, imprisoning her in your basement while you attempt to take over her life as a hot and horny geriatric-singing sensation (Well, it worked for Tom Jones.... and Rod Stewart)."

So there you have it, is there something in this astrological guff, apart from coining it calling people stupid ?

Astrological funny....How many Virgos does it take to change a lightbulb? Usually just one. However, they will need to clean the sockets, read comparative consumer information about light bulbs, check the wiring and read all the warranties, guarantees and refund policies (Better safe than sorry surely ?).

A virgo's lot is not a happy one, HA-AA-PY ONE......... !

The Bloggers Diet

2009-05-24T06:29:00.000-07:00

I've gained a few pounds recently or a kilopede or two (whatever your persuasion is), personally I rejected metrication the day it came out on religious grounds, it was against my religion to pay for 2 kilo-wotsits of Cox's (Hello Vicar), pippins, when I only wanted 2 lbs. I still only buy fruit and veg from one local trader who begged me not to name him in case some politically correct nerd from weights and measures on t'council, jumps on him demanding his 100 grammes of flesh, and asking why his prices aren't in dongs, Rupees, and Europs or summat.

My better half (three-quarters nearly but don't quote me), suggested leafy green things, one associates with grazing sheep or rabbits, stuff scraped from the bottom of a parrot cage, de-caf (?) coffee (Despite my ailment), bread with sand in it, low-calorie, low fat, and high priced processed stuff you need to irradiate first and tastes like shoe leather, and bottled water taken from a volcanic spring in North Wales, despite we aint had an eruption since Dino's ruled the earth, surely the water must be questionable by now ?

That or, running from here to Lands End and back a few times might help slim me down a bit. I suggested other more USEFUL Calorie-burning activities, as we know, proper weight control cannot be attained by dieting alone; (Starving yourself we used to call it), albeit if you have a few yashmaks spare you can get it sliced off by some surgeon, who will charge you by the pound, however, many people who are engaged in sedentary occupations, (Like us lot here slaving over lukewarm TVs, and surfing t'net), do not realize that calories can be burned by the hundreds by engaging in strenuous activities that do not require much (or any) physical exercise at all, it's a fallacy physical effort is required to keep fit, this appealed to me...

E.g. try this cerebral 'blogging' guide to calorie-burning activities, while responding to online issues, and the number of calories per hour they consume, for those of a technical bent... sorry no idea if this is metrication or Imperial, I think you double it, multiply by 32.457, juggle 16 lemons with one hand, then drink 6 cherry brandies to get the correct statistic, or you could of course skip the maths and just drink the brandies, that's what I do...

Beating around the bush . . . . . . . . .75
Jumping to conclusions . . . . . . . . . 100
Climbing the walls . . . . . . . . . . . 150
Swallowing your pride. . . . . . . . . .50
Passing the buck . . . . . . . . . . . .25
Pushing your luck. . . . . . . . . . . 250
Making mountains out of molehills. . . 500
Hitting the nail on the head . . . . . .50
Bending over backwards . . . . . . . . .75
Running around in circles. . . . . . . 350
Climbing the ladder of success . . . . 650
Swimming against the tide................ 450
Throwing the wobbly.............. 150
Hurling insults...... 200

I like the one I read about a few days ago, that drinking 4 pints of beer a day helps you live a few years longer, which means I'm OK for the next 200 years already.... I find that avoiding surveys, diets, and TV in particular, which is populated with celebrity idiots, who think anorexia or obesity, are countries to the left of Yugoslavia...... and we all know they are in South America...

Memories

2009-05-24T03:06:00.000-07:00

Memories Like the corners of my mind
Misty water-coloured memories
Of the way I were..

Feeling a wave of nostalgia coming on (And the Tele had nothing worth watching again), I decided to take son of on trip down memory lane, to wander and thus ponder on the origins of his Dad... It came about via our last house move when he said we were 7 years in the last house, do we move again in another 7 years ? back to our old house ? I said if J-lo was naked and covered in bara brith it still wouldn't tempt me to wander down that memory lane. I'd never get to the end without being sworn at, mugged or treading in something, and they never change the graffiti for something new, I'll show you my favourite area/school an all 'tha, so you can compare it with the what you get today.

We arrived first at Ynysddu, which is mentioned in History books as MM's nirvana... I pointed to.. (Where's it gone ?), a pile of thorns and an open space, that's where I used to practice with my rock band many years ago, when Ozzy was a slip of a lad and still chomping on bats... oh well, press on, this building here (That's gone too !), was a green tin shed that was steeped in history, first erected on a mountain side in 1915 or thereabouts, flattened by a hurricane and then re-assembled, here it served as a community centre and church, son of is unimpressed, seen one open space with grass then afterwards it tends to be a bit well... boring. Did dad live in a cave or was a traveling hobo who slept on the mountainside or something ?

It transpired my old haunts have all been bulldozed over or left to nature, which was rather unkind, especially as nature seemed an improvement. Not even a monument to when MM ran down Cwmfelinfach's high Street naked for a dare in 1968 ? His band making its debut in bottom club Wattsville, where they sold the place out, and with us only knowing 3 tunes too....Or a plaque over my old house to say MM woz yer or something ?

I'd given 40 odd years to that area, that's a lot of booze to the Pioneer hotel, now a run-down establishment where furtive people sneak in under cover of darkness I gather, for an illicit half. I should have known after reading the obituary columns (Always a good idea in the run-up to Xmas, saves stamps), nostalgia aint what it used to be. I'd have done better planning a tour of the local graveyards...

Everyone has grey or no hair, who are these people I ponder ? Images of my mis-spent youth now in Marks and Spencer clothing and walking tiny dogs around the streets, wearing brown shoes, or hobbling along with sticks and pausing every 5 inches for a breath or two... ahhh I remember your Dad on the rugby club committee arrrr (Who are these people ? is it open or day release time ?)..

Trees, for some reason there has been an explosion of them around that way, in my time there weren't any worth a candle and you knew where you were because the robins all had bronchitis, and hadn't the energy to fly to trees. The Nine Mile point colliery was still open, and you never saw the sky unless you climbed up the mountain a bit. How green is my valley ? ermm VERY ! But I'd not swap it for City life, where I perceive myself in exile really...

Excersize is for mugs.

2009-05-24T02:55:00.000-07:00

To those contemplating getting fit for the summer, so you don'y resemble an over-stuffed lobster on the beach, consider this, if God had meant us to be thin, healthy, and active, would he have allowed TV ? Chips, couches to lie on ? Celebrity fat club ? Vanessa Feltz ? of course not.

OK so we don't run like the clappers for 20 minutes every day, why run when you can walk ? why walk when you can lie down ? why shop when you can go online and get some other clown to carry it all ? is it our fault there are no dinosaurs chasing us any more? Aerobic exercises stimulate and speed up the heart, but create heart attacks as well.

If you haven't excersized since Adam was conceived, and Eve started craving for Granny Smiths, then why start now ? get a grip... there's cars, buses (now and then), trains, and all sorts of transport to take the jog out of jogging. Don't cycle, unless you are mad enough to consider you can take the car on, have a death wish, or want to use up your BUPA credits.

Taking excersize in jogging bottoms that resemble a travelling circus tent with all the animals (And a deranged ring-master), still inside, can scar small children emotionally for life. Lets be honest, jogging is not really exercise, but rather a form of self-abuse, if you are into that, join a priesthood on some god-forsaken Island somewhere where they wear barbed wire vests, and shoes with the nails inside for fun... Besides, do you really want legs like Spindle Spice ?

It is very unsafe to lift weights unless you've a driver ready to take you to the hospital when you rip your deltoids, or any other doids. Sweating like a pig and gasping for breath is not sexy, unless your partner has no sense of smell, and works in an abbatoir. No matter what anyone tells you, isometric exercises cannot be done quietly at your desk at work, people will suspect you have manic tendencies as you twitter around in your chair, (or you are having a fit).

Skipping is a very good way to lose inches (and teeth). It's sublimely easy to trip and fall on our chin while doing double dutch. Next to burying bones, the thing a dog enjoys mosts is tripping joggers, leave the mutt in the house walk to the chippy.. better still, send the mutt to get them. Push-ups often lead to throw-ups, and any activity that can't be done while smoking should be strictly avoided.

Sports are extremely dangerous activities for injury-prone amateurs and should be left to paid professionals, and ridiculously young and fit and agile foetus's who haven't yet discovered the joys of watching television, and consuming copious amounts of waffles, and tarra-sam-i-lata..

If you MUST buy some video of some god-awful celeb going for the burn, try the one with Lassie goes home on it, and least you get a silly story and a talking dog to laugh or cry at, not much of a sheepdog was he, none of the films seemed to have him doing any work. Under penalty of death do NOT buy the ones with daytime TV morons on them, and lots of skimpy-clad teens who couldn't lose another centimetre and be seen sideways, it is a criminal offence to mock the afflicted, and mostly it's for those sad cases who can't afford proper porn, and buy Naturist monthly for kicks..

For real relaxation from the stresses of modern life (And watching vainly eastenders to see if anyone will smile, or even try acting), try the laymans guide to train watching first to get into the right frame of mind... this will often succeded where anti-depressants fail, I can reccomend it. I started on Desiel no:8635421 built 1957 and 060 gauge in Swindon, and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Bus Stop

2009-05-24T02:37:00.000-07:00

I used public transport today, doing my bit for the environment.... It was a day like no other, Call me Ishmael, etc... I stood at the bus shelter, I use this term very loosely of course, there being no seating, no glass, and well, no shelter, you need to be imaginative, you need no bus really to get the full gist of it. There was a motley crew of my city peers representation there, 2 students, with ipods sticking out of their ears, who shared the two ear pieces between them, 3 old ladies, 2 children whining they wanted sweets or else, one woman with wheelchair waiting in hope, and moi.

Being sociable as wot I is, I enquired as to an estimate of the omnibus arrival, as is the time honoured fashion, because we never know what is coming, where it is going to, or have the right money when it turns up... if we did, a great British pastime would be lost forever...we have watches, we read timetables, but the camaraderie' is the thing... My enquiry was greeted with great mirth and hilarity. "Bit of a novice isn't he ?", one lady said, "Bloody optimist!", another replied. I turned to the students, gave up after 5 minutes, they had obviously left for planet pod hours ago, and I don't speak apple.

Time passes, Hey up... movement, someone had spotted a bus, we all shuffle into an orderly que, expressions of great and nervous relief all around, conversation had flagged to an all-time low now we'd exhausted the weather, the state of the road, the bus delays, and Ms Williams at number 15, who is apparently on her 5th child and who never quite mastered the art of saying no, she'll be 18 next week and they're throwing a party in the pub or something ....

Then we all watched the said bus go straight past without stopping,with the driver smirking as he went past "Ha Ha fooled ya..." . It had a destination on it, 'Not In Service ?', I've lived here 16 years, never been there, yet so many seem to have that destination on them, perhaps it's a city area hidden from our eyes lurking somewhere, shrouded in mist and fog ? our very own shangri-la ? Brigadoon II perhaps ? Is it a ghost bus ? forever doomed to traverse the city streets, as some eternal penance, for an unpaid or uncollected fare ? we'll never know. They never should have got rid of clippies.

Yellow Alert, The children are bored, everyone is looking at everyone else, are they yours ? No, I thought they were with you ? etc...who started to kick to blazes what was left of the shelter, why not ? nothing like hanging around an unfinished and part-vandalized shelter, that's the trouble these days, even the vandals can't do a proper job of it, years ago we would have left nothing but the foundations, and brought a pick and jack-hammer as well. My mate Gethin, used to carry a collapsible shovel, and a hammer, (and some swarfega, "Keeps the hands soft," he says), you can't do a proper job without proper tools, He's a magistrate now...

Hey ho... wot's this ? a young mum with a pram about the size of a small car.. wonder if they have to have MOT's ? Insurance ? They're bloody big enough..This means a lot of us aren't going to get on the next bus to arrive... they usually take up at least 6 seats at one go, us oldies won't try getting on... what's the point, all resistance is futile...

Last week, 3 young mums got on and monopolized 11 seats and blocked the aisles... suggesting this breaks safety rules was met with “you miserable old bugger,” etc.. excrement on the wheels seems to be the norm, but what do I know about modern perambulator fashion ? ...a disabled lady got kicked off a bus to make way for one somewhere... priorities have all gone a bit Pete Tong..

God I'm bored.. ring for a taxi perhaps ? Is it usual to wait an hour for a Newport bus...? "You can wait days sometimes," one lady said, "time enough to grow a beard," another stated, “I noticed” I said, "have you tried yoga ? or feng shui ?", ventured another, "I find it a great stress reliever bach, it's important you sleep facing the North Pole, and there are no corners, lines, or sharp edges, (and clear running water of course)." "Why ?", I asked, "Do they think we'll commit hari-kari on them while we're waiting, or drown ourselves in the water feature ? looks dangerous to me, I find Valium and half a bottle of Old Gertie hits the spot personally.."

Damn, I'm hungry now, there's a shop over the road, think I'll nip over for some mints or something, why are there ALWAYS shops near to a bus stop ? now we know... they're in a franchise with the bus companies. I got to the shop, packet of mints sirrah, 68 P ?!!! blimmin 'eck, you seen me coming then ? ever thought of selling them loose? in ounces ? we used to do that years ago, blank stare.. what is an ounce ? oh well.. lovely, thanks awfully..

Another Asian shop, I'd need a degree in Hindi to do a week's shopping there...they took over after it was found us Brits hadn't the temperament to be shop keepers, basically we hate customers, we prefer to que in them to moan instead... where there is a que there is a British Institution behind it I say, this was a bit of a drawback in the national psyche, and why we lost the Empire I'm sure.

BATHPLUG and HIPPOPOTAMUS ! !!!!!! the bus has come, and gone,while I went for the mints.... the shelter is completely deserted, maybe aliens have taken them ? that, or there is a secret CCTV somewhere the bus company uses that remembers I am a stirrer on their routes, and waited their chance... I don't want to appear paranoid, but why me.... ?

News...News...News....

2009-05-24T02:26:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of news from the usual medias and been reading some news online instead, which has proven a lot more interesting than the abysmal stuff we have got so far, eg. the headmistress of the Dvergsnes primary school in Kristiansand, Norway, proposed that boys be taught to urinate while seated, in order to reduce splashing and mis-targeting, which burden the cleaning staff, but many parents and politicians reacted bitterly. “It’s a human right (for a boy) not to have to sit down like a girl,” adding that the school was “fiddling with God’s work.” So next time the missus complains show her that....

One jilted Romanian man found a new bride by asking which of his neighbours could fit into the wedding dress, which is sound sense, saves buying another one.... Europe as usual is full of very weird people doing strange and European things (Eurovision etc need we say more...), I liked this one, A village in Romania has erected a 6m (20ft now they have capitulated to imperial measures,) monument to the onion. Residents of Periceni came up with the idea to highlight the importance of the vegetable in their lives, and to bemoan the fact their wives don't want to sit downwind.....

Our German friends (The war is over ! for those that missed that headline), and a town council in Germany have decided the best way of improving road safety is to remove all traffic lights and stop signs downtown. All traffic controls will disappear from the centre of the western town of Bohmte to try to reduce accidents and make life easier for pedestrians. Russia is not to be outdone, and it seems Vladmir has erm... been firing blanks, or OD'ing on the Smirnoff of late, so don't be surprised if the streets are empty and curtains drawn in Ulyanovsk while residents take up an offer by the regional governor to help stem Russia's demographic crisis.

Ulyanovsk Governor, (Sergei Morozov) has decreed a Day of Conception and is giving couples time off from work to procreate. Couples who give birth nine months later on Russia's national day - June 12 - receive money, cars, refrigerators and other prizes. It was tried in September 2005, but there was an mass outbreak of migraine, and just 311 women signed up to take part in the first competition, and qualify for a half-day off from work. The following June, 46 more babies were born in Ulyanovsk's 25 hospitals compared with the previous June, Sergie has upped the prizes, to 5 Yaks, and is not crossing everything, in the hope it succeeds to boost a flagging Russian population and hoping the ladies do not cross anything either...

Careful how you are near blind people. A blind judo expert astounded a mugger by pinning him to the ground after he tried to steal his cigarettes. The assailant, a 17-year-old man of Asian origin, spotted the blind 33-year-old, at a train station in the southwestern town of Giessen and thought he would be easy prey, what the attacker did not know, was that his victim was a world-class blind judo wrestler. The 17-year-old threatened the blind man, then punched him in the face, at which point the martial artist flipped him and held him down until police arrived. Ah-sole...!

Start the new you, HERE..

2009-05-24T02:08:00.000-07:00

I came across a site online, which brought a tear to these old eyes (Sniff), it was a poignant message from a depressed 23yr old woman, it said "I am completely wiped out, I am a failure, and I want to start my life all over again" (What a loser)...

Knowing us hard at it bloggers are also burning the eco-friendly midnight oils, cutting, and hacking our way through the flooded, and shark-infested, and hoodied urban jungles of nether-Gwent to deliver laughs, thrills, and a few unexpected spills galore on this site for nowt, except to bask in the glory of educated blogging aficionado's, or hoping the main media picks up on how idiotic you really are, so you get an extra 15 seconds of world fame, by selling them your story how Simon Colwell was really your secret love child, after 15 lagers with his mum.

Obviously we, like this young woman, all need to take stock occasionally, perhaps down a few Carling Black labels, and restart again from ground up, before we burn out, and fail to find an energizer bunny to get us going again...

What we all need so I am reliably informed, are 21stc life skills, tailored self-development, professional, and in-depth awareness courses, (and a decent stout), so here's my suggestions, gleaned from seconds of real experience, and it won't cost you anything. I won't say no to free beer but .... so get started today... Your new life starts here ! ........... or maybe here, what are you waiting for ?

(1) Always refuse to accept conventional answers or comforting assumptions. Just because it quacks doesn't mean it is a duck, it might well be an elephant in pain, or even a chicken with an identity crisis.

(2) If something seems too good to be true, then don't buy guarantees with the latest electrical equipment, or listen to weather forecasts.

(3) Always suspect the superficial, and of course, people selling clothes pegs, and lucky white heather in designer clothing, with a Brummie accent.....

(4) Great ideas can’t be reduced to soundbites and slogans, where is 'Go to work on an egg", and, "It'll work if you hit it with a hammer", and "Labour is working for you..", now ?

(5) Take risks all the time. No one ever made any breakthrough without taking some big risks. What’s the worst that can happen ? Apart from forgetting to attach the bungee, when you leap over the Grand Canyon... or, making it 5 feet too long.

(6) Forget about looking for answers. Answers offer no challenges, try questions. Questions like, "Why is the Sky blue ?", or "Where can I get a good time for 50p, and a meal thrown in ?" Specialize in asking stupid questions, like, "Is there REALLY a scriptwriter and a plot to eastenders, or is it just some social worker taking the p*** ?"

(7) Keep an open mind. Not too open, you'll catch a head cold, or they'll think you need treatment or something, wear a woolly hat.

(8) Be who you are, whoever and whatever that is, (but check it's legal first). You won’t stand out by fitting in, or by putting your right leg in first, instead of shaking it all about, in a reverse clockwise direction....

(9) Make mistakes joyfully. The person who’s afraid to make a mistake is afraid to make anything. Of course he 'could' be sensible, but you never know... he could just be showing off, and hasn't a clue either, or if he/she's your employer, they will blame you anyway.

(10) Dare to let go, (perhaps not advisable if hanging from a cliff edge). Dare to grow and develop, it’s essential to let go of wherever you are now, just don't go screaming down the streets, yelling "Gordon Brown fathered my baby.", nobody would notice anyway..... (and for most of them, it's as reasonable an assumption as any other, so...).

Most of all, just have a laugh, and let the other idiots worry about it... remember you are a long time dead, (even longer than you are living if truth be told). Perhaps the burnt out and rather frazzled young woman aforementioned, should wear the attitude and t-shirt I saw recently, which opined, "I get prettier every day, and I just can't wait for tomorrow..." That's my outlook, even if the beauty thing is rather an economical untruth to gild this jaded lily..

Satisfaction is knowing women will enjoy this blog too, It's been clinically examined and proven by Russian analysts, and quite plutonium free, (avoid the purple vodka), Vladmar Putazokinit, a leading Russian urine illustrator, of Albanian extraction stated, "Women need more time to appreciate a joke because they analyze whether it is actually funny and decent.

But they get more satisfaction from good joke. Men tend to react to short jokes, or squeaky and prolonged farts. You are already giggling and still laughing, which proves the point, while women are satisfied with funny stories, and colour photos of firemen stripped to the waist, playing with their fire hose. Hence why I do only one blog an entire week, so they can get to the point, and then explain it to me, mainly because I lost the plot about line 3.......

Speed Dating

2009-05-24T01:48:00.001-07:00

I've occasionally been accused of not having a sensitive side to me, OK I kick puppies, trip up people on crutches, let tyres down on wheelchairs, and shout at babies, but doesn't everyone..... ? so I'd like to offer supportive advice to male chauvinists and others who are too busy to spend time to get laid, because it interferes with serious stuff like Rugby and drinking....

Or even harassed, overworked and downtrodden single/divorced parents, so I advise speed dating, It's all the go for those who are too busy, lying in the gutter, or spending a night's free B&B at the local nick, so haven't time to chat up ze opposite sex (Or even the same one if you're Lebanese). It's pretty pointless going to clubs and pubs to meet potential partners, they're only there to get ratted like you, if they had a life would they be there ? One loser in the relationship is enough....

Maybe you are one of those superwomen who have 9 kids, 4 with ASBO's, 3 useless boyfriends, and 2 divorced spouses, whilst juggling a 6am till 9pm job at the local launderette or something, for the minimum wage and free Daz.... ? If you still have enough time and energy to engage in conversation, or feel incomplete without another partner (Or just want someone to mind the kids free, whatever), then you will need some welcome tips about how to go about utilizing this modern and hyper-efficient way, of meeting that ideal partner, who knows lads, perhaps they might have their own washing machine, and follow Man United.......

This speed dating is not for the feint-hearted, so after you've splashed on a gallon or three of the Brut and Old Spice, simmered in a bath of strawberry radox for 3 hours, and optimistically bought 3 (Chocolate/chilli flavoured), remember, you only have exactly 5 minutes to sell yourself and find out what the other person thinks (Apart from the fact you look a desperate loser, and the mark of the wedding ring is still visible).

The first person turns up, OK she looks like she needs more beauty sleep than Methuselah ever did, (And he had a better beard), but hey, perhaps she can wash dishes and iron ? who knows, perhaps she does DIY ? don't look a gift horse in mouth, so, use your finely honed flirting techniques - if you’re interested let her know, use eye contact (One or both it's optional), the occasional friendly touch and remembering her name, are useful tools too, unless you really want them, probably best to stay clear of drooling down her blouse, and asking how much silicone in those do you get for a quid......

Have a number of stock questions ready. Five minutes may not seem a lot (about 6 times longer than making love, is the usual guide... so the ladies inform me), but there is nothing worse than drying up, do not start with, "You're starter for 5, do I have to chat you up first, or am I wasting my time and there are better after you ?", it tends to be off-putting to the ladies who may feel you lack some sincerity. Try a sensible list that includes e.g, Can you wash/iron/cook/clean ? are prepared to love Rugby/footy ? willing to hand over the TV remote to you unconditionally ? these are basics you will have to get sorted before progressing any further... most relationships have foundered over these vital issues, so get 'em sorted first.

Do dress well, speed dating tends to attract the fashionable and well groomed, or is that the dog show ? I've my notes mixed up... if you turn up with the leash on, tell them it's a new trend, punk is back, (best not to mention you are a founder member of the local S&M society....). Leave the track suit, string vest, and pink trainers at home. observe basic guidelines, if they've fallen for your old line (there may be one, it'll be the one with a white stick and a hearing aid), ensure you meet in a public place, tell a friend where you are going, and arrange the half-hourly phone call, in case she doesn't put out, or has forgotten her purse, then you can arrange for a house fire to attend to, a granny who has snuffed it, or if all else fails, complain "It's the wife again.."

Be careful what you eat, particularly if food is served during the speed dating, if they wanted a walking ad for Lard Ass R Us, they wouldn't be there, they'd still be with previous partners.... Think, is your date likely to enjoy the sight of you gorging on spicy noodles, and spotted dick? Relax, (but don't fall asleep), research has proven that over anxiety in potential partners is one of the biggest turn offs for women, don't make yourself look more desperate than you already are.

Telling lies, might seem like a good idea at the time, but how long could you keep up pretending to be a brain surgeon/dolphin trainer/ballerina or the Queen's younger brother ? Don't talk overtly on controversial topics, like e.g. seal clubbing, putting cats in microwaves, should it be an inalienable right ? Of course you don’t want to be bland, but think about it, would you really like to listen to a rant on Israel’s conduct in Palestine, or why Carling Black Label has gone up... (What ? AGAIN ! bluddy Labour party).

Don't turn up at a date blind drunk. Just imagine it- the music pumping, the lights down low, Enrico Caruso on the Karaoke, and you leering at a string of attractive, unattached ladies with skirts for neck warmers, or those weird metrospectacles… then you are flat out on the floor telling the table leg, “I love you, I’ve always loved you… gisssakizzzz....” it can be a turn off, unless you are past caring that is.... Next week, daytime TV.... an acceptable replacement for euthanasia ?

A New Publication on the cards...

2009-05-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

All the world's a net,
And all the participants merely bloggers,
They have their sites and their blogs,
whilst youtube films the egotists,
and google vies for world domination...

Ta for that Bill, don't give up the day job at Stratford Sewage Works will you.... How about "Much ado about nowt.." good title for a play ? oh well, please yourself. So wassup folks ? the last few weeks have seen fellow bloggers take to the hills, to contemplate finishing that boot wot never got wrote,and hoping pound shop doesn't make them any offers...thus leaving MM to generate some interest in the blogs for the day,and indeed contemplate, his own novel about life, love and orange peeling as a spectator sport.

OK so some of you have penned a few tome's (Very readable too), but don't forget us little people who helped you on the way up (Or is it down ? I'm never sure). Personally I don't tell people I blog for the local paper too, they only poke fun. I think it is time I released MY latest blockbusting saga... (well if they can drag the Spice Girls out of again, why not me ?) It's called "Ficklefellow Folly". I scrawled it on the back of the Radio Times in a sudden and mad impulse to follow the muse, in between Eastenders and Holby... and anyway if Shakespeare can get away with that guff, why can't I ? What the Dickens did he know anyway ? (But enough of appalling cliche's)....

Basically and without entirely giving the complete plot away, the butler did it, I won't say how, there was a kipper, two ferrets, and copy of paradise lost involved.... Which I hope won't spoil it for you. Is the kipper a red herring ? read it and find out ! I had to make do with a Gherkin, but it still works I think. I didn't want the ladies to lose out, knowing how they enjoy the love interest and a bit of norty bodice ripping they can be shocked with, so I have created my own 'Mr Darcy' in it, except he's called Arnold 'Scrapper' Clinkerbottom, in my version, and peels potatoes for the affluent, and his love interest is the demure but quite feckless, Fanny "Goodness me" Clacket, the adopted daughter of an Albanian pig wrestler, and a consonant-challenged, Czechoslovakian orange-boner.

Read a clip of it and see.

"Eee ba gum Scrapper.." said "Fanny, "Have 'ee always groiled spuds for a living ? I'm sure pater would choke on his truffled trifle, if it were true..., you know, he has a tendency to be slightly Irish... and would cut us both off without a pound of lard to fry with if he found out...", "Now now lassie...", laughed Scrapper... spitting peelings on her bonnet, scattering her posy vicariously to the far side of the gillet, " we've known each other 15 years, you can drop the 's', we can be informal now surely with 11 children ? Potatoes is only a sideline of mine ye ken, I'm going to branch out into turnips and swedes and make a killing flogging mash, with a side salad, or maybe fajitas, we'll be rich Fanny, bluddy rich !! then we'll show 'em Fanny ! then we'll show them ahahhaahahahha (And haha) !!!".

Hot stuff I think you'll agree...! (Phew !), it'll just float past the censors I think, people are more enlightened these days about King Edwards.... in those days, you'd have been flogged just for mentioning Maris piper. I've already had 15 advance orders from MacDonalds... which will balance all their tables in the High Street outlet.... I could even go nationwide if they work OK. Advance copies can be ordered via my retail outlet, I'll even sign a copy for free.

The book, all 4 pages in relatively joined-up writing, and even the ink blotches don't spoil the story, just that on page 3 para 4 it is SPIT, (oops !), I'd just dipped me quill a bit too much at that point, and the cat was trying to hump the TV stand and had to be restrained, the book cost just £45 (Hard Copy), or 15 shilling and tuppence if I jump up and down on it... there's a bonus of a 50 pence rebate if you don't reveal the ending too... which is a real nail-biter... there might even be a sequel..... although most are hoping not...

Flower Arranging For Beginners

2009-05-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

Have you been put off buying fresh flowers in the past, because you think that you need lots of money, green fingers, or skill to arrange flowers successfully? Phffft ! (Sorry about that, a bit of unrehearsed flatulence there), it's so easy anyone can do it (Can you open the window a bit, phew ! ... ta), and if you have trouble affording the basic plants and flowers, well, why not liberate them from someone's front garden instead ? they're only left in the dirt being neglected, being rained on, or the cat waters them.

MM has some great ideas for you, (Pull up the flowers, plant the cat), for displaying your flowers in stylish yet simple ways, that will amaze your friends, who hitherto thought the nearest you got to flowers was attending funerals, or eating them for a bet.

Even if you haven't got a single vase in the house, you can enjoy cut flowers. Wine or beer bottles e.g. come in a variety of interesting shapes and colours, and reduce arranging to its basics, and just think of the fun emptying them first. Forget the flowers even, just enjoy the emptying.

I choose flowers with large heads like gerbera, lilies, orchids, triffids, or sunflowers - add one stem per bottle and line them up on your mantelpiece for instant glamour, add a few beer mats, a few empty fag packets for effect, viola ! Urbanellia instantly, who says flower-arranging isn't fun ? and you can make a political statement too... don't smoke, do flower arranging.

Jugs, teapots, empty tesco baked bean cans, even jam jars can all be used for displaying flowers, wash the golly and Tesco labels off first it's a bit un-PC now, (especially Tesco labels, which carry a monopoly warning). With smaller containers such as teapots and jam jars, the flowers look better with the stems cut short, (or they just fall out all over the floor basically).

Choose flowers with full heads like dahlias, carnations, chrysanthemums, triffids (so what ? I like triffids !), and daffodils, fill out with interesting foliage for that rustic feel. Maybe you have got a suitable vase, but it's ugly ? (we've all been there, and it isn't just vases is it ?), or the colour doesn't go with your flowers, or you are tired of looking at it (so why didn't you dump it ?). Try to co-ordinate the flowers with the colours on your walls, pizza (With schrizo and Anchovies), is pretty near to mine e.g. so anything goes with that....

Alternatively cover the outside of the vase in a double-sided adhesive tape, stick lager labels vertically around. Tuck the ends of some leaves underneath and stick them down, and add some dry roasted peanuts (Not salted), for that Urban effect, that is so 'In' these days. Some houseplant leaves look wonderful for this as they are glossy, or have exotic markings and colouration, if yours has lost its gloss ( we've all been there too), try some KY jelly, 3 in 1 oil, or Vaseline, but ask permission (cut out the smutty, and ageist jokes), first.

If they have no leaves (If they're like mine and haven't been watered since 1999 when I was cut rather sort), then wind some string - (plain or coloured) - in coils around the bottles and jars for an ethnic look, (but check it's not on the endangered string list first), or even some satin parcel ribbon for a shiny finish, if you want to explore your feminine side. I stick CD covers on mine of Mantovani, and added some painted barbed wire with glitter, it's a great talking point, and stops people nicking your display too.

The Stepford Children...

2009-05-23T11:35:00.000-07:00

"Guess where we are going today kids !", some over excitable nuclear mum declares on the TV.."Where ?", squeals an equally excitable Chucky look-alike (But less appealing brat), asks.. "We're going to the FURNITURE store to look at some sofas ! woweee....", far from blank stares, and hurried telephone calls to the nearest trick cyclist, this metricated child, erupts in total delirium." "Oh my God Mumeeee ! lets go now, I can't wait to try out a recliner model A652 in pink draylon...".

I expect I am probably the sole parent to suggest this is a highly unlikely scenario, but it gave me nightmares my own child may one day emulate these disturbing children, who far from looking forward to exciting quality time with Mum & Dad choosing the latest furniture, mine loves engraving his initials on mine with a screwdriver, or decorating it with felt tip pens, determined to outdo the resident cat, that sharpens his fangs and claws all down the side of it... and would rather watch DVD's in total darkness, mid-day of the grateful dead, or slaughter of the cyber pussies instead.

Not to be outdone, I am assailed with yet another unlikely televising advert, whereby 3 strange children get up at 6am, wash,dress, and feed themselves (Even an enthusiastic 3 yr old), who cannot wait to start the new term at school, all because mum and Dad have forked out a third mortgage to buy them new school uniforms from Asda or somewhere...... They're so keen on having got a new blue shirt, they get to school 3 hours early to show it off... even on a Sunday.

I find TV quite disturbing these days, when I deign to watch it in passing. Do you think they manufacture these plastic children on a conveyor belt or what ? I'm more for realism, in that the usual response to "Hi kids let's go to a furniture dept for a day out", would more likely be met with abject derision. As for looking to themselves to start the first day of school bouncing along like demented Kangaroos over hill and dale, extolling the virtues of school uniforms, mine always insists on tearing strips out of it straight away, or risk losing his street cred, which he did last year, even rubbed mud on it on the way in to school, "If it looks new Dad, they'll bully me...

I'll be an outcast, NOBODY wears new first day... or the 1st term...", or a straight forward, "I'm not wearing THAT !..." and far from him arising with the larks tr-la-la, to start the new term at school (WOT !), we have to call him 14 times to get up, and hire a team of wild horses to drag him down the stairs, kicking and screaming....

"I'm tired ! I don't feel well, I've got 30 days off for revision...", etc, anything except make an effort to go to school, not even Nike specials would induce any enthusiasm. His girl friend (or whatever they call them these days), turns up early wearing a school skirt that I'm pretty sure they don't sell in our local shops... unless that shop has "Private" painted over the doorway....she always asks to use the toilet, then returns with a face transplant, and enough make-up to decorate the entire cast of Cats, and also wearing the latest 'Goth' look, which appears to be a 21stc interpretation of Al Jolsen or something..... the shirt hanging out, bra on the outside, tie around the waist, and the skirt now acting as a neck warmer, and wearing black tights, which appear to have been a kitten's plaything prior to her wearing it...they then both go out with their lunch boxes of healthy fare, and empty them in the nearest dustbin, having demanded a couple of quid for crisps, a cider, and 20 cigarettes instead.

You get the reverse scenario when they return home, the change to respectability, so her Mum won't know, her daughter has been solicited 3 times, and warned by the police for it...... of course they all are determined to be sent home the first day, there's a book being run on it.

Will Baz's holiday tattoo 'teechers are fik', get first place ? or Shazza's belly piercing, with the cow bell and a novelty penis as a clapper attached ? or, Nog's triangular hair cut in 5 shades of green, with a complete representation of the London underground map engraved on his head get it ? He seems to be favourite this year... but don't ask where Buckingham Palace is on it, he only washes once a year, you would never find it...

Happy Days..

2009-05-23T11:22:00.000-07:00

Now that son of is out of school, he has already slipped straight into boredom mode, my time online for the next 2 weeks may be somewhat limited, he needs amusing, spending money on, and basically wants someone to teach him what play is all about from someone who actually did that in a past life as a child, without the social service gestapo taking their parents away for child neglect..... He comes in, AMUSE ME! he demands, I'm so BORED...So far my showing him how to play marbles, build a fern camp on the mountain side, erect a rope swing across the river, and talk about conker competitions, has left him somewhat puzzled as to where his Dad has gone and if he been replaced by someone from Planet Gaga ?

"Conkers ? we're not allowed to take them off trees in school, it's not eco friendly, and teacher says it is dangerous to play with them, you can get hurt...we're not allowed to shoot glass balls about the floor either because of insurance, anyway, build a camp? what 's the point ? there's no TV in it, and where can I plug in my Xbox ? What happens if it rains ? swinging over rivers on a rope, no way, it aint cool... !"

Knowing as I do, reading and comprehension is also a huge problem with today's yoof, I took it upon myself to read him one of the classics, (ejudicate him like), e.g. 20,000 leagues under the sea, which kept me amused for months, in years gone by, was Captain Nemo a forerunner of the pacifist movement ? an early eco-warrior ? Hitler of the high seas ? I was met with a blank stare.... "Seen it" he said, I inquired, "pardon ?", "Seen 20,000 leagues under the sea, unbelievabale...it's not very realistic is it ? and who does leagues now ?", I said, "But, we are talking PRE-TV, and blockbusters like Texas chain saw massacre lad.. you use your imagination to conjure up the ambience.."

"I didn't see no ambulances in it, I prefer the film, you get moving pictures, sweets, extra pocket money, and surround sound...", I said "Why not try Radio ?", "I was totally fixated on Dick Barton special agent for years, and Paul Temple, I still recall the theme..da, da-da, da da-dada, dada dah.....", more blank stares.... "We'd gather around it with Alan Freeman and his pop-pickers, he did the top 20, always unmissable...".

"Top what ? Didn't they have downloads then Dad ?", "Erm no, well... I had a twin track tape recorder, (but don't tell anyone..).", "Were there vids with them ?", "Erm no, they weren't invented then... look, 'Journey into space' on the radio was the pre-runner of Dr Who, and really WAS scary...", "but we aren't allowed X-rated stuff Dad, I could get mentally scarred for life..", "Didn't the chainsaw massacre frighten you?", "NAH ! nothing to it.".

"Mrs Knowalot, the social service lady told us in school, YOU have to make more effort to get us to do things, or I'll be on the streets pinching mobile phones, asbo collecting, and smoking lettuce....but I don't think they meant WE actually DO things, there's insurance issues and all sorts, to be seen with your Dad isn't cool .... you are OK, but nearly dead let's face it.... and none of my mates have one... they only have Uncles, and 5 grandparents each. I feel left out.. so far you've tried teaching me two games which are against the law, and physically dangerous, while trespassing on a hillside chopping down protected plant species, then you want to put me on a rope over a river.... are all your schoolmates in Jail or dead now ? I don't want to have to call childline... the plant protection league, or the environmental agency, why can't I go on trips with my mates ?", "Well Lad, it costs MONEY, and I'm not a millionaire either, anyway I couldn't fill in the application form that had 113 questions the organizers wanted answering before you could go, absolving them from everything, lot easier If I sold you to white slavers really...only 5 questions on that form".

"But it ONLY costs £260 dad ! it's not much money, and I'd only want about £150 to spend that's all... that's what social services gave everyone else...cos their Mum is poor, and their Dad is 'UK..", "UK ?", Unknown... ", "OK so now it is already over £400 for 4 days ?", "It's ONLY 3 days Dad ! keep up ! you won't get much more for the money, where you been living ?", "In total destitution mostly,", I replied, "keeping you, supposing I find this 'cheap' fare for you to go, and get a lawyer to fill in the application form, you get what out of it ?", "We can do dry skiing, abseiling, ice-skating and...but you have to buy me the right gear first, because we all have to play safely..", I felt another cheque coming on..."Gear ?..", "The school says I can hire it if you can't afford it.... only £60, so long as I don't damage any of it...","Hold the mayo", I said "It's already looking like the national debt, I can't afford all that..how about you go stay with Grandma for 2 weeks, you get free sweets, help her with the shopping, and bed by 9.30 ?.......or better still, I go to grandma for 2 weeks and leave you to it ? I need a rest already.... quality time is too much work.... and when do I get any ?". 1 week and counting......

The Chav Guide to getting a job...

2009-05-23T10:39:00.000-07:00

In all fairness to our younger, eager, and potential employees, I really should be offering them the benefits of my other worldly advice to help then improve their job prospects, tis only fair. Atypically they will get questions like these..but hopefully, avoid some of the answers...

Q1: Why did you apply for this job?
A. It keeps the DWP off my back for another week, I've nothing else to do this morning, have you got a cigarette I can have until I get my giro ?

Q2: What do you know about our company?
A. Not a lot, you've got a cool BMW, but bad dress sense 'though.

Q3: Why should we give you this job and not someone else?
A. I know how to hot-wire BMW's.

Q4: What are your outstanding qualities?
A. I can drink 18 lagers while upside down, and I once stayed awake for 26 hours for a bet.

Q5: What are your weaknesses?
A. I get very tired if asked to work more than 15 minutes a day, and quit nagging already, me 'ead is banging.

Q6: What would you like to be doing five years from now?
A. Not working here ! Getting a life I suppose, maybe qualify for top rate DLA ?

Q7: Why do you want to leave your current job?
A. What current Job ?

Q8: What motivates you?
A. £500 a week, and a 42" plasma HDTV, I won't get out of bed for less than that.

Q9: What is your ambition?
A. To win a bundle on the 3.30 at Redcar, How do you spell Beauty is there an u, and an a ? or two o's in it ?

Q10: What is your biggest achievement?
A. 9 ASBO's in 28 months, and 35 convictions for shoplifting.

Q11: How do you handle rejection?
A. I usually use their head for a football.

Q12: How do you handle tension?
A. I Just thump people, or drink meself unconscious, and it soon goes.

Q13: How do you take direction?
A. Just point I'll go..

Q14: What have you done that shows initiative and willingness to work?
A. I did a paper round for 5 days once, then I thought, stuff that....

Other guides to improve your presentations and image:

(A) To succeed in any interview you must be on time. Aim to arrive 10 to 15 minutes early (and on the right day helps too).
(B) Give a firm handshake and smile during the introduction, not too much, they might think you are on something.
(C) Be pleasant, poised and maintain eye contact as much as possible, try not to fall asleep and wake up thinking you're in Egypt.
(D) Be aware of your body language. Falling asleep in the chair, and farting continually, is a negative, it's Ok for THEM they are the employers, but not you..
(E) Listen carefully to questions; don't be afraid to ask for clarification and take time to think about your answers, not with, you WHAT ! you're joking aint ya ?
(F) Prepare questions for the interviewer, but not how much dosh am I getting ? when are the holidays ? or, is it true E=Mc2 is a new designer drug...

In short grovel, offer them your sister, mother, and the phone number of Lottie's Kaper Chamber and you'll walk it I'm sure.

Going For The Burn the HCI way

2009-05-23T01:36:00.000-07:00

Not me, I'm happy eating Lard sandwiches laced with peanut butter, and chili-burgers with triple fries personally, but My long suffering partner, is getting rather envious of these stick insects on TV and those models with shirt sizes of minus 6 or something. Under pain of death I am not allowed to state my partner's current weight, only, that sumo wrestlers are now in for some stiff competition, and there has been a run on circus tents.

In order to preserve peace of mind and stop divorce proceedings, I have volunteered to do some weight loss exercises in simpatico with her, if I can fit it in between 6 hours sitting sessions on my computer, and 4 hour TV viewing, I can't remember what walking is about or travel, I think it start with running about and getting sweaty or something, I often wondered what the legs were for... I can just about do the 20 mins 'vigorous' (I had red lights flashing when I read that word), exercise, which is all I am recommended to participate in at my tender age.

As ever I surfed the net for the easiest option of losing a few pounds, starvation seemed a bit extreme, and came across an American website (Sorry I aint allowed to advertise !), which was like an 'facebook' thing, you volunteer to lose 20 stone or something, and ask 'friends' to join you in encouraging you keep off the lard a bit. The punch line being you dedicate so much cash to each pound or stone you lose by a certain time, and, if you fail, your 'friends' and fellow heavies, looking after your donation, then take the money and the charities get the dosh.

So basically, charities are now encouraging people to get as fat as they can and fail so they can form another Charity, for those that did ?!?!? It can only happen in America I suppose. Win-win all around for some, including the Health and State departments inundated with fatties with heart attacks, strokes, diabetes and a new Health Hazard HCI (Helping charity Itis).

I kicked off by doing next to nothing as is my want, my partner I encouraged to run up and down the stairs, make my tea, cook my food and iron everything, do gardening, run 40 miles a day (She wanted Kilometers cos its less, but I could never work it out). I was totally encouraging all this activity, as it all burns off calories and wotsits, which can only be good for her, and while she is doing all these things, I can carry on typing utter rubbish here as is my want.

She suggested I was exploiting her (Heaven Forbid !). After the first 3 days we approached the scales together (We had to buy a new one cos the other was pre-decimalisation), shock and consternation ensued, she had actually gained three-quarters of a pound, and I, had lost two lol...

Now she wants me to teach her how to sit down and play about on the computer, she says by her reckoning she will have achieved her stated weight loss by the time she masters Windows on the PC, and later, If I can teach how to use the interweb she should be fair competition for any super model, and then surf for a toy boy who is more sympathetic, oops !

Oink !

2009-05-13T01:05:00.001-07:00

Recent updates on Swine flu..

Swine Flu Symptoms are similar to seasonal flu, 5 major symptoms of swine flu infections are:

• An increasingly 'sweaty' or 'greasy' sensation in the palms of the hands.
• An excessive desire to be a politician... any kind.
• Wanting to buy a second or even a third home in London despite having 2 in Leeds.
• Frequent visits to a trough to over feed.
• An urge to claim expenses for light fittings, scatter cushions, under floor heating for tennis courts, cleaning out castle moats, dog and cat food, despite having no need of them.

While there is no effective vaccine at present, daily visits to an accredited accountant and tax evasion specialist can alleviate the worst symptoms.

Don't Forget: Claim it, buy it, sell it, pro-fit....

Blue Tile Blues....

2009-05-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

"Oi !!! I was here before you ! don't you know you have to que between the blue and white tiles.... bloody old git." A little of the gay (but not in a Lebanese way), reparte' I had hurled at me this week, it was quite heartening to know that conversation, manners, and politeness of modern youth hasn't completely gone down the swanee.. or in this case, and to be geographically exact, the Usk.

I went in some place called KFC, in downtown Maesglas, (like MacDonald's, but with feathers....). Averse as I am to touch gunk and junk food, I had left home early in the day without succor (OK, let us in on the joke.. it's in the bible how is it rude ?), and after visiting Comet to purchase a present for my son, I was starving, so entered this rather strange, plastic, formica'd, and other-worldly place which hitherto I thought was only for the under 20s and those people born without good taste genes....

I needed a drink, but all they had was black stuff with lumps of ice in, which I didn't care to try, so I opted to read the menu, and walked up to the counter to read it, without me spectackles on, I'd end up ordering the electrician or something.

I recall a rather embarrassing encounter in Sainsbury's in town where I had forgotten my glasses, and ended up ordering a children's meal, and didn't understand why they were glowering at me, albeit the servings did seem small at the time, and I wondered why they gave me a colouring book about Huffalumps, and sniggered.

KFC seemed rather limited in option it was chicken, or... chicken, I think it was American or something, but follows closely in the footsteps of our very own British, Chips wiv everythin'.

This young young lad then regailed me at some length, on the correct protocol of approaching KFC (or any other such fast food outlet), as to where you are supposed to stand and things, you'd think KFC would issue a rule book or something, for people over 12. There appears loads of 21stc unwritten 'rules' about entering Gunk & Junk establishments, I am not au fait with.

The young gentleman in question, with about enough scrap metal in his face to seriously engender rust disease was quite aggressive about this.

There are WAYS to que at these establishments, and I should get with it or face serious consequence. The British Empire is entirely based on how you que... "Where yo bin livin ?", "Sorry just arrived on Planet Earth, take me to your leader, one that has some basic command of grammar preferably.."

"Look at the bloody floor!", he shouted, "See the tiles ?", "Erm yes, but... really blue isn't my thing", "Oi ! you are supposed to que between that line of blue tiles there, and the other blue tiles there...", he kept shouting and pointing..", "Are you deaf, daft or what..!", "2 out of 3 OK ?", I offered... "You trying to be funny ?", he shouted again, stepping up a gear in animosity," "Oh..", I said, "You've read my blogs then... ?". "Think cos your old you can push your way to the front ?".

"What about those people standing on the other side of the blue tiles whom you have not said anything to ?", "I suggested," and there appears to be 4 counter assistants, or whatever they are called, with a que on each, there didn't appear to me to be anything organised about the ques at all to me, they are milling about not really sure where they are.

I'm sure there is a great market for personal satnav systems for people like that... e.g, that young woman there didn't use the blue tile option... and, has just walked in front of you, and in front of 12 others as well. I only wanted to see what the menu was... I couldn't read it from 50ft away...."

"Ladies first you miserable git.. she's got to get back to school !", he stated, "Why don't you get a bloody pair of decent glasses ... we pay enough bloody tax so you get them free..", he said, "ignorance is no excuse, EVERYONE knows you que between the blue tiles..", he then waved another young woman straight through with a wink, "Ello precious...", he said, "Where you been all my life.. ?", "Avoiding you mostly ", she smiled sweetly... "After you sir...." Made my day... I think...

When people start offering you seats on buses and things and look concerned when they see you standing somewhere on your own, old age has crept up on you apparently. I think the time to worry is when someone obviously a 100 years old and in a Wheelchair offers you a seat... HIS ! Let us hope the blue tiles keep him at bay.

Decisions, Decisions...

2009-05-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

My computer desk has seen better days, and I am deciding whether to take a plunge and buy a flat-Pack assembly one, which is stupid I know, because I'm unlikely to get past opening the instruction book, without a hammer and chain saw... I want one with a filing cabinet built-in so I can hide all the junk I've amassed over the last few years, and until I can afford a decent-sized skip to clear the lot out.

I have unfinished books, with more reference material than the British Library, 53 'free' discs I got from various magazines, and are totally useless and won't work on my computer anyway, 76 copies of 'Computing now' from 1999, with only the index well-thumbed because the rest was printed in a language I think was created on a different planet. I found 3 keyboards, 4 mice, with wobbly wheels on, one with wif-fy or something, but there no battery in it, and I don't know anything about Wi-Fi except it's not got wires or something, and 5 new species of insect life has spawned at the back of my computer cabinet as well.

There is also about 25 miles of connectors/cabling/dongles and bongles, which probably won't fit anything created since 1990, I can't throw them out or the entire planet will be polluted, and they may be collectors items as some were pre-facebook....

My specifications in order of importance:

1) Elegant - I liked desks that wrapped around you, and are mined so the muse doesn't get interrupted.

2) Easy to Make - Minimal tools and time, preferably with a button on the box I press and it assembles itself.

3) Cheap - I don't want to over-extend myself in these credit crunchable days, but what the hell, what other fun do I get....so £5 - £10 I'm easy, I realise you can't skimp on quality..

I am struck with a desire now to be less erudite with the text side of it, and want to do a mini Spielberg, so want to diverse into video, I think many readers who stumble on my blogs by sheer bad fortune or accident, would be very surprised to see me animated to any degree..

Normally I would think this pretentious, but having wandered away from my computer recently and looking at television to see how the uneducated live, I discovered It will perhaps entail me having to dumb down quite a bit, still.......

I fancy being a sort of secret reporter, exposing norty people doing even nortier things. I bought some video software to get started, it says "You too can make Film epics like War and Peace on your home computer... it's EASY..." (Anything with easy as a tile usually means impossible to me, but I'm game). The instruction book beat war and peace by 15 chapters, and needed a separate van for delivery....

It wasn't helped by being translated into Mandarin either. I thought, if it is that good, why didn't the Chinese make great films ? Seen one wall, you've seen them all haven't you...

When I set it up, it took 3 days, and then when I tried it out, a blurb came up, I hadn't 'flash', or even a dedicated video wotsit card Mk 6, but they gave me a link to a computer site, where for £3,568 (plus Vat), the software might possible work with an 'entry level' dedicated computer, it would probably exit my ban account...it wouldn't work on mine in a million years, so it's back to blogging..... sorry.

I'm finding it hard to top a recent blog about it raining yesterday, perhaps I'll wait till the sun comes out and blog that... As for a new computer cabinet, or even a new computer with bells on, well, perhaps next year.

DOH Ray Me !

2009-05-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

Cry not, and please, don't pity me,
my ears once worked, (when sound came free),
Birds they sang, and winds once howled,
(I'd feel the gusts amongst the clouds).
The trees they swayed, and gently groaned,
(and sometimes bent near to the ground).
I've heard dogs bark and cats miaow,
and Uncle John shout,"stop that row!",
I'd hurry home, hear siblings laugh,
or watch them fight, near my home's hearth,
I'd listen sage-like to my old dad,
as he'd curse TV, "PAH ! Another FAD !"

Mum would chide, and play piano,
Said she "I once knew Ivor of Novello".
We'd listen to music, its our choice,
(My mum could sing, she had the voice).
She'd won second prize, in a Rhondda choir,
In Ferndale's 'steddfod, with 'Blood and Fire'
She would have won without a doubt,
Had not young Geraint, shouted out,
"Mammy, Mam, I want to pee,
bloody hell-fire, and bugger me!"

I still recall, as my hearing faded,
as did hers too, (she never quite made it !).
her playing got louder, as her tones went deaf,
until the old pianny, it died the death.
The white keys, stained like a smokers teeth,
The black ones duff, like a miner's cuff.
Not outdone was ma (Oh no!),
so off to the music shop did go.

Her eyes espied an 'lectric organ
with dipsons, flutes, and called a Morgan.
It had some watts (40 or so),
guaranteed to make things 'go'
Dad he wilted in his chair,
"no more, no more, it isn't fair".

Mum had her way, (as Mothers do),
played louder each night, (and all day too !)
As hearing died, and the silence grew,
her eyes got red, and mine did too.
Now I'm deaf, and now she's gone,
But still the memory lingers on,
of piano's, morgan, and a noisy Mum !