30 December 2007
A fortnight ago, Spike & I went into the city centre, my first ever shopping trip to Liverpool, and quite possibly my last.
The first thing we did was to go to the bakery and get a pasty and a doughnut each. We were standing next to the Radio City box office in the St. John's shopping centre, just opposite the bakery, quite happily munching away and watching the world go by, when a small grumpy woman barged past me, carrying some sandwich wrappers. She dumped them in the bin and then glared at us and snapped "I suppose that lot was yours!". "Erm, no", I replied, stunned at how rude she was. I pointed out that I'd put my wrapper in the bin and that I was still eating my doughnut. "Well YOU'RE standing there", she snapped. I have never felt my anger rise so quickly. I had the urge to slap her, but managed to restrain myself. I repeated that the litter wasn't mine, but she just glared at me and unlocked the door to the booth and went inside, so I called her a silly cow and left.
Radio City - if this woman is an employee of yours, I commend her for her attitude towards litter, but her attitude & behaviour towards complete strangers is disgusting. I had never been to Liverpool before, and if that woman is an example of how your employees and fellow citizens treat visitors, I will never visit again. She ruined our day. You may think this is petty anger, but given that persuading Spike to leave the house is a challenge in itself, only for some stupid woman to upset us both by falsely accusing us of leaving litter, was just the topping on the cake. His recovery has been set back as a direct result of your actions, and I have never felt so insulted.
We ended up going straight home, having lost all enthusiasm for our day out. If that woman is an example of how you're promoting your 'City of Culture', you can stuff it. I have no desire to return to Liverpool.
28 November 2007
Interestingly enough, it says that the Islamic Society used to sell a teddy bear named after another Prophet, Adam the Prayer Bear.
27 November 2007
Yes, I know it's an insult to make an image of the prophet, but a teddy bear is a teddy bear. It's not an image of anything other than a bear.
Why has the teacher been arrested? It was the kids who chose the name. Surely, if it's so wrong, their parents are the ones who didn't educate them properly?
14 November 2007
I resent being treated like a criminal. I have never, to the best of my knowledge, broken the law in my entire life, so why should I have to submit to being degraded in this manner? If they do insist on searching all bags at stations I will simply stop using public transport altogether and add to the congestion on the roads. As for congestion charging, if that's brought in, I just won't go to those areas where it is introduced. I don't need to go into the city centres.
Every time I read in the news about the latest 'insecurity measures' I can feel the bile rising. This country makes me sick. Day after day, we are shit upon from a great height, and we are expected to sit here and take it. I work my guts out to help people who need all sorts of problems resolving and are not able to do it themselves, and yet I can do absolutely nothing to help to preserve the sanity and freedom of ordinary people like me who are inconvenienced, accused and harrassed by the state, all for the sake of paranoia. I no longer have any confidence in this Government that I, to my shame, voted for and have worked for. I would love to be able to meet those responsible for these ludicrous ideas and plead with them to see how they are wrecking this fomerly wonderful country of ours. I weep for the hopelessness and helplessness of it all.
I hate the way this country has gone, and I really mean it. I have absolutely no patriotism left. I am sick and tired of the constant so-called 'anti-terrorism' measures which are absolutely nothing to do with terrorism at all, and everything to do with eroding the liberty of British subjects. This once-proud nation is now reduced to a police state, where the state can do whatever it wants and the ordinary law-abiding citizen is treated like dirt on the shoes of the powers that be.
The threat of terrorism is no worse now than it was 30 years ago, and the only thing that these latest announcements will do, is increase the resentment of ordinary people who just want to get on with their lives without unnecessary and unwanted interference from a bunch of overpaid people who appear to produce this rubbish in a misguided attempt to justify their salaries.
Please, stop this madness now!
11 November 2007
I'm sick of the marketing and the hype for what is, to be honest, a bloody boring day when most people eat themselves sick and then fall asleep in front of the telly. The earlier the marketing starts, the more I hate Xmas. The capitalists wreck it.
I am preparing to batten down the hatches already, and the first day I hear any Xmas music in the shops, will be the day I stop shopping for the rest of the year.
Now, where can I get new feet?
07 November 2007
05 November 2007
Love you really!
04 November 2007
Dr. Williams obviously doesn't know some of the little scrotes that live in my area. Believe me, 10 year-olds DO know right from wrong, but they also know that they'll get away with criminal activity because it's too much hard work for the justice system to deal with them. I'm not blaming the Police here - they do a great job, it's the rest of the system which is an arse.
I know one copper who wasted months chasing round after one particular little bastard, knowing that every time he caught him, the magistrates would let the little darling go because he was too young, or from a broken home, or because they didn't have room for him in the cells. The aforementioned copper was highly pissed off because every time they let the scrote out, he was off committing more crimes within the hour. It made a mockery of the law, and the copper was very disillusioned.
In the case of young children committing crimes, the parents should be made to take more responsibility, and the justice system should mete out punishments which drive it home to the kids that what they have done is wrong. If they scrawl graffiti on walls, they should be made to clean it off, if they break or damage something they should be made to replace it, or work until they have paid off the debt in kind.
This country is already too soft on juvenile criminals and it's about time that the do-gooders woke up and smelt the coffee.
Is he really? What a bigot!
How would he like it if people started a campaign to re-brand Christmas?
Instead of trying to demonise the beliefs of others, perhaps he should just mind his own business, get on with celebrating his own religion and let others get on with celebrating theirs.
26 October 2007
Apparently it has now been decided that it is not indecent. So, what is this controversial picture? What caused the fuss? Well, here it is (censored). At least, I'm told this is it. I'm not sure I believe it.
My reaction? It's shite. I can't believe that anyone would pay money to purchase that picture, even if it was part of a set. If it was one which I had taken, I would have deleted it from the camera because it wasn't worth saving.
It's a couple of kids messing about in the kitchen. The lighting is poor, the setting is poor and I know kids who could have produced a better image on a disposable camera.
Is that really the picture in question? Surely this is someone taking the piss? Please tell me that the real photograph is actually a good one.
The only reason I can think of for anyone wanting that picture, is for the shock value. The photographer must have been laughing her tits off when she sold it. Money for old rope, in my opinion. If Elton John really does think it's a good photo, I have hundreds he can buy. I have a particularly good one of my feet, and another of my finger. The one I have from the end of the film, where there's only half a frame is not bad too. Very artistic I think. Sort of black and yellow and you can see the holes where the film locates on the spools. Must be worth a few bob, with the right marketing.
So, is it pornography? No, I don't think it is. There's nothing sexual about it, it's just a picture of a naked kid. Hell, my parents have naked photos of me as a young child. That doesn't make them perverts, and I have no problem with the existence of those pictures because I am not ashamed of my body, not then, not now.
There is, of course, the question of the child's right to privacy. Whilst it's perfectly normal for parents to take naked pictures of their kids, is it right that they should be allowed to publish them, when the child has no say in the matter, and isn't of an age or maturity to know the implications of publication? How will the child feel about this in 10 years time? How will her friends feel about it?
So why did the RSPCA officer release this one? It should have been humanely dispatched. Surely the RSPCA Inspector should know the law?
25 October 2007
It goes on to say "The descendants of the genetic upper class would be tall, slim, healthy, attractive, intelligent, and creative and a far cry from the "underclass" humans who would have evolved into dim-witted, ugly, squat goblin-like creatures."
Well, much as I like to read scientific research, I can't believe that Dr. Curry thinks it will be as far away as another 100,000 years. Has he never seen the chavs having around on the street corners, grunting at each other and communicating with wild hand-gestures? Has he not seen the drunken louts, staggering through the streets, urinating in corners and throwing up on the pavements and shouting at passers-by? Has he not seen them burberry-clad yobs, smashing bottles, trying to smoke two cigarettes at the same time, or the slapper tiny-teens pushing their prams around whilst swigging from bottles of booze?
Sorry Dr. Curry, but the future is already here. There's even a whole website dedicated to the research of the subject of the new underclass.
What we need to know is, how can we reverse it? Won't somebody think of the children?
23 October 2007
18 October 2007
17 October 2007
condition, because it is "an inevitable consequence of a society in
which energy-dense, cheap foods, labour-saving devices, motorised
transport and sedentary work were rife."
And there was me thinking it's because we eat too much and don't take enough exercise. After all, everyone knows that there is a direct correlation between your weight and the amount of food you put in your mouth.
A former neighbour of my father once said "No fat people came out of the concentration camps, whether they had a thyroid condition or not. They just didn't get fed enough. Sometimes they just didn't get fed." Sadly he knew this from first-hand experience and never fully recovered from it.
Surely the answer is simple. If you have a sedentary lifestyle, then you should eat less. The longer you consume more than you expend, the fatter you will become.
If only I could practice what I preach.
09 October 2007
Something the newsreader said, really angered me. He said "A 17 year old youth, who is too young to be named...."
Hang on a minute! 'Too young to be named' ? He's 17. He's old enough to marry, have kids, work, drive a car or a motorcycle, old enough to have a licence for a gun, but he's too young to be named? No he's damn well not! Name him!
This country's law is all arse about face. We have young people who are old enough to work and pay taxes, yet too young to vote, people who are old enough to marry and have children, yet too young to drive or drink alcohol.
Surely it's about time that we had a long hard look at the age limits for things, and set them all to a logical level ? It's about time that we decided when someone is an adult and when they are not.
If the Government insists that people cannot vote until they are 18, then I suggest that all workers under the age of 18 should be income tax-exempt. That way, perhaps we could give them a good start in their working lives. Indeed, under-18s get paid a lower wage than those over 18, so why not give them a little more help?
Many people have called for a blanket age of 18, when someone becomes an adult and is legally allowed to start doing those things listed above. However, others have argued that to suddenly be granted so many new rights all at once will overwhelm the poor darlings and they will go mad from the stress. Get real!
As for the 'age of criminal responsibility', here in the UK, this is set at ten years old. So, if at ten years old, one is deemed to be criminally responsible, why is the aforementioned 17 year-old deemed 'too young to name'? See what I mean? Arse about face.
Name everyone over the age of 10 involved in any criminal activity where they are brought to justice and deemed to have known exactly what they were doing. Let everyone see who the little shits are, then punish them suitably.
Personally, yes I do advocate the return of the stocks or pillory. Oh but you can't humilate them, it's against their 'human rights'... No, stuff their human rights, they waived their rights when they broke the law. Now, where are the rotten tomatoes?
01 October 2007
Former colleagues and friends of Steve Taylor are now desperately searching for information which could put them in touch with his long lost daughter Candice, who is believed to still live in the county.
When burglars ransacked Mr Taylor's home in Greenaway Close, in Blisworth, they took his laptop computer and various personal items which may have contained clues leading to his family's whereabouts."
I have just read the above on Cernunnos MCC's website and I'm stunned, shocked and upset. To whoever did it, that I hope your genitalia rots and drops off.
Harley Steve was a lovely man, and scum like these thieves deserve to rot in hell as far as I'm concerned.
30 September 2007
Anyway, here's a bit of text I knocked up a while back, concentrating on the rally itself:
It all started when Grav said he wanted to go and see a bus shelter. Naturally, we all thought he was nuts, after all, you can see bus shelters everywhere. However, this is no ordinary bus shelter. Unst, one of the Shetland Islands, doesn’t have much of a tourist trade, so one enterprising youngster decided to do something about it, and decorated the bus shelter at Baltasound, and it has now become something of a tradition. There’s not many bus shelters sporting curtains, a sofa, a coffee table and a TV, microwave, stocked bookshelf and a print of Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’. Anyway, when a friend told us about Shetland’s Simmer Dim rally, we thought it would be a good idea to use it as an excuse to ride up there and have a party, and see the bus shelter at the same time. Of course, being a long way, we just had to go up there for a few extra days and make a proper holiday of it. So, six intrepid travellers set off on the Sunday before the rally, and rode through the lake that was the M6 and off into the Trossachs, where Santa had booked us into a beautiful campsite at Killin. It had proper bogs and showers, and a really nice restaurant too! That night, we dined on roasted pheasant and red wine (cos we’re posh, us), and then stumbled off in a tipsy haze through the woods in search of Loch Tay. In hindsight, this may not have been a good idea, given that we hadn’t taken a torch, and Kerrie slipped in the mud and fell on her bum.The following morning, we set off to Aberdeen, but we were a bit over-enthusiastic and arrived at the ferry terminal more than two hours early, so we did the decent thing and went to the pub, like you do. We’d been warned to fill up with petrol before getting on the ferry because fuel is dearer on the islands. They weren’t kidding! The price ranged from £1.06 to £1.15 per litre, depending on how far away the petrol stations were from Lerwick.
We arrived in Lerwick early on Tuesday and were met by our friend Sheltie, who took us straight to the local Co-op café for breakfast and then showed us to the municipal campsite at Clickimin (a whole half mile from the ferry terminal). We booked in for a few nights before setting off for the local supermarket and bought loads of food for a relatively organised tea of steak, onions, mushrooms and spuds. Considering that it was cooked on a selection of Trangias and gas rings, it was a damn fine meal. After a damn good night’s sleep, Grav decided that we should go and explore the island, so we headed north on some nice smooth roads, until we came to the wet bit. Then we rode onto the ferry, and headed for the next dry bit - the Island of Yell. As the ferry docked, Pete on the Ducati lost his balance and ended up at a 45 degree angle, leaning against a car. He couldn’t get himself back up again, nor did he have anywhere to fall, and had to wait like that until someone went to rescue him, by which time his arm had gone dead. Then we continued our ride north on even better roads, until we got to another wet bit, and got another ferry to the next dry bit - the island of Unst. We went right to the top of Unst, to the northern-most inhabited settlement in the UK, a little place called Skaw, which consists of about three buildings. As we neared the end of the road, we realised we’d been beaten to it, by a bloke on a Velocette. We pottered around on the beach for a while and dipped our boots in the Atlantic and then set off on the journey back to the campsite. Of course, we did visit the famous bus shelter on the way back, and were greeted by some locals who were really pleased that we'd stopped by.
When we got on the ferry back to Yell, we were rather peeved that a lorry had been allowed to get off before us, given that all the roads on Yell are single-track most of the way. However, this lorry driver knew his stuff and threw the waggon down those roads with some amazing skill. He didn’t bat an eyelid when Grav passed him at, erm, slightly more than the prescribed speed limit, with me hot on his tail. We rode like demons and got to the next ferry just as it arrived and managed to get on it before the waggon, and zoomed back to the campsite.
Back at the campsite, we bumped into Otto. Honestly, you ride hundreds of miles and spend 12 hours on a ferry, only to bump into someone you know. Bloody typical! Otto gave us the sad news that a local lad, Mark Leask, had died in a bike accident on the main road up to the rally site, and warned us that the road might be closed. Our spirits somewhat dampened, we set off for the rally site at Vidlin, or so we thought. However, Grav had a different idea, and led us on a mystery tour, ending up at Twatt, just so that he could take a photo of the road sign. We then followed some very narrow, very twisty and very gravelly single-track roads over to Voe, taking in some stunning scenery on the way.
As we approached the rally site, we all slowed down and you could almost see a collective thought-bubble above our heads, containing just one word. “Wow!”. We went into the village hall, registered, and picked up our beer tokens. After pitching the tents, we heard a rumour that food was being served in the hall, so we stampeded back over the road and were amazed to find that the food was included in the ticket price. Later on, we headed into the beer tent and I was chuffed to see that there was a choice of local real ales from the Valhalla Brewery on tap. I’d already sampled the ‘Simmer Dim Ale’ on the ferry, so I opted for a pint of ‘Auld Rock’, a lovely dark ale with a smoky flavour. I was to have several more of the same over the weekend. Just to make sure it was still nice, you understand.
There’s something about the air up on Shetland, I’m sure, because we were all completely knackered by midnight and fell into our doss bags. I woke up at stupid o’clock, absolutely frozen to the bone. So much for my -15 sleeping bag then.
We had an evenly-paced run through Brae, and stopped at a café at Eshaness, where soup and sandwiches were laid on by the rally organisers, and then we set off again to Eshaness lighthouse and a stroll on the magnificent cliffs.
After admiring the view for a while, we set off again, to view a private collection of vintage British motorcycles, all of which are in full working order and displayed in a garage that was better fitted out than my house.
We spent Friday evening drinking more of the real ale and listening to the bands. Mid-evening, the Jarl Squad joined in the fun, only to be challenged at the door of the beer tent by a couple of Irish lads armed with a plastic sword and a kid’s bow and arrow set. They were easily defeated and retreated into the bar where they proceeded to stick arrows all over their mate’s head instead.
Friday night’s headline band was superb, playing everything from heavy rock to diddly-diddly music but, sadly I have absolutely no idea what they were called. They must have been good, cos they even got Grav up dancing - something he regretted the day after when the numbing effect of the alcohol wore off and his spine reminded him about that nasty bike smash a few years ago.
One of the weird things about Shetland is the ‘Simmer Dim’ itself; the haunting twilight that lasts from about 10pm to 3am, when it starts getting light again. It never actually goes dark, and it really screws with your head. Your body tells you it’s knackered and wants to sleep. Your eyes tell you it’s daytime and you should be away. Your ears can hear the bands and tell you it’s party time, and all your stomach wants to do is eat.
Saturday morning we awoke to drizzle, and we decided it was Shep’s turn to lead our ride out. We headed south to Sumburgh Head RSPB reserve and watched the puffins (now also known as gay penguins), kittiwakes, gulls and cormorants for over an hour before heading back to the rally site just in time to get the bus to Lerwick carnival, where we had a drink or three and a kebab before getting the bus back to the site and listening to the bands.
Sunday morning, the last day of the rally, started very bright. The sun was beating down and my tent felt like the inside of an oven, so I escaped into the coolness of the village hall, where the disco was still going, with one lone lass dancing away to her heart’s content. After a nice Sunday roast in the hall, and packing up the tents, we headed off up to Mavis Grind, a piece of land only 35 yards wide at its narrowest point, where the vikings used to haul their boats across from the North Sea to the Atlantic because it was quicker than sailing round. We’d been told that the North Sea/Atlantic Challenge was taking place that afternoon, where a replica longboat was to be hauled across, but we got there too late and missed it, so we had a wander round the stalls, and Spike had a go at making a horseshoe, combining two of his favourite activities - playing with fire, and hitting things. I think he missed his calling in life. He kept going on about wanting to be a llama farmer, until we threatened to beat him up, so he said he’d alpaca it in then.
On the ferry back to Aberdeen, we saw the news on the TV about the flooding in England, and before long, the bar was packed full of people, all standing in front of the telly, silent and shocked. The weather on Shetland had been great, and we had no idea what had been happening elsewhere. It was a rather sombre end to a fantastic trip. The Shetland Islands are beautiful. There’s a distinct lack of trees, and there’s certainly a lot of sheep. Every twist and turn of the narrow roads bring you another wonderful vista. The people are really friendly and we couldn’t have asked for a better welcome. The Simmer Dim is a damn fine rally, well organised, great fun, and well worth the trip.
This year, however, my luck was in, and so, on a lovely sunny Friday, Spike and I set off for Cirencester and nearby Kemble Airfield, where the rally is held.
When I arrived at the site, I was really impressed at how well organised the rally was, with clear signposting and ordered site layout. I always thought that Ogri was a huge rally, but it's not. It's a medium-sized rally with just the right number and mix of traders and 'socialising' area.
Usually, when I go on a rally, I don't tend to leave the site all weekend. However, I've never been to this part of the world before, so when Jay & Mark said they were going on a ride out, I asked if I could join them. After a slight technical hitch (we lost half of the group in Cirencester town centre), we set off to find Sapperton Canal tunnel. We parked up in a pub car park, and did the honourable thing and had a pint, and then set off for a walk along the disused canal bank. We found the tunnel entrance, which was blocked off, and then walked back to the bikes and rode off to find the other end of the tunnel. Again, strangely enough, there was a pub by the tunnel entrance, so we had another drink and then had a longer walk along the canal bank, and found a roundhouse, and lots of fruit trees. Sadly, we didn't have anything in which to collect the fruit, so we had to leave it.
On the way back, we called in at the supermarket and bought some ham, cheese and bread, and then back to the site for a picnic with Rainbow and Pierre O'Bollocks.
In the afternoon, we headed over to the arena area and sampled more of the very fine real ales, listened to the entertainment and talked for hours with our friends.
The following morning, disaster had struck. It would appear that the firm who had been contracted to keep the toilets functioning and clean, hadn't bothered to turn up, so by the time I needed to loo, there appeared to be only two left useable and the queue was very long, and very grumpy. I'm glad I went when I did, though, because it could only get worse.
Whilst we were thinking about packing up the tent, we were treated to a wonderful aerobatic display and I wished that I had brought the tripod for my camera. I still managed to get one or two half-decent shots though.
I really enjoyed the Ogri rally, and I hope I can make it back there next year.
25 September 2007
24 September 2007
Oh no you bloody don't. If you valued my call, you'd answer the damn phone, instead of playing a recorded message at me for 25 minutes. I'd rather get an engaged tone than have to pay to listen to that stupid message.
Erm... what was it I was calling about, again?
20 September 2007
17 September 2007
Come on Johnnie, come back to radio full time, please. We need you!
It's true, music does move the soul, and the stuff that Johnnie plays definitely lifts the spirit.
15 September 2007
I can smell the earth and the smoke from a wood fire, I can feel the dampness in the air, I can hear the small creatures rustling in the fallen leaves in my garden and in the woodland behind my house.
I love the autumn, it's the best time of year for filling your senses, for sitting outside and quietly taking in the wonder of nature.
Next weekend, I shall be attending the Mabon Rally again, and it will be wonderful, as it always is, sitting round the bonfire, passing round the drinks, telling tall tales and singing. I'm looking forward to seeing my friends again and sharing a bottle or several.
10 September 2007
Trust me, you don't need bloody air-fresheners, especially ones with automatic timers. If you want your home to smell nice, try keeping it clean and, if you must, use natural scents, like flowers or herbs.
Every day, I see things for sale that are completely and utterly superfluous. People are wasting money on useless tat, and some of it is wrecking our planet. Please stop buying and using all these nasty chemicals, they really are unnecessary.
03 September 2007
The Cerne Abbas Giant is a piece of Britain's rich history and for some stupid pillock to deface it just goes to show that these vandals are not fit to be part of our society.
So, to the dickhead who daubed purple paint on the giant: owing to the nature of the paint you used, you have caused what is possibly permanent damage to this historical site. You should be ashamed of yourself and I hope that you are caught and made to work on your hands and knees to try to put right the damage you have caused, and that you are made to pay for any materials used in that clean-up. For you, I would happily bring back the pillory.
I resent the fact that I pay the National Trust to help them to preserve our heritage, only for some dickhead to go and ruin it. I won't stop contributing but believe me, if I ever meet you, my boot will be meeting your arse.
30 August 2007
What's triggered this mini rant then? I have just received an e-mail containing 433 words, all as a single block of plain text, and not a capital letter in sight. There are plenty of full stops though, littered all over the place, not just at the end of sentences. The spelling is dreadful too. The correspondent complains about 'immergrents'. Believe me, some of the immigrants I deal with have a far better standard of English than many of the 'natives' I deal with.
29 August 2007
23 August 2007
22 August 2007
Some cynics might say that the Police are too afraid to tackle the real criminals, and that the little kids are an easy way of bumping up the figures.
At least the Judge has had the sense to ask the CPS to go away and consider whether or not this case really has merit. Personally, I wouldn't have bothered sending them away. I'd have just dismissed the case and fined the prosecution for bringing such a frivolous and expensive case when really, the Police should never have been called in the first place. Indeed, the Police should have answered the call with "He threw what? A cocktail sausage? Sod off, we're too busy dealing with criminals".
She's not exactly slim, this woman. She was wearing an above-the-knee skirt, and had her legs apart, with her belly dangling down to her, erm, well, I'm not sure what it was, but I think it winked. "Oh dear lord!" I exclaimed, and the boss turned to look and then said "Oh hell, I really could have done without seeing that, especially just after lunch". He then shuddered and went into his office.
Since when did people let their children get away with being nasty little shits? I'll tell you when - it's since the nanny do-gooders said "you can't tell children off, it's bad for their self-esteem" and "you can't give them a slap because that's assault".
Remember the old saying "spare the rod and spoil the child"? Well it was right. We now have a society in which kids can go around threatening, injuring and even killing people pretty much with impunity because people didn't want to hurt their feelings.
Well it's about time that society started fighting back. It's about time that the Government announced that if someone breaks into your home, you have the right to beat seven shades of shit out of them, with no come-back, because they shouldn't have been there in the first place. If someone attacks you, the you can fight back with whatever force you want, never mind this 'reasonable force' rubbish - your idea of reasonable might not be the same as the judge.
For many years, Smurf has been saying that the term 'outlaw' should be reintroduced in its original meaning, and he's right. If you put yourself outside the law, then you cannot expect to be protected by it. If little Billy goes and thumps someone and the victim thumps him back, then when little Billy goes running to mummy saying that the nasty person hit him, she should say 'Tough shit. You started it, you face the consequences.'
I remember an incident years ago, where a kid was being a little shit and one of his neighbours told him off. The kid was so annoyed that someone had dared to tell him off, that he went to tell mummy that the man had hit him. Mummy rang the Police, who turned up at the man's house to investigate. The man explained what had happened, and the Police Officer said that the kid had gone home with a red mark on his face. It was at that point that the other kids in the street came forward and told the Police Officer that the first kid had deliberately banged his head on the wall of the house before running in to cry to mummy. The copper then went back to mummy and read her and the kid the riot act. Sadly, the kid still grew up to be a shit, and has served time in jail since, so it seems that he didn't learn anything from the incident.
When I was a kid, if a neighbour told me off, I wouldn't dare tell my parents, because I knew I'd get another telling off and probably a smacked arse into the bargain. Some parents these days don't bother to discipline their kids at all, and then when the kid is arrested they blame it on a bad influence from other kids, and said "he's a good lad really". BULLSHIT take responsibility. OK, I accept that sometimes, parents do try their hardest and can't get through to the kids, no matter what they do, but the majority of these little shits have become so through a lack of basic discipline at an early age.
Last week, two friends of mine succeeded in apprehending two youths who had stolen goods from a local shop. Unfortunately, for them, a huge gang of youths then set upon them and threatened to stab them if they didn't release the thieves. My friends were hurt in that incident (but fortunately not stabbed) but the two youths did get arrested. This sort of thing is all too common and it needs to be stopped. It won't be stopped by talking nicely to the perpetrators, but it will be stopped if more severe consequences are introduced, like giving them a damn good kicking without fear of prosecution. My friends were very brave and I'm really proud of them for standing up to the youths and standing up for the law, and I'm glad that they're OK (relatively). Perhaps if more people followed their example rather than just standing by and watching, we can crack this crime.
21 August 2007
19 August 2007
If population decrease is what they are trying to achieve, there are far more humane ways of doing it, e.g. contraception. Believe me, contraception is better than murder.
Once again, a patricarchal culture has shown how fecking stupid some men really are. I'm sick of hearing about the oppression of women in other countries, because all that this sort of oppression means is that the men are insecure and scared of how good women really can be if left to blossom.
So, as a result of male insecurity, babies are killed or given away, foetuses are aborted and thousands of women have their lives ripped apart because the men want male babies and not female ones.
Hang on, I've got a better idea. Any man who believes that a female child should not be allowed to live, should be castrated, thus removing his poisonous thought from the gene pool.
08 August 2007
OK, I know that sounds really gross, but people can and do actually do this all the time. Supermarkets chuck out a phenomenal amount of perfectly good food, all thanks to legislation to protect stupid people. I spent years trying to persude someone that 'Best Before' doesn't mean 'Posionous On'. It used to drive me mad. When I was short of cash, I'd go through the 'reduced' section at the supermarket and buy the stuff where it was on it's last date. I'd take it home, put it in the fridge and ten minutes later, my boyfriend would throw it in the dustbin saying "You can't eat that, it's gone 'foisty'. What he actually meant was "I'm too stupid to be able to tell whether that food has gone off or not, so I'm throwing it away."
OK, I'll start with the dairy. Come on, I mean why does live yoghurt have a 'best before' date on it? Think about it. If it ain't covered in fur, it's OK to eat. Heat it up a bit and add more milk and it'll make more yoghurt for you. People seem not to know how foods are made these days. Same with cheese. If it hasn't gone hard, and doesn't have mould on it, then eat it. If it does have mould on it, cut it off and then eat the bit that isn't mouldy (unless it's a blue cheese, in which case it's supposed to have the mould in it). Milk: great stuff. If it smells funny and has gone lumpy, chuck it away. If it hasn't, then drink it, regardless of what the date on the bottle says.
Then there's stuff like fruit and vegetagbles. For heaven's sake, if you're too thick to notice when your fruit and veg have gone off, you really need help.
I digress. So, back to our Freegans. Would you go dumpster diving for food? Well, I'm not sure I would, unless I was desperate. I'd take packaged stuff, but I'm not so sure about loose stuff - you don't know what it's been in contact with.
This does open up a wider argument though. Why is so much perfectly good food thrown away? If they can't sell it in time, why do they over-stock? Why don't they drastically reduce the price to sell it off? Perhaps in this consumer-driven age, the punter is given too much choice. Do we really need 27 different brands and 150 different flavours of tomato sauce to put on our pasta? I think not, despite what people might say about competition and valid business. The world has gone mad.
03 August 2007
There's one woman in particular who has got to be the most boring person on the planet, and she shouts to everyone rather than just talking to them. "What did you have for tea? Oh, I had pie too. What type of pie? Oh that's nice. Are you having pie again this week? I might, but then I might not."
All of this is at full volume, and I can hear every damn word, even with the window shut. The problem is, it's so hot at the moment, I have to have the window open, so when I'm on the phone to a client, they keep pausing and saying "sorry, I thought someone was talking to you in the office". No, it's just the noisy bitch from across the main road who doesn't have a volume switch.
Right now, I have this almost irrepressible urge to stick my head out of the window and yell "Shut the fuck up you boring imbecile". Unfortunately, I don't think it'd do me any favours. My assistant suggested buying a super-soaker and squirting her every time she got too loud, to see if it would train her, like you train a dog not to piddle in your flowerbed. I'm seriously considering it. And no, Spike, before you suggest it, I am not going to borrow your air rifle, tempting as that is.
31 July 2007
26 July 2007
In the bleak midsummer,
frosty wind made moan,
Earth squelched soft as porridge,
water up to my knees;
rain had fallen, rain on rain,
rain on blooming rain,
In the bleak midsummer, just a day ago.
Our river banks cannot hold up,
nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
when down comes to rain.
In the bleak midsummer
a stable place sufficed
For half the residents of Gloucester who’d been flooded out.
Politicians and reporters
have certainly gathered there,
rescue helicopters and reporters
thronged the air;
But its not this month only,
and in maiden head,
residents are mopping up because of this.
In the bleak midsummer,
frosty wind made moan,
Earth squelched soft as porridge,
water up to my knees;
rain had fallen, rain on rain,
rain on blooming rain,
In the bleak midsummer, just a day ago.
Now he's told me he doesn't want to talk to me any more, he wants to talk to my boss, so he can have an 'adult' conversation about it instead. Fine, talk to my boss, it won't make any difference to the answer. The only thing this person has achieved by his petulant e-mails, all of which, incidentally, the boss has seen, is to annoy us all and lead us to the impression that he is a patronising wanker with nothing better to do.
We've all seen whiney little kids who go on and on, thinking that if they keep on asking they'll wear their parents down until they say yes. Well I'm sorry, but it won't work on me. I have given you my answer, and it doesn't matter who else you speak to, the answer will still be no. So piss off and crawl back under your rock.
There. I had to get that off my chest.
20 July 2007
18 July 2007
17 July 2007
Bloody funny though. Tip of the hat to HappyToast for creating this gif:
The Grauniad has a caption comp, and there's some wonderful suggestions in there. I think my favourites are:
- 'Quoitus Interruptus'
- 'Come on, if you think yer hard enough!'
04 July 2007
02 July 2007
Well done, Ms. Brzezinski! It's just a shame that your producer and co-presenters are morons who think that people actually care about the little twerp.
30 June 2007
The Entertainment Retailers' Association thinks that it will kill music sales. Well maybe they should have thought of that when they fixed all the prices at ridiculously over-inflated amounts.
Their representative said "It is an insult to all those record stores who have supported Prince throughout his career." Bollocks! The only people they supported were themselves. That's what businesses do. They couldn't give a shit if a musician succeeded or failed, they just want to make money by bumping up the prices to rake in as much as possible, and the failure of one artist won't matter, because there's hundreds more waiting to step into their place.
Perhaps if they started selling the music at a more realistic price, more people would buy it. I mean, why should I go to a shop and buy a CD for £15 when I can download it from the internet for considerably less?
Wake up, music industry, and smell the coffee. You've overcharged for too long, and now you're getting your just rewards. Fail to evolve and you become extinct.
I have to say, for my part, I have never particularly liked Prince's music, but fair play to the man, and fair play to the Mail on Sunday too.
14 June 2007
It has come to my attention that teenagers the world over are copying this bloke, walking around with their trousers sagging around their arses, and their grotty underwear showing. Every time I see one of these moronic people, usually spotty teenagers, I have the urge to grab their trousers by the waistband and jump them into their trousers, like mothers do with toddlers. For Pete's sake, learn to dress yourselves. I don't want to have to see your scruffy underpants and saggy arse jeans, you remind me of Claude Greengrass! Failing that, don't blame me if you get given wedgies on a regular basis; you're too much of a temptation.
Anyway, Politicians in the US state of Virginia are taking a stand against these scruffy oiks who wander around showing their grundies in public. I'm glad someone's finally doing something about this because it drives me mad.
Democrat Lionell Spruill is obviously missing the point though. He says it is a law that targets black people. Don't be bloody stupid man! Everyone I've seen dressed in this way has been white, and usually pretty ugly. Maybe they do it to take attention away from their poxy boat races.
13 June 2007
However, there are a couple of things that drive me mad about MySpace. First of all there's the people who only want to be my friend so that they can send me their spam, nude photos (yawn) and so that they can say "look how many MySpace friends I have". Get a life! Oh yeah, and if you want to send me nude photos, I'd prefer them to be of sexy blokes with decent bods, not skinny girls, cos they just don't do anything for me, OK? Bruce Dickinson or James Hetfield would be fine examples, or even Jon Bon Jovi, but lay off the anorexic bints with chests like xylophones, willya?
Then there's those 'Spaces' that play music automatically when you open the page. I use Firefox and I'm in the habit of having several pages open at once, so when you've got 5 different tunes all competing for your eardrums at the same time, it's not nice. Most of the time, I have my sound on mute. However, I have discovered some rather excellent bands through MySpace, like Winterstrain and the Deathstars. So, I'm just going to have to put up with it.
Backgrounds - they can be really nice, but some people have such garish backgrounds to their MySpace pages, that you can't actually read the text. Quit it!
The other thing that pisses me off is the bulletin board. I only log into MySpace about once a week, sometimes less frequently than that, and each time I go in there, there's a huge pile of bulletins and most of them are utter shite. OK, so let's deal with these in turn:
No, I won't repost your bulletin about false friends. I get at least one of these messages every week. If you think that, by reposting your message and spamming my friends, it proves to you that I'm your friend, you're wrong. My friends are real people. I meet them in person and we take the piss out of each other, get drunk together, help each other out and generally have a spiffingly good time. I also have friends who live further away, and regular visits are not practical, but we keep in touch by phoning each other, chatting online and occasionally making the effort to meet up somewhere halfway. Friends are not judged by their ability to repost spam on bulletin boards.
Then there's the bulletins in the form 'fill in the answers to these dumb questions' and spam all your mates with them. These just get deleted. They're for vacuous people who have no life. If you really want to find out who I fancy, ask me directly and I'll probably tell you. Generally, when I fancy someone, they'll know about it, and just because I fancy someone, doesn't mean that I'm after them. I'm perfectly happy with my current slave, thanks very much.
Not all of the bulletin messages are bad, though. For example, they've been a great network for publicising gigs. parties and general get-togethers. There's a message out there at the moment asking people to keep an eye out for some stuff a band had stolen and yes, I've reposted that, because it's worth it.
So, do I block the people who are constantly posting shite in the bulletin board, and risk offending them, or do I put up with it and just ignore their posts?
Maybe I'll just turn off the PC and go and ride my bike instead.
08 June 2007
07 June 2007
Why doesn't Miss Hilton get treated the same as all the other prisoners? Or are you telling me that Los Angeles prison service just sends all prisoners home when they're ill? I bet they don't. Not unless they happen to be celebrity millionaire heiress drink-drivers. I bet some ordinary Joe would get to wait out their illness in their cell, not in the lap of bloody luxury.
And here was me thinking it was just the UK law that was an ass, but no, it seems US law is too.
This lass summed it up right for me, and look at little girl lost's face. She was not happy. Jack Nicholson, however, was laughing his tits off.
30 May 2007
Thanks to you, when we came into work on Tuesday, the whole building was bloody freezing and it took three hours before the rooms were at a temperature where we could take off our coats. My fingers were so cold that I couldn't type.
The heating is on a timer system and has a thermostat too, so it only comes on at specific times, and only then if the building is colder than the temperature specified on the thermostat. It's set that way for a reason. It's a very very old building, and when it gets cold, it stays cold, and then no-one can work in it.
If you wanted to turn off the heating, you could have just pressed the button marked 'advance'. That's the one which has a sign on it saying 'press this button to turn off the heating'. But no, you had to turn off the whole bloody boiler, so there was no hot water, no heating, no nothing, until I went to investigate why the place was so bloody cold.
Thanks a bloody bunch. Next time, LEAVE IT ALONE!
29 May 2007
In the end, I got fed up of it all and placed a sticker on the letterbox, stating "No free newspapers or advertising flyers, please".
So why is it that I still get morons shoving stuff through? Can they not read? I suspect not.
OK, I no longer get the free newspapers, but I still get adverts for tree surgeons (Hello? Do you see any trees in my garden? No!), pizza takeaways (I'm allergic to tomatoes), carpet cleaning services (I have wooden floors), double glazing (that'll be the same as the double glazing that you just walked past to deliver the leaflet), driveway layers (you just walked up my driveway, didn't you?).
I also get those little catalogues put through, from local people selling perfumes or household knick-knacks. I never, ever buy anything from them. I knew that these people are just trying to make an honest crust, but surely they must notice that I just put them straight back outside? Sometimes they sit outside my house for weeks, until they either get collected or I get fed up and chuck them in the recycling.
Let me tell you this. If I want to purchase a product or service, I will approach a firm myself. Anyone who ignores my polite little sticker will most definitely NOT get my business. If you don't care enough to respect my wishes over a little thing like not wanting your junk mail, then I'm sure I can't trust you to care enough about doing a good job. All leaflets and flyers still go straight from doormat to recycling bin.
Then there's those little leaflets announcing a 'charitable collection of clothing' - which really means 'we're a profit-making organisation which will take away your unwanted clothing and then sell it to people who can't afford to buy new stuff'. Sorry, I only give my unwanted stuff away to registered charities - at least they sell the stuff on at a fair price and put the money to good use, instead of just pocketing it.
FFS, just stop putting this crap through my door - it's a sure-fire way of ensuring I won't buy your product.