Simmer Dim

I've been avoiding posting this for some time, because our trip to Shetland in June 2007 was amazing and there's so much I could write about it. Indeed, I did write a fair bit, but not half as much as Grav did. I suggest you go and read Grav's writeup, because it is superb, and I didn't know that the old fart could be so eloquent. His photos aren't half bad either. Mine are here. 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.

On Thursday morning, Freak and I got up early and went to meet Shep & Baglady off the ferry. We were quite surprised to see that the local television company had turned up to film all the bikes disembarking. Quite a few folks were obviously excited to be back on dry land, and did a few burnouts. One bloke was unlucky though, and managed to dump his bike on the quay, but accepted the laughter with good grace.

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.

Friday morning brought another pleasant surprise in the form of free tea and coffee in the hall. I was served with so much breakfast that I couldn’t finish it, so I took the rest back to the tent and fed it to Spike, and then wandered off with my camera. Just before 11:00, we assembled outside the site for the organised ride-out. 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.

Ogri Rally - 24-26 August 2007

For the past few years, my mates have been telling me how great the Ogri Rally is. Unfortunately, it's either clashed with work commitments or I've not been able to get a ticket (it sells out very quickly).

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.

Catching up

I've been a bit lax with my posting in here recently because I've been busy with various things. Anyway, I have a little free time today, so I'll try to do a bit of catching up. Watch this space for more posts...

Crying laughing

Mr. Blu-Tone, I take my hat off to you. My keyboard is now soaked with the tears I have been crying whilst laughing at this thread.

Definition
Schadenfreude: malicious joy in the misfortunes of others

The most irritating phrase I can think of

"Thank you for continuing to hold. We value your call."

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?

Quotation of the Day

From a reader in the Bolton Evening News:

"Blessed be the politically correct - for they will inhibit the earth."

Brilliant!

Mornings just got better

Hurrah! Johnnie Walker is back presenting the breakfast show on BBC Radio 2 whilst Wogan is away for a couple of weeks. At last, some great music to cheer me up in the mornings. Don't get me wrong, I do love Wogan, but his taste in music is pretty dreary.

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.

Autumn is here

Can you smell it?

I can.

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.

Does your home stink?

I was just wondering, you see. I keep seeing all these advertisements on the TV, with cute little cartoon animals going on about how the latest wonderful air-freshener will squirt earth-polluting chemicals into your home every 20 minutes so that it will mask the stink of your dog, cooking, sweaty feet, etc. and leave you feeling all fluffy and contented, thus assuaging your paranoia about people dropping in unexpectedly and then telling everyone how smelly your house is.

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.

Disabled parking only

As you know, I've got a right bee in my bonnet about bad driving and illegal parking, so when I was browsing the wonderful Kevin Bloody Wilson's website, I was overjoyed to see this. Where can I buy one?

What a wanker!

Fathers 4 Justice have proved, once again, that some of its members are not fit to be parents, because they are mindless idiots who induldge in criminal vandalism. They set a disgraceful example to children and it's hardly surprising that the mothers of their kids don't want them to see them. I certainly wouldn't let any child of mine associate with these yobs who are old enough to know better, and stupid enough not to care.

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.

Lost for words

What has happened to the English language? Well, not much really. It evolves, just like any other language evolves. What I really mean is 'when did the educational standards fall so low that adults seem to be unable to meet the standards of language expected from primary school children?"

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.

Street justice

This is what happened to a drug dealer in Northern Ireland. He was tarred, feathered, tied to a lamppost and had a sign hung round his neck, reading 'I'm a drug dealing scumbag'. Police have described it as 'brutal and barbaric' and have condemned the action.

So let's think about this.

The residents in the area that this person was operating had reported him to the Police on numerous occasions, but no action was taken, even though it is claimed that he was selling drugs to children. Fed up of no action, the residents took it upon themselves to deal with it.

The man was publicly humiliated, but he wasn't killed or maimed, just embarrassed and inconvenienced. Hopefully, he'll get the message and behave himself in future.

But what if they'd got the wrong man? Again, no physical harm was caused, but it could have ruined his life. Mud sticks. Or in this case, tar.

Every day we hear about drug dealers, gangs of feral youths, shootings, stabbings and attacks on random people, and the great British public have had enough. It's clear that the Police don't have the resources to cope, the law is an ass in that it protects the perpetrators' rights more than those of the victims and defenders of the law. People are reluctant to step in and say "No, that's wrong" and defend themselves and others, for fear of being criminalised themselves, and it has to stop. If the authorities can't or won't deal with it, then they can hardly blame civilians for rising up and taking direct action.

It's long overdue that the politicians should stop 'discussing' the problems and actually do something about it. Strengthen the law in favour of the victim, and reduce the rights of criminals. As previously stated in this blog - if you put yourself outside of the law, you should not expect to be protected by it. Live by the sword, die by the sword (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Headline of the week

I just love The Register, particularly because of headlines like this : Love triangle kidnap pampernaut preps wingnut defence and the article's closing paragraph:

"It was reported recently that Nowak was "shocked and overwhelmed" at the media coverage of the case. Fair enough, we say. There's clearly nothing particularly interesting about a nappy-clad, knife and hammer-toting, trenchcoated astronaut mother of three plotting to mace and kidnap a younger rival for the affections of a space shuttle pilot."

Tell me again that only poofs wear leathers?

Thanks to Acebikerchick for spotting this one:

Redneck crime

Thanks to Bassman for this one; it made I larf:

Two Reasons Why It's So Hard To Solve A Redneck Murder:

1. All the DNA is the same.
2. There are no dental records.

Now I'm really annoyed

Why is it that the Police have plenty of resources to arrest and prosecute a little boy for throwing a cocktail sausage, yet they don't have the resources to sort out the knife-wielding gangs on our streets?

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".

Dear, oh dear

My boss has been traumatised. We were out in the town centre at lunchtime and as we walked back to the office, the woman with a brain the size of a grape was sat on the step outside the drop-in centre.

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.

It's time to start fighting back

I listened to a report at 08:10 on the Today programme this morning, about girls in gangs, and the more I listened to it, the more I became angry. The girls interviewed were violent little morons who believe that you have to hurt people and terrify them to make them respect you. That's not respect, that's fear. If you force people to fear you, believe me, they probably won't have any respect for you at all. In fact they'll hate you and when you get caught, they'll be the first people to celebrate.

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".

BOLLOCKS.

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.

and another observation

If you put a hoodie on backwards, it doesn't half go dark...

Ngygghhhh!

Note to self: don't drink red wine immediately after brushing teeth.
Gah!

Commiserations, it's a girl!

This news story has really angered me. Do these stupid people not realise that it's WOMEN who give birth to babies? Obvious, isn't it? So why do they kill off female babies, when in reality the only long-term consequence is that there will be fewer women, which means fewer babies in the future.

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.

Yuck! but what a good idea!

Fed up of overpriced food in the supermarkets? Why not wait until the shop closes and then get the food out of the dustbins?

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.

Negative side-effect of the smoking ban

I did think that the ban on smoking in enclosed public and workplaces was wonderful. However, part of me is starting to change my mind. Why? Because of the drop-in centre opposite my office. When they could smoke indoors, it was dirty, smoggy and smelly. Now, they congregate outside to indulge their addiction. However, they don't just have their fag and then go back inside, oh no, they stand outside all day shouting at each other.

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.

Welcome Womble!

Yay, another Womble on the scene. Hail and welcome! Slowly, the Wombles are taking over...

Go and have a look at t'other Womble's blog :o)

In the Bleak Midsummer

The Bosun was bored at work, and produced this rather marvellous songette...

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.

Which bit of 'no' are you not able to understand?

There's a bloke bugging me at work. He asks a question, I say no. So he asks again, and I say no. So he asks again, and I say no, and so on. You get the idea.

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.

Quotation of the week

Frankie Boyle, on Mock the Week last night:

"Boris Johnson is ... the sort of person who, like, 200 years ago, would have died aged thirty leading a cavalry charge into a volcano..."

Further information on armed attack

The Burning Times has captured exclusive CCTV footage of the vicious attack on Homer Simpson at Cerne Abbas.

Desecration of our heritage ... ?

Pagan Prattle reports that the neopagans are all upset again because someone has used the Cerne Abbas Giant for advertising purposes.

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!'
• 'Homererotic'
• 'Dild'oh!'.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Asda in Stockport, hang your heads in shame. Take down that bloody Christmas tree, pack it back into its box and don't get it out again until December.

Outbreak of sanity in the USA

Mika Brzezinski, newsreader for MSNBC has finally done what the whole world has been waiting for. She refused to lead on a story about the pathetic little drunkard mentioned elsewhere in this blog.

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.

A wake-up call to the music industry

Apparently the music industry is up in arms because the Mail on Sunday is to give away free copies of Prince's new album, 'Planet Earth'.

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.

Arse!

There's a tramp in my town, who wanders around with his arse hanging out of his trousers. In fact he's frequently seen with something else hanging out of his trousers too, and he has been arrested for it at least twice to my knowledge. Thing is, you see, he has a mental illness and there's not a lot people can do about it. I actually feel sorry for him, cos he doesn't appear to have much of a life. I wonder if he knows that he's actually a fashion icon?

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.

MySpace

I can't make my mind up whether MySpace is a good thing or not. I mean, I can look in on my friends occasionally and see what they've been up to, and find out where my favourite bands are playing. I get invitations to parties and nights out and stuff like that, and I think that's ace.

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.

Judge orders Paris back to jail.

The poor little rich girl was last seen wailing for her mummy. How pathetic. The way she's carrying on, you'd think she'd been sentenced to death, not 45 days in jail.

I can't help but laugh at her.

Who says money doesn't talk?

So, Paris Hilton has been released from jail after serving only three days, because of an 'undisclosed' medical problem, and will now be under house-arrest at home instead.

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.

Thank you so much...

to the kind, helpful person who turned off the central heating boiler at work over the bank holiday weekend. I'm sure you meant well, trying to save energy, but, in reality, you're a complete dickhead!

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!

Bastard.

Drowning in a sea of junk mail

When I first moved into my current home, I was horrified at the amount of junk mail that came through the letterbox. Every Thursday, I would come home from work to find two free newspapers and a massive pile of flyers for local shops and businesses stacked up behind the door. It all went straight from the letterbox to the recycling bin.

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.

Take a few minutes to stop and think

Thanks to Mark for finding this.

Babies are evil

OK, most of us knew this anyway, but this really is going too far! Honestly, microwaving your kids and blaming it on Satan is just not acceptable!

Some people really are too gullible and stupid to be allowed to have children. This pair should be in secure accommodation somewhere well away from everyone else.

and people ask why I love Lancashire...

This is why:

Feeling better :o)

Still a bit bunged up, but not hurting any more :o)

still lurgified

but the dobber has been replaced by a cactus. Deep joy.

The Dreaded Lurgi

OK, which one of you lot gave me the lurgi? My throat looks like a war zone and I feel poo. My glands are all swollen on the right side of my neck and it feels like I have a dobber stuck in my throat and I'm having difficulty swallowing - yoghurt and coffee for breakfast today, not that I really feel like eating.

No snogs for me then :o(

What time does Boots open?

Please help to find a missing child

I know that people all over the world look in on this blog from time to time, so perhaps you could take a few moments to look at these photographs.

4 year-old Madeline McCann was abducted from an hotel room in Praia da Luz, Portugal on 3 May 2007. It is possible that she is no longer in Portugal, so please look at the pictures and if you see someone whom you think is this child, please contact the Crimestoppers on +44 1883 731 336. People with information about Madeleine can call anonymously.

Fiddling around

Had a great time at the NABD, even got to fiddle with STEViE in public - oo-er missus! Great pics too, cheers Yoda :o)

Speed kills ...

or does it?

This article about the rising number of motorcyclists killed on the roads in Wales, states that breaking the speed limit was a factor in 4% of the incidents.

That means that breaking the speed limit was NOT a factor in 96% of the incidents.

So, why is Richard Brunstrom so determined to harass bikers all the time? Perhaps he should concentrate on the other factors that were involved, like myopic drivers and poor road surfaces.

NABD

Off to the rally. Byeeeeee.

Pathetic drunk

An online petition has been set up to ask for a pardon for Paris Hilton's 45-day prison sentence for three violations of a drink driving conviction because she 'enlivens mundane lives'. The petition says she "provides hope for young people all over the US and the world. She provides beauty and excitement to (most of) our otherwise mundane lives".

How sad and pathetic are they? Do they really think that the poor little rich girl really gives a shit about them? Sure, she might be pleased that a few people seem to like her but, in reality, just a sad pathetic drunk who didn't think that the law applied to her. She couldn't give a toss about the mundane lives of the plebs who look up to her.

They also believes that she's been made a scapegoat to highlight the dangers of drink-driving. Sorry folks, they're just treating her like any other sad pathetic drink-driver who continues to flout the law.

She broke the law, she has to pay the price and go to jail and, hopefully, learn a lesson from it and not do it again.

But perhaps one should have sympathy for someone whose father chose to name her after a hotel (and an ugly hotel at that), and who accidentally made a sex-video of herself and accidentally had it published on the Internet just in time to get all the publicity for her new film. Yeah, right.

World's Shortest Fairytale.......

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said, "NO!"

And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing,lunching, drank martinis. Always had a clean house, never had to cook, had sex with whomever she pleased. Did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, travelled more, had many boyfriends, saved more money, and had all the hot water to herself.

She watched chick flicks, never wore lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants, and farted whenever she wanted.

The End

Loft update

My mate Dave came round last night and had a poke around in the loft. I'm very relieved to learn that there is no evidence of squirrel in the loft, and the birds' nests are between the roofing felt and the tiles. We've decided to leave them be until the birds fledge, and then Dave will fetch his ladders round, remove the nests and bung up the holes. There was also a small, extinct wasps' nest.

I really must get round to boarding my loft though. I had visions of Dave plummeting through into the bedroom. He's a bit braver than me!

So, big thanks to Dave and Jules for coming round to have a look and making me feel a whole lot better about it :o)

House under attack

My neighbour's daughter, Natalie, knocked on my door about 20 minutes ago, to tell me that there was a squirrel trying to get into my house. I stepped outside, looked up and sure enough, the offending beastie was on the edge of the roof. As we watched, it scuttered down the wall and then, from about 12 feet up, it launched itself onto the path and ran away.

Natalie's dad then invited me to walk down their driveway to see the state of my roof. Now, I've always been aware of a small piece of loose mortar and had it down as a 'round to it' job. However, it was far worse than I'd thought. From the vantage point of their driveway, I could see that there's actually two whole tiles-worth of mortar missing. I have at least two nest in the soffits, starlings and tits. If the birds can get in, so can squirrels.

I'm not a very happy bunny now, because Vic told me that the mortar was missing before I moved in - so why didn't the surveyor pick it up? Apparently the previous owner was well aware of the missing mortar and the birds' nests, but never bothered to do anything about it.

I am currently feeling not very fluffy at all. I don't like the idea of turfing out the baby birds until they're ready to leave, but I really don't want squirrels rampaging in my house :o(

I think I'm going to have to get a few quotations from roofers to see what needs to be done and how much it's going to cost me. I think I could do with a lottery win.

chewing things over

David Crausby, the Labour MP for Bolton North East, has launched a campaign to put a tax on chewing gum, in order to cover the costs of clearing the stuff off the pavements.

Nice idea! Strangely, it's exactly the same idea that the Liberal Democrats had back in 2005.

and whilst I'm on the subject of time off work

My rant about smoking also applies, in a way to parents. Just because my colleages have kids and I don't, doesn't mean that I should have to cover all their work when they have to rush off home to see to little Billy's snotty nose or grazed knee.

Yes, I know kids need looking after, I don't have a problem with that, but I don't see why I (or other childless workers) should have to do extra work for no extra pay.

I worked in one place where a lass was constantly being summoned to pick up her child from school, or leaving early to take the child to bloody ballet or swimming class. Everyone was pissed off with it, yet we couldn't do anything about it. I'm sorry, but if you can't work the hours your job specifies, change your hours or get a different job.

A child is, in the main, a lifestyle choice, not a necessity. If you choose to have 'em, you also choose to manoeuvre your life around them. That's fine. Just don't expect me to have to manoeuvre my life around them too. Your kids, your responsiblity and, on occasion, your problem.

I know some people who have given up their jobs completely in order to look after young children. It's not an option for some people, but those I've seen who have done it, have managed to bring order into their lives - not an easy thing to do with kids.

Me, I'm childless by choice. I can do what I want, pretty much when I want and I can keep the bottle of bleach and the box of aspirin wherever I want. So many of my friends whinge about how lucky I am that I can do all the things I do, and I just smile and say "yes". Selfish? Damn right.

Despite my lack of interest in kids I will, of course be happy to babysit for anyone. My rates are £5,000 call-out fee + £1,000 per ten minutes thereafter ;o)

Non-smoker? Here, have some extra work!

So, it has now been suggested that, in advance of the smoking ban on 1 July 2007, smokers should be given time off work to quit the habit.

Tell me this, then? Whilst all the nicotine addicts are off work, just whom do they think is going to do all the bloody work? Yep, all the poor non-smokers. Will they get any extra pay to take account of the extra work they'll be doing? I very much doubt it.

Years ago, I worked at a firm where smoking was allowed in the office. Several people complained, so the boss ordered that all smokers had to go outside to get their fix. It made the office environment so much nicer. However, the smokers used to be outside for about ten minutes a fag, at least four times a day. So they got an hour's dinner and 40 mins fag time. Yet, if any of the non-smokers got caught idling by the coffee machine for two minutes, they got lambasted.

On one occasion, my boss made a sarcastic comment about me not doing my work and said "what exactly are you doing then?" To which I replied "I'm having my fag break." "You don't smoke!" He said. "No, I don't, but if they can have 10 minutes away from the desk once an hour, so can I." He looked me up and down, smiled and said "OK, yeah, fair enough, but don't take the piss". I think I made my point.

I think it's great that smoking is going to banned in public places and workplaces; I might even start going out to the pub more often when I can guarantee I won't come back stinking like a stale ashtray. However, I don't see why the non-smoking workers should have to suffer workload-wise so that the smokers can give up outside the office. Surely the best place for them is IN the office, where they're not allowed to smoke - no temptation to light up there.

It is better to be thought a fool...

Why is it that people ask really stupid questions without actually thinking about it first?

Very often, people ring my office and ask when we hold advice surgeries. So I respond:

"The first Saturday of each month, at 10:30", and the dimwits say "Is that in the morning?"

or "The third Friday of each month, at 4.30", and the dimwits say "Is that in the afternoon?"

Of course not! We work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Work it out, stupid!

Grrrrrr.

Please help to catch a dangerous criminal

Got this on the wires, any info, please contact the Yorkshire Scooter Alliance.

Just got news through that one of the guys and his 12 year old, yes 12 years old passenger got kicked off by a power ranger near Rawdon on the outskirts of Leeds, the pair of them are going to be in hospital for about a week, thought those days were long gone, really taken the edge off a fantastic day.

Further info :

blue and white bike / blue helmet with black visor

The lads were relatively lucky in that the rider only had broken ribs and bad gravel rash, and the nipper only had skid burns to his back, that that's nasty enough as it is. If the perpetrator gets caught, I hope s/he gets done for attemped murder, because that's what it sounds like to me - deliberately causing an accident and then leaving the scene.

If you know who it was, do the right thing and tell the Police on 0845 6060606, Crimestoppers on 0800 555 111 or the Yorkshire Scooter Association.

Paranoia rules!

I wish the media would piss off and stop fueling paranoia in the UK. There's news stories today about a firm marketing slash-proof hoodies, to protect paranoid teenagers. Only last week, there was a new mobile phone incorporating a GPS 'bug' designed for little kids, so that parents can track their movement. FFS! They're little kids, the parents should know where they are - either at school or with a parent or minder. Little kids can't be made to carry bloomin' phones - they'd either get left somewhere or not taken out at all.

Get real, folks. Let kids be kids. If they're too young to be left unsupervised, don't give them technology to keep tabs on them - who will you sue when it fails? Parents need to be more responsible for the little ones. The older ones should be set free, not tied down with spy bugs and paranoia.

How the hell did people of my generation ever survive? We used to go off for hours, get mucky, have fun and go home for tea. We didn't need to be tied to our mothers' apron strings all the time.

Rules for life - teenagers take note

Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it!

Rule 2: The World won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3: You will NOT make £60,000 a year right out of secondary school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait 'til you get a boss.

Rule 5: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 6: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 7: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 8: Life is not divided into terms. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that in your own time.

Rule 9: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 10: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

If you can read this - thank an apolitical, non gender-obsessed, sexual orientation indifferent and pragmatic teacher with a firm grip on reality.

Bread

Last year, the lovely Ug gave me a breadmaker. He'd never really got on with it, so I thought I'd give it a go. The first couple of loaves were an absolute disaster but, for the past six months or so, I've enjoyed lovely fresh preservative-free bread.

Today, being absolutely starving mad hungry and not prepared to wait the three hours to make a loaf, I went to the supermarket and bought a small white loaf. When I tried to slice it, the loaf just squashed under my hands and wouldn't cut, so I thought 'buggerit' and got my little electrical slicer out - one of those with a circular blade - great for slicing fingers off. However, the loaf still deformed and I ended up with a strange-shaped slice.

Having managed to cut a couple of slices, I tried to spread the butter on it, and the bread just ripped, even though the butter was soft and I was being really gentle. The bread was all squidgy and soggy and really unappealing. Still, I was hungry and persevered. I wish I hadn't bothered. The bread was gooey and tasteless and before I'd even finished eating the slice, I felt quite sick. I think I'll stick to home-made, if that's the best the supermarket can manage. The birds will have a bit of extra food today, because I have no intention of eating any more of that revolting loaf, but I wonder if they'll be able to take off after eating it.

Bleugh.

Sad loss of an old friend

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to mourn the passing of an old and faithful friend. Magimix, my trusty food processor mixed its last batch of gingernuts on Sunday morning, after thirteen years of loyal service. In its final moments, dear old Magimix expired in a puff of smoke and a nasty smell before being carried out into the garden to the wails of "Oh bugger!"

You will be sadly missed, old friend. Rust in pieces.

Chocolate Jesus

I had to laugh at this.

The report on the Today programme described the statue as 'anatomically correct'. How the hell would they know? No-one even knows what the bloke looked like, let alone the size of his todger!

It's just a publicity stunt for the artist. He depicts a naked hippy and tells everyone it's Jesus and he proposes to unveil it during Holy Week. The Christian groups all go mad and way hay, instant world publicity for the artist. Nice work if you can get it!

However, I do agree that it's rather insensitive to make a sculpture out of chocolate when millions of Christians the world over have given up eating chocolate for Lent. Talk about temptation...

Wicca Lite

This was on UK Pagan, from where I have shamelessly copied and pasted it because it made me giggle.

Wicca Lite... Looks like Wicca, but with half the commitment and one-third the responsibilities...

Rather than celebrate festivals and moon cycles on their given date, W.L's settle for observing these activities whenever they can schedule time between their Pilates class and their appointment at the tanning salon.

Skyclad is reserved for those who are either young and perky, or those who are old and surgically perky.

Hand-made and lovingly decorated ceremonial robes are substituted with plain white sheets... to facilitate the transition to the toga party afterwards.

The traditional hand-written Book of Shadows has been replaced by... yeah,you guessed it... "The Idiot's Guide to the Book of Shadows"... Available through Amazon.com (buy in bulk, and qualify for free shipping).

Cakes and ale has been substituted with granola and green tea... or donuts and Red Bull... or tostitos and Coors Lite... depending on the circle.

The sword, wand, athame, bolline (or burin), salt and water bowls, besom, bell, cord, thurible, and pentacle are no longer used for ritual... These items are a pain in the butt hauling around, and besides, no one really knows how to pronounce half the words, or what to do with the objects anyhow...

By the same token, the altar has been considered superfluous, since it blocks the TV, which works just fine for holding the cakes and ale. Besides, access is needed to the DVD player, so everyone can watch that fantastic documentary, "The Witches of Eastwick".

Circles are too hard to form in the living room, so the Sacred Square has been adopted. For the convenience of the coveners, the furniture has been sanctified, so everyone can be comfy during the ritual.

Summoning spirits is strongly discouraged! No ones knows how to speak Enochian, or even ancient Hebrew, or even modern Hebrew, or even proper English, and it has been determined that the spirits do not respond well to text messages or email, so who needs 'em? They also have a nasty tendency of hiding in the corners of the Sacred Square, and no amount of Febreze will convince them to leave...

No deities will be called into the circle (or Sacred Square, as the case may be) whose names possess more consonants than vowels, or who possess any aspect other than the one of Peace, Love, and Warm Fuzzy Feelings. At the moment, our high priest and priestess are still searching for at least one suitable deity to fit our parameters... Glenda (not quite a deity, but close enough) is our most promising candidate, although we're a bit suspicious of her almost gleeful reaction to when that house fell on her sister...

Scrying, divination, astral travel, meditation, and other self-enlightening exercises have been deemed too time-consuming (not to mention, darn hard!),and have been substituted with drugs, therapy, and a copy of "The Idiot's Guide To Why Nothing Is Your Fault Or Responsibility".

We will gather together from time to time to discuss candle magic, crystal magic, healing magic, herb lore, and the like. Our discussion will include why these magics are too inconvenient to actually practice, and we will conclude our discussion with personal accounts of why life is hard and there's nothing we can do about it.

Other discussions will include:

• "Why we love the Fey" (because they're so CUTE!)
• "How to approach your Totem Animal in the Wild"
• "Which deities will accept ritual substitutions, and which ones will fry your ass for the insult"
• "Alternatives to cleansing with sage" (Lysol, Febreze, Fairy Dust, Nag Champa, etc)
• "Can your home security system be programmed to act as a Watch Tower during rituals?"
• "The ethics of using a Banishing Ritual on your in-laws; how to protect yourself from the Three-fold Law"(see our website "Wicca Lite for Life" for more discussion updates).

Wicca Lite is open to all comers, except smokers, who have been linked with Global Warming and will be the cause of the death of us all.

Bright blessings of Fairy Twinkles to all...

Lady Whitebutt of the Towelhead Tradition