Owns Himself Daily

Film clichés and a bit about Liam Neeson for some reason. It's organic this. Stick with it?

2011-06-14T10:58:00.000-07:00

As if there has been no time away at all (which works rather well as precisely not one person has noticed in the interim) I will now list a few cinematic clichés that always strike me as particularly entertaining.

I was recommended a film starring Liam Neeson by my Father the other night called Unknown. I sat down to watch said film with no prior knowledge other than 1. it had Liam Neeson in it and 2. it's premise (as relayed by the Old Fella, who knows to operate on a strict "no spoilers please" basis) involved a loss of identity at some point.

As a semi-cinephile I am a fan of Mr Neesons work. We won't talk too much about Krull, which I chose to hire from Screen Videos on VHS for my Tenth Birthday party and then every week after that until I was roughly about Twelve, but Darkman was a childhood favourite when I was going through my cool Sam Raimi phase and I read Keneally's Shindlers Ark in my early teens and thought he was brilliant in Speilbergs adaptation. Ra's al Ghul was a stand out character in the excellent Batman Begins and I consider Taken to be a "leave your brain at the door" revenge favourite.

Liam Neeson is also one of those actors that you grow to love as a person. Not that you really know them or ever will, but your perception of how they conduct themselves in the real world based on interviews and articles and such leaves you with that warm "he seems pretty cool him, I could see myself going for a pint with Liam" feeling and I was sad to hear of his wife Natasha Richardson's death a few years ago, it really made me feel sorry and upset for someone I have genuine respect for.

Same goes for Gary Oldman, Jonny Depp, Eric Bana, Michael Gambon, Daniel Day-Lewis, and numerous others. Anyone that is good at what they do but remains down to earth and humble with a sense of humour has always appealed to me.

Anyway I watched Unknown a few days ago and it is a fairly enjoyable film with a decent plot but it descends into complete film cliché about half way through and then never recovers. While watching, it occurred to me that I used to have a list of such things committed to memory and always meant to write them down somewhere so here they are:

When driving a car at high speed you must do all of the following things:

-1. Drive on the pavement, aiming at pedestrians and white Cafe' furniture while beeping your horn and gesturing with one hand for them to jump out of the way. This will positively affect everyone's reaction times and enable them to avoid harm.

-2. If you must hit an obstacle that is not another car, enemy, or anything relevant to the plot of the film, it must definitely be a blue barrel with an open top that is filled with clean water. Such receptacles are placed on every road in every major city in the world for the purpose of collecting fresh water but you will do no harm by driving into them and knocking them over/spilling their contents.

-3. If you are pursued by the police, simply engineer a situation whereby you can make them crash into each other. This means that two or more police cars are incapacitated (if you are really lucky, loads more will smash into the back of them also) but yours is ok so you can then drive away but they are unable to catch you. In case you are unsure of your success this event will always be indicated by the sirens of the police cars making a sort of "weeeeeooooooouuuw" sound (I am not sure this translates too well when I type it) as they sort of stop working.

None car related:

-4.If at any point you encounter someone that writes/draws/paints for pleasure and they are above average, it is imperative that you do not make an issue of this as most people do not think that their work has any merit at all. If for example the other person has secretly drawn a really good portrait of you in pencil, they will not at any point appreciate you telling them that it is really good or that they should do more portraits in pencil. This only serves to draw attention to the fact they are insecure.

-5.Any and all mixtures of letters and numbers that are handwritten anywhere (inside the front cover of a book, behind a hung painting etc) are references to a Bible passage and are a piece of piss to decipher. Simply obtain a Bible and look up the corresponding bit. Like John 3:16 and that sort of business.

-6.If anyone shows you a picture of their bird/wife/newborn kid, they are brown bread in the next act. Keep away from them. Brown bread means dead as it rhymes with dead.

-7.If you trust someone and always have, that means they are a 100% grade A twat and will probably try to kill you at some point. A good way to counteract this is to never trust or love anyone ever. Basically if you are searching in vain for the someone that wronged you/committed some crime/is the head of the massive conspiracy that you are trying to unravel then go for the the person you have confided in the most. I would especially recommend the frail elderly man as it is always him. And he secretly used to be a Nazi.

-8.Firearms will always be in abundance but it is important to know when to use one correctly as your enemy and you will always shoot more bullets than your gun can physically hold and then run out of ammunition at exactly the same time leading to the possibility of a fistfight which you may not be in a position to win.
Here is a rather large tip: when you encounter a downed foe, take his gun. If you have the same type of gun or one that fires the same calibre of ammunition then take his spares, empty his gun and then reload yours. This is really easy to do and will gift you a tactical advantage but nobody ever bothers with it except in Die Hard, which is the best action film ever and nobody has taken note, even when they should have done.

-9.When having sex with a women, make it last more than twenty five seconds of clothed humping, no foreplay, blind insertion and arched backs as in my limited experience they don't like this very much. The kissing with tongues part is cool though.

-10.If you ever fall out of a building, the metal roof of a car, however forgiving and crumpled afterwards it may be, will not save you. I would suggest either falling onto something soft such as a stuntman's air mattress or not falling at all and taking the lift.

-11.By the same token, if a car ever hits you, you will always roll up over the bonnet and smash the windscreen with your body, but it's totally cool as you will not be harmed save for a few freely bleeding cuts on your face.

-12.Never order a double spirit on the rocks then down it in one, then order another and do the same, then order another and do the same, then order another and do the same, then order another and do the same, then order another and do the same, then order another and do the same. Normal people do not drink like this and you will be fucked and have to go home early.

-13.When diffusing a bomb, DO NOT call upon any actual training or bomb diffusing expertise. Simply pick the Green wire, think about it until the digital timer counts down to 00:01 then change your mind and cut the Red wire. This will prevent an explosion 100% of the time.

-14.If you have a big dog, train it to not bark when it is about to be easily killed or if it is about to eat a juicy steak. Train it to whimper or be happy in these situations but by all means teach it to bark loudly at all other times.

-15.If you own a laptop computer, always allow it to be easily stolen and never password protect it as this would prevent simple access. Same goes for removable USB drives, never password protect them and if you backup your computer onto them then make sure you leave them out in the open so that they can be nicked.

-16.If you are on a subway train and are being followed, wait for it to stop and get off. As the doors are about to close, hop back on again. Your pursuers that will be in another car, as seasoned as they may be, will never spot this, will never be prepared for this and will then run alongside the train with an expression of frustration tapping on the windows as if they will be able to go fast enough to override it's momentum and thus the door mechanism. And I say fuck them, they want to get you and I don't want them to.

-17.Feel free to shout either "Noooooooo!" or a persons name if they ever die in your arms after a few minutes rather than taking the time to get your mobile out and call the ambulance that would inevitably arrive within that timescale and possibly save them.

-18.Always offer a person that has professed to be a recovering drug addict/alcoholic a drink/some drugs like it's the most normal thing in the world. This is THE most sensible thing you can ever do as it allows you to have a great night.

It was organic and I hope you stuck with it.

The pendulum of sexual preference.

2010-08-18T06:48:00.000-07:00

Like most of you I imagine, over the years some of my opinions have evolved and my personality has had a few tweaks here and there as I have got a bit older and wiser. Growing up on a working class Yorkshire housing estate instilled in me a few "default" ways of thinking that I never thought to deviate from until I became a bit more self aware and gained enough real world experience to form my own opinions. One of the standard beliefs held by my peers (and so by association me as well) was that any male that deviated from the sexual norm of liking girls was disgusting, a person to be feared and hated. This led to the mistaken belief that where we lived and where we went to school there were no gay people. To us gay people were so alien they seemed to live a million miles away from our world where people drank, swore, had tattoos. went to the footy and got into fights.

Obviously this was due to the fact that if anybody at any of the schools I attended had admitted to being gay then their lives would have been made a living hell for the entire duration of their education. In my last few years of high school this prejudice was at its peak and although there were a few vague rumours about one or two lads and lasses, I never actually met a bona fide "out" gay person until I was in my early twenties and even then I had the firm conviction that a person was either 100% straight, 100% gay, or in the case of the bisexualised, 100% a swinger of both ways.

It was only when I begun to have the casual acquaintance of homosexual people via friends of friends or through work did I begin to give the subject any more than a passing thought. I'm not sure whether this is due to some kind of personal repression or if I am the same as everybody else but I do recall a time when I could never have admitted it to myself, much less the entire world, that I could acknowledge the attractiveness of another man. Nowadays, and more increasingly the older I become, I couldn't give too much of a fuck what most people think of me and anything as trivial as people speculating about my sexuality would make me cackle like a witch but back in my teens I would have been very embarrassed at the prospect.

I never really recall going through any cast iron doubts about my being straight, I knew from a pretty early age how affected I could be by a nice looking lady wearing not very much and I never harboured any feelings for any of my mates or any male celebrities but I found it a bit strange that I could see someone that was better looking than me and who got more attention from girls at school and along with being envious of this, there was a very definite sense of appreciation on my part. I was not at all comfortable acknowledging this.

Much later it occurred to me that absolutely everyone can be placed on a sliding scale of sexual preference and none of us are homo or hetero by default. The very, very gay are on one end of this scale, wearing outrageous outfits and buying everyone champagne and on the other there sits a man with a pint of mild and a copy of The Sun secretly terrified that his Son might one day come out because he is still single and listens to Robbie Williams.

On this scale I would place myself at about the 80% straight mark, as I am a man that goes doolally when my girlfriend seduces me with new underwear BUT on the other hand I can comment on how well another man wears his suit without being self concious. I like watching a good scrap BUT I cry at the drop of a hat when kids are suffering on TV. I can easily have my head turned in summer by a lass with long tanned legs, and will mostly let my eyes linger for a moment too long at the risk of getting busted BUT I did once see a picture of David Beckham with his top off and thought he looked strikingly good.
Take a moment dear reader to be honest with yourself and put a percentage figure on how straight or gay you are.

Nowadays people (especially youngsters, or "the yoot") seem to find it a lot easier to comment on such things and seem to lack the repression of years gone by. I was struck by this the other day when reading the excellent Generation Kill, Rolling Stone reporter Evan Wright's account of his experiences with 1st Recon Battalion of the US Marine Corps during the second invasion of Iraq.

One passage of the book quotes a Marine referencing the physical attractiveness of Sgt. "Fruity" Rudy Reyes, a (straight) fitness guru and martial artist who is considered to be the most attractive man in his platoon:

"It doesn’t mean you’re gay if you think Rudy’s hot. He’s just so beautiful," Person explains. "We all think he’s hot."

I was surprised that such an attitude would be present, much less comfortably vocalised by a gung ho US Marine and experienced badass killer but there it is and I thought it to be an hilariously candid quote.

In a weird kind of way I suppose I am quite proud that I am not a product of the environment I grew up in. For instance I know men for whom even discussing two men kissing or having sex is too much for them to bear, they squirm and screw up their face as if to vomit, as if the mental image will somehow turn them. Way I see it is: ok, as long as there are nubile young ladies in stockings and thongs with push up bras and nice heels in this world it's not for me and never will be. It wouldn't arouse me or give me any pleasure but fuck it, whatever makes you happy or gets you going is what you should be doing, in accordance with the standard disclaimer that it's all consensual and nobody comes to any harm. I could certainly never be offended by two people of the same sex being affectionate in public as I know some people are and I see it as progressive that I have such a radically different attitude than the one I was programmed with as a child.

So in essence what I am trying to say is
A: "Go me! I am so accepting!"
and
B: "I admit that I am 20% gay."

Arrogance is worse than genocide. Probably.

2010-06-07T12:17:00.000-07:00

In 1935, the boxer Joe Louis was undefeated in more than twenty fights. He was beaten by 2nd round knockout that same year by the German Max Schmeling. In 1937 Louis became Heavyweight Champion but declared that he did not and would never feel like one until he fought a rematch with Schmeling and defeated him. The rematch took place in 1938 and Lewis duly lived up to his promise and dropped Schmeling in the first round. He then went on to be the longest reigning undefeated World Heavyweight Champion in history, holding the title for 11 years and 10 months.

Now the above is a very brief telling of that particular tale, glossing over many important facts and omitting much detail. The story of a black American and a Nazi posterchild going head to head as respective champions of two countries edging toward world war and the fact that white South Africans at the time were willing Louis to fail and blacks and whites were knocking seven bells out of each other in the streets of Harlem when Schmeling won the first fight make this story one well worth seeking out and I implore you to do so.

There is one fact amid all this that simply fascinated me when I read about it. It triggered a notion that had occurred to me years before and that I had not thought about since. The fact is this: during the rematch between Schmeling and Louis, German Minister of Propaganda Joseph Goebbels was monitoring the live radio feed from America and when it became apparent that Louis had won by knockout he ordered the delayed broadcast to be terminated so that the German public would not learn of the defeat. This simple act of a powerful regime, as stupid and pointless as it may seem, interested me beyond measure.

And the notion it inspired was this:

Most folk regard dictators such as Adolf Hitler, Idi Amin, Nicolae Ceauşescu, Pol Pot and numerous others as evil for a few very simplistic and morally sound reasons. They were murderers. They commited genocide. They were haters of colour and of creed. They persecuted homosexuals and the disabled and the Jewish and snubbed out anyone they saw as a threat or a challenge.

But lets hold on a minute and take a little step back. A few facts for you:

-The concentration camp was invented by the British.

-America was still forcibly sterilising young girls who they perceived to be potential Mothers of stupid children in the 1970's.

-During and after WW2 thousands of displaced Europeans who had nothing whatsoever to do with the Nazi regime were executed for the simple reason that nobody wanted to give them a home. If you weren't a German citizen or a Russian one, a lot of the time you were shot just because you posed an inconvenience. Shot by the heroic and righteous Allied forces by the way, not the evil murdering Axis powers.

Consider that every nation on earth present and past has at some point murdered and invaded and most of them are still engaged in such activities and things aren't as black and white anymore. Consider that the previous and current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have resulted in the deaths of thousands and thousands of innocent men women and children and it is your country that is responsible and your moral yardstick might just get a little bent out of shape.

The real way you can measure true evil is this: how much are the people in the seat of power willing to lie to you and me? How far will they go when bigging themselves up with outright lies or when suppressing the thoughts of others and their access to information? The true bastard will always take this path as Goebbels and his Ministry did during Louis's victory.

Have a proper gander at any propaganda poster of Joseph Stalin and you will see a tall, proud and able leader with not a hair out of place. In reality he was a shortarse with a gammy arm he could barely use but if you were an artist and if you were to have painted him in such a light, well, he would have shot you in the head.
Stalin was famous for erasing a person if they pissed him off. He would literally rewrite history after he had you executed so that you didn't exist and never had. Official documents would be rewritten with no mention of you as before and then replaced in the archive, the original destroyed. He even had a team of photo retouchers that would make you vanish from any official photograph, again as if you had never existed (no mean feat in the days before Photoshop and the like), and they were bloody good too.

I read a truly stunning example of this type of misinformation recently. According to Kim Jong-Ils official autobiograpy, he was born under a double rainbow. And he doesn't take a shit like all other North Koreans, in fact our Kim doesn't shit at all. Now this may sound like a slightly bonkers "fact" but that is what he wants the world to think of him, a shining multicoloured light in a world of shit (but not his). Perhaps the mental image of an overweight infant-like Korean in a smart uniform or Dad kagool straining on his solid gold throne as his digested Hennesey and caviar fire their way out is not one he would like us to have, we will never know for sure. Personally I see this as hugely counterproductive, ie all that reading this served to do was make me imagine him having a poo. You can be shot in Korea (legally) for disputing this information by the way. I am taking my life in my hands even typing it now.

Take China's recent spat with Google. China doesn't want it's citizens be able to turn on a computer and search for things in the same way basically all of us do. No, that would be allowing people access to information (fact, if you will) that runs the risk of contradicting official propaganda and teachings so they banned access to the internet via the worlds biggest and richest search engine. No sneaking about, no clandestine moves here, just a big fuckoff hamfisted gesture that basically anyone with a third of a brain and one eye can see through.

Islamic states like to ban music and porn, I mean come on where would the world be without music and pornography? In Saudi Arabia you can be put to death for "practising magic" and this can range from using herbs in certain rituals to simply having a belief system that differs from the accepted Islamic norm. Who can forget "Comical Ali" and his comedy propaganda statements during the second Gulf war as the American tanks rode into Bagdad? "No my friends I can assure you that the Iraqi army is far from defeat, we are kicking huge arse as I speak and the infidels will shortly be leaving". It was like that Knowing Me Knowing You episode where the female guest says "We're all naked under our clothes Alan" and Partridge replies with perfect sincerity "I'm not".

I suppose it's the pure arrogance and vanity of such things that gets to me more than anything. the second guessing and patronisation of loyal subjects to the extent where even the person doing it must have a bit of a discussion in private where they say "Lads, they are never going to go for that, not in a million years" and then someone else replies "Fuck it Adolf, if anyone speaks out or argues we can always make an example of them".

Anyway there you go. Murder isn't especially evil, we've all been doing it for thousands of years, it's arrogance and dishonesty that makes for a true dictatorship.

Oh My Good Lord. Dubai Interpol headcase poster update.

2010-04-19T13:01:00.000-07:00

I was strolling home tonight after a hard days work and decided to check my balance at a rather secluded cash machine. What should be taped above it ladies and gentlemen but PART FUCKING TWO!!! THIS WAS A COMPLETE COINCIDENCE!!!

This revised and expanded edition now includes such gems as the all new list of references which include Harrods owner and crusader against government conspiracies Mohamed Al-Fayed, MP and founding member of RESPECT with a nice line in sexual cat impersonations George Galloway and "dead beside a bottle of gin on a mountain" Chief Constable Micheal Todd.

I have decided to refrain from indulging myself for once and let the pictures speak for themselves so I implore you dear reader to take the time to read this madness in it's entirety. I do however feel that I must at the very least quote the following line: "Digital Star trek Deborah came late, no room on Page 3 for you. You Exposed silly girl." That is sage advice right there.
CLICK ON THE PHOTOS TO MAKE THEM BIGGER!

THIS INFORMATION ORIGINATES FROM A BIOGRAPHY WHICH WILL BE PUBLISHED UPON THE DEATH OF IT'S AUTHOR.

I can't fucking wait to read that, it will beat the living shit out of Katie Price's.

Interpol/What the fuck is going on here?/TEH SAS!

2010-04-07T08:23:00.000-07:00

In the window of my local library (just as I imagine is the case with most others) there is a host of information for the bored nicotine fiend to check out before entering such as details of the local flower show, info on where to obtain help and support for the hard of hearing or those among us that only read Punjabi, museum and theatrical events and so on. Today they have been joined by this product of a diseased mind (who incidentally must have obtained permission to display it meaning more than one person thought it was a good idea).

I will try to break it down for you as best I can:

Interpol (probably the Dubai branch) are apparently keen to speak to the pictured gentleman who is a killer.

He has more than one name (as is usually the case with these Carlos The Jackal types) including the Patrick McGoohan-esque moniker "Number 14" and his interests include cross dressing, dressing up as a fireman, practicing stage accidents (what?) and receiving identifiable injuries (don't we all?).

He has a pilots license that was probably issued in Zimbabwe and his known associates include an old fella from the village I live in, controversial seller of American weapons to Iran and US soldier Oliver North and Andy McNab, the famous Security Expert for The Sun newspaper.

Andy McNab (or Steve Mitchell as anyone who has ever served in the British armed forces and heard a grapevine once would have you believe) you will recall was the SAS Sergeant that led the ill fated Bravo Two Zero Mission in 1991 during the Gulf War and the first member of that patrol to write a book about it. Our man Number 14 knows some serious people.

All this is presented in a black and white photocopied format that has been annotated with black felt tip before duplication. Those reading old enough to recall skateboard/music zines of the 1980's and 90's will be familiar with this layout and it lends itself well here to the insane cut and paste paranoia of whoever knocked the poster up.

What kind of mentalist takes the time to do the "research" for this kind of thing and then print it out and ask to display it in the window of a public building? Foreigners it will be, you mark my words.

I am in no way trying to pooh pooh the seriousness of the issue and if there is a wanted killer roaming around our village I want to know about it as much as the next man but the main reason this has unsettled me is that as I sit here in the early hours of the morning with a shaved head, spectacles, a bit of a beard and a slightly satisfied grin (I had a wank earlier*) I am terrified that someone saw me take a picture of the library window and has passed the information to Interpol. What if Andy McNab's former regimental colleagues are fixing to come storming into my house in a case of mistaken identity in order to take me out? What then?

The saddest part of this hypothetical scenario is that I would well get off on that. I would be checking out the cut of their Nomex overalls and asking to look at their firearms. "Can I hold your MP5K if you take the mag out of it!!?" I would shout with unrestrained glee as they dragged me from my desk.

*It has been brought to my attention that my sister read this and so I would just like to point out the statement about having a wank was completely untrue. I only put it in there to sound funny. To reiterate, I have never indulged in that sort of sordid activity and frankly, I never will. Especially not into a sock or while watching Loose Women. The very thought makes my skin crawl. Thank you.

Winding up Malaysian internet scammers.

2010-02-18T02:55:00.000-08:00

The company I work for has recently been bombarded with fraudulent orders and before I blanket block the perps's IP addresses I thought I would have some fun with them. They have created two different accounts and have been placing a few orders a day for the best part of a week. I don't expect a reply and although it does pain me that I never seem to be able get my teeth into a really good back and forth with them I thought I would share them anyway and post up any replies if and when they come through. They ignored the first email (you should have seen me, I was fuming) and carried on placing orders so I sent the second one. I should start doing this with English people, at least I might get some mileage out of it.

I am fucked off with Google now as well/Businesses named by winners.

2010-02-10T02:59:00.000-08:00

This is a multi subject post dealing with my inadequacies as a "blogger", the fact that Google are too selfish to let their streetview technology prevent me from being a lazy fucker and almost as an afterthought the fact that some businesses are named by geniuses and some are named by idiots.

Let me begin by explaining that I did intend to take pictures of some shops and shit to illustrate this post but then kept forgetting/was too idle. I actually did do it once but it was dark and they were a bit wank and if you don't know by now that quality is my watchword here then it's unlikely you ever will.

I even asked a few people to send me photos of shops and stuff that they had mentioned when the subject came up in conversation but I got exactly fuck all so I am taking it upon myself to do it anyway and then maybe edit later (this will 100% never happen, it's like every time I promise my girlfriend that I will put the bins out on a Sunday "no love I won't forget" and "yes love just go to bed". I have every intention of doing it, am even offended by her assertion that for some reason I might not, I just somehow just never actually achieve it and she then has to get up in the morning and rush after the dudes in the truck with our full wheely bins).

Anyway I had an Archimedes moment and thought "just use streetview and then screencap it you FUCKING OLYMPIAN OF A MAN".

Here are the results:

Takin' The Pizza.

When I was a young man I professed to a few friends that I had an ambition to one day open a pizza shop and call it "Pizza The Action". Looking back it was a poor ambition to have, the moniker was neither funny nor rude enough and didn't have anywhere near the amount of "je ne sais quoi" as the above purveyor of fine pizzas.

I like this one, it mixes elements of the inane with the potential for profanity and so works on a few very clever levels. If you are a patron and assuming you are not having your pizza delivered by the goons in the modified Pergeout 206 that provide this service, then you may want to walk in, order your meal and "take it away". Are you with me? You would then literally be TAKING YOUR PIZZA. But get this: sometimes in English parlance, if a person is seen to be taking advantage of a situation in order to satisfy themselves or perhaps for personal gain then they are said to be "Taking the piss". It is I am sure you will agree a fine thing when someone decides to combine the two and push the envelope in this manner.

The problem here was that streetview won't let me pan around the bus stop and so the shop front is less than visible. At least we can see the sign so it's not a completely lost cause unlike:

Tanorexic.

This one didn't work out so well for reasons that are evasive and on the tip of my tongue. Come to the fore I beg of you! Ok so you will just have to take my word for it but this is now a tanning/beauty salon called Tanorexic, I shit you not. The beauty (fnaar fnaar) of this name is that it isn't even just a massively misguided play on words. That would be bad enough, but Tanorexic is actually a term used to describe people that are addicted to going on a sunbed, something that can be detrimental to ones health and lead to cancer of the skin.

It's akin to calling an off licence "Tommy's Liver Cirrhosis, Impotence and Lung Cancer Emporium" or a supermarket "We Fuck Farmers And Local Businesses Right Up Their Puckered Ringpieces And None Of You Poor Bastards Are Left With a Choice" (although the signmaking for those could possibly prove to be a pain in the arse.)

Ace Dentura.

It's snappy, to the point and a reference everyone will get isn't it; you think "my car has a minor imperfection or ding in it's bodywork that could be remedied by conveniently calling a mobile repairer of such things" and before your synapses have finished firing you have equated said service with a mid nineties comedy vehicle and springboard that launched the career of Jim Carrey. It is a link lost on no fucker this one.

I am especially proud of this picture as it is not from streetview but one of my own taken with my phone from the bus stop I wait at on a morning amid a load of commuters, in the snow and freezing cold with one hand while trying to keep steady and not look like a raving lunatic that takes pictures of passing cars. So there.

This entry or whatever the correct term should be was encouraged by @Linz_Smith.
Follow him on Twitter and if you happen upon him in a London nightclub or gig then suck him off in the toilets. But make sure he finishes.

If.

2010-01-25T15:19:00.000-08:00

"IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"

-If by Rudyard Kipling.

If (careful now!) there has been a poem written that illustrates perfectly the manner in which I aspire to conduct myself in every day life then the above surely must be it.

Kipling, in later years became the subject of criticism because it was perceived by some that his poetry was lacking in intellectual depth. Personally I think that "If", at least, has enough to teach the everyday person as regards integrity, being humble and how to be a decent soul with a bit of self belief that I couldn't care less about it's complexity or lack thereof. It's just a great, life affirming, fear abating poem and it is one that I revisit often especially in times of strife.

I have a funeral to attend tomorrow and reciting this poem has helped me face what must be done.

"A choice like that ain't no choice at all."

2010-01-23T11:33:00.000-08:00

Deep within the catacombs of a Northern shopping centre there exists a long corridor lined with ducts and huge piping. Walking down it reminds one of a scene from A Nightmare On Elm Street and it is easy to imagine looking over your shoulder to be greeted by the sight of stripy maniac Freddy Kreuger bounding in pursuit with his razors scraping and sparking off the walls and spittle dripping from his burnt lips.

Anyway, at the end after a right turn is a lonely and somewhat ripe service lift and upon entering you are presented with a surprising choice. Neo had his little Blue or Red pills, Alice was asked to "Eat Me" or "Drink Me" and yesterday I too was asked to make my selection. Which button did I pick dear reader? Well let me simply state with a wry smile and a wink that a Gentleman never tells.

Oh shit I knew I would leave one out. And also a bit about hate and stuff. Bear with me.

2009-12-21T14:29:00.000-08:00

Sorry, sorry I was distracted and tired and it was late and I promise that I'm not making excuses and I know it's unforgivable but I forgot Robbie Williams.

Robbie Williams is not a figure of hate for me. I can't really say with any degree of honesty that I "hate" him. I find it hard to really and truthfully hate people I have encountered in real life, much less someone I don't know at all. I can count the people that are walking the earth today that I hate on the fingers of one hand because although it is a massive cliche I do consider it to be a very strong word. If I hate you that means I would happily kill you if I had a slim chance of getting away with it. If for instance you harmed my beautiful, funny, innocent daughter or the clever, kind and generous lady I go to bed with on a night I would gladly see you in your grave so it kind of takes a lot.

Robbie Williams is an unhappy coincidence of a person that has a massive ego to hide his massive insecurities behind and I can't stand him. He is not the only person of his ilk by a long chalk but for todays purposes we will use him as an example. We aren't all good looking, most of us are ok, some of us are downright ugly. We don't all want to be famous or rich but some of us do and that's cool. Some of us are ugly and stupid. Some of us are ugly and clever. Some of us are ugly, stupid and famous and/or rich to boot! Wow, this is getting really in depth.

Imagine then if you will being gifted good looks, the ambition to become famous and the luck to achieve it. Then imagine being a complete fucking moaning bastard about how badly your life has panned out. Mr Williams does this all the time as far as I can fathom. The man has also spent the best part of 20 years doing the following both as part of a group and by himself:

-Having a lot of money.
-Being able to insert his dingaling in as many young and beautiful girls as are able to take it.
-Travelling the world to entertain hundreds of thousands of said young and beautiful girls.
-Staying in luxurious surroundings, eating great food, driving fast cars and having a massive fuckoff party any damn time he feels the need.

"Oh" you may cry "oh but such superficial things don't bring a person happiness, he is complex, he is in need of more than such a shallow existence, he has addictions, he goes for counselling, he is depressed. What a blinkered snapshot you have chosen to portray of him Mr Mutton".

Fuck all that. Here's an idea: Appreciate what you have for what it is and then build on that. Take a stroll on a winters night to any city centre church and see the poor bastards there freezing and lining up for a bowl of soup and a butty and ask any of those poor cunts about addiction or depression. Go to Peru or Lagos and see the children crawling across a mountain of rubbish for more hours a day than you or I work in order to salvage a few bottles or fill a sack with paper for recycling while getting pricked with hypodermic needles. Tell me how you would feel if you were a street kid in Brazil, sniffing glue out of a bag at 6 years old and risking being murdered by the very authorities that should be protecting you. Whatever you do, don't sit there taking advantage of all the finer things you have access to and then tell me you have anything to moan about that us mere mortals don't because whatever you have lost to fame has been far, far outweighed by the cool shit that you gained from it.

I am a Gary Barlow fan anyhow. He has done it right has the lad. Write the songs, get the royalties, get famous, shag the women, lose the fame, settle down, get married, have kids, have a comeback.

Williams: 0, Barlow: Several Thousand.

Being nice.

2009-12-16T16:16:00.000-08:00

Here's the news: being nice doesn't seem to get anyone anywhere but it's still a worthy pursuit.
Society doesn't care too much about people being nice, we all focus on the negative. You can tell how important being nice really is when people that are in general complete cunts are nice once in a blue moon and for some reason that excuses them from being a twatbag the rest of the time.

Examples include but are not limited to:

Simon Cowell. A man that is such a caricature of nastiness his stage act has consumed him to the extent he no longer knows who he really is inside and probably has no real desire to find out. Simon Cowell wants to drink 2 bottles of red wine, hug a 20-something man for a straight hour and cry his eyes out then come out the other side with a hangover, drained tearducts and a sense of what he has become, throwing his black turtle neck jumper aside and striding down a Los Angeles street towards a gay sauna with a new sense of purpose.

Cowell is the perfect example of the type of person I am trying to llustrate, 95% complete and utter bastard that can get away with making a nice comment 5% of the time and people will say "I like him, see he is not that bad". Yes. Yes he is. He is a square headed cunt.

Gordon Ramsay.
The type of man that would reduce your girlfriend to tears for the sheer pleasure of it if she pulled out on him in a supermarket carpark, years of shouting the odds at teenage commis chefs have instilled in him that rudeness and all round cuntery can be passed off as assertiveness and self belief. Craggy faced, shouty, economically inept bully.

Elton John.
A man who has stolen the historically female concept of the diva and refuses point blank to give it back. Overinflated and egotistical to the point of boredom, lives in a world populated by the sycophantic and the servile. Furnish needs to tie him up, administer a sound beating and an energetic bumming and then look him straight in the eye and say "there are Princess Diana's everywhere Reg, let's start treating people with some damn respect."

A fitting quote to end on, and one from a member of seminal Welsh hip hop crew Goldie Lookin' Chain in reference to Elton John: "It's nice to be important, but it's important to be nice."

Bang on sir.

A women who loves a man who loves to kill women and men.

2009-12-14T13:39:00.001-08:00

I have forgiven the people I love for various transgressions over the years. Nothing too serious and nothing that has affected me too badly on a personal level, but still stuff that would make me think twice about making friends with a stranger or that would make me judge others I am not close to more harshly.

Certain people get a pass by virtue of the fact I have known them a very long time and the old adage "blood is thicker than water" has certainly been applied to my decision making in the past when a family member has acted in a way I deem to be less than satisfactory.

I do tend to over analyse myself and have for as long as I can recall and one thing I have gleaned is that I can be very wary of people that have committed crimes or have been to prison. It is wrong of me, it flies in the face of the concept of rehabilitation and it makes me too judgemental of people that may be fundamentally sound and have just slipped up along the way.

As always though the population of planet Earth is here to help me in my quest to feel normal because when some people throw caution to the wind they do it in such magnificent style it makes my bowels move.

Take for example Doreen Lioy, a freelance magazine editor that married Richard Ramirez in San Quentin prison in 1996. Ramirez AKA The Night Stalker is on death row for brutally murdering 13 people, mostly in their own homes. He raped and sodomised some including children and his methods of killing included execution with a .22 calibre pistol.
Ramirez was a transient with rotten teeth and terrible hygiene and a history of mental problems and Satanic worship but that and his subsequent incarceration has not stopped a long line of ladies forming that want to be in a relationship with him as apparently this behavior has elevated him in status to serial killing sex on legs.
Lioy corresponded with Ramirez for 11 years before they took the plunge, tying the not without traditional gold wedding bands as the groom insisted that "Satanists don't wear gold". What a dreamboat.

Can I just be not the first to say what the fuck were you thinking woman?!!
You mean to assert that you could not go out and meet a nice young man or a succession of nice young men until you found the person you wanted to settle down with? You couldn't maybe lower yourself to join a dating agency or go to a few singles bars? Kiss a number of frogs until you found your prince? "Mom, I have found The One. He is a Mexican serial killer and I don't care what you and Dad say we are in love".

I understand that some woman (and we are talking only about the fairer sex here, the instances of men corresponding with and ultimately marrying female death row inmates are basically non existent as far as me and Google are aware) are attracted to famous or infamous men. I understand some get off on the "danger" but if that fame and that danger are the result of a mans mental illness and subsequent killing and raping spree during which he takes eyeballs as souvenirs and carves pentangles into the thighs of innocent pensioners then even the most needy of people (you would have thought) might take a step back and think "there is something a bit fishy about this dude, sure he works out and does a bit of painting but I don't think he is necessarily marriage material."

What about you? Would you marry an anal rapist murdering psychopath cat burgler? Let me know, operators are standing by.

And also..

2009-12-01T15:19:00.000-08:00

One thing I have been meaning to state is that everything posted here is normally original content with zero research attributed to it. That means if it's good then it's the work of a higher power and me and if it's shit then it's down to just me. It's basically a poor Wikipedia page dealing with a wide variety of subjects and exclusively edited by one man while he listens to bad rap music and thinks about sex too much.

The last thing I was ever aiming for (not that I have ever bothered with any kind of mission statement or even a basic concept of content) was some unoriginal blog that consisted of reposting other peoples hard work, their comedy or thoughts and opinions without (or even with) their permission because that is far, far too easy to do and happens far too much.

My motivation or lack thereof has always been and will always be to have an outlet for my own rantings regardless of people finding it or reading it.

Here is a picture of a small naan that you will note illustrates perfectly the concept of forced perspective.

Other people need to send me shit if only to alleviate my inherant lazyness.

2009-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

My new phone has decided to fly in the face of me recommending it to all and sundry by suddenly being a twat and not letting me email pictures from it.
Plus I am busy and not too motivated this time of year.

Saving me from this, my best friend sent me this pic today and felt I that it needed to be shared.
My man simply strolled into a well known purveyor of baked goods with a £200 note and THE FUCKING MAN decided he should have brought change. It's political correctness gone mad.
Thanks to Ginner.

Dies stellt ein ausgezeichnetes Preis!

2009-11-19T02:41:00.001-08:00

Sometimes life throws up an opportunity that you would be insane to ignore like this one: a metric ton of German fruit bread for £5.00. The crazy fuckers are giving it away.

Jesus noodles FTW

2009-11-19T02:27:00.000-08:00

History has shown us that if a person really wants to believe enough in certain supernatural or unexplainable things they can condition themselves to do so through a process of repetition and self brainwashing. In effect you can lie to your own mind and this will be accepted after a certain amount of time. Now I have to be honest, one of the things that has always weirded me out is the sketchy image of Jesus that supposedly pops up now and again inside a cut tomato or as part of a cloud formation or on someones Marmite on toast or inside a broken dog biscuit. You know the one, the big fella with his long sandy hair and beard, dressed in the traditional robes of his usual depiction, sometimes in prayer and with a halo hovering above his head.

"What are these people on?" I used to think to myself, "Random images of all sorts can be found in the most unlikely of places if you spend enough time looking." But that was then, that was before I had my epiphany. I am no longer an unbeliever. Miracles CAN happen and I have the photographic evidence to prove it. If you look at the picture above at first glance it looks like an ordinary packet of noodles. Well look again my friend. If you concentrate on the centre you can just about make out the features of a bearded man (it took me a while to really see it so be patient). A bearded man that in my humble opinion could well be Jesus himself.

TV rant, part one of at least three. A series spread over a number of nights.

2009-11-18T11:54:00.000-08:00

I came home tonight, had a bit of a cuddle with my daughter while her Mam read her a story and was going to settle in and watch a film or maybe play this flight simulator I have but then decided against it.

The first thing I have actually done is to break out the Mr Muscle (the TV made me buy it) and clean my monitor as last night I was playing said flight simulator and discovered after about half an hour that the distant tank I had been trying to lock onto with my TV guided Maverick missiles was actually a speck of dirt but I suppose that is incidental in the grand scheme of things and not something that is going to encourage people to read this here blog.

Anyway the reason I watch films or boxsets or piss about on my computer is that I reached and breached my tolerance for watching scheduled television some years ago. I literally can't fucking stand it. The main channels, around prime time at least, have degenerated into such utter bollocks that I can't sit and watch for more than a few minutes without loudly and very vocally ripping the programs to pieces. This half baked dissection and sweary vitriol is not, as I am sure you can imagine, conducive to a happy and healthy night on the sofa for my other half and so I choose to spare her by going and doing something less boring instead.

It must just be me. Everybody else seems to get along with TV just fine don't they? Put the kids to bed, pour a glass of wine and then cuddle up watching Eastenders or The Bill, or "Strictly" (oh my how abbreviations like that make me want to commit murder. "Did you watch Strictly?" "Have you heard the new Robbie song?" "Did you see Enders?" feel free to fall on a kitchen knife from a great height all users of the above), it all seems so normal and it happens in most households up and down the country so why must it gall me so?

Let's take soap operas for a starter. Simply written, unforgivably scripted and poorly played out by up and coming actors who can't land a decent gig, shitty actors that are stagnating or established actors that have hit a rough patch on the way down. Designed, yes designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator as a sort of ongoing and dumbed down metaphor for your life that will be there in front of you at the same time and on the same channel for as long as you choose to give them ratings. The people out there that buy a magazine to keep up with plotlines or refer to the characters by name as if they know them or as if they are real need to piss off somewhere far away and have a concerned word with themselves. They could also stick two wet fingers in a plug socket as an alternative.

If you must allow Eastenders or it's ilk into your home then consider the following a damning indictment of your own guilt:

You have helped create the concept of a typecasted acting career unlike any other, the one I like to refer to as "The Adam Woodyatt". Once upon a time there was a "type" of "cast", that is to say that a person in a successful role that he or she played well may then be asked to recreate that role in a similar guise but for a different production. Archetypal hard men, the femme fatale, the comedic foil, some roles just suit some people very well but Ian Beale? The man Adam is actually typecast as the same fucking character in the same program. Forever. He is on the gravy train and he will now never get off. Alec Guinness died a bitter, bitter man because for all his stage and screen greatness, his range and acting prowess he will forever be remembered as Obi Wan Kenobi so imagine the torment you are putting this poor bastard through week in and week out.

It's just horrible, lazy, TV and it needs to be put out of it's misery. The next time someone remarks how amazing it is that these programs are filmed and broadcast within such a strict timeline please remind them of the fact they are written very quickly too and there is a very obvious reason for that which I won't patronise anyone by explaining.
Go on then I will, it's because there are monkeys and there are typewriters but none of the little cunt's have gone near to approaching Shakespeare as yet. Soap operas are the waste, the by-product of that particular experiment.

Reality TV is far worse. Take The X Factor. You are as a nation watching the hopes and dreams of very real people and then hoping upon hope that everything will go wrong for them and you can then somehow feel better about yourself. Go on, admit it. If you wanted to see some young girl that can sing fairly well get a record deal and then be forgotten about a year later you could simply just buy pop records. But you don't want that. You want five young girls or boys or five groups of young girls or boys or any mixture thereof to try really hard at something and go up against each other in order to see some of them cry and then fail. You want to pick your favourite little boy or girl and get right behind them like some crazed football hooligan, abandoning all reason and logic while a pantomime panel of fucking idiots and botox filled industry "experts" chews them up and then spits them out while taking all their money from them and then when the series ends you can forget about it all until next year.

You want to perpetuate the myth that someone appearing on television has somehow "made it", that coming up through the ranks in the traditional manner of writing and gigging, playing the pubs and clubs, being spotted by a talent scout and him/her passing your demo to an A+R can be condensed into some shitty, low rent, zero production value TV program that takes millions in phone vote revenue (even when those lines are closed) and lines the pockets of it's self absorbed, soul sucking, role playing contributors. Congratulations, you paid to kill the music industry while at the same time making it's murderers rich beyond belief.

To be continued...

Wot r we doin to arselves?

2009-11-09T12:40:00.000-08:00

I have briefly touched upon this before but the horrible takeover of the human language that is "textspeak" has in recent weeks begun to get right on my tits. The other day I passed a billboard advertising the chocolate foodstuff that is "Kitkat Chunky". The sole content of the advertisement was a picture of said product and underneath it was the legend "OMG, MY CHUNKY JUST GOT FUNKY :-)".

Now I am not for one moment suggesting that some ad agency mong on far too much money pitched it in this way (well OK I totally am) but it seems fairly obvious that the decision to go ahead with this campaign rested on the following logic:

"Everyone these days communicates via some horribly truncated and emoticon riddled SMS language, not just the young people or the stupid or those that can't spell, everyone. We are appealing to them all with this simple advert, dumbing it down for the Proles and the kids but the normals won't take offence either." Well I fucking well do ladies and gentlemen. I very much do.

There are a number of different theory's in my own head how this has been allowed to happen and not being the most educated man on Gods green earth I can only suppose which one is the truth. My gut instinct would tell me that with the advent of mobile phones that were SMS enabled came people that owned them for reasons of status and the prohibitive cost and limited character usage meant that it occurred to these people to shorten the language they used in order to be frugal. Later when cost was no longer an issue but the character constraints remained the same people still wanted the most bang for their buck and so the shortening of words and omission of vowels etc continued.

Now the point is not that I have a problem with abbreviation per say, it's the fact this has carried over into everyday usage that gets to me. Reading the average internet post these days is like trying to decipher some kind of Enigma machine transmission and let me tell you right now that I am no Alan Turing (sexual preference and long distance running skills aside obviously). I honestly spend more time trying to work out what is being said than the person writing for the sake of brevity spent composing it so for those of us not fluent surely this renders the entire operation redundant? Lest we forget, the internet, in terms of price per letter at least, is charged at a flat rate. There are no excuses when you have a keyboard at your fingertips and your broadband is paid up for the month.

Facebook, always an easy to aim for target especially when you are as lazy and/or drunk as I am, is a prime example; grown ups having tit for tat, back and forth discussions concerning how much cock they like or how bored they may be when the school holidays descend and the kids are at home or when they find some puerile internet video amusing (don't get me started on Youtube, I have an entire night put aside for a rant about that shit) have become a struggle for me to interpret. Fuck me it's torture. Let's take a little stroll down idiot lane and have a more in depth look:

yu
wot
guna
uv
ure
gota
dun

And my personal favourite:

Ov

The kicker is that when the majority of these "words" are used it's with the omission of just one letter and in a few cases no abbreviation is used at all. "ov" is composed of the same amount of letters and takes exactly the same amount of time to type as "of" yet it seems that in it's original form it just wasn't good enough to stay as it was for fear of rocking the textspeak boat.

Why not just do it right to begin with? What do you stand to lose by typing every word that you learned at school and probably still know how to spell properly, properly?

Some cunt I encountered in a pub a while ago when presented with a friends funny comment actually responded with a "LOL" out loud. Now that might seem to you to be a mistake on my part but he did say it. Out of his stupid mouth and very much out loud the word "LOL" came as spelt. He said "LOL" and nobody in his immediate presence batted an eyelid.

Personally my grammar is less than perfect, punctuation escapes me at times and my spelling does need help on occasion and that's fine. I would never for instance take the piss out of dyslexia or it's sufferers. Bad spelling is cool with me as are genuine mistakes but to be clear and honest if you go out of your way to converse in this manner when you could easily do otherwise you are an imbecile and a contributor to your present/future children's downfall.

Orwell's fictionalised version of the future in 1984 was based on the premise that if you limit language and the peoples ability to learn and convey it then you can also throttle their thought processes. Language and conversation first and foremost are concepts based on learning and thought.

Please please don't make the above a reality because of your lazyness when you already have the basic tools of your education on hand to prevent it .
LOL.

It ain't safe no more

2009-11-04T15:09:00.000-08:00

This little gangsta is here to pass on a message: I have a phone with decent internet and usable camera at last and so will be taking pictures of various objects and then commenting on them in a sarcastic manner as in the past. After this pic was taken he sidled up to me, raised his mask and whispered in my ear "Don't say my car's topless, say its titties is out" to which, frankly, I had no comeback.

It is with great regret....

2009-11-04T06:17:00.000-08:00

....that I have an announcement to make.

I have closed this blog down at the request of the good folk at blogger and if you are reading this then you are far in the future and have recovered the data from their servers. Wow. What's it like in the future guys? Do cars fly? Does every house have a massive awkward robot fridge that brings you chilled food and drinks on demand? Does all fashion now consist of Silver hot pants and see through plastic visors? It must be great.

Anyway the point is it all just got too big. So much traffic was flowing through here that the google ad revenue alone was enough to enable me to buy new shoes and blogger had to lay on more and more bandwidth just to cope with daily visits. Eventually internet notoriety gave way to outright celebrity and so many awesome people came to read that they (blogger) had to buy a new server room just to keep up.

It was a mad time. Punks, skins and rastas. People of all colours, shapes and smells coming together, united by their common interest in the rhetorical rantings of a sweary idiot. Imagine a lot less gay and slightly better looking Perez Hilton then take that thought and imagine me saying that the person you are thinking of was me. That was me. Me.

The adoration and attention was something I was not used to, digital stalkers sending me pictures of their genitals, marriage proposals. And the begging letters? Fuck me they were harsh. I stopped even opening them after a bit.

Anyway I broke the internets and started a new religion without even trying and so The Man shut me down. It's incredible that so many thousands could be deprived of their monthly read so cruelly and so easily but in the end you can't fight the system and win. It was politics and I was getting too much influence and now I am just a nobody again.

Seriously though, to the few that do, thanks for reading x

An obvious post but one I feel needs to be made.

2009-10-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

With all the furore surrounding Nick Griffins Question Time appearance and after reading/ watching a fair bit about him and Mark Collett (former head of the youth arm of the BNP and one of Griffins co accused when he went to court for incitement of racial hatred) I have a renewed sense of disgust and simply need to vent it here.

The issue of race and multiculturalism is very close to my heart. I have always been brought up to be tolerant of other races and cultures and this is due in no small part to my mothers sister marrying a Muslim and converting to the faith when I was a small child. My Aunt chose a hard path to tread and has suffered for it at the hands of both her White peers and the Asian family she married into simply for falling in love but she has weathered the storm of hostility and intolerance in order to make a life and raise a family. My two cousins are both half Asian and half White and they too have had to put up with racism and bigotry from both camps.
Basically it's not a barrel of laughs when you are neither one nor the other.

Both cousins are married, one to a Hindu lady (which has caused it's own problems with our Muslim relatives) and one to a White man with whom she has had a little boy and who's parents are the most hateful bunch of single minded bigots alive, to the point he has cut ties in order, again, to make a life and a family.

In short, the word "integrated" should have been coined for that branch of my family. As I get older and do grown up things such as having children I am finding that we have more and more in common and I have more of an opportunity to spend time with all of them. The recent occasions, get togethers, birthday parties and weddings I have attended have opened my eyes to just how easy it is for a bunch of people from all walks of life and cultures to simply get along fine. Spend time together. Have a chat. Have a drink. Eat some nice food. Watch the kids play together.

I suppose my simple question and one that I would like to direct at the BNP and it's voters is this: What on earth is wrong with that?

What?

Based on the true policies of the BNP as opposed to the hastily polished up and evasive "public" ones, you clowns would not allow my cousin to meet, fall in love, marry and have a child with the really nice lad she chose. You are against all these beautiful things, against people actually being happy and not being filled with spite and hate. "Oh Racial purity, racial purity" you shout. Well how about this: fuck your racial purity. Fuck the idealistic premise that some people only have one type of DNA in their makeup and some are "mixed". Are you out of your minds? How far do we have to go back before the race of man is undiluted?

My ancestors were Normans ie they came over from Normandy which is in France. Does that make me French? If you didn't know me and I told you this would you shy away from me in the pub? Perhaps you would be scared of being tainted by my stale garlic breath or offended by my proclivity for wearing stripy jumpers and berets at a jaunty angle? Perhaps you would keep your sister or daughter away from me lest she be influenced by my Norman-ness and develop an attraction towards thin moustaches or refuse your roast dinner in favour of some garlic buttered snails and frogs legs? Maybe you would awaken in the wee small hours, sitting bolt upright in bed and screaming, your partner expressing concern for your sweating brow as you explain "IT WAS SO REAL, OH MY GOD OUR MARIE MARRIED THAT IMMIGRANT, THE ONE WITH ALL THE ONIONS AND THE BIKE"

Sound silly? That is precisely the level of strange prejudice and messed up logic you are demonstrating now when you judge and create hatred where there is none and it can be applied to any race, culture or creed. You hurt people and want to mess with their lives to satisfy your inner lack of belief in yourselves. You need to feel like you are part of something in order to feel validated, if you spend your time agreeing with others and focusing your rage you won't then dwell on your own insecurities. It's the easiest thing on the world to pick on others and much, much harder to analyse your own shortcomings. Basically you are forever trapped in the playground and you will never grow up.

If your racial identity is so strong then get on with it, balls to everyone else. Be the best you can be. Marry who the hell you want and have kids that are whatever colour you choose but don't for one moment pretend to yourself that you have the right to dictate to anyone else, much less entire races of people what they can do or who they can shag or what they can eat or what clothes they can wear.

You are all bellends anyway, none of you can stick to your beliefs for more than two seconds without feeling guilty or tripping over your own ill thought out logic "Oh Halle Berry is fit", "Oh my colleague/my neighbour/that shopkeeper/so and so's brother is sound for a Black/Paki/Gay/Polish, it's the rest of them I have a problem with, coming over here and taking all our jobs and women and eating all that strange food."

Put simply, there is no hate but that which you create. Hate is not a form of energy that needs to be transferred, it is a ghost until you give it a form and a purpose. Without hate and without you we all get along fine so if anyone should "fuck off back" it is you. Do a bit of research. Trace your families history and it's lineage. Find out where you come from and go back there because we do not want your kind here.

Thank God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.

2009-10-14T02:16:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the cameraphone in pitch dark style quality.

The bin men in Leeds were told that they would have to start doing more work for less dinero so they have basically just fucked the whole bin emptying thing off and gone home for six weeks. The result where I live has been a kind of migration to a more inner city New York lifestyle. Stinking bin bags are piled everywhere, you can't move for rotting food waste and tea bags and the rats and foxes are having a great old time of it. Feral children sneak about when the sun goes down trying not to be seen as they dump their parents rubbish in someone else's bin and the city has taken on an air of misery and despair.

It's getting so bad that on the way home last night drunk I had a bit of a moment. I was looking up the road at the piles of rubbish and the streetlights reflecting off the damp tarmac and I suddenly 100% expected to turn a corner and find myself in an alley with a counterweighted fire escape at one end and the rear entrance to a Chinese restaurant at the other. I daydreamed that a man was stood there in a filthy apron smoking a cigarette and when he caught sight of me he raised the meat cleaver he held in a half greeting, half attempt at intimidation. I turned and walked back the way I came as tendrils of steam rose up from the holes in a man hole cover and curled around my ankles. The urge to rock a pair of Vandals and steal a vagrants trousers overtook me then and suddenly I snapped back to reality and felt a bit silly so I went home.

In Unifom: Update

2009-10-06T12:49:00.001-07:00

I know for a fact that when I posted the "Tight-Sag" pic a little voice in my head was triggered and it said "Right, that's it now. At no point in the future is a garment going to come along that is more extreme or overtly ridiculous than this one. This is the pinnacle."

Well thanks to the internet legend that is @shifty_dave for not giving up and going out there to find one. Not more needs to be said aside from the fact these Bastard magnets cost £215.00 a pop.

Follow Dave on Twitter, especially if you have large boobs.

Winding up Nigerian internet scammers feasting on the corpse of The King of Pop.

2009-09-29T03:56:00.000-07:00

Winding up celebrity Nigerian internet scammers.

2009-09-28T06:53:00.000-07:00

Falling out of love with the politics of friendship part 1.

2009-09-21T04:50:00.000-07:00

The following post is devoid of humour and for that I apologise an advance.

Social politics are really beginning to get on my tits at the moment, chiefly the mistaken belief held by many that just because they get on with and have respect for a person it so follows that everyone else should too.

I am of the firm belief that you just can't get along with everybody, and what's more it is fine to not even try beyond a certain point.

Everyone I am introduced to will have a different perspective, different moral values and a completely different first impression of me than the previous person that met me. Someone you really like and get on with may annoy the living shit out of me from day one. Factors such as the type of mood we were both in at the time may come into play or we simply may be too similar or too dissimilar for a friendship to develop. Does it make me or them a bad person? Not at all and it doesn't mean I have a problem with you being friends, it doesn't mean I am ever going to be annoyed with you for interacting or socialising with them, it just means I may choose not to. I personally don't like to spend time around people that annoy me, or hold radically different beliefs or opinions that offend me, or who have I zero in common with and neither should they. That's all there is to it.

The reverse is also true and just as annoying ie. when somebody has fallen out with a person or just plain can't stand them to begin with, why am I suddenly expected to fall in line and start dissing them too? I am not a fucking baby, I don't walk around being led by the nose, I form an opinion of someone and then stick to it until they give me a reason to rethink.

I have actually more than once had people stop talking to me because they have fallen out with someone I still get along with, for reasons that are fuck all to do with me in any way shape or form. I know peoples ego's can get bruised and they may be under the impression that I have taken a side but the truth is I have done the opposite. If I am not willing to fall out with someone on your say so then take it as a given that I would never disrespect you or take sides against you either.

The day a person wakes up to the fact that these expectations are unrealistic, and there is no shame in that is a happy one indeed.

In Uniform.

2009-09-16T03:41:00.001-07:00

Recently published research by top fashion scientists has revealed that by the year 2030 everybody on the earth without exception will be dressed like a cunt.

Venture out onto the city streets and you will encounter young men roaming in packs that have adopted current fashion trends without any thought and who are mindless to the consequences of such sartorial sheepishness. This is known as being In Uniform.
Here are some of my current favourites:

The Tight-Sag aka the Vampire Bat Pant.

A trouser that is cut for the maximum embarrassment of the wearer, impeding movement and preventing such actions as running for a bus, climbing over a small fence or being able to get change out of your pockets. A kind of cut and shut garment taking the worst elements of the skinny jean and the baggy pant and combining them for no discernable advantage whatsoever. Worn mainly by fashionable young Asian men with elaborate artistically styled facial hair that smell nice.

The Slouch or Oversize Beanie aka The Admiral Akbar or Trevor Nelson aka The Craig Duffy.

This must have headwear style for the discerning man In Uniform has been around for a while now and is still going strong. Basically an oversized beanie made to accommodate the jutting bean head of a modern day John Merrick but worn on purpose by men with average shaped craniums for a sort of baggy condom effect.

Has started to filter down to the poorer areas and is now replacing the Dappy Hat as de rigueur for those youths with a liking for Mayfair cigarettes and casual violence. Worn by the annoying fucker in front of you in the queue at the supermarket with the semi attractive girlfriend and one of those ghastly All Saints "Jesus Loves You" belts. You know, the one that you can just about restrain yourself from living out the fantasy of trying to force an unopened can of beans into his mouth and down his gullet, smashing his teeth to splinters on the way past because he looks like that much of a cunt.

The Peruvian Hat aka The Dappy Hat.

Named for scholar, philanthropist and poet Dappy from off of N-Dubz, this item is slowly being fazed out by it's usual sporters (lowlife, no hope, tracksuit wearing scum) as even they have realised that far from creating a strong look, this style of hat magically turns anyone that wears it into a complete cunt. In an unusual move borne of common sense they have spotted it's adoption as a huge mistake and would rather the whole thing was forgotten about so they can go back to wearing caps perched really far back on their peanut like heads.

The Plimsoll aka a complete reversal of everything this great country once stood for.

Saving the best till last, the current choice of footwear for 99% of males in Great Britain between the ages of 17 and 30 is also the cheapest, wears out the quickest, stinks the most, is the hardest to keep clean and happens to be the most generic, boring shoe invented by anyone anywhere ever.

There was a time in the hierarchy of teen fashion that the Plimsoll or Pump occupied the lowest spot on the table, representative of trampy, poor families who couldn't afford proper trainers and forced upon everybody else during Physical Education classes as mandatory athletic footwear. The point was to have a generic, cheap and disposable gym shoe that everyone could afford and wear as part of a uniform. Everybody hated them and the thought of being so uncool that you would be forced to wear them as your everyday trainers was beyond comprehension.

Let's all give a great big well done and a pat on the back for todays young fashionistas for adopting the shoe that represents the least amount of imagination ever devoted to a design, buying them in fucking droves and then all going to the pub together looking exactly the same. Worn by pretty much anyone and everyone with no clue, if you have owned a pair in the last two years then you are a waste of easily led spunk.

The internet: how far is too far?

2009-09-15T05:08:00.000-07:00

Hiya.
It's been a long time as I have not been arsed.

I could, if I tried, be a lot more on it with this blogging lark.
What I really need to do is link my Facebook to my Twitter to my blog, do another blog for serious stuff and keep this one for pissing about, get a phone with a decent camera to take more pics to post up, start reading a thousand and one other blogs and websites in order to cut and paste every banal titbit of "interesting news" that is posted on them then disappear up my own arse a bit more and spend my entire life sat at a computer on the internet or looking at my smartphone twittering my life away instead of actually living it. "Promote yourself even though you have nothing to promote, raise your profile so more people are aware of you" seems to be a lot of folk's remit but for what?

It's all a bit much isn't it and before you take this as being snobbish please understand I am fully aware that I am as guilty as anyone else. I get sucked in by every trend that you get sucked in by, I just don't take it as far as some.

For example, go on a random Facebook page and check out a typical night on the tiles. What used to be a normal weekday night at the pub with some mates has now evolved into some monstrous special occasion that needs to be documented at every stage by at least half the people there lest it be forgotten forever. People need to know what you did and where you went and what you drank and who you kissed and how shit you were at dancing and which sweaty, pseudo-mid orgasm face you tend to pull when you have had a few and someone fires a flash into your retinas. I swear these fuckers spend more time taking pictures of each other than they do drinking, talking or dancing and every photo taken is uploaded, captioned and tagged within four minutes of the party animal/biographer getting through their front door.

Do we want to see pictures of you getting ready to go out? No.
Do we want to see pictures of you in the pub toilets post piss? No.
Do we want to see pictures of you at the bar getting served? No.

We should all try and have an old school night out once in a while where nobody is allowed a digital camera or mobile/internet enabled cameraphone and you are only allowed to arrange a time and a place to meet up either face to face or using a land line (how in the name of sweet fuckery did we ever manage that one?).

If during said traditional night you have such a great time that you genuinely need people to be aware of the fact, you have to go to a payphone and call everyone you vaguely know then describe to them one by one, using the same short sentence, exactly what you are doing and why you felt the need to tell them. Does that feel silly and pointless? Well that is what you are taking time out to do every time you go out now motherfuckers! The fact it has been made easier doesn't make it any less sad.

Maybe with the pressure to perform no longer present we could all relax and have a really nice night out.

Getting serious for a second.

2009-07-15T06:55:00.000-07:00

Am going to start to actually update this blog with "proper" posts instead of just treating it as an afterthought. I am going to share design work and other stuff I dabble in in an amateurish and hamfisted manner. Ooooh I'm so deep and complex.

This is a sticker I designed for a friend who owns Ryouki, a sneaker boutique in the heart of sunny Oxford. Great bloke, great store, great service. Enough said.

Nick Griffin is a one eyed holocaust denying bigoted fuckwit.

2009-06-09T12:09:00.000-07:00

I have a few points as always.

-The BNP supports the practice of Eugenics, which among other things involves the compulsory sterilisation of the mentally handicapped, the disabled, people with learning difficulties, people with genetically inherent diseases, the poor and people with low IQ's. This actually caught on in Britain in the early 20th century until someone with half a brain stopped it in it's tracks, was a very real occurrence in Germany during the reign of the Third Reich (except those silly fuckers decided that extermination instead of sterilisation was the more sensible option) and was still happening in the USA as recently as the 1970's.

-This policy does not exclude White people.

-Although not born with his disability, Nick Griffin is very definitely disabled due to losing his eye in an accident. Because this could not be passed on genetically to his children he would be excluded but the fact remains that he and his party would be discriminating against less than perfect people which they themselves are. It's a bit like Hitler being racially impure and only having one bollock.

To summarise, if you are White and affected by any of these issues and stupid enough to vote for the BNP then look forward to you or someone close to you having the snip (and not having a say in it) by order of someone who knows he isn't perfect but thinks it's ok to tell you that you are not.

Chant this mantra drunken purchaser of condoms.

2009-06-02T01:14:00.001-07:00

I would like to know how a devotee of Krishna found himself in the mens toilets of a Northern city centre pub in the first place. It would I imagine be a pretty boring night out with a bunch of these fellows. No intoxicants, just soft drinks and a bit of chanting. Perhaps sticker up a few motorway bridges and then home to bed. Gouranga.

Blue Whale Sperm? Diesel? Parrot Feathers?

2009-06-02T01:12:00.001-07:00

Any filling? Any filling at all for my potates?

Tribute to a fallen soldier.

2009-05-28T09:16:00.001-07:00

No. Wrong.

2009-05-09T07:09:00.001-07:00

I have to start my apologising for the quality of the pic, it was taken on the fly for fear of being caught in the act by fucking Barbie. "Quick Ken, someone is mocking my fanny hued shitemobile, come and beat him with your plastic fists!"

The subject is a small Pink car that has a sticker in the back window stating that it is "Powered by Fairydust". And what the fuck is going on with that font?
Your car is powered by the internal combustion of refined fossil fuels you fucking attention whore, just like everybody else's.

I know there are all types of lady in this world, some more "girly" than others but who could honestly see themselves with the owner of this contraption? It screams "Look at me, I am unconcerned with anything other than how much of a silly lickle cutesy I am! Look at me!"

I pity the poor fucker that has to share his bedroom with this vapid bimbo's soft toy collection.

Max Clifford is a parasitic gravy skinned cunt.

2009-04-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing more to add at present.

Oh hai guys.

2009-04-17T03:52:00.001-07:00

Today I found the gayest hex bit screwdriver in the world. Is this an attempt to get women into D.I.Y.? Would it make a difference to anyone, male or female if their hex bit screwdriver was more visually appealing because it had added flora when compared to a plainer model? I find this strange. Strange and also a bit shit.

Facebook Groups: Always a good and productive idea.

2009-04-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

You have to love some of the groups people invite you to on Facebook.
Completely pointless causes, mindless kneejerk Sun reader vigilantism and stupid in-jokes that don't translate at all outside of the creators close circle of friends seems to be the order of the day and when exposed to enough of it I reach the conclusion that I despise every single thing that 99% of the population stands for and mindlessly believe in.

"1 MILLION MEMBERS TO END CHILD ABUSE/A MILLION TO CHOP IAN HUNTLEYS BOLLOCKS OFF AND THEM JAMIE BULGER KILLERS TOO".
As if they could have 999999 members and be sat there going "nearly there lads, I can't wait for this, it's going to be great. Child abuse will be a thing of the past in a few minutes time and that Huntley, his balls are coming flying right off because of the power of the internet. Sorted overnight and it's all down to us" Oh do fuck off.

"WE WILL NEVER FORGET THE INSPIRATION THAT WAS YOU, JADE GOODY".
I will never be able or be allowed to forget that this ever fucking happened so will you all just shut the fuck up about it now please. It's Princess Diana all over again. Inspiration to do what exactly? Make a load of money for doing fuck all and then let parasites in the media feed off you until you die? Brilliant role model. The most educational and inspirational thing the woman did was get cancer. It's not an achievement she meant to happen you fucking morons, she didn't exactly ask for it or enjoy it did she? Good, clever, inspirational, hard working, talented, kind hearted mothers and fathers with achievements of note die horribly every single day and none of you cunts bat an eyelid.

"SCARY MUSLIMS GO HOME/SUPPORT OUR BRAVE BOYS/ENGLAND FOR THE ENGLISH"

A few points:

-Not one of you is any more "English" than the other. We are all mongrels, a mixture of several different races and origins. Every single one of us.

-Just because you are against fighting bullshit wars for oil and the security of global corporations and military contractors doesn't mean that you don't like soldiers. It just means you aren't daft enough to join up and do it.

-There are more lazy fat White people on benefits and in prison in the UK than any other race and I guarantee every one of you racist motherfuckers associate with at least one of them. Get off your high horse.

Some groups are good for raising awareness, others illustrate and benefit charities and other worthy causes and I am all for them. It's the entire "Wot wud u do to a rapist if u woz in the same room as them lol" brigade that grind my gears.

These guys seem legit.

2009-04-06T11:46:00.001-07:00

Tall Ginger man seeks employment, very loyal.

2009-03-31T08:29:00.000-07:00

Never seen Chewie in a casual suit before have you motherfuckers!!!?
That's because he hasn't been to a job interview in 32 YEARS. The galaxy wide economic downturn has forced the Millennium Falcon to sit idle as Han can't afford to put fuel in her and has taken to pimping himself out to some anorexic lawyer bint, Kathy Beale or something. Chewie has been left to fend for himself and so he has been making bi weekly visits to the job centre, doing a bit of agency work and cash in hand on the side and is doing his best to keep his head up. You keep on keeping on Chewie you big brave bastard.

Cameo opens bike shop on Kirkstall Road.

2009-03-24T05:34:00.003-07:00

The best night evah?

2009-03-17T02:11:00.001-07:00

Now if you get in before 11:30pm I make that £1 per talentless cunt. Epic value.

OOGACHAKAOOGAOOGA OOGACHAKAOOGAOOGA.

2009-03-04T10:58:00.001-08:00

Today a two and a half year old scared the living shit out of me.

This motherfucker stopped me from having sex with a girl.

2009-02-14T12:35:00.001-08:00

The other day my other half let it slip that last valentines day she had arranged a naughty surprise for me. My mother in law was babysitting while we went for a meal and since my lady knows me for the international playboy and all round high flyer that I am she also knew that I have the keys to property other than our house where we could GET IT ON undisturbed.

We went to a public house after our meal and this bald man was playing hits on his keyboard that we sung along to whilst knocking back shots. Then we got a telephone call from another couple that were in the area asking to join us for a few drinks which we gladly committed to. We then proceeded to get bastard drunk and went home very merry, me completely oblivious to the fact my lady had decided that drinking heavily whilst singing Brown Eyed Girl and then cackling the night away with our friends should replace a night of saucy fun.

I hate you you shiny headed entertaining bastard.

Winding up lovely Nigerian internet fraudsters part one.

2009-02-05T03:17:00.000-08:00

Someone sent me this today and it has all the hallmarks of a good giggle. It could be start of something magical. I will keep you posted.

Down with the kids.

2009-01-21T09:40:00.001-08:00

People who know me know that I am fully au fait with all types of cool and hip music. Put simply I am known around town for my unfailing ability to discover the next big thing, it's like a sixth sense I have. The Sabri Brothers will be blowing your tits off at a local venue this time next year mark my words. All you Shoreditch wannabes can step off, there is a new sheriff in town and it ain't Reggie Hammond.

Thiefing Fat Cunt. Or something.

2008-12-11T01:24:00.001-08:00

See now my appraisal of went down here is that the maker of this sign (lets call them Person A) encountered a motor vehicle owned by someone (Person B) that may or may not have committed an act of theft and was willing to let Person B know that that shit was not cool by obtaining the use of some cardboard and a marker and making a passive/aggressive statement. I reckon that the simple act of throwing the result onto the ground and then going about his/her merry business makes Person B the clear winner in this scenario.

Christmas has officially begun.

2008-11-26T10:59:00.001-08:00

Me and the bread knife took our little one to see the turning on of the Christmas lights in our town today. This is and was notable for it's special celebrity guest who was introduced with the following sentence (I shit you not):

"Ok! Do any of you watch a program on television called Coronation Street? Do you know who Fizz is? Well she has had a lot of trouble with boyfriends in the past, what with going out with Kirk and all."

At this point the crowd buzzed in anticipation of sharing oxygen with a bona fide soap star. Could it really be that a fat ginger lass from a shite soap opera was actually lowering herself to appear in our little borough on the outskirts of Leeds? Not exactly.

"Here tonight to turn on our lights is Fizz off Corries present love interest!!! Please go wild for this fella here!" (or words to that effect). Not a fucking clue. The fireworks were great though.

Bling bling.

2008-11-19T04:10:00.001-08:00

If you were ever curious as to what an idiot wearing a £1500 coat might look like then wonder no more.

It's been too long/Dear me.

2008-11-08T08:31:00.001-08:00

My neighbour has a massively skewed opinion of his own social status. He has built a wooden enclosed, tiny gravel driveway to house his Audi A4 convertible and there is a sign above the entrance proclaiming to all that he does not live in a terraced house like the rest of us mere mortals on the street, but in a "Villa". Christ, mine is the only house with a garage but you don't here me shouting about it. What a cock. Where was I? Oh, yes and when the council put the above notice (you will notice that it is definitely a notice) on the side of his house, he actually went and had that number plate printed up to stick under it. Just in case. This country.

Testing my new phone/look a rainbow.

2008-09-12T07:47:00.001-07:00

Told you there would be sunshine and singing. I am singing right now as it goes. And testing Blogger on my new phone. I will try and take edgy, spur of the moment snaps and blog on the move as much as I can be arsed before the novelty wears off. Lets see where it takes us kids.

Writing a speech and the quacking of arses

2008-08-27T01:41:00.001-07:00

Ok it's been a while. I have not really been in the mood and I still don't really think I am. I write here and a few other places, here because it's therapeutic for me to write certain thoughts down.

Not a lot has happened apart from my best friend got married on the 8th of this month, I was Best Man and I felt dead important for a whole day. I am not a nervous person by any means but for some reason the concept of delivering a speech made me shit myself for a good week leading up to the big day.

I had no real trouble writing it and my girlfriend made me read it to her and said she thought it was good but the prospect of delivering the fucker to a room full of people filled me with fear. On the night before the wedding I woke up feeling nervous and sick to my stomach, to the point where I thought I would actually vomit. It was a strange and unusual experience.

When we got to the hotel where the ceremony was taking place I felt better but had to force myself to not get massively pissed (which would ordinarily have been my first course of action at weddings in general and any situation that made me nervous). I stuck to two pints over a few hours and then when we sat down at the head table I had a few cheeky sips from a hip flask I had borrowed.

From then on a strange sense of calm washed over me and all nerves went away. I stood up when I was introduced and gave what I consider a strong and confident performance which was punctuated by laughter from the crowd and garnered spontaneous applause at the end. I have never felt so relieved in my entire life. I had people coming up to me all day telling me they thought I had done a good job and I can't put into words how good that made me feel after stressing for so long.

It was a great day and it filled me with warmth to see my best friend so happy and emotional.
He's on his honeymoon now in Kefalonia, the lucky cunt.

I would be a Best Man again in a heartbeat.

Thirst.

2008-08-26T11:10:00.000-07:00

When I think of all the water wasted, taps I left to run, the washing out of glasses thrice when one time would have done.

The water fights in days of old I used pint after pint, the times in summer showering cold against the muggy night.

If neighbours trying to keep up must wash a car too much, then I can see the water run and I might shrug and such.

All the ways in which I sat and let it run away, not bothering to think that I may need it back one day.

If you could see me thirsty now, in need of just a drink, you may too have your regrets and you might stop and think.

If I had saved that which I spilt, regret would not exist, and my dry bones would live once more, cracked lips with moisture kissed.

It's too late now for me to live, I've gone a drip too far, I'm weak and thirsty, dry and spent, and asking for my ma.

The moral of my tale is this: look forth to looking back. For one day too you may be in the Red and not the Black.

Live your life as is your want, enjoy but do be nice, try save a little here and there, as squander is a vice.

Do all this as best you can, but hear a wise man say, never pity anyone, it comes to you one day.

The above is my first clumsy attempt at poetry. I wrote it while my other half was on the bog so it didn't take that long. Simplistic rhyming scheme aside I think it's ok, but then I have literally no fucking idea.

The internet and ones frustration when deprived.

2008-06-02T13:02:00.000-07:00

My internet connection went down over the weekend and I was suddenly reminded of a time when I used to actually interact with people in real life AND watch television on the regular. Panic and fear set in and as I became aware of the fact I may have important unread emails and Facebook messages, my already unreliable heart missed a beat and my constantly clammy hands became that much clammier. In the day or so that it took the nice engineer to fix the problem I did not fully settle and was beset with unease and so I must ask myself "why?"

After about 45 seconds deliberation these are the conclusions reached:

-I am not a fan of telephones. I do not like talking on them or texting. I hardly ever put credit in my mobile and I do not posses a land line. This is due to the fact although I am labeled as ignorant I prefer to type instead of text and when I type I prefer to do it on a full sized keyboard using real language instead of typing an abbreviated mess with one fat thumb (have fatter thumbs than anyone you are ever likely to encounter but on the plus side, the ladies love them). I find "textspeak" in all it's Orwellian glory to be an abomination, robbing normal people of their ability to converse and limiting the options of inflection and conveyance.

-When I am at home and I want to vegetate, I would prefer it to be completely on my terms. With the internet I am able to pick and choose when and how I am entertained and in whatever format I choose. The option to educate myself is there at any moment, as is the option to watch a video where one semi-attractive lady might kiss another one and beyond. I can stimulate my mind and memory with a plethora of information or watch Kimbo beat the living shit out of an ill-prepared and latterly apologetic young man.

-I can choose the type of music I want to listen to/download and any accompanying video I may choose to watch as if by magic.

-I do not have nor can I afford SKY+

Thank you internets.

P.S. also a big shout out to the engineer squatting at the side of the road on Saturday morning for fixing the fault that affected LS28 even though my girlfriend (oh hell yes I do have one) wouldn't let me stop and offer you a bacon butty from the cafe over the road. Thinking on, said cafe does do a nice line in West Indian cooking, curry goat/jerk chicken/roti etc. Although that's probably by the by.

I have a stalker.

2008-05-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

To set the scene, I walk to the bus stop after work every day along a straight road and there is a fellow that is always waiting for the same bus as me. I can see him from a fair distance away and he is always facing away from me anticipating the arrival of our bus. That is until he senses someone walking towards him at which point he turns, and upon spotting me spends the next ten or so minutes devouring me with his eyes until the bus arrives. He is in his late forties, around five foot ten or eleven, of large build with a beer belly, shorn Grey hair and a close cropped beard with both ears pierced.

When he gets on the bus he always sits in one of the side facing seats and stares at me until we get off (at the same stop) in town. We both then walk the same route to our respective buses out of the city centre. This has been going on for a long time now and is beginning to unnerve me somewhat. I have on a few occasions held his gaze and fired a dirty look at him but he seems unfazed (I am not a small bloke).

If at some point this man sticks a knife in me or tries to put his willy in me I will at least know that I have left behind enough clues for someone to catch him, however I may be penetrated. I plan to have a word in his shell-like very soon although I am ashamed to admit that while the prospect does not bother me, I feel I may be overreacting. I think he may be one of those gay bear blokes I have heard about and the fact that I am of a similar height and build with a shaved head and sometimes sport a close cropped beard leads me to the conclusion that he thinks we can smell our own.

For the record, I am a heterosexual man with a lovely girlfriend and a smasher of a daughter and I have no hang ups about gay people. In fact some of my sister's best friends are gay. Gay people impress me with their flamboyancy and sexual promiscuity and I think they have been dealt a pretty good hand when it comes to both.
Being made to feel like a piece of meat though, is a new experience.

Poetry? Poetry.

2008-04-30T11:55:00.000-07:00

I have never been one for art or poetry although I do love literature. Sometimes I think I may not have too much of a soul. Or maybe not as much of one as I would like in comparison to the people I have met that are passionate about such things. I may suffer from soul envy.
Anyhow I think the following is the best piece of poetry I have ever read that is not contained within the lyrics of a rap song.

"In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting on the ground,
Held his heart in his hands
And ate of it.
I said, 'is it good, friend?'
'It is bitter, bitter,' he answered.
'But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.'"
-Stephen Crane
-Black Riders III

Quoted in the book Bad City Blues by Tim Willocks, a British ex-psychiatrist and surgeon turned amazing writer. I have only previously read Green River Rising and I am currently reading Bad City Blues (I seriously think it may just be the best novel I have ever read) and I implore anyone with a love of noir fiction to read anything the man has written. The poems author Stephen Crane was an American writer celebrated for his books and journalism but his poetry was criticized and met with bad reviews. He died in Germany at the age of 28. Shame that.

That is all.

Fame and the hunger of celebrity cunts.

2008-04-19T13:10:00.000-07:00

I absolutely love reading tabloid newspapers, gossip magazines and any other documentation of vapid, fame hungry celebrities just so I can slag off the terrible journalism contained within and go on my merry way feeling a little superior to the people that contribute and the retards that spend their hard earned on such utter fucking tripe.

If I see a copy of The Sun abandoned on a bus seat or a two month old copy of Heat in my Doctors waiting room I have to pick up and read just to satisfy myself that the world is ticking along as before and that people are still being paid vast amounts of money to publish complete untruths, inconsequential drivel and the minutiae of the worlds "celebrity" existence.

My Good God but how far we have fallen insofar as the things that entertain us. Two words you may be familiar with if you are alive, live in the UK and are in possession of arms and a head are "Kerry" and "Katona". This idiot was in a girl group but left before they attained any fame, married a bloke from a boy band and, well, that's about it. She is richer than you or I because we live in a society that allows people to become famous for being famous.

You do not have to, as in days gone by, actually posses a trade, any talent, be the recipient of any awards or even acclaim in your chosen field or do anything at all. You can just be and these fuckers will still write about you and take pictures of you when you go out shopping or on the piss, thus fame begets fame and you are on the gravy train for as long as they will have you. If your life has any aspect of tragedy to it then all the better. Drug addiction, infidelity and mental problems are all lapped up because they sell copy. If your parent dies or your sibling has a bit of previous as a petty thief or drug dealer, "MORE, MORE, MORE" they shout. Who gives a fuck? Really? The conclusion rapidly reached is this: the blame lies with you, the consumer and fact you are willing to invest. There is a market for it, therefore someone somewhere will produce it. Personally, it can fuck off and die for me and if I am ever in any doubt as to the conceptual merits of anything I ask myself the following question: If someone announced tomorrow that it would cease to exist, would I at any point in the future devote a seconds thought to it's demise? Go ahead and by all means take a stab in the dark.....

When you have been at the forefront of media speculation for a certain period of time, you can be elevated to the lofty position of having your own column. This means you are paid, as a non talented waste of carbon with zero contribution to anything of any note to comment on other non talented wastes of carbon while they also achieve exactly fuck all. Then millions of people buy a magazine in order to read your informed opinions (which never extend beyond a paragraph per subject) that may enlighten the population as to your take on the results of someone's breast enlargement/the fact that they once went to China Whites and flashed their underwear/whether or not they have gained weight during pregnancy. The biscuit taker, (and this is a belter) is that if you are too busy, lazy or illiterate to come up with these magical and entertaining soundbites by yourself, a person will be tasked to write them for you and you will still get paid.

Wake up people and for fucks sake start thinking for yourselves. There is a wonderful world out there full of opportunity and education. Think beyond the petty aspirations of vanity, fame and having more money than you need because in the grand scheme of things these amount to less than zero and matter not a jot. Read a book, broaden your horizons, listen to some good music and enjoy and appreciate the people around you for as long as you are able. Don't feign interest in anybody in your life who may deserve it and then choose to turn on your television or buy a magazine and invest in someone who couldn't give a fuck less.

Fakery, eggs and the consumer.

2008-04-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

Someone on a trainer forum I frequent brought everyone's attention recently to the fact that in China people make fake eggs and sell them to the public for consumption. Fake fucking eggs.

They retail for less than a genuine egg and contain amongst other ingredients: gelatin, benzoic acid, coagulating material, lemon-yellow colouring powder, alum, calcium chloride and paraffin wax.
People buy this shit and serve it to their families. Alum alone, when consumed in sufficient quantities, causes dementia.

Consider the fact that we are not talking about a nice Henry Lloyd coat, a Ralph Lauren shirt or a pair of Air Max here. I have no problem with fake goods, ("each to his own" is sometimes a motto I live my life by) I grew up in an area where such goods were sold in every local pub. It was the norm to have people congregate around a parked car on a Saturday dinnertime or outside work on a weekday and pick the knock off garments they would wear the next weekend. The usual story is that someone has acquired (read stolen) a job lot of designer clothing and needed to offload it quickly and at far less than retail. The reality was that it was all fake and manufactured in China and the sellers were taking regular deliveries, the bulk of which were sold through a network of single mums that would purport to have shoplifted it and the rest sold from the dealers car. You had access to a myriad of "expert" knowledge from pubgoing folk that knew what to look for as regards labels, barcodes, hangtags, packaging, position of embroidery etc. and so you were totally safe from falling into the trap of buying fake goods and the abuse that wearing a £100 shirt when you earned £600 a month would bring.

We as a country rely on the cheap labour that China provides, whilst turning a blind eye to their complete lack of moral fibre. Even if you occupy the high ground of boycotting sweatshop labour, the chances are that the manufacture of the clothes you stand up in and the shoes you walk in have in some way contributed to the suffering of someone in a country far, far away.

Eggs though, are a step too far. That's when the realization hits you that this world is a more fucked up place than you possibly imagined it could be.

Ageing and the ever quickening passage of time.

2008-03-31T15:12:00.000-07:00

My nephew will be five years old tomorrow and I could not be more proud of the little guy. He is wise beyond his years, tall and good looking and a credit to his Mum and Dad. The moment when my sister and her (then) fiancee took me aside and told me that they were having him, and that I could not react in the way they both knew I would for fear of letting the pre-scan cat out of the bag in a room full of people (who were all wondering why my sister was abstaining from her usually Herculean alcohol consumption) will stay with me until my dying day. More relevantly, that occasion seems like yesterday, or perhaps last week sometime. People make statements like that all the time don't they? Did your parents ever say to you that the time passes so fast you would not think it possible?
Tis true my dears, tis true.

The last ten years seem to have passed in the blink of an eye. I have loved, hated, made friends, lost friends, seen my body/health go downhill etc. just like everyone. I have fought, won, been defeated, laughed and cried. Every second, minute and hour has been filled with something or other, the ticking of the clock on my wall or the watch on my wrist ever constant, but the hindsight of my experience much less so. Six week holidays as a child lasted much longer than advertised and yet the important memories of the last few years I strive to keep clear seem to fade with a rapidity I am unable to fathom. I feel as though am living in dog years.
I feel old today.

Manners and the downfall of polite society.

2008-03-30T11:40:00.000-07:00

As part of my working week and by necessity at other times I have to rely on public transport. On average this means four buses a day Monday-Friday and maybe one or two buses or a train at weekends. The people that I encounter are, in the main, quiet and polite but there has always been a minority I cannot stomach. Recently the percentage of people that get right on my tits (for want of a better phrase) seems to have at least doubled. A few fundamental rules for users of public transport and those who see fit to venture from their homes and into the general public domain follow:

-When you ask a person employed in the public service industry for anything, no matter how minor or insignificant, say please. If and when the service you requested is fulfilled to your satisfaction, say thank you.

-When boarding or alighting a bus or train, consider your fellow passengers and especially those traveling in the opposite direction. For those among you uninitiated in the basic laws of physics, the following may help: "Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it. and "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction". I am not sure how many times Newton caught the bus in Leeds when he was coming up with his first and third laws but reading between the lines I reckon it was a fair few.
Basically, the poor bastards already on the vehicle who want to alight are unable to do so until you step aside and let them. This problem is compounded if, in your selfish desire to clamber aboard, you actually do so before they have the chance to get off. This Clash of The Traveling Titans is easily avoided by simply not being an impatient Fuckwit.

-Any and all persons traveling with an infant and it's required accessories take precedent over you if you are not. This means letting them do what they need to (and letting them do it first, utilizing as much physical space as they require) in order to get where they are going. There exists also the possibility of offering them help if they look as though they may need it. I know this person is a stranger to you but think about it: you were a baby once and you probably have a fair amount of respect and protectiveness as regards your parents, so recall how it feels when someone acts in a disrespectful manner towards them and react accordingly.

-The designated seats for the old and infirm are at the front of the bus for a reason. Old people and (interestingly) ageing skateboarders have imparted to me on numerous occasions the knowledge that the first bodily indication of old age is when your knees fail. It's totally cool to sit in these seats, but give them up if they are needed. For old people I mean, not skateboarders. Fuck them, they knew what they were getting into when they started throwing themselves down ten-sets although they will probably give their seat up for you in a heartbeat.
You will be old one day if you are lucky. You may experience people who are rude and inconsiderate. Don't make yourself a part of somebody else's suffering during the Autumn of their years.

-Music is great, we are as humans the only species that understands it and enjoys it. We all like what we like but I fully do not like what you like. Keep it to yourself by wearing a pair of headphones. I prefer reading a good book when traveling but I have never felt the need to stand up during my journey and read the fucker out loud to my fellow commuters. Please afford me the same courtesy, as sped up versions of classic songs with a fine, pumping beat are not really my cup of tea. Please also refrain from putting on "some more Akon or 50 cent" (although if you have the unreleased 50cent album The Power Of The Dollar, made before he was shot and when he could actually rap, please do as it is dope and I would welcome it with open ears) .

All of the above goes some way to making my life a tiny bit easier in all sorts of ways. I am convinced that The Business Man, random idiots and 15 year old scally cap-perchers will all be reading this at some juncture so I invite them to take heed and ask that we all just get along.

Equality and the struggle of the modern pansy man.

2008-03-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

If you are male and between the ages of say, 18 and 40, this world is probably a fucking mystery to you. If, as I, your musings sometimes lead you to wonder what the hell your place in society is as regards equality then why do we never speak about it? I may just have a bash.

Equality is a true and proper thing and one that should be celebrated, but abuse of equality is prevalent in the modern world and it is this that galls me so.
For one thing, I would love to think of myself as a fairly well rounded and sensitive individual but sometimes I just can't help feeling that in modern society we have drawn the short straw as a gender. It all comes down to one thing. One indesputable fact: We are not allowed to fight a women in hand to hand combat. Before you start screaming "frustrated womenbeater!", allow me to elaborate if I may. I have experienced the kind of woman that is annoyed when I open a door and let them go through it before me, the type that is aghast at the very thought of me paying for everything on a night out or a meal. They have been conditioned to think that because they are created equal (an assertion I agree wholeheartedly with BTW), such gestures of chivalry are to be taken as a personal affront, as they undermine the victories fought hard for, and won by, the feminists of previous generations. OK, rewind and change that shit. Your date is teaching you fundamental life lessons here. Don't hold the fucking door and never again try and impress by displaying the caring side of your nature. The girl has her own money (she earns more than you motherfucker) and is perfectly capable of pulling out her own chair you dunce.

We now know where we are, no Alpha males here, just two equals sharing a little space in the world so let's move on. It's the end of the night and you are waiting the taxi queue having a bit of a chat, she seems a tad cold but do you offer your coat? Fuck knows so you err on the side of caution, if she starts turning Blue and seems confused you can worry about it then. She has had a lovely time and things are going grand when a bunch of drunken men stagger past and start making rude comments. Now you may look after yourself and know a bit of Kung Fu or you may just be a fat bastard with an easily employed "scary look", but if you have a modicum of intelligence you are not going to wade into a group of young drunken men at the drop of a hat. Because you will get your arse kicked. The reaction of your date is sullen and silent and when she springs out of her reverie, it's time for equality to take a back seat and female venom is injected via your equal ears into your brain. "Why didn't you be a man and stick up for me back there?" "Those lads were really offensive and you stood by and did nothing". My dear, the problem is this: you also stood by and did nothing. Even though societies rules dictate that you are mostly exempt from an arse kicking due to the fact you have breasts and a vagina.

Arguments are worse. If you have an argument with a man and it escalates, you either back down for a myriad of reasons (mutual respect/not being the dominant party/the safe knowledge that in five minutes you will be calm and, with the air cleared, are likely to reach a rational resolution/actually having the balls to admit you are in the wrong) or you know that as an animal, (albeit a self aware animal) you are going to have to fight. Fighting and violence are part of human nature and although best avoided are sometimes the only option. I am comfortable with this. It is the age old final settler of disputes and part of our genetic makeup.

You may have the exact argument as eluded to above with the modern woman, but at no point are you allowed to show aggression. However, the lady can be as aggressive as she wants, again safe from comebacks due to the selective and fully interchangeable rules of society and equality that she is able to dip in and out of at will. She is comfortable with shouting, she is comfortable with abuse and pushing and sometimes all out violence. You are, as a modern pansy man, rendered impotent by the very fact of being a civilized member of society.

From personal experience I ask the following: Where is the equality and civility in a drunken woman squaring up to you whilst on a night out, ripping open your shirt and spitting in your face when you know that to give in to your first instinct and have a fight not only goes against the grain of everything you were brought up to be but will lead to the disappointment of your peers and possibly a court appearance whereby you will instantly be the underdog no matter the circumstances?

Where is the equality in being present when a girl starts trouble with a group of men and you are the one that is beaten?

Show me a petition that states women should have equal pay, equal rights and not be discriminated against and I will sign that motherfucker in a heartbeat. I have never hit or abused a woman in my entire life and I don't expect props for this simple fact, I just think the modern man needs to take his Manhattan Portage manbag and his funny haircut and start standing up for his beliefs. Equality should mean equality.