My most used phrase

Oh dear. Not again.

To top it off this time while having a sensible drink with some pals of mine, who walks into the pub but none other than my two sexy mates, Pickle and Foxy. Not expected and further more Pickle I thought deliberately ignored me. Like I said, so I thought. The reason for this? I won't tell but not to put too fine a point on it, the last time I saw her I ended up having a heated discussion about something. That's as far as it goes.

So I wasn't ignored as such but neither was I spoken to for much of the night. So feeling a little like an unloved dog (queue sad music) I resumed my typical sociable ettiquette by mingling. Its what I do best. Oh and drink a lot of booze. Last night especially a lot of booze. Why? I have a stag party to go to today and I have a hangover. Because of Pickle. I know its not fair to blame someone for ones troubles but if that person is the trouble then that could be just enough cause. I will tell you why in a moment how all of what I am saying makes for a load of old rubbish.

I sat cornered in a busy bar as Pickle and Foxy walked in. It took them a while to register that I was there even all the while I tried to catch Pickles eye. I pondered why for a short while before a prompted hello was greeted. The raced on and the more drunk I got. Then by some miracle I was invited by my two friends Pickle and Foxy) to a rather posh dinner party on the Terrace of the House of Lords. Pickle and Foxy looked simply stunning. In fact a special mention to Pickle as clearly she has no idea how beautiful she is, amazing. I've seen Pickle looking like someone you could only dream of but this time around she look so amazingly stunning that a word hasn't been invented for her yet. As always the unwelcomed guest, and especially when wearing jeans and a denim shirt while others were not, I sipped champagne with the best of them. I certainly got a few funny looks as I made my entrance. As I sipped more champagne and trying very hard to remember that Pickle was my friend and not to be attracted to, I was approached by a woman from Austria/Germany or somewhere from near that part of europe. I have no idea what we were talking about as most of the time as it was Pickle that kept all of my attention. I have no idea where Foxy got to. Clearly hunting some chickens. The lady I spoke to was rather attractive for someone knocking on the door of about late forties. But I felt very out of place for this party so I made my excuse and left. As I walked back to the normality of the Sport and Social (my local drinking establishment) I ponder in the sense of it all. It was kind to have been invited and were I more appropriately dressed I would have enjoyed the occassion more. As it was I looked like a relative tramp compared to all the other people.

The absolute highlight of the night was close to the end of my ability to look sober after a copious amount of the booze. While back in the pub chatting to random persons, I noticed the whole of the party of people that I previously encountered entering en masse. Enter the beautiful Pickle and Foxy. Enter attractive older lady. What happened next was just plain horror and embarrassment and a touch of strangeness. Attractive lady walks up towards me (why does that always happen?) Something was said and the next thing, we kissed and not in the friendly kind of way. I don't know who was confused first but clearly it wasn't the right thing to do. More importantly was a vision that will haunt me for a long long time. It was Pickle's expression as I broke away from said attractive older lady. There were only a few ways I could've interpretted it. Disappointment, shock, a little hurt perhaps? I don't know. But there is something about that expression that gives me a really bad feeling in my heart. I suppose a little like cheating on someone but being caught. Horrible. Terrible. I could try to justify it by suggesting that pre-married Pickle was just about the flirtiest woman alive and had every living man wrapped around her finger as probably can now if she wanted so that she should know better than to pass judgment on me but I can't say that. As my actions were just plain idiotic and suffice to say I took the opportunity to ask a friend to escort me to the nearest cab.

So resultss for the evening. Good chatter with friends. Helpful advice on surviving single life. Annoyance with attractive friend. Flirtation leading to disaster. Help getting a cab by friend. Kebab. Home. Hangover.

Oh dear. Not again.

Stag night in Brighton.

My mate is having a stag night on Saturday where the itinerary is how shall I put it, covers all things blokeyness. Shooting, racing, boozing. Brilliant!

I shall report on the proceedings and after effects sometime after that. I anticipate that it'll be a great one and also probably my best Saturday night out all year.

I did however had to arrange more practical things like someone to look after the cats, so thanks Mum and Dad for doing it. I'd also like to thank my fans and my confidants, my neighbours and my.....God it sounds like a final word before I depart.....I have no idea what the night involves but if you hear from me some time next week then I'll have made it back in one piece.

Stag Night

The last time I went to a stag night I got invited by a friend who knew of a friend's friend who was celebrating his last night as a single person. We arrived as he was pretty much bollocks'ed. The trick was to arrive at his home en masse ready to pin him down and put a load of immac (or what ever its called these days) on his nether regions. Why I found that amusing then I don't know. Anyway as we were waiting for his best man to deliver him to his doom, one of his mates mentioned that he collects weapons of old. Swords, knives, you get my point. At this point working out the maths, pissed bloke+loads of bloke ready to pin him down+immac+stranger (me)=very dangerous place to be. So with that the moment arrives and down the floor he goes while reciting every kind of expletive known to man. Whilst participating in this apparent jovial male bonding (you've got to be kidding), as he continued spitting blood, he said out aloud, "that bloke in the red shirt, he's a dead man!!" Me!! As he took a swing for me as one chap lost his grip on his arm, I smartly or instinctively moved and he ended up lamping his best man! How cool was that! After hearing his screams as he got into the shower I decided to stand outside ready to run anticipating a huge sword of a thing possibly penetrating parts of a man that can only be described as a violation. Twas not the case however and how we laughed and joked afterwards. To tell the truth, it still gives me a cold shiver of what could have happened.

Snooker Part Deux

To the left of the picture is the fittest snooker referee. Ever. Michaela Tabb. Don't know who the odd looking chap is though. More of that in the sport please!

Snooker

I like playing the game and watching the game. So we are at the quarter finals of the Grand Prix. Just watching the snippets of today's play and I noticed Stephen Lee sizable bulk. Is it me or has he turned into the human ball. I know how dedicated these players are to the art of snooker but this is going a little too far. If he holds his breath for long enough his opponent may end up potting him instead!

A quick Joke...

A bloke from Yorkshire has found a new way to take Exstacy.....

E by gum.

Ta Daaaa!!!!

Oh Dear

It was great to spar with my chum Barry's Beef yesterday in preparation for a darts match, not mine , his. Its a little difficult to gauge how good one is when playing constantly with the same person over and over again. Don't get me wrong, my darts partner and I put in some serious practice time for the eventual final next Thursday evening. There seems to be more satisfaction when beating someone you rarely play with. The end score was 2-2. A pleasant result for two left handers with completely unique throwing styles.

The night wears on and Pickle made an appearance. I like Pickle a lot and think the world of her but last night I don't know what got into my head but I was feeling a little frustrated with some of the things that were being said. Pickle is famously nosey and has a knack for remembering the most startling amounts of detail of conversations years ago. If she wasn't so beautiful I'd call her an elephant. Ah and I'll come back to my last comment. Amazingly these talents amount to what could be a prosperous career in journalism. Even more interesting as it dawned on me last night that relative to erm relative, while I have divulged in some intimate conversations about myself, Pickle has the knack of saying absolutely nothing about herself. There a couple of times where I've injected a conversation starter and it only amounts to a three word response sometimes. A true sign of a journo or possibly a dodgy italian politician. Speaking of italians, her mate desccribed her as having an italian look about her. I personally can't see it. So she asked what I thought her theme was. So I said irish. She asked why to which I said she had irish eyes. I can just see her now at home in front of a mirror checking out her eyes. Yes you are.

Oh yes, the most infuriating thing of all is describing her as beautiful. She is stunnning. This not just my opinion, this has been commented to me by every single male friend of mine bar none. Even complete strangers enquire about her to the point where I could wear a placard for everytime I get asked the same questions to which there are the same answers. "No" and "Mate" and "Married". It is a little wearing as it is a little dishearting saying that. I digress. So with my complement to Pickle I find it even more stunning to find that she describes her self as ugly. Not even taking the piss either. I said "you've got to be joking". And as sincere as day, she actually thinks that. How on earth.....don't get me started otherwise I'll just do a repeat of last night minus the booze. Right time to crack on with getting ready for work and doing my same routine of wondering how I chat up that bird at the train station. Is it actually possible to chat someone up first thing in the morning..?

2Darts back again....

I forgot to mention the thing that made me chuckle this weekend. As you know I'm a bit of a grand prix fan and the weekend just gone was a good one. A fabulous ending to the season thanks to Kimi Raikonnen. As the last grand prix of the season as is the last for the career of Michael Schumacher; a presentation was made to the man by no other than Pele. That famous footballer. As the presentation was made, his successor was absent from the proceedings. The commentator asked why he had not unlike the other drivers been present to which the replied "I was taking a shit". Brilliant!! There are not many times on live TV where a prominant figure of motorsport of other kind of sport speaks his mind. The only other time I recall such an embarrassing time was when David Coulthard described the state of Louise Goodmans nipples live on tv.

Sisterhood

I have loads of wonderful girl friends. And many of them (you know who you are) have been great in recent months. I have met a cool chick of a friend recently who (watch this space) may develop into a 2Darts babe. I think that there are two kinds of single blokes in this world. There are blokes who become single who do blokey single things and huddle with similarly single blokes and there are others like my self that too do single blokey things but instead have loads of female friends (mostly married or engaged). My last relationship suffered the problem of me having the sisterhood that I adopted or adopted me that I suppose became a little too much. My friend Pickle said something wonderful a few weeks back that was really nice. She said that she and Foxy were the 2Darts's girls. She meant it in the most nicest of ways, in the most caring of ways. Pickle has known me for a long time and many a person has always said how perceptive she is. Whether a woman is a friend or a lover, there is something most wonderful when a kind hearted compliment is given that makes a bloke feel special. Thanks.

Farewell to F1GP 2006 and Michael Schumacher

I sit here waitng for the final grand prix of this year with great anticipation and celebration for a few reasons. This season has been one of the best for a long time again for a few reasons. Drama, extravegance. Alonso's supposed run away season whittled down to the very end by Shumacher who at times played some under handed tactics and penalised for it; which wasn't the case a few years ago. A close battle with Alonso and Schumacher taking a bite out of each other all season. All grand prix fans celebrate one of the most consistly great drivers retiring is sad and timely. Fantasy F1 would suggest that a marriage of Raikonnen and Shumacher making a great final pairing if only he stayed a year longer but the great man knows when its time to hang up his helmet. Whether or not this Brazilian grand prix is going to be entertaining, it is going to be a race to remember. I put my thanks to Michael for years of entertainment. I am no Schumacher fan but if it wasn't for his talent, F1 in recent years would not be a sport to enjoy. The race is just about to start so I will sign off for the moment.

Average Weekend.

It was the usual Friday after work couple of drinks with some mates. Which was going well. I got a call from my mum for a couple of drinks at their local drinking establishment. Arrived and managed to get plastered (not intentionally) after three there. So the rest of the weekend so far has been an exercise in restraint and feelings of guilt. Some people when they feel either down on their luck or pretty guilty for the over indulgence booze the night before go to church. Could this be why people go to church on a Sunday? To repent for their sins of the Saturday night. It makes sense to me. As I am not religious I seek alternatives to wash away my pangs of guilt of drinking too much by other means. There is a small make shift charity shop just a couple of minutes away from where I live. This cures any ill feeling of the night before as I will buy a couple of books from them knowing that the money goes to charity. A much more favorable alternative than to pay the wage of a holy priest (vicar/monk place your favorite god's representative here..............) so that they too can enjoy some holy booze.

A public announcement

ImmenseSpace, where are you?

Unveil youself

The british people again are facing yet another test in the faith of the multicultural society that we live in.

The news of a prominant government minister speaking his mind about an apparently sensitive subject has caught the attention of the both the tabloids and broadsheets. Generally when news like this hits both types of consumers of current affairs then it makes it indicitive of a real social issue. Not a political one. A politicans opinion adds reasonable and sensible provocation for a debate.

I've spoken to my friends on the subject and have been asked on my views. I am a person with an objective look on life and with this particular subject when I put my reputation in the public domain causes me to think, and think and think again as to how I can involve myself in this predicament. Like many of the people that I share my social status with am unwilling to freely express what I really think. But then what is the point in hiding behind my own deceptive veil that is 2darts if I can't articulate what I think of the situation at hand. The issue is not about religion or politics; it is about a very human instinct to read an individuals facial expression when talking. Only the socially inept would accept that to hide behind a veil or a mask makes no difference to what is said or expressed. Facial expression is a very natural and telling way of what a person thinks or feels. Raising an eyebrow or a slight upturn of the mouth is more effective at expression than any kind of spoken word could describe. The society that we live in expects it. Humour many a time is delivered wholey by the slightest smirk, grin and grimace. As are other expressions of emotion. It is also a gauge of honesty, sincerity, etc....

I recently had a predicament where a telephone conversation about a problem would not have conveyed my reasoning about a subject. By that I mean negotiating a deal would not have worked by a simple phone call. It is impersonal and inappropriate. I'm from an old school of thought that if you need to cut a deal or convince some one of something that it is best done face to face. I did that successfully, recently. If it had been a telephone discussion, it would have been easier for the other party to dismiss my proposal.

Recent events about a muslim woman having the right to wear a veil and the opposing argument about further alienating the faith sounds a little like the inability for a multicultural nation to integrate. Why? Because religion of any kind is very much a mechanism for promoting segregation and intolerance in the wrong mindset. Any train of thought or concept taken too literally causes division and fragmentation of even the most tolerant of societies. Is there a solution to this ? No. I had a good upbringing where to a point religion was the centre point to living. But thanks to my parents they let me decide how I should live my life. Religion is a manual to how to conduct yourself in life. It promotes a framework for making the right moral decisions and to bring together people that share a common belief but is religion so short sighted that another faith or way of life is wrong? Religion played a part when society wasn't as sophisticated as it is now. Religion was a way of uniting mankind's natural tendancy to protect communities from one another. Religion picked up where tribalism found its limitations. Religion now finds its limitations in a world where technology provides a medium for understanding and tolerance and acceptance. Is there a need for religion? No. Not anymore. Perhaps now we should find another word for this new type of integration. Who now are we protecting ourselves from? The so called religous ghettos that are the buzz words of the media only describe a last stand of those faiths that think they are being threatened. In reality its their faiths that adds colour to human kind......and no I've not dropped a load of acid.

Boxing

Why am I talking about what I did last weekend so late in the week. I was cold calling. Bollocks. Now everyone knows its me! Nope I was hosting a swinging party. Er actually nope. Not that either. Infact doing nothing whatsoever as Saturday night was fight night. I bumped into Beefy on Friday night and had a drunken conversation about the Calzaghe/Bika fight amongst others. Not knowing Bika's form or indeed never heard of the man I vaguely recall nodding in the right places about form, historical defeats, chances of winning etc.

Fight night Saturday night and I missed the first seven rounds much to my disappointment. I did however see the other five. Other boxing matches (Ahmed/Harrison) have amounted to nothing more than just a bunch of overhyped british boxers given really shit opponents. Or opponents paid to fall or just box really shit so they get paid a back hander to pay for their crack habit. Round eight and the commentator were singing Joe Calzaghes like he was a champion. Oops he is but his appalling performance quite plain to see didn't reflect the flattering commentary. His opponent Sakio Bika was immensely strong. Joe looked knackered. I could see a fix coming. How wrong I was, no sooner had I resigned myself to yet another show of a fixerer upper than did the man show his expert form. It was a struggle. But Joe won.

Now Calzaghe is to face another hard nut Mikkal Kessler from Denmark. Unbeaten and younger. For the bookies one person who could end Calzaghe's winning run. February is the date. This might just be his last.

Just a point to make about last weekend's fight. The best form of boxing I have seen in a long time. A real brawl. Total aggression. Shades of bruisers of the past. Holyfield, Tyson etc. Its what the sport needs. I'll add that during the match, the rules of boxing were mostly respected. Mostly.

Can I offer you a free.....Mr 2Darts ?

A quick one first. Is there any truth in the tale that once a potato starts to go green then it becomes poisonous?

Today was an exercise in hard working and uncharacteristically a march straight to the train station with no temptation to meet my fellow boozing chums. Why? No particular reason. I got an email from an old boozing chum who recently got married. She sent the link to pictures of her big day and she looked amazing. Pause. Another one to add to my all time famous babe list. Winona Ryder. I'm watching Mr Deeds. Play....and she probably looked even better in real life. She reminded me of how life moves on and people get married and have kids etc. Its people like that that remind me that life doesn't have to stand still and its really about what you make of it. Being in the land that is single isn't all that bad. Its an adventure especially for someone like me who is a serial monogamous relationship person. The trouble is I've done it for too long and never gave myself a chance to explore me. I'm at home feeling content. For the moment.

So armed with the feel good factor, I settled down after feeding Poo Girl and Sick Boy. Just moments into settling down. Pause. I've just spent two minutes talking to my cat who keeps meowing and making general cat type noises. Strange. Play. The phone rings. In the land of relationship I'd anticipate some tosser of a cold caller calling at this time of the evening. In the land of singledom there is a sense of hope and anticipation that it might be a friend or family member and filled with confidence I answer. The pregnant pause is a dead give away to the fact that somewhere in India is a poor bastard who wants to sell me something so that he can feed the family (at this point I suspect that the politically correct brigade are up in arms and are hunting me down). But I'm in the land of singledom and also not in a particularly bastard mode. So entertaining this chap who actually had a good mobile phone deal going I decided to play ball. That is until he started telling me where I live, how long I've live here and who I am. At this point I stopped him and said that there was no need to tell me who I am. Armed with no sense of humour he continued about the offer; three times. Fast forward. I tried as I may to explain that I wouldn't give my financial details over the phone despite the fact that the deal was pretty good. Another five minutes afterwards I told the man that no way and the deal is off. And the great thing about the ending was unlike some UK call centres, the man was very pleasant in politely ending the conversation. No pressure selling and no stroppiness. There are plenty of arguments about call centres relocating to places in India but given the sheer politeness of every person doing such a tough job (I used to work for Kirby Vacuum cleaners) when they've not made the sale is just what we need. When was the last time you experienced politeness and courtesy? In London it is a very rare thing.

Addicted to...

One of the part time regulars at my local drinking establishment is a friend called Frosty. Frosty gave up smoking some months ago or perhaps just over a year. Well done to him for going for it. I think his technique and there are a few notably popular methods. The cold turkey, patches, lozenges, mints, chewing gum, hypnotherapy, eating, solitary confinement etc. So he chose the Allen Carr method which for those who don't know involves reading his book from beginning to end and magically you give up smoking. I have read it twice and am still in the process of stopping. I actually did quite well recently. I managed two weeks and a half weeks without using a combination of the cold turkey, eating and solitary confinement method. I took two weeks off work and stayed at home and rarely ventured out except to buy loadsa junk food. So Thursday night we spoke about addiction and the general opinion was that addiction anything is bad. How can being addicted to sex (as an example) be bad? 99% of blokes would agree that its no bad thing unless it becomes a devient thing to do and they end up commiting a terrible crime to fulfill the addiction. Or is addiction exactly that. Is it a definition of something pleasurable that has turned itself into self harm, harm to others or both? Or does it describe something that is repeated with little or no thought to it? Or perhaps something that once a person would recognise as being pleasurable to an extent so much so that he/she has become desensitised to it and needs a great or more intense sensation to fulfill the need. So Frosty likes cheese. He said that he is addicted to cheese. Weird fetish if you ask me. But could I apply what I've said earlier to his particular addiction? At which point does the life of this man become consumed by his desire for a cheese fix? At what point will he stop washing and shaving himself in the mornings. Not put out the rubbish or clean his teeth for a cheese fix? Will he steal to fund his habit? Sell his body to men and women for a nibble of stilton? Every one has an addiction. No one person lives a moderate life. For some its cigarettes or booze, for others its sex and drugs or a combination of all four. Other people are addicted to keeping fit which ironically can kill if my theory of addiction is correct. Perhaps it is everyone addiction to something that in the end kills us. But death by cheese?

Commitments

Its not that I couldn't be bothered to blog all this week. I can only say that work and social commitments have taken priority. Many of my friends have returned from a three month break and its good to see them all again. With regards to work; it has certainly been busy. Quite fulfilling and yesterday just about topped the busy end of the working life scale. The problem is with remembering it all for Monday. I must admit though the evening turned out to be quite the most pleasant for some time. I entered by unsually busy drinking establishment with the thought of having just a couple and knowing full well that was never going to be the case. I listened to stories about the croatian war from my Slavian friend who after his service ended up a chef (how that works out I don't know but I wouldn't complain about his food!). Amazing stuff that he recounted that I can only imagine what it may have been like. My friend Pickle turned up which was a suprise as she'd never turn up with out her right hand woman Foxy. After a brief moment to convince Pickle that she did indeed need a quick drink we spent most of the night talking. The context of which was frank and honest and I must admit a well need talk. Mostly for my benefit though as I was feeling a little down in the dumps and it wasn't the booze talking either for once. The great thing about being around Pickle is she is one of a few very attractive female friends that I regard as friends. I also get great satisfaction about telling my male friends who she is whenever they ask who that hot chick I'm with is. Brilliant for my self esteem. And even better that I tell them that she my mate. The downside is that is all it will be. ...Que Sera Sera!

Your 'avin aiee larf!!

Joke (It helps if you can impersonate Sean Connery):

Sean Connery's career had taken a recent downward turn and jobs were scarce. His agent desperate to find him any part for him was approached by a TV advertising company to star in a commercial. After a brief discussion the agent puts down the phone rather happy that his comission would roll with job offered to the fading actor. So with that he calls Sean early that morning.

Agent: "Sean, I have good news for you."

Sean: "Well that's fantastic my good man. Tell me, what is it?"

Agent: "Well its for a commercial advert"

Sean: "What sort of advert?"

Agent: "It's for a Martini drink. There is one catch however..."

Sean: "Yes?"

Agent: "You'll have to be there for 10'ish."

Sean: "Why my good man. I don't even have a racket."

Ta daaa!!!!!

A Little Harsh

Just reading over today's entries this afternoon, I realise that some of my moodiness has rubbed off on to my blog. Sorry. Hangovers! Who needs 'em. Its a good thing UKTV Gold is doing a run of "Carry on" films. There's nothing like a good bit of innuendo to brighten up the day. Just like Laurel and Hardy and Norman Wisdom films, Carry on up the Khyber is one of my all time favorites. Do they do comedy as good as that now? Not really. British sitcom? Died a death some time ago. What a shame that now all we have is the likes of My Family, and the one with the twat who thinks he's a superhero. So insignificant that I can't even remember it. I think political correctness killed many of the quality comedy writers and their shows. Admittedly anything that encourages racism is still a no no. But when you had the likes of the Carry On films and even Benny Hill, what a laugh. It doesn't encourage me to slap a womans arse and these are the comedies that I used to grow up with. I doubt very much that kids today are any more suseptible to that sort of thing than in my youth.

Chefs and Cooks part Deux

And another thing about TV chefs. Why are most of them blokes? From memory, I can only recall a few. But of the few notable ones are the ladies from the "Two Fat Ladies", Sophie Grigson (the mumsy looking one), my mum and my ex-girlfriend. Nigella Lawson doesn't count as she has someone to do the cooking for her. She is afterall just a pretty face. Although the hips kind of some add credibility to her talents. Having said that, quite recently there have been some top chef totty notably Jo Pratt as seen to your left. A fine figure of a female chef. Shame about the surname but I suppose you can't have everything. In particular I'd recommend one her recipes, Greek Lamb Salad and Red Pepper Hummus.

Chefs and Cooks

I love cooking. Or I used to anyway. When there was a time I had a laydee I used to enjoy creating wonderfful dishes for her to savour. Alas those days are gone. So I am confined currently to watching the UKTV Food channel for inspiration. Now I rate Gordon Ramsay and that twirp Jamie Oliver quite highly as well any indian chef :-) and my Mum. They are producers of some of the finest culinary delights to hit my taste buds. There is one chef however who consistently makes me want to not eat food. That man is Gary Rhodes. Stupid haircut, irritating voice and very much an insincere TV personality. Oh and shit food. The reason why I am saying this is how can anyone who starts making something that looks like its going to taste fantastic end up at ballsing it up with an addition to the meal that is more at home in a completely different meal. "But you've never tried it!" I hear you cry! I couldn't give a toss.

One of Lifes Mysteries

Like the impossible feat of trying to lick ones elbow. I had a moment this morning. How on earth did an eyelash come to place itself in the back of my throat?

Blunket you fool

Politician David Blunkett admits that he nearly had a nervous breakdown following the the affair he had when he was home secretary. I can't believe he didn't see it coming. Ouch!

This Towns Gotta Bad Reputation

I'm a firm believer of never criticising someone elses home town as you never actually know the area until you've lived there so in the true tradition of irony I give you my top ten Chav towns. Oh and for all of you who don't know the term 'chav'. Here is a definition:

"Chav is a derogatory slang term in popular usage throughout the UK. It refers to a subculture stereotype of a person who is uneducated, uncultured and prone to antisocial or immoral behaviour. The label is typically, though not exclusively, applied to teenagers and young adults of white working-class or lower-middle class origin. Chav is used for both sexes, where a male chav is sometimes referred to as a chavster and a female as a chavette. ..."



Luton
Mitcham
Croydon
Sutton
New Addington
Harlesden
Thamesmead
Burnley
Bedford
Most areas in Essex

For those who won't understand the irony. Half of those areas on my list I've never actually lived in.

Quite irritating and amusing because its partly true is a description of my town on a fabulous website called Chavtowns.

South London Invasion

Proud to be South London. Sorry but I just had to make the statement. In the finest tradition of celebrations and indeed having started this new regime of a healthier diet and cycling, I used the opportunity of my friend Foxy's birthday to let it all hangout. Yes boozing and smoking. Terrible now that I wake up this morning with some regret. So as was the traditional way after a night of boozing and womanising. Ok forget the last part. Lets face it. I'm no John Wayne. Hang on a minute, his real name was Marion. Pansy. Anyway, I made my way as ever to my local kebab shop for a spot of heart attack in a pitta bread and for the first time ever I was refused. What was this? Divine intervention? They'd run out of kebab meat.....and they would let me use their toilet. So with a heavy heart I turned to the only place left. Next door. Many of you will have heard of KFC formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. In my day it was called exactly that, not this modern age of abbreviations. Its abbreviations for everything. For example, "Would you like a cup of T?". Erm. Hang on. Ok. I'll think of another one. South London has its own mini empire of fast greasy fried chicken and chip shops callled Morleys. I will simply not accept anyone from North London saying its a their invention. I seem to remember seeing this chain of shops first starting out somewhere in Brixton. From there, this chain of shops has spread. I was a hardcore faithful of the KFC until I must admit that for the first time ever, late last night I experienced what a Morleys tasted like. And just like a kebab after a cocktail of beverages, it tasted sublime. Highly recommended when hammered.

Oh and just to set my opinion in concrete, I found a good blog article at this site.

What is a Blog?

A friend of mine who I think is absolutely amazingly hilarious and wonderful and has this uncanny knack of impersonating just about everybody. She does a great characature of her nearest and dearest friends. Last night while celebrating Foxy's birthday, she commented on my blog. She exclamed that it was all me,me,me and blogsters are so self obsessed. Naive woman! Of course they aren't. I tried to define what a blog was but the very words that passed my lips were nothing but hollow ones as they travelled across the busy pub atmosphere and hit her ears. So this morning, feeling slightly hungover I thought I'd find a definition from a definitive source (Google).

"Blog is short for weblog. A weblog is a journal (or newsletter) that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption. Blogs generally represent the personality of the author or the Web site." - Google definitions.

So there you go Blarney Pickle.

At last, the truth.....

At last, the truth once and for all about kebabs of the meaty kind and not the chicken kind. A few years back I was told by a newly converted vegetarian that the "cow thigh" spinning around on a spit was made from the scraps of an animal carcass including such fine cuts like testicles, nose and lips etc. Did that put me off? Nope. Mad cows disease? Nope. I didn't really know what to think to be honest. I didn't think that kebabs traditionally were made of that kind of stuff. Bring on a programme called the 'F-Word' with Gordon Ramsey. Apart from the main feature of the show and in particular one episode there was a report on how the meat from kebabs are made. Burton on Trent has a sizeable factory that produces both lamb and beef kebabs. For coniseurs of kebabs, it is quite easy to tell the difference. For those not in the know, if the menu says 'Doner Kebab' then it is lamb, if it just says 'Kebab' then we're looking at beef. The crew filmed the source meat used before it turns into 'the thigh'. And despite the bullshit stories people have heard as described above, they are indeed made from proper lumps of flesh from a cow or lamb. Hoorah!! Tuck in boys and girls, the only thing you need to fear is a heart attack.

Bread and other food gripes...

Am I getting grumpier the older I get? I'm sure I've said this before. Hovis are advertising a bread without crusts for kids (or childish adults). What the hell for? Any parent that panders to their child's every wish, including cutting off crusts for kids is setting themselves up for the teenager from hell who expects everything. For everytime I got what I wanted when I was a kid, I'd be the biggest snob in the world. What's more, I bet you'd have to pay a premium for the bread manufacturer to cut the crusts off for you. This leads me on to ready grated cheese. Why? Packaged uncooked baked potato. Why? Ready made salads? Microwave kebabs? Microwave burgers? What's wrong with these people and the people who buy them?

Books

The other day I popped into my local charity shop to hand myself in. Just kidding. I popped into the charity shop to browse as these places are full of overlooked treasures. I in particular always look out for books of a certain age. My last treasure find was some years ago at an old book shop in Streatham (or St. Reatham for those traditionalists) in South London. In fact come to think of it, it was called the South London Book Shop. I'm sure of it. Browsing through the Sci-Fi section as I always did, I came across a book called the Time Machine naturally by H.G. Wells. The really interesting thing about it was when it was published. 1920. This book is priceless to me in everyway but in the monetary value of it. Why? When I hold the book, it feels like no other. Every page I turn makes me feel privelaged to do so like I hold something very very special. It goes without saying that it is his finest book written. For a book to make its way into my hands after seventy years or so handed on person to person, surviving all those years relatively unscathed is remarkable. There doesn't seem anything quite so special in the f limsy mass produced quality of the same book in modern times. So my advice to people is, if you really enjoy reading and have time to go hunting, find that favourite of yours (if it is a classic) of the earliest possible edition printed. It really does make all the difference.

The High's and Low's of Highs

A long time ago back in the misty haze that were my student days, I like a percentage of the population of students got introduced to a variety illegal substances. Experimentation was on the agenda of many a student back then. Each encounter was fulfilling in some ways and for the large part the majority of the experimentation was a once only. Once was definitely enough. This was down to education, commonsense and self awareness. Anything that is pleasurable is surely good for you right? Wrong. Not always. My parents taught me to be self aware and aware of others. They equipped me with enough commonsense not to fall into the traps that I saw others fall into.

Modern society as much as it struggles to accept modern day illegal drugs can never get past the barrier of the harm it does to people. Cocaine/Heroin/Acid/Cannabis/Ecstacy addicts. These people cannot stop the self abuse. Why? Because no one ever taught them how to use it responsibly. What about alchohol? Yes that too. But the government doesn't seem to recognise this substance as harmful enough to ban it. As much as the aforementioned drugs drive some people to self neglect, neglect of their friends, family members and children, so does alchohol. I won't linger on this subject for too much longer as I'm straying from my point. The drugs I have mentioned are highly potent. The effects are in the extreme. While at the time they are pleasurable when taken in moderation, they are addictive.

Nicotine too is addictive but the dependency on the revenue through taxation makes it acceptable to the government to fuel peoples addiction to it. The government only takes a very flimsy, insincere moral high ground toward tobacco by advertising the dangers of smoking. If they really cared, then surely a ban is the only way to go. Ask a smoker if they really enjoy smoking. Most of the time they are miserable and resentful for being dependent on the weed.

The people I knew and indeed the people I used to join in with all the fun of taking this that and the other have long since vanished out of my life the moment I stopped taking those subtances and like dark shadows receded away everytime I saw them. They saw me as someone to harm them, someone who looked down at them. There were times when they resented me leaving their circle so much that they often used to give the impression to other people that I infact still did it to deflect any attention away from their alter-ego existence, befriending policemen hoping that it would somehow provide them with credibility. What a joke. This is the extent they would go to. to protect the addiction and circle. What a shame.

Illegal drugs are soul destroying. I have met people who have even been addicted to cannabis. One drug that I thought couldn't possibly be addictive. But true it is. I had a friend of mine who was and probably still is, a car mechanic. A man working with dangerous machinery and on parts of a car such as brakes and fuel lines. Things vital to the safety of a car while smoking skunk. Amazingly stupid. Ironically he used to lecture about the evils of drink driving which of course is true. But getting stoned on skunk, working on a customers car and then finally driving the ten mile journey across London home? I never knew quite how he managed it. I suppose just like a drink driver who somehow manages to get away by driving home without crashing.

Finally, I get to the really interesting developments that have recently come to light in the newspapers and a certain scientific publication. Legal Highs. What? Yes. Legal herbal mixtures in pill form or dried leaf extract. All those hardcore stone heads out there are thinking "what a waste of money. You want the real thing mate." Yes these are the kind of people who are too hooked on the illegal stuff to even want to bother trying it. I came across an article in New Scientist magazine which caught my attention about legal highs. There is talk of a plant called Salvia D. which provides short bursts of hallucigenic feelings. I'd never heard of the thing by it is legal (at the moment). It is not addictive and there is no chance of an overdose. There are pills with combinations of herbal extracts and synthetic chemicals which produce the same kind of effects as magic mushrooms and ecstasy and acid without the terrible paranoia, addiction and feeling of general crappiness the following day. To me this all sounded a load of marketing rubbish. Now I am normally quite the optimist about the world but this brought out the cynic in me. A family relative once told me how they tried cannabis once and said that it didn't to anything for them to which I immediately thought they weren't smoking the real deal and infact it was probably po-purri. I decided after reading the article to research some more on the wonderful invention they call "the internet". I came across website upon website selling all kinds of magic pills from party pills to purple ohms to strawberry fields (how original) and Salvia D. Still no personal accounts of people who have taken these so called magic pills. This began to reinforce the cynic in me. Finally after fine tuning my google search field did I uncover a couple of sites where people have written in about there experiences. One writer described Purple Ohms. I read that one and then another and another. Mr Cynical kicked in and again I thought nothing more that a marketing ploy. Another way to rip off people to wanted to follow the legal road to getting high.

The scientific mind in me decided not to dismiss it outright. After all it was legal and I could quite happily dangle a couple of packets of this stuff from my ears and nobody including the police would give a damn. So I emailed my local "Head Shop" to enquire about the availability of a couple of the interesting sounding things that I'd read about. A reply came so down to the head shop I went. The gentleman behind the counter was a very helpful pleasant chap and after a conversation about the how's and what's I decided on my selection and waved goodbye. After much house work (to clear my mind of any guilt should this stuff actually work) I settled down for the evening and followed the instructions.......

......What a load of crap. They didn't work (one hour in). I decided to go back to the Head Shop the next day and complain. Half and hour later, I changed my mind. Can it really be legal? The whole of the night was amazing. I'd recommend some good music. Lights low. Nothing else beats it.

This brings me to my final point. What are the decisions behind legalizing or illegalizing recreational drugs? Is it a moral judgement? No. If that were so then perhaps alchohol and tobacco should be instantly banned (which I think is no bad thing). Is it a medical judgement? No. If that were so then perhaps alchohol and tobacco should be banned. A combination of the two? Maybe. The truth of the matter is that alchohol, tobacco and legal highs are all subject to taxation. This is what makes them legal. What are we suggesting here? The only difference between legal and illegal is revenue from tax. No not quite. If it weren't for the criminal association with current illegal drugs then I think one by one some of the illegal drugs mentioned earlier would then be de-classified. The argument against legalisation? Damaging to mental and physical health. There are many more people who die of alchohol and tobacco related illnesses than of drugs. The difference is that one alchohol and tobacco prolong the agony while drugs takes a shorter time for addiction or death. My Dad said to me that too much of anything is bad for you. Indeed, it is possible to kill yourself by drinking too much water.

I am in no way condoning the taking of drugs but I am reinforcing the irony that exists today. Like alchohol addiction doesn't effect everyone, neither does drug addiction to the majority of sensible people out there. But there is a problem. Addiction. Address why some people are more prone to addiction then you many have an answer or part of one.


CLICK HERE for the New Scientist Article.

Something to worry your wives and girlfriends

A quick glance at my portal to world that is the BBC news website and I noticed an article about men who pay for sex in the health section. Interestingly it was the mention that fifty percent of men who pay for sex actually have a partner. The poor woman. Two things are probably happening here for men to do this. Not enough sex at home. No sex at home. Okay three things, not enough variety sex at home. My response to this are three things. Dump her, use porn or talk to her about why there's no horizontal gymnastics in the bedroom anymore. Jeeze!

There's a line in the article that says:

"What some do instead is seek respite through alchohol, drugs or sex".

Umm I would have though that it would be a combination of either of the first two with the third or all three that ends up in shagging a lady of the night.

The other thought that crossed my mind was is this really new news? I mean surely this has remained in the relm of the unsaid word amongst fellow men. I personally have never done such a thing. I'd rather spend money on something else. Like a vibrator for my girlfriend for example. Or even a slap up meal and a bunch of flowers. Still does the trick and you get your clothes washed for you in the morning. (I'm just joking).

Here's the article.

Food Glorious Food.

As some of you may know, I enjoy cooking. Its one of the very few things in life where putting in some effort into something results in something satisfying. There isn't really many things in life that you could say the same about. So a word of warning to anyone hoping to try out 'Dunn Rivers Jerk Paste' to make Jerk Chicken. Don't use too much of it like I did last night. You'll be blowing rings of fire the following morning.

Showbiz Darts

Here's one for Barry's Beef. Showbiz Darts on Challenge TV Monday at 10.30pm.

Life Stands Still

"Its a funny old game". The phrase usually applies to football rather than Formula One grand prix. Today's Chinese grand prix is a race that I would apply that phrase to. A spectacular combination of unpredictable weather, tires, talent and crapidity (I think I've invented a new word). All appointments and obligations stand still for the final three grand prixs and after todays race validly so.


I'm no Shumacher fan but then I'm not an Alonso fan either. And true to the brit spirit, I always had some hope of Jense Button slipping past the warring front runners to claim his second win. Unfortunately it was not to be and at one point, there was no chance of a points finish due to crap tyres on his Honda. Amazingly from fourth to tenth to fourth position on the last lap over taking De La Rosa and team mate Barichello was genius. How he read the other drivers and the track condition to salvage some good points was frankly amazing especially when there were five cars in the mix on the second to last turn of the final lap. Superb! So now its down to the wire for Shumacher and Alonso with only Japan and Brazil to go. Japan being a traditional Schumacher favorite and Brazil being a fast and dry circuit usually favoring Renault (looking at the form for this season). Should I put money on it (bearing in mind that in a previous blog post, I'm not a betting man) ? I'll be brave and say Schumacher...just.

Big Ron the Racist

I was just browsing through my good chum's blog Barry's Beef as part of my daily ritual (sad isn't it) and came across a YouTube clip of a rather spectacular football tackle to which I asked why don't they do that these days to which he mentioned that also at the time that ex-football pundit and racist scum pointed out that he said something very unpleasant about the Cameroon fans. The clip incidentally was from quite sometime ago. More recently Ron the Racist make a comment about a international football player over the radio which fro the UK was unheard as there was a commercial break but somewhere in the middle east (Saudi Arabia I think, Barry might fill in the details for me about the incident), led him to be sacked from commentating football. Good riddance to the old fool. Astonishing that he tried justifying his comments by saying that during the 70's he helped many a black player to football stardom. What was he trying to say? That it gives him licence to promote racism in football? Tosser. Anyway so as I thought we'd see the last of him, where does he appear tonight on TV? On a show called "The All Star Talent Show". Having read who appears on tonights show, I think it'll be worth watching the old fool made to look like one too. The star line up includes, Jeremy Beadle, Cheeky Girls, Tamara Beckwithe and Andi Peters (Myleene Klasse, what on earth are you doing on a show for tossers?).

Umm speaking of...

Just a quick thought. I don't know if any of you have trained in public speaking but I have and one of the most important lessons in public speaking is never to pause or hesitate unless to make a point. Tony Blair clearly over exercises this particular exception. Ever played that game where you have to talk for thirty seconds with "umming" or hesitating. The way to win that game was to talk absolute meaningless, bollocks for that length of time......which I'm sure some of you will be muttering under your breath, "but he does that all of the time". Thanks.

Umm

I'm having an old whinging man moment. Not that I'm that old but there are times where the little things f**king irritate me. One in particular is that commonly abuse phrase, "um". There is nothing more irritating or insincere about a person who during conversation utters the word "um" after every third word. There was a very serious topic of conversation about violent men in relationships on the Wright Stuff this morning. I have been a witness to a 'so called' friend who hit his long term partner during a drunken argument and frankly, I walloped him in return and told him plainly that I would punch his lights out if he ever did that to her again. I couldn't believe he would do such a thing. Its amazing and shocking when you realise that just when you think you might know someone, you don't at all. I feel sorry for her in that she won't leave him. Back to the story. So after a time where the panel discussed their opinions on the subject, follows a phone in. As you can imagine some pretty traumatic accounts of women being physically abused. Shocking. Unfortunately there was one caller who kept uttering that word "um" after every third or fourth word. I found myself getting more and more irritated rather than listen to her tragic tale which incidentally was a very bad case of abuse. Yes, I did listen. Just. Next time your hear someone abuse the word "um" used too frequently in conversation, see how irritating you might find it.

Hit PC Plod and get £100 ....

Shocking isn't it. Forgot to mention the other bit. That's get £100 fine. Its very disturbing to here that the policy on assault of a police officer has changed from a 6 month jail sentence to a £100 fine. Now is that a on the spot fine? Or does the accused have to stand in court to receive it? In which case it'll cost a lot lot more to the tax payer. Even so, the madness of it all. Are these people stupid or something. By having a £100 fine must surely mean that it undermines the ability of the authorities to be effective in policing. Not only that but if you have the likes of that Chav Lottery Winner, Michael Carol, who clearly has a deep seated loathing of the law would have a field day. Let work it out. If he had a million left in the bank and a copper at £100 each, that would amount to 10,000 of our finest boys in blue looking black and blue. So to the police officer. What incentive does he/she have to go out on the beat knowing that his or her life is only worth £100. Bollocks to that!! I have a friend of mine who's a copper and he has just started the job (2 years in'ish). I, along with the rest of his family and friends are quite proud of what he has achieved and I hope he doesn't stop because of something like this but I wouldn't blame him if he did. Shocking....

What on Earth?

I'm confused. What happened to the Hoff during the TV break? He'd sobered up. What on earth did they give him as a pick me up? Coffee? Red Bull? Lucozade? Cocaine? or all of the above. Very strange. Still all the more entertaining if that was the case.

What has happened to David Hasselhoff?

I had not planned to wake up this morning to GMTV's Entertainment Today's special guest star presenter; David Hasselhoff. But I did. What on earth has happened to the poor man? Its a shame I can't show you a clip. He has clearly walked on set absolutely hammered. It must be the tell tale glazed eyes, the slurred speech and he just can't keep up with the conversation. He's a man who clearly missed his auto cue a couple times along with his bottle of hooch. This performance is surely up there with Oliver Reed and George Best on Parkinson. Well okay perhaps not quite as extreme. It is 8.45am in the morning. I mean how much Jameson's mouthwash can one use at that time of the day? Better still, he's going to sing his new song too. What are the chances of him miming to it?

OK a bit of live commentary, he's chatting up Jennie Falconer on live TV and not letting her getting on with the programme. She's finally asked what he thinks of the new movie 'Click' and he goes on about his life story!!!! Brilliant! The man is Mr Ego in the funniest possible way. It seems like every question he's asked not about himself ends up being about himself. So what do GMTV do but bring out the heavy weight; Richard Arnold. Who you may ask? Exactly!

Despite the intoxicated state (allegdly) that he's in, as the true, out and out professional that is the Hoff, he manages to handle (in the end) the auto cue with style. Go Hoff!!!

Barry and Cheriegate

I don't know what was in Barry Beef's drink last night but what a brilliant conversation. Not that I can remember too much of it.

Just a word Bazza, Cherie has no business in Tony's business. She gives the impression that Tony's not man enough to fight his own battles/demons. Hiding behind mummy's skirt. Awight son.

Down with Tony Blair and up with Caroline Lucas.

(actually this is a re-edit of the original post as upon reading it, it sounded like I had a touch of the old OCD. Oh and reading Bazza's article about Tony and Cherie, I revoke the above comment).

The Wright Stuff

Is the time for daytime TV as I have a few days off. So as I used to, I watched good old Matthew Wright on Five. One of the topics of conversation was about what would women prefer a "Rich Man or a Good Career?". Suprisingly the end poll ended about even. Bloody typical of a women eh. Want everything! For those who don't don't me. That was (very hastily typed in) a joke. More interestingly was the last caller. A man from Manchester who claimed that he was immensley wealthy and his girlfriend still worked. Matthew responded by asking him how much he was worth to which he replied he had £23 Million in the bank.

A couple of things to note.

1) Why is he watching 'The Wright Stuff'.
2) Anyone in their good mind wouldn't disclose that kind of information; especially if they are from Manchester.
3) The question was how much he was worth and not how much he had in the bank. Dunce!
4) He doesn't really have a girlfriend.
5) He doesn't really have £23 million in the bank or his worth.
6) He's probably like most of the Walter Mitties that watch the loan adverts between daytime TV and pretends that he's a millionaire in waiting.

I did say a couple of things didn't I. If you say points 1 to 3 in one sentence and 4 to 6, then those are my couple of points.

Interestingly, I have noticed how the word 'couple' in the context of 'a couple of minutes', is quite an abused word. When someone says 'a couple of days' for some, like myself, means literally two days. For others it means a small number of days, not less than two but no more than four. I know of a bloke at work who mentions what happened the night before, he refers to a whole nights session as having a couple of beers. Or an invitation for boozing would be, 'a couple of beers'. Or describing a technical problem that happened late at night, "the server went down and the network was playing up so I tried to do the best I could but I'd had a couple of beers so now nothing's working". Idiot.

Assume the Lotus Position

It started with a bizzare request from my little sister to diagnose a problem she had with uploading an mp3 track to her mp3 player. Being of the utmost professional, I diagnosed and provided a solution. My point being that upon listening to this mp3, which incidentally is a mediation sort of thing, I actually found better than rolling a big fat one. Highly recommended. Now where's my comission Sis? or friend of my Sis?

http://www.meditainment.com/free_guided_meditation/download.cfm

Fantastic Art

Or FART for short. I enjoy FART. It sets my mind (and my bowels) in motion when ever I view FART. My friend ImmenseSpace appreciates my FART as you may have seen in my previous blog entry. Earlier today while tidying up my bookmark of the usual kind of Consistently Rubbish Art Pieces (CRAP) that one accumulates over time I came across someone elses FART while is astoundly fantastic art (A FART). May I present Image Imagine. There are some genuinely creepy and odd FART.

FOR SALE

For sale. Black and White cat. Female. Not GSOH. Answers to the name of Poo Girl although recently self-christened, Pee Girl. Doesn't like jumping and all things most normal cats do. Is very affectionate though. Reason for sale? Pee'd on my brand new phone. Any offers welcome.

F**king Cats

F**king Cats. I normally write blog entries first thing in the morning with a cup of tea sitting up in bed. So when it was finally time to get up and contribute something to the world I thought I'd find my mobile to give my mate a call to see what she was up to for the day as she has a week off too. And what do I find? My mobile phone on the foot rest, in a puddle of cat pee!!!!! My new'ish phone too. Never have I felt so pissed off in such a long while. Be gone filthy feline!!!! As cat pee contains ammonia and uric acid, I have absolutely no hope whatsoever of recovering it. It was Poo Girl!! Does gender have any relevance in this matter? Not normally but right now yes!!!!Thankfully I've managed to salvage the SIM card but any contacts on the phone have long disappeared. So to those that I knew, Adieu! So Long! Nice knowing you.....

Non Allergic Pussy

Well I never!!! Scientist have bred a type of cat that doesn't cause an allergic reaction in humans. Hurrah. Now we can all have one of these cute little animals running around. I for one am a cat lover. I have two with very distinctive personalities. Poo Girl and Sick Boy (as they are known on the interweb). Wonderful creatures they are. So for the perecntage of the population that can now have one too, how much does it cost to buy one? Just over two thousand pounds. My moggies in contrast cost me next to nothing incomparison. Anyway, cost is nothing when you have such great companions.

Did anyone ever mention that although the scientists have bred out the allergic reaction it still doesn't stop them from ripping clothes and furniture, coughing up hairballs and pooping occassionally where they shouldn't????

BBC article here.

Angels

My good friend Immense Space appreciates the wonders of angels and fairys so I thought I'd mention an atypical feel good Sunday afternoon movie I finished watching a few moments earlier about a smoking, drinking angel. I have absolutely no idea what the film was about as it was background TV. There came a couple of moments where I did almost shed a tear. You know, you can feel it well up inside but the sensible part of you says its only a movie but then, just a little droplet appears out of the corner of your eye. That moment was when the dog got hit by a truck and the angel had to bring him back to life. Que dramatic music for hope and belief and voila! Sparky (the dog) lives!!!! Hooray!!! If no-one has guessed which movie I'm talking about then its "Michael" with Mr All Dancing If Slightly Chubby John Travolta; incidently doing pretty much the same sort of dance moves in Saturday Night Fever. I did mention one other moment of emotion, and that was when he died, not the dog, the angel.

In the name of Health and Fitness

I am waking up this morning with my left elbow in some considerable pain. Why might you ask? Its not because I did press ups. Not because of the bicep curls. Not because of the shoulder or leg presses. No. No. No. It was from carrying my bike after cycling three (level'ish) miles up one flight of steps! Yes one flight of steps. The only benefit I can see from this this is that bending elbow to a point is so painful that if I were tempted by a beer, it wouldn't reach my mouth. You may say that I still have the use of the other arm but I consider it a reminder for me not to grab that can of Kronenburg. At least I can still wipe my .............

Medical Care

Just brilliant. If I was as stupid as some people would like to believe or indeed I thought people were as stupid as they are then they would interpret a BBC headline:

"Healthy LunchBox Advice Offered".

For those who don't know why I find this line amusing. Its a euphemism for a man's wedding tackle/meat and two veg/twig and berries (for some)/The family Jewels/plenipotentiary instrument/turkey neck and gizzards.

Clicking on the link though show's that it has absolutely nothing to do with a man's sexual wellbeing but educational/health advice for kids's meals at lunch time.

Pause for Thought

Good Morning. I have had probably one of the most satisfying nights sleep in years. No. I didn't go out on the pull last night and pick up some lady. I'm talking about a couple of days without booze and fags doing wonders for my well being. Waking up happy and positive.

There was something that occured to me yesterday through some slightly difficult moments while resisting the urge to smoke or go for a drink. That was this. On average a man lives until about 79 years old (here in the UK). That's 28835 days. I have lived 11680 of those so far. I still have 17155 left. If I go by this average figure. With the life I had lived so far, it has been quite a thoughtless one. One day rolls into the next without any care or thought about what I am doing to myself or even for myself. I didn't particularly care about how much I was drinking or smoking until the following morning where I would cough and splutter like an old man and then continue the same routine later on the day. What I ate would amount to the same kind of shit that a pig would eat. I'm not about to preach just because I have seen what I have done to be so senseless as people should find out for themselves. So the moment came when doing this counting my days exercise that I thought, hang on a minute what if I set aside just 3 days of total commitment. No preparation. No reserving of 3 special days out in the country or away on holiday or locked in a padded room. Just that day, I decided to do it. No getting rid of ashtrays etc or the can of beer sitting in my fridge. Just do it. After all I'm always going to be surrounded by that sort of thing.

So here I am. Day 3. Lets see how I go.


Oh. One more thing. Some of you might be thinking, "what's the point in doing it for just three days?". Its three days that are the hardest. I read it somewhere. That's really up to me to find out now isn't?

Booze, Fags and Fitness

I mentioned the concept of getting fit. Working off that poundage around my mid portion. Is this what every thirty something thinks of? I can't recall ever, ever wanting to do that in my twenties but then again I was very much on the skinny side. A little too much for my liking but plenty of beer and late night junk food put that right. Too right. I'm in danger of doing completely the opposite by suggesting that I am taking my first tentative steps to stopping smoking. Just about two days and counting. Without forgetting to mention that I haven't drunk alchohol in as many days too. Already I am starting to understand that what I am feeling is not the anxiety of denying myself these pleasures but my bodys first realisation that it feels better and this is what it was like many years ago. To be without all the crap that continually dulled my senses. I am a little concerned that to maintain this way of life, at least for the first few months that I will need to shun the very friends that I would meet in smoky pubs. As long as I can keep up this healthy life style I'll be happy. I'll also be happy if they too can provide me with some of the support I might need should I feel tempted to do either of the two. I hope you understand Blarney (aka Pickle) and the Fox and my mate D.

Crappy movies and even crappier sci-fi movies

I spent a few moments just before writing this article about the number of women I may possibly offend. Then I thought this isn't about gender just about directors who don't know how to make great or even entertaining sci-fi films with the lead character being female. This afternoon I spent the best part of ninety or so minutes watching some of the worse type of sci-fi in a while. The actual worst still belongs to Battlefield 3000 which has a male lead character. Which I suppose is the only time a woman would actually agree in that context. The film I have been watching is "Ultraviolet". What a load of rubbish. There is no point explaining what the film is about except there are Vampires that they choose initially not to call a vampire but something scientific, a family tragedy, a barmy twist and too much testosterone in the lead female character. Milla Jovovich stars as the hero of the story. Frankly she was only ever great in on movie and that ws the Fifth Element. There's a moment where there is a standoff between the good gal and bad guy in which as she faces hundreds of bad guys, the main bad bloke says "Are you mental?". Would they honestly such a thing in the future? What a load of crap. Oh and a boy that just goes a little too far in the way of saying such wise words to the heroine. Utter rubbish. Another scene where a helicopter hovers above the dying boy and he says whats that sound to which she says its just the wind???!!!!! Since when?????? Utter tripe. Do I care whether she lives or dies? Nope. Finally, as for the acting. There was only one kind of acting that Milla Jovovich was good for and that was the ditzy character in the Fifth Element. Every other type of sci-fi she has starred in has not really worked. She just cannot act. Try the Resident Evil films. Same expression and same mannerism. She should've stuck to her day job. Before you ask; as a model.

That time of the Year

So it is with great joy and happiness that I take a moment to mention by once a year bike ride....to the local grocery shop about a half mile down the road and back again. To put things in context and make a little more sense. I would like to believe myself to be the reluctant keep fit fanatic. As a younger person I spent most of my spare time keeping fit, either going on hugely long cycle rides, at the gym, playing badminton etc.... Getting on that bike was great. The trouble with the part of London that I live in is that most cyclists take their life in their own pedals. Lets see if I can make cycling more than just a once a year event.....

Where on Earth....

What a night last night. I managed to virtually defy science and common sense last night with a series of spectacularly embarrassing feats starting with the most variety of drinks that I have ever had. Let me see if I can remember. Lager, red wine, tequila, something green, vodka, gin. How on earth did I manage to do that? I sit on my bed comprehensively hungover pondering what could have been. The night started off well with a beer with my friend Blarney who had been going through some grief at work so we hooked up for a chin wag. Later, I went for a "supposed to be" quick drink with my old boss who wouldn't stop talking about his sexual conquests. Quite depressing considering my circumstances and the fact that he has several on the go. As I was finishing off my glass of wine, my work colleague stopped for a quick drink and offered me a glass of wine which of course I had. Then I hooked up with some other work mates and so off we went to another pub. A quick one there and then off to somewhere in North London. A swanky club of sorts where the celebs hangout. I seem to remember seeing Jimmy Mistry (The bloke from East is East) and Sadie Frost (Jude Law's ex). I'm sure there were plenty more but my vision wasn't up to scratch at that point. I also seem to remember a pretty woman who I talked to for a while but by that stage I was well and truly gone. The last thing I remember was staggering around mumbling down the phone to my ex girlfriend. I wasn't talking english I don't think. I was talking beerglish. So I apologise to her. Is this what singledom amounts to? During the process of drinking, everything seems to be reasonable and justified. Post drinking brings along kebab and chips followed by the passing out ceremony. The morning after is an exercise in self regret and recollections of cringe worthy moments. Another night that I totally ruined for myself. Maybe I should actually follow the advice of my good friends and that is to stop boozing, stop smoking and start getting fit rather than behaving like a right plank.

Its not what you think.....Honestly.

I found this old bookmark that I originally got from an old university friend of mine.

http://www.foxsearchlight.com/lab/shorts/farmsluts/quicktime.html


Enjoy!!!!

Pointless Evening

Yesterday like any day. Wake up, feel awful. Do the three S's. For those who don't know. A shit, a shower and a shave. Actually make that two. Shaving is an occasional thing. Get to train station hoping attactive woman is also there. Get to work. Have a dose of coffee and a bottle of Lucozade. Have lunch and work some more. Look forward to finishing work for the day and contemplate what to do with my time afterwards.

I've been a little better of late of resisting the temptation of visiting the local public house for a pint or two. Yesterday however was one of those days where the auto pilot within magically took me to the bar. I order my pint with the intention of leaving soon after that. Instead I struck up a conversation with the barman which meant a few more pints. Smiled at an attractive lady with the thought that she might be interested. Clearly not had enough booze to have the courage to strike up a conversation. A friend came to the bar and we had a conversation, by this time I was running on alchohol. Decided to have a swift drink (by this time had a little too much) at another pub. Realised how pissed I was and not in a fit state to take public transport home, my friend flagged down a cab and poured me into it (to which I am grateful). Grabbed a kebab on the way home and attempted to eat it. Polished off some wine and fell asleep. Woke up this morning and for the first time in a while I realised how extremely pointless it was to have got so drunk and to which I wondered what positive effect drinking so much had on me. The consequence of the previous nights boozing left me in a delicate state so I pursued a cocktail of coffee and lucozade. The thing that got me was ,as I boarded the lift to get to the cafeteria I cursed as the lift stopped one floor down, and in came a rather attractive, mature lady who was extremely friendly. Normally I wouldn't have a problem initiating some flirtation but I felt about as useful as a a fart in a spacesuit. As the day progressed the hangover took its time to disapate. Far too long for my liking. Then I recieved an email from a lady friend who I suspect clearly has the hots for me who invited me for a drink. The brain just couldn't cope anymore. I need to politely put that off for another day. In all honesty I think that relationships in the work place don't work. It wouldn't for me.

A challenge to the bloke who wrote in earlier about dating

Okay Mister dating advisor. I've got one for you. As my recent status as the single man, I have like all single men the idea of dating an attractive lady. Picture this scenario. I wait every morning like so many others at the train station for the train to work. A fine looking lady has recently caught my eye. Obviously I have no idea whether she's married or partnered with someone or single. Instinct says she might be single. So everyday I contemplate the approach to striking up a conversation. But how on earth does one attempt light flirtation with the goal to asking her out on a date? A little while back I went to a friends monthly get together (a party for the intellectuals I think) where I struck up a conversation with a nice person. Exercising my charm and wit I got along with her rather well. At the end of the night I volunteered to make sure she got on the train home safely. At some point of the conversation she commented that I might be a "player" which to me was a leftfield complement. I have never ever been called a player. Somethings just come later in life for some. Anyway, to put you in the picture I think I am reasonably good at charming certain types of the opposite sex. The challenge in this particular scenario is chatting up a complete stranger at 8.45 in the morning which to be completely honest is a little difficult as most people are rather looking forward to a cup of coffee to wake them up than to get chatted up by a stranger. So Mr dating advisor, I put that one on you......

Stupidity and other irritations

Lets get one thing straight. I have in the past done and said some pretty stupid things so with that statement I'd put that down to human nature. Indeed as someone once said, to err is to be human. Actually I have no idea who said that. The other day I went to my local pet store (of dubious practices) and patiently waited for service. There was a pregnant lady (not that it is of any consequence to this story) who was enquiring about kittens.

Stupid remark number one from the customer: "Yeah how much are those kittens? Do they catch mice at that age? I don't like mice. There's one in my house and I need a cat to kill it."

Returning stupid remark from the shop assistant showed no awareness about what the customer had just said and continued talking about what she would need to buy for the kitten.

I was absolutely gobsmacked! It was only the pregnant lady's friend that inject sheer commonsense to the half witted customer that perhaps that shouldn't be the only reason to by a kitten. Even at this point the shop assistant didn't even agree. I was quietly furious. I have been thinking of purchasing my pet food for my cats and fish elsewhere ever since. What a callous attitude towards selling animals responsibly. It still winds me up thinking about it. Come to think of it, Doctors actually advise against pregnant women living in close proximity to cats as a bacterial infection from a scratch could seriously harm the baby. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Irritation

I came home this evening and as per usual check my email hoping to hear from someone interesting. Instead I got an email from some bloke who "read" my blog. "Cool" I thought. Some has taken the time to read it. And quite a nice complement to have been told that he'd booked my blogsite. He even recommended looking at his own. All about internet dating. I smelt something suspicious in his apparently sincere email. Of course I took the time to read a snippet of his blog; which read like a bloody advertising feature for dating. This advise is free and to anyone who wishes to read it then be my guest but I won't bother putting a link or a mention on my site as I don't wish to line someone elses pockets......On the other hand I could be wrong and I will apologise. I think the former is likely. Thanks for the complement though and if whoever you are wishes to put something a little more personalised rather than a lot of self help techniques which to me sound like someone elses work than you own then perhaps I might re-visit your site.

Getting a little older

Found my first grey chest hair this morning. How depressing.

My friend the Policeman

Its funny how things turn out. I sent an SMS to an old friend of mine who I haven't seen in a while to catch up on the past, present and future. We met at school when we were about twelve/thirteen years old I think and remained the best of friends until about the time I headed off to university where we still stayed in contact; I even became Godfather to his daughter. But as time moved on and obligations like girlfriends, career and ambition took over we saw less of each other until one of us or both had lost contact details. Years went by and I ocassionally wondered what he might be up to. Then thanks to modern technology and a a certain website called Friends Re-united, I found an message from him in my mailbox.

Fast forward to the near present.

After eight years of being out of contact, we met for a couple of beers in Chav city (Croydon). That was great. Nothing really changed apart from a slightly expanded waist and some bad habits (smoking). At the time he was training to be a policeman, which now that I think about it was probably the right move for him. He always had that 'strong arm of the law' about him.

Two years passed. I split up with my lady and all of a sudden there was room in my mind to think about all the people I hadn't seen in a while and the first person I could think of was my friend the policeman. We arranged to meet for a few beers yesterday. Just like old times. Really good fun and great to know that he passed his training and became a proper policeman. There was a sense of pride when I introduced my friend to some of my other friends at the local drinking establishment. Good on you mate!

My Best Friends Wedding

No not the film. Please! I'm talking about a lovely friend of mine who's getting married at the end of this year. She and I had lunch today and we talked about Hen nights and Stag nights. I'm going to her fiance's stag night which is guaranteed to be a laugh and a half. Having said that she did invite me to her Hen's night out which if I was gay that it would be another matter. Given that they are planning to go to pole dancing lessons I should have taken up the offer. All those women swivelling their hips and shaking their......

The poor lass however near as damned asked me to convince her beloved one not to go to a strip club. Considering where it is we are going, I am certain that may not be on the cards. I've had other mates girlfriends/wifes to be saying pretty much the same thing. Why is that? Traditionally the whole point of a stag night is to keep the future missus guessing how there mates are going to lead him astray! I happened to mention to her that it was his final night as a single man which clearly was not the right thing to say. The thing is, these things never amount to a final night of debauchery. More like a bunch of friends making sure the groom doesn't choke to death on his own vomit. Getting arrest by the police is okay though. :-)

So to my dear lady friend, don't worry. He has only one thing on his mind and that is you.

Singledom

Just before I embraced being single again, a friend of mine warned me against the pitfalls of being single. I found that bit of advice a little tactless to say the least and a reflection on his own circumstances. Unlike his predicament, my ex-girlfriend and I ended on good terms. Well as good as it gets considering the circumstances. The comment did however do its job. It made me think about it. Something that clearly didn't warrant too much thought initially but as time has come to pass, he might have been partly right. Of course people feel this way when they are alone. I think it was more a way of suggesting something about the kind of person I am. For the people that know me, I am a sociable person. I think it was the sociable person inside me that probably caused problems in the first place. Now that the life is that is singledom, I find it quite fulfilling. More time to reflect, more time to pursue women.....I'm only joking. Sometimes things just don't work out. That's it. No more explaining to do.

There are people in this world that can spend an eternity wondering why. Why? Every failed relationship (if that is the most important thing in ones life) is part of a learning process. It teaches people more about themselves than about others. Some people take an age to find out who they really are and what they really want. I have some friends that have resigned themselves to be single for the rest of their lives. Once upon a time I found that really strange. Why would anyone be happy to be single for the rest of their lives? Then I asked the question, what satisfies them so much so that there isn't any need or any room for anyone else? (Masturbation or a dildo. Only joking). Companionship. Its sounds like something an old person (i.e. over 60) would say. You may gasp in shock and horror at the last comment and so for anyone older than 60 reading this blog, I do apologise. I will look back at my blog in years to come and probably regret saying that. I think the essence of a relationship is not just about the initial physical attraction (am I stating the obvious?) but about feeling some satisfaction of knowing ones self and being happy about it that makes a relationship work. Everything else falls into place. They say that being in your thirties are one of the best times of your life. Indeed there are forty/fifty and beyond, something year olds that can say the same. Does this sound like the rantings of a thirty something year old with an optimistic look on life? Perhaps. But then again, I've always been optimistic.

Blair today, gone tomorrow

So it starts. First it was just the one. Tom (the peoples politician and the one with the tasty missus) Watson handing in his notice. Now five more. At this rate we should have the majority of government ministers handing in their resignation letters with giving Mr Blair a chance to utter the words, in the style of Alan Sugar "YOU'RE FIRED!!!".

Boxing part 2

Bloody hell, I'd only just finished typing the last entry and the match was already over. It took Amir Khan about one minute and fifty one seconds to demolish him. Money's worth? No. A supreme fighter? Possibly. Most likely. Better than Nasim Hamed? Most definitely. One has to ask a question. Are all the fighters that are put his way just Hoodies or juvenile criminals trying to go straight? I want to give Khan credit for his talents as a boxer. All I'll say is lets see. I think a few more long distance fights under his belt and a good title fight will see him written in history....unlike Nasim Hamed who's poseur mentality destroyed his career against Barrera.

One more thing. He wasn't set for eight rounds. This is his last six rounder. Next time its a nine.

Ok. Testosterone blog entry over.

Boxing

I'm a fan of boxing and Saturday evening was boxing night. Clinton Woods and Glyn Johnson's light heavy weight match was absolute classic boxing. Unfortunately I missed some of the game because I was watching a DVD. I saw the latter half and what a match! Technically not the best but just like playing a boxing game on the Xbox, an out and out pummelling. I thought round eight Johnson had it. A couple of right hooks followed by some well planted lefts left the champion Woods at the point of no return. From nine onwards Woods had it. Class. Calzaghe for the next one. Can't wait. Lets hope Amir Khan delivers in his usual lightening style. Just don't do a Hamed eh? He's fighting Ryan Barrett from Thamesmead. Barrett reckons like so many others that he's going to win. Really. We'll see. Having said that he is a southpaw so there's are fair chance he could do some damage. Amir's first fight to nine rounds. I'll update after the match........

Out for a Duck

The local shop keeper Mr Shah has been trying to get me to go to this bar with a heavy indian theme to it. Now for the people who know me I am reasonably far removed from indian culture and society with the irony that I am from indian origin. I have had comments such from foolish people saying "you're more white than asian". Bloody idiot. But then again this particular individual was a bit little mutton dressed up as lamb. I.e. a racist bigot who thought as long as he had an asian friend, he could say that he wasn't racist. How stupid is that. He'd say that he doesn't hate indians, just all other races. Idiot.

Anyway, back to the point of this article. So yesterday afternoon I went down to my local paper shop to buy a bus pass for the day to get a super duper filter for my tropical fish tank (it really is super duper!) and Mr Shah mentioned my missus, who unfortunately is now ex-missus (missus can also be a term for long term partner, not necessarily married for those who don't know the term), to which I replied that we were no longer an item. Seeing that I was in need of cheering up (which I wasn't actually, I was in a hurry to get the super duper filter) he mentioned this bar again. Now this bar is a four minute walk away from my house. A real local pub/bar. But as I mentioned before, I tend to shy away from indian cultural events if I can help it. However I'm always the optimist and will always give things another go, and I must admit I was feeling rather sorry for myself. So I agreed to meet him and his mates at an agreed time. I installed the filter and watched it filt with much glee. Certainly the Piranha were much happier. Time ticked away until the 8.15pm time we agreed arrived. So with leadened legs (I felt quite reluctant to go) and a choice between staying at home miserable and enjoying some unfamiliar company, I went. Nothing really suprised me to be honest. It was what I expected. Sitting with a bunch of people that I didn't know, and I'm the sort of person that can mingle quite easily, who I couldn't really converse with. It didn't help that they were all playing an indian version of trumps. So I glugged on my pint, made some small talk, listened to the live band. As I sat there in relative isolation I began to realise something about me. For example about fishkeeping. Piranha, especially Red Bellied Piranha are one of a few species that need to be kept in shoals for safety in numbers but also because it is there natural instinct to do so. In the same way that I too prefer the company of others rather than prolonged periods of solitude. Perhaps that'll change over time.

Later during the night as the possibility of conversation was getting more and more less likely I managed to end up having a game of pool with another strange group of people. Strange not in the weird sense but strangers. I'd consider myself a averagely good player and fancied my chances to whip ass. But how wrong I was. 3-0 down and two pints up, I got into my rythmn and came back to 3-3. He decided to call it a night. So I sat back down and pretty much well did nothing but drink. By this time I was starting to feel a little woosy. So to finish me off I took a vodkka and tonic before waving everyone fairwell and suggesting that I would turn up the following night. They probably shuddered at the thought as I exited the door. I walked home in my version of a straight line and rather than stop off for an unhealthy kebab, I thought I'd eat something at home.

Clearly having to much of the hooch damaged my sense of rational thinking as there was one food item that I was bannned from ever cooking. Not eating but cooking while my dear ex-beloved was with me. A certain indian delicacy by the name of Bombay Duck. Not a duck but a fish, living off the west coast of india usually along shipping lanes and docks feeding off all the crap put into the sea, rather like prawns. These are dried and cured in the hot baking heat of the indian sun and packed off to Blighty. Here until recently it was banned for apparently health reasons. No the actual truth behind it was of the side effects of frying/grilling it. The smell. What a smell!! It was all the rage in 70's Britain. Most Indian restaurants would do it much to the dismay of local residents. Don't get me wrong, it is an aquired taste and just like marmite, you either love it or hate it. I happen to love it. They sell Bombay Duck in limited quantities in this country again to the ban being lifted. I think a politician had something to do with. He'll get my vote next time (what even if he is a member of the BNP I hear you cry? Not likely eh!). I got my supply from Southampton about three years ago. My god you gasp, how on earth could it possibly be edible you might ask? Especially when you consider that it has remained this way for that long in but only a plastic bag. So with 2Dart's boozy wisdom, I put it under the grill, staggered to the toilet, made a mumbling call to the ex and then munched down the bombay duck.

Think of a moderately bad hangover and add the most pungent smell you can think of (if you have never smelt Bombay Duck being cooked) and you are in exactly the same position as I was this morning. To top it off, I seem to remember crunching away at it while wandering around in the bedroom! Whoah! The stench was unbelievable. So earlier this morning it was extreme incense burning with my favorite smell, Opium. Don't worry its not the real deal, its a bit like beef flavoured crisps, there's not really any beef in them.

Don't attempt to cook Bombay Duck when drunk, or at anytime, ever at home.

p.s. further research concludes that it was indeed a business man and not an MP who had the EU ban lifted on the import of the fish in question. Mr David Delany, I thank you.

Making someone feel better

I'd just like to make a quick mention about a friend of mine who has been down in the dumps recently. The most miraculous thing is that she took some advice from me and it worked. I'll tell you something, that normally doesn't happen, someone listening and acting on my advice that is.

At least I have been of some help. So thank you......you know who you are.

A Bush in the Hand is worth two in the Bird

I woke up to the silliest arguement on the news today about a certain TV dramatisation of George W. Bush being assassinated in 2007 during an anti-war rally. It was said by some to be irresponsible. How? For one, I cannot see how Doublya could ever attend or address and anti-war rally. Come on. The man believes he knows what he is doing! Secondly the article states that it may prompt people to carry out an assassination on him. What!!??!! How come I didn't think of that? Wow! Can you imagine all those would be assassins with that thought dawning on them. This programme could be used for educational purposes.


A Typical Scenario

Assassin flicking on the news to a newsreader with a nasally voice

Newsreader: "Today, UK TV channel More4 have been highly criticised and called irresponsible for televising a dramatised mooovie about our President George doublya Bush being assassinated in an anti-war march rally in Chicago 2007. It has been widely condemned by many of his ally (deliberate) Tony Blair and a few other less interesting leaders."

Assassin(1) to other assassin(2): "Jheezesus Bob, will yah check thad oud. Ya know we aint had no jaaaabss recentleeee. Whada great idea."

assassin(2): "Whaddya mean Toniee? That'll nev-voi woirk!"

assassin(1): "Why Bob?"

assassin(2): "What day is it Toniee?"

assassin(1): "Err da foist of September"

assassin(2): "Exactly. Der pullin yoir leg! Its like April fools day but in da Fall"

assassin(1): "Ah oh, okay Bob"

The telephone rings and Tony picks up the phone and listens to the person speaking and puts the phone down again.

assassin(1): "I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT. IT KNEW ALL ALONG!!! Hey Bob. Dat was da Boss. He says we gadda do a hit on the president. I knew it was a good idea."

assassin(2): "Okay, okay Toniee. Calm down. When is this programme on? We gadda learn some stuff off of dat."

The truth of it all is that isn't blindingly obviously that the man (as much as I think is a twat) is constantly under threat from a would be assassination. If anything, fine programmes such as '24' have as much 'damaging potential' as the next film/drama about the assassination of a president. Come to think of it. They should have banned Microsoft's Flight Simulator as it was believed that the suicide hijackers of the planes that hit the WTC and Pentagon used it to train.

Just one more thing. I've realised that my title sounds a little rude. If its doesn't then thats okay. I know of a certain Barrys Beef who would.