Sunday Newspapers and Global warming.

Sunday newspapers are geared towards the majority of people who wish to pass a sunday by reading all day. Welll alright you can't really stretch a tabloid all day. Probably more like ten minutes. Another thing about newspapers is that supposedly one can tell a person's character by the kind of paper they read. Wrong. I don't really take life too seriously so my daily consumption of news is the old tabloid favorite "The Sun". Read by many a brick layer, scaffolder, plumber....you get my drift. The same old stereo type of readers. How unfortunate. I find the many of the articles to be quite entertaining. Just what you need for any morning of the week day. It has to be said that I wonder what a stranger would think of that? Would they turn their nose up at me just for reading such "rubbish"? Perhaps. On the other hand I am rather partial to The Independant on Sunday and occasionally during the week. Why? It is probably because I have joined the growing band of people concerned with the environment. And the Independant focuses a portion of its news on such matters. Today's sunday edition however is going a little to far and like much of the media plays on the fears of people about current affairs of the world. The head lines read "Tsunami horror hits Britain". I caught the head line with a glance and thought "Have I missed something?" and "shouldn't I be at least eighteen of water under?". Further inspection concluded a little line underneath with the date "5 November 2060". That would make me 86. Reading further the article presented itself as a textual version of the film "The Day After Tomorrow". I'd rather slap on that kind of film than read the article. More so that I find this kind of scare mongering a little too much. Now don't get me wrong because I would like to regard myself as an environmentally conscious person and do as much as I can for recycling efforts, water, electricity and gas saving and walk a lot more often therefore avoiding the use of polluting vehicles. This kind of writing sensationalising much of the reality and gravity of the world we live in may have honest and sincere intentions but will it change the minds of the capitalist society we live in let alone the major contributors of the world to global warming? Not any time soon. There are suggestions that the efforts of reversing the effects are a little too late. If that is so then perhaps while still trying to rebalance what mother nature once gave us perhaps we should look to saving ours selves by looking to protect ourselves from the inevitable.

I cannot help but think that while nature is struggling counter against all the pollution we create, if we were to suddenly stop damaging the planet that nature would not be able to cope with such another dramatic shift and therefore over compensate for the change creating an equally if not more harmful world to live in.

I do fear for the generations after me and for what they may say about all of us in the year 2060. They may say that we were the ones who killed the planet and we did nothing to stop it. In fact it will be the planet that eventually kills us in the process of undoing all the harm that we have done to it by bringing back the balance of what the planet was hundreds or thousands of years ago. Ice ages and tropical periods of pre-history prove this. That however took millions of years over many cycles of heat and cold. A little like spring cleaning.

The mysteries of attracting women.

The sudden irony of how much of pain in the arse advertisments by email about guides on how to attract women suddenly have a use in the world. I for one shudder at the though of reading advice from such sources. Probably because the source is American and you'd have to put on a mock accent to really make it apply to you. Not forgetting the hammy kind of enthusiasm you'd get from an american commerical (think of the Cillit Bang advert and you get my drift) and a recipe for total failure. Ah but have you tried it? you may ask. No. Have I read the literature, of course I have. Some of it before hurting myself for laughing so hard.

No I have a friend I shall call Romeo Tony. For obvious reasons I shall explain. Romeo Tony is one of those blokes who quite obviously knows the tricks of the trade when it comes to attracting the opposite sex. He is tall, dark in an italian kind of way and dashingly handsome. In fact I was witness once to Romeo Tony turning on the charm to such a level that I thought he was reciting something from one of those books. For a bloke to listen to another bloke chatting up a woman is the most hilarious thing ever. Especially if you know them rather well. So should I say know of their notoriety. But it worked. The lady in question on que flicked her hair, turned her body towards him and fluttered her eyes. Bingo. Oh and this all happened in the space of an evening and I dare say, a cheap one. For him.

So Romeo Tony's advice to me for the stag weekend amounted to something I cannot say as it stays in the brotherhood I'm afraid. Let me just say that it involves commitment and sacrifice. One of which not normally associated with Romeo Tony :-). He know what I'm talking about and the sacrifice helped me with the result I was looking for.

Thanks Romeo Tony.

Brighton Part III

Forgive me for the chunk sized pieces of the weekend's events. Its just the sheer scale of it all and excesses.

First up on a cold and hungover morning was a greet the rest of the chaps. Some of whom had already consumed a number of beverages of the alchoholic kind. A little nervous and apprehensive. I don't know why. And I think the only one apart from the best man not to have known the masons fraternity. We arrived at our destination quite some distance from Brighton to the sound of the pop and crack of shotguns being fired. I think at this point everyone shared a smile with each other at the prospect of some shooting and doing men like things.

I was asked if I had ever fired a gun to which I replied that I once belonged to a rifle club. Only for a year which I excluded from the conversation of course. The best man had also fired a handgun. Worrying as he once used to live in a notorious part of Manchester. Either that or he mean't a Nintendo handgun. Even more worrying. An finally one more chap who looked like he'd spent most of his life shooting things. He had belonged to a gun club and I suspected for much longer than I.

To the first discipline we walked. The first blow of the day was that the instructor had mentioned the gun had been setup for right handed shooters. As you can tell I am not. As might turn for the clay pigeon shooting came up I realised that this was either going to work or not for me. And true to form I missed all five of the discipline. Suffice to say the other discipline's faired better and at one point I managed four out of five.

Quad biking was more my thing I supposed as there was a lack of left/right handed bias. I was ready to go and true to form adopted all the style of Prost/Senna/Mansell etc as I approach the lines until a mann dropped out and the order in which we drove had to change. I should've mentioned that we weren't allowed to overtake. While the instructor told me to stay stationary my other two friends zoomed ahead. They were reprimanded for it but like I said the order had now changed so that I was effectively the rear gunner. No matter. I found that a better challenge as now I could really pretend race against my mates. Super at how I took the inside line powering out early to almost overtake and then easing off. Great fun.

Evening was also a fun affair of many pints of beer being drunk and some womanising on my part. But I will say that it was a more James Bond type affair rather than a drunken yobbish attempt at chatting up some woman. Indeed some of new found friends will tell you that I was rather smooth. I managed to keep the lady entertained for at least two hours before she left...but not before a polite smooch.

Sunday. Hangover. Breakfast. Beer. Sunday afternoon, more beer. Sunday evening even more beer. Sunday night, home and bed. Monday morning, got to work on time. Monday mid-late afternoon, had to go home.

Thank you Big Nut and all the other chaps for a most excellent weekend.

Brighton Part II

Great weekend. Especially for the groom. I made lots of friends that weekend and got to know much more about myself. I hope the bride had as much fun considering that she is also one of my best friends too. I usually tend to have nicknames for all the people that I mention in my blog and because she is just my **** (not a rude word I'll have you know), I'll give her a temporary nickname; Sweetie. That is until she approves or disapproves. So I hope Sweetie has had a very enjoyable hen night as much as Charlie Brown (Groom). Or should I say "Big Nut". I can't wait for the wedding. It'll be a moment to remember.

Brighton Part I

My social circle expanded by about seven at least. I will briefly describe the scenario. Beer, fags, shooting and quad biking, strip club and club.....in Brighton. One new found friend in particular said something that clearly escaped my attention about the hippies of Brighton. He described them as middle class hippies. A good observation. What do modern day hippies do? Where did they come from? What happens after the thrill of it passes over? Being a hippy is in a traditional sense, is about being at odds with the commercial way of life. Breaking away from middle-class'ism. But middle class suggests a standard or way of life which tries to a little bit working class and to appease the upper class. So basically an arse licker with no character whatsoever. This observation is not an opinion that I've just pulled out of the hat. No. This is by example of a few people I know. Those people who try far too hard to be both posh and earthy at the same time.....very, very badly. I know of a person who I used to work with that is a shining example of middle-class'ism. Guaranteed to be so predictable to have a suitable accent depending on the company kept. If its a working class group then a cockney accent it is. Further up the chain the posher the accent becomes..........I shall continue tomorrow as frankly the weekend has caught up with me. 2Darts signing off...

Women.

After the last post I'm inclined to stop all female contact. For now. Perhaps's its because i'm in this current, beautiful women everywhere, maelstrom. Would I have found certain people attractive then when I was in a relationship? Yes. Can I justify what I think of them now? Not at all. Because all kind of reason has left me in this hellish place I call Singledom. Is there a Bridget Jones equivilent for a man? Perhaps I'm taking the first tentative steps towards being one. How depressing. And just to feel completely sorry for myself, I announce that nothing will happen this evening. I won't meet anyone. Or even cop a snog. Oh woe Singledom. Oh you silly man you might say. This isn't what its all about. But try telling that to someone who hasn't had a shag in a while! Only kidding. I guess I'm just not cut out being single. A serial relationship'ist perhaps. I don't know.

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.