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.

American Football Hooliganism

One can argue that I haven't looked hard enough for any reports of American football hooliganism and you might be right as it has been a struggle to find some hard evidence of it happening in the land that is the U.S. of A. Which is case in point that there are more persistant instances reported of this happening in the UK and some parts of europe. It seems the bit of information I found written by this american finds the word hooligan synonymous with english football (soccer). He does however suggest that there are quite a lot more instances of violence in US sports as a whole.

Any similar kinds of acts of violence in american soccer are referred to as causing 'mayhem'. Mayhenism sounds a little bit more civilised.

I found this site which had some interesting views. Check it out.

Football Madness

Football. What is it good for? Beer, tribal togetherness, racism and violence.

Not my opinion but observation. Stamping out the latter two I think is nigh on impossible. What a shame. So my interest in football is of the average person. I watch the internationals and european champions league. Nothing more, nothing less. So with all good intention a good friend of mine lent me a DVD. A educational video called I.D. (only joking). I thought that Green Street was a pretty good look at football hooliganism with a nice touch being the american in with a bunch of football tossers. Do they get this sort of thing with American football? Dunno. I'll have to research that later.

Last night I got back from a very wonderful day with two really good friends of mine who fed and watered me and took me for a walk too (woof). It was about ten o'clock in evening and usually a time where I wouldn't bother watching anything too taxing but I felt compelled to watch this movie 'I.D' as my friend put it, "you'll like this" said with a twinkle in his eye. There are three things I liked about the film by the time it finished. The very eighties feel to it, a who's who cast before they were pseudo famous (many of which now or have starred in Eastenders) and its unashamed glamourisation of football hooliganism which cleverly ends in very realistic depravity. It says everything about the first line in this article.

Not all is Black and White

I thought a morbid start to the day this morning with something about soon to be released film, Black Dahlia. The horrific murder of an aspiring hollywood actress who's career was cut short (no pun intended) in 1947. She was cut in half and slashed across the face and then her naked body dumped. Truely horrific. Although there were many arrests no one was ever convicted of the crime to this day.

Unsolved murders are never pleasant as we know in good old blighty. Jack the Ripper? Still no idea about his identity either. What I personally find most disturbing of all is really the minds of some ordinary people who choose to make millions out of something so distressing. I'm not going to moan and groan about this too much as people tend to do as they please as long as it is seen as being morally acceptable. Does it make it acceptable to take pictures of Princess Diana and then to later publish the pictures? Not even Hello and OK! readers would find that acceptable (although a certain Italian magazine though it was).

Jack the Ripper spawned countless good, bad and damn right atrocious TV movies and cinema film releases. Nearly every single person involved with the production of every movie stands to profit from it. Profit from a murder (or two). Its as bad as walking to the tourist trap in East London and some old chancer looking to make a quick buck sets up a make shift stall with the sign "Jack the Ripper Tours Here". Some people will say, "well you've got to make money somehow". I'm not trying to say that every single person has made profits from 'immoral' earnings. A story has to be told as each and everyone of us has a sense of morbid curiosity to listen to it. That should be down to someone who can maintain the integrity of the facts and not glamourise/hollywoodise it.

Black Dahlia is I believe the first effort from Hollywood to describe the terrible events that happened. Will I go and see it? Maybe. Probably not. Why? The murder was sensationalised back then and it is now. Going to the principles I described earlier, why give this tragic crime a second look. Why not a film about Stephen Lawrence or Damilola Taylor?

A Particular type of humour

Its cool knowing who's had a peek at my blog. Recently I came across one that I think appeals to Barrys Beef's sense of humour. Bring on school boy humour. Check it out at Bloogge. There's not much there but I hopefully in time Bloogge may post some more dubious jokes.

Going Down....Under

Great things these 3G phones. You can listen to music streaming from the network, watch videos, play games and read the news. It was doing the latter than I came across an article that will surely get some blokes reaching for there wallets.

An australian brothel is offering discounted petrol everytime they use their ehm, services. Its twenty cents off per litre. How does that work? Hey I don't have a car so I don't care. So for all you tight fisted blokes out there...........this is one boast about money saving idea I'm sure you won't be telling your wife!

Speaking of brothels, as I searched for a suitable picture to go with this bit of writing, I came across the wikipedia entry for the word brothel. Here are some of the more amusing terms for this place of dubious business practices....

bagnio, bawdy, house, (also used as a legal term) bordel (from the French), bovril, cathouse, chicken house - Cantonese literal translation common-house*, creep, crib, drum, flash-house, flesh-shambles, gaff, harlot-house, hook shop, hot house*, house of ill/evil repute/fame, house of accommodation, house of assignation, house of joy, house of horizontal refreshment, joy-house, juke, kip, knocking-shop, leaping house, love shack, nunnery*, public house, rap club, rib-joint, slaughter-house, smuggling-ken, sporting-house, stew, trugging house/place, vaulting house

Bovril???? Isn't that a tasty beefy drink?

Drum? I can just imagine granpa as he walks out of the house his wife says, "now where are going out at this time of the night?" to which the reply, "going out for some drum." Odd.

Nunnery??? More like blasphemy!!

Public House??? Even worse! I used to go to the Pub after work!!!! Sometimes at lunchtime!

Smuggling-Ken. I only know of one Ken and he's a mean Scottish bloke and you wouldn't want to be doing any funny business with him.

Kip? Slang for sleeping surely?

House of accommodation? My mate Dave goes to one every night as he lives too far away to do the commute. Oh Dave. What have you been up to. And to think I really thought when you said "I'm going back to my accommodation" you really mean't the other type of accommodation!

Girls Aloud

An amendment to my list of who's who on Love Island. Cheryl Tweedy (Cole) and Sarah Harding, Nadine Coyle and Kimberly Walsh........Oh forgot one more, not from Girls Aloud; Sarah Clarke. The one from 24. I sound like a bloody 17 year old with hormone overload. Perhaps its an expression of my single status now. I wonder how long it'll take to get it out of my system.

The Day after the Bank Holiday...

Having a slighlty better mood than usual, I made myself a cuppa and logged onto to my PC to check the usual. Weather, news, sport. All the usual average drivel. So far so good. I fed the cats and Piranha. Everyones happy. Postman throws something through the letter box so I went to see what wonders I have been sent. Bills. Not just one or two and then some form of fan mail. Nope. Every letter that landed on my doormat is a bill. Time to start looking at those websites offering money for body parts. Kidney anyone?

My Painting..and a final comment for tonight....

Just a little point about my painting. The woman you see there is not a real person. For those who might ask the question. No. I didn't have a real model posing for me for the painting. Just imagination, with a little bit of help. The other final comment for the night is that I am currently watching 'The 25th Hour' starring Ed Norton. A few years ago, he was labelled as the next DeNiro. What ever happened to the geezer (Norton not DeNiro)? Most importantly, that is a very unfair comparison. Actors/Actresses should be able to earn there own merits.

Hugging Saint

Some time ago, my mum mentioned to me that there was a lady in town known as the Hugging Saint. As some of you know, I am not religiously inclined but I couldn't help think about the positive impact that this wonderful woman has by the very gesture, no, belief that hugging someone sometimes is all they need to feel better about world and can help themselves through the bad times.

Just that physical act can make the difference. I have and have done to friends and family at a time of need and this is all that requires to wake up the next morning feeling a little more positive about the world. There is so much comfort from such a simple act that the world can be a better place. Of course gender comes into this equation.

Some men have a beer and bond. Some women talk (which I think is an amazing gift that men don't really have) and hug each other. We all have our own way of resolving differences or to express what we feel. All of which ends in a conclusion. A settlement. A type of satisfaction. Which ever way works. If we did more of these things, perhaps our lives could feel more content. I'm probably rambling on. Time to switch off. Good night.

Turkish Bomb blasts

Just a moment to mention what has happened in Turkey. I watched the news earlier on about the bomb blasts in Turkey. Words cannot describe how terrible this act of terrorism has been towards a clear target. Tourists. Whether british or otherwise, this kind of insanity just shows how the perpitrators have lost touch of the concept of humanity and togetherness. Ironically there was a question on the bbc news website about multiculturism, does it work? Of course it does. I live in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and most of us live in wonderfully diverse communities where friends are friends and people meet people. I have many friends from a wide range of cultures and social backgrounds. I believe that each one of us depends on the other to broaden our appreciation of the diversity that exists in our great city and country. Why stop it? Of course there is going to be some pain with being unfamiliar with custom and culture but if we can share, appreciate and respect those things that make us unique, perhaps we can all grow with and enjoy what we as human beings are about. Shame on those people that prevent this from happening. Shame on them for teaching the very children that will shape our future with their own prejudices. A real damn shame.

Love Island

What a laugh Love Island has been. Don't get me wrong. I refused to watch it out of reality TV overdose. I'm glad I didn't watch all of the seven weeks that it was on for. Just the highlights tonight. The arguments, the tears, the tantrums, and of course some of the more 'love' elements of it, all great light entertainment. It passes the time at the very least. If I were to star in Love Island and got to choose the female contestants it would be:







Courtney Thorne-Smith
Ashley Judd
Scarlet Johansson
Eva Green
Kate Winslet
Kate Beckinsale
Denise Van Outen
Natalie Portman
Julie Christie
Grace Kelly
Emanuelle Beart

Whoah! Too many! Ok. I'm sure that the female readers of my blog will probably have a list probably longer than mine.

Survival

I enjoy survival programmes. You the type. Bloke goes out into the australian outback and teaches people how to survive. This subject fascinates me. Not that I would ever end up in such a situation. I'm too much of a town person although with the right people I'd like to go camping now and again. Tents and a hole in the ground for you know what. That kind of thing. The closest I got to that so far is leaving all the windows to my house open, not tidy up for a week, not flush the loo except for a number two for a whole day. Conserving water.....sort of.

Ray Mears is quite a prominant survival expert on TV at the moment. I muched preferred the bush tuckerman though for one reason only. The Bush Tucker man looks the part of someone who has actually been 'out there'. Lean, tanned and weathered. Everything Mr Mears is not who I can one hundred percent say is chubby, pasty and must use a moisturising lotion everyday, morning and evening. I mean how many snails and worms does he need to eat to maintain that kind of physic? They are most probably extinct in the parts of the world he has visited and filmed for our pleasure. A one man enviromental hazard!

Only joking. In a world that we live in where our children can't play on the streets anymore, where gangs of hooded teens terrorise the neighorhood and wildlife areas just do not exist anymore where once I as I child would fish for frogs, newts, erm fish, go tree climbing, make makeshift tents and pretend bows and arrows. Thank god for programmes like this. I bet there isn't one kid of a certain age who after watching his programmes would love to try lighting a fire in the middle of a downpour to see if it really does work. Or string a hammock between two no-parking signs.

God Botherer

For the feeling of slight uneasiness about being hunted down by the God Squad, I thought I'd mention that a blogger who enjoys the company of the big guy in the sky everyday actually checked out my site.

Wow!

What on earth or in heaven did I deserve to bring such attention to me?

I don't mind people and their faiths but I don't expect them to come looking for me. Not that God's Kid's Corner did. I looked at my stats earlier this afternoon and hit this bloggers site. Clearly a God Botherer of the highest order. Perhaps a born again? Does it ever occur to some of these devout peace loving people that we don't all need to be preached to? Religion is a choice for people to follow or not to follow. The fact that sometimes I get a J.W. knocking at my door every so often makes me want to turn around and tell them to f**k off. Please, if want peace in the world or indeed with your neighbours, leave people like us who don't feel the urge to seek comfort with a chap called God, alone. Thanks. Keep up the good work.

Yours Sincerely,

A. Theist

p.s. Not a rant at the blogger mentioned above but for the arseholes who do that sort of thing.

Formula 1 update: Sore loser

I'm beginning to think that Jacques Villeneuves scathing attack on Michael Shumacher may not have been strong enough. I've just finished watching some of the most exciting racing in years at the Turkish grand prix. Over taking galore! This is how it should be and indeed they designed this new circuit so that drivers could do so without compromising the principles of aero grip and safety. Probably.

The race was won by Felippe Massa. It's a good thing I'm not a betting man (I refer you to my previous article about gambling). I predicted something entirely different. ~These were unusual circumstances of course. I wasn't to know that there would be a small pile up at the first corner. I didn't realise that a safety car would come out a little later and that Ferrari decided to bring in both cars for a pit stop effectively queueing Schumacher in second place. I didn't know that later when Alonso pitted that he would come out and stay out in front of Schumacher. I wasn't to know that Jenson Buttons Honda couldn't overtake Shumachers heavier Ferrari in the first couple of laps of him coming out the pits. Those are my excuses and I'll stand by them.

Ok. So the trophy presentation went okay. Massa seemed to look a little apologetic. Why man? You won the race fair and square even if it is written in your contract never to beat Shumacher. Barichello should have had the balls to do that during his time at Ferrari. I seem to remember making a pathetic protest a few races before he moved to Honda. Yes. Yes. They say its for the team. But if its the team that counts as much as the driver then the drivers should be able to battle it out amongst themselves for the honour of the title just as long as they don't take each other out. The sporting ethics of McLaren. Yes I did criticise them in an earlier article. There is nothing better than two team mates competing for position and points.

The TV conference was bittersweet. It was great to see Massa looking so happy just as Jenson did at the last grand prix to win his first ever and I might add sooner than our man Jense. The only downer at the conference was Michael himself. What a twat. Could he be anymore transparent. Clearly this man has done this before. Publicly congratulating his team mate is fine if he wasn't saying it through gritted teeth. Schumachers grand plan was ruined when Massa romped ahead early on in the race leaving Michael and Ferrari taking short sharp breaths as they couldn't believe that this man (Massa) was not going to be yet another stooge.

Having said all of that, it'll be business as usual for team Schumacher next time around. Afterall he is probably worth more than Ferrari or Fiat put together. Tosser.

WASTE...what is good for absolutely nothin..(sing a long)

Tax on refuse collection? Bollocks to that! Why on earth do I pay council tax? The reasoning behind this is to encourage more people to recycle. Come off it. Only recently have my council decided to supply me with recycling plastic boxes for which I can't put in cardboard!! What about plastic bottles? I take a good look at what kind recyclable goods I use and the majority of it are magasines, newspapers, glass bottles. What else can I possibly recycle? My toilet roll?

It's just a load of old rubbish!

My Painting

Closeup
This painting is that last I did many years ago. Everytime I look at it I look back in time to the kind of person I used to be. I remember how I used to feel when I painted pictures. There is still something inside me that would like to start it up again. I just need the the courage to believe that I can do it again. I'll post more if they come out good as a photo. Please note that there was some unavoidable reflection from the painting as I used acrylics on plain old paper. As with all paintings, it has to be seen in real life to appreciate some of the detail not captured through my digital camera. Enjoy. Please feel free to comment.

Formula 1 update

Will Jenson Button do it again? The Turkish grand prix is about to kick off tomorrow and I for one don't think so. Put him in a Ferrari, most definitely. The results for tomorrows race?

1) Michael Shumacher
2) Felippe Massa
3) Jenson Button

What happened to Kimi Raikonen? What happened to McLaren? Are they on a downward slope? Why did they cut Montoya's drive short? Questions, questions. I for one think that McLaren have never adopted the more risque strategies adopted by teams such as Ferrari and Renault.

What was Mark Webber thinking of moving to Red Bull? Sure he has a good, solid, experienced partner in David (Jaws) Coulthard but for a team that is consistently being challenged by its junior team, Torro Rosso, what chance does he have of showing the world what he is really made of. I believe Webber to be one the most talented drivers out there along with Button, Massa, Raikonen, Alonso (note: not Schumacher, either of them). Put him in a Ferrari, scrap the Schumacher clause that seems to prohibit so many talented drivers from putting him in the shadows, and he would make a fine world champion with a load of sponsorship money coming his way and a nation who love their motorsport.

Erotic Photography.

I was reading some of Acronym's blog this morning and came across some reference links to erotic photography. I'm sure in most parts of europe that for a bloke to find erotic photography interesting is accepted purely for those reasons. But somehow I would find it hard to believe in the land that produced such classics such as 'Carry on Camping' and 'Carry on Doctor' etc that for someone like me to suggest that I am interested in erotic photography, that some people would snigger that its more like a copy of playboy/penthouse/razzler/hustler that he's into.

Boris Vallejo and H.R. Giger are two artists that I admired when I used to paint. Admittedly this was many years ago. I still have moments where I feel inspired to paint again. Perhaps in time and I suppose perhaps I can now that I have more time to myself I might just pick up that paintbrush again.

The drawing you see here is called Mirage and is a Boris Vallejo.

Introducing...Acronym

I like to introduce you to a wonderful blog that I came across as I looked at my stats to see who's who. I've read much of her site and think that she is a rarity amongst fellow bloggers in how she uses this medium.

Please take sometime to check her blog out at: immensespace.blogspot.com

Valentines day

"A long time ago, I got a telephone call from a friend of mine who wished me a happy valentines day. I was suprised and flattered at the same time as I never expected to hear it from this particular person. It got me thinking (yes I know, I'm a little slow) about what it meant. In particular of the circumstances that she and I were in at the time. She married and me with someone. I always thought that there may have been something between us which clearly didn't happen because she got married after which I resigned myself to being just a friend. It was however one of those thought provoking moments where I found myself once again in the same situation, why always the friend and never the lover?"

Then I thought about it some more.

This friendship is far more precious than anything that can survive a relationship. Friendships between two sexes are a safeguard to two people wanting more because the passion for each other is sometimes too much to deal with and neither one can ever put that step forward in the right direction for one reason or another so to end, neither person will ever find out.

I'd like to make a point at this time to say that I spoke to a friend of mine tonight who shall not be named who inspired me to mention this on his behalf. So to all you ladies and gentlemen who are in this particular predicament right now, say what you feel to this person because time flies by and before you know it everything becomes too complicated to say what you really mean.

The case of the hollywood actress

Weird. Some years ago I watch Interview with a Vampire and along with the starry cast such as Tom (weirdo) Cruise and Brad (I'm with Angelina Jolie, lucky bastard) Pitt, was a young Kirsten Dunst. Since that infamous film, she has starred amongst others, the Suicide Virgins and Spiderman. Clearly in the media and for some blokes she is considered to be quite a fit looking babe. I have not been able to see that. Until now. Perhaps it is the association with the character she played years ago as a young twelve year old. She's been in lads mags on a few occasions wearing very little etc. The same can be said for Natalie Portman. Again a child in the film Leon. Now as a twenty something year old, she looks fabulous. She's even in my top ten most beautiful women. But there is something slightly unnerving with the fact the once they were seen as children and now they play some parts which just seem wrong. Portman in the film Closer made me feel decidedly uncomfortable. Am I alone in this?

Fit and fat.

I felt inspired to write about this whole fat issue. More obese people by 2010? See the issue people! Maybe we don't want skinny anymore! Maybe well rounded people are the next big thing!

Look at Michelle McManus (the winner of pop idol). She won a TV contest. Where is she now? This nation is fastist. If by 2010 there are going to be an awful lot more fat people than thin, then they, the skinny people, are going to be marginalised. FHM and Maxim will take on a new dimension (or go out of business) with the kind of scantily clad women they have in their mags. Michelle McManus by then will be the Lulu of our generation.

In all seriousness, it is a worrying projection as it is only four years away. Bring BSE and bird flu and infect all the cows, sheep and chickens and all of us will go vegetarian. Problem solved. A Mc Lettuce anyone?

Barry's Beef: Upset? Insulted? Bit of a pyro?

Barry's Beef: Upset? Insulted? Bit of a pyro?

I thought I'd show some support for a friend of mine who may not be around tomorrow morning after the article he wrote earlier today. No doubt he'll be walking home from the train station after downing copious amounts of fun juice at the Sports only to be bundled into a van, measured up for templates to be sent to Pakistan and then suitably punished for his crimes against Pakistan, Islam and Allah. All that will remain of his once colourful wit and superb humour are a pair of specs and what remains of a half burned membership card. Go into hiding man. Before its too late. Long live Barry's Beef.......or worse still, he could have his ID stolen, become a martyr and eventually hookup with a couple of virgins later.

The Dating Scene

Single mature woman, 34-31-39 (loosely), in need of love. Interests are canoeing, sky diving and eating (slurping) out. Hoping to meet Mr Right for friendship or more. Much more.









For fear for doing a Salman (Rushdie) I decided to be fair when compiling this list of dating websites for all popular (or unpopular) faiths.

• For Catholic Fun or more (nudge nudge wink, wink) Press here
• Time get that Hijab dry cleaned and ready for some singles dating fun. Press here
• For some Jewish fun and frolicking, Press here
• For the Passionate Pagans, Press here
• And for all you randy single Mormon's (LDS), look no further. Press here

I must admit I lingered on the Pagan site for a little longer. Such strange and interesting people.

Cockney Cows

I won't start a debate on the basis of how much scientists get paid for proving something that most us couldn't give a toss about. They would probably argue 'not enough'. Fair enough. So I shall attack there credibility. One of the first things I spotted on the news was an article on cows having regional accents. I haven't even bothered reading it but please, please, please, tell me that some supposedly super intelligent group of people haven't spent the last however long proving this. The stupid animals also happen to be affected by peer pressure. WHAT DO THEY MEAN???? Heres a likely scenario up in the Scottish Highlands:

group of cows: Goo on Jimmy hav some-a tha thistle, it'll put haairs on yar cheeaaaasstt moooo.

cow called Jimmy: Nooooo. I canna do it..

group of cows: argh come on gob shite whaas wrong with yar. Mooooo. Och eye he's nothin but a pansy. Mooo

Really. What ever next. Click here for the full article. There's a hilarious sound clip of regional cow accents. Brilliant!

Little French Canadian Singing Driver

Note: Stick to the day job Jacques. Even my cat is looking at me with a face that says, "What the fuck is that?!!?" Infact it is so irritating I'm not going to leave it on my blog for too long. I'll put a link to it instead. Here is the link to the singing talents of a little ex-F1 French Canadian singing driver.

Little French Canadian Driver

http://www.myspace.com/jvofficial

Poor Jacques Villeneuve. There was a time when I admired his laid back, a certain je ne sais quoi style of racing and off track persona. Now the poor chap resorts to finish off his career with a few choice words about who other than Mikey Schumacher.

'Hes a liar. A cheat'. 'He's not a human being'.'He'll never be remembered'. Are some of the things he has said about him in a recent interview allegedly. Now I'm not a fan of Schumacher by any means and I totally agree with what is being said about the man but surely isn't that something for the fans of formula one to talk about in a bar? Not someone who once won the world championship admist the best efforts a cheating Schumacher could throw at him to run him off the road? Be proud of what you have acheived Mr Villeneuve. Not many people can claim to have done what you have. Look at David Coulthard. He's been in the game for longer than you and hasn't ever won a championship. Does he ever publicy slag off the competition? Not that its ever made it to my ears.
I have a lot of time for Jacques and I do hope that if he decides to switch to NASCAR or something more European that he will do very well. Just stop whinging about something we fans can do better than you. Remain the consumate professional and you will be remembered for something more than just a moaning ex-F1 driver who doesn't know how to bow out graciously.

By the way, Michael Schumacher is a liar and a cheat; allegedly.

Article here from BBC sport of Jacques little rant.

Cool tunes

Kasabian. Empire. Cool track.

I am not really known for my varied taste in music as I would like to think that I prefer some of the more emotive and frankly unique kinds of music currently on the scene. I'm sure I've mentioned Goldfrapp which is the ultimate in music. I saw them in concert at the Brixton Academy a while ago. I recommend them to everyone. Do not miss the experience of listening to Alison Goldfrapp and her enchanting, sexy, erotic, and frankly fucking fantastic music. Another is Talvin Singh. His album 'OK' although firmly fixed in the 90's era of tunes is yet another example of individualistic artistry that is so lacking in this age (apart from Goldfrapp who is THE music of this decade). I'll stop gushing now. One more thing. She also happens to be a really fit babe.

The Fish Man

As I may have mentioned in previous articles I have a fondness for fish. To keep not eat. I met a chap today who is probably the maddest fish enthusiast that I know of. How cool is that? He owns a large shop full of various types of fish freshwater and marine. I keep piranha. I've always wanted to keep them since I was a kid. I won't go into the reasons at it may make me sound a little sad (if I don't already). There are some prerequisites to keeping them as you can imagine. They get big. Very big. About twelve inches or more not including the tail. They eat most kinds of flesh both living and dead. They are believe it or not very nervous fish. Some keepers believe in feeding them live bait such as goldfish (not recommended as they have a high fat content and many are diseased). I personally do not believe in this practice although it is said that this is the natural feeding habit of the fish. So while mentioning the fact that I strongly disagree with this method of feeding, he agreed. Sort of by way of explaining that quite by accident he managed to kill a hundred and fifty goldfish and rather than it go to waste decided to freeze them for food for the piranha. Incidentally they are Red Bellied Piranha (Pygocentrus Nattereri)...Nattereri? Must have been named by a bloke with a nagging wife. Ouch!

Tom and Jerry

What is wrong with this country and the authorities who decided to censor one of my all time favorite cartoons? The news this afternoon declared that Tom and Jerry cartoons will be subject to censorship for a number of scenes involving Tom smoking a cigarette. This is supposed to protect children from the evils of smoking. I mean how young do they expect them to pick up the habit let alone from a character that gets the crap beaten out of him in every cartoon??!! I would hardly call Tom a role model. What will they do next? Ban the cartoon itself because it is too violent? Pah! I saw a film once called Super Nova (No. Not about a very fast crappy Vauxhall car) in which one of the characters was doing a doctorate or something like that on 20th century cartoons and the violence associated with it in which one chap says to the other "wasn't that supposed to be outlawed"???????!!! Words cannot describe how annoying it is to hear such stupidity. The flaming characters in the cartoon aren't even real for god's sake!!!

Tom and Jerry will be turning in their grave if ever they heard such a thing!

A betting man

Tut. Tut. Tut. Betting along with boozing and drugs are the destroyers of man (que the dramatic biblical music). On a more serious note; I must admit that gambling has always baffled me. I don't gamble much at all. I wouldn't reallly consider the National Lottery to be gambling in the context of my world. I put in a pound not expecting to win. If it comes up, it comes up. I don't even belong to a syndicate. I am nnot about to look down at people who gamble in the way some people may do at drug addicts and alchoholics. I find the whole concept of gambling on horses, the dogs, football, fruit machines, cards etc baffling because all my life I have never ever one a penny from any kind of gambling. I don't play sports for money (if you consider darts and pool a sport) because I think it kills the spirit of friendship. I would never play a stranger for money either. I've seen friends of mine playing a friendly game of pool and lose ridiculous amounts of money for one small mistake. There's no fun in that.

My old boss and one time friend invited me to a pool hall where he and his mate had been on the sauce for most of the afternoon. I was playing catch up (drink) once I had arrived. Clearly my old boss had more than plenty to drink and decided to play for money. Now I didn't really know his friend very well but I noted that he seemed a little more sober for the part. Money was on the table at five pounds per game. I stood back as I saw money changing hands a few times. My old boss won a game and his friend decided to take a breather and sit out for a little while. I clearly stated that I wouldn't play for money although he convinced me to play for a pound. Fair enough I did and I won. So I played his friend. Same deal. One pound. I won. My old bosss' turn. This time two pounds. I lost. I stopped playing for money after that as I knew that even though I could probably get that money back I would not get trapped in this cycle of winning and losing money off my friend. It was good that I stopped as they started upping the stakes. Ten pound notes started exchanging hands, then twenties, and finally playing for fifty pounds a game. I didn't stay for much longer except to see my old boss lose fifty pounds on a break where the black went down. Oh dear. Loser.

I am a fan of Formula One and watch all the races religiously and although the sport has taken a downward turn, I still enjoy the most regal of motorsports. I am tempted to place a bet or two on this years season. The problem I have is, how on earth do I place a bet a the betting shop? I have only set foot in one of those places and that was because an old friend of mine wanted to spend the last of his student grant on a flutter! Bloody students. Anyway. My money this season is Fernando Alonso for the drivers title and Ferrari for the constructors. Its all in the form you see :-)

My mad cousin

My mad cousin who I haven't seen in years sent this wonderful poem in. I'd like to think of him as my email cousin. He is the nicest bloke in world. There aren't that many people who are kind and caring and very selfless. He was a right pain the proverbial the last time I met him but then I was twelve years old and he was eight.

> >Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet,and so are you.> >But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
> >Of loving beauty you float with grace> >If only you could hide your face.
> >Kind, intelligent, loving and hot> >This describes everything you are not.
> >I want to feel your sweet embrace> >But don't take that paper bag off of your face.
> >I love your smile, your face, and your eyes> >Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
> >My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:> >Marrying you screwed up my life.
> >I see your face when I am dreaming.> >That's why I always wake up screaming
> >My love, you take my breath away.> >What have you stepped in to smell this way?
> >My feelings for you no words can tell> >Except for maybe "Go To Hell".
> >What inspired this amorous rhyme?> >Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Hopefully this is one he didn't write as it sounds like the rantings of a slightly unhinged person. Pretty funny all the same.

Reality gone too far.

I've had it with bloody reality TV. Big Brother has only just finished to the relief of the majority of 30 somethings or indeed anyone with an ounce (or gram if you're european) of sense for there to be yet another round of X-Bloody-Factor. Ok, so they (TV producers) are gearing up for the crappy weather that is coming our way so what better thing to do than to put on TV programmes for people who stay at home to watch such rubbish. Having said that, I confess that although I sincerely did not wish to partake in the viewing of X-Factor, I found myself compelled to watch it. I felt like a fly strangely attracted to that blue glow of the fly-killing light (or whatever its called). There is something interesting and amusing about watching people make a right twat of themselves. Like the sixteen year old boy who sang like someone who's rammed a bloody traffic cone up his backside. He looked more like a spindley tree than someone who could sing, shaking like that. Poor sod. They've put him through to the next round. For what? Someone give him a flaming valium or Nytol!

I feel that is my duty as covert TV programming watchdog to watch this show carefully. I shall bring updates over the coming weeks.....

Never happy....

A short one this time. What is it about us Brits that we never seem satisfied about the weather? Here we are complaining that it is dull, wet and miserable yet just a few weeks back we were complaining that the water companies were issuing a drought order. We prayed for rain so that we wouldn't have to pay extra for running water and what do we get? Rain! We had our sun shine for the best part of three weeks. What more do you want. If you want sun go to the South of France or Spain or Portugal (stereo typical brit holiday)!

Ok. Ok. The weather is a bit crap at the moment.

p.s. No Claire on GMTV this week. Its the other one with the baby.

Foxy and Baloney

I thought I'd mention what a great night I had in two parts.

Feeling rather sorry for myself and with just the four walls of my flat (metaphoric) to look at I was about to resign myself to another night of episodes of 24 dispersed with a quick blast on a computer game when my friend Baloney dropped me a line for an invitation to a drink with Foxy. You might at this point be saying what is 2Darts on about? Foxy? Baloney? No. Not characters from a childrens book but two friends of mine.

I'd just like to say thanks for cheering me up and everything is going to be fine Baloney. Just don't worry about those shit stirrers. I'll be around to talk whenever you like. A word to Foxy, take a chill pill and don't worry about Baloney while on your holiday. Enjoy the green, green grass of Ireland. LEAVE THE LAPTOP AT HOME!! I'll be missing your Foxy ways. I hope you catch a few irish chickens when you're out there (wink, wink!). One more thing about the first part of this tale. I'll firstly apologise to Baloney for calling Baloney; Baloney. This lovely person has a habit of matching people's faces and personality to animals. Since I can't find an animal to match her, this is the only nickname I could come up with so far prompted by, I thought, a mis-pronounciation. Below is an extract from a website I found this morning for some clarification.

Dear Word Detective: I am interested in your opinion about a theory of mine as to the origin of the word "baloney," meaning unauthentic, as in "full of baloney." It is, I think, commonly believed that baloney is a mispronunciation of the name Bologna, as in the sausage of the same name. This makes sense, of course, as sausage stuffing might well be a metaphor for something whose contents are somewhat dubious. However, recently an Irish friend was commenting on a mutual acquaintance, and referred to him as being "full of B'larney" (his pronunciation). It struck me that this mispronunciation was an even better explanation for the expression, which seems to refer to glibness as much as tainted contents. For some reason, I cannot seem to interest anyone in this issue. -- Bernard Davidoff, via the internet.
Well, I suppose that it's possible that someone, somewhere, mistook "blarney" for "baloney" on a given occasion, but that sort of confusion is almost certainly not the origin of baloney as a synonym for "nonsense."
It is pretty well established that "baloney," meaning nonsense, does come from "baloney" the sausage (which is indeed named after Bologna, Italy). Baloney was (and often still is) regarded as a humble food of, as you say, dubious origins. It thus made a good metaphor for "junk" much as today we use "spam" (fairly or not) to mean unwanted e-mail advertisements. One of the earliest uses of "baloney" to mean nonsense was in the catch phrase "It's baloney no matter how thin you slice it," popular in the 1930's.
"Blarney," of course, also means nonsense, specifically smooth flattery, and comes from the name of a village in Ireland. According to legend, the Blarney Stone, located in a local castle, supposedly confers the skill of telling convincing lies on whoever manages to reach and kiss it, a feat requiring considerable physical dexterity.
The difference between "baloney" and "blarney," interestingly, was explained in a radio address by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen in 1954: "Baloney is the unvarnished lie laid on so thick you hate it; blarney is flattery laid on so thin you love it."

So there you are. A full explanation of the origins of the word.

Thanks to Word Detective.

The second part of the evening involved my parents, beer and a singer from Cuba. Forgive my ignorance but what kind of music and singing would a singer from Cuba do? I was expecting traditional folk or even popular Cuban music. Who was I kidding? Nope. Not a sniff of Cuban culture apart from the fact that the man has a great voice and great guitar skills. My Dad mentioned that he takes requests so the first tune that came to mind was 'Fire' by Jimi. Nope not on his songlist. Mmmm. Chris Issak's 'Wicked Game'? Nope. Not that I was bothered as the music, part chart stuff and part old faves was very good. I would highly recommend erm....whatever his name is. I'll have to ask my old man as he bought his album......

One last thing. I'll find a new name for you Baloney. For those who don't know Baloney, if you saw her, you'd know that name doesn't do any justice whatsoever.

Simpsons Episode

Unbelivable. While watching a repeat of the O.C. (no idea why, something to do), this particular episode has Seth (geeky but cool bloke) smoking as the americans say 'pot'. Dope. Whatever. The guy is someteen and enjoying the benefits of smoking the weed. Cool until he gets a ticking off from his rent-a-brother about the evils of smoking 'the shit'. Strange how is girlfriend has a booze problem and his arch love rival in a couple of episodes time falls off a cliff after necking most of a bottle of rum/whisky. I don't know about you but the positive message is smoke dope and talk a load of crap or drink booze and pretend to fly off a cliff and kill youself.

On to a Simpsons episode called medical marijuana. Brilliant! Homer has a problem with his eye sight so his doctor prescribes him medical marijuana. Fantastic. Where is this doctor? There's the part where his mates are in the bar complaining about Homer being stoned all the time and they were going to throw a party for him except one of the blokes nearly had alchohol poisoning due to too much drinking. Too bloody right. I've never heard of anyone dying through smoking too much dope. They've passed out well before O.D.ing on the stuff.

Weddings and Funerals

Can't type Claire's on TV..............................................

Ok. Back again. I remember a conversation I had about a week ago with some friends of mine sitting around a table having a couple of lemonades. Something about weddings; I can't rememmber all the details, strong lemonade. I foolishly suggested that they come along to one (not mine of course) to see what it's all about knowingly that its all a load of rubbish. Indian weddings are renounned for being quite colourful with dancing and music a la bollywood styl'ish. Not the ones that I have been to. My friend Kumar has been to a few and no doubt some good ones. I have been to really stuffy ones. Except one. my cousin who laid on the booze and music and dancing etc...it was a really fun time. Most of the one's I have been to are rather more orthodox, sober (not in the alchoholic sense) and not much fun. Where are the dancing girls for god sakes!!??!! Just joking. Two of my starry eyed female friends are adament that they'd like to come along. I know its all going to go wrong. They'll be disappointed, I'll have no friends. I have been reluctant to ask mmy folks to reserve seats for four more as I know a) it'll end in tears b) the talk of the girls coming in little black/lavender numbers ain't gonna go down well c) I don't want my mum to think I have had a change of heart. This is a social experiment not finding a new interest in culture. The only advantage that I can see is that I'll have a friend who can back me up when I say I told you so and two fit chicks (who also happen to be really good friends of mine) to take along to the wedding. That'lll get them talking.

These weddings tend to be a bit of a meat market. Think of nightclubs without the banging music, drugs and booze. Things are a little easier in this scenario as there's no need to shout at the top of your voice. Your mates don't egg you on to chat up a fit bird as this is done for you by both mothers of both would be suitors negotiating terms of engagement. Oy Vey! When something like this is likely to take place, I think of two things. The other person is about as least interested as you as they probably have a boyfriend they haven't told there parents about and vice versa or the fact that they are indeed interested and like the parents, well up on the culture/tradition thing to which I say 'bollocks to that'. I've never liked the idea of someone choosing a partner for me. My folks don't do it to me and I'm grateful for it.

Funerals? There is a sense that the same thing happens as above but in a much more sombre mood. What? I'm just saying how it is.

Observations

Just a thought. And an odd one at that. I've been into one relationship and then another for quite some time. I am now a confirmed batchelor (ok, some weeks ago) and have observed something. When one is in a relationship, one usually becomes less observant of other people (women). I have noticed however that now I am no longer the other half of the half that was once a whole; that observing other people, mainly women (come on! give me a break!) has become quite a fascinating past time both in the positive sense and negative. You might ask where this has come from? BIG F**KING BROTHER!!! Yes. Sad but true.

Weather Girl part deux

In my struggle to have a lay in during the precious time I have away from work, I cannot seem to sleep after 8.00am. This means getting up downloading some logs (IT humour) and making a cuppa. There is only one reason to watch GMTV at this time of the day and that is the wonderful Claire Nasir. Now as I mentioned in a previous article, I nearly met her. I won't go through the technicalities of 'nearly'; read the previous article. The TV in the bedroom is where I get her weather forecasts. Now I did mention that the TV doesn't do her justice for obvious reasons i.e. the TV always puts on an extra few pounds. How wrong I was. I switched on the living room TV and observed that indeed the TV in THAT room doesn't. Sorry Claire, only the bedroom TV makes you look a little chubby. Will replace that TV prompto. Did I mention that she was wearing a nurses uniform this morning. Well sort of....Phwoarrrr!

Career move...more money...

Just typical of how things work out in life!!

Get a job that pays well and is quite fulfilling.

Decide that relationship doesn't work. Partner moves out. Extra money coming in goes to the bills she used to pay. Sh*t!

Whilst having a conversation with a few select friends of mine a while back in anticipation of this happening; several money making schemes came into suggestion:

1) Get a lodger. Yes a nice and easy option that I would raise an eyebrow to in recognition of its simplicity, but no. Did that once before. Now don't get me wrong, lodgers are a great way of harbouring tax evaders, murderers, assassins, illegal immigrants (am I allowed to say that with getting arrested by the P.C. police), transexual prostitutes, CSA fugitives. I experienced one of the suggested lodgers a long time ago. A really nice chap, popular with the people he worked with although usually sloshed by the end of the night (he worked at a bar). The dodgy geezer evading all sorts of things. None of my business though as all I was interested in was the money to keep my head above water. I am a reformed smoker so I cannot possible criticise someone elses smoking habits. I usually have a smoke mid to late afternoon and possibly not until the evening with a pint in my hand to accompany it. This chap however was a morning mid morning, mid mid morning, early afternoon, early mid afternoon....you get my point. There is nothing worse that smell stale cigarette smoke first thing in the morning. Another thing, the bastard left cigarette holes in my carpet. He was a good cook though and part of the inticement for accepting him as a lodger was his latest games console. Please note, this was a part of my life where batchelorism was the book by my bedside.
So to summarise; I had a lodger who brought along a games console, who could cook, reasonable at keeping the place tidy, smoked all day long, left fag burns on the carpet and sofas, brought rather dodgy characters back to the yard at stupid o'clock in the morning (all smokers of course), tried to get me to help him dodge people he owed money to. So, no. I wouldn't do it again unless the lodger turned out to be a gorgeous she with several gorgeous mates (single of course).

2) Male Escort. A friend of mine who has a rather good job as a chef (not sure if he's any good though) suggested to me sometime ago that he had a second job on weekends to help pay for the bills. Of course I thought it quite the sensible thing to do. I personally worship every free day given to me as I am quite disorganised with domestic type things. I digress.
One afternoon he decided to drop me a line. Clearly the kind of afternoon I needed to get on with things at work. Then he dropped the mother of all bombshells. He came straight out with it. He provides a male escort service. Never in a million years had I thought he'd go for something like that. Sometime time had passed during our brief conversation I realised that he would probably make a good one (so all you female readers interested, I have now become his agent). Months later, I spotted him in the local watering hole talking to a group of people. I of course said hello and sat down. My friend is not always known for being discreet about other peoples affairs some of the time so it came as no suprise that he would not be so with his own. This is where I found some of the more unsavory details of the job. I mean, really. How ugly must a woman be to take viagra, ecstasy and coke to keep going like a train? He did mention four hundred quid for the night though............nope. Not for me.

3) IT contracting. The most seductive of the other two. There is a lot of money to be made in this field. I happen to have a permanent position in my employment. I have friends however who make a mint at £50 - £100 per hour. Yes per hour. Per hour. Per hour. Wow. Then I took a look at some of the finer points of contracting. Loadsa money yes. Managing your accounts, don't think that has been a past time of mine. Job security ? Not really. Taking a job is usually driven by the desire to earn more money and not so much about the desire to grow into specialised areas. I personally like my job and what it allows me to do for my personal ambitions. This is by no means critising my good friends who do this kind of work. They have a wealth of experience in all areas of IT and there is one in particular who I think will go a long way. His name is Kumar (not real name for the purpose of this blog). You may have heard of this name in a previous entry.

4) Drug dealing. (Yes real suggestions made to me by 'friends'). No. Damn it! Didn't anyone remember what happened to Zammo (Grange Hill)!

5) Cutting down. Possibly the most simple way of saving money. Booze, fags, and takeaway's. Well actually less of the takeaway's, more like posh homemade food like steaks with red wine and onion sauce or stilton sauce etc, indian curries, pizza, jamaican goat curry, jerk chicken, something from the Jamie Oliver cookbook, italian, turkish, thai, roasts etc. All of these are homemade. No messing around. I prefer to cook at home from raw ingredients. None of that crappy ready made sauces or bases. Those are for wimps. Interestingly as I glance at the text while typing I find that the foods listed above are very much like the takeaways I get anyway. I must admit I have always strived to home cook anything that I have experienced at a restaurant or takeaway. I like the idea of being able to do it at home. It gives me a great sense of satisfaction when I serve those dishes up for friends and family.

Anyway the point of the detailed description is that it all becomes very expensive for one person. Roll on beans on toast!

Did I mention booze and fags. Yes indeed the staple diet of the batchelor along with kebabs. When I said cut down I meant it too. Those two are subject to a 2Darts cutdown. I'm certainly not getting any younger and that haunting advert of the guy who's only 36 with lung cancer gasping away. I'm not too far away from that age either. Booze. There comes a time in the year when the sun is out, the weather is wonderful, people out showing more flesh than at any other time except in the confines of there home or gym (what's that?). Time to dig out that old T-shirt. Yes that one were you look cool and rather flash. Oh dear. That one year of boozing has taken its toll. No more six pack, not even four. A one pack. Oh dear. Worse still that bump of a stomach is before the first meal of the day!

Lets Pretend.

Clearly for the next three weeks, I shall be doing many things. Along side me are my two feline friends who as of today I shall call Poo Girl and Sick Boy. Called so because the little madam has a habit of dropping her number two wherever she feels like dropping. And Sick Boy because if he's fed tinned food, he eats all of his share, runs's around, throws up and then goes back to eat her share and then runs around and throws up again.

Cool. So now I have superhero names for my cats. What about mine. I'm sure that a few of my friends may have suggestions and greatly unappreciated if you decide to write in.

Let me think about it......

The Hell that is Daytime TV

The downside to having time off is truely the quality daytime TV. Firstly what the hell am I doing watching this crap. Day time TV is for old folk and chavvy single mum's sipping on their bottle of Vodka and sending out the nine year old to nick a pint of milk from the local grocers shop. Oh my god. Bad stereotype. Ok. I'll change it.

Day time TV is for those who have quite rightly earned their retirement and who actively keep and eye on one property when one is away working and those who send there nasty little feral children to break into ones property to steal things to feed the parrents crack habit while topping themselves up for the day too.

Yes....Monday morning blues, delayed.

Monday Morning

Its Monday morning and I feeeeeeeel grrrrreaaaattt!!

I'm on annual leave for three weeks and I couldn't care less what I do from now on. The world is my oyster. On second thought, its probably the caffine in my morning cuppa doing the trick. What to do ? what to do ? Books. Yes. I've bought several over the last few years with all intention to read them but alas the temptation that is....erm....other things have led me astray. There is the Tom Holland one about the Persian Empire which I hoped would boost my intellectual conversation ability or James Lovelocks, the Revenge of Gaia. Typically as I am the occasional The Independant reader; I sucumb to the eco warrior bias. Alas last but not least, the book I wish I had not bought; you my mind has gone blank, its that bad. Oh yes, the Da Vinci Code. I bought the thing, it feels like years ago, and read four chapters in about a year. I couldn't really be bothered after a while (I'm not too good with fiction these days) and resigned myself to the movie. Time to do them justice (bar one).

Finish watching season four of 24.

Decorating, maybe.

Seeing old friends, for sure.

..Frightening

Twisted or what. I posted Beastenders earlier on my blog. It got me thinking. That isn't the most disturbing video I've seen. Its this one. Going back years earlier, I remember Aphex Twins bringing out a couple of "unusual" music videos. This and Windowlicker. This clearly is an example of what music shouldn't be but the video is surely much more scary than some of the crap horrors that currently circulate the film industry.

Singledom, Boredom and Porn.

A couple of things happen when a bloke becomes single.

a) When you were part of a couple, suddenly you'd attract more of the opposite sex than ever. When single however it seems to be completely the opposite.

b) When word gets around of this newly found status, others like yourself gravitate towards you. Or you to others. Doesn't matter, the effect is the same.

c) Of those that gravitate towards you, there is always one that has been single for longer than most for several clear reasons. Hygiene, letcherousness (if thats a real word) and porn. Its this kind of person that strikes the fear of god into the newly baptised batchelor. Looking at the poor creature one cannot help that this is what happens eventually. Very scary.

d) The offer of porn collections come thick and fast (no pun intended). Someone offered me a whole spindle of the stuff all on unlabelled CD's. Sad. Just incase you were wondering, I said no.

Personally, I prefer a life of Xbox, beer, xbox, beer, beer, reading, beer, big juicy steaks just the way I like it, beer, Tai Chi, long walks, beer. Ask me again in a few months time and replace beer for porn. Months you might question. Indeed, I have so many things to do. I simply be far too busy for that sort of thing.......:-)

BeastEnders

My mate Barry has an unusually unhealthy appetite for the UK soap opera Eastenders. Whatever turns you on matey. He has on occasion posted some brilliant video snippets of his favorite moments. What I came across was what one could consider 'Enders on acid. Here ya go.




Weird!

Better Late than Never

Well done Jenson Button. I am a little behind with the celebrations. It might have something to do with the last article. I more than most have stuck with F1 for a considerable time and have cringed at how the sport has turned into something, unentertaining at times. I happen to enjoy the strategy behind the races although it has to be said that it was originally all about the overtaking, the crashes and the drivers tantrums during or after the race. Now its all about fuelling strategies and millseconds at the pitstops etc. The commentators even have data about how much fuel is going into the car by the number of seconds in the pit stop to determine how many laps they need to go on for before the next one. Why ? Because they know all to bloody well that the chance for some wheel to wheel duels are just a remote possibility. Credit to Jenson for putting on a good show and to hold his nerve in the last few laps for quite and easy race. Some might say that it was the unreliability of Fernando Alonso's motor and the mistake of Shumacher that gifted him the race. Nope. Wrong. Jenson had like the two mentioned, started towards the back of the field somewhere between the two. Later in the race, Jenson had the better of Schumacher and was catching Fernando's 1st place. He did it with all the professionalism that comes with his expectation as a potential world champion. A few more like those and he'll do us all proud.

Love, Life and Lager..

Too much of all three is my statement. Having had the excesses of all three I am now obliged (or rather my liver and sanity are) to cut back on all. Love is something that I have to do for myself. Without self respect I don't have a great deal going for me. Not only that but it also happens to be the end of the road for my soon to be ex partner and I. No drama. No anxiety. Just an end to something that was wonderful and comforting.

Life; living on a diet of takeaway's is pushing me down heart attack alley. Late to bed and early to rise. Multivitamins, water, coffee, work, an occasional lunch, work, lager, takeaway. What a sad life eh?

Lager (and associated beverages); the root of all evil for me at the moment. I haven't suffered so much than I have in recent times due to the seductive nature that is alchohol. Time to stop.

Who do I ask to stop all of this? Me.

Self Imposed Censorship

Just reading my last entry I thought; how much am I willing or should I divulge my personal thoughts on this blog ? I suppose there is a sentiment towards letting people in to a little of ones personal life without giving too much away. What is a definition of a blog then ? Some of the most sucessful blogs contain titalating articles about ones self. For other sucessful ones they contain initmate descriptions about their lives by remaining anonymous. My question for those that do is how anonymous are they ?

Perfection

I've had some time alone for the last few days which I am grateful for. In this moment of relative solitude I've found myself thinking about who I am and what part I play in the life that surrounds me. Its such a difficult thing to conclude as it doesnt take a matter of days or weeks or months or years. It must be an on going process. I guess sometimes I'm afraid of finding out who I really am at this time and what I can be. What are the things that make me ? My job ? My friends ? My family ? My interests ? My secrets ? Something more than that ? I feel some relief with the time I have alone of some of the things I believe I am obligated to do. Is that a selfish thing ? Perhaps.

An Electric Feeling

The United Kingdom is going through rather freakish weather we can agree. Blisteringly hot and humid summers, mild dry winters, freak flash floods and tornadoes. Just the average kind of weather for the U.S. too. I must admit though for the last couple of days, I've found the thunder and lightning absolutely exhilirating! Old blighty isn't what you'd call exciting (weather wise). We've been fairly lucky in having middle of the road type weather. Not too extreme in any sense. Correction. The south east of England suffers no extremities. Why is that ? The north get most of the rain, the south east get a drought warning. Scotland gets the major share of the snow and is always guaranteed a white christmas (ish) whereas the south east gets a dandruffs worth of covering. Maybe I should consult my American Indian rain maker friend for some exciting weather. Well perhaps not. I don't have an American Indian rain make friend.

Losing my brain power

The trials and tribulations of having a loved one sleeping next to you. I've always had a rather random quality of sleep for the last four and a half years and perhaps a bit more.

Austrian scientists (would it make a difference if they were bolivian ?) have recently announced something that I have known for quite sometime. Sleeping with your partner makes reduces your mental dexterity. Check it out here.

It is very true.

Weather Babe

Such a coincidence that my pal Barry's Beef came all over star struck the other day when he met an ex-eastenders character on the tube. He even had the balls to have a chat with him and get an autograph. Lucky man that old Beefy. Not quite attractive the lovely lady you see here though.

Coincidence indeed that I spotted the hot weather girl that I wake up to first thing in the morning on the tube yesterday morning. Clare Nasir who you all know from GMTV. I'd just like to say a fine woman with some very nice weather fronts to boot. Of course Monday morning's are just not the time to talk to anyone least alone a stranger and unlike Barry's Beef I certainly didn't have any alchohol to pursuade me to tap her on the shoulder and tell her how those camera's just don't do justice to her. Clare, keep up the good work you sexy little minx.

Getting older and Cars.

When I was a kid, my kind of car, was the one that my Dad drove. Yes an Austin Allegro. Then it was the Ford Cortina....Then it dawned on me that there are other cars in this world other than my Dads. Bring on the Lamborgini Countach LPS500. Not the original girly effort. This version was the 80's icon for excess. It had outrageous spoilers, air ducts etc....It was a mans cars.

As time has passed my tastes have changed somewhat to something more realistic and affordable. The Ford Mustang is one car I would love to drive. I couldn't however justify the cost of ownership. With soaring costs in petrol, tax and maintenance, what would be the point ? It would be nothing more than a poster on my wall. Even now. Alas with the cost of living in a city like London I am bound to the delights of public transport. Will there be a day when I could afford one of these magnificent classic cars ? Maybe.

Addictive TV

I must admit, I am getting grumpier as I get older. There are things that irritate me about current TV programming in this country. Bland sitcoms due to the fact that TV executives are scared witless of offending the Politically Correct brigade and crap reality TV shows, TV show's about how to dress, how to lose weight; shows about ugly people, fat people, irritating people etc. Even the mainstay of British television such as soap operas have taken a nose dive (not that I'm much of a fan of that). I am a hardworking individual that would liked to be entertained/informed/satisfied for the monthly premium that is paid for cable TV. It was by chance then that I came across 24. I'd been reluctant to watch such shows before as I'd cultured a cynical view of american imported TV shows. How wrong I was though. This is TV at its best. I had never managed to catch it on TV but due to DVD I can now watch it all. Not at once of course alll though admittedly I've done sixteen hours in one sitting. How on earth they manage to maintain that level of continuity is remarkable. I'd also like to honour 'Alias' too for being such a fine programme. Admittedly my initial reasons for watching it were hormonally driven but fast became a very addictive show. I do however feel a sense that due to the very success of these programmes that there will be many poor imitations that will exhaust this type of programming and then once again we have to suffer the mediocrity of untalented producers who can't think of anything original. Boo.

Parties

Nope. Not the political type, just the regular kinds of party.

5 - 13 years old

If remember correctly things don't change much from when you were a child. You get invited to a party. That feeling of inclusiveness makes you feel special. To be a part of a larger popular group. Then is the process of getting ready for the big occassion. You pick your best frock (or your mother does), put a comb through your hair and even have a bath and spray something nice so you don't smell like you've been running around in a mud pit all day.

On to the big night. You get chauffeur driven to your destination so that your nice garments don't crease or pick up a stain from walking or using London public transport (sorry London transport is ace!). Upon arriving at the party, lots of nice people smile and greet you. Some takes your coat and kindly puts it somewhere safe. A nice lady (could be man) offers you something to drink and something to each. You bump into friends past and present. New exciting people to meet. Up to this point its great.

As the night wears on the music's cranked up and everyone is more at ease; then the inevitable happens. Somewhere in the murky corner, someone has spilt a heavily artificially colour drink over anothers best frock. So starts the crying , the red faces. The surrounding populace of party goers look utterly suprised and awkward. Then to the rescue comes the host of the party to settle nerves. I saw a poor girl projecting vomit once as expertly as an expert vomit erm expert. Probably due to ingesting something she shouldn't have (ie. something from the fake fruit bowl). In another corner, somebody has wet themselves without actually having realised they did and its only when a large empty circle around the poor little fella has created that a mum/dad/adult supervisor ushers the poor person into the bathroom to clean up. Of course no party is complete without a fit of jealousy. I remember once a lad kissing a girl (innocently of course) at one of these swanky do's once while in clear view of his rival. Obligatory punch up ensues. Clearly this is group participation and there for fellow party goers close to the action get involved also. Adult supervisors at this point from dealing the the wetting and spilling incident rush to break up the fight. The local law enforcement are called in promptly (Mum, Dad or both). Party ends.

Teenage years

The thought of being invited to a party during these times mean't really only a few things to the average teenager. Sex, booze, cigarettes and sex. Maybe a bit of glue sniffing or dope if said party was held at the local council estate. I would love to make up stories about my experiences at a teen party but I won't. I didn't get invited to any of the really interesting ones. Just with my fellow geeky, computery types. Bummer!

Although, the outcome of those raging teen parties were all too clear. A couple months down the line slim, attractive and unattainable Tracy looks decidedly chunky (she is normal afterall). A few month down the line and now chunky Tracy stops going to school quite abruptly. So does Kevin. Clearly the rumour mill gets around of that party months back. I hear from various sources of the shenanigans that went on. The wild boozing, the fighting, the various drug taking in the dark corners of a room, the illicit affairs etc.....

I'm glad I missed out on that one.

18 - 20

I was a good chap. I didn't buy cigarettes until I was 16 years old. I didn't buy booze until I was 18 because anytime before would've been illegal!! I suppose it didn't stop me from pinch the odd fag from my Dad's stash of Rothmans (yuck) and a wee drink from the bottle of vodka supposedly stashed so I that I would never be able to reach it (note to parents. Have chair will reach).

So eighteen years old and confident, full head of hair and armed with plenty of hair gel. The college years. All those irritating girls at school suddenly blooming into stunning models (and some of them knew it). Party time again. This time nightclubs. That place that all teenagers aspire to go to. It were you older brother or sister went. Its all they'd ever talk about. All glitzy and glamourous. It were all the cool people went.

So its decided. Saturday night. All the lads have decided to go clubbing down Kingston. In my day that was the place to be for a Surrey lad. So down to the local Boots store pick up some personal hygene and grooming products. At home armed with a razor and with clinical precision, the cleanest shave you've ever seen. On with a splash of aftershave (ouch). Now on to the hair. With half a tub of hair gel now weighing down my hair, I decide on the style. After minutes of poncing about until every hair was in place I was ready for the clothes. This itself was a fairly straight forward affair. I'd being shopping earlier in the day for a shirt (Ben Sherman of course) and trousers/jeans. On with the gear and all ready to go.

Now having ordered and in a cab, off I go to meet the other members of the tribe. We all meet at an agreed place everyone of us looking exceptionally flash, cool and the dogs bollocks (to coin a phrase from my youth). We've finally made it. To the place where the cool people go. The first time always the most memorable (not necessarily the best). To start with we headed off to a restaurant already booked in one of our names. This particular restaurant was clearly a classy place as they hadn't anticipated anyone of our calibre to walk in. Yes six eighteen plus year olds looking decidedly menacing. We sat down and order five bottles of the finest white wine and a JD and coke for the one who didnt like the vino. After much deliberation we ordered six whole shredded peking ducks and then the main course (I kid you not!). After realising that a) ordered too much booze b) too much food, c) we were advised by the owners that we'd ordered to much food and booze at the start, we paid the bill after our fill and left for The Nightclub.

Standing in the queue to get in there is a strange mixture of cheap perfume and aftershave. Well it smelt cheap presumably because of the odd mix of the two. Bouncers frisked each one of us for dangerous who knows what and in we go after paying the obligatory, extortionately high priced tickets. As soon as the eyes got accustomed to the darkness and ears to the loudness of the music did we take in the scenery. Wow! What a scenery. Women. Everywhere. This was what is was all about. All those dance moves practiced at home were finally going to come to use. Booze aplenty, time to move on the dance floor. Using the universal tribal language of dance to impress the opposite sex, we're all swinging our hips, frantically waving our arms and legs in apparently perfect co-ordination. All the ladies are clearly impressed by these well practised moves. Then as on queue, somewhere on the far side of the dance floor a fight ensues barely audible over the loud music. Several huge shadowy figure muscle past me and within seconds all is calm. More booze. Back on to the dance floor. Clearly booze working as over time the ugly girl dancing with her group of friends doesn't look quite so ugly anymore. My friends to the rescue as clearly they must have seen me dirty dancing with said ugly lady.

More booze and can't stand anymore. Sitting down on a chair. Head spinning. Time to go home via a shopping trolley and a kebab. Most of us on route home (walking of course) partake in a competition called vomit.

Wake up next day with I believe the worst ever hangover I (on hindsight) have ever had. Ever. I can't recall a day even now of one ever worse than that one. Didn't pull either. Bummer.

Student Days

Sex. Booze and Drugs.

The recollection is a little hazy.....

Out with the hip hop gangsta rap music, Snake bites, V&T's and Rothmans. In with Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley, Massive Attack, Velvet Underground, The Doors and James Brown, Roll up tobacco, Marijuana and cheapo HSL (High Strength Lager).

Here's a chronological flash back account of parties I can remember:


Booze, stoned house mates, dope and chicken 'n' chips meal.

Housemate's birthday party, lots of passed out/stoned strange people in the hallway, dope and sausage sandwiches.

Homebrewed booze, lots of spaced out students, dope and acid, a big snake circling around the room, little smartie type pills scattered on the floor, bugs crawling on my hands, a poster of Jesus's crufix made from lots of dead bodies, lots of lemons and someone elses chips.

Found dead chicken in the bathroom sink after coming back from nightclub. Housemate thought it was funny.

Housemate's friends from Yorkshire, Special Brew, dope, setting fire to the garden, pot shots with a sling at the glass windows of the shed at the back of the garden, angry landlord, no deposit back, fried egg sandwiches.

Conclusion: All this excitment courtesy of the tax payer.

Ex Man Utd star for sale.

Being the geeky type I read geeky websites. But every so often there are some amusing articles. One I found was this:

http://www.theregister.co.uk/2006/07/05/ronaldo_transferred/