Monsters of Old

As a child I had an obession with dinosaurs and mythical creatures such as dragons and the loch ness monster. I used to read and paint them to a point whereby my parents thought that the obession got rather unhealthy. That phase passed over time as other exciting things like women took over.

I was watching Swimming with Sea Monsters last night and I must admit that the programme ran for an amazing hour and a half. I actually felt quite immersed in amongst all those sea creatures, some frightening and some awe inspiring. It got me thinking later that night and this night about how perhaps mythology and prehistory creatures may actually be similar or the same. Many archiologists believe in the old asteroid killed the dinosaurs theory which is all well and good but many paintings such as St George and the dragon, or the depiction of slinky, massive sea monsters in etchings/drawing from sailor of old that resemble the scientific paintings/drawings. Is there any truth to these tales? Perhaps. There are two clear ways to think about why these creatures in mythological paintings came to be. The first being at the point in history that people painted these weird and wonderful creatures. Many things at the time could not have been explained. Dragon slaying was a popular past time back then. With so many accounts of such encounters it really does add some truth to the fact that some kinds of dinosaurs did survive but were at that stage were indeed on the verge of extinction and not some sixty five million years ago. Or the possible mistake of an oversized snake. Either way, as the monsters of the time were seen as a threat they were no doubt seen as something to kill. We shall never know for sure but I do suspect that there may have been a little more than an exaggeration.

Guy Fawkes and Bonfires

I won't bother with the history of the attempted blowing up of parliament all those hundreds of years ago. But its this time of year again, the 5th of November and yet another couple of days of smoky nights, bright lights and pops and bangs and whistles. I loved going to see the shows and even setting off a few in my parents backyard. My poor cats racing for cover under the bed. My morbid question of the day is, how many people will have been shot at tonight? Scary. The other thing that got me thinking was how in the media (again) they have raised the question of whether we should be celebrating guy fawkes night. Why on earth raise such a debate? For children it is a time for fun and enjoyment and for adults much the same. I sat here last night at one point wondering when it would end as the endless popping and banging was getting on my nerves. A sign of getting older? Then I changed my mind today. It is one of the few days in the year that the skies are lit with some of the most beautiful and spectular shows. The question may have been raise because not so long ago Hindus celebrated Diwali, The Festival of Light. A glorious celebration. It is the sound and vision representing many people having fun. So why make that sound like a bad thing?

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.

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

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

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

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

Addicted to...

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

Commitments

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

Your 'avin aiee larf!!

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

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

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

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

Agent: "Well its for a commercial advert"

Sean: "What sort of advert?"

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

Sean: "Yes?"

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

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

Ta daaa!!!!!

A Little Harsh

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

Chefs and Cooks part Deux

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

Chefs and Cooks

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

One of Lifes Mysteries

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

Blunket you fool

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

This Towns Gotta Bad Reputation

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

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



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

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

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

South London Invasion

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

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

What is a Blog?

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

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

So there you go Blarney Pickle.

At last, the truth.....

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

Bread and other food gripes...

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

Books

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

The High's and Low's of Highs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


CLICK HERE for the New Scientist Article.

Something to worry your wives and girlfriends

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

There's a line in the article that says:

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

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

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

Here's the article.

Food Glorious Food.

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

Showbiz Darts

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

Life Stands Still

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


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

Big Ron the Racist

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

Umm speaking of...

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

Umm

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

Hit PC Plod and get £100 ....

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

What on Earth?

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

What has happened to David Hasselhoff?

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

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

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

Barry and Cheriegate

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

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

Down with Tony Blair and up with Caroline Lucas.

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

The Wright Stuff

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

A couple of things to note.

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

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

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

Assume the Lotus Position

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

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

Fantastic Art

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

FOR SALE

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

F**king Cats

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

Non Allergic Pussy

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

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

BBC article here.

Angels

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

In the name of Health and Fitness

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

Medical Care

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

"Healthy LunchBox Advice Offered".

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

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

Pause for Thought

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

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

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


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

Booze, Fags and Fitness

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

Crappy movies and even crappier sci-fi movies

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

That time of the Year

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

Where on Earth....

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

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

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

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


Enjoy!!!!

Pointless Evening

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

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

A challenge to the bloke who wrote in earlier about dating

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

Stupidity and other irritations

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

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

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

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

Irritation

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

Getting a little older

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

My friend the Policeman

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

Fast forward to the near present.

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

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