Self Imposed Censorship

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

Perfection

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

An Electric Feeling

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

Losing my brain power

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

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

It is very true.

Weather Babe

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

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

Getting older and Cars.

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

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

Addictive TV

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

Parties

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

5 - 13 years old

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

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

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

Teenage years

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

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

I'm glad I missed out on that one.

18 - 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Student Days

Sex. Booze and Drugs.

The recollection is a little hazy.....

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion: All this excitment courtesy of the tax payer.

Ex Man Utd star for sale.

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

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

FHM, LOADED, etc....

LADS MAGS: Make them 'top shelf', says MP

Sexually explicit 'lads mags, should be kept on the top shelves in newsagents along with porn mags to keep them out of reach of children, a Labour MP will tell the House of Commons today.

The MP for Crosby, Merseyside, Claire Curtis-Thomas, says the content of the magazines is 'repulsive' and 'degrading to women'.

But under current voluntary rules the magazines can be displayed alongside newspapers and lifestyle mags.

Ms Curtis-Thomas will present her Regulation of Sale and Display of Sexually Explicit Material Bill in the Commons under the Ten-minute Rule Bill and call for a new regulatory body to oversee the sale of sexually explicit magazines which are not regarded as 'top shelf'.

Ms Curtis-Thomas said, " Whilst I am not advocating the censorship and prohibition of such literature for adults, there must be safeguards in place to protect minors from this obscene material."


What will ever happen to the Sun newspaper or The Daily Sport then eh ? Eventually they'll ban everything to the top shelf. My newsagent Mr Shah will probably have to re-mortgage his house and family to pay for an extension on his top shelf.

Behind Every Good Woman is a good .....

So there we have it. Hazel Blears (or Blair) has announced that the current leadership of the Labour party is not great. Ok. We know that. More interestingly though is the enthusiastic criticism of David Cameron and his red/blue party. It's time a female MP stepped up to almost suggest that perhaps she can do the job better herself. I'm not being sexist in any way whatsoever. Think about it. Gordon Brown up against the new boy in the next election ? Gordy wouldn't stand a chance. A slightly over than middle aged man who likes listening to the "Arctic Monkey's ?" (I think he said that in an interview once) Why not give it to someone already outspoken about the reality of the failures of New Labour eh ? So she can in one breath, discredit the leadership skills of present and potential PM and make amends. Oh, and she'd make a great Prime Minister in much the same way Maggie did. What goes around comes around ?

She seems to be a very clear candidate for the leadership. A very confident one......and may just save the Labour party.

Arty Things

For those who have seen my etchings, will know of my fondness for art. Indeed I would like one day to pick up that paint brush again and paint pictures. Alas my profession is very far removed from the delights of artistic creativity. So while random googling, I came across this website. Weird but wonderful. Ray Caesar, top bloke if slightly odd.

....come to think of it. How did I get to that website ?

Moron Aurora

.....yes I haven't quite finished with this one yet. Conspiracy theory and all that bollocks. I really, really detest people who due to an overactive imagination decide to announce to the world that they KNOW it exists and almost suggest that they've even seen one working.

Here's one mad scientists' view of it all. Twat.

....one more thing an amendment to the last post. When I searched for Project Aurora. The link given below was actually the very first of the google results.

Project Aurora

The BBC news website is an amazing place for factual information as well as up to date news. So looking at it this morning I came across a video clip of what initally I thought was proof that this 'other worldly' technology exists. A super duper mega fast top secret can't tell anyone otherwise we'll kidnap your goldfish, spy plane has finally being admitted to existing. How many times have we seen this before. Ten years from now 'they'll' say that they do indeed have one. Scientists analysing huge sonic booms over 'Area 51' are mystified as to what it could be. Frankly I find the mysterious sonic booms that I hear in the middle of the night eminating from my neighbours house far more fascinating. Of course its a super duper mega fast top secret can't tell anyone otherwise we'll kidnap your goldfish, spy plane!!

Being the curious minded person that I am I decided to ask Google what Project Aurora is and this is what it came up with ...... Click me for Project Aurora

A Dear Friend

This unusually hot weather has clearly got the caring sharing nature out of me. Nope. Not really. I just thought I could convince myself otherwise.

An interesting article in the Guardian (I think) this morning suggesting that coffee is quite beneficial for the liver and prevents damage to it by alchohol. That makes very dangerous reading for some people. A licence to drink more or drink more and more.

I have a dear close friend of mine who I think is the most amazing bloke I know. Kind, witty and an extremely good sense of humour, oh and very well travelled. Without his friendship would be a tragedy without a doubt. He likes a drink. He is famed for his ability to appear sober when one is clearly not and on many occasion have I enjoyed humorous and deeply intellectual conversation throughout the many stages of drunkeness. This friend of mine manages to have the knack of living on coffee, cigarettes and booze, and it is a very rare occassion that he eats. For him its more of an obligation. He shrivels at the very mention of water.

So this article in the newspaper (actually pointed out on the Wright Stuff) horrified me. To the many out there that struggle to keep a lid on drinking and as is the case with this country, pointed out numerous times about the binge drinking culture that is all too common, why on earth would this article be of any use to anyone desperately trying to kick the habit or at least bring it under some control ? Of course for the sensible drinker it would clearly be a benefit. But I'm being selfish here. I worry about my friend. I hope to God that he doesn't see the article. I would like to think that he's going to be around a great deal longer. Cut down. Please.

Did I mention .....

For those who knew me in a previous blog (which I now regret deleting, as in all honesty I shouldn't have accommodated some of the more sensitive characters that I may have slightly upset. Damn it! Its my blog and I'll blog if I want to!), will know that I used to have a guard turtle. A common snapping turtle. Unfortunately, and I'm sure those with a little more commonsense than me would have said 'I told you so', realised that this rather savage beast was showing potential for inflicting serious damage to anything that cam near it. He (or she) has now been re-homed by my friendly pet shop keeper.

I now have Piranha's. Three of them. What amazing animals. I'm already doing impressions of Dr Evil (the character out of Austin Powers). In all seriousness I thought long and hard about making this decision especially after the snapping turtle affair. Once bitten twice shy! Boom!! Boom!!

The Dope

Whilst enjoying a well earned break from my busy working life, I was invited along to a most interesting cafe in the east end of London. Nice place. Good food. Comfortable seats. Slightly iffy latrines (I haven't heard of anyone using that word for years so I thought I'd resurect its use hear and for the slightly less articulate amongst you, toilets). Oh and booze.

Rewind about three weeks ago. A new member of staff joined our professional team. It was my job to bring him under my wing and train him as fast as possible since the team were erm not exactly a team due to people leaving for other jobs. Ok. You get my point.

This chap who shall not be named has a unique ability to learn new skills very very fast and I must say that I am very proud of him so far for how quickly he has eased himself into the working routine...

...through out the getting to know you phase, several subtle hints were dropped into conversation about his fondness for the things that grow naturally, then dried and then smoked and visits to Amsterdam. Being an ex student myself I found this line of conversation rather interesting. So after a few beers one night it was decided that this fine gentleman would take me to a reputable establishment in the east end.

Forward about three weeks....So the day came. Like a grand adventure to this mythical (for some) place, loaded with fagerettes (term used by my mate Dave) and money off we went. It was a warm slightly overcast day but with no sign of rain. The Sun didn't seem to want to make the effort to come out that day, perhaps because it too was anticipating for what was to come. Perhaps it too knew that I'd forgotten my shades and had no protection from bright lights later that day and so kindly hid itself. Anyway. We were due to meet my new colleague's (we'll refer to my colleague as Kumar for the purpose of this story.) mate there as he was providing some of the unique ingredient that would make this day special.

....half and hour later.....armed with and beer in hand, Kumar with his trade mark can of Coke (that's Coca Cola) we sit on luxurious sofas provided by this fine establishment. We spend what seemed like hours talking about many joyous and humorous recollections of our student days, laughing out loud whilst swigging on beer and coca cola then like an apparition appears a tall dark shadow slowly walking towards us, no actually sliding towards us, as if he were on ice. His right arm lifts momentarily as he recognises Kumar. As the subtle lighting slowly reveals his face, I thought he looks like a man who's quite worldly and wise, and a man with hands that have only two purposes in life, one has some thing to do with his job and the other, to roll. Yeah...

The day although it seemed like twilight by this point, was working out well, beer in hand, Kumar rolling like tomorrow was his last day on Earth and the friendly stranger sat opposite to me talking about some of the more fascinating things in life.....Like some of his experiences with mother natures pain relief, relaxation, stress relieving produces and the many ways to apply this to ones self and Cheech and Chong scenes. At this point it would be appropriate to give this friendly chap a name. I shall call him Harrison.

It was at a certain point that the suggestion of playing pool was made. Playing pool under the influence was certainly going to be an unusual experience indeed. The journey alone to get to this place was as immense as the journey to get to the cafe. On arrival and clearly the three of us trying to behave normally (at this point the appropriate question would have been what is nortnal ?), purchased some allocated time at the pool table. Of course the establishment required a deposit for the table. The three of us line astern reached for our wallets to produce the deposit, it was I that managed this feat first. Perhaps it had something to do with gaining the attention of the extremely attractive barmaid. A hour's worth of pool then. With confidence at and all time high and the cockiness of a teenage school boy out to impress the girl (barmaid) I strode up to the pool table and certain to clean up the first game. I very nearly did except for the fact that Harrison had potted the black on his first shot. Oh well.

As this strange substence was making its effects felt, this now extremely attractive barmaid had some how become not quite so. Perhaps's its because it was the realisation that indeed what might have happened all along was that I had been staring at the poster of the pretty lady holding a bottle of beer behind the bar. Oh dear.

Pool over and there was only one thing for it. Back to the cafe which as time had past had seemed to have become all the more inviting. Having lost our original seats to a young friendly looking couple, we sought out a corner of the cafe with some rather inviting sofa's. Kumar was already at work. I with a flick of the lighter continued proceedings. The afternoon wore on and as it did, my ability to converse seemed to be at odds with the physical movements of my mouth. It was at this stage that I took a step backwards from the conversation that Kumar and Harrison were having.
Like a flash (admittedly a rather dim one), I realised what I was witnessing before my eyes. I had seen these guys somewhere before. Where ? where ? where ? rolled the question. Until it finally twigged. Harold and Kumar get the Munchies! Yes! Yes! Yes! The more I visualised the characters in the movie the more I could see the resemblence. I'm not stereotyping or anything remotely like that but true to they're ficticious counterparts, one indian and the other oriental. It couldn't have got any weirder than that.

New Mobile Phone

I got a new belated birthday present the other day. A fantastic top of the range mobile phone. A highly advanced piece of technology designed to make everyday life more efficient and easy. Not likely. Four attempts at informing my friends and family failed spectacularly. More so embarrassing due to the fact that I should be fairly competent at these things in my game. My only amusement comes from the fact that for the times that I failed to send a complete message, I got replies back from friends and family asking who the sender was. Out of all those people, I wonder what percentage of those were likely to have been a little worried due to either debt collectors/secret lovers/unwanted pests etc.....

Favorite Post Pub Food

While hard at work with the BBC News 24 channel in the background pumping out more depressing news, I listened to the news of several arrests relating to terrorism. Apparently, the surveillance carried out included internet cafe's, peoples homes and kebab shops. Kebab shops ?

I on occassions enjoy the delights of a polystyrene box of heart attack food but would never have expected the old kebab shop to be a venue for plotting world domination. Imagine that ? Chief Al-Qaeda generals sitting round a table with secret schematics and plans for attacks on targets around the country munching on a large meat (could be chicken because its healthier) doner, extra chilli sauce and a large helping of salad minus the beer, presumably because said nutters don't drink the evil that is alchohol. What ever next ?

I guess US CIA operatives counter planning a strategy to end world terrorism in the bowels of McDonalds!!!

Eurovision Song Contest

Well, well, well. You really do have to question what the world is coming to when you see a bunch of Devil worshippers (allegdly) winning the contest (by a wide margin too). What next ? An entry from Opus Dei ? That would make an interesting religious battleground between good and evil. The event of the year. With Terry Wogan commentating.