The day I stop standing up for myself, because it would undoubtedly make my life easier, will be the day to die.
The day I stop despising needless bureaucracy, or pander to the pathetic agendas of the ‘Clipboard Nazi brigade’, will be the day to die.
The day I walk past the wheelchair bound man in the street playing his harmonica for pennies, and feel nothing, will be the day to die.
The day I watch a charity appeal on TV, and not feel pangs of guilt, or feel so terribly ashamed at how easily I forget about how much I have got, will be the day to die.
The day I stop driving Miss Marple mad with my "funny voices", will be the day to die.
The day the child in me goes to bed one night, but doesn’t wake up the next morning, will be the day to die.
The day I feel I am too old to daydream about running up and down corridors in the Death Star, shooting storm troopers with my laser blaster, will be the day to die.
The day I take Ronnie and Reggie for a sensible walk, instead of trying to find the German’s base, will be the day to die.
The day I look at Miss Marple, and stop wondering why the fuck she puts up with me, will be the day to die.
The day the tears fail to run down my face, when I see the disgraceful way in which human beings can treat each other, will be the day to die.
The day I don’t want to punch every politician in their smug, self serving, faces, will be the day to die.
The day I buy a cardigan and fall into line with the ‘Margo’s’, will be the day to die.
The day I wear a tie to work!, will be the day to die.
The day I let my sometimes all consuming frustrations and exasperations, turn into genuine bitterness and spitefulness, will be the day to die.
The day I fail to snigger at a really good fart!, will be the day to die.
The day I stop wishing I had the balls to become a vegetarian, will be the day to die.
The day I fail to think that Lara Croft (The computer generated version) is worth a meeting with Mrs. Thumb, and her four delectable daughters! That’ll upset the Margo’s…….Fuck ‘em. Will be the day to die.
The day I am content with a nice family Christmas! Will be the day to die.
The day I find a well placed swear word offensive, will be the day to die.
The day the songs of Stevie Wonder fail to slap me in the face with their genius. The day tears don’t well in my eyes when hearing the beautiful simplicity of Eva Cassidy singing ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’ The day I know longer am able to begrudgingly admit that the Gallagher brothers ‘Wonder Wall’ Is a work of gritty and passionate brilliance. The day that the first few bars of ‘Purple haze’ don’t make me want to turn up the stereo to eleven, pour a huge Jack Daniels, start smoking again, and flamethrower the Margo’s. . . . . . . will be the day to die!
The day I write something to please someone else, instead of myself, will be the day to die…….Unless it was for mega bucks of course, that would just be foolish!
We all have to die. Don’t do it before your heart stops beating.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Anger management - Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like me when i'm angry - When green is not always good!
I just couldn’t decide which of the three titles I liked the best, so I chose all three! You see, that’s the brilliant thing about a democracy, choice. And among millions of others, I have my grandfathers to thank for that. So thank you, and bless you Albert and Douglas, though some might say that your valiant and brave efforts were sadly in vain…….I however, like to think not. X X
I thought as I trudged ever more wearily towards the grave, that the Hulk like rage within me would begin to subside. I foolishly believed that with age, I would adopt a more stoic outlook on life, and things in general would become calmer inside my volcanic like mind.
Who was I kidding? No, it’s getting worse day by day. I suppose I have fallen into the ‘Grumpy old man’ trap. The thing is you see, despite what everyone probably thinks, I don’t want to be like this, it’s sort of quite fashionable nowadays to be a ‘Grumpy old man’ but I have never been fashionable, and have no intention of starting now. I would very much like to be normal! I would much rather be Bruce Banner, than his big green counterpart.
But as the sub heading of this blog says, Ignorance is bliss, until one is surrounded by it! And boy there are some areas of my existence that are positively awash with it!
Bob Geldof, who is usually quite irritating, actually pretty much summed it up on the program ‘Grumpy old men’. When asked by the interviewer, why he was grumpy he replied…….
"If you’re not grumpy, it implies that you’re ok with the world…….and who the fuck is that!"
I can wake up in the morning, and after recovering from the shock of making it through another night, can sometimes be (I am going to say it) cheerful! (ouch that smarts), but it only takes some inane utterance from Fiona Phillips on GMTV, or some news report about some bizarre decision by some council or other, and I am off! And that’s pretty much me for the rest of the day.
I am afraid that my killing spree has had to be postponed due to the credit crunch! Yes we are all having to tighten our belts, even us homicidal maniacs!
Can I just interject here, and say that I am aware that there is a section of my readers who were not blessed with any kind of sense of humour, or commen sense at all, and to those I must point out that this is a joke. Maybe on a Ross and Brand level, but never the less, a joke…….Bless them.
Yes the recession has meant that the purchase of firearms and ammo has had to be delayed. I was fortunate enough to have secured the floor length black leather Matrix style coat before my hedge fund collapsed, and my Great Aunt Agnes said she would sort out the bandana for me. Oh come on, every self respecting, gun totting, inadequate, friendless sociopath with a grudge and an Uzi should have a bandana, its part of the uniform.
Oh the times I have sat day dreaming of that fateful day, when I don all my gear. The coat, the boots, the sunglasses…….THE BANADANA! Cock my Uzi, ready my bazooka, and march purposefully into action, in slow motion of course. A wall of fire rages behind me, as I run amok to the sound of Nickleback at one hundred and forty decibels.
Taking out councilors, traffic wardens, politicians, benefit scroungers, caravaners, illegal immigrants, cyclists (only the road traffic law disobeying ones, and the one’s without lights in winter of course), the vast majority of Americans, GMTV, Big brother, Paris Hilton, Most TV chefs (especially Oliver), all twenty-seven thousand Ross/Brand complainers…….you get the picture!
It’s normally only the sound of the car horn, the screeching of tyres and the swerving of the on-coming car that snaps me out of my fantasy!
Can I just reiterate for any over zealous MI5 operatives, or a hot headed (That’s rich!) over enthusiastic CIA agent, that this is just my idea of a rather unpalatable (Maybe) joke. If any of you MI5 or CIA people have stumbled upon this blog by accident, or indeed specifically targeted it, especially as I now seem to be public enemy number one! Lol, yes I seem to have become a kind of blogging Che Guevara character, except my berry is not black with a red star motive, it’s more creamy with a hint of lilac, and a sequined crescent moon insignia, then please don’t waste valuable time, effort, and resources getting me out of bed at five o’clock in the morning, and dragging me, and my computer (in the obligatory plastic bag) into Paddington Green anti terrorist ‘Suite’ for questioning. There are far bigger fish to fry. There is that Bin Laden bloke for a start, you have quite frankly made a complete arse of that so far, so pick on him, not me!
THIS IS A JOKE! …….
Thinking about it, I wonder if that is how old Bin Laden has got away with it so far? Maybe one morning in the Tora Bora Mountains, members of America’s elite ‘Delta force’ dragged old Binny baby out of his cave, and told him he was nicked (Or whatever the Americans say). To which he replied,
"You what, I was only joking guv’ner, I’m just a cheeky chappie." To which the Americans replied
"Well why didn’t you say sooner, we wouldn’t have got you out of bed at such an early hour sir. Sorry about that pal, hope I didn’t offend you in any way as I cuffed you and threw you to the ground. Here, fill in this compensation form, and send it to this address. It’s no win, no fee, so you can’t lose. Have a nice day."
A few weeks ago, I watched a program with Griff Rhys Jones……. (When I say with, I mean he was presenting it, not sitting next to me on the sofa), about anger. It wasn’t very good quite frankly, and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know…….I was livid!
Maybe I should book myself onto an ‘Anger management course’, but I would probably find all the other people there really bloody annoying. Anyway, I don’t think I really want my anger ‘managed’, I don’t want it there in the first place. But that is a bit like saying, I want to breathe, but I’m not keen on the oxygen bit. So I suppose I’m stuck with it.
People have told me to take a deep breath, and count to ten. It’s just delaying the eruption really. In all honesty, it’s just building up a bigger head of steam. Sigh…….
It’s poor Miss Marple who is the victim in all of this really. It’s funny, because she is the complete opposite. Very very rarely does she lose it, and is more prone to tears than homicide! I have been so mad in the past, that I have on occasion, asked her to slap me, to see if it would alleviate the pressure. (Much like Basil asking Polly to slap him in Fawlty towers), but Miss Marple is such a sweetheart; she just can’t work up enough gusto to give it the relevant oomph! So I have done it myself! Lol. I often think what I must look like, bouncing round the kitchen or whatever, slapping myself about the face!
Well I suppose I’d better sign off now. Off to watch the news to see how many more suburban, moronic, Daily Mail reading, ignorant, know nothing, tedious, caravan holidaying, cretinous……(Deep breath)…….bandwagon jumping, knee jerk reactionary, "safe", traditional, mediocre, meat and two veg, "What’s happened to standards", …….(inhale)……."Back in the good old days", cardigan wearing, "I vote Tory, just cause I always have", ‘Allo Allo’ watching, Royalist twats!.......(Bows, and wallows in the applause). Have complained about Ross and Brand now.
Just for future ref. Instead of going through all that rigmarole every time I want to mention these "types" of people. To make it easier, I will call them "Margo’s" from now on. As in Margo from the good life. (She was actually a wonderful comic creation, but sums up nicely what I am talking about).
So if a Margo ever tells you that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, just tell them that "The only way is up then"!
Keep strong brothers and sisters, and may the force be with you.
I have a couple of PS’s
PS1 I would like to welcome any new readers, and hope that their stay here is a pleasant one. To save new disciples from having to trawl through wads of previous tosh, I am thinking of doing a special ‘HIGHLIGHTS’ Blog.
PS2 If the ‘Margo’s’ were "Appalled" by Jonathan and Russell, stick this one up your twin set. With kind regards from the acerbic genius that is Frankie Boyle…….
The Queen is now so old, her pussy is haunted!
Peace and love to those who deserve it, and big fat bollocks to the rest.
I thought as I trudged ever more wearily towards the grave, that the Hulk like rage within me would begin to subside. I foolishly believed that with age, I would adopt a more stoic outlook on life, and things in general would become calmer inside my volcanic like mind.
Who was I kidding? No, it’s getting worse day by day. I suppose I have fallen into the ‘Grumpy old man’ trap. The thing is you see, despite what everyone probably thinks, I don’t want to be like this, it’s sort of quite fashionable nowadays to be a ‘Grumpy old man’ but I have never been fashionable, and have no intention of starting now. I would very much like to be normal! I would much rather be Bruce Banner, than his big green counterpart.
But as the sub heading of this blog says, Ignorance is bliss, until one is surrounded by it! And boy there are some areas of my existence that are positively awash with it!
Bob Geldof, who is usually quite irritating, actually pretty much summed it up on the program ‘Grumpy old men’. When asked by the interviewer, why he was grumpy he replied…….
"If you’re not grumpy, it implies that you’re ok with the world…….and who the fuck is that!"
I can wake up in the morning, and after recovering from the shock of making it through another night, can sometimes be (I am going to say it) cheerful! (ouch that smarts), but it only takes some inane utterance from Fiona Phillips on GMTV, or some news report about some bizarre decision by some council or other, and I am off! And that’s pretty much me for the rest of the day.
I am afraid that my killing spree has had to be postponed due to the credit crunch! Yes we are all having to tighten our belts, even us homicidal maniacs!
Can I just interject here, and say that I am aware that there is a section of my readers who were not blessed with any kind of sense of humour, or commen sense at all, and to those I must point out that this is a joke. Maybe on a Ross and Brand level, but never the less, a joke…….Bless them.
Yes the recession has meant that the purchase of firearms and ammo has had to be delayed. I was fortunate enough to have secured the floor length black leather Matrix style coat before my hedge fund collapsed, and my Great Aunt Agnes said she would sort out the bandana for me. Oh come on, every self respecting, gun totting, inadequate, friendless sociopath with a grudge and an Uzi should have a bandana, its part of the uniform.
Oh the times I have sat day dreaming of that fateful day, when I don all my gear. The coat, the boots, the sunglasses…….THE BANADANA! Cock my Uzi, ready my bazooka, and march purposefully into action, in slow motion of course. A wall of fire rages behind me, as I run amok to the sound of Nickleback at one hundred and forty decibels.
Taking out councilors, traffic wardens, politicians, benefit scroungers, caravaners, illegal immigrants, cyclists (only the road traffic law disobeying ones, and the one’s without lights in winter of course), the vast majority of Americans, GMTV, Big brother, Paris Hilton, Most TV chefs (especially Oliver), all twenty-seven thousand Ross/Brand complainers…….you get the picture!
It’s normally only the sound of the car horn, the screeching of tyres and the swerving of the on-coming car that snaps me out of my fantasy!
Can I just reiterate for any over zealous MI5 operatives, or a hot headed (That’s rich!) over enthusiastic CIA agent, that this is just my idea of a rather unpalatable (Maybe) joke. If any of you MI5 or CIA people have stumbled upon this blog by accident, or indeed specifically targeted it, especially as I now seem to be public enemy number one! Lol, yes I seem to have become a kind of blogging Che Guevara character, except my berry is not black with a red star motive, it’s more creamy with a hint of lilac, and a sequined crescent moon insignia, then please don’t waste valuable time, effort, and resources getting me out of bed at five o’clock in the morning, and dragging me, and my computer (in the obligatory plastic bag) into Paddington Green anti terrorist ‘Suite’ for questioning. There are far bigger fish to fry. There is that Bin Laden bloke for a start, you have quite frankly made a complete arse of that so far, so pick on him, not me!
THIS IS A JOKE! …….
Thinking about it, I wonder if that is how old Bin Laden has got away with it so far? Maybe one morning in the Tora Bora Mountains, members of America’s elite ‘Delta force’ dragged old Binny baby out of his cave, and told him he was nicked (Or whatever the Americans say). To which he replied,
"You what, I was only joking guv’ner, I’m just a cheeky chappie." To which the Americans replied
"Well why didn’t you say sooner, we wouldn’t have got you out of bed at such an early hour sir. Sorry about that pal, hope I didn’t offend you in any way as I cuffed you and threw you to the ground. Here, fill in this compensation form, and send it to this address. It’s no win, no fee, so you can’t lose. Have a nice day."
A few weeks ago, I watched a program with Griff Rhys Jones……. (When I say with, I mean he was presenting it, not sitting next to me on the sofa), about anger. It wasn’t very good quite frankly, and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know…….I was livid!
Maybe I should book myself onto an ‘Anger management course’, but I would probably find all the other people there really bloody annoying. Anyway, I don’t think I really want my anger ‘managed’, I don’t want it there in the first place. But that is a bit like saying, I want to breathe, but I’m not keen on the oxygen bit. So I suppose I’m stuck with it.
People have told me to take a deep breath, and count to ten. It’s just delaying the eruption really. In all honesty, it’s just building up a bigger head of steam. Sigh…….
It’s poor Miss Marple who is the victim in all of this really. It’s funny, because she is the complete opposite. Very very rarely does she lose it, and is more prone to tears than homicide! I have been so mad in the past, that I have on occasion, asked her to slap me, to see if it would alleviate the pressure. (Much like Basil asking Polly to slap him in Fawlty towers), but Miss Marple is such a sweetheart; she just can’t work up enough gusto to give it the relevant oomph! So I have done it myself! Lol. I often think what I must look like, bouncing round the kitchen or whatever, slapping myself about the face!
Well I suppose I’d better sign off now. Off to watch the news to see how many more suburban, moronic, Daily Mail reading, ignorant, know nothing, tedious, caravan holidaying, cretinous……(Deep breath)…….bandwagon jumping, knee jerk reactionary, "safe", traditional, mediocre, meat and two veg, "What’s happened to standards", …….(inhale)……."Back in the good old days", cardigan wearing, "I vote Tory, just cause I always have", ‘Allo Allo’ watching, Royalist twats!.......(Bows, and wallows in the applause). Have complained about Ross and Brand now.
Just for future ref. Instead of going through all that rigmarole every time I want to mention these "types" of people. To make it easier, I will call them "Margo’s" from now on. As in Margo from the good life. (She was actually a wonderful comic creation, but sums up nicely what I am talking about).
So if a Margo ever tells you that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, just tell them that "The only way is up then"!
Keep strong brothers and sisters, and may the force be with you.
I have a couple of PS’s
PS1 I would like to welcome any new readers, and hope that their stay here is a pleasant one. To save new disciples from having to trawl through wads of previous tosh, I am thinking of doing a special ‘HIGHLIGHTS’ Blog.
PS2 If the ‘Margo’s’ were "Appalled" by Jonathan and Russell, stick this one up your twin set. With kind regards from the acerbic genius that is Frankie Boyle…….
The Queen is now so old, her pussy is haunted!
Peace and love to those who deserve it, and big fat bollocks to the rest.
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Agent X
May I offer my humble support to messers Brand and Ross. Yes they have been silly boys, but this is a shining beacon of an example of how the inhabitants of this planet today, like to blow things out of all proportion. (There is a lot of it about). Mr Sachs has been wonderfully magnanimous in his acceptance of their apologies, and probably wants nothing more to do with the whole overblown, over publicised load of old nonsense.
May I also offer a humble metaphoric two fingers, to all the 18,000, yes that's right 18,000 morons with nothing better to do, who decided to complain. The vast majority of whom, i am sure didn't listen to the broadcast, and probably don't have a clue who Russell Brand is.
But they saw a bandwagon, and boy did they run hard to jump right on board!
We all know who they are. Dialy Mail reading, Caravan holidaying, small minded, Antiques Roadshow watching, Mr & Mrs Suburbia.
But the real Villian of the piece, is I am sure taking her clothes off somewhere, as a member of the 'Satanic sluts' or whatever they are called. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but what i do find offensive, is her blatant self promotion. Plastered all over the papers, telling us all how terrible it all is for her poor old grandfather, but failing to mention how wonderful it all is for her "career". I am sure she will find this a huge leg over, oops sorry, a freudian slip of the fingers there! leg up the celebrity ladder.
May I also offer a humble metaphoric two fingers, to all the 18,000, yes that's right 18,000 morons with nothing better to do, who decided to complain. The vast majority of whom, i am sure didn't listen to the broadcast, and probably don't have a clue who Russell Brand is.
But they saw a bandwagon, and boy did they run hard to jump right on board!
We all know who they are. Dialy Mail reading, Caravan holidaying, small minded, Antiques Roadshow watching, Mr & Mrs Suburbia.
But the real Villian of the piece, is I am sure taking her clothes off somewhere, as a member of the 'Satanic sluts' or whatever they are called. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but what i do find offensive, is her blatant self promotion. Plastered all over the papers, telling us all how terrible it all is for her poor old grandfather, but failing to mention how wonderful it all is for her "career". I am sure she will find this a huge leg over, oops sorry, a freudian slip of the fingers there! leg up the celebrity ladder.
Monday, 29 September 2008
Confusaneus exasperatio
confusaneus exasperatio
Or random irritations to you and me. Look, before either of my readers emails, texts, phones or calls round to tell me that the above is not the technically correct translation, i googled it ok. That was the best it came up with.
Random Irritations
(You realise this could go on forever don’t you)
Oh well, take a deep breath, tighten your safety harnesses’ and splice the main brace…….we have lift off.
Davina McCall – Absolutely no explanation needed
Big Brother - See above
Our Tupperware box cupboard – Yes, I have a deep seated hatred for the ‘cupboard form hell’ as I have named it. Even if the diligent Miss Marple has neatly stacked all the bottoms, and all the lids, I am still crushed by an avalanche of plastic every time I open the bloody thing.
Pointless barking – Ronnie and Reggie obviously bark when someone comes to the house, they see this as their job, and I fully support them in this work related exercise. What I can’t abide however, is woofing for no apparent reason.
This almost without fail always occurs just as I am raising a cup of tea to my lips. They wait for the optimum moment, and WOOF. This results in me jumping and twitching like Jack Douglas from the ‘Carry on’ films, smacking myself in the teeth with the cup, and spending the afternoon in casualty with third degree burns. Then they have the audacity to look at me with that . . . . . . . "What?" look on their face.
Unwanted ‘me time’ apparitions – If one is having a little ‘me time’, why at just the wrong moment, do people I don’t want in my head, suddenly appear there? Old Jim next door, a dead grandparent, Hugh Edwards!. . . . . . . Davina McCall. Sigh.
Davina McCall
The failure of scientists to invent the personal jet pack – When I was a small boy (Miss Marple would say that I still am!) Raymond Baxter on ‘Tomorrows World’ promised me, that by the year 2000, we would all be going to work using jet packs. WHY HASN’T THIS HAPPENED? I’ll tell you why, because instead of using their time and funding to invent brilliant things like jet packs, scientists waste it working out that people don’t like Mondays, or that burnt toast gives you cancer. Come on, pull your fingers out!
Having one ear lower than the other – This wouldn’t normally be a huge problem, but I wear glasses. So when I am trying to appear immensely sophisticated, the glasses slewed across my face, at what appears to me to be a forty-five degree angle, just make me look village idiotish.
Always being in someone’s way at social functions – It’s incredible, but wherever I stand at any social gathering, I seem to be in the way. If I’m in a pub, even if I am standing in a corner, somebody will want to get past. For experimental purposes, whilst I was at a wedding once, I took my pint, and went and stood in the field next door. Low and behold, within five minutes, I was hearing the words "excuse me," followed by tutting!
Being invisible at social functions – Why do I seem to be wearing some sort of cloaking device, when standing at a bar? I don’t understand it. I am fourteen and a half stone, not overly short, and I have one ear lower than the other, I’m not that easily miss able! But no, stand at a bar, and I become as "HELLO I’M HERE EVEYBODY" as an F117 stealth fighter.
Social functions
Jamie bloody Oliver – Ooooh can I punch him, can I? I don’t know, he just irritates me. His bloody Sainsbury’s adverts, him banging on and on about bloody school dinners. Shut up Jamie, leave people alone. I salute those mothers that were sticking burgers through the bars of the school playground. Not because I think child obesity is a good thing, but just because it was a two fingers to you Oliver.
Even back in the old days he was fucking annoying. ‘The naked chef’. There he was, a middle class boy pretending to be all ‘street’ and cockney. "smashing, there you go darlin’, pucker" and all that crap. Cooking in his trendy apartment, in his trendy kitchen.
Then all his trendy mates come round. Samantha, Josh, ‘Steevo’, Matt or whatever they are called. Then we have to watch them all tucking in, and saluting the great Oliver, while ‘Top Loader’ plays in the background……."We get it on most every night……." AAAARGGHHHHHH shut up! And then to top it all, not only is he an inspirational cook, the most popular man in Islington, and married to the perfect ‘Jules’, he gets behind his drum kit, for an impromptu jam session with Josh, Matt, and Steevo. Just one bullet God, go on, just one…….
Davina McCall
My own inability to be able to understand anything financial – I don’t know why, but I just can’t comprehend anything to do with money/finances/business etc. Miss Marple and myself like to cosy up and watch ‘Dragon’s Den’ but no matter how many times I have it drummed into me, I still don’t know what "turnover" means. Really, no idea at all. Frightening.
Nettles – No not Bergerac, although ‘Midsommer murders’ is annoying, no the other sort. What was the good Lord thinking of when he invented nettles? Since having Ronnie and Reggie, I have spent countless enjoyable hours roaming and romping through the woods, only to have the whole experience tainted, by inadvertently brushing passed a nettle. Yes brushing past, not falling into, or stumbling upon, just going near them seems to be enough for me to be attacked. I swear they go for me, lash out. To me nettles are the chavs of the botanical world. Irritants, and ultimately bloody pointless.
The contestants on ‘Deal or no deal’ – This is a big one for me. It’s probably totally irrational, but I hate ’em, the whole damn lot of them! Where do they find these bastards? Look you twats, the whole thing is completely random, purely down to chance and luck. This doesn’t stop you though does it, oh no, using ‘systems’ and birthdays. Having a "good feeling" about this box or that box.
What’s even worse than all this "Positive energy" and "Good vibes" bollocks, is their general behavior. ……. FUCKING SIT DOWN!....... For God’s sake stop bloody pacing about. They drive me mad. High fiving everyone when they get a good box, clutching Polaroid’s of their grandchildren, and bursting into tears. Jumping up and down, whooping and hollering.
You don’t get contestants on ‘University challenge’ wandering about do you? No, that’s because Jeremy Paxman has got them on a tight leash. He knows how to command a quiz. He quite frankly won’t stand for any whooping, and certainly wouldn’t put up with a holler. Noel on the other hand has let them get away with murder. No wonder the whole process takes forty-five minutes with all this roaming around, In all honesty, it could all quite easily be done and dusted in ten.
Why do they insist on running over to the box opener, and hugging and kissing them? They have only opened a bloody box. They have no control over what the result is going to be. Then we get the most irritating line in the whole show.
"Thank you Mr. Banker, it’s a very good offer, but no deal" Then the whole studio erupts in to applause, with yet more whooping and hollering. People punching the air, and bearing their teeth. From the carry on you would think that they had just witnessed Nelson Mandela defying apartheid, or a Chinese student facing down a tank in Tiananmen Square. Anyway, it’s not a good offer, you have still got the top three of the ‘Power five’ left, and the mean bastard has only offered you six and a half grand. If I had got the top three left, I would want at least one hundred grand, a night with his wife, and permission to punch Noel right in the gob.
That’s it, Deal or no deal has sent me over the edge. I will have to leave it there for now, but don’t think this is it, you haven’t got off that lightly…….Asta la vista baby.
Or random irritations to you and me. Look, before either of my readers emails, texts, phones or calls round to tell me that the above is not the technically correct translation, i googled it ok. That was the best it came up with.
Random Irritations
(You realise this could go on forever don’t you)
Oh well, take a deep breath, tighten your safety harnesses’ and splice the main brace…….we have lift off.
Davina McCall – Absolutely no explanation needed
Big Brother - See above
Our Tupperware box cupboard – Yes, I have a deep seated hatred for the ‘cupboard form hell’ as I have named it. Even if the diligent Miss Marple has neatly stacked all the bottoms, and all the lids, I am still crushed by an avalanche of plastic every time I open the bloody thing.
Pointless barking – Ronnie and Reggie obviously bark when someone comes to the house, they see this as their job, and I fully support them in this work related exercise. What I can’t abide however, is woofing for no apparent reason.
This almost without fail always occurs just as I am raising a cup of tea to my lips. They wait for the optimum moment, and WOOF. This results in me jumping and twitching like Jack Douglas from the ‘Carry on’ films, smacking myself in the teeth with the cup, and spending the afternoon in casualty with third degree burns. Then they have the audacity to look at me with that . . . . . . . "What?" look on their face.
Unwanted ‘me time’ apparitions – If one is having a little ‘me time’, why at just the wrong moment, do people I don’t want in my head, suddenly appear there? Old Jim next door, a dead grandparent, Hugh Edwards!. . . . . . . Davina McCall. Sigh.
Davina McCall
The failure of scientists to invent the personal jet pack – When I was a small boy (Miss Marple would say that I still am!) Raymond Baxter on ‘Tomorrows World’ promised me, that by the year 2000, we would all be going to work using jet packs. WHY HASN’T THIS HAPPENED? I’ll tell you why, because instead of using their time and funding to invent brilliant things like jet packs, scientists waste it working out that people don’t like Mondays, or that burnt toast gives you cancer. Come on, pull your fingers out!
Having one ear lower than the other – This wouldn’t normally be a huge problem, but I wear glasses. So when I am trying to appear immensely sophisticated, the glasses slewed across my face, at what appears to me to be a forty-five degree angle, just make me look village idiotish.
Always being in someone’s way at social functions – It’s incredible, but wherever I stand at any social gathering, I seem to be in the way. If I’m in a pub, even if I am standing in a corner, somebody will want to get past. For experimental purposes, whilst I was at a wedding once, I took my pint, and went and stood in the field next door. Low and behold, within five minutes, I was hearing the words "excuse me," followed by tutting!
Being invisible at social functions – Why do I seem to be wearing some sort of cloaking device, when standing at a bar? I don’t understand it. I am fourteen and a half stone, not overly short, and I have one ear lower than the other, I’m not that easily miss able! But no, stand at a bar, and I become as "HELLO I’M HERE EVEYBODY" as an F117 stealth fighter.
Social functions
Jamie bloody Oliver – Ooooh can I punch him, can I? I don’t know, he just irritates me. His bloody Sainsbury’s adverts, him banging on and on about bloody school dinners. Shut up Jamie, leave people alone. I salute those mothers that were sticking burgers through the bars of the school playground. Not because I think child obesity is a good thing, but just because it was a two fingers to you Oliver.
Even back in the old days he was fucking annoying. ‘The naked chef’. There he was, a middle class boy pretending to be all ‘street’ and cockney. "smashing, there you go darlin’, pucker" and all that crap. Cooking in his trendy apartment, in his trendy kitchen.
Then all his trendy mates come round. Samantha, Josh, ‘Steevo’, Matt or whatever they are called. Then we have to watch them all tucking in, and saluting the great Oliver, while ‘Top Loader’ plays in the background……."We get it on most every night……." AAAARGGHHHHHH shut up! And then to top it all, not only is he an inspirational cook, the most popular man in Islington, and married to the perfect ‘Jules’, he gets behind his drum kit, for an impromptu jam session with Josh, Matt, and Steevo. Just one bullet God, go on, just one…….
Davina McCall
My own inability to be able to understand anything financial – I don’t know why, but I just can’t comprehend anything to do with money/finances/business etc. Miss Marple and myself like to cosy up and watch ‘Dragon’s Den’ but no matter how many times I have it drummed into me, I still don’t know what "turnover" means. Really, no idea at all. Frightening.
Nettles – No not Bergerac, although ‘Midsommer murders’ is annoying, no the other sort. What was the good Lord thinking of when he invented nettles? Since having Ronnie and Reggie, I have spent countless enjoyable hours roaming and romping through the woods, only to have the whole experience tainted, by inadvertently brushing passed a nettle. Yes brushing past, not falling into, or stumbling upon, just going near them seems to be enough for me to be attacked. I swear they go for me, lash out. To me nettles are the chavs of the botanical world. Irritants, and ultimately bloody pointless.
The contestants on ‘Deal or no deal’ – This is a big one for me. It’s probably totally irrational, but I hate ’em, the whole damn lot of them! Where do they find these bastards? Look you twats, the whole thing is completely random, purely down to chance and luck. This doesn’t stop you though does it, oh no, using ‘systems’ and birthdays. Having a "good feeling" about this box or that box.
What’s even worse than all this "Positive energy" and "Good vibes" bollocks, is their general behavior. ……. FUCKING SIT DOWN!....... For God’s sake stop bloody pacing about. They drive me mad. High fiving everyone when they get a good box, clutching Polaroid’s of their grandchildren, and bursting into tears. Jumping up and down, whooping and hollering.
You don’t get contestants on ‘University challenge’ wandering about do you? No, that’s because Jeremy Paxman has got them on a tight leash. He knows how to command a quiz. He quite frankly won’t stand for any whooping, and certainly wouldn’t put up with a holler. Noel on the other hand has let them get away with murder. No wonder the whole process takes forty-five minutes with all this roaming around, In all honesty, it could all quite easily be done and dusted in ten.
Why do they insist on running over to the box opener, and hugging and kissing them? They have only opened a bloody box. They have no control over what the result is going to be. Then we get the most irritating line in the whole show.
"Thank you Mr. Banker, it’s a very good offer, but no deal" Then the whole studio erupts in to applause, with yet more whooping and hollering. People punching the air, and bearing their teeth. From the carry on you would think that they had just witnessed Nelson Mandela defying apartheid, or a Chinese student facing down a tank in Tiananmen Square. Anyway, it’s not a good offer, you have still got the top three of the ‘Power five’ left, and the mean bastard has only offered you six and a half grand. If I had got the top three left, I would want at least one hundred grand, a night with his wife, and permission to punch Noel right in the gob.
That’s it, Deal or no deal has sent me over the edge. I will have to leave it there for now, but don’t think this is it, you haven’t got off that lightly…….Asta la vista baby.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
The Devil wears Wranglers.......
What is it with this human obsession with clothing? Why is what we are wearing so important? I raise these questions because of an incident at my place of work the other day. Now, I am not an expert on the law, far from it, but I am guessing that mentioning someone’s name, or indeed a corporation’s name in the same sentence as “bunch of fucking wankers”, could possibly be litigious! Not that I care overly, but I suppose it would be better not to have my denim clad arse hauled before the courts! Anyway, I don’t know why I am concerning myself with being sued, nobody reads this. Even Miss Marple can find something that really needs doing, when I proudly announce another publication!
So what was this earth shattering event that has caused me to vent my spleen? We have been told from upon high at my place of work, that the wearing of jeans is now FORBIDDEN. . . . . . . . “Why do you get so hot under the collar about such things Andy?” I can already hear normal people saying. “Why are you undoubtedly raising your blood pressure, and bringing about your early and untimely death, through stressing over such trivia?”.......IT’S THE BLOODY PRINCIPAL - THAT’S WHY!!!.......
As always with me, it’s not the trouble or inconvenience etc etc that things may cause me, that winds me up, it is the moronic, short sighted, narrow minded thinking behind this stuff that gets so far up my arse that I can taste it! Who was it way back in the depths of history, that decided that the wearing of jeans is as close to being the Devil’s lackey as can possibly be?
I am guessing the reasons behind this declaration, is ‘the customers’. They want to present a certain image to the customers, that says professional, efficient, and other such corporate crap. I genuinely believe that the customers where I am unfortunate enough to work, couldn’t care less if I was wearing a fucking tutu, as long as they get what they want. The cretins that come up with this sort of “No jeans” crap, are the same sort of wishy washy tossers, that get all sweaty and sanctimonious about “ba ba BLACK sheep” and whatnot. Just as my customers don’t give a shit about what I am wearing, the local Muslim and black community are in no way offended by “ba ba black sheep”. But still these people take it upon themselves to “Protect” people from stuff, that they don’t need protecting from. Patronising bastards.
Apart from stuff like this being a load of unnecessary nonsense, what difference does it make what someone wears? I couldn’t give a monkey’s arse what the woman behind the hotel reception desk has got on. I would rather be greeted with efficiency, courtesy and a smile, than a crisp blouse, name badge and plastic sincerity. Yes it’s all style over content.
I can already hear some people saying “Andy, you have let your temper run away with you. You have let your frustration cloud your judgment. Sometimes we need people to be wearing a uniform, so that we know who is who, and what is what. When we go in to our local branch of comet, we want to be able to differentiate between the staff and customers.” Trust me, you will know which ones are the staff, they will be the bastards that jump on your back as soon as you take your first step through the door. You will spend the rest of your time in their shop, virtually giving Darren a bloody piggy back! I am going to get a restraining order next time I go in there.
Surely history must have taught us that uniforms generally equal bad things. Roman Centurions stomping across Europe, The Nazi’s Blitzkreig. . . ing the same path, yet we still have the utmost respect for anyone wearing a uniform. Smart, yes you have got to be smart to do certain jobs haven’t you. WHY?.......I personally would love to see a judge sitting up there wearing Ray Bands, and a Hawaiian shirt. Who wouldn’t rather see traffic wardens wearing Speedo’s, flip flops, and a straw boater? Would take some of the pomposity away from them wouldn’t it.
That’s the trouble you see, uniforms give people an over inflated opinion of themselves. Power dressing and all that. If Adolf Hitler hadn’t worn his crisp uniform, and highly polished boots, he probably would have been a lot more chilled out. When I am Prime Minister, I am going to ban ties. Really, what is the bloody point. A more useless garment there can never have been. People realize this, and to try and inject some humour into tie wearing, they buy one’s covered in The Tazmanian Devil, or Homor Simpson. Trust me, you are not being humerous, you are being a tit.
It is ludicrous beyond words to think that because someone is smartly dressed, they must be an upstanding citizen. The Kray twins, George Bush, all ardent suit wearers…….I rest my case. I may have mentioned in previous blogs, that I spent many years playing in bands. In all those years I only witnessed one fight. Where was that? At a biker’s do, with some of the ‘scruffiest’ scariest looking people you have ever seen in your life, At festivals where people were wearing jeans, shorts, t-shirts, and other such scruffy attire? No, it was at a fucking wine bar, full of people wearing suits.
I think Ben Elton summed it up totally twenty or more years ago, when he was talking about night club dress codes. (Ironically he was always wearing suits, but we will brush over that!) You know how you have to be lined up outside, and “inspected” by the bouncers. Well, the bouncer is walking along the line, casting his authoritative eye over the potential clubbers…….
“Hello Himmler, nice shiny boots, very smart you‘re in. Stalin, look at those creases, pin sharp, go on, in you go. Saddam, very nice uniform, in you go. ……. fuck off Jesus, no sandals!” That say’s it all, so I will leave it there.
So what was this earth shattering event that has caused me to vent my spleen? We have been told from upon high at my place of work, that the wearing of jeans is now FORBIDDEN. . . . . . . . “Why do you get so hot under the collar about such things Andy?” I can already hear normal people saying. “Why are you undoubtedly raising your blood pressure, and bringing about your early and untimely death, through stressing over such trivia?”.......IT’S THE BLOODY PRINCIPAL - THAT’S WHY!!!.......
As always with me, it’s not the trouble or inconvenience etc etc that things may cause me, that winds me up, it is the moronic, short sighted, narrow minded thinking behind this stuff that gets so far up my arse that I can taste it! Who was it way back in the depths of history, that decided that the wearing of jeans is as close to being the Devil’s lackey as can possibly be?
I am guessing the reasons behind this declaration, is ‘the customers’. They want to present a certain image to the customers, that says professional, efficient, and other such corporate crap. I genuinely believe that the customers where I am unfortunate enough to work, couldn’t care less if I was wearing a fucking tutu, as long as they get what they want. The cretins that come up with this sort of “No jeans” crap, are the same sort of wishy washy tossers, that get all sweaty and sanctimonious about “ba ba BLACK sheep” and whatnot. Just as my customers don’t give a shit about what I am wearing, the local Muslim and black community are in no way offended by “ba ba black sheep”. But still these people take it upon themselves to “Protect” people from stuff, that they don’t need protecting from. Patronising bastards.
Apart from stuff like this being a load of unnecessary nonsense, what difference does it make what someone wears? I couldn’t give a monkey’s arse what the woman behind the hotel reception desk has got on. I would rather be greeted with efficiency, courtesy and a smile, than a crisp blouse, name badge and plastic sincerity. Yes it’s all style over content.
I can already hear some people saying “Andy, you have let your temper run away with you. You have let your frustration cloud your judgment. Sometimes we need people to be wearing a uniform, so that we know who is who, and what is what. When we go in to our local branch of comet, we want to be able to differentiate between the staff and customers.” Trust me, you will know which ones are the staff, they will be the bastards that jump on your back as soon as you take your first step through the door. You will spend the rest of your time in their shop, virtually giving Darren a bloody piggy back! I am going to get a restraining order next time I go in there.
Surely history must have taught us that uniforms generally equal bad things. Roman Centurions stomping across Europe, The Nazi’s Blitzkreig. . . ing the same path, yet we still have the utmost respect for anyone wearing a uniform. Smart, yes you have got to be smart to do certain jobs haven’t you. WHY?.......I personally would love to see a judge sitting up there wearing Ray Bands, and a Hawaiian shirt. Who wouldn’t rather see traffic wardens wearing Speedo’s, flip flops, and a straw boater? Would take some of the pomposity away from them wouldn’t it.
That’s the trouble you see, uniforms give people an over inflated opinion of themselves. Power dressing and all that. If Adolf Hitler hadn’t worn his crisp uniform, and highly polished boots, he probably would have been a lot more chilled out. When I am Prime Minister, I am going to ban ties. Really, what is the bloody point. A more useless garment there can never have been. People realize this, and to try and inject some humour into tie wearing, they buy one’s covered in The Tazmanian Devil, or Homor Simpson. Trust me, you are not being humerous, you are being a tit.
It is ludicrous beyond words to think that because someone is smartly dressed, they must be an upstanding citizen. The Kray twins, George Bush, all ardent suit wearers…….I rest my case. I may have mentioned in previous blogs, that I spent many years playing in bands. In all those years I only witnessed one fight. Where was that? At a biker’s do, with some of the ‘scruffiest’ scariest looking people you have ever seen in your life, At festivals where people were wearing jeans, shorts, t-shirts, and other such scruffy attire? No, it was at a fucking wine bar, full of people wearing suits.
I think Ben Elton summed it up totally twenty or more years ago, when he was talking about night club dress codes. (Ironically he was always wearing suits, but we will brush over that!) You know how you have to be lined up outside, and “inspected” by the bouncers. Well, the bouncer is walking along the line, casting his authoritative eye over the potential clubbers…….
“Hello Himmler, nice shiny boots, very smart you‘re in. Stalin, look at those creases, pin sharp, go on, in you go. Saddam, very nice uniform, in you go. ……. fuck off Jesus, no sandals!” That say’s it all, so I will leave it there.
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Would you Adam and Eve it. . . . . . .
On the whole, Miss Marple and myself get on spiffingly. Surprising really, seeing as we have been cohabiting for approximately twelve centuries……..er sorry, years now. There are times however, when we do seem to be speaking in completely different tongues. This brings me neatly onto the theme of today’s lecture.
Men and women, the same but different…….
Yes, men and women, the same but different. A truer phrase could not be uttered. They both have legs, arms, noses, ears etc etc etc, but it seems to be the brain department where the problems start to occur. Women seem to have a huge chip on their shoulder about having smaller brains!.......WAIT WAIT, NO SORRY, THAT WAS A CHEAP SHOT, AND A COMPLETE FALICY. I just couldn’t resist it. No to be serious, men and women’s brains obviously work in exactly the same fashion as far as biology and chemistry and all that goes, but there is something very different about the thoughts that run through them.
To be laughably simplistic, men seem to be much simpler creatures on the whole, more easily satisfied, and less complicated. Women on the other hand, probably due to the fact that by their very nature have more to cope with, seem to over complicate things sometimes. For example…
Man Says – “Are we definitely going to your Mothers for lunch on Sunday?”
Woman thinks – What is he asking that for? I told him we were definitely going. Oh I see, he doesn’t really want to go. He has never liked my Mother, Perhaps he doesn’t like his own mother, perhaps he hates all women. He has probably become a woman hating serial killer. He has been going out a lot these past few evenings. . . . . . .Affair, yes that’s it, he is having an affair…….with my mother. The bastard…….etc etc etc
On the subject of woman hating, I have often wondered if I am a misogynist. If the truth be known, I think most men will go through a period of misogyny from time to time, lets face it, it’s hard not to! I also think that men would actually prefer it, if women were actually men, but with front bottoms! In the interests of balance and fairness, here is an example of a mans simple approach, in direct conflict with a womens complicated approach.
Woman says – “You never listen to a word I say do you? No, it’s just me me me me me. I have to do everything around here, while you just swan around down the pub with your mates, and park your arse in front of that stupidly large TV, and watch fucking Stargate. Well I have just about had enough, things are going to have to change around here. Maybe I will find somebody that does appreciate me, someone who will treat me like a woman, and not just a sexual plaything, someone who will take me out, hold a door open for me, pull my chair out. . . . . . .
Man thinks – I supposse the leg over has bitten the dust tonight, and it looks like i'll be off to the chip shop!
I don’t think the blame can be put squarely at either side’s door. No, I think it was a conspiracy. Way back in the mists of time at the creation of the universe, Old God and Mother Nature were at work one day, and something like this happened…….
(Cue wobbly picture)
The dawn of creation, day 7…….
GOD “Morning”
MN “Oh yeah, morning”
GOD “Oh dear, do I detect an air of dispondency. Has someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning?”
MN “Christ…….”
GOD “Not yet” – laughs.
MN Raises eyebrows, “…….Is it that obvious? Anyway you should know, you're all seeing and all knowing."
GOD “Oooh, clever clogs. Lets just say you do seem a little pre occupied this morning”
MN “Sorry, I think the pressure of work is getting to me. I would go and see the occupational therapist…….if there was such a thing.”
GOD “Don’t worry, that’s next on the list, and yes I know this creation thing is a bind, but we are nearly done now. Now, where were we? Oh yes, mankind.”
MN “Er, mankind, just remind me again”
GOD “You know, those bipeds, we made them quite intelligent, but gave them no morals.”
MN Laughs, “Oh yes I remember, I am feeling a little better already. Now where did we plonk them?”
GOD “Earth”
MN “Earth, just remind me again.”
GOD “You know the one, little green and blue one, on the outskirts.”
MN “Oh yes, pretty little thing, they’re gonna fuck that right up aren’t they?”
GOD “Of course. Anyway, how are we getting on with them? Done all the limbs and that?”
MN “Yes yes.”
GOD “Vital organs, brain and what not?”
MN “Done it.”
GOD “Dangerously inquisitive nature?”
MN Laughs “Oh yes!"
GOD “Interlocking genitalia, sexual attraction, libido etc etc?”
MN “Sorted.”
GOD “You don’t think you have over done the libido thing on the male side then?.......you know, just a tad.”
MN “No, they’ll handle it.”
Both break out in fits of laughter…….
GOD “Oh dear, almost makes coming to work worth while doesn’t it?. Anyway joking aside, that seems to be it then.”
MN “Yes, I suppose so, although, there is something else we could do.”
GOD “Really, what’s that?”
MN “Well, you know how we made them attracted to each other, and gave them interlocking genitalia and all that?”
GOD “Yes, that was quite brilliant of us wasn’t it?”
MN “Brilliant yes, but also a bit boring. Why don’t we make it so that they don’t really get on that well?”
GOD “WHAT!…….we can’t do that can we?...surely…”
MN “Why not, why shouldn’t we have a little fun from time to time?”
GOD “Oh alright then. Hey, why stop there? Lets make it so that some of them fancy the wrong ones?”
MN “Hang on, you’ve lost me”
GOD “Well, let’s make it so that some males fancy other males, and some females fancy other females.”
MN “Whoa…….You’re coming from left field now Godo me old mate.”
They high five
GOD “And what’s more, because men understand men, and women understand women, they are going to get on soooooo much better than the normal ones. That will really piss ‘em off!”
…….and this is how I believe the communication problems between the sexes arose.
Also, have you noticed how a relationship changes as the year’s role by? At the start of it, there is virtually nothing you wouldn’t do to enhance the well being of your new love. Lets pick a scenario at random. . . . . . . a night out at the cinema.
Yes, way back at the dawn of your new found relationship, You would go and see absolutely any film that she wanted to see, just because it meant being with her. Yes the latest God awful sloppy chick flick, or God forbid ‘romantic comedy’ held no repulsion for you, just as long as you were together, holding hands in the dark, thanking God you were no longer single. Now, ten years later, if you were asked if you wanted to go and see ‘Mama Mia’ You would choke on your Carlsberg, and look at her as if she had just asked you to shag a donkey! It is also quite amusing (read sad), how the sharing thing dwindles the further down the relationship road you go. In the first few weeks of your new relationship, there is nothing you wouldn’t share with her.
You would be strolling down the road, each with a bag of chips, and she would stumble slightly, and spill her chips all over the pavement. You would rush to assist her, repeatedly asking after her well being, and offering her Your bag of chips. Fast forward a year or two, and you would be berating her with phrases like “Oh you clumsy cow” and telling her “sod off, you should pick your feet up,” when she enquired about the possibility of you sharing your chips with her!
Anyway, I have taken up far too much of your time as it is, I am sure you have got much more important things to be doing. I’m off to ask Miss Marple something in ancient Latin, and I very much look forward to her reply in Esperanto!
Adios Amigos.
Men and women, the same but different…….
Yes, men and women, the same but different. A truer phrase could not be uttered. They both have legs, arms, noses, ears etc etc etc, but it seems to be the brain department where the problems start to occur. Women seem to have a huge chip on their shoulder about having smaller brains!.......WAIT WAIT, NO SORRY, THAT WAS A CHEAP SHOT, AND A COMPLETE FALICY. I just couldn’t resist it. No to be serious, men and women’s brains obviously work in exactly the same fashion as far as biology and chemistry and all that goes, but there is something very different about the thoughts that run through them.
To be laughably simplistic, men seem to be much simpler creatures on the whole, more easily satisfied, and less complicated. Women on the other hand, probably due to the fact that by their very nature have more to cope with, seem to over complicate things sometimes. For example…
Man Says – “Are we definitely going to your Mothers for lunch on Sunday?”
Woman thinks – What is he asking that for? I told him we were definitely going. Oh I see, he doesn’t really want to go. He has never liked my Mother, Perhaps he doesn’t like his own mother, perhaps he hates all women. He has probably become a woman hating serial killer. He has been going out a lot these past few evenings. . . . . . .Affair, yes that’s it, he is having an affair…….with my mother. The bastard…….etc etc etc
On the subject of woman hating, I have often wondered if I am a misogynist. If the truth be known, I think most men will go through a period of misogyny from time to time, lets face it, it’s hard not to! I also think that men would actually prefer it, if women were actually men, but with front bottoms! In the interests of balance and fairness, here is an example of a mans simple approach, in direct conflict with a womens complicated approach.
Woman says – “You never listen to a word I say do you? No, it’s just me me me me me. I have to do everything around here, while you just swan around down the pub with your mates, and park your arse in front of that stupidly large TV, and watch fucking Stargate. Well I have just about had enough, things are going to have to change around here. Maybe I will find somebody that does appreciate me, someone who will treat me like a woman, and not just a sexual plaything, someone who will take me out, hold a door open for me, pull my chair out. . . . . . .
Man thinks – I supposse the leg over has bitten the dust tonight, and it looks like i'll be off to the chip shop!
I don’t think the blame can be put squarely at either side’s door. No, I think it was a conspiracy. Way back in the mists of time at the creation of the universe, Old God and Mother Nature were at work one day, and something like this happened…….
(Cue wobbly picture)
The dawn of creation, day 7…….
GOD “Morning”
MN “Oh yeah, morning”
GOD “Oh dear, do I detect an air of dispondency. Has someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning?”
MN “Christ…….”
GOD “Not yet” – laughs.
MN Raises eyebrows, “…….Is it that obvious? Anyway you should know, you're all seeing and all knowing."
GOD “Oooh, clever clogs. Lets just say you do seem a little pre occupied this morning”
MN “Sorry, I think the pressure of work is getting to me. I would go and see the occupational therapist…….if there was such a thing.”
GOD “Don’t worry, that’s next on the list, and yes I know this creation thing is a bind, but we are nearly done now. Now, where were we? Oh yes, mankind.”
MN “Er, mankind, just remind me again”
GOD “You know, those bipeds, we made them quite intelligent, but gave them no morals.”
MN Laughs, “Oh yes I remember, I am feeling a little better already. Now where did we plonk them?”
GOD “Earth”
MN “Earth, just remind me again.”
GOD “You know the one, little green and blue one, on the outskirts.”
MN “Oh yes, pretty little thing, they’re gonna fuck that right up aren’t they?”
GOD “Of course. Anyway, how are we getting on with them? Done all the limbs and that?”
MN “Yes yes.”
GOD “Vital organs, brain and what not?”
MN “Done it.”
GOD “Dangerously inquisitive nature?”
MN Laughs “Oh yes!"
GOD “Interlocking genitalia, sexual attraction, libido etc etc?”
MN “Sorted.”
GOD “You don’t think you have over done the libido thing on the male side then?.......you know, just a tad.”
MN “No, they’ll handle it.”
Both break out in fits of laughter…….
GOD “Oh dear, almost makes coming to work worth while doesn’t it?. Anyway joking aside, that seems to be it then.”
MN “Yes, I suppose so, although, there is something else we could do.”
GOD “Really, what’s that?”
MN “Well, you know how we made them attracted to each other, and gave them interlocking genitalia and all that?”
GOD “Yes, that was quite brilliant of us wasn’t it?”
MN “Brilliant yes, but also a bit boring. Why don’t we make it so that they don’t really get on that well?”
GOD “WHAT!…….we can’t do that can we?...surely…”
MN “Why not, why shouldn’t we have a little fun from time to time?”
GOD “Oh alright then. Hey, why stop there? Lets make it so that some of them fancy the wrong ones?”
MN “Hang on, you’ve lost me”
GOD “Well, let’s make it so that some males fancy other males, and some females fancy other females.”
MN “Whoa…….You’re coming from left field now Godo me old mate.”
They high five
GOD “And what’s more, because men understand men, and women understand women, they are going to get on soooooo much better than the normal ones. That will really piss ‘em off!”
…….and this is how I believe the communication problems between the sexes arose.
Also, have you noticed how a relationship changes as the year’s role by? At the start of it, there is virtually nothing you wouldn’t do to enhance the well being of your new love. Lets pick a scenario at random. . . . . . . a night out at the cinema.
Yes, way back at the dawn of your new found relationship, You would go and see absolutely any film that she wanted to see, just because it meant being with her. Yes the latest God awful sloppy chick flick, or God forbid ‘romantic comedy’ held no repulsion for you, just as long as you were together, holding hands in the dark, thanking God you were no longer single. Now, ten years later, if you were asked if you wanted to go and see ‘Mama Mia’ You would choke on your Carlsberg, and look at her as if she had just asked you to shag a donkey! It is also quite amusing (read sad), how the sharing thing dwindles the further down the relationship road you go. In the first few weeks of your new relationship, there is nothing you wouldn’t share with her.
You would be strolling down the road, each with a bag of chips, and she would stumble slightly, and spill her chips all over the pavement. You would rush to assist her, repeatedly asking after her well being, and offering her Your bag of chips. Fast forward a year or two, and you would be berating her with phrases like “Oh you clumsy cow” and telling her “sod off, you should pick your feet up,” when she enquired about the possibility of you sharing your chips with her!
Anyway, I have taken up far too much of your time as it is, I am sure you have got much more important things to be doing. I’m off to ask Miss Marple something in ancient Latin, and I very much look forward to her reply in Esperanto!
Adios Amigos.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Just another day in paradise.......
My ‘lectures’ normally revolve around one topic, but today I thought we would just have a quick catch up. What’s been happening in the world and so on, and you never know, there may be the odd moan. So here we are.
It’s Thursday the 14th August 2008. . . . . . . ooh I felt a bit like Capt. Kirk then . . . . . . . So, the Olympics are here. Whoopee quite frankly (Oh dear, the moaning has started earlier than I thought) I’m sorry, but I just can’t get enthusiastic about the games what so ever. I’m not particularly sporty, so I suppose that doesn’t entice me to watch any of it. Apparently the Olympics are supposed to represent sort of peace, harmony, sportsmanship, fair play, accord and all that kind of stuff. So I did find it highly amusing seeing the torch bearers surrounded by burly minders, sheepishly jogging along with a fixed smile on their face, as people hurled themselves at them from all directions! Having the symbol of peace and harmony surrounded by huge men in sun glasses carrying M16’s was just priceless. Also all of this “peace and love” was evident when the Chinese authorities demolished loads of peoples homes to make way for stadiums etc etc. What “peace and love” did these poor people get in the way of compensation, or re-housing…….a big fat “piss off”. Splendid. They couldn’t really have picked a worse country to host the Olympics could they, oh yes they could, we have got them next time!
Most of it is just plain boring to watch isn’t it? Yes yes they are all supreme athletes, and yes yes it is all very skillful, and yes yes I admire their dedication, but nobody will ever convince me, that watching the 10,000 meters is ever going to be exciting. Round and round…….zzzzzzz. That weird cycle one, where they follow each other round. . . . .what? Rowing! Oh God rowing, the absolute worst. What oh what oh what is the bloody point in that? Rowing is a good thing, if you are one side of a lake, and you want to get to the other. That’s it, honestly, leave it there. No, we can’t can we. What do we do, we turn it into a race. There are some pointless activities that human beings have come up with, but racing rowing boats is right up there with the worst. Slow, boring, painful, and you can’t see where you are going…….brilliant. I also loved the thing I heard on the news about our hopes for medal success. I heard a bloke saying he was hoping we would come eighth over all. How very British,” No, we don’t want to win it, we will be more than happy with eighth thank you!” I have spent far too long on the Olympics already, but just one last thing. We had all the Dwayne Chambers fiasco. Should he be allowed to go or shouldn’t he. Well, as Frankie Boyle said on ‘Mock the week’ The other day, lets have the drug free Olympics for all the goody two shoes lot, then have the ‘smacked off your tits’ Olympics. Because if there is a man that can run the one hundred meters in two and a half seconds, we want to see it!
Moving on, the new series of ‘The X Factor’ starts this Saturday, Hoorah! No I am not being sarcastic, I love it. Yes I know it is all contrived, manipulated and so on. Yes I know the producers drum into people they must keep using the phrases “110%” …”This means everything to me” … “It’s been a hell of a journey” so on and so on, but I am more than happy to put up with all that crap, and all the tears, and stories of deprivation, abuse, bullying, people in slow motion phoning their mums, telling them “I am through to boot camp” while “wind beneath my wings” plays in the background, if it means I get to see a disgruntled cross eyed, buck toothed mother of questionable descent batter Simon Cowell over the head with her walking stick, because he “disrespected” her eighteen stone “songbird” of a daughter. I love the way it seems that there are people on this planet, who seem to have completely different hearing apparatus than everyone else. We hear scratchy whining noises, they hear Whitney Houston. Give me more staged squabbling between the judges. Please let louise Walsh stomp off again because “Simon is a big nasty wasty man.” Oh how I want to hear internationally renowned ‘singer’ Danni Minogue criticize people for being off key. Bring on the retards! Let ‘em loose on telly. Exploitation?.......probably! You can ridicule me if you like, that would be fair enough, but I know where I am going to be on Saturday night. Sitting in front of the telly, large kebab, can of beer, and my tongue planted firmly in my cheek. One last thing on ‘The X factor’ I thought it was the best thing in the world, that last years winner, Leon something or other, was the absolute epitome of what the “X Factor” isn’t – Forgettable, uncharismatic, and above all…….average! Lol.
In other news…….I dipped my toe into the pool that is ‘Facebook’ for a few days. This all started because I had an email from my sixty-three year old Father, inviting me to be his friend on ‘Facebook’. Well, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. So I signed up, and bizarrely found that I already had a profile on ‘Facebook’! I have no recollection of doing this at all; perhaps I am a sleep surfer! Anyway, my stay in ‘Facebook’ land didn’t last long. I quickly realized that I am just as unpopular in a virtual world, as I am in the real one! So I made my excuses and left.
There is some kind of war going on down Russia way, because somebody spilt somebody else’s pint in the Balkans. UFO sightings are becoming more prevalent. God I want to see a UFO. I think I might start wandering around outside late at night, that must increase my chances of seeing one.
It’s that time of year again when we have to endure news reports that basically involve teenagers opening envelopes and screaming. Yes folks, it’s exam results time again. Oh goody. Why do news broadcasters presume that we all want to see this? It’s the same every year. I don’t know if it’s true, but apparently it’s virtually impossible to fail, so watching people pass isn’t really news is it? I know it must be almost impossible to find one that has failed, but they never show them do they? There is never one that excitedly opens the envelope, hands all sweaty and shaky, whose eyes then fill with tears, as they realize they have failed an unfailable exam! You never get the camera crew following them to the train station, and capture them buying a one way ticket to Bridge end do you? No, it’s always Joshua, Tom or fucking Emily, who inform us that they have got thirty-seven straight A’s, and will be taking a gap year in the Far East, before taking up their place at Cambridge to study law. Oh yes, and mummy has bought me a brand new Ford Fiesta sport, for being so brilliant…..Haw haw, ya and rarly cool. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aaaaarghhhh!
I’m off to OD on blood pressure tablets, and do a spot of pilates. So it’s goodnight from me, and it’s goodnight from……….Oh, I’m on my own!
It’s Thursday the 14th August 2008. . . . . . . ooh I felt a bit like Capt. Kirk then . . . . . . . So, the Olympics are here. Whoopee quite frankly (Oh dear, the moaning has started earlier than I thought) I’m sorry, but I just can’t get enthusiastic about the games what so ever. I’m not particularly sporty, so I suppose that doesn’t entice me to watch any of it. Apparently the Olympics are supposed to represent sort of peace, harmony, sportsmanship, fair play, accord and all that kind of stuff. So I did find it highly amusing seeing the torch bearers surrounded by burly minders, sheepishly jogging along with a fixed smile on their face, as people hurled themselves at them from all directions! Having the symbol of peace and harmony surrounded by huge men in sun glasses carrying M16’s was just priceless. Also all of this “peace and love” was evident when the Chinese authorities demolished loads of peoples homes to make way for stadiums etc etc. What “peace and love” did these poor people get in the way of compensation, or re-housing…….a big fat “piss off”. Splendid. They couldn’t really have picked a worse country to host the Olympics could they, oh yes they could, we have got them next time!
Most of it is just plain boring to watch isn’t it? Yes yes they are all supreme athletes, and yes yes it is all very skillful, and yes yes I admire their dedication, but nobody will ever convince me, that watching the 10,000 meters is ever going to be exciting. Round and round…….zzzzzzz. That weird cycle one, where they follow each other round. . . . .what? Rowing! Oh God rowing, the absolute worst. What oh what oh what is the bloody point in that? Rowing is a good thing, if you are one side of a lake, and you want to get to the other. That’s it, honestly, leave it there. No, we can’t can we. What do we do, we turn it into a race. There are some pointless activities that human beings have come up with, but racing rowing boats is right up there with the worst. Slow, boring, painful, and you can’t see where you are going…….brilliant. I also loved the thing I heard on the news about our hopes for medal success. I heard a bloke saying he was hoping we would come eighth over all. How very British,” No, we don’t want to win it, we will be more than happy with eighth thank you!” I have spent far too long on the Olympics already, but just one last thing. We had all the Dwayne Chambers fiasco. Should he be allowed to go or shouldn’t he. Well, as Frankie Boyle said on ‘Mock the week’ The other day, lets have the drug free Olympics for all the goody two shoes lot, then have the ‘smacked off your tits’ Olympics. Because if there is a man that can run the one hundred meters in two and a half seconds, we want to see it!
Moving on, the new series of ‘The X Factor’ starts this Saturday, Hoorah! No I am not being sarcastic, I love it. Yes I know it is all contrived, manipulated and so on. Yes I know the producers drum into people they must keep using the phrases “110%” …”This means everything to me” … “It’s been a hell of a journey” so on and so on, but I am more than happy to put up with all that crap, and all the tears, and stories of deprivation, abuse, bullying, people in slow motion phoning their mums, telling them “I am through to boot camp” while “wind beneath my wings” plays in the background, if it means I get to see a disgruntled cross eyed, buck toothed mother of questionable descent batter Simon Cowell over the head with her walking stick, because he “disrespected” her eighteen stone “songbird” of a daughter. I love the way it seems that there are people on this planet, who seem to have completely different hearing apparatus than everyone else. We hear scratchy whining noises, they hear Whitney Houston. Give me more staged squabbling between the judges. Please let louise Walsh stomp off again because “Simon is a big nasty wasty man.” Oh how I want to hear internationally renowned ‘singer’ Danni Minogue criticize people for being off key. Bring on the retards! Let ‘em loose on telly. Exploitation?.......probably! You can ridicule me if you like, that would be fair enough, but I know where I am going to be on Saturday night. Sitting in front of the telly, large kebab, can of beer, and my tongue planted firmly in my cheek. One last thing on ‘The X factor’ I thought it was the best thing in the world, that last years winner, Leon something or other, was the absolute epitome of what the “X Factor” isn’t – Forgettable, uncharismatic, and above all…….average! Lol.
In other news…….I dipped my toe into the pool that is ‘Facebook’ for a few days. This all started because I had an email from my sixty-three year old Father, inviting me to be his friend on ‘Facebook’. Well, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. So I signed up, and bizarrely found that I already had a profile on ‘Facebook’! I have no recollection of doing this at all; perhaps I am a sleep surfer! Anyway, my stay in ‘Facebook’ land didn’t last long. I quickly realized that I am just as unpopular in a virtual world, as I am in the real one! So I made my excuses and left.
There is some kind of war going on down Russia way, because somebody spilt somebody else’s pint in the Balkans. UFO sightings are becoming more prevalent. God I want to see a UFO. I think I might start wandering around outside late at night, that must increase my chances of seeing one.
It’s that time of year again when we have to endure news reports that basically involve teenagers opening envelopes and screaming. Yes folks, it’s exam results time again. Oh goody. Why do news broadcasters presume that we all want to see this? It’s the same every year. I don’t know if it’s true, but apparently it’s virtually impossible to fail, so watching people pass isn’t really news is it? I know it must be almost impossible to find one that has failed, but they never show them do they? There is never one that excitedly opens the envelope, hands all sweaty and shaky, whose eyes then fill with tears, as they realize they have failed an unfailable exam! You never get the camera crew following them to the train station, and capture them buying a one way ticket to Bridge end do you? No, it’s always Joshua, Tom or fucking Emily, who inform us that they have got thirty-seven straight A’s, and will be taking a gap year in the Far East, before taking up their place at Cambridge to study law. Oh yes, and mummy has bought me a brand new Ford Fiesta sport, for being so brilliant…..Haw haw, ya and rarly cool. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aaaaarghhhh!
I’m off to OD on blood pressure tablets, and do a spot of pilates. So it’s goodnight from me, and it’s goodnight from……….Oh, I’m on my own!
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