31 December 2010

Happy new year

It's quite likely that 2011 will be one of the most miserable in recent memory for us all because of us all being doomed, but let's at least give it a chance.

For now, I personally am just thankful 2010 is over. Many years ago I predicted 2010 would see the end of the world. I fancied the Chinese would have launched their attack by now.

It doesn't look like I was far off, they certainly have the world's financial organisations by los huevos.

I almost persuaded myself to go out tonight and drink away the final hours of such a miserable year, but I chickened out at the last minute. I simply can't tolerate a new year's eve level hang-over anymore. It would undoubtedly land me in the big house for at least a week, so I'm staying in and will tackle my jigsaw instead.

Feliz año nuevo mis amigos

30 December 2010

If no one else is gonna say it then I will

I've just now heard they arrested the landlord of the girl who was murdered recently.

To be fair I thought it was going to be the boyfriend..I mean away in Sheffield...why would anyone go there?

But that was before I got a look at this dude. I don't mean to make light of such an horrific and grisly murder, but when you look at the guy you do have to wonder what the hell was he thinking?

I mean if you're gonna kill someone and it's someone who lives in the flat beneath you, surely..suuuuuurely you'd make some sort of an effort beforehand not to look exactly like a crazy murderer/rapist. The dude is a suspect on the strength of his hair alone.

With that in mind, I'm gonna go ahead and file this one away in the "crime of passion" category as opposed to "premeditated homicide."

Now I apologise of course for such a crass, tactless blog entry, but it needed to be said and if I'm the only one who thought this when he rolled up on the scene well you people must live in some scary places.

* * *

In other equally grisly news, rumour on the street is Sunday's episode of the Archers on radio four at 7:00pm which is the 60th anniversary episode, will feature an horrific Hungerford type gun massacre!

I mean really people, the Archers? My mum used to listen to that on Sunday's when I was a child. I hated it because it was so boring - back in the day it caused a scandal if two people kissed who weren't married. Now it's all racially motivated beatings and armed robberies. And we wonder why people can't even enjoy a pizza at home anymore without being seized upon and strangled. Sigh, we're dooooomed.

A ditch outside the Bull pub in Ambridge on Sunday


Now I don't want to sound like a spoilsport, but England haven't actually secured an Ashes victory yet have they, so why the silly dancing? I know of no other nation that would so enthusiastically celebrate not losing.

They have merely retained the Ashes. The fact remains that if everything cricketologists have been saying about both sides is true, then an Australian win in the final test of this series will make those premature celebrations all seem rather embarrassing. An awesome series will quickly turn into a disaster.

This England team is apparently one of the best England teams for years and years and years, while the Australian team is bloody useless and one of their worst for decades. Yet if the Aussies win the final test then we have a drawn series. Which makes those sprinkler dance celebrations look a bit stoopid.

29 December 2010

iPhone autocorrect mishap

More here: http://damnyouautocorrect.com

A confession

..and the man said, "careful sweetheart, that's not a banana you're peeling."

Oh hello people, didn't see you there. So I have a confession to make. My post from yesterday about the telescreens was a superb joke. It will of course happen one day, but this day is not yet upon us either on a voluntary or compulsory basis.

Sadly, also of course there are no such things as left-handed Subway Sammiches. Although I continue to email in about their introduction. I mean how hard can they be to make really!?

This blogging nonsense was in celebration of día de los santos inocentes. The Spanish world's April Fools Day if you will. Curious it should fall on December 28th if you ask me. You'd think all that stuff about Jesus and God a few days previous was amusing enough fantasy for one month.

I was very mischievous yesterday however. I drove around with a baby seat attached to the roof of my car in order to provoke a reaction of horror and disbelief from passers by. The funniest was a young woman who ran after my car screaming and waving her arms as if to try and gain my attention. She then slipped and smashed her face on the curb losing several teeth and quite a lot of blood. I almost wet myself laughing. You should have been there.

Then I pushed a pensioner into a puddle, but it was deeper than I thought and it took him nearly ten minutes to get out of it. He saw the funny side though, we were both in tears. And when the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital I stuffed a few bananas in their exhaust pipe. They were still there about four hours later! I heard they got the old goat to casualty just in time. Haha classic. Can't wait till next year.

28 December 2010

Hoorah, but we're doomed

We left-handed people have been subjected to a disgraceful but ignored discrimination for years, but Subway have taken up our cause with the introduction of left-handed subs. And about time too. No longer will I have to fumble awkwardly with ill shaped right handed sammiches. I've never felt so alive!!!

* * *

Nothing to hide: Mr Raffone yesterday

However in far more sinister news, we're doomed. Theresa May as we know, is a crazed feminist who is far too busy buying shoes to consider the consequences of her ill thought out discriminatory and invasive horse shit disguised as policy, but if we thought her "all-women" short-lists were the pinnacle of her suffragette inspired insidious lunacy we were very much underestimating her.

She has managed some how to persuade 1,000 families in Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire to trial 1984 style home telescreens that will give each family's local police stations a 24 hour a day window into their homes. According to Mzzz May this will make domestic violence a thing of the past as well as child abuse and promote a happier more loving environment in the home.

Michael Raffone 44, from Winslow in Buckinghamshire is one of the poor deluded saps who thinks this is a cracking idea. "I signed my family up for the scheme because I think it is a natural progression from the CCTV surveillance in the streets. We don't notice that now do we and it obviously deters criminals, so why wouldn't you want one in the home? The excuse that it's an invasion of privacy is pathetic. Do you want our children and women safe or do you want to be able to have a shower without being seen? Unless you have something more sinister than your modesty to protect you should not have a problem with this."

If the trial is successful Theresa May would like to see the scheme extended nationally on a voluntary basis and ultimately brought into law by 2014. I for one see no flaws in this plan. I see nothing wrong at all in assuming every man's guilt as either a wife beater or nonce until they can prove otherwise and can't see how anyone considering where this will all end might then immediately hack out their own jugular with some scissors.

As if this wasn't utterly terrifying enough, Theresa May also announced that a further 1,000 "random" UK citizens will be receiving a visit from a Government official (how sinister?) in January who will present the poor bastard with a catalog of their web-searches, emails, tweets and text messages and "discuss" with them anything at all they have deemed to be either illegal, inappropriate, racist or pertaining to acts of terrorism.

This rather intriguing intrusion into our lives (legal under the Terrorism act 2006), was quietly announced the day Prince William announced his engagement to the Middleton woman and so received no media attention. Well, splendid. That's me not answering the door until February then.

Full article here: www.http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1342076/1984-telescreen-a-reality.html

Nowhere to hide: Mr Raffone tomorrow

24 December 2010

Merry Christmas one and all

I don't usually bother with Christmas, but I'd still like to take this opportunity to wish all my blog followers a very merry Christmas. I hope tomorrow before your children begin pulling the wrapping paper from their presents and you all begin pulling the tops of bottles of brandy, you can find a moment to remember the true meaning of Christmas.

It is important we remind ourselves at this time of year how the stinkin' Jews want to spoil all our fun for us. Christmas is a celebration of the Crucifixion of the baby Santa who sacrificed his life so we could have presents on Christmas day.

This is the real reason we have such a good time on Christmas day and why we eat those sausages wrapped in bacon with our Turkey. In your faces Jews!


23 December 2010

Outstanding punts

I've just been auditing my various betting accounts. I was hoping my unsettled bets might provide some funds for me in the new year with which to buy as many sammiches as my face can accommodate. Unfortunately, it appears I'll be rationing out cold turkey until deep into 2011. They are outstanding only in terms of being unsettled.

I managed to back West Ham for example on the handicaps (+38pts) at 19.0. In my defense this bet was placed pre-season and West Ham had just bought Pablo Barrera and I assumed wrongly that stinkin' Israeli Avram Grant would have had the good sense to pick him. Half way through the season and they're already 21 pts behind Man Utd so that one is not looking promising.

Also pre-season I backed Chicharito and Marouane Chamakh for top goalscorer at 30.0 and 20.0 respectively. Chicharo has 3 goals, Chamakh has 7.

Current top scorer Berbatov has 11, but is obviously due a barren spell as he hasn't sulked in a few weeks so Marouane has an outside shot at this unless Ryan Shawcross has opportunity to snap his spine with an old fashioned robust challenge next time Arsenal play Stoke.

I appear to have backed Belgium to win Euro 2012 too. I have no explanation for this one. I don't even recall placing this wager. I can assume I was prescribed some strong medications at the time. Still, at 120.0 it's not such a bad price.

I've managed to back Wayne Rooney to be playing for a team other than Manchester United by February 1st 2011. Actually I've laid him to still be playing for United. I've put up £13 to win £250 at odds of 0.07. Currently layable at 1.04 however.

One of the more promising of these wild stabs in the dark is a £10 punt on the Chicago Bears to win the Superbowl. Backed at 42.0 they're now trading at something like 24.0. It's been an odd season, anything can happen. So why not, that's what I always say.

My final wager is I hope a banker. For it to be a white Christmas in Edinburgh. I've got £100 on at 2/1. If that doesn't come in I shall jolly well be pissed off.

Let is snow let it snow let it snow

22 December 2010

An intriguing Brain thingy

Have you notice as I have, how stinkin' commie pinko Ed Miliband can only speak out of the right side of his mouth? Given how his politics is ultra left-wing this is ironic no? I think this is what Neurologists call a "brain thingy."

Like, you know how they say the right side of ones brain controls the left side of ones body. I think this must also be true for ones politics. I've researched this thoroughly these last ten minutes or so since seeing Ed Miliband on the news spewing nonsense out of the right side of his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

Further evidence of this intriguing brain thingy can be found across the political spectrum. George W. Bush who I think we can all agree has an uncompromising right wing approach to everything Dick Cheney tells him to think, can only speak from the left side of his mouth.

It's possible then, his "southern drawl" is actually a consequence of his politics rather than his regional accent. Perhaps this is the case for all southerners in the US of States? Regional politics rather than accent?

Y'all are a bunch 'a stinkin' tourists, and aaaaah swear to Gaaad we'll send y'all to hell in a hand cart."

If further proof were needed I then spent a further 45 seconds thinking of someone whose politics is comfortably positioned in the centre ground. Someone who's liberal about some things and conservative about others. Someone for example, who wears those weird chunky sandals in the summer, but would still happily kick a paedophile to death in them if need be.

I chose Captain Jonathon Archer from the awesome Star Trek series of Enterprise. As you can see from our library picture, his mouth is perfectly horizontal.

Captain Archer while on a mission of exploration is of course keen to meet new species, but still has reservations about a multi-cultural, multi-species society.

He has prejudices, but can set them aside until he's proven right. Take the Vulcans for example...arrogant bastards, and hypocrites too..who the fuck do they think they are actually. He's far more tolerant of them than I would be.

They remind me of Catholic priests and Nazis. Repressing emotions the way they do, God only knows what they're capable of and then justifying with that logical horse shit. It makes me sick.

Sorry people I digress.

Wait, what was I saying? I've lost my train of thought. I think I've made my point though haven't I? That'll be all for now. Dismissed.

20 December 2010

Biscuits and stuff

So last night I was able to return home from the Abingdon pokering establishment's Christmas freeze-out cum re-buy, with a tin a of biscuits. You see everyone who plays gets a wee something just for playing. When you bust out you pick a raffle ticket out of a hat and receive your prize.

Three years in a row now my prize has been a tin of biscuits. I was hoping for the twin pack of After Eight mints, but I remain satisfied. What are the chances though!? Roughly fifty prizes and three times I pick out the biscuits. I've seen it all now.

* * *

Weather now and on my home last night my car temperature display read -14˚c. I'm quite sure this never used to happen when I was a child. If I recall correctly from my childhood -6˚c was
enough to have us pulling on our thermal under garments and shaking our heads at the crazyness of it all.

What I've noticed with my keen eye and extensive research into human nature though, is that there is definitely some sort of masochistic desire amongst us to see these temperatures plummet to new and intolerable depths. This is especially so amongst the news media.

The only other figures they report with such rabid enthusiasm are the death tolls of natural disasters. Female reporters display this eagerness with a palpable arousal.

I think I recall Kate Silverton reporting on the Haiti earth quake that up to 100,000 people may have died and having to pause to adjust her knickers as they were clinging to her sopping wet genitals.

I'm not sure exactly what causes this morbid fascination with large scale disasters, but I for one am bored of it. It's only been a few weeks since it started snowing and already I can understand why the Scandinavians are such odd people.

If this continues for much longer there's a significant chance of us succumbing to the elements it's ways we cannot imagine. The deeper we sink into this winter, the further east our nations character will reflect. First the Scandies, then the Poles and eastern Europeans. Then the RUSSIANS! When that happens, we'll wish we were Haitians.

We're doooomed.

19 December 2010


I haven't watched the BBC Sports Personality of the Year show since the two most important days of the year for me were the FA Cup final and Christmas day, but since I have abandoned my plans to play the Abingdon Christmas poker event tonight due to being snowed in and I am also running out of cowboy films, it's highly likely I'll be watching it tonight.

Obviously I'll have to have a bet, so I did some preliminary research into how the voting is cast and who the favourites are. Well I have to say I haven't been confronted by so much crap since the one and only time I've ever changed a babies nappy.

Did you know for example that Ryan Giggs won it last year!! Ryan Giggs, what did he do to deserve it? Were they so short of 'personalities' they had to pick a hairy Welshman who can't play two games in a row anymore because he gets tired?

It became clear this award is settled with a public vote and all the United fans must have just piled in. Although why they didn't vote for Rooney who seemed a more obvious choice I'm still not clear. I'd like to know if Giggs was favourite to win on the day of the show so I shall do some further research on this.

Of the current batch I was surprised nay baffled by the inclusion of Tony McCoy and astonished to see him trading as 1.5 clear favourite on the Betfairs. I assumed wrongly, the winners had to be British (isn't there an overseas personality award?).

No doubting the boy McCoy deserves some recognition for his achievements, but a crappy trophy handed out by an increasingly irrelevant BBC that no one surely cares about anymore is hardly fitting. Also, excluding racing and gamblesmiths does anyone really know who he is?

Having given the favourites a once over without knowing the prices available, I assumed Graeme Swann and Lee Westwood would be the favourites what with Europe winning the Ryder Cup and Westwood over taking the semi-professional sexoligist Tiger Woods as world number one Golfist and also of course the Ashes being played at the moment and Swann being number one spinner.

But no! Swann is 170.0 on Betfair and Westwood something like 30.0! Cwazy. Has this already been decided or sommink? In case I can't be arsed to do any further research I'm going to have a few shillings on these two anyway.

I've now lost interest in this so I'm going to end here and watch Star Trek and eat some rice pudding. What about you?

18 December 2010


If you haven't played poker at the Three Pigeons this won't mean anything to you..if you have you might find this amusing.

While reading the updates from the Monte Carlo event at DTD on Blonde, which you can find here - I came across Paul Jackon's bust out hand.

It made me laugh. Not because he busted in the second level, just because he's a very experienced professional who's probably forgotten more about poker than most of the Pigeon's players combined will ever know, yet no Pigeons player would bust in this spot.

The hand in question played out like this:

- Paul Jackson calls a late position raise with J-8 in the big blind.

- Flop J-8-4 rainbow.

- He check called the flop intending to check raise the turn.

- On a blank turn, a rag, his opponent open shoved 25,000 into 5,000. (hmmmm I wonder what he could have and weather he's related to Joy?)

-Paul calls and his opponent shows him a pair of Jacks. (Well durrrr. Just surprised he didn't shove on the flop)

-Tighty's comment - "Tricky not to go bust here, right?" (Right, for all but eight or nine battle hardened players in the Cotswolds for whom it's an easy fold)

* * *

It's snowing heavily as we speak which probably means I'll be staying indoors for the next few weeks, possibly months. I always think of The Shining when it snows like this. My main concern is I only have one loaf of bread and I'm running low on ham.

There's a danger I might have to have something other than sammiches for lunch in the coming days. I can see myself attempting to brave the elements in order to visit the Co-ops for sammich making ingredients and getting stuck at the end of the road never to return. I fancy it's a risk worth taking.

Must buy peppered ham...urghh

A simples people

Have you seen this? You can buy the "autobiography" of that Meerkat on those insurance adverts! Are people seriously buying this? I know education standards in this country have plummeted to new and depressing depths, but are they seriously now at a level where people will obliviously PAY an Insurance company monies to sell their policies to them?

This little chap is funny, there's no doubt about that. I hope there's never a time where I don't find a comedy Russian accent amusing, but though but, ...he is still a character in a series of adverts for an Insurance price comparison website, which was set up by a group of insurance brokers.

By selling this book to the public, the public is paying for all of their advertising costs. The public is paying this Group to sell them insurance.

It's very clever in fact to exploit this ignorance so pervasive throughout all but a tiny fraction of the population, but surely it's at least unethical isn't it? It's like the Subway people stopping me in the street with a tray of new sammiches and asking me to taste them all and tell them which is the most orgasmic and then charging me £5 for the information I'm giving them, to help them sell me more sammiches in the future.

I'd be OK with that though to be fair, I'd fall for it. Especially if there was a spicy Mexican option, perhaps I shouldn't be so disparaging?

Crab quesidillas tomorrow?

* * *

The Ashes is getting all very intense. I found the sledging accusations all rather amusing. Mitchell Johnson for example questioning Jimmy Anderson's sexuality as he's posed for a gay magazine.

Mitchell Johnson has either got no sense of irony or just hasn't taken a close look at himself recently. He's got a dragon tattoo on his right arm and a massive black panther tattoo down the left side of his body.

He couldn't look any more gay if he lay on a sofa in the team hotel watching Glee DVDs in a fluorescent green thong with his head resting on Ricky Ponting's thighs.

Whoospie jibes apart, I do actually want Australia to win. I can't recall exactly what I wagered before the series began, but I think it was a 4-0 and 3-1 win for Australia. Unlikely. I'll settle for a 22 man bitch fight.

* * *

Now that the football season is effectively over for Arsenal I will need to find something else to pique my interest. I've been fighting the urge to do a jigsaw. I don't know where this desire has come from, but it's real. I've never attempted a proper grown ups jigsaw before. Would that mean my life is over? I'm comfortable with not wanting to go out every weekend and get pissed, but is doing jigsaws too sedate for someone my age? I still haven't even developed a taste for wine. I do have a have a cardigan though.

This is something I'll need to discuss with myself at the next big meeting. I have nothing else to say at this time, so if there aren't any questions i'll bid you goodnight.

14 December 2010

Police to shout and use pillows to quell rioters

Do the police read my blog? No sooner had I suggested hosing down student protesters than these same tactics are indeed now being discussed. Unfortunately I was advocating the use of live rounds not water.

Now I knew we'd gone soft in this country, (Ken Clarke wants empty prisons for Christmas) brainwashed by so many years of liberal Government, but I must confess I hadn't realised quite how soft until the howls of protest from every liberal minded brown jumper wearing African orphan adopter in the country at the mere proposal of using water cannons the next time these students want to destroy some priceless piece of architecture or symbol of our thousand year struggle for the very freedom that is preventing the police from stoving their heads in.

It's water for heaven's sake! WATER! We throw it at each other in the summer. Students may be unfamiliar with the stuff, but these bearded do-gooders who are so outraged on their behalf are not. Dear God, it falls from the freakin' sky every day in this country. If this is considered too harsh what are the police left with to quell a feces of rioting parasites, pillows? Perhaps some harsh language?

There was a time when we used to take anyone who opposed the Crown or the Government to the Tower where they would experience so much pain they would plead for Satan to end their suffering as hell didn't seem quite so unpleasant by comparison. Fast forward 400 years and now spraying someone with water is considered beyond the pale.

What I'd really like to see is Ken Clarke and Jody McIntyre trampled to death live on the BBC by a team of police horses. Ken Clarke for his utter contempt for punitive punishments for criminals and Jody McIntyre because he represents everything I hate about those revolutionary hypocrites and keyboard warriors who can't wait to get up in the morning to be offended on someone else's behalf.

That people, is what I want for Christmas.

Ken Clarke laughing at the idea of sending a criminal to prison, yesterday

13 December 2010

Sausages, Monte Carlo and Jo

So look, it's going to be a while before my sausages are ready so let's discuss a few things in the meantime shall we? Couple of things in particular if you'll indulge me? Splendid, then let's begin.

In a brief moment of reckless abandon I had my mouse clicking finger poised over the "Buy-in" button for the £1000 Monte Carlo thing at Dusk Till Dawn next week. In the end my reasons for passing up this opportunity to compete for many thousands of monies for two fold:

Firstly, I would not win. Granted this was the most persuasive of the two arguments. Secondly, I'm currently struggling with head aches at the moment that develop usually when I'm asleep, but sometimes randomly and can only be soothed by immediately crawling up in a fetal position and pleading to the Gods for salvation.

It's down to CO2 retention you see. I don't exhale properly as my breathing is shallow, and when I'm asleep and dreaming of that Valance woman this retention is accentuated, so I usually wake up with a pounding headache, soon relieved when I'm up and about and breathing more deeply, but sometimes not.

Unfortunately this can also occur when I'm playing poker. I concentrate so hard I don't breath deeply enough or I just forget. Suddenly just as I'm fixing to execute an awesome bluff my face becomes hurtsome and I cain't concentrate. My only course of action at this time is to immediately go home and assume the fetal position, or if I'm miles away from home I must suffer until it eases and sulk.

My nightmare scenario of course, is that I show up at Subway place and there's a lengthy queue, and while I wait patiently for my lunch I forget to breath properly and as I near the front of the queue I am in such agony that I have to abandon my breaded prize and go home. Dear Gah, the horror...I won't sleep tonight now.

Because of all this nonsense there was talk at the big house of my trying an NIV to ease my woes. This is a non-invasive ventilator. It's an airtight mask one straps round ones face in the night and it blasts air down into ones lungs and sort of sucks it back out again, opening up ones airways and essentially shouldering the burden of breathing which can be rather hard work.

I decided that this was not for me however and I'd rather have the headaches. But for now it will mean I'm reluctant to travel any further from my home than I could buy a Meatball sammich from a Subway place and return home while it was still hot, say 15 miles max.

And that is about all I've got to say about that so let's move on.

* * *

On a lighter note, it seems clear to me that Jo will win the Apprentice this time around. My reasons for this conclusion are threefold; firstly she represents two minority groups and the BBC are hysterically PC and will not want to risk upsetting the feminist movement or racial equality people.

In fact, she technically represents three groups as she's border line mentally retarded and I know the Scope organisation are keeping tabs on all the latest developments. I'm told they have already composed an uncompromising email to the BBC director general, CC'd to Alan Sugar and the actor who played the retard in the Machine Gunners (where you going now!?) reminding them to see the person not the disability.

Secondly, Jo has no education to speak of. This will be a major plus for her in the next episode when the remaining five candidates CV's are surgically dissected and their lies exposed.

Jo knows only one thing. She must get her point across. Jo will not put milk on her cereal in the morning unless she has managed to get at least three points across. It matters not what these points are, just that they are gotten across. This is a common trait amongst the stupid; talk a lot and loudly thus compensating for the lack of actual knowledge.

So there it is then...I'd given up on the show as Sugar had fired the lovely looking Laura and that wild bitch Paloma, but I'll see it through to the end now to see if I'm right. I suggest you do the same. She has the power of ignorance does Jo, this will appeal to Sugar as it his own defining characteristic and it won't allow her to accept defeat and I look forward to a world class speech of utter nonsense if it looks like her numbers up as she gets one final point across.

"NOTHING IS OVER! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war!
You asked me, I didn't ask you! And I did what I had to do to win, but
wouldn't let us win! And I come back to the world and I see all
those maggots
at the airport, protesting me, spitting. Calling me baby killer
and all kinds of vile crap!
Who are they to protest me? Who are they?
Unless they've been me and been there
and know what the hell they're yelling about?"

11 December 2010

Kiss Kiss

Who remembers Holly Valance? She was in Neighbours and then released a single and I think now works in a call centre for the Car Phone Warehouse.

Anyway, in a series of crazy dreams last night I was able to make sweet love to her, and I thought since I know she reads my blog, I'd offer her some constructive advice on her love making techniques.

Now of course I'm all for a woman taking a more dominant position, in fact it helps my back is she wishes to be on top, but I have to say to young Holly, while I do sometimes enjoy a bit of dirty talk if the mood is right, I don't really like being spat at. It's not...it's not sexy do you see?

So a bitter sweet experience really. And it was only to get worse when I woke up to find a tube of hand cream on the shelf of my head board had tipped over and dripped goo all over my face. Well that explains her gobbing on me, I said to myself. Still, you've got to laugh.

10 December 2010

How to make a club sammich

Judge a society by how they treat their animals

Now of course as you know we don't discuss politics, religion or alternatives to sammiches for lunch on this blog, but we do make exceptions every now and then when we get backed into a corner and there's nothing on telly.

I'm not sure what the collective noun for a crowd of students is, so for the purposes of this blog entry we'll just refer to them as a "feces". Watching this grotty feces of students this evening busting up the Treasury and the Supreme Court was sufficient enough to fully extend my dander, but having concluded their desecration of the very symbols of this countries centuries old struggle for a democratic and just society - they then decided to launch a rather extraordinary attack on the heir apparent. We can't accept this.

Had I been enjoying some soup at the time I'd have surely spat it out. As it was I watched open mouthed at these events mouthing the words "animals...animals...god damned animals" and asked myself how on Earth can this be happening? I couldn't help but hark back to 1989 and the Tiananmen Square massacre. What would happen if some students pulled this kind of silly crap on the Chinese Government? Well they'd be shot wouldn't they, because they did and they were.

You see now the Tiananmen Square massacre was all very unfortunate of course, particularly as those students really had something to jolly well complain about...but is it a coincidence that the country who wouldn't tolerate being made to look foolish by a feces of upstarts who can't even grow full beards now essentially owns the globe, while our own country where the police can't so much as arrest a suspect without first filing reams of paper work with the European Court of Human rights is currently at it's lowest political standing in it's entire thousand years of history.

There was a time when we created history, these events confirm we as a nation are now history.

Now I'm not of course suggesting that the Army should have been drafted in to hose these little scruffy cereal eating Countdown fanatics down in a bloody show of Governmental totalitarian power. I would however like to know if it was at least considered?

I've said this many times and people have just scoffed, ignored me, or thrown me out of the Subway Sammich place for upsetting the customers, but this country is riddled with a passive-aggressive Liberal wishy-washy egalitarian form of Euro-cancer.

The treatment for cancer of course is often as destructive as the disease, but only the form of political chemo-therpahy that Germany, Russia and of course China have all survived offers any kind of panacea for our current stately malaise. We need the most ruthless, remorseless, unhinged dictator to take charge and quite literally slaughter almost everyone. It's the only way forward.

Chemotherapy as we know is essentially just poison injected directly into the blood system killing good cells and cancerous ones. It's like wiping ones hard-drive and starting again if one survives the wiping process. But I'm game if you are.

The alternative is complete integration into a European superstate which will fail anyway. If we're a condemned nation anyway, I don't want my last meal to have been fried in olive oil. I think you know what I'm trying to say.

Olive oil yesterday. NO!

7 December 2010

Hoorah, boooo

Bet placed at 2:49! Phew

Saw a post on Blonde poker today for a horse tip in the 2:50 at Lingfield (thank you Mr Eso Kral). Looked at the clock, it was 2:48! I've just now been able to blow the winnings on an appalling Champions League wager.

Hoorah, boooo.


People often say to me, "Rich why are you always talking about sandwiches, I only asked for the time." And it's a fair enough point which I'll address at a later date, but for now I'd like to talk about sandwiches.

I understand that there are perfectly intelligent and reasonable people out there who have something other than sandwiches for lunch and that's fine. I know of at least three people for example who enjoy a meat pie. I even read of some one in Kansas who regularly eats bagels.

To each their own, that's what I always say. What I can't accept however is when these people impose their bohemian diets on other people. Take fat divorcees for example who own a lot of cats and eat salad for lunch under the misapprehension this will help them lose weight despite the fact that they will be having cake for pudding.

They want other people eating salads. They know they will never lose any weight, but they can't admit it to themselves and the more people they can persuade to eat salads with them, the easier it becomes to live the lie. It's pathetic isn't it.

*This blog entry is to be taken literally, it is not an allegorical rejection of organised religion. All blog entries rejecting organised religion will be far less subtle, as religious types in my experience can't take a hint.

5 December 2010

Just a pretty face

Victoria Coren I thought was a good all round egg. Very nice looking, a delicious bosom, and marinated with a posh sauciness that could satisfy one's sexual appetite for some considerable time. But also intelligent too, witty and fun. In short, more than just a pretty face.

Now of course we don't discuss religion on this blog, or politics or the alternatives to sammiches for lunch - those contentious issues were for the old blog. But we must however take a moment to register our disappointment having read her column today in the Observer that Victoria Coren is just a pretty face after all.

We don't need to re-visit the whole Creationism v Evolution debate here. Apart from anything else, it's not even a legitimate debate. A Creationist of course has no claim to a place at the table when the origins of life is being debated anymore than a Witch. Creationism is not a legitimate alternative theory.

However, the guff within the wider guff of young Vicky's column can be addressed. First of all her describing of Rowan Williams as a "believer and an intellectual." This is a baffling and head scratching branding of anyone with a beard in recent memory. A believer and an intellectual is of course a contradiction in terms. One can't very well believe in fairies and be an intellectual.

Even if you could, he's not an intellectual anyway. Rowan Williams is a Theologian. He's no more an intellectual than those Professors in the US of States who teach Klingon. I could be an intellectual if the only criteria is to be an authority on stuff you've made up.

It was this line however which simultaneously had me spitting out my cola-pop and exploded my image of young Vicky with such energy that it took on an actual physical force and knocked over my little Smurf.."Atheism seems to get the cool, brainy people. We need witty thinkers to speak up for God."

It's difficult to know where to begin with such an observation. Why young Vicky, why do you think all these brainy people are atheists? Might it be because one has to be rather ignorant to still believe in God in the 21st century?

If all the brainy people have drifted towards doing one thing and all the stupid people are doing another what does it tell you about the thing the stupid people are doing? And how pray tell, would having more witty "believers"make the existence of God more likely?

What have witty people got to do with it? Unless you think witty people would be more likely to con the masses into believing in God again? Do you want people who can't think for themselves to believe in God just to make yourself feel better about the absurdity of your own faith?

Vicky wants more thinking rational believers to make themselves known. The irony of course is by highlighting her own faith she has excluded herself from the very group she wishes to lead. Rational intelligent thinkers are mutually exclusive from believers. They're completely incompatible attributes. You can't be rational and believe in God as belief in a super-natural fairy is irrational.

Still, she's pretty and has money so she doesn't need to be intelligent. She'll never have to work and lucky for her, so she can continue to say these things and not have to concern herself with how awful and embarrassing it comes across and their potentially detrimental financial consequences. It's a different matter for the less privileged morons she seeks to recruit.

If she's looking to start a movement how about the "Pretty women who have money and therefore have license to say silly things disguised as thinking" club...I should imagine Sheryl Crow would be keen to join after her comment a few years ago about us all only using one square or toilet paper after we've had a poo as this will save the planet. Sheryl would have to lead the group however as she would be the brains of the operation.

4 December 2010

Samir Nasri second goal v Fulham

Great goal and everything, but why not just slot it in with your left foot Samir? I know you're a loyal reading of my blog, so I say this with the greatest of respect as you're a beautiful man, but imagine if your little swivel had gone wrong and you'd fallen on your backside! In hindsight a crazy piece of unnecessary swivelage I think you'll agree?

Thank you to Arsenalist.com (Twitter @Arsenalist) for posting the goal.

29 November 2010

28 November 2010

My little pony

So unfortunately the plan to conquer Europe yesterday did not come to fruition. Everything's a bit hazy as I think someone must have spiked my lager and Baileys, but I think from the moment I sat down in the wrong seat in the main event, it was always going to be a confused and unsuccessful campaign.

I was in great spirits at the beginning of it all. Arsenal had just dished out a thrashing to Aston Villa and it may have been the tears of joy welling up in my eyes that blurred my vision to an extent that I couldn't read the seat assignment list properly and was then able to mistake Table 17 seat 8 for Table 17 seat 5.

Bizarrely seat 5 was open, so I was unable to identify my error until earlier today when I happened across the seating list on the APAT website. This seat was open because the chap who was meant to be sat their had also sat himself in the wrong seat!

While completely oblivious to this clandestine musical chairs of sorts, my mind was distracted by the comings and goings of the "Pro League" game running simultaneously to the main event. More goings than comings in fact as there were only 6 runners registered as kick-off approached!

I was going to play this game as it still has the added value of a GUKPT seat regardless of the number of runners, but was unable to unregister from the Main Event. So a cunning plan was quickly developed in my thinking head. It was at this point the main deviation from the original grand plan for the weekend occurred.

I contrived to lose half my stack in the first hand I played with a poorly timed bluff. It was 3:05pm, registration for the Pro game closed at 4:20pm Greenwich mean time. The plan was clear, get busy build a stack or go bust. I went bust.

I removed myself from the seat I should never of been sat in in the first place and walked with haste to the proper poker room on the other side of the casino, stopping on the way by the roulette tables for a rest as I was wearing heavy boots and this made me quickly knackered.

Some moments later I had released £250 of your Earth monies from my pocket and was sat down at the Pro League game (pot limit hold 'em this time) and was soon losing chips to what I think was a Turkish man.

I enjoyed this game however and found myself wishing I had played the whole season as Pot Limit Hold 'em is an under-rated discipline in my opinion. When you don't have the all-in shove weapon in your Arsenal you actually have to play poker. This is good stuff if you're playing people who aren't as good as you, but not quite so good if you're the value at the table.

I was the value at the table, but nonetheless if the series survives into season 5 this will be my priority, also because it's a one day event and the two day games are too darn tiring for these old bones these days.

I exited in fairly unspectacular fashion and found myself at the bar soon after. Things became very hazy at this point and I suspect it was around this time that some one began spiking my lager and Baileys.

As I approached the cash tables it was clear I was trollied. What on Earth do they put in their Baileys I asked myself. I definitely tasted a hint of whisky so it was probably that. I exchanged a further £200 of your earth monies and some time later after I'd distributed my chips amongst all and sundry I sat down somewhere and then suddenly Alan was turning into my street and I was home! It was like magic. I was in Coventry, then I was home. Smashing!

At this point though I was in great pain. Whatever people were putting in my lager and Baileys had given me a wicked headache and sapped my strength. In fact it was all I could do to throw off my clothes and launch the contents of my pockets over a wide area in my living room and bedroom before collapsing in bed, still though some how with one boot on.

I will analysis the weekend in great detail when my eye sight fully returns, but to sum up it was simply a case of best laid plans etc etc. It will be important for me to highlight my strengths and weaknesses however if APAT Season 5 is to be anything other than a series of hazy recollections of £500 weekends, ill-timed bluffs and heavy footwear.

What am I doing right? What am I doing badly? Am I too aggressive? Is my bet sizing usually correct for the situation? Was that woman really appalled when I showed her my elephant impression? I think she was already crying when I rolled up on the scene.

All these questions and more will be answered in the coming weeks. In the meantime some soup.

26 November 2010

Aircrew cause turbulance

Flight crew of ailing Mexicana airlines have taken it upon themselves to pose for a calendar absolutely jam packed full of sauce to help supplement their wages. And why not? Bravo chicas bravo.

While the selfish bitches from British Airways over here strike because they're only getting 50% more wages than other airlines and don't give a shit about ruining people's holidays, Mexicana air crew simply expose themselves.

We can all learn something from this excellent example of taking responsibility for ones own life. We think everyone owes us a living in this country that's our problem. Just get your tits out and stop whining BA employees, that's what I always say.

La conquista del Europa

So now, well now, so now...big weekend coming up for which I'm currently bulking up on flap jacks and rice pudding and burning the candle at both ends in order to draw up my final plans for the big push - Saturday's conquest of Europe....in Coventry.

I will claim the entire continent for Mexico via a game of poker and finally FINALLY, I will not have to travel to London to find a Mexican restaurant or have to tolerate gay weather men on the BBC and their inaccurate baffling effeminate forecasts..."hello darlings, as you're probably aware brrrr it's a bit chilly out."

Now that's what I'm talking about ¡hot! ¡hot! ¡hot!

Tacos will be available in every town and afternoon naps will become of Royal Decree..the newly installed Mexican Royal family that is....after King Danny Trejo's Coronation which will take place next Saturday afternoon after the slaughtering of the Queen's mangy Corgi's in the morning all of whichare being replaced with King Trejo's Chihauhaus.

King Danny Trejo with one of the Royal Chihuahua's, Tenoch, yesterday

24 November 2010

In the clink

Ashes tonight woooo! Love the Ashes when the Aussies are hosting as it's on at a reasonable time of the night. Can't stand it when it's in England and you're having to get up and God awful times of the day and can't even keep your eyes open cause the sun gets in 'em. Urghh.

Being English I'm obviously neutral, but I like to pick a team to give myself an interest other than a betting one. For my American readers let me just explain the Ashes. It's contested every two years. Originally it was contested between England and her Majesties penal colony of Australia. Recently though it's become Australia versus an amalgamation of her Majesties other colonies - predominantly South Africa and India, with perhaps an English Captain to boss them about.

I hate South Africans. I think I hate South Africans more than the French. At least the French are cowards and easily defeated. South Africans have a unique gene that makes them remorselessly evil bastards who exist only to cause as much pain and suffering on the rest of the world as is physically and psychologically possible.

They can usually only do this though in the comfort and safety of their own dungeons and purpose built slums. Out in Australia though they'll be out of their comfort zone. If you've ever walked or driven past a prison and felt the harshness and intimidating imposing feel of the place, you'll have an appreciation for how visiting teams feel when they land in Australia.

There's some irony here. "England" prisoners behind their own bars. Aha aha ahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha

Er..anyway, I'm backing Australia -1.5 tests on the handicaps 3-1 win or 4-1 will do nicely.

Welcome to Australia

**I've changed my mind betting wise, I've backed England to not win a test at 10/3.

Unprecedented conditions

I heard tell of heavy snow fall last week and by Christ it looks like it's about to happen too. Yet city councils up and down the country will be frantically drawing up plans as we speak to explain why they we're prepared for it all.

Unprecedented volume is one excuse I expect to be brought out early despite what happened last year. Then stuff about how they only have enough salt to grit major roads as they don't usually order salt in November.

Whatever the excuses, we are clearly doomed and I urge you all to stock up on meatballs and sammich making ingredients today...before it's too late.

23 November 2010

Going round in circles

Why can't we walk in straight lines?

21 November 2010

Dog tired

Lord ha' mercy I'm tired people. These IV antibiotics really mess up my sleeping pattern, which was all over the shop anyway. Usually I have no idea what time it is, but as we speak I'm not 100% on what day it is. I think I've got two more days to go. Or sixty five sleeps in real terms.

When I'm tired like this I can't think at all. Even basic tasks have me scratching my head like an Ape who's just been rooting around in the satchel of some nosy biologist he's just viciously torn to pieces looking for sandwiches and found his iPod.

I made the mistake just now of trying to fully appreciate the genius of Patrick Hughes' reverse perspective art shown in this wee video. I just couldn't grasp it and became angry and started roaring like our Ape friend in the previous paragraph and busted up my living room.

This sort of thing makes me almost believe maybe the human race will have a chance of not de-evolving itself into extinction after all and that in a couple thousand years we won't be the ones in the forests staring bewilderingly at an iPod owned by a Chinese biologist.

While many many Totterington fans are already spawning off-spring without opposable thumbs, fortunately there are still people like Patrick Hughes on this Earth with IQ's large enough to keep our gene pool rich and diverse enough to continue the evolution of the species and compensate for the underclasses from N17 who know only what they read in the Daily Star.

20 November 2010

New iPhone

I can't wait till they can make these. Can you? Well, I can't.

19 November 2010


Serious post today, about how we deal with death. Don't panic people, I'm not about to curl my toes up, just need to get this off my chest (that's a CF pun that is) and since there's nothing on telly I thought I'd do it now.

It's a language issue really. Specifically the kind of language we use when someone has died from an illness - it's usually cancer but I have heard the same choice of words used many times after the passing of CF patients too..it's a response to a death from incurable illnesses really.

The phrase in question is "so and so lost their battle with [insert disease]." This is very unfair on the deathee. By that rationale if everyone who dies from an incurable illness is deemed to have lost their battle, then that makes all of us losers because we're all going to die aren't we.

How does anyone get to win? It's impossible. To win you'd have to defeat the disease, but by definition you can't defeat an incurable disease, so we're all condemned to lose by people who are trying to tactfully and respectfully announce our death.

And why is it necessary to think of life in those terms anyway? Winning and losing? Who decides what constitutes a win? It's a funny old business. If you must see life in these rather simplistic terms - winning and losing ought to be judged on what sort of a life the person led, not on it's inevitable ending.

I myself have never battled against CF even if at a younger rebellious age I thought I was. CF is as much a part of me as anything else..my personality, my sense of humour and my lovely eyes. It has a negative impact on my life, as so do those other things I just mentioned. But it also has had an equally positive impact, one just needs to think a little more abstractly to recognise this. Granted that takes a bit of time, but eventually the bigger picture emerges. It's like those anamorphic pictures that only make sense when you see them from a very specific point of view and then it all becomes clear.

Point is anyway, I live with CF not battle against it.

Now then, the point of this post is if you know me to set people right when the time comes and you happen to hear someone using this depressing and unfair summarising to describe my passing.

Well now, I think that about covers it. Much obliged.

18 November 2010

You Toob comment of the day

"Why are the Romulans such bastards? They're always up to something.

17 November 2010