29 April 2011

Proud to be British? Bit late for that.

With the eyes of the world on the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge,
a waiting footman takes a crafty peek down Pippa Middleton's top

It's an intriguing business this Royal Wedding. If the polls before today were to be believed almost no one was going to be watching it. Obviously this was bollocks as no one wanted to admit they'd be glued to it.

I myself had no intention of watching it, only because I'm almost never awake at that time of the day. However, due to an occurrence that occurred, I was awake and I clicked between it and the Aussie Rules Football on ESPN.

An interesting juxtaposition I think you'll agree. What's intrigued me more than how many people in this country have watched this thing, is how many people in other countries have tuned in. Republics..countries that are openly opposed to Monarchies.

The US of States for example. They've gone mad over it. They love the Royals. Love them they do. What on Earth was the War of Independence about if 245 years later you're all going to get up at 5am and watch a Royal wedding?

If you listen to Aussies like Cazillionaire Rupert Murdoch who shits gold, he'll tell you the Monarchy is the pinnacle of the class system. But he would say that. I'd probably say that too if my ancestors were transported to the other side of the globe for being flashers and underwear thieves.

Ben Elton famously moved to Australia as a protest against the Monarchy. Has anyone noticed he'd left? He felt they were parasites despite only costing the tax payer 36p a year. Old crones living in state sponsored housing.

One has to give the man credit for keeping a straight face while delivery such jaw dropping hypocrisy. A socialist, Mr Elton would rather see the state controlling everything, yet he's opposed to the Monarchy living in State sponsored accommodation?

A Republic isn't free from social strata anyway. You show me a Republic that doesn't have a class system in some shape or form. It doesn't exist except in episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, but even then it inevitably turns out to be an horrific dystopia where proles are kept underground and forced to wear tatty leather and unnecessary shoulder pads.

No..I've no problems with The Monarchy. Weddings I have problems with, but The Monarchy no. I'm cool with them. What has irked me today however is this nonsense about how everyone is so proud of being British. This in fact angers me.

These people are so proud of being British that they haven't noticed how being British is almost a criminal offense now because they have stood by and watched successive Governments over the past couple of decades sign away it's very Sovereignty, it's Britishness if you will - the centuries of history that the pomp and ceremony of today symbolises. ' Oh I don't really care about politics'..is the usual excuse.

D'uh fucking hell. People this ignorant should be tied to one of those enormous ceremonial horses and dragged through the streets of London until they have eroded such they can simply be mopped up with a sponge. If you were really proud of being British you'd take the time to understand how hard and bloody a struggle it has been over the past ten centuries to acquire these values and appreciate they need to be defended.

But fine then, if you only care about weddings fair enough, but of course because you don't care about politics and because you're too busy putting bunting up, that may very well be the last Royal Wedding you get to weep over as Great Britain is soon to be absorbed entirely into the European State.

Can people not understand this or see it? That means no more Royal Family people. No more street parties and those silly ornate mugs.

Instead it means men and lesbians from Germany telling you how to fill your dustbin and forcing you to measure your apples using the metric system.

There is nothing about Britain to be proud of because it barely exists. Everything that this country ever had to be proud of has been systematically dismantled, put in boxes and confiscated.

Handed over to Jerry in exchange for a silly blue flag and a new set of rules written in twenty languages except English so we don't understand them.

The Germans, who we defeated with no help from anyone else not 70 years ago, precisely to preserve our way of life and our values and our heritage and our friggin' Royal weddings. We have fought centuries of wars over our identity. What was the point of those wars? The millions of deaths? It wasn't so we could all be told what to do by someone called van Rumpey.

I give up on trying to work the world out when the people living in a country who fought a war to get away from our Monarchy will go mental over them and get up at 5am to watch live when they marry, and yet British people who claim not to care about them will waste a whole day off work to watch one of them getting married despite never having met him in person and drink in the Britishness of the occasion only to completely ignore or fail to appreciate that that very Britishness they so enjoyed today has to be defended.

British values have so eroded you can't leave a push bike unattended unless it's chained up because if it's just left on the front lawn some thieving European will have it away. Well same applies to Sovereignty people.

I've said my piece I'll bid you good night.

Congratulations Prince William, get stuck in mate,
before a German throws his towel over her.

23 April 2011

Teeside Power Plant

This is the sort of thing that used angry up my blood before I resigned from the world and stopped caring. I only post this as an example as the kind of thing that no longer bothers me.

From Richard North's excellent EUReferendum.com
A couple of days ago, we wrote about Teeside Power Station owned by International Power, which was being partially mothballed, reducing capacity from 1,875 megawatt (MW) to a mere 45MW from 1 April. But the idea of this company closing down the bulk of its operation, in order then to purchase nuclear energy from France seemed to us to be more than a little bizarre.

Needless to say, we should have guessed that there was another agenda at work. As with the Corus steel works milking the system, it seems that International Power is one of the companies which will be sharing a bonanza of £100m in free carbon allowances, that it will not need to use because of its plant closedown, as its CO2 emission will drop dramatically.

Amongst other beneficiaries are Centrica, and Scottish & Southern Energy. Despite ceasing to produce electricity from some of their plants, the energy companies still receive the carbon credits which they can trade on international markets – giving substantial windfalls.

Centrica has put four plants – Barry, Brigg, Peterborough and Kings Lynn – into "preservation mode", which means they are not producing but ready to be switched on. Scottish and Southern Energy stopped generating at its Fife plant on 31 March.

DECC confirms that an installation which permanently closes retains the full allocation for the year in which it closed down. For temporary and partial closure the installation carries on as normal. There are no adjustments to its allocation. Ready customers for these credits might be the airline industry, with Lufthansa just about to start trading in CO2 permits, as the EU emissions trading scheme starts to apply to commercial flying.

Soon enough, we will be seeing fare hikes to pay for this absurdity, but customers will doubtless be comforted by the thought that they are increasing the profits of firms such as International Power, which has put 100 men on the dole to gain its extra credits. Clearly, the benefits of the EU just keep multiplying. Why on earth would we ever want to leave?

22 April 2011

Amusing Japanesers

Nonsense of the week

So I'm just about to enjoy a nice bath followed by a shower to get myself clean from my bath when this song comes on Absolute Radio 90s. Boyzone..Love me for a reason. This is possibly the most ridiculous, sickening, misguided, over-emotional three or four minutes of verbal guff currently available on all of the You-Toobs.

Don't listen to it kids. Or if you listen to it, don't hear it. It's wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. It doesn't even make sense. Love me for a reason, let that reason be love. What? I love apples cause apples I love. Fuck off.

Anyway, I digress..Women in my experience and according to all available data do not like sensitive men. It's a myth. It's like how you always put your best books on display when you have company and hide Jeremy Clarkson's autobiography in the boot of your car. You're trying to project a better image of yourself aren't you.

Women do not want men with intelligence, a good sense of humour or sensitivity. NO! They do not want the kind of "men" who feature heavily in TV shows like Dawson's Creek..where crying in public is the norm and constantly wanting to talk about feelings instead of football is acceptable. Guys who can never get a day's work done as they're forever busy trying to find themselves.

Women want men who are to all intents and purposes just apes only better looking. Preferably rich apes who'll treat them like shit. It's no coincidence that since this video was made half of Boyzone have admitted to being gay, and the other half didn't even have to. One even died of being gay didn't he? Literally died of cock! Urghh. See, what do they know about what women want eh? eh?

Men do this too of course. I've heard men claim they like women for who they are not what they look like. When in fact of course we all just want a woman with juicy jugs who is prepared to lick the inside of our arses and be a good sport and go home afterwards.

Women are the worst at this though. They lie. Don't listen to them kids. Don't be nice. Don't ever ever ever attempt to talk about your relationship or where it might be going. These are conversations to nowhere. They don't mean anything. If you even approach these subjects your girlfriend will fuck your more manly best friend before you've even finished the first sentence.

Also, don't revise for your exams and drink bleach it tastes just like pop.

Who says I have no paternal instincts. Father figure of the year trophy please. Now please, thank you I'm best.

Wass good about it?

So anyway yes,..according to the Gospels today 1978 years ago Jesus was crucified. There really is no need to go into why this clearly never happened (there weren't even any Carverys around in the olden days). Anyone who has read the gospels, which were written some four centuries after the event ought to be able to see this for himself given the inconsistencies.

This was clearly some myth, like most scripture, a ripped off version of some Pagan bollocks told to keep children terrified into being good or something. The simple arithmetic of the issue is that there was of course no need for God to sacrifice his own son to save us, because of course he can just sort out our evilness with some magic dust because he is both omnipotent and omniscient even though of course, this is impossible.

God was accepting people into heaven years before Christ was born so what changed? God manufactures a reason to nail his own son to a plank of 12 b 2 and for this we worship him and we eat chocolate eggs and we watch Ben-Hur. Gay.

And now even the proles are beginning to understand this is nonsense. The Christians made a big mistake when they translated the Bible into a plain English. The language of the King James Bible was putting people off as it was considered convoluted and unintelligible to the average member of the underclasses, but it was language that kept the utter shash behind this faith a secret. The language was the curtain that hid the wizard if will.

While people were reading the King James version, they were so focused on trying to understand each sentence, the thous and the doths and the yees and the yays, that their ickle brains couldn't also follow what was actually happening to a degree where the contradictions and nonsense in each silly chapter became clearly evident.

Now the international version has made it easier to read, but also easier to pick apart the bullshit like buffalo chicken wings. The absurdness of it all laid bare in plain English. By attempting to attract more bumpkins to their faith by offering their scripture in plain English, they've achieved the exact opposite because people can now read their scripture.

There still remains that hard-core minority though. People who will still insist that Jeebus did indeed die for our sins, which in fact weren't ours at all...and this volume of Chinese whispers is in fact worth killing and dieing for.

Well I'm sorry human race..but no. While this minority of loony-toons exists I'm afraid I can't take humanity seriously. If you're someone who doesn't take humanity seriously either and have chosen Christianity as a means of wasting your life as one nonsense calling is just as good as another, then I'm cool with that, but if you're one of the crazies who has Christianity on a pedestal and insists every other means of killing time until you die is wicked I'm afraid I find you quite abhorrent and while you exist I can never take us as a species seriously.

While there still exists many many deluded cwetins who genuinely believe there's a dude in the clouds who knows everything and controls everything and had his own son killed to save us, then I'm afraid Clark Kent will always be my God.

Clark is a nice boy. Yes he makes mistakes, and yes it has taken him nearly 5 full seasons just to get a snog off Lois, and yes his people have already destroyed one planet, but I still find his story rather more believable and inspiring than Jesus Christ's.

Having said all this, I reserve the right to enjoy yummy eggs. I've got a flake one and a Creme egg one this year. When you were a kid did you ever want a Creme Egg Easter egg that had the fondant in the middle too?

How cool would that be? Quickly sickly though. But still cool. I might look on the internets and see if you get them.

21 April 2011

Oh do naff orf

I've just now been hearing from a man in the garage that David Cameroon wants to put a stop to these judges granting injunctions and super injunctions to the rich celebrity types to prevent the media from sharing their sordid sexual perversions with their dwindling readerships.

Dave reckons these judges should naff off if they think they can create this secrecy law just to protect the rich and famous. It's our elected Parliament according to Dave that makes the laws, not judges.

Of course, he's conveniently forgetting here that it's no such thing. Our Parliament exists simply to receive EU laws and impose them on us without so much as a whimper from Dave.

He's as concerned with other bodies other than Parliament making laws as a well known golfer is about injuring his penis while enjoying his sordid fetishes in the bespoke dungeon of some foreign dominatrix.

And you can quote me.

20 April 2011


So apparently yes, the way to encourage a child is not to tell them they're awesome when they've done something that is in all demonstrable ways absolutely shite, it's to praise them for working hard. Assuming they've worked hard.

Instead of, "fuck my life you're a child prodigy son" when little Billy manages to accomplish something, it is better to simply acknowledge his hard work and remind him that this is indeed the key to happiness in life. Hard graft son. Obviously in reality it's every man for himself and we're all doomed, but they don't need to know that yet.

So anyway yes, this pleases me as I feel it vindicates me for insulting young Peter's painting of his family when I was a fifth year in comp and was helping out at a local Primary school on Wednesday afternoons either as part of my GCSEs or cause I'd been in trouble for something, I forget which.

I mention this because while I was at the Subway place earlier this evening there was an old woman making gargling noises at a woman's urchin which was sat in something more akin to an armoured vehicle than a buggy, certainly more robust than anything the British Army have been given to fight the Taliban with. It was an eight wheeler!

The urchins Mother was all smiles. The kid remained and appeared indifferent at best, scared at worst as this wrinkly old crone talked to it like it was a Cocker Spaniel; Oooohhs a good boy, you're a good boy coochy fucking coo.

You see now, the thing is I can't communicate with children in this patronising nonsense way. I've always wondered if this was because I was dead inside or because I just didn't want to condescend to them or anyone in this way.

I don't get the point. I understand the tone of voice is important, but why not still make sense and use actual words just in a pleasant tone of voice instead of just making noises. It's no wonder babies don't make any sense.

So back to young Peter. He's painted his family; his mum, his Dad, his brother and himself. I thought it was shit even for a six year old, he hadn't tried at all...but I thought I was diplomatic when he showed me and asked me what I thought.

You're Dad Pete, he's got nine fingers has he on his left hand? And only three on his right? And your mum, her legs are always this far apart are they? Peter just stared at me, as did his Guardian reading hummus eating sandal wearer of a teacher who was so translucent from a lack of red meat I could see through his chest and read the blackboard behind him which he had renamed the chalkboard so as not to offend the black children....of which there were none in the entire school. I wasn't invited back.

I maintain however, that if Peter is making his living today from portrait painting then he owes his living to me. If I hadn't been honest and pointed out to him that people don't have 12 fingers and certainly not nine on one hand, and that includes people from Bampton, he'd have given up painting before he had time to realise his full potential.

The point is this. I was questioning whether Peter had really thought his work through. Had he given is all? Or indeed, had he just thrown some paint about and given no consideration to how it looked or how deformed and hideous a representation of his family he was ready and willing to offer to his whole classroom?

I saved this child. Ergo I have saved the world. For our children are our future.

I am God.

Metaphor of the day

How the football Gods have treated my beloved Arsenal this season


Where Billy Batts is the Arsenal and Tommy and Jimmy are the Gods;

Punch in the face = Comedy defending costing us the game
Stamp on the head = Dropping points to useless opposition
Gun shot to the mouth = Conceding a 4-0 lead with 45 minutes left to play


Booing. What's it all about? We here at the blog find it curious that the media make such a big deal of thousands of grown men shouting boo as if it's the most traumatic experience. Poor Michael Owen subjected to boos from 55,000 Geordies. They didn't even mention the chants of "One greedy bastard."

When a player goes back to a former club they always ask whether he'll be able to cope with the boos. Usually it's a player who's had to listen to the most vile crap from opposing fans every day of his professional life. Stuff about his kids getting cancer or his wife being fucked by many many a dog's cock.

Presenter: Will he be able to cope with the boos?

Ex-Pro Pundit: Well he manages to ignore them when they're calling his wife a whore and all the times they've chanted about how his kids need stabbing so he should manage OK with the boos.

If booing was so disturbing we wouldn't take children to pantomimes. I'm afraid I just don't get it. Where does it come from. Grown men shouting boo with faces contorted with genuine rage and hatred. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO you absolute cunt, do you hear me? BOOOOOOOOOOOO.

It's the north London derby tonight. I should think there might be one or two boos this evening, but this won't be the reason I'm not watching it. I simply don't have the stomach for it. I'm not giving the Gods the satisfaction. If we're to lose I don't have to see it. I can ignore it. If we win I can watch a repeat and enjoy it just as much as if it were live.

The Gods have really gotten creative this year. We've lost a cup final in the last few minutes via comedy defending and most recently drawn a game we should have won by conceding a penalty in the 112th minute of a league game. Just what the Gods have got in store for Arsenal tonight I fear to even contemplate. I've got that horrible cold sweat around my balls even now as we speak.

19 April 2011

Gulp, no I don't

Regular readers of the blog will know how fascinated I am with supermarkets. Of course there is somewhat of a paradox with this intrigue. I don't frequent the Supermarkets very often because of all the people in them, yet it's the people who fascinate me so.

I like observing people's behaviour at the check-outs. A typical shopper seems to me to be very self-conscious about their purchases. Hiding the crappier goods beneath the healthier stuff and so on. While shoppers further back in the queue either try to piece together what kind of person they are or remain respectful and not look too intently at the goods laid out on the little conveyor belt.

I also take great delight in people who struggle to bag up their goods before the check-out lady has scanned it all. There's sometimes genuine panic that spreads across their face. Fucking brilliant. Why do people go to the cinema when they could go to the Co-op and watch people struggle to fit a family sized box of southern fried chicken into a plastic bag with some toilet roll.

I was able to avoid any privacy related shopping faux-pas this evening as the young miss in front of me had such a superb ass and so I focused on it completely instead of her shopping goods.

Now then people, over the years I've taken a lot of antibiotics and a lot of really good pain killers and none of them have made me feel as euphorically whoozy as a 'boiled eggs in a handkerchief' backside wrapped in tight denim.

I feared in fact that my body had released so many endorphins as I trained my eyes on it's firm rounded goodness that my eyes had turned into those sort of spirally eyes that occur in cartoons when someone gets hypnotised.

When it came time for me to pay for my own goods I had to take a good swallow before I was able to tell the check out lady I didn't have a members card elsewise I would have drowned her in my drool.

This is an example of some of the sorts of things that happen in my every day life that make people wish they were me.

Shoes made for walking free

Silly Andrew Ryan. As a member of the underclasses he won't have been aware that Ken Clarke will only allows Judges to dish out prison sentences for crimes in two categories; 1) the heinous child murdering type crimes that are front page news and 2) offending Muslims.

Unfortunately for young Ryan burning a copy of the Koran - a poor rip off of the Bible - is obviously rather offensive to Muslims. So off he will now go to jail for 70 days.

If only he had chosen instead to burn poppies on Remembrance Day like young Emdadur Choudhury who was able to escape with a £50 fine for his efforts which I'm sure he'll be able to afford once he's sued the Met Police for religious bigotry and received about £250,000 compensation.

Ken Clarke doesn't think prisons work see. He quite rightly points out the high re-offending numbers and therefore concludes that in the long term there is no purpose to simply warehousing criminals where they learn new and interesting skills from other criminals.

This is of course true. But then, if I thought the only punishment I might receive by robbing a post-office again having bungled my first effort an gotten caught was 18 months in what is essentially a bit of dirty budget hotel only slightly better as it will have free drugs and Sky TV, broadband internet and a pool table - I might re-offend too.

If however prisons were austere nasty places where you were fed and clothed and had a bed, but it was made perfectly clear to you that while you were there you had the right to breath and not be tortured, but that was about it, then you might think twice about whether you wanted to come back again.

Sadly we are of cause doomed. Crime is too much of a problem now. We now have generations in the underclasses who simply don't know how to behave, don't understand that crime is wrong. Ken Clarke's solution to tackle crime is simply to not make anything a criminal offense. Blame everything on deprivation. Insist that everyone is beautiful inside and we just need to help those poor souls find a place in society.

Meanwhile he lives happily in a community where the average house price is probably about £1m and he will continue to live some distance away from the problems he can afford to ignore. Not for long though. Let's see how he feels about crime the first time he finds an urchin in his living room rifling through his collection of jazz records.

18 April 2011

Road to nowhere

If you wanted to gauge how crap this country is now, just how utterly incapable it is of organising even the simplist piss up in the smallest brewery, one only has to recall how the Japanese re-built a couple miles stretch of a major highway in just six days after it was destroyed in a 9.0 scale earthquake.

In England however, a simple fire blazing away in close proximity to the M1 has shut a huge stretch of the road down since Saturday and shows no sign of opening. A man this morning did his fucking ironing on the southbound carriageway.

The Health and Safety executive weighed down by the burden of the European Union's lunacy is incapable of allowing anyone to do anything quickly in case something happens somewhere.

Children can't play conkers without sporting safety goggles, gauntlets and metal toe capped boots if the stampsies rule is in effect.

The consequences are of course that the strata of bureaucracy that make up the Highways Agency mean that a 48 page document has to be consulted when workers on site want to take a tea break. The document covers such crucial and dangerous tasks as stirrings tea, how to dunk biscuits safely and the health risks of a high sugar intake. There's a whole chapter specifically for diabetics.

While it's true the Japanese may indeed be from another planet and my granddad will never forgive them for their treatment in the second world war of our POWs and of course they do have that weird and frankly sickening obsession with schoolgirl raping lizard cartoon porn, but if I ever have the opportunity to leave this country before it collapses under the weight of it's own shitness, it's Japan I'll be heading for.

A school girl being raped by an alien lizard yesterday.
It's OK though, cause it's just a cartoon say Japan.

15 April 2011

What good is a phone call, when you are unable to speak?

Friday phew thank crunchy for that. I'm going to celebrate with cake. Before I do that however I'd like to declare this voting system referendum the winner of the blog's "Bollocks of the week award."

In many ways it reminds me of that scene in the Matrix where Neo who has grossly misunderstood how much of a bollocks world he's living in is told by the evil agent that his demand for a phone call would be pointless if he couldn't talk.

Let's ignore the fact that in other countries where a similar voting system to AV has been introduced the election results have been almost identical to how they would have been under a first past the post system...even if we had the perfect system that satisfied everyone's needs and wants, it's all irrelevant if the people we're electing are a)..utter utter sniveling liberal sandal wearing yoga enthusiasts with as much competence in running a nation as the Ku Klux Klan organising the MOBO's and b) completely subordinate to the European Parliament.

Our MPs have no law making powers. The Houses of Parliament are now just a place where people congregate to shout at each other and then retire to the bar for drinks at the Tax payers expense.

The only people who still think we have a functioning democracy are the proles Ed Miliband has been meeting this week. Unfortunately these people are such an enormous demographic that this sham of a democracy will continue for some time yet.

Eventually this will all come to an end. Incredibly violently, but it will come to an end. In the meantime we will just have to sit like Neo with our hands tied and our mouths effectivly glued up. I'm not sure I care. So long as I can eat cake I think I'm still fairing better than Neo. This is of course what they want me to think.

* * *

Sport now and it is of course a racing certainty that Andy Carroll will score against Arsenal on Sunday. As part of his psychological evaluation prior to joining Liverpool he may have listed as one of his weaknesses "My inability to not get in a fight at the weekend," but he can obviously play a bit and this does not bode well for Arsenal.

While it continues to be difficult for Carroll to not head butt a woman in a social environment the flip side of the coin is that he also remains one of the most devastating players in the Premier League in the air.

Conversely, Arsenal's defense fear crosses played into their box as if they were flaming meteorites of the type that destroyed Smallville when Kal-El came to Earth. So many times this season Arsene Wenger has had to coax his central defensive pair, embracing in fear, out from behind the advertising boards after conceding yet another soft goal from a corner.

I see no reason why this won't continue on Sunday and the 3.80 on Carroll scoring in 90 minutes seems like a gift from the punting Gods. I of course am cursed with the inability to bet against Arsenal so I will have to make my monies elsewhere but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it.

Flaming meteorite or speculative punt into the box, it's
all the same to
S├ębastien Squillaci and Laurent

14 April 2011


Season 9 of Smallville begins tonight in my little world. I'm a little bit worried about this as there's no more seasons to watch after this one. The final season which is of course season 10 hasn't finished airing in the US of States yet so it'll be November before it's available in these lands on the DVDs.

I could go back and watch it all again, but Clark and I have been through so much over the seasons I don't think I could bring myself to go through it all again. Not knowing as I now do that he never did get a blowie of Lana.

I'll have to worry about that when the time comes. In the meantime I just hope Lois who has gone missing, doesn't come back wearing loser less slutty stuff but indeed continues with those sort of funky PVC outfits she was wearing quite often in season 8 for quite tenuous reasons now I look back on it.

I hear Zod is to be introduced in this season. The most evilest man in the galaxies. Played by an English guy of course. What is it with Mercans and their perception of the English accent as the epitome of evil? Is that why it's so easy to get shags in America cause women get turned on by evil? I never thought of that before, I thought it was always just cause I had nice eyes.

In other news I can still hear that fly.

I almost very nearly convinced myself today to play the APAT Newcastle event next weekend. By my way of thinking this was only one of three events I can realistically play this season and I have some suspicions in the back of my head where I keep thoughts that only escape when I'm pissed, that this will be the last APAT season so maybe only one of three more chances to play an APAT event ever ever.

In the end geography won out. Not always my strong subject at school where I thought continents were just old men who had control of their bowels and bladder, I now know enough to figure out just how far away Newcastle is. Also given it's Easter the M1 will no doubt have over 40 million cars parked on it bumper to bumper so I'd have to leave tomorrow really to get there in time for the start of play.

I'm going to stay at home instead and eat easter eggs in a pair of grey jogging bottoms and not wash my hair that whole week. It's better this way.


Bzzzzzz. For the past few days I keep hearing the buzzing of a fly every hour or so when I'm sat in my living room. It's driving me mad. I can't find the pesky little critter. It sounds like it's coming from the window. I thought maybe it was trapped between the window and the net curtain but no. It's no where to be seen. It's like it's cloaked.

It's really loud. I can barely concentrate on eating cake sometimes. I'm worried it might be a killer African bee also. The kind of bee Vince Cable thinks has a perfect right to be hear and kill me. What's the life expectancy of blue bottles and killer bees? Will I still be sane or even alive by the time old age carries the thing off to insect heaven?


Has Vince Cable been checking the sell by date on his hummus? This weird and quite mad sandal wearing swinger claims that David Cameron's speech about mass immigration being a bad thing will risk inflaming extremism.

This is bullshit in many ways. First and foremost of course because David Cameron does not believe his own speech and would be quite happy to see the country over-run with as many urchins as possible from everywhere so long as they don't speak a word of English and have any intentions of paying tax.

But let's assume David Cameron was being sincere and take Vince Cable's criticisms at face value. Who cares if extremists are annoyed? They're extremists. By definition they're nutters, they get upset over things they shouldn't. they're always annoyed because you could never offer them everything they want to stop them whining and still have a country that would last five minutes without destroying itself.

If it was reasonable people getting upset and rioting in the street, if it was people who usually spend their afternoons watching Countdown or tackling tricky crosswords, then Cameron might have cause to think again, but if he's only upsetting extremists there's no problem.

Vince Cable is forgetting there are extremists on opposite sides of the crazy spectrum. We might have a troop of white hooded Klansman marching into the country gobbing tobaccy into spittoons and burning crosses if he made a speech explaining how Africans and Catholics are awesome and we should all have as many of both in our homes as we can safely house.

It's this almost phobic refusal to upset anyone, even absolute whackos, ..especially absolute whackos, that has tied this country into the social Gordian's knot it's in today. Where council leaflets have to be available in 130 languages to accommodate immigrants who would rather not adopt our language. Where pensioners can't display ornamental pigs on their window sills in case a misogynistic Muslim walks past and gets all uppity. Where criminals can't be treated as criminals in case their human rights are contravened and where businesses employing more than 20 people must have at least four openly homosexual vegans and at least one amputee on staff.

If we're at risk from extremist terrorism, and I assume we're talking about Islamic terrorism, then not delivering speeches on immigration will not make one jot of difference. Especially not while we continue to bomb Islamic countries arbitrarily and not while Islam is treated with such exaggerated levels of respect.

This is what happens when you put people in charge of the country who don't have any meat in their diet. People who think it's OK for women to have thick arm pit hair and to make love in front of their children. People who think absolutely everyone is equal in all demonstrable ways and anyone who doesn't think this way is simply narrow minded and delirious from the volume of undigested red meat inching it's way through miles of clogged intestines.

The country has many more things destroying it rather more efficiently than bombs on buses. Vince Cable for example. Twat.

13 April 2011

Raindrops on roses

"HAHA monkey boy." - Xavi Alonso speaks the truth earlier this evening

I'm laughing at Tottenham as we speak. I'm bound to be punished for any indulgence in schadenfreude, but I don't care. The Gods would find some reason to punish me next week when Arsenal play Totterington anyway so what the hell, that's what I always say.

It's interesting how Totterington's 6-0 aggregate shellacking at the hands of a comparatively ordinary Real Madrid side is still regarded as a "plucky effort from the North London outfit," where as Arsenal's 4-3 aggregate defeat at the hands of Barcelona, who most people seem to think are the best team ever to play the game, was somehow a sorry reflection on wannabe Arsenal's inability to perform at the highest level.

It's not that I'm bitter, I just think the world would just be a nicer place if White Hart Lane or indeed the entire N17 postcode was destroyed in a massive, but incredibly localised earthquake. Most of the place is boarded up anyway. It's the most awful slum. No wonder Spurs fans are so rotten inside having to spend so much time in such a depraved hovel.

Fraulein Maria in The Sound of Music remembered brown paper packages tied up with string when she felt sad..well me too. Only those packages in my reveries are packed full of Semtex and rusty nails and there's several of them hidden liberally beneath the seats of the Paxton Road end and North and West stands and they all go off as soon as their fans begin that bloody irritating nails-on-a-blackboard "When the Spurs go marching In" chant they sing really slowly.

Boarded up buildings, crap nightclubs and a shit football team. N17 yesterday

In other news, I'm moved on from biscuits to cakes now. If I had blotchy legs and owned six or seven cats I'd have to enter "female divorcee" on my census form I haven't completed yet. Once again however, I don't care. I like cake, especially cream and jam doughnut fingers and if anyone has a problem with that they can kiss my expanding ass which is starting to look like someone has tried to fit three eggs into two shells.

* * *

Finally, I was aroused today sexually by a strumpet to the extent that I actually groaned out loud at the thought of taking her over the jumps. I was in public too, I was able disguise it as a cough. But my full erection was there for all to see so in fact it was a fair cop when an old lady pointed at my groin and shook her head in a manner that expressed her disappointment in me.

I think it was Gillian Duffy actually. She's everywhere now. She's become a sort of Themis Goddess of Justice only with one of those sort of hessian shopping bags instead of scales.

I hope that's a banana - Gillian Duffy earlier today.

11 April 2011

Girl turns to the dark side

This is the most beautiful devotion to evil I have ever seen.

Veil ban

It's not often I have anything nice to say about the French what with the they way they've always put me in jail whenever I go there and how they don't have proper toilets still, but today is one of those rare occasions.

The French Government's ban on wearing the veil or Burkha begins today. I think it's daft how some sections of the media describe this as "imposing a ban" on the veil. They're not imposing a ban, they're attempting to lift one.

They're attempting to liberate women from the oppressive obligations of the Muslim faith. A faith that teaches them from birth they are inferior to men and essentially everything they do must be at the behest of the male members of their family or some lunatic cleric who gets to use Islam as a means of imposing his creepy and violent misogyny on the women in his community.

Religious beliefs can never be imposed on people in the same way that Governments impose laws. Everyone in France is equal before the law. The Islamic faith is asking France to ignore a centuries old tradition to accommodate the misogyny of one faith. That of course is utter bullshit.

Women do not wear burkha's or veils voluntarily. If they did women of other faiths would wear them. The extreme modesty that causes women to supposedly wear these things "voluntarily" comes from being taught from birth they are inferior. A woman not raised in a Muslim community simply would not have that mindset. This is not the same modesty that causes larger ladies to refrain from wearing stripes.

It's regrettable that a Government has to intervene in this way, but in the interests of liberty and transparency it has become necessary. If religions didn't make demands of people in this way, with such medieval punishments for non-compliance, this intervention would not be necessary, but it is. Laws of this ilk are quite literally the lesser of two evils.

10 April 2011

Icelandic repayment plan up in smoke

I think I've got this right. A bunch of British people invest their monies in Icelandic banks because they're offering really really high-interest rates. Only these banks then go bust because in monetary terms what they were offering was a total shower of unsustainable shit.

The UK Government under pressure from these greedy bastards who've lost all their money decide to recompense them with a view to claiming the money back at a later date from the Icelandic Government.

Unfortunately these were private banks and the Icelandic Government has taken the opinion that's it's fuck all to do with them. They hold a referendum to ask the Icelandic people if they'd like to cough up the money these private banks owe UK customers.

They voted no. They say collectively that they'd rather not fork out billions of pounds for something that in fact is nothing to do with them.

The treasury accepts that the Icelandic Government is under no obligation whatsoever to underwrite the debts of a private bank, but explained they were sort of hoping they'd just pay up anyway.

9 April 2011


So right, I gets up today about 1:30pm and I mooch about a bit. I ate a banana and placed a few wagers then I grew tired so I lay on my sofa and that was it..I woke up about half an hour ago which in real terms was 10pm!

I missed all the good weather. I was going to go out and absorb some vitamin D and stare at smooth shiny legs and everything, but instead I just slept and had funny dreams about a really aggressive Irish bloke who wouldn't sell me any of his potatoes.

I bet it rains tomorrow. This is how I roll recently. The poker Gods are never satisfied unless they're breaking my very soul and now the weather Gods have me in the crosshairs too.

Still you've got to laugh.

Golf n' Stuff

Has Tiger Woods been getting his "medicine?" I haven't watched too much of the Golf as I just can't bring myself to enjoy the game, however I did see the last few holes of Tiger Woods' round last night and I thought I detected a hint of nasty in his eye.

Indeed it's quite possible that he has put the trials and tribulations of the past year behind him and is once again enjoying violent sex with prostitutes on a regular basis. Only time will tell of course. If after today he's in the top 5 of the leader board I think we can assume he's back in the rough as it were.

Elsewhere in the sporting world it is of course the Grand National today and I was able to get on Quinz at 21.0 a few days ago as it seemed like the thing to do. It was a complete guess but subsequent research has shown we have a good to firm chance of our horse becoming wheezy 5 out and collapsing soon after.

I've felt for some time now, at least since Thursday afternoon that Totternumb were a lay this weekend against the mighty Stoke. There's some disquiet in the camp, they're all knackered after their slaughtering in Madrid and Harry Redknapp's twitch now has apparently become uncontrollable. Indeed he was unable to give a team talk yesterday because of it.

I've also backed Milton Keynes Dons as I've never done that before and finally I've had a few quid on Stromsgodset to beat Odd Grenland in the Norwegian league.

7 April 2011

"Chant just incredibly offensive not racist" claim Spurs fans

Tottenham fans have been accused of racism by Emmanuel Adebayor (who always scores against them) because they are racists but also because of chants aimed at him during their humiliation at the Bernabeu on Tuesday night.

"Your dad washes elephants and your mum is whore" is incredibly offensive explained Spurs fan Ben Fleishman Cohen Goldberg, "yes, of course it is, but it's not racist therefore he can't really complain can he."

However, everyone else asked to comment disagreed, "Well it is sort of racist isn't it the way it implies all Africans live in a primitive environment side by side with wild animal.

"Although I suppose the part about his mother being a whore isn't racist, just really really offensive so they should have said that part twice or something."

UEFA spokesman Klaus Eichmann explained in a statement, "we cannot condone racism, all other forms of vile verbal abuse however appear to be perfectly acceptable some how. So in the future perhaps Tottenham's fans might suggest Emmanuel Adebayor's father likes to make love to other men instead. Be creative the way they were with Sol Campbell."

Spurs fans accuse Sol Campbell of a treachery akin to the betrayal of Jesus
Christ saviour of the Jews rather than resorting to convenient racial slurs

4 April 2011

Jolly good show old man

I enjoy a good bit of needle in sports don't you? Here we have young Casey Stoner applauding Valentino Rossi for taking him out of the race with a somewhat aggressive over-taking manoeuvre.

Valentino of course won't give a shit as he's been doing that sort of thing his whole career and he's a nine times champion and has come as close as you can get really to being bigger than the sport.

To be fair and in real terms it was the marshals anyway who were at fault as they all rushed to help Valentino Rossi get back on his bike and totally ignored Stoner, which was funny or taking the piss depending on which camp you eat your beans.

Still, good stuff. I feel frustrating that Japan went and had an earthquake so we now have to wait for Portugal in a month's time for the next race by which time they may have calmed down a bit. Hopefully the racing media can keep the fire stoked until then.

I'm awesome now

A man in a shop told me the left side of the brain controls things like logic and analysis so I spent some time this weekend rubbing a special ointment into the left side of my head and I also poured some Lucozade into my left ear in order to increase the analytical capability of my brain.

I think it's working because I actually got the answer to the Richard Wiseman Friday puzzle and I'm usually no good at this kind of puzzle:

Imagine a monastery in which ten of the monks may have a disease which causes them to have blue spots on their foreheads but has no other symptoms. All the monks have taken a vow of silence, they meet just once a day, and there are no mirrors in the monastery, so nobody knows whether he has a blue spot on his forehead or not.

If a monk discovers that he has a blue spot on his forehead, he will have to leave the monastery by the end of the day. All the monks are perfect logicians – that is, they can instantly infer all the logical consequences of any statement made to them – and they all know that all the other monks are perfect logicians.

One day, the Guru, who is known to be truthful, gathers all the monks together and announces “At least one monk in this monastery has a blue spot on his forehead.” Nothing happens for nine days, but on the tenth day, all the monks with blue spots leave.

How many monks left and why?