Cobra lager

Have you seen this advert for Indian Cobra beer? It is so wrong one wonder's if it isn't a genius example of a country playing a practical joke on unsuspecting possible tourists. I can just hear the sandal wearing hummus eating men in civil partnerships in North London as we speak.."Julius!! lovey come and look, we should go to India and ride this train, it's captured my soul."

I've seen Indian trains on the telly on those documentaries usually involving Paul Merton or possibly Anne Widdecombe. Certainly someone incredibly irritating. Travel on a real Indian train is almost like climbing (alive) into a coffin in a crematorium. Usually only 5% of passengers and only 3% of all monkeys make it to their destination alive!

It's essentially a steel box basted with monkey ejaculations and rabies that has been cooking in 65˚C (149˚F) heat for eight hours while approximately six hundred children and astonishingly old men some how sleep on the white hot roof.

In fact the chicken Dupiaza is rumoured to be inspired by the remains of the wildlife and passengers who oozed out of the Bombay to Bhusawal train in 1957 which had been delayed for some time in the middle of a summer commute, roasting those trapped inside to death and feeding those on the roof for several months.

Very rarely, almost never, in fact yes, never, does a man casually stroll down the central aisle of the train handing out ice cold bottles of lager to the tired thirsty chilled out commuters as the train lazily snakes its way through the beautiful Indian landscape as the baking sun begins to set.

Plus alcohol is banned on trains in India I think.

Minute's applause?

Liverpool observe a minutes applause for a Stuart Downing's

mother who passed her driving test at the 5th time of asking yesterday

Not sure about the "minutes applause" for Fabric Muamba this evening if the truth be told. Bit much. And these floral tributes for him. We have a minutes applause in football to pay our respects to someone who has recently passed away only because the nuggets on the terraces can't be trusted to observe a whole minute in silence as is the etiquette in the civilised world. So would we have a minutes silence for Fabrice tonight if the fans could behave? No of course not as that would be entirely inappropriate.

It's also a celebration of a life true, but the fella is not dead. His condition is obviously very serious and his brain having been starved of oxygen for about an hour and fifteen minutes means his quality of life will now be seriously compromised so it's being presumed his playing career is over, but there's more to life than football.

I think this ceremony of getting players together in the centre circle and calling for a minute's applause should be restricted to paying respects for the dead and only the single weekend after his passing as opposed to the three or weeks clubs were still holding ceremonies for Gary Speed. Otherwise how do you decide what does and doesn't and who does and who doesn't deserve this mark of respect?

The people of Liverpool won't be able to get a game on for all the time they spend paying their respects to dead people and people who have had a tough time of it. There are other ways to encourage Fabrice Muama. This is too much. I blame Princess Diana.

Enough to make you weep

What is this? What is it? Is this really Great Britain's Olympic team's kit? Where the Union flag is different colours to the actual flag that ought to be flying probably everywhere for the three weeks the games are held in the summer?

This is what happens when you let a flowery sandal wearing leftie anywhere near an event of nation importance. These people have no concept of history. No understanding of the importance and relevance of the symbols that represent our heritage and the history behind our national identity.

You can't just change the colour of a flag because it looks nicer. Just ask Holland. A St George's cross that is blue is no longer a St George's Cross. Because a St George's cross is red. Similarly..you can't change the St Patrick's saltire to blue either for the same reasons.

If you can change the colours you can change the whole thing. If you're going to have the flag on the kit then have it in the correct form other wise it means nothing. Who signed off on this? Why was Stelle MacCartney allowed anywhere near this?

Is this some sort of statement of colonial guilt? It really would not surprise me. Or something to do with not wishing to appear too BNP-ish? If we can't display the Union flag on the kit of the Great British team during the Olympics that are held in London then we really have sold our identity down the river.

Fortunately for me as a Russian I don't have to worry about this sort of thing. Political correctness in Russia is as likely to overwhelm the nation as overt homosexuality in Australia.

A plane has plummeted towards the sea causing panic

From what one can make out from the headline and sub-head and caption and first paragraph of the this article on the Guardian website it looks like a plane has plummeted towards the sea and caused panic amongst the Air France plane who thought they were going to die.

It's hard to make out what this story is about from the headline and the sub-headline and the photograph caption and the first paragraph of this story. But I think a plane has plummeted towards the sea causing panic amongst the passengers.

Blood in your poo

Have you seen these NHS bowel cancer awareness announcements? Why did they select "poo" as their term for our...our poo? That's not the medical term now is it? Have the BMA dumbed down their language to attract thicker students to the extent that faeces are called poo now? They call them stools at my CF clinic.

I can't take it seriously. I couldn't not laugh if my GP used the word poo either. It's wrong. Poo is one of the funniest words in the English language. Always will be. Is the penis now going to be the "willy"?

Is the vagina going to be referred to as the "fanny"? Do you experience itching sensations in your fanny? Is caked in something akin to cottage cheese? Go and see your GP then you dirty bird.

I fancy the average male with bloody poo will not be encouraged to see his GP as a consequence of these announcements.

The German Masters

An artist's impression of the German snooker masters, yesterday

I get very nervous when I see the words German and Masters in the same sentence. So when I saw that German Masters were being broadcast yesterday I was relieved to find it was on Eurosport not Sky News or something. However, I know on this occasion it's only snooker, but I'm worried it might give them ideas. You know deep down they're itching to try again.

As I know nothing about snooker I have not wagered any monies on this tournament. I will however will be attempting the bag of sand challenge again tomorrow. I have to say that having consulted the Premier League Gods on numerous occasions this week, I received very little information. Just grunts and mumbles. At one point I thought I must surely have consulted the Gods of Nookie instead by accident.

However, in hindsight I think I was being told that nothing spectacular is going to occur this weekend. Generally I think we can just bet the home teams or the heavy favourites. I fancy I'll place one of those enormous Goliath wagers and ultimately enjoy a return so vast that we could stitch together a Onsie made of £50 notes.

**Changed my mind..I'm backing mostly away teams. And why not?

Winter

An English squirrel outside without a proper coat and nutless, yesterday.

One of my onesies arrived. It's still unconfirmed at this early stage, but I think it's the best thing I own. I shouldn't think I'll wear anything else from now on to be fair.

Especially as winter has now arrived, which of course will mean the country will grind to a halt because of unprecedented temperatures and conditions.

This is now inexcusable. Even our wildlife go unprepared. I see pictures from eastern Europe of cities under ten feet of snow and thick ice covering cars, but the public transportation system remains in operation and the squirrels are perfectly warm and their supply of nuts plentiful.

The excuse given here is that those places are accustomed to such weather and are therefore better prepared. This is of course horse shit. Every year now in this country the temperature drops to -15 or some such silly depths. Every year we get huge lumps of snow dropping on us. It can't still be unprecedented.

If you haven't got chains for your tyres. If you don't keep emergency stuff in your car like a torch, water, blankets, travel connect 4 etc then I'm afraid you deserve to get stuck for 24 hours in your car with no one but a really loud undisciplined child for company.

And if the people from West Oxfordshire District Council read my blog...you better clear the roads between my place and the Three Pigeons at least every other Sunday else wise you'll be receiving an uncompromising email from me and you don't want that.

A steam train in Germany that works regardless

of which kind of snow falls on the line, yesterday.

Anton Ferdinand unhurt by bullet sent in post

Anton's Postman yesterday.

Anton Ferdinand has apparently escaped unscathed after receiving a bullet in the second class post. The round was sent by what police assume to be a racist Chelsea fan (as opposed what other kind of Chelsea fan I'm not sure) last Saturday, reaching the QPR defender late Tuesday afternoon.

Personally I think it's much more likely to have been sent by a disgruntled QPR fan who has to watch his team's defence let in five or six goals every saturday afternoon, but let's not navel-gaze..

Now I'm no assassin, but if I wanted someone dead I'd fire a bullet at them with a gun, I wouldn't send it to them in the mail. By sending this cartridge by second class post the sender has chosen to deliver it in the absolute slowest and least lethal means possible.

Indeed, throwing the bullet at Ferdinand from the terraces would have more success at causing an injury. But by mailing it it will have slipped into the palm of his hand from the envelope at a speed of approximately 3mph.

It's pathetic. I really weep for the future of London's gangsters. Whatever happened to the helcyon days of gunning people down in the street outside pubs with sinister sounding names. Ronnie and Reggie will be turning in their graves.

A street outside a pub where people should

be gunned down properly, yesterday

Saturday's now then..

A Big Mac yesterday

Do you remember Tinita Tikaram? She works at my local McDonalds now. How weird is that? What a come down; from pop star to Big Mac putter-togetherer. That's a twist in one's sobriety if ever I saw one.

Her real name is Karen too. I suppose Karen Tikaram isn't very marketable. I assume it was her anyway. If it wasn't her it certainly looked like her.

I'll be betting today mostly on a Manchester United, Sunderland and Newcastle victories. And why not?

FA calls for "absolute bedlam" amongst calls for calm

How everyone wants it to go off, tomorrow

A spokesman from the FA would have emailed me today if I knew one to clarify that while they are all officially calling for calm ahead of Saturday's FA cup confrontation between Liverpool and Manchester United, between themselves they are hoping for something akin to world war III.

"We hope it goes off good style," he would have explained. "While officially we couldn't obviously say so, everyone in the office, like everyone in the country, is hoping it all goes off like a fucking firework."

"What we'd ideally like," the man called Tony would have said, "is for something like a chest high challenge to come in from Steven Gerrard on Patrice Evra. Not something fierce enough to kill him, but enough to break three of four ribs, and that be it..the benches clear, the fans plough towards each other and then suddenly everyone in Liverpool and everyone in Manchester steals each other's cars and heads to a meeting point somewhere in a service station car park on the M62 and the fucking apocalypse begins."

"We don't want this to be racial though," he would have been at pains to point out. "There's no place for prejudice in this day and age. Some of my best mates have got coloureds as friends. It's sad really that people are still so bigoted in this day and age."

What we're all hoping for tomorrow. yesterday.

Disaster

The loungewear Gods have forsaken me. My awesome onesie arrived today, but it's too small!! Never before in the history of shopping has something been too small for me. I've had to ship it back to the Netherlands. I might not get it's replacement until next week now.

I don't think any amount of trifle eaten from between Kirsty Youngs still remarkably pert breasts could ease my sorrow. I won't know for sure until I try of course. Let me get my spoon.

Harry Redknapp struggles in tax evasion court case

I'm here live at Harry's court case and not in my living room. I'm not allowed to take pictures and I forgot to bring my crayons, so bear with me. I'll think of something...

2:43pm Question: My Redknapp how many undeclared off-shore accounts did you keep during the period in question?

Answer: Er..just the one your honour, sir, M'lud, just the one.

Question: Just the one?

Answer: Er...actually come to fink of it, two actually M'lady. Yeah, two as a matter of fact sir.

Question: You had two off-shore accounts? No more?

Answer: Erm..oooh OFF-shore accounts. Oh I 'ad three of those. Yeah sorry I had three of 'em.

Question: You had in fact three off-shore accounts during this period?

Answer: Which period? Oh you mean when I wasn't paying even a single penny of tax? Ooh sorry your honour, I'm knackered, it's been a long season hahaha..no sorry. During that period I actually had four accounts which were "off-shore." Ha, I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on. Hahaha. Lovely, cheers, can I go now?

Question: Not just yet, so to clarify, there were four off-shore accounts in your name during the period in question?

Answer: In who's name? Mine? During the period when I wasn't paying tax?? No Captain, no...I had five at that time in MY name. Sorry I didn't realise you meant in my name.

Question: So that's five in your name, how many not in your name?

Answer: Ohh fuck it!

Couple of issues

"limp, raise, re-raise, call!! It makes no sense Professor Yaffle"

Firstly people, I did not win the Pigeons game and some of the hands will take between 3-6 months for me to understand. All the information has been sent to the lab boys who have begun punching in the numbers already. They say it could be September before any sort of sense is made from them!

Secondly, I take an interest in my blog stats. I like to know where my readers are from and how they found my blog. Everyone's welcome of course except anyone from Paris or Argentina (keep your mitts off our Islands you cheeky thieving bastardos) and of course except for the sick fuck from Washington State, USofA (nothing you seek on the internets is anonymous you dirty old bastard) who found my blog with a Google search "School girl rape cartoon."

Obviously you were looking for oodles of Japanese cartoons depicting the molestation and rape of children. You probably think it's OK as they're cartoons and not real people. And there's some logic in that. However, cartoons or not, you get off on the idea of small children being raped, which means you need locking up.

Incidentally, for everyone else, the reason this person found my blog with that search is because of this blog entry from April last year about how shit our infrastructure is - HERE

So anyway, if you are to visit me here at my blog, please can you not be a horrible sexual criminal.

Saturday morning guff

It's a chum's 50th birthday today. He owns a pub. That's basically the best thing ever..someone who wants to celebrate AND owns a pub. Every part of my spirit wants to be there. The important part of me however, the corporeal physical part of me, that would get my spirit to the pub, is being kept rooted to my sofa by what feels like an intensity of gravity found on Jupiter.

Never before have I been literally torn apart by the appeal of going out to a pub for a birthday celebration and lying on my sofa in my pyjamas eating crisps. And of course when I say literally I mean not literally at all. The exact opposite in fact. The plan as we speak is to go in my pyjamas, say hello, then come home again. I could be back on my sofa within twenty eight minutes.

In other news, I've still never been able to solve that solitaire game. I keep it in my toilet and I've had a lot of poos this week as I'm on some wicked strength antibiotics as we speak and I just can't get it.

You've got to clear one section at a time, but I can't figure out the order. I do not have the brain for this kind of stuff.

I have the sort of brain that can figure out how to insult some one on demand, but analytical stuff is beyond me.

I'm going to bet on something now. What are you doing? Is it cold out?

Weekend wagering

"White Hart Lane. You will never find a more wretched

hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."

I had something to say tonight about something, but I've changed my mind. The way I see it, who gives a fuck? I think I'll talk about betting instead as there might be some funny comings and goings this weekend and then I really must have some cake.

I'd quite like lay Manchester City this weekend if the truth be told. I fancy Manchester City will lose to Sperth, but they certainly won't win the game. But as you're aware, I can't be offering up this wager.

The thing of course we all have to remember about Tottenham and everything associated with it, is that it is inherently foul. Nothing good can come from it. Money won through the success of Tottenham is tainted. It's a little bit worse than making money from children to wealthy celebrities.

Imagine winning £2,000 because Tottenham won. What are you going to do with that money? You may as well burn it. All is not lost however. I'd like to back Arsenal too, but I can't bet on my own team. I can however bet on Wigan to beat QPR. And I can also lay Chelsea. And because I feel like it I can lay Liverpool too. And why not? You're only young once.

What are you doing this weekend anything nice? Good luck with all your bets.

Gah

This is Darren. He's the TV license inspector man who's been writing to me these past eight months or so. I have to admit, I haven't read his letters.

He didn't like me taking this picture of him for some reason. Possibly because he's worried some people he knows might find out what he does for a living. Because as we all know, it is possibly to die of shame. It's why there's no old people on regional radio stations.

So anyway, I'm home from the big house. It's not gone well to be fair and this was the last thing I needed. What I wanted was a meatball sammich and a since snooze. I got a TV license poker abouter instead.

He probably thought I couldn't talk cause I felt guilty. No..the joke was on him. I was just trying not to wet myself from fatigue. Joke's on you you silly coont.

Anyway, I don't have a TV, but that still isn't good enough for them. "I'll put you down for a visit this time next sir OK?" says Darren. Ha..you do that fella. It won't be me that answers the door. Hee Hee. Oh, fook.

The Iron Lady

Load of bollocks. This has nothing to do with Margaret Thatcher's political career. This film is about gawping at someone who is losing their mind to dementia. We show sufferers of mental health conditions no sensitivity whatsoever in our society and it's even worse if you happen to have been a very powerful political figure for twenty years.

Margaret Thatcher's career was controversial enough without having to resort to dramatising her losing her mind just to sell cinema tickets. To make a film like this when she is still alive too is brutally insensitive.

Anyone suffering from dementia or knowing someone with dementia will be appalled by this film ..even sandal wearing lefties who suffered from her policies. This is just a voyeuristic invasive snooping into the life of someone suffering from a humiliating condition.

The two bags of sand challenge

So after the success of last week, we're getting cocky this week. From a £100 stake we're going to attempt something never before attempted over a weekend in my betting career. And if we're successful, I'm going to spend these monies in a way that will get me in the papers. Or I might buy a lot of cake.

Th strategy is just to pick our bets wildly and without any research. This is not a time for thinking. Instinct and blind luck will see us through. So with this in mind, here's what we need to happen.

HT/FT doubles! Doubles you say!! Oh yes, I like these bets. Much in the same way people like Crystal Meth. One team to be winning at HT but eventually losing the game. Usually the home team is about 25/1 and the way team 33/1 with your high street bookies. So if you land a double with a £1 stake you're about £5-600 up.

Obviously these results are rare so just hitting one is a great days work, hitting two together is crazy talk. Well I'm all for crazy talk. So, the games we've picked out to land this Unicorn of double wagers are as follows; Swansea v Arsenal, Liverpool v Stoke and West Brom v Norwich.

So this is twelve £1 bets and is worth cazillions if all three of these of these games have different winners after each half. Something like £6,500. If that comes in, if you want me next week you'll find me underneath a pile of £50 notes in my living room.

Back in the real world I've placed an intriguing accumulator. We will need Villa, Fulham, N'awlins (-3.5) and the 'ammers to win to enjoy a £500 return on this wager.

Finally we have a Brentford, MK Dons and Oxford trixie.

If anything comes back from that we'll begin the challenge again on Sunday. And why not?

Stuff of the week

Now then...not had much to say recently and for that I apologise. I know most of the English speaking world reads my blog and looks to me for leadership in these austere times. But there's been a reason for my absence and I shall have to ask you to forgive me.

I've not had much to say, but something's about to come out accompanied by spit and phlegm so put on a clean suit of oilskins and Sou'wester and take heed ye olde bastards. Take heed. Haa haargh.

As you can tell I've been reading stories about pirates this evening. And when I get like that, I go through changes. I'll try and remain on topic as much as possible however.

So as well as reading about pirates I was also able to make a social faux pas tonight. I think the odds of my delivering this particular inadvertent boo-boo must have been trading at 999.0 on Betfair around 6pm so I hope you were on.

A chum who I have not seen for at least five years came over. Her husband is unwell and I wanted to ask her some questions about how they are dealing with it. She was always very particular about what she ate, so straight away I ask her if she felt there was likely to be anything in my house that her immune system would tolerate her eating or drinking.

As we sat talking and catching up and while she sipped her tea without milk or sugar, she revealed she had Crohns disease - a condition I'm still ignorant about, but which I think is an immune system issue focused around the bowels. D'oh!

If a book needs to be written on putting your foot in it, I'll do it. I'll do it tonight. I've got the time.

Speaking of books, I also finished reading David Copperfield a couple of nights ago. Took me as long to read it as it did to write it I think. Actually given that it's autobiographical it almost took me as long to read it as live it.

Was he gay then or not? He spent a lot of time admiring Steerforth and for heavens sake with the comments about Traddles' hair. I wonder how different the book would have been had it been written today when cottaging was not illegal?

Yesterday I bought stuff. I received a new iPhone. This thing is absolutely superfluous to all my needs. But it is snazzy. I got the glass one for the hell of it. It'll mean I'll actually have to go outside though so people can see me using it.

The Siri guy cannot understand a fucking word I say though. I'm too chesty. I'll ask it if it's raining outside and it'll phone my Nan. It just keeps calling a bunch of numbers no matter what I say to it. I don't like his voice either. He's like a continuity announcer. I wanted Jennifer Agutter. Can you change the voice?

In other news I actually succeeded with the bag of sand challenge last weekend. I won £1,192 from a £50 starting stake. I think that's only the second time I've ever completed it. And that was one weekend too, usually I give myself a week.

I'm finding it quite tricky to think of things to buy. I'm actually thinking of getting a house keeper. Just for a few weeks or so so I can say I have staff. I want someone 'umble who'll call me Master and go home of an evening with my poo under her finger nails. But back to this house keeper thing; I just think I could do with one.

I took a quick look at the real world recently. I see we're all still doomed and it's every man for himself. Good luck every one.

What treaty?

"LOOK A BIRD": Cameron trying to distract our attention away from the

fact this treaty he's saved us from doesn't actually exist, yesterday.

Has anyone seen this treaty Cameron has vetoed? Has anyone read it? Can it be found online? Or in fact does it not actually exist? What a cunt.