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.

Now then

I've heard tell of a Pigeons game this evening. I suspect I may have to play. If I have to play in my pyjamas so be it. I had planned to watch the NFL championship games - which is obviously code for having a six hour snooze - but I really feel I've got to go outside.

If I breath the air of my home for too long it can cause problems far worse than hypoxia. And I don't wear my war face soon I may never wear it again.

Obviously as far as the NFL goes, the Baltimore Ravens will win as will the NY Giants. So lump on a Patriots/49ers double.

I'm not watching Arsenal. I felt a disturbance in the force so I suspect they're losing and I don't need to see it. I'm going to watch Zulu instead to get me in the mood for poker.

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.