Ad free and trumpet blowing.

This blog has rid its self of the unwanted corporate sponsors; well actually I've paid for them to go away. This is now officially a fair trade blog. To go with the new neater top end I've made another change. Weather pixie has been sacked, she was crap at predicting the weather and she dumped a cookie on everyones puter. In her place is a little trumpet blowing, the list of my favourite posts has been stuck down there. Hopefully over the next twelve months I can add to it. When I get time I'm going to add a section for my favourite posts from other blogs, although it will probably get very big very quickly. Hmm, pop-up window may work.......

I have been living up to the tealeaf part of the title over the weekend, going mad on Kazaa. I need 650 meg by tonight, so I can burn it all to a cd and take it to work. Just another 45 meg to go.

Sunday, mothering Sunday.

I did the usual, sent flowers and a card; we spoke yesterday on the phone. It's sickeningly normal, and I'm really happy. The taxdodger sent flowers to Tracy, the card hasn't arrived yet. When I finally disconnect he may well speak to her on the phone................. we really do turn into our parents don't we ?

I was going to post about the conflict on foreign soil, then after a few sentences of clichés you would discover that I was referring to yesterdays football match. I didn't do it for two reasons. Firstly, there have already been too many deaths and it would have been remiss of me to make light of it. Secondly, I'm sick to fucking death of hearing about it from a biased and jingoist media. The sooner it ends the better for everyone.

Bluetealeaf is one today.

The earth has traveled more than 940 million kilometers since I started my inane jottings, I think it’s way overdue a service. To mark the occasion I have sifted through various layers of this festering bucket of mental slop and come up with my favourite posts. Think of it like an end of series clip show, where the stars have all buggered off on holiday and left some poor sap to bring the curtain down. Or, actually, take it for what it is, a cop out post by a blogger who ran out of originality a few months ago, but thought he’d try and blag it till the end of March. Right, here you are then.

Call centres.

Rant.

The grassy knoll.

My two penneth.

Trifle inspectors ?

Who says ?

Bastard cushions !

Ten point plan.

Supermarket stress.

Back to school.

Today I registered for the Open University, I am now officially an undergraduate. I will have to start wearing baggy clothes and paying for everything by cheque. My first course starts in about six weeks, so I have a little time to adjust to my new lifestyle…….right, where’s the nearest bar ?

The dangling conversation.

This took place today at the shop, between me (M) and a customer (C).

C: (standing next to about 400 ps1 games) Do you sell ps1 games ?
M: Yeah, right there mate. (pointing six inches to his right).
C: Oh, right, are they all £7 ?
M: They're all different prices, the price is on the price tag.
C: Oh, right, have you got any posters ?
M: Yeah, 50p each.
C: have you got any man united ?
M: No mate, just games posters !
C: Ok, I'll come back when I've got some money.
M:  ...............

There's never a big stick around when you need one. Is it too much to ask of someone to actually take note of their surroundings, these people can all walk, breathe and eat a Greggs pasty at the same time without dying.

If I hear one more person refer to the armed forces as "our boys" I'm going to fucking lose it. With hindsight it isn't the best frame of mind for someone serving behind the counter of a shop called lock&load, opposite an Army recruiting office. The scary thing is........the army do a roaring trade, and they usually fall into the same catagory as the aforementioned customer. I was going to insert a transcript of Bill Hicks "what does G12 do Tommy ?" but it doesn't do it justice. Fire up Kazaa and download "the Persian gulf distraction".

Petrol head !

I'm not usually into motorbikes, but..........you have got to check out this. I want one right now.

Have you been here before ?

Because I don't believe in god, it sort of excludes a lot of other stuff as well. For instance, re-incarnation, it just doesn't make sense. I know that there's lots of anecdotal evidence, I've read most of it. But when it comes down to bare facts there are none. An explanation could be racial memory, memories passed down from your ancestors. It also explains deja vous, the feeling you have been somewhere before could be a memory from one of your forebears. If there were some way for important lessons that one of your ancestors learned to be passed on to you, maybe in your DNA, it would help his or her bloodline to prosper. It's survival of the fittest; any advantage you can give to your offspring helps you achieve immortality. When it comes down to it, that's all that re-incarnation offers, a way to live forever. A nasty lie told to us by religious people to make us behave ourselves, the ultimate prize obviously is to cheat death. I'll put my faith in science, and if the chance to undergo hypnotic regression ever presents itself then I'll grab it. I'd love to see what my ancestors saw. What about you ?

Change of heart.

Next Friday sees the first anniversary of the inception of this desultory philippic. Fuck me it's passed quick ! Lots of water under numerous bridges. So twelve months on am I a different person ? Certainly the political happenings over the last couple of months have changed me, but fundamentally am I different for sharing all the stuff that I have since last March ? Probably not, just older and wiser. Wiser in that I now know that all these feelings of rage/helplessness/apathy/love/hatred/hunger/........ are not just limited to me and my little world. I do feel part of a larger community, but I also feel isolated and it's not a bad thing for me......... I don't normally wear my heart on my sleeve. About three months ago I considered making next Fridays post the last one, just a twelve-month thing. I was thinking about how things go stale and how people need to move on to new things and new ways of pushing the boundaries. I have changed my mind, for better or worse, because in essence this is a diary even though I don't want it to be. Diaries are the stories of our lives, and as such can only go stale if we do. I don't feel stale, well maybe a little in the mornings but a cup of coffee sorts that out. I'm going to keep going, let's face it...it's not hard work. Mind you, I have sat here staring at the little curser blinking and realised why it's called a curser, some of the profanity it has put up with would make a fishwife blush. Those posts, the ones where I've sat waiting for inspiration are the worst ones. Too much thought can spoil a post, just do it, as long as it makes sense to you then it's probably ok. A long time ago I read "On the road" by Jack Kerouac, and my attempts at stream of consciousness posts have fell way short of how it should be done. I keep trying, maybe one day I'll get the secret, until then you'll just have to put up with this poorly constructed, grammatically inept, syntax challenged journal. Ah it's not that bad for a person who never passed an English exam.

Aries.

   March 21st - April 19th.

Arians are - Tactile, uncoordinated, rustic and invariably smell of lavender.

This month will see a change in your hairstyle, something layered with a hint of colour. Make every effort to avoid birds, especially sparrows; they have been after you since the episode with the lion shit and catnip. A bread and butter pudding will come in handy in the middle of the month; you'll know when the time comes. If you find you don't need the pudding, feed it to those nasty sparrows, they wont thank you but they wont starve.

Do: Convert your dining room into a dungeon.
Don't: Try to look at your own chin.
Say: "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls".

Rapid ramble.

Prime time war makes me sick, local paper full of "our boys" quotes, wish bush was a twelve foot lizard like Ike says, then we could burn him. Fuck it lets burn him anyway. Think I might start encoding my posts, think they're watching me, through my computer screen. I bought a stopwatch to time your beauty, but I had to fit a second hand.............what the fuck does that mean ? Just finished "the business" by Ian Banks, got worried about ten pages from the end and it wasn't moving fast enough, then it finished abruptly like he got fed up and thought "fuck it, I've had enough of this there you go, she marries the prince" oops ! Sorry. Must dash, apparently Baghdad is burning.....didn't expect that.

Question !

The question is, is it preferable to post little and often, or, are long rambling posts more interesting ? I can't make my mind up, I read blogs that fall into both categories and they are all good. I may try to keep a balance between the two; yes I'm trying to please everybody. I suppose I could try and invent a hybrid post, the rapid ramble.

Mmmmm cheap music.

If you spend loads of cash on CDs, and I know I do.....then you need to check this out. It will save you lots of your hard earned.

Quick, ill thought out rant.

I've just listened to a group of people talking about their loved ones in the forces. Who, as I type this, are preparing to murder Iraqi people. The interviewer was asking these people how they felt, and also what their loved ones were feeling being this close to war. Now this may sound a little brutal, but is fighting not an occupational hazard for a fucking soldier ? If you didn't want to find yourself staring down the dangerous end of an Iraqi machine gun, then why the fuck did you join up ? This is typical of our media; forget the innocent people who are dying, lets not linger on those frightful foreigners. I truly hope that our soldiers come home safe, but I also hope that the people who had no choice in whether they were there or not also stay safe and well. Although I suspect they wont.

In the event of an attack.

Lets see what uncle Tony recommends we have in our Ikea flat-pack home bunker.


1 dozen bottles of Buxton Spring mineral water.
2 Sainsburys be good to yourself Gas masks.
6 months supply of B&Q anti germ-warfare pills.
4 rolls of Duct tape.
1 picture of your arse (so you can kiss it goodbye).
4 rolls of tin foil.
1 family pack of Aldi candles.
A bucket.
8 packets of Tesco value bumper bog rolls.
2 Canary's in a cage (optional).
1 clockwork radio.
1 book of Dubyas wartime buzzwords (for the above).
2 packs of Halfords air filters (nuclear grade)


Oh, and.......

6 Huskies (to drag your ass across the frozen wastes of Hell).

Last out of the blocks again.

It seems everything I was going to say about the coming debacle in the Middle East has been said. Probably better than I could anyway, so I'll not bother for today. Instead I've added another link to my ever increasing list of places to go....no I'm not going to tell you, you'll just have to have a mooch about and find it.

Tesco.net, my new ISP, are performing ok. I suppose anything is good after the last lot. It remains to be seen if they can keep it up. The sooner I get broadband the better. Although at the rate I download music I may have to invest in a couple of one hundred gig hard drives. My tip for downloading: Flaming Lips - get anything 'cos it's all good, but in particular "Do you realise" and "In a priest driven ambulance" both are excellent. That's me for today, got to be up early in the morning for work (04:45). In my opinion that's still night, such is the life of a wage slave. Till tomorrow my friends.......

A sad day.

I didn't think for one minute that Blair and Bush would abide by the UN when they finally decided that the war on Iraq was unjustified. I was convinced they would attack anyway. But, now after the announcement that we are going to war I feel as though there is very little hope for future international relations. The UN may as well call it a day, they are impotent. As a world organisation they are finished, redundant........and made so by a person answerable to us. This could go down in history as one of the defining moments of the 21st century, the moment when big business finally overcame rational international diplomacy. We might as well let global corporations take over (I acknowledge the argument that they already have) in an official capacity, their blatant disregard for human life and the protestations of the majority is staggering. After Cook's resignation it will be interesting to see who follows, and also what happens to Blair after the fires in Baghdad have been put out. My prediction (for what it's worth) Bush a hero, Blair a zero.

Cumbria needs adsl

Please send broadband to this electronic hinterland asap !! I've just about had enough with freeserve, the service has been getting steadily worse since crimbo. I'm sick of not being able to get on certain sites, I'm sick of slow load times......and most of all I'm sick of the price going up at the end of this month. So, today I have got a new ISP, new email and other bits and bobs that I haven't had a look at yet. I have just had a trial run, and got on the sites that I previously couldn't, and they loaded up quick. I sent a couple of test emails and they worked ok, so it all looks rosey......I'll keep you posted.

Oh and the tax dodger is thinking of starting a blog, I don't think I'll be allowed to read it, but I'll point you in his direction as and when.

There's a surprise !


Socialist - You believe the free market can be
beneficial, but that a large and powerful state
is necessary to redistribute the wealth of the
top classes to those of the bottom. You also
think that basic utilities and trasportation
should be publicly owned. Your historical role
model is Eugene Debs.


Which political sterotype are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


This via burnt toast

No joke.

whether a person gives to charity is a personal issue, and there are lots of things to take into consideration. The amount of cash you have at your disposal is probably the most important. If you add to this the political issues, whether you agree with a charities views, and even whether or not you think a certain charity is a valid one. When you have mulled over these questions and picked your favourites, you give money when and how you see fit. Comic relief has taken away our right to do this. It's legalised mugging, and even if you have already given money, you are "shamed" into giving more. Then, on top of the grass roots bucket wielders, there's the bandwagon jumping celebs who "give their time" to help unfortunate people all over the world. Well forgive me if I assume it's just an ego boosting PR exercise.

If our wonderful leaders didn't spend their time selling all manner of evil weaponry to third world governments, then maybe all the debt cash could go to feeding their own people. Simple political solutions can negate the need for all this fund raising. Funny, I didn't see any of those celebs in Iraq telling us of all the children that are dieing because of the sanctions imposed by the very government we voted in. Nor did I see anyone in Palestine showing us the death and destruction perpetrated by a regime that has our tacit approval.

Charity is an amazing humane thing, and one which I whole heartedly agree with, but we need to clear away all the bullshit and when we have a world in which we are all truly equal, then we can give our money safe in the knowledge that it goes to those who, not only need it, but still need it after all other obstacles have been overcome.

Linkage.

Quick, nip over to Zoe's place and leave a joke in the comments box of the relevant post. Yesterdays commentathon was exceded easily, congrats to the troubled diva. Only one more joke from me, I promise. All our donations will come tomorrow while we are in the shop.

Top three referals to this site today have been "wife wanking", "how to fuck a nun" and finally "the penis pickle song". I new the joke idea was ill thought out, I now have all manner of weirdos mooching about here...........so no change there then ?

A nun a priest and a camel.

A nun and a priest are riding a camel through the desert. After a few days the camel falls over dead. After looking over the situation the priest concludes neither one of them will survive the rest of the journey. The priest asks the nun "I have never seen a woman's breasts, and at this point it probably wouldn't matter much, so could I see yours?" The nun agrees and shows him her breasts. "May I touch them?" The nun allows him to. The priest comments sincerely how wonderful they are. The nun then asks "Father, I have never seen a man's penis before, could you show me yours? The priest drops his drawers. "May I touch it?" After she fondles his penis for a minute he sports a huge erection. The priest says, "you know if I place my penis in the proper place it can give life!" "Is that right" the nun replies? "Yes." "Then why don't you stick it up that camels arse and lets get the hell out of here!"

The pledge.

See below on your right. Link via Stuart

I have just been surfing on rense and I thought I would share a few things that I found. This brings new meaning to the drive by killing. This is another nail in the coffin of the Kyoto agreement. This is maybe why Dubya looks more confused nowadays. Finally, lets hope some of our misguided leaders end up here.

It's the Saddam show.

breaking news: The Americans are insisting that Saddam Hussein goes on TV and tells everyone what a bad boy he has been, then he must dance to "in the mood" wearing naught but a smile, and promise to live out the remainder of his years serving burgers in the Baghdad McDonalds.

I am now an internal auditor for ISO9001 (2000). The training course was typical of all these one-day-course-from-work deals, you sit in a room in a hotel, with a group of people you have never met and learn about extremely tedious things from another person you have never met. I might set up a website........training course re-united. The chairs were possibly the most excruciatingly uncomfortable I have ever put my arse on, and possibly the only thing that kept me awake. The food was nice though, so not a complete dead loss. The downside, of course, is now I have to audit things.

Can anyone tell me if blogger has been playing up recently ? Particularly the template. Ta !

Pierre the fighter pilot.

Pierre, a brave French fighter pilot, takes his girlfriend, Marie, out for a pleasant little picnic by the River Seine. It's a beautiful day, and love is in the air. Marie leans over to Pierre and says: "Pierre, kiss me!" Our hero grabs a bottle of Merlot wine and splashes it on Marie's lips. "What are you doing, Pierre?", says the startled Marie. "I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have red meat, I have red wine!" She smiles and they start kissing. When things began to heat up a little, Marie says, "Pierre, kiss me lower." Our hero tears her blouse open, grabs a bottle of Chardonnay and starts pouring it all over her breasts. "Pierre! What are you doing?", asks the bewildered Marie. "I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have white meat, I have white wine!" They resume their passionate interlude and things really steam up. Marie leans close to his ear and whispers, Pierre, kiss me lower!" Our hero rips off her underwear, grabs a bottle of Cognac and pours it in her lap. He then strikes a match and lights it on fire. Marie shrieks and dives into the river. Standing waist deep in the water, Marie throws her arms upwards and screams furiously, "PIERRE, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Our hero stands up defiantly and says, "I am Pierre the fighter pilot! If I go down, I go down in flames!"

A bloke walks into a pub....

A bloke walks into a pub with an octopus. He sits the octopus down on a stool and tells everyone in the pub that this is a very talented octopus. “He can play any instrument in the world”. He hears everyone in the crowd laughing at him ... so he says he will wager £50 with anyone who has an instrument that the octopus can't play. A bloke walks up with a guitar and sits it beside the octopus. The octopus starts playing better than Jimi Hendrix. So the man pays his £50. Another bloke walks up with a trumpet, the octopus plays the trumpet better than Dizzy Gillespie. So the man pays his £50. A third bloke walks up with the bagpipes. He sits them down and the octopus fumbles with them for a minute and sets them down with a confused look on it’s beak. “Ha” the man says “can't you play it ?” The octopus looks up at the man and says


“Play it ? I'm going to shag it as soon as I get its pyjamas off”.

The turtle and the snails.

A turtle was walking down an alley in New York when he was mugged by a gang of snails. A police detective came to investigate and asked the turtle if he could explain what happened. The turtle looked at the detective with a confused look on his face and replied…………….



"I don't know, it all happened so fast."

Pisces.

   February 20th - March 20th.

Pisceans are - easily led, pink, fragrant, and normally a good shag.

As a Piscean you are usually too busy to read these things, but today you will find the time. The late arrival of this horoscope is typical of your luck; in fact it would be advisable to stay in until the end of the month. If you go out you run the risk of being run over by an orange car. Now is a good time to start listening to country music, the lilting rhythms will sooth your troubled soul, although the lyrics could send you over the edge. If you do get suicidal thoughts talk to a Libran, they are usually frighteningly upbeat. Avoid prunes.

Do: Invent a new pie filling.
Don't: Ride a Donkey into Jerusalem.
Say: "How do I get the Gerbil out once he's gone up there ?"

De-bunkage

Long time readers of this paltry chronicle will remember my attempts at horoscopes; I am giving serious consideration to resurrecting them. One a month, in a sort of "Old Moores Almanac" stylee. Pisces will be first; even though we're part way through I think I can pull it off. Check back later.

The Priests and the Rabbis

A group of Priests had arranged a game of football with a group of Rabbis; it was the inter-faith cup final. A few days before the match, disaster struck. The Catholic team's star player broke his leg and the doctor said he wouldn't be able to play again for at least four months.

"What are we going to do?" moaned Father O'Reilly.

"Well," said Father Vaughan, "it so happens that Robbie Keane is a good friend of mine. We could ask him to play for us."

"But that wouldn't be ethical, now would it?" said Father O'Reilly.

"No, but if we called him Father Keane, no one need know," replied Father Vaughan.

Eventually Father O'Reilly agreed to let this devious plan go ahead but then, as luck would have it, he was suddenly called away on official Church business and was unable to watch the match. As soon as he could, he phoned Father Vaughan for the result.

"I'm afraid they beat us, seven-three," said Father Vaughan.

"But how could that happen?" queried Father O'Reilly. "We had Father Keane in our team."




"Yes," said Father Vaughan, "but they had Rabbi Zidane and Rabbi Ronaldo playing for them."

Sunday thoughts.

Continuing in the vein of non PC jokes, go and have a look at this one, funnier than both mine put together. I'm going to have to do far better tomorrow.

Shania Twain's new song is a dig at our capitalist way of life, brilliant I thought, a celeb who cares about the way we encourage children to be greedy. So I headed on over to her website to see what other good work she was doing to educate us. Guess what ? yep you guessed it, not only can you spend shit loads of cash buying all manner of Shania related tat, you do so through Wall-Mart, the evil empire. At this point I should admit that I actually like the song, the tune is nice and the African influenced music is very nice.......it's just a shame about the hypocrisy.

I may have found the answer to my diminishining mental state. Of couse it will need to be reprogramed to bring me beer and nuts, and if it's designed properly it could even take my place at work.......he he my master plan is coming together.

Head fuck.

As you can see I posted Sundays joke a little early, in fact I forgot it was still Saturday, that just about sums up my mental state at the moment. I forget things that were in my mind moments ago, but can picture with perfect detail things that happened years ago. I used to get deja vous a lot....but recently I haven't, there must be something different on a chemical level in my head. I have odd thoughts, ones I'm not ready to share, I also have strange dreams (I had worked myself up to post some of them a few weeks ago but thought better of it). I don't know....it's got me stumped, not hard I know.

Blogger has seen fit to put two adverts at the top of some blogs, mine being one of them, I wonder if Google has anything to do with this ?

There is a song that's been on the radio all week, and it sounds a lot like James, I haven't a clue who it is or what it's called......any ideas anyone ?

The penis and the pickle slicer.

Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years when he came home one day and confessed to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his penis into the pickle slicer. His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own. One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong.
"What's wrong, Bill?" she asked.
"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?"
"Oh, Bill, you didn`t."
"Yes, I did."
"My God, Bill, what happened?"
"I got fired."
"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"



"Oh, she got fired too."

The Nun and the Punk rocker.

The following joke may offend some people. I think it was originally one of Bernard Manning's, yes I know he's a bigot and homophobe who reinforces stereotypes, and there is no place for him in today's comedy......yadda yadda ! This one is funny though, if you can just take it for what it is....a joke.

A nun and a punk rocker are standing at a bus stop, the punk says to the nun "do you fancy a fuck ?" The nun says that she most certainly does not, and tries to muster the most disgusted look she can. Soon the bus arrives and both protagonists get on. The punk sits right behind the nun and asks again "do fancy a fuck or what ? it's the habit that turns me on, I can't help it" The nun is beside herself with righteous indignation and moves to the other side of the bus. Undeterred, the punk just raises his voice and carries on his sexual diatribe so the whole bus can hear. Presently the conductor warns the punk that "any more of that lad and you'll be off, and we wont bother stopping first". The next stop the nun gets off, a couple of miles further on the punk gets up as his stop approaches, the conductor pulls him to one side and says "If you want to get off with that nun just go to the graveyard at midnight on Friday, she is always there. Dress up as the Holy Ghost and you're guaranteed a shag". The punk ponders this and decides to go for it. Friday night comes around and the punk is dressed in his best white sheet, with holes cut out for his eyes. He approaches the nun and in his best ghostly voice says "I am the holy ghost and I command thee to shag me" The nun thinks for a while, and then says "I am a bride of Christ, and must stay a virgin......but if you're gagging for it you can give me one up the gary glitter". The punk/holy ghost doesn't need asking twice, he promptly rides the arse off the nun, when he's finished he gets up, throws the white sheet off and shouts "aha......punk rocker". The nun, unperturbed, gets up, rips the wimple off and shouts





"aha........fucking bus conductor"

Between the wars.

Are we doomed to spend eternity between wars ? I was listening to a compilation CD on my way home from work, and this song came on. I'm no music journalist, but this song harks back to time when things were simpler, and the song is a plea to the government to look after us here, and to forget this never ending path from one war to the next.

Red nose day is looming, it's one of the less annoying charity TV events, apart from the usual arguments that I'm not gonna get started on. Anyway, Gert is looking for ideas, so go and lay it on her. I might just go for a day of joke posts, or maybe one joke per day until red nose day. That sounds good, I'll start tomorrow.

I am considering doing this for my OU course. It looks like it will please "the management" and it will obviously help me, although I'll be in my forties before I get those three little letters after my name.

The infernal machine.

I presume that most men will have already worked out that I'm talking about "the Hoover" it couldn't be anything else. A machine so vile it can only have been designed by a demon in the darkest depths of hell. Beneath all other evil souls, down through Dante's rings, in a sub cellar below Judas Iscariot there is a place where machines are developed. A place that saw the birth of a machine so disgraceful it is hated the world over. Lets have a look at what it is, in essence it eats shit, it gobbles the detritus of lives and stores it in it's innards. But it's not what it does that scrapes the edge of my soul; it's the noise it makes. If hell had a voice it's the Hoover, screaming at you while it swallows muck, the Harpy of the home, a mechanical fishwife screeching as it trundles around your house. My hatred of this unholy fucking contraption started a long time ago, my mum used to use the horrible thing while I was trying to watch top of the pops. On many an occasion I would sit watching a film, concentrating for a couple of hours on the intricate plot of a murder mystery, right at the end, the main character would announce that he was about to divulge the identity of the villain, he stands to address the rest of the cast congregated in the drawing room "I will now reveal the identity of the murderer" says Sherlock Holmes "The killer is..............wwWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". How many times has that happened to you ? Or, am I the only one ?

This piece of household hardware should be redesigned, and here are my recommendations: It should be silent; it shouldn't smell like it does, it should be automatic so it can clean your house at night while you sleep. Then, when it's finished it should store itself in a tiny cupboard, away from me so I never have to see one again.

Do you have any contenders for hells workshop ? Send them, we can have a list of the collected works of Beelzebub's design department.

"The Ballad of George W Clampett"


Come and listen to a story about a man named George.
A poor college drop-out, a career he couldn't forge,
Then one day he was shootin at some food,
And up through the ground came a bubblin crude.

Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea.

Well the first thing you know ol George's a millionaire,
Kinfolk said "George move away from there"
Said "Washington is the place you ought to be"
So they loaded up the truck and bought the presidency.

Vote rigged, that is. Supreme court, kissin' cousins.

The first thing he did was threaten everyone,
thought he'd kill Iraq 'fore all his oil was gone.
Georgie told Saddam "jus do what yer told"
So that uncle Sam can have all the A-rab gold.

Black, that is. Fossil finance, Texas style.

Well now its time to say goodbye to George and all his kin.
And they would like to thank you folks fer kindly droppin in.
You're all invited back a gain to this locality
To have a heapin helpin of their hospitality

Hillybilly that is. Set a spell, Take your shoes off.

Y'all come back now, Y' hear?

GBS with intent.

The amount of vulgar smells that can congregate around one person boggles the mind. My vicinity was entered today, by a young man who obviously hasn't discovered the joys of a hot bath. The smell of stale sweat can be nauseating at the best of times, but when you add the delights of month old piss, it can bring tears to your eyes. But then there's the other smell, the "I've been wanking off over the lingerie section of my mums Kays catalogue for the last month and brought the fruits of my labour with me for your olfactory perusal" smell. It should be classed as a form of physical assault, Grievous Bodily Smells with intent to induce vomiting. It amazes me that some people can find forty quid to buy a playstation game, but can't manage to rustle up ten bob for a bar of fucking soap.

Our local Safeway has burned down, it burned for a good twelve hours. Apparently the smell of roast lamb and popcorn was lovely. (Don't worry no one was hurt). The manager of the local Tesco's was seen rubbing his little hands with Faginesque glee, and was overheard singing, in a vaguely Jewish voice, "you've got to set a fire or two". Suffice it to say Tesco's car park was fucking fuller than a very full thing. We will have to resort to shopping at two in the morning with the insomniacs and students.

Todays top tune.

Do you realize - The flaming lips.

Appologies for the American spelling:

Do you realize
That you have the most beautiful face?
Do you realize
We're floating in space?
Do you realize
That happiness makes you cry?
Do you realize
That everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your good-byes
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do you realize?

Do you realize
That everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your good-byes
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do you realize
That you have the most beautiful face?

Do you realize?

Letters after my name ?

My appraisal didn't pan out the way I expected, it was like he had seen all my notes. I was headed off at the pass more times than the fucking James brothers. One really positive thing to come out of the hour of the long knives was he agreed to my request for an Open University degree, so I'm now looking for a suitable course to start. All in all it wasn't that bad, and I suppose that's it for another year.....except now I have to appraise my staff, oh happy day !

Because of my lapse of memory this morning and the resultant disappointment of having to get up, I have a plan. I am going to set my alarm knowing full well that I don't have to get up. Then, when the alarm goes off I can have that moment of bliss for real, hit the off switch and go back to sleep for another four hours......sad or what ?

Sleepy thought process.

I woke up at about quarter to five feeling smug because I didn’t have to get up, it being Wednesday and all. As I lay there snuggling further under the duvet a thought struck me……….If it’s Wednesday and I don’t have to get up, why is the alarm going off ? This question was answered with the dawning realisation that it was in fact Tuesday, and I did have to get up. Seven profane expletives in one sentence later and I was heading for the bathroom. To make matters worse, I have my appraisal today, and the mood I’m in it could turn into a bit of a gripe session. Fuck it, they could use a little constructive criticism. Check back later for the inquest.

Back in the groove.

I've noticed that petrol prices have been rising steadily again. Over the last couple of weeks the price has risen over four pence a litre, and shows no sign of stopping. What's far more puzzling is the complete lack of press coverage, remember the blockades ? It was front-page news, and the TV lapped it up. Blair and his cronies have tried every trick in the book, they have demonised Saddam, they have tried to make us think he can fire anthrax at us, they have even pricked our conscience by trying to convince us that Saddam is starving his people so he can build another palace. All these have failed, we still don't want war, so, now they are trying to get us to support their latest act of barbarism by hitting us in our pocket. Of all their treacherous tactics this is the one that might just work, after the public outcry the last time petrol prices went up, this time next month we will all be on "bomb the fuck out of Iraq" marches. At least the French had the decency to admit from the outset that they were only in it for the oil. Come on Tony, dig deep into what little soul you have left, stop lying and cheating your way into war, give us what we want and what you promised nearly seven years ago.........an ethical foreign policy. Here's a radical idea, let's stop subsidising death, and instead subsidise education, health, and social welfare.

In other news.

It's been a weird week, with a funeral in the middle and the usual ups and downs on either side. I'm finding it quite difficult to write anything at the mo, and I can't see an end to my feelings of apathy.

We have a big fuck-off cage for our little Chinchilla to live in, we are going to put it together and get it habitable tomorrow. It's the equivalent of her moving from a trailer park to a detached mansion with turrets.

I think I may need to take some mind altering substances to get my head back how it should be, maybe then I can post some original thoughts.........instead of the mind numbing trivia I have just foisted on you. It's three weeks till this blogs first birthday, not that I'm giving myself a time limit.