The big switch on.

Workington Christmas lights have been turned on today and no expense was spared. Face painters were employed to keep the kids happy, and a host of other attractions to make it a day to remember. So, who did the organisers pay to flick the switch I hear you ask ?

Neil Armstrong.

Unfortunately it wasn't the Neil Armstrong that walked on the moon, it was the Neil Armstrong who was in Byker grove. The good burgers of Workington failed to make the distinction, not that anyone with more than a couple of brain cells would have thought for one second that the lights were being switched on by an astronaut.

Peter Dean.

You may remember him from such TV programs as Eastenders and another one just after he left Eastenders, and probably pantomime. In an odd advertising mix-up he was billed as "TVs Ian Beale". Another tour de force of organisation from Workington council.

I cursed myself for not having the presence of mind to carry some rotten fruit to throw at the unfortunate media whores. When you have two "celebrities" of the calibre of these, stood on a podium in a cold wind-swept town centre, you have to wonder what you have to do to generate a nice big electrical storm. Now that would be worth seeing, a huge streak of lightening strikes Pete Beale and his flaming corpse starts a chain reaction that burns down the town, whilst a traumatised Neil Armstrong runs about the burning town centre shouting "why-eye pet, a div'nt fly fuck'n rockets man".

It could happen.

In the next instalment of bungling town centre management I'll tell you about the Christmas ice rink.

Schroedinger should have had a dog.

Since the John Titor site I have read two books on time travel, and I'm now more confused. According to one physicist reality only exists because we think it does. It's all about sub atomic particles being in a constant state of flux, apparently they test out possible futures and take the most favourable. This theory could be used on a bigger scale for humans; it explains aliens, ghosts, deja vous and a host of other "paranormal" stuff. What we see are apparently time storms. The second physicist thinks that Einstein and Hawking are barking up the wrong tree, (quite how Steven Hawking could bark up any tree is fucking beyond me). The theory is that time isn't linear it just exists in one big lump and we are free to move around in it. The problem is the uncertainty principle, it just fucks things up. The universe fucked up by a cat in a box ! Who would of thought it ?

Any questions ?

Justice ?

Today I have been in court to give evidence against a racist fuck-head. He told lies of course but the weight of evidence against him sealed his fate. After four people stood up and told the court that he had called someone a "B**** C***", he tried to convince the court that he said "You daft bastard". I can see how you would get confused, I mean they sound similar, fucking idiot.

So, when the magistrate told the nazi scumbag that he had been found guilty and then retired to decide his fate, you would think they would come back with something to set an example in an area of the world that really needs it, or send a message to the rest of the inbred Neanderthals that these kind of hate filled crimes will not be tolerated in the twenty-first century. Did they do it ? Did they fuck.

£150 fine to paid at £12 per fortnight !

OK, I thought, that was the fine part, now comes the proper sentence. But no, they stood up and fucked off, leaving the rest of dumbfounded. The fucking scroat who had just got the result he wanted waltzed out of the court with a smile and a spring in his step.

Is it me or has the system failed to punish the criminal and instead seriously let down a victim ?

Head fuck.

I found this site on Skin, and it's done my head in. Time travel has been an ongoing theme here for the past eighteen months, probably because I believe that most of the written history is a pack of lies and I would like to see some of it for myself. I'm not too bothered about seeing into the future, I don't want to know what evil things await us. I want to know what happened in the past.

First on my list of places to visit would be Easter 34 AD, I want to know exactly what happened when Jesus was alleged to have risen from the dead. Not because I want bring down the catholic church, although it would be nice to see the back of one of the most corrupt organisations on earth, or because I want to damage peoples faith in god. I just want to know the truth; after all it's what science is all about. To finally know the truth about Christianity would set science free.

Where and when would you go with your brand new shiny time machine ?

Rocket science ?

Doors are either open or closed, there should be no in between; you could say they were digital. Not, however, in Cumbria where your average punter will push the door further open as they leave, as if holding it open for some spectral customer behind them. Just shut the mother-fucking door !

After watching my first ever Rugby match today, can you guess which one ? I have come to the conclusion that watching England play was like being a City fan, that's what we go through every week. The tension can be draining sometimes. Not today because we got spanked at St James' park.

I'm still not happy with the décor, things will change soon.

Hmm, I’m not sure.

I can’t make my mind up whether I like it or not, it seems a bit…..ahm, off ? It’s just not right. I’m going to have to tinker with it a bit more I think.

Fuckin' morons and other stuff.

On top of the fact that I didn't get away from work as early as I wanted, I had to put up with morons. The fridge at work was turned off yesterday in order to defrost it; the thought-shy fuckers still put their food in it, as if it would magically keep their stuff nice and chilled.

This just in from pogo:

Weetabix sold to an American venture capital firm. Bastards, I must have eaten a million of those little fuckers since I was a kid. Looks like it's toast for me from now on.

The Smirnov blue is very nice, especially with fresh orange juice.

Get on kazaa and download some Erin McKeown, start with "born to hum" and then get anything else you can find, she's ace.

Winter service.

My blog, like my car, needs a fucking good seeing to. I have been unhappy with the colours since I got my big fuck-off monitor; everything looks so garish and bright. (Yes I have adjusted the brightness - rolls eyes). I need to subdue things a little and I think this weekend will see some changes.

I'm going to make a concerted effort to find some new blogs to read. I find myself reading my list and that's it, I need an injection of fresh blood. This weekend may see another twelve hour trawl through blogland; whatever I find will be posted here.

I have just drained the last few drops from a bottle of Abslut vodka, and now I have a bottle of Smirnov blue to road test (booze and driving analogies not good I suppose).

Just binned Chaos and added Skin, no connection at all, not the same person or anything. I just thought I should get rid of one and add the other, nothing to get suspicious about. Go on; move along, nothing to see here.

500 years of humanitarian intervention.

Last night we went to see Rob Newman at the Whitehaven civic hall. The tour is titled "From Caliban to the taliban". The vast majority of the show is dedicated to debunking the media's obsession with portraying the yanks as a peaceful altruistic nation, who only goes to war as a last resort when their security is threatened. With facts like "Only in 1892 have America gone a full twelve months without being at war with someone abroad" you can tell he has worked very hard on the history and the background info. On top of all the fantastic facts and history was bloody good comedy, he hasn't lost his touch since the Mary Whitehouse experience days, and because he has got older he has a more mature outlook on life but with just enough silliness to keep you giggling. In the second half of the show he got his ukulele and took the piss out of Dylan for doing corporate gigs in Silicon Valley, and obviously Bush jnr snr and grandpappy came in for some much deserved stick. This wasn't just about the yanks though; he had a go a Blair and his cronies as well as Churchill and the reasons behind the first world war. I'll leave you with this final fact. If Blair and Bush were subjected to the same justice as the nazi war criminals were at Nuremberg, they would both have been hanged.

#3 was false.

I was actually six when my dad took me into an illegal gambling den.

Yanks.
The film starred Richard Gere and Vanessa Redgrave. It was directed by John Schlesenger and was filmed in and around Stalybridge, which is where I went to school. One lunchtime we heard a rumour that they were auditioning for extras and they wanted kids for a scene on a golf course. Me and a couple of mates went down to the old school building in Stalybridge town centre and asked if we could audition. We were all herded into a room and some bloke had a look at us and said “sorry lads, you’re all too old”. On the scrap heap at thirteen, and after my magnificent Herod in the nativity not two years previous. Show business can be very cruel.

200m final.
After winning the school sports day two-hundred metres final I was asked to run for the school at the Greater Manchester schools athletics championships. I absolutely pissed my heat, setting a new school record of twenty-five seconds dead, not bad for a fourteen-year-old. The final came around and I was up against some serious athletes, they had blocks and fancy running shoes. I had a pair of old spikes and I wasn’t wearing any socks. I actually surprised myself because I was up with the leaders until about forty metres to go, the three quickest then moved into top gear and left me behind. I came in fourth out of six and I have the photos to prove it.

Gambling den.
One night my dad took me down to Hyde lads club, I think it was supposed to be a meeting of the local modeling club. The room was dominated by a huge eight lane industrial Scalextric set. There was a group of blokes in the middle, obviously the drivers, and masses of blokes around the outside of the track betting on the outcome of the races. It was very smokey and very noisy and absolutely fantastic.

Airplane.
When I was about fifteen I spent a week on a RAF base in the midlands, I think it was RAF Newton. As well as using the running track at RAF Cosford and shooting paper men at RAF Cirencester we got to fly a Chipmunk at RAF Newton. Spookily enough, the pilot who took me up that day was flight lieutenant (pronounced left-ten-ant) Simon Morris. We took off and did a bit of arsing about and then he let me take over the controls. I had my go and we did a bit of aerobatics then landed safely back on terra firma. Top week.

Murder.
I come from the same town that the Moors murderers and Dr Shipman come from, so it’s no surprise that there were other murders in the area when I was growing up. One night while everyone slept, a couple were bludgeoned in their beds by person or persons unknown. In a bid to catch the killer the police interviewed every male between the ages of thirteen and sixty. So one Sunday evening me and my dad went to the incident room on the car park of our local pub (Hallbottom Gate Inn). There we were questioned by a weary detective who obviously though he had far better things to do than chat to us. Incidentally, they never did catch the killer.

Which one is false ?

1. I auditioned for a part in the film "Yanks".
2. I was a county championship 200m finalist.
3. I was taken into a gambling den at Five years old.
4. I’ve flown an airplane.
5. I was questioned by the police in a murder inquiry.

Three dog night.

I have just spent about twenty minutes stood in the shadow of a tanker watching the stars. The tanker shades me from the harsh glare of the floodlights at work and allows me to see the clear night sky. To the south I could clearly see the Dog star Sirius. It seems to twinkle red green and blue; it also seems to shift slightly as if it’s restless. I think I could probably stand and watch it for hours. The full moon is so bright that the cows are still eating and the insects are having one last fling before winter sets in properly.

I wonder if anyone is watching us twinkle !

Disappointed !

We went to see Matrix revolutions last night, and we all thought it was utter shite. Sorry if you haven't seen it yet, but save yourself a few quid go and see Kill Bill instead. Don't get me wrong, the special effects were stunning, the storyline was quite good, but the acting and the script were so full of cheese it may as well have been written by Bob Wensleydale.

About twenty years ago my mate's dad opened a pub, me and my mate went to the opening and got free booze all night. I sat at the bar and drank vodka and orange one after the other until I was absolutely fucking wasted. Not satisfied with that we went to a club, and started again. At this point things become very hazy, the last thing I remember was a couple of mates trying to sober me up by putting my head under the cold water tap in the toilets. I staggered back into the bar thinking they had tried to drown me. The next thing I remember is waking up sat on the back seat of our car with my head propped against the passenger headrest and a puddle of vomit between my feet. I crawled back into the house from were Tracy had left me and managed to climb into bed. As I drifted back into my coma I heard her mumble something about me being a drunken twat, and that I had to clean the mess I left on the stairs the night before. I was ill for two days and after my body had successfully constructed a new stomach lining, to replace the one I had flushed down our toilet, I vowed never to touch vodka again. That is until last night ! I was stuck for something to drink, and bored with the usual beer or red wine, so Tracy suggested vodka and fresh orange. It was bloody lovely, but this time I will exercise a degree of moderation. After sitting through two and a half hours of Keanu Reeves looking puzzled I really needed a stiff drink.

So, I'm very disappointed, it could have been fantastic but it was a let down. My advice for what it's worth, would be to take reloaded and revolutions and give them to Ridley Scott to make one decent film with a different ending, and call it Matrix 2.

And the popcorn tasted like week old yak shit.

Bluetealeaf winter menu.

Hors D' Oeuvres:

A rhombus of quails eggs on a nest of distressed spinach with a cauliflower jus.

Thatched tiger prawns in a tsunami of quince essence, with a hint of irony.

Main Courses:

Orphaned pork with roasted pigeons feet set on a pyramid of butternut daufinoisse and a quenelle of caramelised strawberry stalks.

A rapport of Trout, lovingly caressed in a wild jalapeno coulis resting on a bed of pan-fried cactus spines, oppressed by a cantaloupe julienne.

Dessert:

Banana Ben Nevis with Praline anecdotes in a cooking sherry jus, drizzled with a cuckold's tears.

A sub-cellar of toffee ice cream sat on a scree of Skittles accompanied by a map of New Zealand made from nougat and honey.


This menu was inspired by this bunch of arse !

Information B roads.

Information super highway is a phrase I hear a lot nowadays, my 56k connection was more like an overgrown country track; full of bumps and potholes. I have just installed my new adsl modem and I think I just turned onto the duel carriageway. Instead of making music play lists, I now find myself downloading films and stand up comedy videos. Now I think I need a really big hard drive.

Last week I posted my OU end of course assessment, lets hope the postal strike doesn't fuck it up. Although I fully support my striking comrades, I sometimes wish the GMB were a little more militant. My assessment was going to Milton Keynes, and should have been there by Friday. Fingers crossed, come December I may have my first OU points on the board. My next course is a sixty-point course with a ten point residential. Sounds like fucking hard work to me. I'm going to try and learn to read and surf simultaneously.

Can't talk.

Got broadband and a new 17 inch TFT monitor.