Weekly Round Up - Fiona Bruce, Touch Phones, Segways & APPS

Hello all,

Well what a hectic few weeks it has been. I have been kept busy with work as usual. What with the strikes and the working to rule I've hardly had a minute to myself. Today I played at being a Supervisor for a few hours cause there was no cover at one of my stations. It was jolly good fun, actually. I made lots of announcements and used every bit of technology at my disposal. For a while there it almost looked as if I knew what I was doing. I think the staff were stunned to see me there, but not as stunned as I was to see me there. It was almost as shocking as finding me at a Gary Glitter concert.....again.

I've been mostly pre-occupied with my new Touch Phone. I finally succumbed, despite all the bitching and moaning I've done over the last three years to my ever increasing pool of iPhone carrying friends. Honestly, if syphilis spread this fast, there would be a public outcry. Not that I am likening the iPhone to a sexually transmitted disease, of course. Unless it was herpes. You can't get rid of that easily either.

Anyway, I have finally decided that if you can't beat them you have to join them. Since I had no takers for my suggestion that we all go back to writing letters with pens and queuing up outside piss swamped public phone boxes, I reluctantly decided I had no choice. I was originally going to get an iPhone but the contract was not as good on the iPhone and I do like value for money. I basically get double everything (including the inconvenience) by opting for the HTC Wildfire instead. I am reliably informed that my phone is actually marginally slimmer than the iPhone so that's a positive plus in the phone stakes. Unfortunately, I subsequently found out it does not have that great swipey action through photographs. You know the one - where it looks like you are flicking an escaped bogey off your side plate before the waiter serving the bread notices. Apparently its copyrighted. Ah well. My phone runs Office, so that evens it up again.

Its been a very steep learning curve. I couldn't get anything to work on it. I kept calling people by accident. This would not be so bad, but I don't like a lot of the contacts in my phone very much and only really keep them there because I don't want anyone who steals my phone to think I only call my mum. Come to think of it, I've called my mum quite a few times by accident as well. She's never had it so good. I spent four days trying to attach photos to my contacts to no avail until my friend Osk pointed out that you can't attach 2 mb pictures to a SIM card contact. Not sure why when I can cram Bowie's entire catalogue onto an SD card the size of Jordan's moral centre, but apparently the technology has not caught up. Anyway, after a quick bit of exporting I've now got all my contacts piccied up. I've also learnt to "link" contacts, so I no longer have 8 numbers for the same person and can now click on my friend Pete's contact and select "home", "work", "mobile", "mobile his wife doesn't know about" or "current shag" at the touch of a finger.  Now that's what I call convenience.

I've also learnt that widgets and icons are not the same thing at all. I'm not entirely clear what the difference is, to be honest, other than widgets are bigger and tend to be nowhere near as useful. One widget that takes up almost a whole screen is the Weather Widget. This is also an APP, which is confusing. I should really get rid of this widget, since I don't really need to know the weather across eight time zones. I'm not the much loved and retired weatherman, Ian McCaskill, as his lawyers have recently made clear to me. But I suppose, come winter, it would be nice to know there was somewhere even colder.I could then use Google Maps to find out exactly where it was, before pinning it to my Wishlist APP of places I need to visit before I die. I could then link that to Flicker and have all the pictures taken about that subject sent to me for my perusal, whilst I dine out at a restaurant that came to my attention through my GPRS linked ThingsILike2Eat APP.

I'm constantly downloading "APPS" at the moment. APPS is apparently short for Applications. This, for the uninitiated means things you can do on your phone when you are waiting for it to carry out its primary function of ringing. I've found loads of them. I never knew I could not do without SpaceWars until now. Apparently there are much more up to date games out there but, as someone who has still not mastered Sonic on my 6 year old Nokia, I have some catching up to do. I'm just pleased they are in colour. Pong has never been so interesting. I've also downloaded something called "AppKiller". This is an absolute must as it kills all the applications that are running in the background that you downloaded, tried once and then forgot all about that are doing such things as tweeting your location to the world when you are having a shit in the next door neighbours garden.  Since downloading this useful application I have found my battery now lasts rather longer than 32 minutes. I have also found that the number of unsolicited yet strangely prescient direct messages I was receiving from people on Facebook with less than wholesome screen names has dropped dramatically. I've been swopping APPS at work and having lots of discussions and feel very much like of the hip kids. Now, if only I could remember the words to a Justin Beiber song, I would be complete.   One word of warning though - this phone has a useful application that auto links some of your contacts in your phone to Facebook profiles and e-mail addresses and such like. This can be cause some employer/employee awkwardness if you give your phone to someone who offers to help you with a problem. I found this out today when a member of staff asked me who "Cockmaster" was. Truthfully I have no idea, but I assume they know me and I have their real name in my phone somewhere. Anyway, if its you, could you please let me know so I can link you to your real name! If I find out it is my sister, I will be quite shocked. I doubt it is though as she doesn't really have it in her. Well, not as often as she would like, at any rate.

I also downloaded Skype, which has proved to be a real boon. Thanks to Osk for pointing me in the direction of this fantastic tool. This brings me nicely on to my news round up. I read in the Guardian a few days ago that Sky are attempting to sue the makers of Skype on the grounds of trademark infringement. Apparently, the average consumer could easily confuse Skype with Sky on account of the fact that some of the letters are the same. I'll let you work out which ones. This is nonsense. On that basis drug dealers could sue the makers of Coke, the brewery who makes Tetley Bitter could sue the makers of Tetley Tea Bags, Durex could sue Andrex and the maker of hula hoops could sue the makers of, errrr,  Hula Hoops. Personally I think the consumer of these two services is just about savvy enough to work things out for themselves. One is an over-hyped service providing a service prone to hanging and frequent drop outs, and the other broadcasts television programmes into the homes of people on benefits who are too fat to get jobs. As a side issue, have you ever wondered why Virgin Cable as never made it into the homes of the unemployed and unemployable? I think its because there is no status symbol dish that says "I can afford telly".

In other news this week I see that the Creator of the Segway has accidentally careered off a cliff whilst riding one of the things. You really couldn't make it up. Of course it is terrible for his family who were said to be shocked and saddened by the fall [in share price], and my thoughts are with his family at this difficult time.

Lastly, I see that the beloved BBC newsreader and presenter of The Antiques Roadshow, Fiona Bruce, has been stalked in the most "sinister and disturbing" way.  Apparently a guy by the name of Peter Oakey bombarded her with love letters and flowers for a considerable period of time, despite being under a court restriction against doing just that. He was back in court today and it transpired that he had previous convictions for sending threatening letters to Basildon library. Ms Bruce is clearly concerned that the behaviour will escalate. Clearly with good reason. He's already escalated from sending threatening letters to an inanimate building to sending bunches of flowers to Ms Bruce. If it carries on at this rate he'll be converting to Catholicism and buggering school boys by Christmas. Apparently sentencing was adjourned as the judge wanted to see the psychiatric reports. Well, I can save him the time. The man's a nutter. On a serious note though, although I make light of this, being stalked is no laughing matter, as a police officer made very clear to me at 2am just the other day, and I hope, for the future quality of the Antiques Roadshow, that this man is put in prison or at the very least made to resign from parliament. Oh wait, that's not him.That's Peter Mandelson. Nothing sinister about him.

Anyway, that's about it from me. I'm off to download some more APPS I never knew I needed. And best of all they are mainly free. I am amazed that so many people are prepared to give of their time so selflessly with the sole aim of improving my life. Its wonderful and something I could never hope of doing. Mind you, I recently discovered a website choc full of naked people doing unspeakable things in the public privacy of their own homes for free and I couldn't do that either. Its £20 per 30 minutes minimum with me, more if you want me to pull in my stomach.  I take Paypal, Visa, Maestro and (as a reflection of the precarious economic times we live in) luncheon vouchers and dry cleaning tokens.

I thank you.

International Burn A Silly Whiskered Preacher Day!

Hello, devoted small throng. Sorry for the tardy postings. Its all been a bit manic. Great stories have come and gone, now washed from our five minute consciousness, never to be referred to. Shame really, as there have been some really good stories I would have liked to comment on - not least that mad bag who dropped the kitty in the wheelie bin. Ah well. It is certainly not the first story I have missed, and it certainly won't be the last either.

I have been vastly entertained and purturbed by the detached ramblings of a certain Preacher named Terry Jones*. Or maybe he was a pastor. Anyway, he is (or was) planning on burning as many copies of the Koran has he could lay his hands on (pardon the pun). He decided to do this after apparently deciding enough is enough. Needless to say this has caused international outrage. He operates out of a small church in Gainesville in Florida. So deranged does he seem to be, that he can't seem to rustle up more than 50 followers. This, is pretty pathetic in a country renowned for the fervent obedience of its religious nut jobs.  He must be really out there. Or perhaps they were just put off by his odd choice of facial whiskers. They are impressive in their awfulness. Of course almost every media source has been in utter outrage at such a thing. Me included. Although Fox is apparently offering to send him some gasoline and firelighters (not really). I suppose it just fuels the fire and we should not give this guy the publicity. I love what he has done with the trailer though, although am not totally sure about the typeface. It looks a bit 70's to me. I think he must have had some left over from his previous protest from around that time. I believe it may well have been directed at another minority group. In fact if you look closely at the trailer (and this image does not do it justice), you can just make out the "Burn a Paki" letters, hastily painted over. I should not laugh. He's clearly doing what God tells him. I guess that goes for those whiskers as well. For God spake unto him and said, "Listen, Terry. If you want to be taken seriously, grow some 70's biker whiskers".And so it came to pass.

I can't help but notice though, that he is not selling the event very well. It apparently goes on for three hours and, although the Koran is quite a big book, it aint gonna burn for a full three hours. Yet there is no mention of food or dancing, or even a raffle. It's not really grabbing me. Anyway, the stop press is that he has apparently decided to cancel this book burning in exchange for talks with the Iman who is planning on building a Mosque on the Ground Zero site (which he isn't, by the way - it's some distance away). I am sure the Iman will be more than pleased to meet this guy and will extend him every courtesy - in the same way you would be nice to a granny who was now a bit confused and dribbly, but had once given you ice creams and has probably left you something in her will. Residual pity is a wonderful thing. A friend of mine has said that freedom of speech is a right. I mainly agree with this, provided that it is also accepted that with freedom comes responsibility. I don't see much responsibility attached to this action, especially in light of the additional risk it could put our troops at. Its a shame that so many people who think he has a perfect right to do this (and I am not including my friend here) are the same people who would also like to see a law enacted which makes American Flag burning illegal. You can't have it both ways. If you could then Larry King would be on CNN forever and open each show with the words "Welcome once more, you crazy motherfuckers", before flashing a saggy tit at camera three. Anyway, enough said about this guy - apart from I have noticed (with the help of wordsearch) that Burn A Koran Day is an anagram of Run Abroad Yank. Nuff said!

* For legal reasons I should point out that Pastor Jones is no relation to that surrrealist nutter Terry Jones of Monty Python fame who used to like playing the piano in the nude and wearing womens clothing. I have no evidence that Pastor Jones has ever played the piano.

Weekly Round Up

Hello all,

Well its been an interesting few weeks. Ups and downs. I am now pleased to announce that I am now moving back to my old group for the next few months, which makes me very happy indeed.

I've not really been reading the papers much this week, so there will  be no slaggings off from me this time. I was lucky enough to be outside Baker Street station to snap a celeb the other day. I was very pleased, since the last celebrity I managed to snap was Piers Morgan, who really doesn't count. I DID get to light Rula Lenska's fag a while ago, but that probably doesn't count either, since nobody apart from me can apparently remember who she is.

Anyway, I was stood outside the station on Tuesday minding my own business when I heard a girl scream. I turned round and saw a group of people surrounding someone, so of course I assumed someone had collapsed. I immediately marched up to the crowd, my first aid skills honed, and was just about to give my usual lecture about teenage girls needing to eat properly, when I saw that the group of people were all happy. So, I then assumed that either it was Jordan herself who had collapsed, or that there was some other possible reason. It was then that I
noticed a cute youth smiling in the middle of this throng, signing autographs and posing for the camera. Having no fucking idea who it was, I of course reached straight for my camera and took the shot you can see top left. I discussed this at length with my two 50 something friends and we all decided we had no clue. However, it turns out that it is none other than an actor called Nicholas Hoult, who apparently plays someone called Peter Beale in a popular long running soap called "Eastenders". So that was a result. He was with a girl with big knockers and blonde hair and I took a picture of her as well, which I am not going to publish on account of the fact that she is not famous. Unfortunately, by the time I had whipped my camera out he was on his way down the street, and there is nothing more embarrassing(or possibly illegal) than a 40 year old man running down the street, chasing after some boy he has no clue as to the identity of. So the shot was a bit hasty. Anyway, he was kind enough to let me take this shot later when he had ditched the girlfriend, which was nice of him.

 

Anyway, if that was not enough celebrities I also went to see Peter Murphy tonight with Helen and Osk. Helen is a big Peter Murphy fan. Me and Osk didn't really know too much about him but we went in good faith and a jolly good time was had as well. In fact, as Osk has twittered: "I ...need to see that again"!. High praise indeed! I'll leave you with a picture of the over painted old goth. Sweet dreams.

Character References At Reasonable Prices

Hello all,

It's been a couple of weeks. Work is busy, busy, busy. Not much news round up to report cause I have not really been that aware of any - although I do believe Spain have deservedly won the World Cup. Not quite sure what sport that was for, but the cup did look lovely. A bit like a knob after a particularly heavy fucking session. A bit like Wayne Rooney, in that respect. I should not keep picking on Rooney though. Its not his fault he looks like he accidentally fell into an industrial potato peeler as a child. I will just say that I think he is one of the few Premier league footballers, who I would much prefer kept his shirt on at the end of the match. There is nothing quite so disconcerting as seeing someone with the body of an early forties paunchy Gazza attached to the nipples of a 12 year old. Its all very weird, if you ask me, and not at all right. Almost like they had built him out of the bits of footballers they had left over. ANWAY......

I was recently asked to provide a character reference for a very good friend of mine who has just moved house. Of course I was pleased to do so. I am so pleased with the results that I produce the letter I possibly sent for you all to see. It goes without saying that if any of my loyal 11 readers are ever in need of a character reference, you need only ask. Of course, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

To Whom it may concern,



I have been asked to provide a character reference for Michael Socrates, which I am more than happy to do.


I have known Michael since 1999, initially online and more recently when he moved to England with no notice, and with little more than the clothes he was standing up in.


During the first few months Michael worked hard improving his English and eventually found a job as a pork scratcher. He pursued this job with dedication and perserverence, only finally handing in his notice when he realised that there was absolutely no call for it, and that he had been badly misled by a dillusional crack addict called Bernard. He has now successfully established himself as an underpaid freelance something or other. All I know is it involves a Macbook and copious amounts of Stella.


I am sure you will find Michael to be a positive contribution to your household. He is well liked by me and many other people of all ages. Certainly, when he stayed with me and my partner, the large number of older gentlemen who used to stop by for half an hour or so, always left with a smile on their faces. That’s one of his most endearing qualities – that he can offer something to people of all ages.


Michael is very responsible when it comes to money and always spends it wisely and with a nod to the longer term. He tends to travel light but the possessions he has bought are always of the highest quality. For instance, I was very impressed with the set of digital weighing scales he bought that can weigh anything from a tenth of a gram, all the way up to a kilo. A word of warning though – he can get very possessive. I took them to work once when I was asked by the boss to make some pancakes for Pancake Tuesday and he screamed at me for a good hour when I got home that night about how much money I had cost him. He was right though, I should have asked.


Although Michael came from a background where personal hygiene ranked far lower for my liking down a list of priorities that included carrying water from the nearby well, I am pleased to say that he has made concerted efforts to improve in this area during the five years he stayed with us. He no longer forages in the bin for scraps and has learnt that the dinner table is not an appropriate place at which to scratch himself before dipping his natchos. In fact, our third housekeeper in as many months reported recently that she was now willing to clean the downstairs toilet, albeit still with some trepidation and at all times accompanied.


If I had one complaint about Michael, it would be his penchant for burning spoons, which he does, he tells me, to relieve stress. I have a drawer full of scorched ones. I recently invested in a box of cheap aluminium ones for him, but they have remained largely unused because apparently they melt too easily and make him sick. However, I think he now has his own spoon, so this should not be a problem.


Generally Michael keeps himself to himself. I really only noticed he was there at all during his 5am call to prayer. He does not swear, drink or cavort with women and I have never seen him lose his temper in a particularly violent way, although he does occasionally throw his shoes at you. And, although pets were never really my thing before Michael came to live with us, I find that, now he has gone, I am really missing the Llama.


I hope this gives you an accurate indication of the calibre of person you are inviting into your home. Of course, a letter can never give the full flavour of the person, so if you should need any more information please do not hesitate to contact me.






Yours faithfully






Philip Backhouse






P.S. Michael has left 12 boxes of ammonium peroxide bleach in my upstairs hall cupboard. He asked me to buy them for him as a present in May 2005, as he was thinking of taking up hairdressing with four of his friends. I assume he has gone off the idea, and I have certainly not seen his four hairdressing friends since early July 2005. As they are taking up room needed by my new tenant of equal goodstanding, Mr Glitter, could you ask Michael if he still wants them? I’ve tried calling him on the number I had for him but it seems to have been disconnected, and the numbers I had for his four friends just keep going straight to voicemail.


Wishing you the very best.

Weekly Round Up

Dear all seven readers,

It has come to my attention that I have not done a weekly round up of news for a month. I can only blame this on the trauma attached to my belated failed attempts to become Prime Minister - coupled with the shock of the worst budget to hit our shores since, well, not quite sure when it was really, but that is hardly the point. The main point is in the ranting, which shall now begin on the next paragraph.

After it was announced that the government was to have a close look at benefit payments there was absolute fucking uproar - mainly from the very people who have a good income AND complain about scum living in their neighbourhoods. The first change announced was that people on income support would no longer be able to claim more than £400 a week for any house they live in. This sensible change caused the Liberal Left to claim that this would "Force people into the suburbs" and create a divide between the "have" and the "have nots". Well, excuse fucking me. But isn't that what property prices have always done? I earn almost £50k a year and I can't afford to live in Notting Hill. I am not certain why some lardy layabout should feel entitled to live in the area, nor what they feel they might contribute, above me, when in all honesty, you can be unemployed ANYWHERE, at a much cheaper price. The only thing I can think such people would bring to the neighbourhood would be all night off licences and chicken takeaways. But I could be biased.

I happened to be watching Newsnight a couple of days after the budget and they were interviewing this lardy arsed woman who had seven (count em) kids. Apparently "All of us on the street have a lot of kids - I don't know why". Well, the answer perhaps becomes apparent when the interviewer asked her how much she got a week in benefits and she replied £670. Fuck me! £670!!!! Tax Free. That's nudging a grand a week before tax. How many people in the UK get that? And she was not living in London. She was from the North. At least 30% cheaper to live up there.

The interviewer then moved on to her tatooed husband and asked him why he did not find work. He said he HAD looked for work, but that he had worked out that he would ONLY be £10 a week better off. Well HE might be only £10 a week better off. But the state would be about £250 a week better off. And this is exactly what's wrong with the welfare system. It discourages work amongst those who are able to perform some. His silly lardy wife who wonders why she and all her friends have had so many children should look no further. The answer is two fold. Firstly, if you have kids apparently the state is more than happy to pay for them - thus storing up future trouble. Second - if you aint working you don't have much to do most of the day apart from fucking. Had I been made Prime Minister my first universally popular policy would be to say "Never mind what has gone before, if you are currently unemployed and choose to have more than two kids, then go ahead. But you won't get a penny from us". Billions saved.

In fact, in summary this is my revised manifesto:


1.  Child Benefit - for new births we will pay for a maximum of two. If you have three and your cheap house is no longer sufficient we will be only to pleased to point you in the direction of a reasonably priced shed.

2.  Means tested child benefit. Osborne said it would be "Too costly" to set up a department to means test this benefit. Fucking bollocks. The IRS already knows what you earn. Just link the tax system to the benefit system and say that anyone earning over £50k a year can't have the benefit. The middle class can bleat all they like, but they will just have to buy cheaper wine or knock off a few cable channels. Easy as fucking piss.

3.  Winter Fuel Allowance - My mother gets this lovely £250 lump sum every year. By her own admission she spends this on Christmas presents. She is still working AND drawing two pensions and could quite easily manage without it. So get rid of it for working pensioners. Absolute waste of fucking money.

4. Our bank investment - currently worth in excess of £25billion seems to have been completely omitted from the government figures. Whilst I am not averse to holding the banks by the bollocks for as long as possible, Osborne should have written this off his defecit projection since it clearly has a massive influence on the need to reduce spending - just so long as they don't spend it on lardy work dodgers.

In other news I see that the latest version of the iPhone is causing problems related to reception. Apparently keeping thumb on the left hand bottom of the device can cause signal degradation. This is causing great consternation amongst all those iPhone users who feel the need to constantly search Google Maps to reassure themselves that they are in the same bar they have been drinking in for fifteen years. Purists of the iPhone are up in arms (or down in thumbs), but there is apparently a real take up amongst people with metal prosthetic arms. Apparently, they have never had it so good. for the rest of you, I can only suggest, if you cannot avoid using your left finger on the bottom of this shiny Tesco available status symbol, that you try this for added reception. Apparently Videoforjustme.com has never loaded faster.  Plus it would get you out a bit more.

xxx

Weekly Round Up

Well aint it been a great week for news. Political excitement galore as it turns out that neither manifesto of either coalition party was as urgent and desperately needed as we were led to believe. The dangerous £6bn of cuts the Tories wanted, previously lambasted as dangerous by the Lib Dems are now prudent. The illegal Immigrant amnesty proposed by the Lib Dems has transformed itself into the "Fuck Off Johnny Foreigner, We Don't Want Your Sort Here" policy. So no shift of position there then. All seems a bit fishy to me. Clearly Clegg and Cameron are very good at blowjobs

Haig and Clegg also seem to be getting on like a house on fire. Just as well since in these austere times there are not enough grace and favour houses to go round. Cameron gets Chequers of course,whilst Haig and Clegg are forced to share the humble Kent abode which is Chevening. At a miserly 155 rooms,they will be adopting the Ryanairesque policy of one piece of hand luggage per person. Poor fuckers. Mind you, as someone who's bathroom is so small I have to hold my toothbrush horizontally to brush my teeth, I am rather sparing with my sympathy.

Much more deserving is the woman in the paper earlier this week discussing her tendancy, whilst walking her dog, to pick up her its shit and place it in her coat, only for it to be found several days later, amongst the other poopy bags she has accumulated. In the same article she was also informing us all about her house full of stuff she could not bare to throw out. Describing herself as a "compulsive hoarder",she was quoted as saying that, she was coping well with her hoarding and was "probably on the right side of obsessive". Well, far be it from me to suggest otherwise, and certainly not claiming to be a medical man, but I would say any middle aged biddy who fills her coat pockets with her dog's shit, is probably well advised to count any compulsion to hoard, as amongst the least of her problems. This is what happens to women with a good disposable income who can afford dry cleaning. Dirty bitch.

Inflation is up again. A large part of the reason is apparently due to the rises in the price of food as "supermarkets fight to restore their shattered profit margins". This the same week as Sainsbury's announce a 15% growth in their profits and the best year ever. It seems the shattered profit margins have recovered about as quickly as Citibank's balance sheet. Lying, money grabbing fuckers. With such excellent profits, I suspect most of it has been generated by the increase in the price of tinned sweetcorn, which has gone up by 10 pence a can, at the same time the can has reduced in size by 25%. Still all this can easily be offset by the fabulous half price wine deals at the moment. My favourite wine is down from £9.99 to £4.99 at the moment which, as the stickers excitedly inform me is less than half price. However, since this is my favourite wine, I happen to know that this wine has been on sale for the last two years at £6.99, so a reduction to £4.99 suddenly does not seem quite so enticing. Apparently, in the small print in plain and striking half point type the wine was sold at the higher price in selected stores for a period of not less than 14 days. Again, reality twisting, lying fuckers. I am convinced that somewhere in the UK there is a single Sainsburys that only stocks about 12 products, all at shockingly high prices and which is open between the hours of 2am and one minute past 2am, so they can get away with this bollocks. If I was Prime Minister this would be top of my list. Well, once I have sorted out the economy and worked out a way to legally muzzle Vannessa Feltz.

It was reported on Monday that Conrad Murray, who some of you may know better as the Doctor who definitely did not have anything to do with Michael Jackson's death, saved the life of a airline passenger who fainted at 30,000 feet, using nothing more than the basic equipment on the plane. When she regained consciousness he introduced himself by saying "You probably know me: I was Michael Jackson 's doctor". At which point she had a massive heart attack and died (possibly not). The Metro stated "The woman,who had been released from hospital, said she woke up to see Doctor Murray standing over her". Which is more than can be said of Michael Jackson.

This Is Why Yahoo Is Shit

On page one no less. You would think that at least there would be "There's only one way to steam carrots, iron shirts, win over a small child" etc. But no, Yahoo pretty much takes you straight to the sex toys. Presumably this makes Yahoo users wankers. Of course, it might turn out that Calibex is just one of those price comparison sites, but what are the chances of that?

Its been a pretty quiet week really. The rumour is that Ian Duncan Smith has appointed Philippa Stroud to be his special advisor. You might not have heard of this woman. She is mainly latterly famous for being attached to a church run by her husband who seems to believe you can cure people of homosexuality by praying over them.

She could certainly have cured me of heterosexuality. She's beyond horsey. She looks like God made her from the bits left over when he made Camilla. That or a transexual who's surgeon found out the cheque had bounced half way through the operation. Anyway, an early example of The Conservative Party showing their true colours now they have got their feet under the table. They'll be inviting Nick Griffin in next to advise on community relations.

BBC Transcript Of My election Night Speech

Copyright BBC NEWS 2010.

Please note that, due to the live nature of this recording accuracy of content cannot be guaranteed.

[waits for applause to die down]

Thank you. Thank you. Now shut the fuck up. That means you, bitch. I just wanted to say thank you for all of you who voted for me. As you know, I was a latecomer to this election and, as a result, was not able to add my name to the ballot. Instead I implored you to just scratch my name in at the bottom in the certain hope that this would still count. Over 14,000 spoilt ballot papers suggest that many of you did just that. Since a Tory election majority would have been achieved with a mere 12,000 additional votes in key areas, I feel like I have accomplished something. It's not every day a humble servant of the people, such as myself, gets the opportunity to stick two fingers up the self rigteous arse of that twat Cameron.

At the time of writing Gordon has done the right thing for the country and indicated he is to resign. Hopefully this will pave the way for a Labour Lib Dem Pact and enable labour to continue to hold the balance of power. It makes me proud of our democracy where a party which came second, and even with the promise of a Liberal democrat coalition still has a minority of seats, can continue to govern.

I have offered my services in any future government, but despite several phone calls I have yet to succeed in getting further than speaking to a very nice police officer who told me in no uncertain terms he knew where I lived and had a very large truncheon which he knew what to do with. More fool him though, because when I made those phone calls I was actually in my next door neighbour's house. Hello Doris - I've borrowed your lawnmower, by the way.

[force tears out for impact and look into the middle distance wistfully]

But it is no point crying over what is not, nor of pondering on what great things we might have achieved together. Our time, is now over. Our memories, cherished, but already fading. We must face an uncertain future together. We must face it, not only with great courage and fortitude, but also with great quantities of cheap booze. Booze makes everything better. Vanessa Feltz, for instance, becomes less annoying with every glass.

In closing I would just like to say how fortunate I was in that I had my lovely beard to support me during the tough times. And it is to Colin, fuck, I mean Sarah, that I owe the most thanks. I am now going back to my home to prepare to pack. Does anyone have any boxes?

My Election Manifesto

Dear voters,

It has come to my attention that you want change. Not change for the sake of change, or change you can believe in, or change you can't believe in for that matter. I offer a very real alternative to the current staid fare on offer. And I hope that I can count on your vote this coming Thursday. Although not on any ballot I am hoping you might just scribble my name on the bottom. I am reliably informed by my mate Carl that these will count.

I make no apologies for saying my manifesto requires some tough choices. We are facing a budget deficit higher than we have ever known in peacetime, and have not even got a humbled ruined country to show for it - although I accept there are plenty of proud ruined ones.

My basic premise is to get people who can afford to pay for it to pay the most. Well, all of it actually. Those who can't afford to directly pay for it will be asked to make sacrifices of a different kind. More of that later, in the small print.

HEADLINE PROMISES

A Brighter Tomorrow

An end to energy saving lightbulbs will easily achieve this.

A Better Future

This classic Bowie track from the acclaimed Heathen album from 2002 free to all.

Vouchers For Schools

Collect 25 pot noodle lids and get a free school in a sink hole estate.

Free Cat Food For The Elderly

Not only a welcome benefit but will also stop them clogging up buses since that is about the only reason they have to go out making going to work a much more pleasurable experience for the rest of us contributing members of society.

Free Chinese Language Tuition For All

Which we will be needing when I get rid of, not only Polaris, but also all conventional forces as well.

Restoration of Hoodies

A much needed rebalancing of fashion against the security needs of vulnerable people. Children instead will be banned, which seems a much more sensible idea to me.

The Banning Of Arses hanging Out of baggy Jeans

Nuff Said.

Criminalising Making Claims Against Councils For Tripping Over Paving Stones Cause You Were Too Busy Texting Your Stupid Fucking Mates Instead Of Looking Where You Were Fucking Going

Banning Vanessa Feltz


THE SMALL PRINT

Clearly there are cost implications to these proposals and I do not want to shy away from being honest with you. So here is how I plan to pay for the manifesto proposals, as well as driving down the deficit to zero in just 12 months.

CHARGING EACH PERSON WHO TWEETED DAVID CAMERON IS A CUNT £1

Should raise around £2bn - mostly from Phillip Marshall!

CHARGING THE BBC £1 EACH TIME ONE OF THEIR REPORTERS ASKS A STUPID QUESTION

Should raise around £500 million annually

SELLING WALES

Should raise a useful million. £2 million if we throw in Shirley Bassey who has a few good years left in her.

CHARING MURDOCH £1 FOR EACH COPY OF THE SUN HE SELLS TO RACISTS, BIGOTS AND NUMPTIES

Conservatively £1.6 billion a year

TAXING UNDERAGE MOTHERS

Will bring in £4bn a year - mainly from Swindon.

MOTHBALLING THE NHS FOR 12 MONTHS

No treatment of any kind. All employees to be kept on and issued with scrubbing brushes. The predicted 150,000 of people who die in the year as a result more than offset by the dramtic reductions in deaths from bacterial related infections in following five years. Should save £35bn. The added benefits of not having to pay pensions and disability benefits will add another £8 billion.

TAXING SUPERMARKETS FOR EACH EMPLOYEE THEY HIRE WHO IS UNABLE TO SELL ALCOHOL BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO FUCKING YOUNG.

Should raise £2bn annually from Sainsburys alone

TAXING EACH IPHONE/IPAD USER FOR THEIR CONTRIBUTION TO GLOBAL WARMING FOR CONSTANTLY TWEETING HOW FUCKING BRILLIANT THESE DEVICES ARE

Around £500 million per year

A POUND FOR POUND LEVY FOR EACH COMPANY WHO CAN AFFORD TO MAKE GOOD THE PENSION FUNDS OF THEIR EMPLOYEES BUT CHOOSES NOT TO

That's a billion fron Tesco's alone

TAXING PEOPLE WHO CHOOSE TO NAME THEIR CHILDREN USING INCORRECT SPELLING

A cool £4 billion from Croydon and Essex folk alone. (Sorry to all the Shantells out there).



HANGING ON TO THE SHARES WE HAVE IN UK BANKS FOR EVER

Huge divends to be had there

ASKING BILL GATES FOR THE REST OR BANNING WINDOWS FROM THE UK AND MAKING LINUX COMPULSORY

Should just about make up the rest.

THE CLOSING PITCH

Some people say that a vote for me is a wasted vote. Well I say vote with your heart and not with your head. Look where common sense has got us so far! It's got to be worth a punt. I confidently look forward to your affirmation of my sensible and moderate policies this coming Thursday. I thank you for your attention in this matter. Please vote for me, or I'll come and shit in your living room. I will!

Weekly Round-Up

Well, hello again. Have to say not much rounding up to be done. Firstly, I've been far too busy and important to read newspapers, and secondly I'm so wound up by David Cameron's smug countenence that its hard to find much humour in anything much.

There was an absolutely horrific car crash reported in the news a few days ago. Some guy killed whilst being pursued by the police. The police were unable to provide details as to the circumstances of the crash that resulted in the death of a young man. However, they were able to reassure the public that the police car was undamaged. So that's all right then.

In other news I see that a teacher is currently on trial for GBH after fracturing the skull of some 14 year old boy in his class. I honestly don't know what the world is coming too, whereby a hard working, dedicated teacher can be on trial for his very liberty, just for picking up a 6lb dumbell and bludgening a child with it. It's health and safety gone mad. Joking apart, clearly this is over the top behaviour. However, I can't help wondering what kind of little bastards this teacher was being expected to deal with that resulted in such a breakdown. It would appear, from the details available, that this child was an absolute shit to teach - and I lay the blame fairly and squarely at the door of his parents and a weak society that has allowed all the authority schools once had to be taken away. These little cunts will be paying my pension one day. Its a sobering thought.

Anyway, the last debate was a bit of a come down. A bit disappointed by the lack of detail shown by any of the parties when it came to explaining how they would actually get the defecit down. Its all very confusing - especially since they now talk of two defecits, structural and cumulative. And I'm sick to death of Gordon "Double Dip Recession" Brown mentioning it in every second sentence. Its one of those phrases that have been bandied about so much lately, and similar to those things you used to hear at school and agree with knowingly, not having the guts to admit that you didn't know what it meant. Double Dipping to me means sticking some celery in the humous and licking it off before sticking the same bit of celery back in the humous. Surely it can't mean that? OR COULD IT? I think we should be told.

Clegg's support actually looks pretty solid and I really would like to see him surprise everyone and have his party win. He does seem like a breath of fresh air and I think the country could do with that. I also think he has the biggest wanger and in a toss up (pardon the pun) between him and Gordon I think he would win. Its probably not the best way to vote for a political party, but its not the worst way by a long chalk. In any case, I only ever employ this tactic on extremely rare occasions when I am torn between two parties. And the last time was way back when I voted for Thatcher. She always seemed to have a much bigger cock than Neil Kinnock. Besides, he was a ginger.

If for no other reason I would like to see Clegg come out on top (again pardon the pun) because of the truly shocking hatchet job the Telegraph did on him at the beginning of last week. A totally shameless piece and an example of grubby journalism at its best. Its a sign of how worried the establishment are that they roll out the big guns at the first sniff of anything that upsets the status quo. Mind you, the effects of this were somewhat offset by the truly abysmal performance of that addled Hack For Hire Anne Leslie's appearance on Question Time last Thursday. She really was unprepared and looked like she had based all her answers on that mornings Metro. Silly old cow.

The Guardian had a very obvious article in their weekend magazine last week. They had interviewed loads of politicians asking them about their favourite films, books etc. All very tedious. Everyone had these "choices" which you could just see had been given to them by their advisors to trot out. Not one Jackie Collins or Carry On Film amongst them. It got even worse when they were asked who was the living person they most admire. Every single one of them said Nelson Mandella. Now, I'm not saying he is not someone to be admired. But you would think statistically, out of the 60 odd they interviewed at least one of them might have said Jordan. Lembit Opik at the very least. But no. Nelson Mandella it was.

Currently we are searching for a cat to replace our Sammy. We're looking through the available Adoption Agency sites for poor abandoned kitties. Its not easy. We want all of them! Its a case where more choice is definitely less! Currently in the running is a 12 year old cat called George with some medical issues and a few others. I'll keep you posted.

And that's about it. I'm enjoying the Goldmann Sachs debacle at the moment but shall wait and see how things develop before commenting. Suffice to say I have been inspired to put my house on the market at an incredibly reasonable price and am currently inviting sealed bids. I don't actually have a house to sell, but that's apparently the risk you take. Anyway, send all your cheques to me at the usual address.

I leave you with a link to the best facebook site ever. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Weekly Round Up

Been a bit of a bad week when it comes to finding silly stories to rip the piss out of. I suppose the election has something to do with it. Was massively impressed that the first debate got over 10 million viewers. That's fabulous for a political programme and, I am sure, probably the best ever figures for such a debate. I see that cunt Piers Morgan is gloating about Britain's Got talent getting more viewers. Well, that just shows what a facile turd he is. Compare the raw debate of the issues with its 10 million+ viewers with his interviews with the great and the good (Gordon Brown, Jordan, etc) and I think you will see where his cynicism lies. Piers is a dish best served......well not served at all really. But, if we have to endure his smug countenance, let it be sandwiched between a dog juggling a spoon and Amanda Holden trying out her latest Croydon Facelift, or something. I was in Central Park a few years ago and he was there amongst the "celebrities" charging $20 for a horse drawn cab ride in the name of charity - or "getting my name out there", as I suspect it more accurately could be described. I was there for an hour and he didn't get a single offer. Although many people asked who he was, when they found out, they decided to keep their money. Children died that day because of him ....possibly. I enclose a picture of his glum, lard stuffed face for your delectation. feel free to abuse and degrade the image for which I guarantee I own the copyright.

Talking of the debates though I am really looking forward to the one tomorrow. Clegg did incredibly well in the first debate, but expectations were low. It will be good to see how he handles himself in the second one. Because, if he does well this time then I think Britain is in for the biggest political upset since, well I can't even remember. I'm not really a hedging person, but I think the clever money is on him to win outright. With an each way bet on Cameron and Brown disappearing up their own backsides, and a hundred to one shot for a nation of deluded tories voting for Thatcher chucking her hat into the ring - if she can find it.

I see the blame game has started early with the post fly ban analysis. A bit pathetic really. It appears that this cloud was lingering at 20-30 thousand feet. So, why could an accomodation not be made for planes to use military and light aircraft designated airspace at lower levels to fly to at least pick people up? Because the airlines would have had to use more heavily discounted fuel that way. It COULD have been possible. Nobody has asked if the Air Force were still maintaining their AWACS presence over Europe. I bet they were. All seems a bit fishy to me. And that useless Brown just keeps saying "We have two more ships on standby in case they are needed". Well, Duh! They are fucking needed, since people are now more stuck than they were the first time you said you had these ships on standby in case they were needed. You just don't want to pay for the extra fuel now your weird eyebrowed chancellor has put the cost of fuel up. All it would have taken was a bit of wherewithall to make it happen. You pick up the phone, find out which private companies have spare buses lying around, you ship them over to Europe on one of those expensive transport carriers we have all paid for and which never get used, and you arrange strategic pick up points to collect these people and you get them to the ships. Easy, relatively cheap, and a fucking vote winner to rival Thatcher's Falklands. How great would that have been to appear on the debate tomorrow having put that in place? If John Snow's son can collar a pile of glorified rubber dingies and sail over to Calias to collect as many people as he can, surely to God, our Prime Minister could come up with something at least as good. I swear to God, the man is an idiot. Alistair Campbell is clearly in the twilight of his years to have missed that one. If, by some remote chance, Labour Execs are reading this drivel, please be on notice that my fee is a mere £100k per year for this priceless advice. I'll forsake the lovely car, having no driving licence to speak of.

I met up with the friend I have known the longest tonight. I've known him for 22 years - more than half of my life (although not his!). Was a terrific time, but although we had 5 hours to chat, it was nowhere near enough. Friends are important and we should all see ours more, I reckon. We spent the evening drinking and dining (despite the lack of cutlery). I get very annoyed with these new restaurants that think it is ok to charge you extra for those riddiculous fripperies such as vegetables and potatoes that, 20 years ago, you could reasonably expect to have served with your meal. Snobby, money grabbing fuckers. I don't mind paying £18.95p for a seabass. I do fucking mind paying an extra £3.00p for some cold green beans. AND my Seabass was upside down. In my day fish was served flesh up. I don't want to pay £18.95p for a a big plate with a small piece of fish, skin side up, staring up at me, saying "Can you see my bottom?". On pointing this out it was suggested that it is because they feel I would like to remove the skin myself? Perhaps they would like me to go into the kitchen and cook the fucking thing myself as well? If you follow that train of thought to its logical conclusion, perhaps I would enjoy going to the service counter and collecting my own bucket of water with which to flush away my ablutions when I go for a piss? They could even charge me £3 for the bucket. Actually, forget all that, I'll just go to Waitrose, buy the fucking fish, cook it myself and just send them a cheque. They can then stick that cheque up their smug superior bottoms. The wine was nice though. Tempranillio of some distinct vintage.

I'm off work for the next two days and looking forward to having a lovely potter, mowing the lawn, replacing plug sockets and yelling at Vanessa Feltz, when she does that smug promo for her sad radio show on breakfast tv, whilst trying hard to keep her capacious backside on the largest chair they could find for her. I hate that inane woman more than words can express.

Anyway, its been lovely ranting at you all! Could I just say that if a few of you could just get Google accounts, never to use them again, you could actually comment on my posts and, perhaps, even dare to disagree with me!

Huggles.

xxx

The Weekly News Round Up

Well not so much of a weekly round up, or even a fortnightly one. More a case of random ramblings of things that have made me chuckle since I last posted.

First up - those two old biddies who tried to wheel a dead father through Check In to (allegedly, I might add), avoid the £2000 fee for shipping the stiff back to the country of origin. I say fair play to them. Can't blame 'em for trying. If only they had elected to fly RyanAir instead of Easyjet. At RyanAir check-in they probably expect a reasonable proportion of their cattlelike clientel to have passed over to the other side after giving up hope for their long delayed plane to have arrived. As such they would not have batted an eyelid as they hoisted him on to the plane. Mind you, they would probably have charged him a pound for "leakage".

Second up - I see there is a big diplomatic row brewing as the Pope shortly starts his visit to Malta. Apparently all because of some huge statue of a cock which is erected (pardon the pun) somewhere along his route of travel. Well, excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but I would have thought someone of the Catholic priest persuasion is, statistically, a lot more likely to have come across (again, pardon the pun) more dicks than the average passerby. Although, given similar age demongraphic statistics, I suppose its rare that he has come across one so well developed before. now, if it was a vagina, then that would be a different matter. I want to say, in my defence, that I'm only laboring this point on account of that silly fucker Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone who claimed that there was no link between peadophilia and celibacy, whereas there is apparently a strong like between homosexuality and peadophilia. Well, clearly, in the case of the former there isn't. Because if you are celibate, by definition, it means that you don't have sex full stop. As for the latter, if it suggests anything, it suggests that men forced to repress sexual urges are more likely to have sex with anything than if they were able to express their sexual side in the way that God intended. In fact, the Catholic Church's own research has found that when priests do have sex, 60% of them do it with boys. Although, on the upside, the same research found out that in only 10% of cases was this found to be sex with boys in the strictest sense. The rest was just with teenagers. So, that's alright then. Stupid, denying wanker. Anyway, it seems to me that having admitted that priests are sleeping with teenagers at the very least, it suggests that EITHER they are doing it because they are celibate OR because they are closet cases. Either way he's a cunt. As a gay man I don't know of a single gay man who is or has been involved in anything approaching the behaviour demonstrated by so many priests. I wonder if he can say the same?

In slightly related news today I see The Sun had a headline stating "Peado Heaven On Our High Street" - which does not sound like a business with a long term future - especially when even Starbucks and MacDonalds are struggling to cling on in many locations. On the other hand, maybe there are a lot of Catholic Priests in the area. Actually it turns out that its about Primark selling padded swimtops to seven year old girls. Well, firstly, most seven year old girls don't have the money. And those that do have more taste. These swimtops were bought by their parents FOR their seven year old children, which says more about the parents than it does about the store that sold them. In any case, most children are so fat at seven these days, they don't need to pad their swimsuits in the first place. Where is the outcry about that disgraceful state of affairs. Nowhere to be seen is where.

In completely non-related news I see this massive death cloud of volcanic ash has now grounded all flights in and out of the UK. Apparently the risk of the ash getting into the engines and stalling them is too great to take the risk. Fair enough. But where was the notice? Apparently the Met Office has been monitoring this death cloud for a week. Well lovely for them. They might have fucking well mentioned it. Wednesday lots of flights. Thursday, fuck all flights. No wonder we have no faith in the weather forcast if they can't even spot a cloud of imminent doom on the horizon. All over the country people are calling their insurance agents asking if they have death cloud cover - the answer to which is no. Apparently, its an act of God. Well, that might be true, but airlines still selling tickets for flights they were aware could be cancelled due to this cloud, counts as an act of greed.

I'm sure there was other ramblings I wanted to get off my chest, but I can't remember for the life of me what they were. I can only blame the death cloud. I'm sneezing like a bastard. So, on that note I'm off.

My First Grown Up Post!

I was at work on Saturday and had to go and oversee the crowd control management at Upton Park as West Ham (who I am reliably told are a football team) were playing at home against another team, who's name escapes me, but which I am sure had a "u" in it.

Managing crowds is never easy at the best of times, and certainly not in the piss poor access station that is Upton Park. I must say the fans took defeat very well and didn't seem to mind queuing in the pouring rain waiting to be shepherded into an entrance that would struggle to accomodate Kate Moss after a heavy meal. I suppose these West Ham fans have to be stoic - since they are apparently not doing a lot of winning lately. Perhaps the hour queue in the rain was just what they needed to reflect on why they made the trip out in the first place. They lost two nil the match before as well. Its never a good sign when the fans start arriving back at the station when there is still 25 minutes to go. They were clearly not confident of some dazzling footballer pulling something magical out of the bag. See, if it was me, I'd be hanging in there til the bitter end. I do the same thing at concerts. I am always ten percent convinced that the band are gonna come back on and do one last song. I remain convinced until the place is empty and I have double checked that the cleaner is not the lead singer in disguise.

I get very confused about all these football teams and why they resolutely refuse to play where the team name implies they should. Arsenal have their ground in Highbury. West Ham play at Upton Park, Fulham play at Putney Bridge and Chelsea play at Fulham. If I was in charge of the football league that would be one of the first things I sorted out. For that reason alone its probably best that I am not in charge.

After my valiant and unceasing efforts to propel My Luminaries a few more places up the chart it is incredibly frustrating to find that I can't find any chart information online. Its like a state secret or something - and certainly better protected than most state secrets. You never hear about some worker from Music Week leaving their laptop on the train.

I did find out that I could have unfettered access to all the chart information I could possibly want - provided I subscribe to Music Week for the princely sum of £225 per year. Fuck me. I love the band, but I draw the line at that.

I was watching the first of the political 3 party debates on the television this evening. I was expecting great things but was left disappointed. It was not civilised as such, just boring. I still think Darling is the best person to get us out of the mess we are apparently in. He needs a slogan though. I was thinking "How can you trust a chancellor who DOESN'T have eyebrows a different colour from his hair?" It's not very catchy though.

I've been invited to an interview for my promotion on Thursday. I'm quite excited, although its a little awkward in the office at the moment. You see, the promotion I am applying for would have me in charge of the guys I am currently working alongside. More than that, one of the guys also applied for the position and has not been given an interview. I'm trying to put it in terms of Bowie's use of musicians. Just because a guitarist is not right for a particular album, doesn't mean he can't play. well, unless he's Mark Platti, that is. (Me bad).

So, its a busy week for me, one way or another. Only one day off, which is tomorrow and I am spending most of the day getting my hair done. I'm working on a new style and its taken months to grow it to the required length. I decided, now I've hit 40 I need one of those cool hair styles that detract from the wrinkles but also don't make me look like Tim Westwood - respeck! I'll be buying a porsche next. Well, after I learn to drive, that is.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday are all party days. I'm having a lost weekend kind of thing. Alan is fine with it, provided I am home by midnight each night. Actually on Friday night I am crashing at a friend's house - on a couch! A couch! At my age. I feel 20 all over again. Although, I suspect the next day I will wake up feeling about 55.

Anyway, that's it from me, dear readers. Many thanks for the comments on my last blog. Tonyday is right - I really should reply to them more often. I will endeavour to do just that.

I leave you with news that I found the saddest most pointless badge in the world on the street a few days ago. I can't begin to tell you how lame it is. Its so awful in its pointlessness that I might just post it on e-bay and see if anyone buys it. Its total crap!

xxx

P.S. Actually I think that the team West Ham played on Saturday was Stoke City. So it did not actually have a "U" in it. Unless you count the "U" that was repeatedly heard in the phrase "Fuck you, Stoke!" In which case there were two.

Random Babblings

I've actually been blogging for six years. In the past though I have only blogged through a site which does not allow non-members to comment. Since it was a subscription site this didn't really work that well. My friend Jeffrey, in particular, was very cross that he had no recourse to argue with my often inane ramblings. I love that site though. So I'm gonna carry on posting in it. However, to satisfy my legion of almost 12 regular readers (count 'em slowly, it sounds like more) I'm gonna be posting here formally from now and pasting the posts into the other site. I see that Google are promising me untold riches for allowing adverts into the blog. I am selflessly disregarding the untold pleasures that could come my way from the additional 25 pence per year the untold dozens of clicks could yield. If the ads appear anyway, just know that they are nothing to do with me. Especially the ones for Viagra which seem to be coming my way now I've hit forty. I hope you enjoy my blog. I'm like a junkie really. If you keep on stopping by, I'll just keep on coming back for more.

Many thankings.