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.