I may as well go and try and catch the wind.

It seems that Tiger Woods may be fined for spitting during a golf tournament in Dubai. Isn't that refreshing?

After years and years of watching various sportsman gobbing all over the place, at last one of them may be fined for it.

I would have thought that any field sport such as football or rugby would benefit from not spitting though. I mean, by the end of the match, the game must have slowed down quite considerably by  virtue of the fact that their boots are being glued to the  stringy and very sticky green flob, that they've all gobbed over the pitch during the preceding 80 or 90 minutes.

Of course, to make matters worse it is televised, and with so many eager youngsters all watching their sporting heroes gobbing at every opportunity, it is no wonder that they all try to emulate them. After a while, the entire  child population of Britain has joined in, and in no time at all, and only after a little bit of practice, they can enjoy a certain degree of success with it, but only once they've realised, of course, that the wind plays an intrinsic part to the trajectory that flob takes, and needs to be taken into account in order to avoid wearing any of it.

 Unfortunately, once embarked upon, gobbing usually means gobbing for life, as many  gobbers continue to gob freely at every opportunity, wherever they are and however old they are, which often extends, in many cases, right into their dotage. I often wonder if gobbers ever forget themselves when they are at home. I suspect they do occasionally, especially when they've had a few pints. In fact,  it has been claimed that inebriation can put them back to about the level that they were when they first embarked upon their chosen recreational pursuit. This is because the wind factor and trajectory calculations of flob, are severely compromised due to the influence of drugs or alcohol, and they end up wearing it again. I have actually witnessed this on several occasions outside my shop. In fact if you were to walk up Station road, you will see that the pavements are swimming in flob.

To see extremely talented gobbers then a trip to Station Road in Llanelli is essential, it will be worth it.  The piste de la resistance of a fully fledged gobber is the technique learned when they graduate, and this is usually after many years experience as a standard level gobber. This is the highest level of achievement, it is the supreme accolade, where only  those with at least forty years experience could even think about attempting  it.  This can only be described as the ultimate gobbing technique, although difficult, once perfected, it is proudly added to their very own collection de par excellence. It is of course the one I like to call the one fingered green streamer. This is where an expert high level gobber presses one finger against one nostril and then blows a green stream at least 10 feet in front of him.

They are happily filling the countries streets and appear to be completely oblivious to the effect  they are having on other people. Furthermore, and to add insult to injury, it is me that ends up looking like some kind of a nutter to anyone that happens to be driving past, because I am far too old to be jumping up and down all over Station Road, like some demented  lunatic trying to avoid  all of the flob that is flying about or just trying to avoid walking in  it. Of course, should you turn into Robinson Street, then  you'll find an entirely different, but equally enchanting delight to greet you there.

Now, I don't know who Robinson was, I daresay back in Victorian times he was a fine upstanding pillar of the community, in fact, so much so that they, very rightly, decided to name a street after him, and good for them I say. However, I think that the time has come to rename Robinson St, and change it to something a bit more in keeping with the quaintness of its present day character. I think it should be renamed, Dog Shit Street.

"That must be some story you are reading in that Beano son"

 You know sometimes you get trapped in strange environments that you can't easily escape from, such as a doctor's or dentist's waiting room, or any waiting room come to that. And without exception they always have magazines to read that you could never imagine anyone wanting to buy, not even on their most miserable day. Somehow, waiting rooms up and down the country all contain these magazines. How does that happen, are all the magazines that are never sold all collected and divvied up and then sent to every waiting room across the land?  It is always mind numbingly boring waiting in a waiting room and for some reason it seems the desire of every doctor, dentist, solicitor or anyone that has a waiting room to bore you into some kind of stupor before you actually get to see whoever it was you an appointment with. It's probably a bid on their part to make them appear far more interesting than they really are. Apart from the dentist of course, as they have their very own form of both mental and physical torture, nicely wrapped in their very own perverse and sadistic way.

It hasn't always been like that though, in fact there was one waiting room I didn't have a problem with. When I was a young boy I used to quite enjoy waiting in the barber's waiting room, not because I particularly liked having my haircut, in fact I hated that part of the experience, no, it was because when he wasn't looking I could sneak a copy of playboy or some other mens mag inside a copy of the beano and pretend I was reading that. (For any ex Luanshya ites that have stumbled onto this, then you'll know it was Shorties Barber shop in town)

Anyway the point I am struggling to get to is, I was in one of these waiting rooms and the magazine that I had the misfortune of picking up was the June 2010 edition of "Top Sante" I'd never heard of it before or since, I'm sure it is a fine magazine but not my cup of tea. I suspect it is one for the fairer sex by the look of it.  Anyway, as I've just mentioned I picked it up, as boredom had got the better of me. I then saw an article which turned out to be one of those infomercials. A full page advert in the theme of a news item. The were advertising a slimming capsule that soaks up fat going by the name of Xipisan. The very first line which, in their wisdom, they decided to use as a hook, read, and I quote.

"Have you ever wondered why sea animals never get fat?"

Now call me a sceptical old git but I do have to take issue with that sentence. Which sea animal did they have in mind when they wrote that? Do you think it was the very wispy walrus, or maybe the slinky sea lion, or could they be referring to the slender seal or maybe even the ever so wiry whale. Not an ounce of fat on any of those little keep fit sea urchins is there?

Surely if they had meant fish they would have said fish wouldn't they? Probably not. Does anyone think they work, I wonder?

Look No Hands

I don't want to put anyone off their sarnies or anything but I have had a bit of a problem  with my kidneys of late. A few months back I passed some blood in my urine. Now I don't know about you but when something like that happens to me my first instinct is  to head straight for Google. Later that night when I realised I only had seconds left to live and that I had every symptom for every renal problem that has ever existed and I'd even began considering making a video that could be played at my funeral, so that instead of a vicar, they could have me and I could star in my own show.....

Eventually, the old boiler pushed me into going to the doctors and after 10 seconds my worst fears were realised, I was going to be sent to the hospital where I had to see a renal consultant.

The months that followed were dark and miserable and as the symptoms persisted I began  to accept the inevitable. However, as more time passed my symptoms seemed to clear up and then I began thinking that maybe Google had got it wrong after all. Maybe I didn't need to see a renal consultant at all. Maybe I had cured myself. Then the letter arrived for my consultant appointment. I felt a little deflated when it arrived....I was really hoping that they had forgotten about me.

Anyway, off I went to the consultant who then told me that I would have to come back for a set of special tests in the day care centre. This is where it all started to get a bit worrying because one of the tests was to send a Magic eye up my willy......

I now have some idea of how condemned men feel when they are awaiting their day of execution.

The hospital had supplied me with a list of the things that I needed to have and I  dutifully reported to the day centre as arranged on my appointment letter. I was packed off to the x ray department first. I had an x-ray  done which was pretty painless as I didn't feel a thing, I thought I was pretty brave during my time in the x -ray department.

Then they sent me to have an ultrasound scan. When I got there I explained to the receptionist that I didn't  really think I was pregnant.......She scowled at me, as if to say, "I haven't heard that one for at least 15 seconds." Still I didn't let that worry me and off I went into the room where the ultrasound scanner lives. There was young man operating the machine for this particular procedure, as they like to call them these days, (That term probably comes from watching too much ER or some other American imported TV medical show.) Anyway to explain what it is very briefly, they smear all this gunk on the ultrasound sensor and  then rub it all over your belly. After ten minutes  of doing that he stopped and then with a concerned look in his eyes, said, "I need to go and get someone to check these results," and off he trotted......
Immediately, I was left wondering what  was it  he had found that needed his boss to come and check the results. For those few minutes I was scared out of my wits and all my old Google search diagnostic results all came flooding back into my mind.

A few minutes later a lady came in and repeated some of what the first chap had done.  Between them, they agreed on the findings which amounted to nothing. I was relieved it has to be said but what a way to put the shits up someone. I mentioned to him that he had scared the living daylights out of me and then he explained that he'd only been doing this job for 2 months so he had to have all of his results verified.

After I managed to get over that I was then marched off to the day centre again.  When I got there they sent me into the cystoscopy waiting area. Notice I have now learned  the correct term for having the magic eye up your willy.

This is where things really started to take a bad turn for the worse. I was given one of those hospital gowns that all hospitals have. What possible reason could there be, to insist that I and everyone else should wander around Llanelli hospital with our arses  hanging out the back of those gowns? Is there someone hiding in a corner  somewhere taking pictures of everyone unfortunate enough to have to wear one. Do all the hospital  staff hang them up at their Christmas parties and laugh their socks off? What kind of sadistic person could have dreamed those up and then go on to make them part of everyday use in every single hospital  throughout the country.? You really have to hand it to the guy, whoever he was, his joke must have provided years of entertainment for him.

After a while, and with the thought of what was about to happen to me weighing very heavily on my mind, a nurse came out and asked me my name and then she checked with another nurse to make sure that I knew what my name and address was. I'm not sure what that was in aid of. Possibly, being feeble minded may have precluded me from having a cystoscopy. Next time I'll say I haven't got a clue who I am.

As I was dragged off along the corridor, which led to the room which contained the source of  all  my dread  over the past few weeks, and being half faint from sheer terror of what was about to happen, I was introduced to another nurse, and as she turned around, the blood drained from my face. It was a girl that I had employed many years previously as a secretary in my business.

After the initial shock that I was about to expose myself to my old secretary, and although that may be a common occurrence in many cases, it was never part of the contractual obligations that we had negotiated all those years ago. So I said "Hello, how are you" I then stammered "Well this is embarrassing." I realised this was going to be pay back time for her and mentioned it as a sort of half hearted joke. I didn't really feel like attempting humour at that time but she very decently  said that I had been a really nice boss. That made me feel a bit better, and then she said that she'd get another nurse to save my embarrassment and took off to find a stand in.

Anyway, the dreaded moment had arrived and then it finally dawned on me just exactly what the hospital gowns were for. They don't have any medical use at all. they aren't a necessary part of  any form of operation or procedure. No, the reason for those gowns is to strip you entirely of any sense of dignity whatsoever long before you hit the table. By that time there isn't much more they can do to you to make you feel  any worse. They are designed purely with the intention of reducing any sense of self worth that you may have had and in to thinking, “There it is, there's my willy, do what you like now, I don't care anymore.” Next thing, someone starts fumbling with it and you realise you do care after all......There is one thing though, there was no way in the world that I could.....no I won't go there.

Anyway, eventually all the team were in place, a doctor and two nurses and with  a gleeful look in their eyes,  they began to get on with the procedure, which in all truthfulness didn't hurt at all. Felt a bit  weird, but didn't  really hurt. Finally, when they removed the magic eye, and it was all over, I breathed a sigh of premature relief.

You know I said that after all that with gown and wandering around the hospital with  your arse hanging out of the back of it, that they couldn't strip you of any more  dignity and your humiliation couldn't get any worse? Well it can, and it did. Apparently, my prostrate gland was enlarged and I had to have a rectal examination of the prostrate gland.

You can imagine, I was absolutely devastated, if I was Julian Cleary I may have been happy  with this stage of the proceedings but I'm not of his particular sexual persuasion and so therefore I was mortified. I don't really want to go into any more detail about this but I have to say that I didn't think it  was very funny when the guy doing the examination , leaned over, waved both his hands at me and said, "Look no hands"

I staggered out of there that day, unable to think properly....Only to learn that I  have to go back for  another  session  in a couple weeks time.

Joking aside, I have to say that the way I was treated by all of the doctors and staff at Prince Phillip Hospital, without exception ,was absolutely first class.

Going for a walk

If some of you have read my blogs from the beginning you will know that I was quite scathing in my remarks when making comparisons with Neanderthal man and a certain element of the local population. I feel that I may have been remiss with my observations and that I have been unduly hard on them. It has occurred to me that they have had an extremely bad press recently and I have to put my own hands up and admit my part in all this, especially when I mentioned that a colony of these Neanderthals  lived just a few yards down the road . Of course I realise the Neanderthal population have, in fact, been extinct for 30,000 years, so I would like to take this opportunity to make a public apology to the memory of the Neanderthal people for making this extremely erroneous and very poor comparison.

I wandered up my road to go to Asda today and within less than a minute I noticed a young man of chav like appearance coming towards me and then he just darted across the road. He didn’t look to see if there was any traffic coming, he just took off across the road. Unluckily, there wasn’t a car coming. When he got to the other side he stopped dead and then, very aggressively, lunged forward with clenched fists, he then head butted the air and screamed “F**k” at the top of his voice. It sort of left me wondering what kind of a drug do you need to be on to get an effect like that.

Anyway, I wandered further up the road and passed the 10,000 pubs on the way where you can see most of the patrons sitting on the pavements outside because they can’t smoke inside anymore.

I’ve now inhaled far more smoke going for a walk, to get a breath of fresh air, than ever I did on the few occasions that I ever went into a smoke filled pub before the smoking ban. I also remember the pavements being a sort of grey colour rather than this speckled beige fag end effect that they have gone for these days.

When I go to Asda on a Saturday afternoon, besides buying the groceries, I often find it very entertaining watching the various episodes of car park road rage, and this afternoon was no exception. Today we had someone who evidently struggled with English, trying to scream some abuse at some other equally half-witted cretin who had nicked the only available parking space. The words pouring out took the form of “You f*****g b*****d f*****g t**t, f*****g f*** f**** f**** f***** it lost the desired effect when he realised that he only knew those particular swearwords in any given 2 minute period, and not having the necessary intelligence to get any more of his point across, decided to take it out on his tyres instead and screamed out of the car park in a puff of blue smoke.

I though I had more to say when I started this but evidently not. There was one other point that struck me as I walked to Asda, and that was; What has gone wrong with a town, where even the charity shops find it necessary to have roller shutters for their security?

Why I was such a good catch, for the romantics among you

Now those that know me can recognise that I'm an old romantic at heart.

On Valentines day I let the old boiler bring me a nice cup of tea in bed. It makes her happy to do that and so why should I spoil it for her. I like to get her to open the curtains so that she can see the plants outside the window which is far more romantic than buying red roses. Chocolates will only make her fatter than she already is, so there is a sort of ban on them.

As far as a card is concerned then I'm happy for her to get me one if she really wants to but I don't buy her one as I always tell her that I don't need to send a card on one day of the year just to tell her I love her.

Many people like to go and enjoy a meal together in some candle lit restaurant but I think that is commercialism gone mad. Instead, I tell her it is far more romantic to get a pre made curry in from ASDA with all the trimmings which she can then prepare and I can wash it down with a few cans of the amber nectar.

Now, I have come to realise that the light emanating from the TV and the flickery effect is very reminiscent of a candle, So watching the football actually adds to the atmosphere of my romantic Valentines evening.

I realise that there are some of you that don't have partners that treat you like mine does me, but it has taken a great deal of time, and this level of devotion comes from years of training. It's not done in five minutes although sometimes you may be tricked in the early days into believing that it will be like that....

For those of you without any partners at all then I don't want to rub it in but it's not always due to your looks. Sometimes it can be your personality that is preventing you from having a partner. Anyway I wish you a nice and happy evening alone. There is no reason why you can't celebrate it by yourself because I know if it was me, I'd only need a mirror for my perfect evening.

Like I said I'm an old romantic at heart and my old boiler wouldn't know what to do without me and so each year Valentines day reminds her of that and just how lucky she is. I don't want to spoil that for her and so I join in with it all and do my bit, just as I have already explained.....So to all you people that dismiss Valentines days as the height of decadent and vulgar commercialism then think again.....

Happy Valentines day.....

Wouldn't it be nice

Every week on GMTV they run a competition where you have to answer a multiple choice question. This week they are asking, "In which city would you hear Big Ben?" They then go on to give you a choice of Paris, London or New York. The prize is, your mortgage paid for a year, £25.000, a brand new mini and  finally, a holiday to Barbados.....You can win the lot.

So anyway, my point is, wouldn't it be nice if just for once they actually gave the answer away so that everyone could have a chance of winning it.

Health issues

After watching one of these healthy eating diet programmes, they advised that you should make sure that you receive proper medical advice before embarking on a new healthy eating regime......????

So what do they think you are going to do? Turn up at your GP's surgery or the accident and emergency dept at the hospital, then wait in the queue with some poor bugger with an axe sticking out of his foot or someone else in a hungover state who is in excruciating pain from impaling there left testicle on a spike whilst trying to do a tightrope act on some garden railings?

Once the yob's have finished beating up the hospital staff, you eventually get to see a doctor and ask....."Ok Doc, so tell me, is it advisable for me to give up my daily pizza, Burger king and Kentucky fried chicken with chips for these healthy portions of 5 vegetables, some skinless chicken and an oily fish.....?"

How come Google doesn't know it's Christmas? You'd think that with all the resources at their disposal they would have twigged it is Christmas time.....

The same Room

I'll be adding to this later on....but a quick thought before I forget.....
You never see Luke Skywalker and Ian Beal in the same room do you?

I know he is dead now but you don't see Danny La Rue and Rita off Corrie in the same room either.

It was only a winter's tale........

This is something I wrote a couple of years ago in answer to someone's suggestion that Christmas should be banned. I've never been one to miss an opportunity, so I'm giving it another airing, but this is the first time this year......probably won't be the last though..............

Do you really want to ban Christmas? This is the time when families reunite, where gifts are exchanged, the air is filled with merriment, the city centres are alive with hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers all dancing to the tune of the Salvation army playing at their gigs outside Marks & Sparks all over the country. A time of goodwill to all men. A pleasant time of year indeed. Your family see each other for the first time in twelve months a joy to behold.

Okay, I know that sometimes a mere twelve months since you last saw certain family members isn't quite long enough but “Hey it's Christmas.”

Okay, and I know people drink a little too much and get a little punchy but “ It's Christmas”...chill out.

Okay, and I know that you spent a fortune on the in-laws present and all you got from them was a pair of socks in return, don't let it bother you, it's the thought that counts and “ It's Christmas.”

Okay, and I know Brother Billy can't hold his drink and he is always sick all over the place......But it's only a little mess and Domestos does the trick but “ It's Christmas.”

Okay, and your giant turkey dinner tastes great doesn't it? You can eat and eat and eat and gorge yourself until you feel like the Michelin man. You stuff yourself until you can no longer move and then top your self up with mince pies and a Toblerone to the point where you feel like throwing up for the next 3 days. Never mind “ It's Christmas.”

Okay, and I know it can be inconvenient when the Grandchildren descend on you and use your stomach as a trampoline and scream and shout because they have got fed up with their £300.00 Sony Play station 17, in five minutes flat and decided that shouting, screaming and fighting is more in keeping with the Christmas spirit. Does it bother you? Only slightly but it’s ok cos' “It's Christmas.”

Okay and talking of Christmas spirit Uncle Fred has single handedly polished off all of your best malt Whiskey but “It's Christmas.”

Okay by the end of the day you are in great discomfort, Your head hurts, You got crappy presents, You feel ill, you can still smell the sick somewhere, which is being intermittently camouflaged due to some peoples digestive systems having difficulty coping with brussel sprouts but “It's Christmas”.......

And then you turn on the telly...The queens speech is in text speak first because that is now the majority language of the nation. Don't worry cos' “It's Christmas”........

Then you change channels just in time to see Noddy Holder scream those immortal words of the worlds all time greatest Christmas song....

"It's Christmaaaaaaaaaaaas"

Well f**k off Noddy and stick your Christmas up your arse........

Yes let's ban Christmas.....Bah Humbug........__________________

Whilst I'm in a good mood, I'll tell you about another event in my life. I was driving down the road today and I could see someone in a silver Renault Clio, pulling up to a junction where they looked left and right, saw me coming and so waited. However, even though they waited they didn't wait until I drove past, no they waited until I was about 5 yards away and then decided to turn left in front of me. They were oblivious to the screeching noise my tyres were making, just as they were to the blue smoke billowing out from my wheel arches. I watched in amazement as they trundled off down the road in front of me and their speed didn't exceed 15 mph.


Eventually, much later than I expected, I got to Halfords, where I wanted to buy a satnav. After being talked at by the twin brother of the Starbucks spotty oik, in one of the previous blogs. I managed to leave Halfords with a Navman satnav. I was assured it was dead simple to operate. I drove home again, keeping a very wary eye out for any silver Clios.

Once I returned home and unwrapped the satnav. I switched it on and a woman’s voice came on and said "Please take the third exit at the roundabout." I thought “Funny”....Anyway I pushed a few buttons, I pleaded with it, I shook it, but whatever I did every minute or so the woman’s voice kept on saying "Please take the third exit at the roundabout" Two hours later I was pretty annoyed and starting to get very irritable. So I succumbed and did that unthinkable thing, that thing that no man can do easily, Yes I’m ashamed to say, I decided to read the instructions.

Unfortunately, and even more annoyingly they didn't supply any instructions, instead I had to go on line to their website. How annoying is that? Anyway, I got on their site I clicked on their support tab just to be greeted with a error503 message, Page cannot be found. After trying to get the web page to work it dawned on me that my internet access was playing up. I tried everything I could think of I thought I found the problem at one stage but no, Eventually and after a long time I finally got to the root of the problem, I could feel the beads of sweat rolling down my forehead as I fired up my computer once again and for the last time. Clicked on to the Internet just to be told I had no internet connection at that precise time the satnav said "Please take the third exit at the roundabout"

The satnav bounced a glancing blow off the radiator before ending up right on the other side of the room. As I looked at it on the floor I could see the light of the screen and I went over to it and it seemed to look defiantly at me and then said "Please take the third exit at the roundabout" So I started jumping on the little bastard which of course completely destroyed it, the screen was all broken, bits of plastic was hanging off. And I thought that will teach you. I picked it up and all its packaging and threw the lot in the bin…….As I turned to walk away I could here a strange muffled sound coming from the bin. I opened the swing lid and it said "Please take the third exit at the roundabout"

Opus Dei

I know, I know........ but it makes me so mad........I have to watch it...It's like that self flagellation thingy that guy did on the Da Vinci Code.......I get some perverse pleasure from seeing such an awful display of all that's bad in our sickening, celebrity culture.

 Lloyd, an X Factor contestant, was croaking away to 'Stand By Me' on Saturday's show, and whilst he was in mid croak the camera cut away to Simon Foul, where he was busy having a conversation with the miniature thug sitting next to him. Isn't that just the height of bad manners in a singing competition.....? They are supposed to be judging him and they are not even listening...What twonks they are, their smug, sanctimonious, egotistical, condescending and supercilious personalities spilling out all over the place.

Eventually, Loyd finished his wailing, and they all slagged him off except for the miniature thug, but that was because the unfortunate Lloyd was stuck with her as his mentor. That must be really difficult, imagine taking singing advice from someone who can't sing in tune and then have to appear to seriously take it in. Anyway, in last week's show, the judges saved Loyd from being booted off. He was in  a sing off with someone who could have given those two singing judges, singing lessons........Now this week, all the judges are saying he is absolute crap and will be lucky to still be in after this performance, so why the hell did they get rid of a much better singer last week.....??

Anyway, Off I went into town today, to get a gizmo that you can put potatoes in one end and chips come out the other. While I was walking along, this very large woman was walking towards me but she couldn't really see where she was going because her hand, a paper bag and a cream doughnut were all in front of her face. With her vision impaired due to her being focused entirely on the doughnut, she walked straight into bench and sent herself flying straight over the top of it. Luckily, she just ended up sprawled over the bench, had some poor bugger been sitting on it, this story would have had a much darker twist. Unfortunately, the doughnut landed on the floor. Well unfortunate that is, if it had been you or me, but with thiswoman it didn't matter a jot, because without wasting a second more than necessary, she quickly found her doughnut, picked it up and with scarcely a glance, stuffed it straight down her throat as if nothing had happened. She was blissfully unaware that half of the doughnut's centre, ie, the cream and the jam was now smeared all over her face. Still she'll have something else to eat next time she looks in the mirror.

Next time you are in town, have a look at the people that eat things as they walk......See if you notice if they all have one thing in common.

Eventually, when I got home after that bit of excitement I tried out my chip thingy, and I have to say it worked really well. All in all I had managed to save at least 5 minutes with that device. I always remember the late, great Dave Allen mentioning people who managed to save time by doing certain things and then went on to tell everyone about it. Dave Allen put forward the question, and asked about what did they do with the time they had just saved? To which the reply came that they had no idea what they had done with the time they had saved. Dave Allen said "I'll tell you what you have done with it. You have bored the arse of everyone else telling them about it."

As I sat down with my chips, I turned on the telly just in time to catch the local HTV News. As the telly came on, there was to my horror, the whole X factor team. The judges, the singers that Dermot guy, everyone, all gawping at the camera, and to make matters even worse they still insist on using a bit of Kashmir for some of their background music.....Does anyone know of a good, all purpose cleaning solvent that removes bits of chips from TV screens and surrounding areas?

It turned out that the girl who was slung off this time was from Wales and her name was Lucy. So in the true TV celebrity, me me me spirit, the local TV News mob , have it in their wit that Lucy being slung off, wasn't fair. So here is the rub, those conniving news hacks have decided to ask their viewers to text them with a message,  to say either yes they think Lucy was wrongly voted off, or no she wasn't. In the small print on the screen which was displayed was that each texts cost 25p each, plus whatever your are normally charged for your texts, except they don't explain it like that. They had written, Calls cost 25p  +std charge. So you have decipher what they mean in the 2 secs it appears for on the screen. So not only are you doing them a service by entering into their survey for the incredibly stupid, but you are actually paying for the privilege. On top of that you also giving them some free money too, as some kind of a little present for them.
The reality is they have sat down and thought, "What can we do today to get the stupid people to give us 25p each."
How do those people sleep at night? How did our society ever turn into to such a money grabbing, conning culture? Everywhere you turn there is legalised villainy which extends from the stench that rises out of Westminster and all their expense scams and God knows what other troughs they have all got their snouts in, right down to some petty con merchant selling you counterfeit goods as real. What's happened to us? What I find so sickening about the TV presenters is the sanctimonious smile that they give you when they are asking you to text or phone. The smiling sweetly, butter wouldn't melt in our mouths look, but we're doing our best to relieve you of some cash in the most surreptitious, devious unscrupulous and underhand way possible, but we hope you don't notice, so here is a nice big cheesy smile just for you. Ya'll come back now, Ya'hear.
I suppose the most sickening aspect is, and they are all complicit in this, is that they purposely pick on the feeble minded, who are really the people that can least afford it.

Having said that, Anyone that sends texts or votes on x factor that may happen to read this, please be aware that I am accepting donations of any amount to keep me in chips.

The 3, not so well known, souls that went up with Apollo 11

This picture has nothing to do with Dick.

Just been watching the discovery channel and a programme about weapons and body armour was showing.

Part of it was all about how certain types of body armour were invented and developed. As it turned out this chap called Richard Davies went out on the very same night that Apollo 11 blasted off from the Kennedy Space Centre back in 1969. Only Richard, or Dick as I like to call him, wasn't going to the moon, no he was out delivering pizzas.

Anyway, on this particular night whilst delivering pizzas, three guys were hiding around the side of the house where Dick was delivering his pizzas and the three men pulled a gun on him........ Next thing you know, young Dick had pulled out his .44 Magnum, ( "The most powerful handgun in the world — and would blow your head clean off,." Quoting Clint Eastwood,) which was hidden from below the pizza, and in his best Eastwood style, blasted the three of them to death........

Now I don't know much about young Dick, and I applaud the fact that he'd got himself a job and was earning an honest living. However, he was out delivering pizzas for Christ's sake! With a .44 Magnum???....You have to wonder what would happen if you didn't have enough cash to pay for the delivery if you ordered one on Dick's shift......As an aside, I bet there were also a lot of misunderstandings about what was bulging in his pocket in his pizza delivering days.

Luckily, most of the gun toting muggers and robbers in Dick's area, didn't like pizzas much. And even more luckily for the pizza business where young Dick worked, was the fact that he left soon after and went on to invent some new form of bullet proof vest.

Ground Breaking News

Some unbelievably sensational breaking news has just been announced on the BBC........

The bar at the absolute pinnacle of journalism has been significantly raised with the ground breaking headline that Wayne and Colleen Rooney have just had a sprog......That was one of the two main headlines.  I just can't believe that. I wish I could just boycott the BBC for doing that, but unfortunately, they are the best there is. All of the other channels are even worse, in fact much worse. The headlines of one of their competitors yesterday were showing Danyl someone or other off the X factor balling his eyes out, saying he can't take much more of this. Well what about me?  I can't take any more of it either......Apparently he sung out of tune. Well he is in good company because the two singing judges, have struggled with their own individual concept of tuning throughout both of their musical careers.

They dragged on Bum Jovi the other day, as what can only be described as some kind of rock tribute act. Except they sung what sounded more like the the B side of an old Marmalade single from the 60's than anything that resembled rock.......I have to say it was pretty awful......Why would Bum Jovi go on the X factor in the first place? Luckily, I never really did like them anyway....One or two of their songs were ok but on the whole they were sh*t. I think they were just a bit on the pretty side and appealed not only to young teenage girls but to females generally. I would like to believe that Bum Jovi were the only rock band that the organisers could get to sell out to the X factor. However, I realise believing that is just a touch naive.

If what's left of Led Zeppelin ever went on there I would be looking for a rope to string my self up with. I've already had a moan about X Factor using Kashmir as background music on a previous blog here, that really pisses me off and I think that Simon Foul is doing it on purpose, just to annoy me.

Another thing is, these X factor people don't really know what rock is. They are the same ilk as those that named that X Box game, "Beatles Rock Band"........What is all that about? Who are these people that haven't got a clue what genre they are actually dealing in? Or are they trying to redefine the genre or just merge it with something else? It's very annoying to me, a bit like all my life I have grown up with the knowledge that Java was flooded by a giant tidal wave caused by a volcanic eruption on Krakatoa in 1883 or thereabouts........Now they have decided to call it a tsunami, it's not a tidal wave anymore. Why is that? Wasn't tidal wave a pretty easily understood term? All of a sudden, about 4 or 5 years ago I was expected to understand some obscure Southern Seas Polynesian language and call it it a tsunami. Well no I don't think I'll do that, I'll just stick to English thank you. Oh yes! and that reminds me, all of a sudden, because they have heard it on American telly, there are lots of youngsters that have decided to omit the letter s from the word maths. I have noticed it to be particularly prevalent among those that haven't actually ever done any.

There is a video of Ronnie Jame Dio where he bangs on about the evils of shows like the X factor and what it's doing to the music industry. He is dead right there is no evolving musical direction  coming from either Britain or America at the moment. It has all become designer music where all the hits are worked out six months before and engineered by the likes of Simon Foul. There is a serious risk of the musical innovation, of which this country has been a major contributor for donkey's years being passed over for a pretty face, half a voice and the lure of instant celebrity. In spite of that knowledge the British public gormlessly pays a pound a throw, every time they vote for their favourite celebrity x factor contestant.

Anyway, I have found the youtube video of Dio's interview, what he says is very true. The first half of the video covers what is mentioned above. click here

The Silent Alarm

About the picture below first.....There is a girl, crying her eyes out, she thinks she has been stood up, can't get a signal on her mobile to get hold of her boyfriend, she is suffering so very badly,  her world is falling apart. Then suddenly he appears, walking briskly towards her, but she hasn't noticed him yet and that is the moment captured above......
The women reading this, are all thinking, "Aaaaahhhhhhhh isn't that lovely."

The men reading this, are all thinking, "Oh sh*t."

Some of you may recall that I am in the process of securing my studio to enable me to hire it out. I have been fitting doors to cupboards that kind of thing, which anyone who embarks on woody type jobs know, that many trips to B & Q are an essential part of the process.

I always walk past the checkouts, of which there are 4, as well as a couple of tills on the service customer desk, and they are always empty, not a customer in sight and with only one or two employees looking bored out of their minds.

I think good, I won't be here long and I shoot off to get the hinge that I forgot to get the last time I was there. That takes me all of about 30 seconds. Now, I have tried entering B & Q in many different ways, I have sneaked in, I have gone in disguise and I have even tried ab sailing down the perimeter fence of the outside garden gnome section, but no matter what time I go there, or whichever way I try, I have yet to succeed in getting in without them knowing about it because in that time, a silent alarm has gone off in the store which has sent an urgent message to all of the customers except me, to run as fast as they can, with their trolleys, that you can't steer without bashing into everything because of the rear steering wheels, to the checkouts.

 I return to what was 30 seconds previously a deserted checkout area, only to find that now there are queues going all the way back up two aisles. On top of that there is only one checkout actually working because where there were two employees previously, one has decided to go on a tea break.

Even worse, the one customer in the store that was even slower than me, decides to stand right behind me, making strange noises, and doesn't understand normal acceptable body space boundaries and so keeps swaying into me. I turned around to see who it was and he looked vaguely familiar. At  first I thought it was the banjo player off 'Deliverance.' but on closer inspection, I realised that it wasn't him at all. Instead, it was one of the neanderthals from a couple of blogs ago.  A little while later I began to sense some heavy breathing down my neck, which I have come to learn, usually means that an attempt at speech is imminent, Yep, I was right because he came out with the literally superlative "Duhhh there's a f***ing queue in 'ere like innit?

I should add that this happened a couple of months ago and since then my local B & Q have installed 4 of those automatic cashiers that keep asking you to place the item on the scale when you have already done that. You can't continue until the assistant who is on a tea break comes to get it all working again. Or it tells you to scan the item which is exactly what you have been attempting to do for the past half hour but the blinkin' thing doesn't work..........The best one is when it says "Please wait for assistance"  ........Yeah sure!

The Day I went Global

Before I start I just want a quick moan about Jules Holland. It was bad enough that Wacko went around claiming the moonwalk as his own. Now it seems you have everyone crawling out of the woodwork claiming they invented it. Jules Holland, who should know better, has just had some guy on called Jeffrey Daniel who did a bit of moonwalking , claimed ownership and went on to say he taught Wacko all he knew. Well spare a thought for this poor bugger in the video link below...

Moonwalk link.............. only a bit before Wacko

A couple of months ago a friend of mine sent me a funny piece of text, as many people often do.....As I was reading it, I started to think, this is beginning to ring a bell, and as I read further on, it dawned on me that I had written it, only a couple of years earlier.....It has all of my hall marks. It's been changed in a few places because the names Ron and Julie are definitely not by me.

I would have first written it onto one of two sites where I frequent the forums and so I googled bits of the text to see if I could see where I had written it. As it turned out there were hundreds of entries for it. It came up on forums and blogs worldwide....

I was quite amazed, what were the chances of one of my rambling posts ever going global and then coming back home.......I feel rather proud now, just wish I could prove ownership......Here is the bit of text in question...

My name is Ron. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Julie. When I took early retirement last year, it became necessary for Julie to get a full-time job for the extra income that we need.

Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I now usually get home from the pub about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she nearly always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't shout at her, instead I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets my dinner on the table. I generally have lunch at the pub so eating out again is out of the question; I'm ready for some real home cooked food when I get home.

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's usual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.

Another symptom of ageing is complaining. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to do the shopping during her lunch hour. But we take them for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then won't hurt her. I like to think tact is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She has to take a rest when she has only half finished mowing the lawn and several extra breaks when she's vacuuming through the house. It does annoy me, I don’t like her vacuuming when I'm trying to watch my favourite program, but I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to make herself a nice cup of tea and just sit for a while, and as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Julie. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your ageing wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other, aren’t we?

Those Woolly Jumpers

I did say I have put a bit of weight on recently didn't I? This resulting picture of Station Road is what cemented my understanding of the archimedes principle.

I was sitting in Starbucks in Llanelli and quietly drinking my "Americano with room." What an irritating term that is. Couldn't they just say "Would you like cream sir?" No! it seems they can't say that, instead you get some spotty faced little oik, peering at you from behind some over sized espresso coffee making appliance that mutters "Da ya wan' room mister?"

Me, "Sorry what do you mean do I want a room, why is this a hotel as well?"

Oik, "No do yer want room in yer coffee?"

Me "You've lost me son, what do you mean do I want room in my coffee, no I want coffee in my coffee"

Oik, "No do ya wan' room fer creeeaammm?"

Me, "Why couldn't you just ask me if I wanted cream in my coffee in the first place?"

Oik, "Company policy."

Anyway, there were one or two other people in there and one chap who I can only describe as some very intense looking yuppy who was eating berries from two separate boxes that he had brought in with him. He made a selection of one berry from one box, then he took another berry from his other box and then took a slug of his espresso. He repeated this sequence without deviating until he had finished all of his berries and his espresso.

This quirky behaviour fitted in well with the quirky furniture which makes it all a little surreal, with the patrons either delving into a lap top or trying to get their mouths open wide enough to get all the cream in from a cup of coffee with a dollop of what looks like Mr Whippy squirted on the top.

It does get a little snobbish with the laptops I've noticed...The Mac owners like to swagger in and make sure the apple badge is visible on all aspects of the computer so that everyone can see it is a Mac no matter what angle you view it from. Whilst the PC owners tend to hide away in the corners hoping no one will notice, but the game gets given away because they forgot to turn the volume down when it starts up.

In this quasi, pseudo, cultured, environment they were playing music from some carefully preselected audio

disc. To my complete and utter horror, Hangman from Led Zeppelin 3 came on.....It said it it all for me....How could they do that? Led Zeppelin being used as background musaic. How could anyone do that to Zeppelin, It would be the same as using copies of the Mona Lisa as toilet paper are they completely devoid of any sense of culture at all? How did Page, Plant and Jones allow it to happen and poor old Bonham would be spinning like a Catherine wheel if he knew about it. I couldn't stomach it after that and so I just had to get out....

I went home and later that evening one of my life's delights happened to be on the telly " X Factor." I will no doubt be mentioning X Factor quite often in my blogs because apart from Britain's Got Talent, X factor is the only other programme on British TV that can induce me to involuntary vomiting with less than 10 seconds exposure to it. You may wonder why I watch it and that is an understandable and valid question, and the answer is because my Old Dragon likes it....she also likes Strictly Come Dancing, Casualty and the X factor Xtra, so my Saturday nights are quite an ordeal. Suicide is an option that I have contemplated on more than one occasion.

Anyway just when you think nothing could possibly get any worse, it happened, you can imagine the horror and that feeling, as if I had just been booted in the stomach repeatedly, by some seventies type bovver boy wearing size twelve Doc Martins. I couldn't believe it but I could hear background music on X factor.......Yes, you've guessed it, Zeppelin again, only this tine it was Kashmir.........

I now know why binge drinking at home is such a huge problem in modern day Britain.

Why Does That Happen

Today's picture featuring a very early word processor.

As some of you may know I have been having a constant battle with my weight the past couple of years. I did my leg and back in a while ago and I haven't been able to play squash since. I also haven't been able to play Australian rules football, do any snowboarding down the steep slopes of the alps or go wrestling any crocodiles.

Anyway, my battle with my weight is such that the weight is now winning.

The other day I was watching an infomercial about a device called an Ab King Pro. It is some kind of contraption that you lay on and it makes you thin. I thought that is just the exercise regime I could do with. Allegedly, all you have to do is just have a lay down for 3 and a half minutes every day on this thing and it will give you a six pack within a few days. I thought yep, that's the one for me. Actually, I know another exercise regime that involves me laying down for 3 and a half minutes too but that has been closed off to me for some years now.....

So anyway, this is where I thought I was really being clever. The Ab King Pro was £100 on the telly shopping channel, so I looked on the Internet and sure enough, good old Ebay turns it up at £29.00 for exactly the same thing.....Bargain! I thought, so I bought one.

I waited in all day for it to arrive. Then I ran out of milk so I went to the shop 4 doors away from my shop to buy some milk. Admittedly, I had a bit of a moan about the state of the area while I was there but when I got back there was not only about 5 customers hanging about outside complaining about me never being there and that their gruntles had been severely dissed, but also the delivery guy had been and gone . He left a note saying no reply......Why does that happen?

As an aside..............Anyone want to buy a slightly used Ab King Pro cheap........?

Neanderthal Man

The picture below is there for decorative purpose and has no bearing on the text.
I just thought I would post one of my pictures with every post.

My particular grievances with the world are many and varied and so I thought I'd start with the one that constantly leaves me slowly shaking my head from side to side on a daily basis.

Scientist have stated that Neanderthal man became extinct 30,000 years ago. I am afraid they are just plain wrong. It is possible that they were close to extinction but there was a colony of them which survived all those years ago and in fact they are still surviving today. Their colony exists just down the road from me. For their day to day survival they have learned certain words like ..money...and gimme...and they have learned that expletives used between these words give them the necessary thinking time to think of the next word for their sentence. They have also been trained to sign on and and gob all over the pavement when they travel between the DHSS office and the pub.

There are many of these pubs in my vicinity where the clientele like to arrive at about 8.00am, and where they continue to gather throughout the day where the volume of lager consumed is directly proportional to the volume of noise that they produce, until it reaches a crescendo at about midnight. It then winds down until the golden hour is reached from around 7.00am til 8.00am where no noise emissions are detectable but then the whole process repeats itself.

I have learned over time that the certain sounds that this species make, mean different things, as they seem to revert back to gurgling and throaty type noises which they find far more comfortable with than maintaining any kind of advanced communication such as English. The entire species like to smoke, so due to recent government rulings they have been congregating outside the front door of the various pubs but this doesn't appear to affect them in any way. It seems from my observations that they are quite happy standing in the rain however, their levels of intelligence are limited and the correlation between water and soggy cigarettes hasn’t yet been made. Well not until it rains so hard that it puts out their cigarettes completely. Once this happens some agitation becomes detectable and that is accompanied by sort of uggghhh noise usually preceded by the f word. Once one starts, it sets of some kind of chain reaction and all the males of the species join in. I suppose it is some form of chanting. This level of excitement doesn't subside at all once they have all started.

Then a strange phenomena occurs the females of the species begin to arrive, usually with 2 or 3 infants and begin to make some unintelligible high pitched screaming noises, again interjected with multiple use of the f word and quite often 2 or 3 f words in succession. I suspect the infants are brought along for initiation purposes and it seems to be quite ingrained as they like to repeat this ritual on a daily basis. Usually the group are quite frenzied from then on and there are many subsequent screaming outbursts from the females and quite often 2 or 3 females have some form of wrestling match where pulling hair and kicking is also allowed if not preferred. One of the males that has obviously close connections to the combatants is used as a referee in the loosest sense and he himself can usually be seen to suffer many injuries from this strange habitual behaviour.

As the sun sets then the males of the species became far more vociferous and are often heard to be shout a word that sounds like whooooaaah I have come to realise that they all have the same name and that name is Whoooaaah. I think they all have the same first name as well and that begins with f. Once the males have had 2 or 3 gallons of lager they become extremely predictable. Their behaviour from then on is entirely without surprise or deviation. They like the sound that breaking glass makes and they break any glass object within their immediate vicinity. These glass objects can be car mirrors and windscreens, empty bottles and glasses, windows etc. Once they have been shouting "Whoooaahh" for an hour or two most of the colony would have congregated as they would have heard their name being called from miles around. As tradition has it, one of the males will the try to steal the mate from another male. This results in violent displays of aggression and even more glass smashing. Once all the glass is smashed and violent behaviour subsides the beaten male is left licking his wounds and being soothed by one or two of his close companions where he then likes to strike out at any inanimate object, like a car, a wall, a lamp post or just about anything just to relieve the aggression that he wasn't capable of venting on the male that had just beat him. Extreme caution should be exercised at this point as this is when he is at his most dangerous and should generally be avoided until he is subdued with more lager. A word of warning is necessary here, due to his heightened sense of paranoia, should he see anybody laughing at him, would place that person in serious danger.

By this time midnight has passed and the colony members start to fall into a drunken stupor and as they do so the noise levels decrease and eventually at about 7 .00 am they are all asleep. And there is peace and quiet at last.

I am so glad that the taxes I pay are used to help this species to continue to live in their ritualistic manner and it's so comforting for me to see them so happy and drunk and I feel warm inside with the knowledge that I and many like me are helping to maintain their existence and so prevent the extinction which has been so erroneously proclaimed.

Hello and Welcome

Welcome to my new blog page.......I will reporting on vitally important world issues shortly and offering solutions to the worlds problems.

Some of you may have noticed that I had deleted my blog a few days ago. Well I did and it just seemed to me that probably no one was actually reading any of it, and it all seemed a bit silly, so I thought "Sod it" and deleted the lot. A few minutes later I thought "I shouldn't have done that." But it was too late.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on your point of view, Colin who is a good friend of mine and one of the followers here, noticed that I had deleted it all and went on some google cache thingy and got it all back for me....So I'm back!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll be putting the other blog titles up shortly.

In the meantime here is a pretty picture that I took a few months ago.