9000

The Importance of Properly Letting the Dust Settle

2012-01-05T12:37:00.001Z

This is the unedited version of an article first ran in october 2011 in the excellent CQN magazine:

We’ve all been in arguments. Things get heated; sometimes matters can escalate and erupt into violence or plateau at an uncomfortable shouting match with rage eventually trickling where once it gushed thus unable to sustain the combustion required for further quarrelling. However disputes end there is the period immediately after in which any ideas, suggestions or notions one comes up with are best discarded or at least held back for consideration; the prudent solution is usually not to act whilst the dust has yet to settle. Professor Jennifer Lerner of Harvard Kennedy School has, in lab tests proven the deleterious effects of anger upon risk perception. Anyone with young children will back up Professor Lerner’s research with empirical fact from the kitchen floor or any other tantrum ready area; anger does not make you reasonable.

After the events at Celtic Park on Wednesday March 2^nd 2011 culminating in the touch line tussle between Ally McCoist & Neil Lennon a lot of anger seemed to be unleashed. The Daily Mail encapsulated the zeitgeist with “the Old Firm was off the leash again, foaming at the mouth and, the constabulary fear, not for the last time”. From the smouldering remains of that match Alex Salmond came barrelling forth, riding the wave of outrage and vitriol about the what happened making sure he was being seen to “excise and drive out this blight from the game of football in this country”

It is a politician’s lot to make the most of the opportunities that raise their heads, however ugly. It is also the lot of an elected leader to exercise judgment and temper the mob as opposed to pander to it. The dust had barely settled before news reached us that policy was to be whisked in to clamp down on the scourge of sectarianism.

I found the political discourse like listening to 11 year old boys talking about sex, filling in the slots where details and facts go with suppositions and suggestions hinting at something but not quite filling the slots the way the truth would. Whilst the tide of vented spleen fluid was still high Roseanna Cunningham sought to justify her existence by not ruling out fans being prosecuted for singing the national anthem or Rule Britannia or making the sing of the cross if it was intended to be inflammatory. This clumsy dialogue only served to compound how hopelessly out of touch with the situation those in power are. The valiant Alex Salmond charged in on his trusty steed determined to slay a dragon even though he didn’t know what it looked like or where its lair was. This dragon is far bigger and more deadly than the brave sir Alex dare believe. For all his bluster and fervour in the wake of the “shame game” and the tempering appeals from both sides of the old firm chasm since that has led to the anti-sectarianism bill being halted, albeit briefly, it is easy to remain unsatisfied that Alex Salmond has truly grasped just how far reaching the ripples caused by his anti-sectarianism bill will be when it hits the water. Any bill designed to diminish what are now intrinsic human rights that were fought for in the first place has to be challenged.

Sectarianism is, according to Wikipedia, “bigotry, discrimination or hatred arising from attaching importance to perceived differences between subdivisions within a group, such as between different denominations of a religion or factions of a political movement”. At no point in the fallout from the “shame game” has anyone sought to publically define what sectarianism is, reverting to the tactics employed by 11 year old boys debating the finer points of fellatio.

Having read the proposed bill (http://www.scottish.parliament.uk/s4/bills/01-offbehfoot/b1s4-introd.pdf) I am left in no doubt that the problem at large is poorly understood and the full might of the law will come down on any errant offender with all the finesse of a clumsy stripper. How can one “tackle sectarianism by preventing offensive and threatening behaviour”? How does one measure offense or threat? Is there a chart with universally recognised & acknowledged values on it corresponding to levels of abuse and threat? I am certain there is not. A handshake could be construed as threatening to an Anthropophobe, Mary Whitehouse found sex & swearing when broadcast offensive yet I do not.

I think by now the scale of the dilemmas thrown up by this bill rushed in through the slowly settling dust of the “shame game” aftermath is becoming apparent. Without guidance and clarity on what constitutes an offense this bill represents a large threat to freedom of speech and freedom of expression. Caution indeed must be taken with any document circulated that has public support from someone that would see fit to deem Rule Britannia or making the sign of the cross a punishable sectarian act.

Under such fast and loose interpretations of sectarianism it is not inconceivable that any action taken by a political party that disadvantages another is indeed a sectarian act; political sectarianism is one of the prominent balustrades of SNP policy and ethos. No one can deny the primary goal of the SNP is to achieve an independent Scotland and as such they will direct resource to this goal that no other party would. If this is not sectarianism in action then I am just as lost as our policy makers are on what indeed constitutes sectarianism.

When we sit, far from the fallout from that heady night in March at Celtic Park, it becomes clear that a number of things do not add up. Offense is indeed a relative term as is threat. Without universally agreed quantification of either of these how can one enforce a law that’s raison d’être is to outlaw and banish the blight of sectarianism when we have no clear consensus on how this blight manifests itself.

We could fumble on and throw all behaviours linked with the Old Firm in, Orange Walks, IRA songs, Tricolours, Union Jacks, Rule Britannia, blessing yourself; basically all of these disparate elements of a diverse community that have nothing directly to do with football. At no point have the authors of this ill conceived anti-sectarianism bill thrown any weight behind championing programs to mitigate friction caused by perception of differences that exist in our community; it is akin to treating obesity with one brisk walk. Exercise is indeed required but that ain’t the whole picture, diet has to be examined, fatty foods cut out, exercise built into a regime with all factors leading to problem eating examined and where possible rectified. The treatment for the ills of sectarianism is no different; one swift dose of something with a passing resemblance to a cure is never going to work.

Hearing “ooh ahh up the ra” makes my skin crawl. It has since I was young when back in the 80’s people died in IRA explosions. How could I be happy to hear a song glorifying an organisation that saw fit to detonate a device on November 8^th1987 in Enniskillen that killed 11 people? I have a lot of family from Enniskillen and the connection with those events is all too visceral. Going to the football to hear people sing songs glorifying terrorists makes you take a good long hard look at your own club. Ying must have Yang and as such there are those amongst the Rangers support who equally feel the veneration groups such as the UDA who are essentially criminal gangs intent upon harm to persons and property is an essential element to any Rangers game. It does not take a genius to figure out why there are those who turn their back on the Old Firm; not everyone has the stomach for bile as it is served in Glasgow.

Some of us though, believe in our institutions and believe, as Celtic’s founding fathers did, that their institution should be open and free to all without fear of persecution or harm. Irrelevant of how or why a club was founded or what the core beliefs at the heart of that institution were, these are features that can be changed, mellowed or sharpened to suit the progressive tastes of the time. There are many of us for who, irrelevant of our religious beliefs, wade through the bile and negativity because we believe in something better.

If Mr. Salmond and those responsible for our impending anti-sectarian bill that has the potential to castrate our public opinions and impinge upon one of the most sacred of rights in the western world were truly serious about tackling the cancerous issues growing in our community then perhaps they would consult those who potentially have the most to lose should these short sighted proposals become law.

When the dust settles after an argument an enlightened and informed dialogue with the involved parties is always the best thing. It’s always easier to clear the air when the dust has settled.

CQN Magazine

2012-01-05T12:32:00.000Z

I may have mentioned this before. Repeatedly. To everyone within ear shot and, well, blogshot I guess. Somebody, somewhere, has decided that I can write for their magazine. When I say somebody I mean Paul67 who writes the excellent http://www.celticquicknews.com/ blog and has branched out into print media.

Check out the new CQN Magazine at: http://en.calameo.com/read/000390171224afb293e4a and my latest article (admittedly not my best at all) can be found on page 44.

For your edification I shall also put my old, unedited articles on here.

Abuse/Plaudits and feedback is always welcome. Appreciation coems after I've read it.

Idiomy

2012-01-05T12:23:00.002Z

I find myself becoming increasingly preoccupied with sayings. I am unsure whether advancing age allows you to appreciate any of the wisdom carried in anything the throw away sayings more than previously, but as I write this, having been thoroughly pissed off with the never ending conveyor belt of tripe served up by sports journalists (of which technically, in the loosest and most baggy and I mean XXXXXXXXXXXXL t-shirt baggy loose sense of the word I am) proves that indeed the Devil does make work for idle hands. This idiom rings true if you have a look at the BBC Sports SPL top headline from today (http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/16420258.stm). If this headline had a flavour it would be Pot Noodle without the sachet of sauce.

When I look at girls dressed up to the nines the turn of phrase that flits through my head is “all that glitters is not gold”, having seen enough vaginas and kissed enough girls to know that make up is generally an allowance for something else that in the long run you’ll miss.

So is conventional wisdom overrated? Is it the basis of a robust enough philosophy with which to skip through life, relying on when apathy strikes one dull Thursday afternoon?

No.

But there is some delightful wisdom that you can use to kick your own arse into action. “A Stitch in time saves nine”.

And with that I shall sign off.

Happy New Year by the way, I promise as my New Year’s resolution to write more, pontificate more, speculate more and waste less time.

Throw us an idiom that can serve as a buzzword, poster slogan or spur to achieve those modest goals.

Oh, and I’m on Twitter (@TM9000).

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

Not Quite at the Races

2011-11-18T11:02:00.000Z

Traction on the racism thing is hard when you read tripe like this: “Mark Bright says racism is 'still a problem' for football”. This is all based upon a tainted view of what Sepp Blatter said.

I shall go on record now as stating that I think Sepp Blatter represents most of what is wrong in the modern corporatized game. The whiff of corruption around his permanently blazered person seems not to be able to wash off giving the fact the English a permanent taste and in some cases lust for his blood; a hypothesis given credence by the fact the majority of the slabbering press hounds already have his foot in his mouth before he speaks.

However not everything this shambling bureaucrat says is akin to a rapist having a wank on the evidence during his trial; he was kinda right about racism; "There is no racism [on the field], but maybe there is a word or gesture that is not correct, the one affected by this should say this is a game and shake hands." That quote has a satisfying ring of my mum’s own advice to it.

My mum doesn’t work for FIFA; not yet anyway.

Racism, as I have previously stated is, according to various online sources (this time I’ll use Merriam Webster…possibly not the first time I have done so):

1. A belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race

2. Racial prejudice or discrimination

I am not sure, running with the understanding delineated above, what Sepp Blatter has actually said that is so out of order that even the media whore that presides over government has had to jump on the band wagon about. Rather nice that a deliciously slender non-story would needlessly erupt out of a lack of news elsewhere to illustrate how desperate for attention of any kind Mr. Cameron is; I’m currently torn between describing him as the fat bird at a party that makes up for a lack of looks by being easy or as a rabid dog with a strange wee lip stick like hard on that chases the ice cream van and almost comes with delight when he gets within 20 metres of it. Either way I’m sure we can all conclude that both images sufficiently portray the stinky desperation of a tub thumping fop with a shite hair cut and a tie to fuck up any occasion that has his job title shortened to PM. This, and the sheer brass neck shown by jumping on the Poppy appeal whilst getting ready to axe 16000 UK troops is sickening. But that a raw cut of meat to be grilled another time.

Back to Blatter though. Racism is not rife in football. There are loads of black, Asian, white and other ethnicities playing football. I don’t imagine that Samuel Eto’o and his (world record) €10m per annum salary makes him a particularly good poster child for how racist and inherently unfair football is. Blatter in, what the BBC has termed a gaffe, went on to say "I would like to make it very clear, I am committed to the fight against racism and any type of discrimination in football and in society". Shocking stuff, time to nail this fucker to the mast it would seem.

The fact of the matter is that racism is now providing those with a cross to bear a road to drag the sorry timber structure up and a long procession of people to gawp at them as they drag it. David Cameron and David Beckham, the two of the figureheads of England’s doomed World Cup bid have an axe to grind and they are endlessly doing it in the public eye; a nice pantomime distraction from the nightmare infinitely more horrible than 12 non-stop hours of Davina McCall presenting Big Brother with that Halloween mask of a coupon of hers; the collapse of the Euro zone and the rise of austerity and having the arse ripped out of society by morally bankrupt and seemingly financially bankrupt fuckwits.

I did wake up in a good mood and the glass is still half full. I just like ranting.

But let’s drag this thang back to racism and why it is relevant before irreversible tangentialism sets in. The point is essentially this: do not ever, for one fucking second confuse things for what they really are. Football is a sport and things should be dealt with sportingly as not to give confidence to silly behaviour. Abuse is abuse, and aye, it can be hurtful most good abuse should be; like good whiskey, it should be strong. But it is in how folk deal with abuse. Garth Crooks throws his 10p in with "Clearly Sepp Blatter is a man who's never suffered from racism," he said. "I'm shocked and somewhat dismayed." How does he know? What does Garth Crooks know about growing up in Switzerland? Likely about as much as I except that fucking neurosurgeon likely thinks all the kids can yodel before talking and the Toblerones are served in the school cafeterias.

Strip the outrage at the circus of stupidity peddled before my eyes (by no less than the “impartial” BBC) and the point is one and the same. Hurt. Who is to say that one group’s pain at being ostracised is greater than another’s? Pain hurts rather fortunately. It is also universal and in our quest for equality I think we should all take the time to remember that we are all human, we all feel pain, offense, hurt, joy, hungry, sad, happy, sleepy and we all have an equal ability, and right might I add, to be complete fannies.

Big Sepp is a fanny, there can be no doubt. His remarks may not be in good taste, they may not even be required or funny for that matter, but in a game as politicised as the one we’re watching right now the one thing we must be clear about is that those telling us of their “outrage” and their “shock” are about as useful and milk chocolate butt plugs in the grand debate about racism. Everyone knows inequality is bad, lets try and fix it and stop using divisive issues like this as political whips otherwise we risk turning racism into something far more serious than it is and undoing all our good work toward a more fair and balanced society.

And as for MarkWright, nobody with more than 3 working brain cells gives a flying fuck about what he has to say for himself.

Flower Power

2011-11-10T12:25:00.002Z

Just because everyone is saying it or doing it doesn’t make it right.

Correctness is not a function of consensus. Defining correctness or right is nigh on impossible but I would like to think that true good was something that wasn’t oppressive, bullying, heavy handed, weaponised, brutal, offensive, morally repugnant or all encompassing.

The Poppy appeal has graduated from a humble plank with a nail in it to a fully weaponised ballistic platform able to launch attacks on land, sea and airborne targets whilst also repelling any counter attack with a shield of righteousness.

In writing about this issue as extensively as I have done on both my own blog, my Twitter account and indeed in CQN magazine I have perhaps been throwing petrol on a bonfire I’m not keen to have in my back garden. I am quite far down this road though and as such I have to keep my message consistent.

I rebuked Henry Winter of the Telegraph on Twitter as I felt his article, whilst well written, ultimately leant credence (by way of coverage) to the rampant Poppy fascism in the media. “An outbreak of common sense”? Hardly, FIFA were very cute in finding a solution that allowed England to get their way whilst not breaking their own rules, but the simple fact is that common sense dictates that football should be about football. Remembrance of our ex-service people who made the ultimate sacrifice is important, but this sacrifice wasn’t made with the intent of being fashioned into a political weapon that few can oppose.

I have previously written of my disgust at the criminalisation of children for burning the poppy, I am now writing about my disgust at what I see around me. I have no axe to grind with the Poppy Appeal, ex-servicemen or paying due respect to those who have given their lives to protect this country and indeed our way of lives. But I have a big sharp axe to grind and, if given a chance, use against bullies that force their will upon others and hide behind charity and righteousness when challenged about their appalling behaviour.

FIFA are well within their right to ban the Poppy symbol on football shirts. The Poppy is political, whether those at The British Legion, in 10 Downing Street or anywhere else for that matter choose not to see it. The amount of ink spilled or keyboards rattled about this topic shows just how political an issue the poppy truly is.

The point of removing racism from football is to make the game more inclusive not exclusive. The same argument is levelled at the Poppy; it is a divisive issue and not having it present at football is part of keeping football inclusive, not exclusive. By not showing it you are in no way, shape or form implying that football doesn’t support remembrance, peace or any of the other good connotations that Poppy supporters trumpet on about championing; it simply shows that football has no bias other than that of fans supporting their team. The sport is unbiased, the support isn’t. Adherence to this model ensures inclusiveness and further promotes football.

Henry Winter got the nail right on the head later in his Telegraph article “The understandable focus on the poppy has taken the debate away from serious footballing matters”, but the apologetic tone all the way through designed to appease Poppy Fascists is not what I’d expect of someone with such a lofty position within the media. The inaction of good men allows for bad things to occur; it is not enough to say in a hushed voice that “the poppy furore must be approached intelligently”, it has to penetrate the collective national consciousness that respect is earned and people have right to their opinions.

I have said it before and I will continue to say it, I think that our service personnel give a lot for very little and deserve our respect. But the moment it is demanded the game changes.

As for David Cameron getting involved, he is a complete fucking clown and will jump on any bandwagon that is bound for popularity. The PM’s obsequious devotion to popularity as witnessed by him wading into this furore makes the Poppy political and on a personal note shows what a little sniveling weasel he is one; a sniveling little weasel devoid of a firm grasp upon what the electorate actually wants.

I shall cherish my freedom of speech for now; soon I may not be able to call the PM a “sniveling little weasel” in such a manner. Perhaps George Orwell was 30 years too early with one his book titles.

But to get back on track, I shall hammer the message home again; the only tolerable form of intolerance is against intolerance itself.

Football is football and should be a free and open forum where anyone with the skill to play, ticket money to get into the stadium, issue to raise on a blog or a point to pour down a phone to a call-in talk show or even arse cheeks with which to dent a seat whilst watching a game is entitled to be free to exercise their beliefs; provided they are inclusive and not exclusive.

The Poppy furore should be relabeled and rebranded as the Poppy Shambles. This nonsense cannot be the PR The Poppy Appeal desire; a comply or die attitude is no way run a charity and furthermore all of those who threw their weight behind this without so much as a second thought to FIFA’s position (the weasel at No. 10, the ginger prince, the British Legion, and the fucking BBC) should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves for dragging such a noble cause down to the level of political weapons platform ready to bully those who don’t agree at a moments notice.

It is morally repugnant and I do not agree. Furthermore anyone who wants to take a pop at me for this view feel free, being right isn’t about consensus, its about being right, not taking negative action under a guise of positivity and righteousness and most of all it is about being right.

An Open Apology to Steve-O featuring a Proper Review of his Stand Up

2011-11-09T12:51:00.000Z

As per the title, this is a sincere apology to Steve-O for my comments on twitter the other evening. My comments were made whilst I was drunk, demoralised and clearly not of sound mind. As such my comments were harsh and in some cases (the HIV thing), over the top.

Please accept my sincerest apology for any offence caused by my caustic tweeting.

As part of my apology I feel it only fair to offer those who may have been adversely affected by my rushed and mordant review of your stand up a more balanced and thoughtful review of your stand up gig.

First of all I have to say that the O2 ABC on Sauchiehall Street was an ideal choice, the bar was readily assessable and well stocked whilst not being too expensive as to prohibit excessive drinking.

That is the only good thing I can say about the gig as excessive drinking was required to make a sincere and concerted effort to stand and be subjected to the tripe emanating from the stage. The 1st stand up, the warm up act, was just desperate. Shouting things at the audience with no guile or craft is the mark of a novice and generally to be expected from the first chump out. In fairness to the 1st act as he died on his arse (possibly the worst death on a stage I have witnessed) he was hooked by the Wee Man.

The Wee Man

This, to my mind is where it started to go severally wrong. The Wee Man (http://theweeman.posterous.com/) is essentially a turbo charged Rab C Nesbitt, the voice of the people spat through a shite encrusted filter and whilst we’re all getting spattered with little bits of jobby we can thaw it because of the inherent underlying truth of it all. That worked 20 years ago when Gregor Fisher was traipsing about Govan in a string vest and nothing like it had been seen before. It fails to resonate now. The Wee Man, to his credit was more polished and professional but not particularly funny. His end rap was well done and constituted the high point of the show.

Rather sad really that this endeavour peaked so soon.

Before moving on to Steve-O I should provide some background. I can’t stand Jackass. Watching Johnny Knoxville and his cohorts do stupid things whilst trying to exude high school popularity is boring, dull and stupid. It is also indicative of the fact MTV will fund and subsequently screen anything and tell the more impressionable amongst us that it is cool. It isn’t. The prime offender for stupid and unwatchable behaviour was Steve-O. Routinely he’d be the one to seem to take things too far, that was his gig.

I remember watching the Jackass participation in a European Gumball Rally that had Steve-O terminally on a come down in the back of a car travelling at high speed. Surely the zenith of all television. All during this escapade Johnny Knoxville was at least watchable as a presenter, if not much else (as an addendum, he was good in Men in Black; not Oscar good but watchable good). It stuck in my mind that a guy got paid money to get fucked up on drugs and booze then slump in various positions only one on a come down could find even remotely comfortable in the back of various cars.

It is safe to say my opinion of him was not high prior to the gig, but I had an open mind and I thought, now he is a reformed character perhaps he is in a position to recant his tales of from what seems like a pretty intense and for the average guy, hard to fathom out time. Prior to the show I guessed that there must be more to Steve-O than meets the eye. I stowed my cynicism and endured the first two acts thanks to several pints of cider and some top notch chat from my best mate (even the sun shines on a dogs arse).

The audience was full of teenagers, skaters, folk much like myself and it was interspersed with people of every imaginable demographic, adorned with various garments and accessories all with the skull and two crutches for cross-bones that makes up the Jackass symbol. It is safe to say the fan quotient was high. After what seemed liked half an hour of waiting (I timed it, it was 27 minutes and 10 seconds; that’s how swept away with the ambience I got) Steve-O, to rapturous applause from the gathered teens, tweens, fans, and bams came on to the stage. If he’d been any smaller and thinner the microphone stand could have obscured his slight frame. There was chanting, “Steve-O, Steve-O” and he, in turn bowed and took his applause which was no doubt amplified by the shortcomings of the previous two acts.

Then he started. The first formulaic order of the day was to garner local support which he tried to do by parroting the Glaswegian pronunciation of Edinburgh correctly as “Edinbrrra”. Well done, 2/10. Once that formality was out the way and a joke-devoid monologue ensued someone heckled Steve-O due to the silence which was hanging over the crowd like acrid smoke. The bold Steve-O responded by instantly threatening any heckler with security setting the tone for the next 15 minutes of the gig I managed. A story of an intervention by Johnny Knoxville to prevent Steve-O from taking more drugs and booze was then embarked upon. And unto this story he injected what one could liberally describe as commitment but not humour nor the crowd interfaced verbal dexterity that one would expect from someone who has put themselves in the frame to be a stand up.

Taking a step back I think that perhaps Steve-O would recant his stories, addled with whatever he was flying on at the time to a group of sympathetic ears, who all laughed and may have given him the required push to take this on tour. But minus any kind of intoxicant and fuelled only by what is clearly a bottomless lust for attention of any kind Steve-O was left out on stage, nursing his uninteresting and rather half-arsed story in a city that is not kind to comedians. Many of the greats have died on their arse in Glasgow and on that stage at the O2 ABC Steve-O found to his peril, amidst the sympathy giggles and half hearted smiles of his fans that no amount of celebrity can save you from dying on your arse when you fail to be amusing or even strike a rapport with those who have paid to be there. Indeed even the bird with the Jackass hoody in front of me being perhaps the most sympathetic in the room and only managing a barely audible snigger to save his blushes was indicative of where the night was going.

X-Factor's Faye Bray

Prior to Steve-O taking the stage I had read his Twitter feed and he had posted a review of his gig (http://say.ly/wkIWrA) that Keith Harrison at the very reputable Express & Star had written. To put things into context the headline of the Express & Star whilst I write this is “Inmates ‘mesmerised’ by former X Factor contestant Faye Bray’s clothes” complete with a picture of what appears to be a Harpy ready to pounce. Coincidentally I’d never heard of Faye Bray prior to 3 minutes ago.

Anyway back to Steve-O. With this glowing review from a rag barely credible as the outer protective layer for a bag of chips and my mates assertion that the first two shambolic annoyances to take the stage were a ploy to make the bold Steve-O look better, I was optimistic, if not somewhat pissed off about the lack of respect shown to the audience by the ridiculous wait (27 minutes 10 seconds for the record), but Mr. Glover proceeded to erode that optimism over the course of 15 minutes to the point were I, in unison with my mate, proclaimed aloud “I’m done” (which was freaky but welcome), tanked our drinks and left.

I was left with a very bitter taste in my mouth and the need to eviscerate Steve-O via Twitter. But the best laid plans of men and mice and all that jive; I was just an out and out cunt to him on Twitter. But it was funny for us at the time which was welcome thanks to the comedy vacuum left by a man who has graduated from actually defecating in front of an audience to doing it verbally. As a positive The show was not falsely advertised as Steve-O was at least standing up; the ticket, very accurately, made no mention of comedy.

Occasionally you want to be surprised by people; you want to think there is more to the world than pessimism would allow for belief in; a hidden depth if you like, but Steve-O is the true personification of our age of exploratory markets. I have read that Steve-O has a shoe company called Sneaux Shoes and has even released a hip-hop album (Hard as a Rock). I see no hidden depth here, only the desperate clamour for attention of someone who brings nothing to the table but expects plenty in return.

Steve-O, I apologise for my comments, harsh and unwarranted as they were on Twitter, but you sir a a grade one cunt and I hope that find a niche in life keeps you happy, settled and most importantly out of my field of vision.

You may have trained to be a clown but the only hallmarks of a clown you retain is that you are sad, creepy, utterly unentertaining and your gargoylesque grill is enough to give small children nightmares for years.

I am unsure as to why I would ever have enjoyed the uninteresting ramblings of a man that posts pictures of himself with black eyes on his website. What a complete cunt. That can't spell eye.

Poppy Fire Ire

2011-11-03T15:46:00.000Z

Did I mention that I am now published? Yes I someone deemed me worthy of publication and they have allowed me to step back up onto my soapbox again in the coming week; check out www.celticquicknews.com and click on the link for the CQN magazine.

I shan’t give away too many spoilers but my ire for this month is directed towards the type of person that thinks this: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-15563139 or if you’re too lazy to click the link, the burning of a poppy is worthy of arrest.

To put you in the picture some teenagers decided to burn a poppy, stick it the video on Facebook and a certain Stephen Phillips of the British Royal legion was outraged enough to bother the police. I find this absolutely incredible, teenagers exercising their right to protest, silly as it maybe end up charged with incitement to hatred when they appeared before magistrates in Coleraine, Northern Ireland. I find this maddening; tax payer’s money is being used to try kids for burning a Poppy and the guise that it is incitement to hatred?

Take this blog entry as an open letter to anyone who thinks that protest, irrelevant of how seemingly stupid or otherwise it may be is worthy of censorship. For the record I am not opposed to looking after our veterans and I respect former and current service personnel for their efforts, but a massive part of their efforts during the 1940’s was to protect our liberty from a massive onslaught of tyranny.

And what of liberty now? I think certain people in both the judiciary and the British Royal Legion need to take a good long hard look at themselves. This is extreme Poppy fascism and quite frankly I find it incredible in this day and age that teenagers burning was is a controversial symbol to many are punished. The exuberance and daftness of youth maybe no excuse for breaking the law, but perhaps it falls to those who uphold our laws to think about the validity of these laws.

I for one shall not support in any way, shape or form the British Royal Legion whilst they are an institution that thinks this type of behaviour is acceptable. Further more if I feel the need to burn a Poppy I see no reason why, providing no one is harmed and the property being reduced to ashes and charred plastic is my own in a place where I am not contravening environmental laws or putting other or myself at risk I can be tried for hate crimes. I may well go buy a barrow load of Poppies and eviscerate them and video it with me smiling in the background and post it on Facebook, ensure that a certain Stephen Phillips of the British Royal Legion gets the video and then see what he can actually do when my thoughts are in print.

This is fascism at work and anyone who tells you otherwise is attempting the same bullshit, a la carte censorship that extremists world wide seem to think is acceptable.

Oh, and one more thing, Stephen if you are reading this I actually think you are a poppy fascist and a cunt. I can justify this because you think it is reasonable in a time when all over the UK essential services are deprived of cash, starved of support that you and I have to say the magistrates in Coleraine think it is acceptable to spend public cash on a farce like this. Thanks to your efforts you have criminalised two youths who are guilty of nothing more than setting fire to a stupid little cheap plastic flower.

If they had petrol bombed the Royal Legion HQ, set fire to the poppy whilst it was on someone’s lapel or even assaulted a pensioner with the pin off one of the poppy (then set fire to him/her for good measure) then I could understand the fuss and subsequently the expenditure of public money and the criminalisation of two young boys, but for setting fire to badge that flaunts charitable donation in the faces of people around them? Please, grown up and get over yourselves.

And the fact that an Ulster Unionist, Robin Swann has chimed in with his two-cents about it being “almost beyond belief” shows just how askew people’s priorities really are. He goes on to say “How anyone could be so ignorant to burn a symbol which remembers the Fallen is beyond belief.” Surely ignorance is a facet of youth that with understanding, guidance and nurture as opposed to the police and what seems to be a very heavy handed magistrate can be resolved and ironed out with age. The bold Robin goes on to say; “The tragic irony is that the freedoms which the poppy burners both enjoy and abuse have been paid for by other young men and women who have the courage to put on a uniform and place themselves in harm’s way.”

I hardly call the criminalisation of youth over something as trivial as an indulgence or indeed “enjoyment” of freedom, it is the exact opposite and this has to be the worst incidence of Poppy fascism yet.

Which sets me up nicely for my article in Issue 4 of the forthcoming CQN magazine.

Anton Ferdinand is a B***k B*s***d

2011-11-02T15:43:00.000Z

Well here is a touchy subject to write about, especially if you’re white. Off the back of what seems to be a growing avalanche of racism in football (Google John Terry or Anton Ferdinand) and you’ll get the idea. Prior to this it was Luis Suarez saying racist things to Patrice Evra. I’m sure with very little research you could find other instances in football, but I shan’t go through them all as quite frankly it’ll put me off making my point.

And my point is this: why is this such a big deal? Seriously, why are racist comments such a huge deal? Racism in society at large whereby, for example, a person is refused a job or opportunity based upon prejudices associated with skin colour is abhorrent, but name calling? Sticks and stones…

Had I been on the receiving end of a comment from a reprobate such as John Terry, and the super injunction nonsense has framed exactly for what he is, I would have taken issue with him there and then. My big issue is that who decides that one branch of abuse is worse than any other? I had red hair as a child (my beard being the last remnant of it) and I got abused for that. Ginger hair carries a penalty that being black carries in a predominantly white and not red hair coloured school does; you look different and that difference will be used against you for social leverage. But red hair is a genetic trait, something passed on from your ancestors to you. As is skin colour and the host of other differentiating factors associated with where you ancestors originated from so why is there a huge penalty for abusing skin colour yet virtually nothing for pillorying ginger hair?

I understand that racism is a horrific thing, framed by our recent history of enslaving thousands of people from Africa and then proceeding to treat them as a commodity to be traded, sold and generally abused. But is calling someone a name based upon their appearance racist or just abuse? If I was to call Anton Ferdinand a black bastard does that mean I am racist? The fact that I didn’t break stride when typing black bastard or the fact that I repeated it, does that make me racist? The answer is no. People are people and rights and privileges are an intrinsic part of our humanity irrelevant of what colour ones skin or indeed hair is.

Something worries me greatly about the recent press and the furore surrounding racism in football; chiefly that it is not helpful in the slightest. Would endless tabloid column inches be taken up if Anton Ferdinand had called John Terry a white bastard? I am not certain it would have even crept into the public consciousness.

I have always taken the fight against racism, particularly in football as a way to ensure that we lived in a fair and even society in which your ethnicity, background or appearance should not diminish a person in anyway. But this witch hunt and subsequent investigations and media frenzy are not in the least bit helpful. I do not subscribe to sweeping issues under the carpet but let’s inject some common sense here. John Terry is a good player, a defender of the highest calibre, he has represented both club and country in the biggest tournaments either could appear in but he is not a nice person. He is a person who, after an act of infidelity sought to suppress the freedom of the press to ensure his commercial interests were not harmed; an endeavour which rather delightfully blew up in his face and amplified ten fold the situation. The press have an axe to grind with John terry after the super injunction fiasco. Credence is given to this by the fact that the Suarez incident has not dominated headlines as much as the Terry/Ferdinand incident. But to get back on point is this helpful? Does this highlight racism as a bad thing and help nudge it towards being a historical footnote? No.

When my eldest daughter swears we ignore it. Making a big song and dance of a two year old repeating swear words she has heard when out and about only serves to encourage her to utter them again to illicit a reaction. It is my belief that the same logic is true of dragging racism into the headlines. Let’s frame it for what it really is: name calling. Pure and simply it is name calling and, as anyone can attest, is the choice of abuse indicative of a persons beliefs? Does John Terry’s alleged outburst give those looking at our country from afar an indication of just what horrible bigots we all really are? No. This whole incident is indicative of something far worse, it shows that we are rather clueless as to what constitutes racism is and even more clueless about how to deal with the rampant stupidity of a celebrity class that, in my opinion, have a cheek to label themselves as professional. John Terry is a footballer, a good one but I have yet to see where the professionalism comes into the equation.

As for the receiving end namely Patrice Evra and Anton Ferdinand in the aforementioned incidences, what has compelled them to complain? Had Patrice Evra called Luis Suarez a South American bastard is that proof there and then that Patrice Evra is unconditionally biased and prejudiced towards South Americans? Perhaps it might just be that the only thing he could think of was that he was South American and he wanted to dole out some abuse. Even if Patrice Evra had made fun, say of his height, does that discrimination of a physical and inherited trait as bad as making fun of being black which is a physical and inherited trait?

I think we need a new perspective of racism and abuse. I think from the get go we have to be extremely clear about what racism is. According to Dictionary.com (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/racism) racism is:

1. A belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.

2. A policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.

3. Hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.

I am uncertain from this definition at what point John Terry’s alleged tirade at Anton Ferdinand could be construed as anything other than the ignorant rantings of someone who thinks restricting an intrinsic freedom of people in civilised society to further their own ends, or to put it more bluntly, name calling.

Anton Ferdinand and Patrice Evra are representative of many things, chiefly that you can ascend to the top of your game in sport based on your skill and not your background. I do not know the full story and to be honest I find it rather tedious, but suffice to say it is my belief that in order to eradicate racism this style of witch hunt fuelled by a contorted view of what actually constitutes racism is nothing short of obscene. By allowing people to label ignorant name calling as indicative of racism we are making the playing field unlevel. In much the way that husbands can expect to be ridiculed by the police if they are on the receiving end of domestic abuse from a woman, I suspect the same could be said if I were to report to an officer of the law that I was being made fun of for being white.

If nobody can agree on what the difference is between an idiot running his mouth and racism then I think we are truly up the creek without a paddle. If Anton Ferdinand and Patrice Evra cannot take the alleged abuse of idiots without recourse to providing those instances of abuse with substance (by way of media coverage) then we are never going to successfully tackle horrific facets of society such as racism.

Jesus was quoted as talking about “turning the other cheek” or in my interpretation of it, being the bigger man, I think when faced with rampant stupidity and ignorance that has to be the only option.

Uncomfortably Numb: Post Ibrox Defeat Analysis

2011-09-19T13:39:00.000+01:00

When you jam your hand in, say, a door and for a short time after it you are numb, coming to terms with what is going to be painful pretty much is analogous going into work on a Monday after the Sunday that saw Rangers beat Celtic. Disappointment is the chief feeling as you brace yourself to walk in and confront the Rangers fans dotted about your workplace.

Today I braced myself and…Nothing. Nobody said a thing and I was left wondering why. On the Friday before the Sunday of the game I gauged the mood of the majority of the Celtic supporting colleagues and friends I have. On the whole the mood was good, Rangers were on the ropes, the financial vultures were circling Ibrox and their former chief exec had managed to “arrest” the best part of £500k of their money. For the first time in my life Ranger’s jacket was on a shaky financial peg and administration, although small and barely recognisable, was still on the horizon although at present it seemed like a while before we’d get there.

All this feeling quite good put me in an uncomfortable place. The past 3 titles have went to Ibrox and for all that Celtic fans drink it in about our bigger squad, more comfortable financial position and more amiable relationship with the tax man, I could not help feeling that something was gravely amiss. I had watched a Celtic side without shape, purpose or guile capitulate to what can only be described as a 2nd rate Swiss team. We floundered against St. Johnstone and we were toothless against a La Liga team that seldom looked like getting out of 2nd gear.

Of the 3 league titles that have found their way to Ibrox the feeling I have gotten from the majority of our fans is that in some guise we have been robbed, that Rangers are down and out and we should have just swooped in to capitalise.

I am reminded of the humble approach of Martin O’Neill is his first season in charge. From the initial press conference where he was unveiled as Celtic manager, O’Neill held Rangers up as the shining example of how to win, time and time again saying they were the team to be beat and what we aspired to. 3 season into Rangers’ title dominance and I am only confronted with the opinion that it should be our name on the trophy and I have to struggle to find any Celtic fan who would honestly say that we are not good enough and have consistently been not good enough. Unless anyone has a better idea the league format remains the best way to ascertain over the course of a period of time who truly is the best team. Martin O’Neill’s brinksmanship is a past and distant memory, but one we should not forget in a hurry. There is nothing wrong with being humble; in fact it is one of the best ways to gain psychological edge.

Being humble in the presence of the League Champions is not what we’re after; we want to be in their faces and winning battles all round the park, dominating the play, but being humble before confronting them gives us the advantage. Football people, like us, get their information from the media and in many instances it is the manager who sets the tone. This is something we have to be smarter with. The arena upon which a game can be won is generally larger than the arena it can be watched in.

Yesterday we were played off the park and all the media coverage before the game gave the Rangers players nothing to other than bland talk to deal with. Aside from our deficiencies, abundant as they are this season, we have to take the game to Rangers off the park and we have to be clever.

We can point to Samaras’ start at Stokes’ expense or zonal marking or indeed a whole litany of seemingly meaningful reasons for our defeat and subsequent league failures, but the simple fact is that when you start off by believing your name should be on the trophy without a realistic assessment of your main rivals what can you expect?

Indeed this morning I am uncomfortably numb, but how many more times do our hands have to be jammed in the door before it sinks in that perhaps we have no divine right to win anything, even when it seems the fates are conspiring against our greatest foes.

The Joy of Stats: in Addendum to Yesterday

2011-09-08T09:55:00.002+01:00

Yesterday’s fitba rant was a bit half arsed if I am honest with myself. I should have taken the time to further expound my views and show from where I was coming from. So I shall try to hit that target today.

I say try.

There was a show on BBC iPlayer not so long ago called The Joy of Stats hosted by an enthusiastic, eccentric and compellingly kinetic Swedish professor named Hans Rosling. Professor Rosling set about injecting energy into understanding the data presented to us with a view to framing it all in a useful way, exemplifying the dual virtues of diligent collection of data and meticulous analysis. By setting out data collected globally on salaries, life expectancy, amongst other yard sticks of how well life is rumbling along in useful and easy to digest charts, Gosling shows how complex data sets can be combined via a process of analysis to show us that as a race, “it’s getting better all the time”, to quote The Beatles.

The bottom line is that a true assessment of where we are can only come through collection and analysis of data. With no points of reference a map is meaningless.

Not long after watching this show I finished reading Simon Kuper & Stefan Szymanski’s fantastic book, Why England Lose which is possibly one of the finest football books I have read thus far, discussing the game through an economist’s eyes. Borrowing its starting position from Moneyball by Michael Lewis, Kuper & Szymanski go about effectively separating fact from emotively charged fiction in this book, slaying a hoarde of clichés and myths in the first chapter. Time and time again data and analysis of the data is used to back up hypotheses thrown up by the book.

After reading Why England Lose I reminded myself of a wee saying that often ferrets its way into my thoughts; common sense is none too common.

I’ll give you a footballing example: Andy Carroll was part of the Newcastle United team that was in the English Championship League season 2009 – 2010, with 39 starts and 17 goals. That season Newcastle won the Championship, steamrollering pretty much all that stood in their way. In the same season Gary Hooper played for Scunthorpe United, starting 35 times and scoring 19. Scunthorpe finished 20th in the league, 5 points all that stood between their balls and the relegation band saw. In season 2010 – 2011 both players earned transfers to bigger clubs, Andy Carroll heading to Liverpool in a massive £35 million deal that over shadowed Gary Hooper’s transfer to Celtic by £32.6 million. Andy Carroll played 19 games for Newcastle in the Premiership before his January mega bucks move to Anfield whilst Gary Hooper started the same season at Celtic, with 26 appearances. Carroll managed an impressive 11 goals from 19 starts with Hooper scoring 20 in 26 starts.

Now bear with me here, this is going somewhere. In order to work out relative value, can we deduce from the transfer fees paid that Andy Carroll is 14.583 times the player Gary Hooper is? Does the transfer fee tell us that Andy Carroll’s 11 goals in the Premiership are worth £32.6 million? My answer is no. Gary Hooper & Andy Carroll are proven goal scorers, both with their own style of play and both with impressive stats.

I think this one example shows us directly that football is seldom about facts. The only facts that matter in football are wins & losses. But this tells us nothing deep. This doesn’t tell us that our money is being well spent and invested in improvement of our game, on shrewd transfers. This money is given, by fans, to those who run football and orchestrate the game. I made reference yesterday to the democratising promise of capitalism; in order for this to be adequately realised then more transparency is required and indeed the merits of relative value have to be discussed.

Andy Carroll scored one goal every 2.29 games in a Championship winning side the same season that Gary Hooper scored one goal every 1.84 games in a side that clung onto their Championship status by their finger nails. Irrelevant of how diminutive the SPL is the shadow of the Premiership one has to wonder whether the shadow cast engulfs the SPL 14.583 times in terms of quality or value for money alone. In my opinion no. The £35 million paid for Andy Carroll is an investment in the Premiership bubble, money spent to keep fans deluded by the notion that money is the one true metric of success happy & satisfied.

When the only true metric of success is wins, how does one gauge progress? Surely, as Sunderland this season alone has shown, money is not a KPI that mean conveys meaningful signs of progress. I can only deduce that so emotive and powerful is the need to win that we abandon rationality. This is very dangerous when it is our money poured at an every increasing rate into the game that is being used to fund ventures such as Andy Carroll’s shock transfer. I shall carefully watch and examine over the next few seasons whether or not Andy Carroll has returned enough to justify £35 million in transfer fees (not counting signing on fees and wages, stratospheric as they are for a Premiership footballer).

So coming back to yesterday’s rant. How does one measure progress? The answer is I don’t know. Annoying, eh? But to conclude I am not just going to leave you hanging. Whilst I have no one answer to suggest how to get the results I dream about in a fact based utopia that allows us to be truly supportive and positive of our clubs & countries in their endeavours, I can suggest that a healthy dose of (seemingly not too) common sense be applied to what we hear and are bombarded with from every angle. I have heard pundits saying Arsenal’s season will flounder without significant expenditure on transfers. Perhaps Arsenal won’t win the Premiership or the Champions League, but one has to wonder about the wisdom of those quick to dismiss other factors that pertain to why Arsenal have gone on such a poor run of form that has uncomfortably straddled the end of last season and the commencement of this one culminating in their thrashing at the hands of Manchester United that I 8-2 bring up (sorry).

Wins and losses are the only two stats that matter after everything else evaporates into the ether and our memorials are condensed. Perhaps though we should look deeper at why we were close to either of these extremes, collect data from these times and develop somethign, perhaps transcendent of bias driven mdeia, something more impirical that we could then use as our starting point for analysis of the sport we love and as a basis for hope, something that enables us to know more cleaerly whether the actions we take and money we spend as fans is actually being used to improve the footballing institutions we love and cherish.

Any endeavour which can bring so many people together must surely deserve that level of honesty & transparency in order to push it forward in a positive way.

Emotionally Bankrupted by Scotland

2011-09-07T13:11:00.004+01:00

It might just be me. I have thought about it a few times since Saturday afternoon and through a haze of intoxication I decided that I just couldn’t emotionally invest as much in the Scotland team anymore.

Now admittedly I wasn’t at my most sober on Saturday, nor, as few shall attest to, was I my usual passionate (feel free to refute that adjective) self. But upon watching Scotland once again be done by back luck and glorious in failure, I failed to see anything glorious about snatching defect from the jaws of victory. The draw felt every bit as bad and tasted every bit as bitter and insipid as defeat.

For as long as I can remember Scotland have been shite at football. We’re famous for it. We used to get away with it to, getting to tournaments and then getting found out, but nowadays folk a bit more switched on globally and we’re now getting exposed for how truly bad we are.

But here is the interesting thing, how does one measure relative or absolute quality of football? Is it games won? Passes completed? Tournaments reached? Silverware won? I am at a loss as to how to quantify this. Short of having the Scotland teams from each era playing each other on a top class modern football pitch with the best of equipment used to ensure fairness there can be no other way to measure how good/shite we have become.

Well quite frankly that is not good enough in my eyes. Football, as a commodity, deserves to be measured and what is more the stats have to be corrected for various factors such as high tech balls, modern boots, better pitches, etc. This measurement once corrected and agreed upon has to become part of an evolving system allowing everyone to see how their team is progressing.

The bottom line is I am sick fed up of the guys who play for us getting paid lots of money and failing; I would like to know, empirically, why these lads are failing and as such how best to get behind them.

I am a passionate Scot, I love my team and I look forward to those great events when the country cheers as one, but what I hate is the ethereal mysticism surrounding our future plans. Hot air hangs over every press conference and association event, people speak grandly, promising to deliver the Earth but in reality not being able to deliver pizza.

Perhaps going forward, so my children do not have to just accept the yoke of “yer team is shite, get on with it” and plough that depressing furrow, perhaps just for once someone can figure out a way to gauge our progress, good or bad and chart this going forward to see whether or not we are improving and indeed whether or not the current lads in those oh so hot seats are making the right choices.

If the promise of capitalism is increased democracy for the consumer, and football is there to be consumed as a delicious commodity, then the perhaps it is time to unleash a tool, a metric, a shit encrusted yard stick to give the emotionally bankrupt supporter like myself something to wave around and help me to get onboard and truly support forthcoming changes, policies and what-not required to improve our game.

Currently we are fumbling around in the dark, paying out loads of cash for what can be a mixed bag in return. Perhaps it is time we stopped relying on the opinions of journalists that happen to align with whatever mood we are in and get straight down to the not so sexy business of publishing something, devoid of bias to tell us where we truly are. It isn’t enough for support to be well intentioned and we need to be better informed and better advised to become better supporters.

I wish we could lead the world, if at least not on the pitch then off it. Then, maybe then, I can emotionally budget with one less loss looming on the intoxicated horizon.

Spray-on Ugly!

2011-08-25T13:01:00.003+01:00

Good afternoon. I thought I would devote today’s rant to fake tan. I have heard innumerable reasons from girls as to why they douse themselves in the stuff so start off I shall eliminate the two most common myths of fake tan as evangelised by the various ladies I have encountered that use the stuff:

1. It makes you look healthy.

Since when was jaundice healthy? Acute renal failure could never be classified as healthy glow. Also I wasn’t aware that being Tangoed was part of your five a day. Looking orange is not healthy and not matter what anyone tries to tell you when you have a skin tone akin to that of a Satsuma or an oopa-loompa then no, you are not looking healthy. To me healthy is exuded from looking natural and not like you are on the verge of some of your vital organs cascading into failure.

2. My own skin colour is too pale/blotchy

Now if you were a Goth being pale would be a positive boon, so it just shows you that not all girls hang about in the right crowds. And then there is the blotchy argument which holds about as much water as a saturated napkin. By dialling up the orange you are merely changing the colour tone of the blotches; if they ever existed anywhere other than the fake bake encrusted dreamers imagination.

I have also thought previously that it maybe that people just want to look like they can afford foreign holidays, but in my experience I’ve never came home from holiday orange. Further to this my experience in working with both Korean & Chinese girls has taught me that they try to look as white as possible leading me a conclusion that I would have been shot down for if I opened this post with: women really need to give themselves a shake.

I mean seriously. These companies, such as PZ Cussons Beauty LLP (that manufacture San Tropez) are actually profiteering on women’s insecurities. I am confident that under scientific rigour these products could categorically be proven not to enhance the look, desirability or any other feature of the user other than to make them look like their kidneys have gone on strike.

I for one like girls, pale, blotchy, black, brown, Asian or however they are supposed to look. If you are ugly then you are ugly, spend the money that you would have frittered away on fake tan trying to become interesting to compensate for the ugly. If you aren’t ugly then slapping on this revolting stuff is not doing you any favours.

Add to this that fake tan stains just about everything it touches and if applied the way most girls do it, goes streaky leaving you with the look of randomised/intermittent renal failure in the least likely places.

9000's top beauty tip: don't fuckin bother. Really, don't, because it is in no one's interest. Now wash that revolting shite off yerself.

La Noire Review

2011-08-24T14:11:00.002+01:00

Before we go any further I find the period of Hollywood getting going extremely intriguing. I like the idea of how this modern colossus started, how LA was born out of a rough frontier, I am very interested in a phenomenon that, against the harsh tide of the worst economic catastrophe to occur in recorded history, grew and grew. Above all else I am interested in America I suppose. I have a lot of time for Yanks even if they can be some of the most annoying examples of human beings on the planet. I love LA Confidential, probably one of the best movies I have ever seen. Essentially I like this period, I have an interest in it and I am keen, we have established this.

Now I shall move onto LA Noire. I am not interested in this one bit. I played about an hours worth and I have to say that the over sanitised Rockstar Games mock up of a period I like is detailed, full of goings on but ultimately shite. When I strolled into Game station and purchased LA Noire I was under the impression I was buying a game. When I got home the full truth hit me, I had bought a dull movie that required me to work some controls.

The graphics and menus are the polished ones I have come to expect from Rockstar games. There is the standard HUD telling you all you need to know once you find yourself ejaculated into the body of a cop named Cole Phelps. But this is where it goes wrong. The game, like Red Dead Redemption, like GTA IV, is a procession of chores. Sure, one could marvel at the detail, the background noises and characters, the fact you are in a representative version of LA, essentially a living city full of autonomous goings on that you can, to an extent, interact with. But in the 1 hour and 3 minutes I played this all I did was run between a series of chores. And these weren’t enjoyable chores like ridding an area of Covenant forces whilst being a heavily armed Spartan or sneaking through an ex-soviet missile silo as a highly trained Third Echelon asset, no these were tedious chores that never at any time made me feel like I was in touch with the period of history I have a genuine interest in.

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of work, care and polish not mention research has went into this, but on the basis of all of this I can’t say it is a good game. For one the controls for running, walking or driving the car are all soft and not precise then there is the shooting which, when stacked up against modern shooters and even the most ordinary of them, is just poor. The game engine tries to be a master of everything and becomes a lukewarm grey paste; unappetising and not leaving me eager for seconds. The controls themselves actually require no effort, just keeping push the movement stick towards where you are going then the character automatically just does his thing, climbing pipes, scampering over fences. It is just not good.

Merriam Webster’s dictionary the definition of the noun game includes words like “competition”, “contest” and even throws in the word “tactic”. In 63 minutes of game time none of these terms could be applied no matter how liberally I tried. The opening shooting scene saw me take prompts to pull a shotgun out the back of the car. I followed the prompts; got my shotgun and 12 cartridges and 40 seconds later I had stopped the bank robbery, sporting not even a scratch for my troubles. I never hid behind anything and even handling the games woeful controls managed to kill every single perp in the process of pilfering.

To take you back a moment, one of my all time favourite games is GTA: San Andreas. That game was cartoony, daft, ultra violent and most importantly fun. You had some chores in that game but they didn’t get in the way of the murder, mayhem and cathartic joy that running into a police station with a flamethrower brings.

This new and quite frankly bent approach to the latest Rockstar games, as perfectly captured by LA Noire, is drudgery in its most distilled form. I agree that the time is nigh for a detective genre to pop up, indeed the technology is there, but I do not want to turn on my Xbox and have to trudge through monotony. I have a family that I love dearly for that. I want to turn on my Xbox and be transported to another place and time, do stuff I can’t do in the real world, I want to shoot zombies, fly space ships, torch the SAPD HQ, be a black gansta that parachutes off tall buildings, be a CIA double operative or even a cute Japanese Manga character with a silly sword and ridiculous purple eyebrows. When the Star Trek crew go to the Holodeck they don’t go to wash the dishes or mow the lawn.

LA Noire does not offer fun, intrigue or require anything even approaching guile.

What LA Noire offers is a brash attempt to be LA Confidential, a clumsy interface from GTA with soggy controls that lead you about by the nose. LA Noire gives you access to a lukewarm experience set against a meticulously rendered but infuriatingly tedious and repetitive GTA based chase this guy, shoot that guy, drive the car and wait for the cut away video sequence backdrop that sharply reminds you where you left the receipt for the game and that you can’t believe everything that comes out of the store clerk’s mouth when you get her recommendations.

Like Red Dead Redemption and GTA IV LA Noire is a well researched, nice to look at and fully featured pile of chores. Great conversation whilst scrubbing a shit encrusted toilet does not greatly detract from the fact you are scrubbing a shit encrusted toilet. Don’t let the nice graphics and impressively full game world full you, LA Noire is not a good game. I read all the glowing reviews and I am left to wonder about how impartial reviewers are. This game has promise but doesn’t even begin to deliver on it. Other game engines (notably the Unreal 3 engine used in Batman Arkham Asylum & Gears of War) have overtaken the one used in this game; other games (Dragon Age or Fallout 3 for example) are more involved and give you a degree of flexibility that your actions shape the story and Halo Reach & Crysis 2 offer better, more action filled and compelling stories.

For me this game offers nothing and it is a real shame that such a good idea derived from such an interesting and intrigue rich period in a genre that is crying out to be populated is so badly executed. This is not a game but a series of chores set against a compelling and polished background.

For that reason I’m giving it 3/10.

Pause, Ponder, Muse, and Get Back to Work

2011-08-24T11:40:00.001+01:00

I have often found myself at this point only really in recent years. I suspect that as I have grown in experience and relative stature within my profession there has been a proportional increase in relative stress. And it manifests itself in funny ways.

At no point in the history of me, beginning triumphantly as it did on Friday October 10th at approximately 1735 hrs have I had need to pause so often and wonder whether or not what I am doing is actually what I want to do or if, in some rather esoteric way I am being trained for something else, something beyond what I am currently doing.

If we are to believe all we are told then the main philosophical thrust of life is to just keep-keep on going, breed, learn, love, live and die, all the whilst extracting maximum value for the period of history you happen to have been ejected into. I somehow feel that I have thus far done that, that even through my myriad and maverick ways I have achieved beyond what was expected of me and then some.

But what the fuck am I doing? That is a terrible question I can’t escape from. At 1113hrs on an increasingly brightening Wednesday morning, surrounded by my colleagues I am propelled back to that question. I have yet to come up with a salient answer.

I often wonder how much of my life I have taken for granted. Despite being rubbish at maths, pathetic at physics and not too shabby at chemistry I became an engineer. I don’t have a flattering academic background yet I command a higher salary that any of my peers that do.

So to pull this rambling and self indulgent chunk of text back to the question with the for effect expletive, I can’t honestly say. Perhaps my underwhelming background has ill prepared me for the challenges that such a mid level position entails. Perhaps this lack of the right stuff is over compensated for by chaining me to a large salary that has become the stick with which I self flagellate? Maybe I just like being pedantic and having big word fuelled hissy fits that give me the nugget of attention required to get me through the day?

I truth I don’t know. What the fuck am I doing? Well if I am honest I can say I am possibly having recorded histories mildest panic attack. I get to a point of emotional investment in my travails that I need to vent and ponder, vent a bit more then indulge in some literary masturbation before getting back on with it. This seems to have a seed of truth about it, but in essence I have to be totally honest and say that I don’t actually like what I do. I don’t. Now in the grand pantheon of jobs I can tolerate this one with a great degree of civility more than I can palette other jobs I’ve had, but sometimes I sit, pause, do that bent little thing I seem to do with my hands behind my head and ponder what I am doing.

Is that part of a large exercise training me for greater things? Perhaps is the answer. Philosophically am I doing the right thing? Aye, I think I am. I provide for my family, I am paying debts back at a rate of knots and I am here, at work, designing things and learning how to be a better engineer.

But what the fuck am I doing, really???? I’m doing what I do everyday when the sun breaks through the clouds of concentration: pause, ponder, muse and get back to work.

Elections Chuff the Wang

2010-04-10T08:40:00.001+01:00

I have been avoiding the media coverage of the impending election. Mostly because auld Dave Cameron annoys the fuck out of me. I wouldn't buy a car off him nevermind want him running the show. Then there is Gordon Brown. He's just sad sack from the Raggy Dolls and with the current fuel prices going bonkers he's bombed out. Also his government passing policies that effectively privatise our nuclear arsenal (under the control of Lockheed Martin) and this idiotic mess they make with drugs policy as well as treating fines like covert tax, he is bombed out. Granted the last two would likely be done by whoever takes power also.

That leaves the Lib Dems. A wasted vote??? Their history is one of reform but in the here and now they ain't doing much. Hot air merchants with some nice ideas.

I think I may just eat my ballot paper. Elections chuff the wang.

P45 for Mowbray

2010-03-24T21:35:00.000Z

As I type this we are 4-0 down to St. Mirren. If that doesn't get this cunt sacked what will???????

9000 Reviews: Inside of Outside blog

2010-03-24T18:04:00.003Z

Pish.

Pub Token Tosh

2010-03-22T11:02:00.001Z

Seen this shite? Pub Tokens? I thought these were pub tokens...

What a ridiculous idea. I bet they even have the cheek to be part of of the Drink Responsibly scheme...

Regurgitation

2010-03-21T12:23:00.000Z

I do so enjoy trawling through the old stuff and patting myself on the back for an entry well written...Even if it was 5 years ago, I still want the wardrobe...

Friday, October 07, 2005

The Lying Cunt, The Bitch and The Wardrobe

Now I like my work collegues, they are generally nice, but sometimes they can be arseholes. Take the financial director of the company, he is a dick. He had us all in cold sweats about our money, panicing that we would go another week of being unable to afford a Metro ticket, let alone eat or pay our exuberant El Corte Ingles salmon fuelled lifestyles. Lying cunt, I got payed last night, so thanks for nothing ya arsehole, I nearly had a heart attack. Cunt.

As for PMT, I know it is no a person, but it's a bitch anyway.

Leading me onto the final portion of my rant, The Wardrobe. Now in both countries that I frequent, I have extensive wardrobes. Granted the clothes are shite, but they occupy a lot of space. i was walking past this fancy furniture shop last night thinking to myself, "do these tossers no jist sell whit Ikea dae, only they stick 2 hunner an ninty wan percent oan the price tag?" And there it was, behind aw the overpriced Ikea tat, this big walk in wardrobe. It was the business. This monster rose from the showroom floor like some kind of shanty town mansion, made from the finest cheap wood availible, yuppie shelves that once you see them you'll convince yourself that life without them is just baws. This bad boy had the works, tie storage, individual pant storage compartments, a changing booth, optional access to be made walk through...Delightful.

I want this wardrobe, but as I went to take a picture the guy shut the shutter of the store. Today the wardrobe was gone. I tell ye, fuck any wardrobe that takes ye tae Narnia, I want a walk through with individual pant storage. Besides, going through the wardrobe to Narnia only gets ye involved in an epic battle wi sum big Lion cunt called Aslan, generally the kind of thing that can get you drugs tested at work or done for copyright. Either way, no good.

I'll leave ye noo wi pictures of the big fiesta from 2 weeks ago, La Mercé. Viel spass kiddies!

Playlist for the Week

2010-03-21T12:14:00.000Z

Something to tickle yer ears wi...

1. Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach / Gorillaz Ft. Snoop Dogg & Hypnotic Brass Ensemble / Plastic Beach

2. Scandalous / Prince / Batman OST (1989)

3. Do you Know Where? / Jamiroquai / Travelling Without Moving

4. So Weit Wie Noch Nie / Jürgen Paape / DJ Kicks: Erlend Øye

5. White Socks/Flip Flops / Super Furry Animals / Dark Days/Light Years

6. Rubicon / Alan Braxe & Fred Falke / DJ Kicks: Erlend Øye

7. Believe (Photek Remix) / Goldie / Believe

8. Love Rollercoaster / Ohio Players / Grand Theft Auto Soundtracks: San Andreas

9. Snakeblood / Leftfield / The Beach OST

10. Cups / Underworld / Beaucoup Fish

Download it, love it and finally lament the direction your life has taken that you are taking recommendations from the likes of me. Peace.

The Age of Jocky

2010-03-20T13:32:00.001Z

Teckle!

Funniest thing I’ve read in ages.

Wha’s in charge!?!?

Thought for the Day

2010-03-17T10:44:00.000Z

I was at a quiz last night. Absolutely gutted; I missed out winning the whole thing narrowly at the last question.

“Where do most women have curly hair?”

Who would have thought the answer was Africa…

America: Yer Patter is Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite!

2010-03-17T07:49:00.002Z

St. Paddy’s Day is upon us. Half day today, away to the pub to celebrate cultural diversity and get loaded with the drink anaw. I can’t help but think of my comrades in America, Cmdt. Lobo and Capt. Clarky, two Irish lads over in NY for Paddy’s day. Fishing with dynamite and a dirty great big net. Fuckin septic tanks love that, the auld world patter.

Tony doesnae love their patter. I wish to take this St. Paddy’s day to point out how fuckin bad their patter is. Ever seen Friends? Either a neurotic but pumpable bird or some fuckin drug addled homo comes sauntering into a room, cue canned laughter. They point out something obvious, hilarity seemingly ensues. Yer left wondering what just happened and why the lady in your life is suddenly looking chuffed to bits after spending the opening 45% of the week scowling at you. Darma & Gregg; never watched it but its just there, blocking up a channel on Sky.

Then I come to 3 and a Half Men. There is a barber quartet signing “Men-men-men-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen” in-between scenes and a half sober Charlie Sheen cashing in on what can only be described as TV “shootey-in”. I can forgive Sheen for this TV abomination mostly because he was in Navy Seals but also because he likes strangling prostitutes whilst snorting coke off their hairy muffs. I have no proof of this, but he looks like that sort of guy. Which is the only reason why you’d watch the show. The writers at least know this otherwise they’d have cast one of the many ubiquitous retards that appear in these shows; which accounts for the rest of the cast of that homo-erotic farce. Sheen strolling about not giving a fuck was a master stroke of casting and that shows you the psychology of these cunts; “look we know the script is bad, we’ve seen telly fae other countries, lets just no bother paying some dobber to scribe mair pish onto a page, lets just pour the cash into having Sheen knock hookers off in his trailer after filming is done that way cunts will watch it and advertising revenue will come barrelling in”.

Thus exposing a fundamental flaw in Yank culture; their motivation for anything. When the bold lads who wrote Fr. Ted bagged the first season they knew they had comedy gold. The 2nd season took it up a notch. These lads done it to be funny and somewhere along the way being funny gets you paid. These boys had the patter down and even distilled it into the I.T. Crowd, although to a tamer extent. We’ll no talk about Big Train because it derails my argument (haw-haw ya willys!).

These cunts in every aspect of their lives are motivated by greed. So when my two Irish chums are over in NY, putting very little effort into getting their end away just think, “this tart has nae patter and is only thinking about climaxing and any St. Paddy’s day ‘I humped an actual Paddy’ kudos”. Bear that in mind as yer delivering a teeth rattler two these septics lads. If you know their motivation up front then it is easier to get what you want in the long run.

Happy St. Paddy’s day!

P.S. Don’t think of me lads when you’re pistoning away; Tony’s coupon will knock ye off yer stride and give ye pause for thought.

Black by Popular Demand

2010-03-16T13:22:00.000Z

Changed the name and got bored of flying under the radar.

Re-Re-Re-Rewind

2009-07-19T23:41:00.002+01:00

I do ever so much enjoy digging up past glories; if clip shows are good enough for the Simpsons & Family Guy then I can dig old stuff up too. I said this sometime ago and it is truer now more than ever:

I'll fuckin "pet sound" ye ya wee prick

Aye. I must be right out of touch, or maybe I'm the only sane one?

Before I left sunny Scotland I was not happy with what I saw as "radio 1" culture. As I listen live to radio 1 via the net I realise that fucking Radio 1 is shite. I knew this before, but now my hatred for this purile shite has tripled. "Babyshambles", "The Kaizer Chiefs". These fucking bands are God awful. Then listening to the lovely Edith Bowman rant on about kitsch 80s stuff and funny guests for her show on Friday, people that are so niche like Columbo, aye, here, dig Telly Savales up, that'll be kitsche/niche/sufficiently wanky. Fuck off. Radio 1 must listen to list, punctuated by nonsense about fucking fitba (it's really cool to have tits and like fitba, whit happened to real birds that don't drink pints and know fuck all about sport). This shite really burns ma blood, this fuckin cultural vacuum of shite music "must listen to" fuckin drivel, some arsehole who thinks the Knightrider theme tune makes him a celeb cos he played it on the radio. Aye, it's cool tae aw hate the Crazy Frog album, it is shite, but at least they know it ya Big Brother watching crotch sniffin trogladyte.

ARSEHOLES.

And don't get me started on the fat fuck Moyles, whit a fat arsehole bereft of ideas and sound dietry advice. It was bad enough that that slabbery mongo (that is still doable) Sarah Cox was on the radio, but now I am exposed to a Scottish bird and a token Northern Irish twat gibber in ma ear about Napoleon Dynamite. "It is like so funny" says Edith. Watching a cunt with a ginger afro talk aboot ninja gear isnae funny, go fuck yersel. I for one didnae really like that Movie. Whilst being midly entertaining and well made, WAS NOT FUNNY. A "Liger"? Fuck off ya fuckin ging John MacEnroe 80s throwback FANNY.

And who the fuck are "Razorlite"? These fucking wee mongos wi guitars and their dreery fucking caterwailing about "Suspect(ing) riots" and whatever flacid noise they endlessly churn oot. Radiohead, Manic St Preachers, REM, Super Furry Animals, fuck, even the Stereophonics for fucksake, some real fucking bands, no this "Pet sound" Jo Whiley tinkering with her spongy minge nonsense. Fuck off and huv mair weins ya scrotter.

Ah fuckin cannae go daytime Radio 1. I'd love tae smack aw they bawbags wi a big spanner.

Am away fur a moist towelette and and can of Fanta, ma work here is done.

Fuckin retards.

More Automotive Atrocities

2009-03-26T22:19:00.002Z

Why even bother extracting the metal from the ground, refining it and then working on it if this is what your going to do to it?

Another Ray Charles design classic right here.

Homo Erotic Bagpiping

2009-03-26T22:14:00.002Z

A`telling little look and a cheeky wink in the eye of a faux Scotsman...

Sometimes pictures speak for themselves. Everyone I meet is Scottish, no one is Canadian apparently, especially no this pair.

Those are skirts lads and please, for fuck sake, get a room together and keep that wee display out of the public eye...

Do The Sleeve Sneeze

2009-03-26T22:10:00.002Z

Since common sense isn't so common and sense of any kind is at a premium on this continent, posters like this abound.

Fuck Knows

2009-03-26T21:32:00.001Z

Automotive Atrocities

2009-03-23T18:35:00.002Z

look at the state of that hideous monstrosity. The salesmen must be shit hot here to flog these ridiculous wastes of metal. Honest to fuck, every car manufacturer on this continent must have employed Stevie Wonder as a car styling consultant with David Blunkett & Ray Charles designing the final, unpolished product.

My daughter could design better than that and she has can't even walk yet.

Snow Fair

2009-03-23T18:10:00.005Z

On a scale of 1 to 10 I'd give snowboarding 8. It's good, just a pity that I've not mastered the heel control thing or graceful dismount of the chair lift; the only 360 degree spins I managed was falling on my crack off the chair lift after a rather gay looking tumble.

Slick.

Mission Ridge, where we went snowboarding is weird. You go down into a valley, not up to the mountains. My colleague (above) spent as much time as myself on his rump, so that made me feel better that he had been snowboarding before and yesterday was my 1st time.

Big hill, nae bother, right down there, nae problems. Didn't even go on my arse once. Fell on my head a few times though. Not the best fun I've had.

Not ideal if you have vertigo. Brilliant for suicide though since you can lift the safety bar.

Finally the money shot.

Finally the mongoloid shot.

Snowboarding was good, more practice required so I don't look like such a fanny, skidding down a big hill on my arse with the board up in the air and not on the snow.

Slick.

Ice Barred

2009-03-17T05:56:00.003Z

Dave, Michael, Duncan and behind the bar is the proprietor.

Ice balls with things in them. They don't taste as nice as they look.

$5.00 for charity for vodka. Whose charity I'm no sure about...

There was no Heineken, but plenty of erect nipples.

Nice place, but certain comments to certain bar staff may have got me barred. I'm typically unrepentant.

Longer, Harder and More Discrete

2009-03-17T05:29:00.004Z

I think there are loads of sexually unsatisfied Canadians out there. I tried watching Star Trek: Nemesis and every fucking 5 minutes I have some irritating second rate Alex Baldwin look-a-like prick telling me I could be everything my bird tells me I am anyway, selling this shite:

He's sitting there with his wife and she's saying how they got that magic back in their relationship. I wonder how this list of ingredients:

Ingredients

Folate (Folic Acid) 400 mcg

Zinc (as Zinc Oxide) 25mcg

Micronized DHEA (dehydroepiandrosterone) 50 mg

Pregnenolone (3B-hydroxypregn-5-en-10-one) 10 mg

Extenze Bio-Enhancement Support 25 mg:

Black Pepper (seed)

Piper longum (seed)

Ginger (root)

ExtenZe Sexual Response Ehnhancement Support 600 mg:

Yohimbe Extract (bark) Provides 12.5mg Yohimbe alkaloids

Tribulus terrestris Extract (aerial part and fruit) Provides 50 mg furansterol

Korean Ginseng Extract (root) Standardized to 10% gensenosides

Cridium Monnier (sic) (seed) (probably Cnidium)

Eleutherococcus Extract (root) Standardized to .8% eleuthrosides

Xanthroparmelia scarbosa (sic) (aerial part) (possibly Xanthoparmelia Scabrosa)

Gamma-Aminobutyric Acid - GABA

Velvet Deer Antler

Horny Goat Weed (leaf)

Damiana (leaf)

Muira puama Extract (Stem)

Pumpkin (Seed)

Stinging Nettle (Root)

Astragalus (Root)

Licorice Extract (Root)

L-Arginine Hydrochloride

Ho shou wu Extract (Root),

Hops (Strobile) Extract (Blossom),

Boron (As Chelate)

Could make your cock 27% longer and ignite that spark back into your relationship. How dull do you have to be not to realise that 27% of my cock isn't the equivalent of someone else's? So whilst you're contemplating how you can get your hands on these, there are Viagra ads a plenty to look forward to. All with a very extensive list of side effects at the end of the ad might I point out. And if that doesn't put you off then the warning for the adverts for anti-depressants, "may cause suicidal thoughts and constipation" should be enough to let you know how fucked in the head people on this continent are.

The next infomercial:

Should really hammer it home what bollocks advertising is here.

Incidentally look up ExtenZe on You tube for a further idea of what bollocks is on the TV here every 3 seconds.

I'll no moan about Sky anytime soon.

9000 Reviews Canadian Toilets

2009-03-11T03:45:00.003Z

Generally the bowls are too low to the ground, filled with too much water (prior to use), the flushes are too aggressive and the toilet seats really just aren't where you want to spend half an hour typing up a blog.

4/10; a full two points more than I award Canadian TV and it's Aboriginal Achiever Award Show.

Drink Canada Dry

2009-03-11T03:35:00.002Z

Far be it from me to follow prescribed advice.

Well losers, I have to confess that the blogging malaise is down to laziness, being busy and generally just not really having much to type about; I've really been doing a lot of my moaning outside of this electronic soapbox/forum.

Anyway, I'm in Canada working for a few weeks. It is currently -40 deg C. This type of weather really isn't funny. What kind of person settles in a place that is so cold you swear your snotters become frozen treats instead of the usual fresh fayre?

That aside, Canadian people by and large seem nice. Stay tuned for 9000's impartial review of Regina which I know you are all quite frankly on the edge of your seats waiting for, with a small yet vocal cross section of you having trouser incidents during this nail biting build up period.

Anyway, check yersel before ye wreck yersel cos -40 deg C is bad for yer health.

Word tae yer maw.

Chop Chop!

2008-10-09T12:19:00.003+01:00

Stage 1 in my preparations to become Chopper; the tasche! Now for some just for men liberally applied, a really ugly shirt and for Dave to draw on the tatoos and I'll be ready. Halloween is less than 30 days away, so you chumps really should get your skates on if you want to Chopper it up big style.

Note the handle bar arrangement, very homoerotic. I should point out that certain members of the Chopper fan club haven't quite been equipped with all the necessary hormones to grow such a Chopperesque piece of facial hardware. My advice at this stage is to man the fuck up.

Tooooooooooooo bloody right mate

9000 Reviews Jim Davidson's Career

2008-10-09T12:11:00.002+01:00

A complete fucking waste of time.

Renegades in this Atomic Age

2008-10-02T12:20:00.003+01:00

I sometimes wonder why people can't see the world for what it is. Take America, for example, the most corrupt and confused nation in the world. Their own people see themselves as the liberators of a suppressed world because they leave school with the Founding Fathers words still ringing in their heads and they, by and large, do not question this. The Founding Fathers had an epic idea, one of the most beautiful in modern history, but it has become a warped and hideous social experiment that threatens everyone else they share the planet with.

There is an important turn of phrase; share the planet.

Every so often someone like Dr. Martin Luther King, Kier Hardie, Nelson Mandela or Ghandi come along and we flock to these people. What I don’t understand is that the world is such a fuckin awful place and people like this showed us the way out yet most us don’t see it.

I bet none of us (myself included) will or have done anything about the state of the world. Large corporations, corrupt governments (including our own) and many groups of people have conspired (unintentionally) to create this world we live in, a world where we give money to serial human rights abusers for oil, a world where we let the Americans bully everyone, a world where we let billions starve so we can have big fuck off weapons and other shite we neither need or want. I will include the LHC in this rant; €12 billion on a machine that may destroy the universe and ultimately may provide no benefits to mankind. Did you know if the Americans poured 8%, just 8% of their military budget into healthcare then everyone in that enormous country could enjoy free healthcare? I wonder how many weapons or advanced aircraft 8% buys.

So back to what I am ranting about, why the fuck do we let all of this go on? I personally know why I do nothing about it; I’m too wrapped up in my own shit, wading through great lakes of it everyday to do anything about it. Others divert their energies and indeed lives towards changing the world for the better. Renegades in this Atomic Age.

Maybe we should be more supportive of these people in future because it is not everyone who can do what they do.

What I don’t understand is why no one would want to do these things. Now more than ever I sometimes wonder why people can't see the world for what it is.

Barry Trotter and the Philospher's Scone

2008-09-25T12:29:00.002+01:00

I never have enjoyed the Harry Potter movies. Thus far I have been out with 2 girls who were totally fascinated by the little speccy git and his wand and even with them trying their very best I was never able to discern what they actually liked about the movie or the books...

On the subject of Philosphy, has anyone got any experiences they care to report of Philosopher's Stone mushrooms? It could very well form part a new wee project I am planning...

Nothing else of note really. Slow week.

Pint Anyone?

2008-09-18T12:44:00.003+01:00

You give blood?

You should. Trust me. Today it amounted to an hour off work to lay down somewhere whilst decent looking nurses fussed over me then fed me biscuits. Whit's the cost? A Pint of Blood? Nae bother Dracula, enjoy, I'll take a few of those TUC (not union affliated) biscuits please.

So now I'm going to apply to be in an advert, one saying that I gave blood and someone owes me! You know the ad's, like the one where Gary Lineker thanks someone for saving his sons life. I'd like to pick my celeb to save though; I'd much rather my blood was used to drown Margaret Thatcher rather than prolong her life, for example.

Indeed, that is a thought, who is going to benefit from my blood. I could publish a list of those who I don't want getting any of it, but that'll take forever, there are a lot of people I wouldn't mind seeing die.

Take Phil Collins, for example. That cunt just deserves to die for crimes against my ear drums. I wouldn't be happy if a pint of my blood allowed that bald prick to make another album.

One thing though; the form before you give blood asks, for men only, if you have had unprotected sex or oral with another man. Does this mean there is some kind of gay only disease that guys get that disqualifies them from giving blood??? Given my current level of faith in the NHS I am more inclined to think that they reckon homosexuality is transmitable; contaminated blood or taking a shot in the mouth from a Freddie Mercury look-a-like is enough to smite you it seems.

You heard it here first folks; Freddie Mercury look-a-likes turn you gay.

If the Bead is reading this, gay people don't normally suck blood or sleep in coffins; that's vampires mate. Or really gothic poofs. It is hard to tell really...

Cheerio Strachan

2008-09-17T22:27:00.002+01:00

Another night and finally the wee ginger dude's luck catches him up;

I shan't go into it because I cannot be bothered, but suffice to say I'm adding my voice or starting the chants for Wee Gordon to move on.

Consistent poor play, bad tactics, awful player selections, unfathomable formations and generally poor signings: time to go Gordon, sorry, I like you, but I much prefer you in charge of someone else.

Visit www.celticquicknews.com for an alternative appraisal.

Techno Oma

2008-09-16T21:50:00.001+01:00

Barry Scott Here!

2008-09-11T12:23:00.001+01:00

Cunt Kicking of a Lifetime

2008-09-10T12:23:00.003+01:00

Read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_O)

Now read this:

I booked flights to go see my better half today; I was happy out, only paying the tax which ultimately added up to around £35. The final cost of the flights was £44; all because I used a debit card to book the flights.

I've fuckin had enough. For the last time that wee rude prick O'Leary has got on my fuckin goat. I have been stranded, kept late, forced to pay double and charged silly amounts and almost lost my job because of fuckin Ryanair, but yet thanks to their monopoly on the routes I use I have to use them.

So I am offering this edict; Me vs the bold O'Leary, in the fuckin ring, 3 rounds and I fuckin guarantee that I'm the only one getting back out at the end of it. The conditions of the fight are that if I win I get all the money I've ever spent with Ryanair back and it goes to charity plus he has to drop the sneaky wee charges and just be honest about things, i.e. how much things actually costs and drop all the sneaky hidden or not advertised charges. No point on concentrating on the what if's if he wins: that will not fuckin happen; there is more chance of Rangers fans washing.

3 rounds anything goes and I guarantee I’ll fuckin destroy the obnoxious, greedy wee prick; I’ll leave enough of him so he can enact the changes and see his kids…from a fuckin hospital bed…

So if you’re reading this O’Leary, you have fuckin been served! I’ve had enough of your shite airline, your god awful planes, your stupid fuckin staff (how many gay Polish cunts do you lot employ?!?), you’re over priced food, that annoying wee trumpet sound hailing another “on time flight”; fuckin 90% on time? I must be getting the wonky 10% for all my flights. I mean how do you figure out that you’re 90% on time??? Is fuckin Stevie Wonder and David Blunkett writing down the stats for you??!?!

Take this as an official notice, I will kick your cunt in front of an audience for charity and for change and for my own personal satisfaction at watching you slumped in a bloody mess.

This one is for all your customers ya fuckin dick.

The Return of Jimmy Treefingers

2008-09-09T13:09:00.003+01:00

There ye go, the bold Jimmy Treefingers is back after 3 years of obscurity.

Treefingers is a product of mescaline soaked red bull & Jagermeister madness.

Thanks for the memories Barcelona...

1 in the hand is worth 3 in the bush...?

2008-09-09T12:42:00.001+01:00

Be happy with your lot.

That’s easy to say when you’re as handsome, erudite, healthy and lovable as me. What happens when you’re a deaf, blind and retarded mute with bad body odour?

Aye, the cunt that uttered the above line clearly was on top of the world at the time.

I’m young, I have some money and my health; what more could I ask for?

A fuckin speed boat, 10 goats, Chris Eubank’s monocle, herpes, who knows…

All that glitters is not gold

This you would know all too well if you were a Celtic fan or a jeweller…or a Christmas decoration enthusiast.

I’m going to go through today without uttering sayings to other people; try it, it’s no easy…

Aeropuerto/Granja

2008-09-08T12:33:00.002+01:00

Like some kind of fat, semi-retarded security guard chasing a shop lifter with a gammy leg; that is the best way to describe most people running through airports. I try to compose myself, often with a modicum of success and never look like I’m in a hurry. Heaven forbid I’d lose all my traveller cool and status by appearing unorganised in what, after 6 years of globe trotting, should be my natural environment.

Aye, the airport should be the habit of my kind’s choosing, but the more I travel, the more I realise there is no such thing as “my kind”. The people I encounter in airports always come off like they have never travelled before. Either that or I am a pensioner magnet come time to go through customs. There I am, my bag packed with a precision that has travel show presenters creaming their pants and it takes hours to get through customs and why? Some dithery auld prick has more metal on him than a successful scrappy and has the documents he needs, it’s just they are buried under 40 million layers of clothing, which the customs guy is insistent they also remove.

Once fighting your way past the late brigade, galloping through the airport like wild herds of kids with Down syndrome, jacked up on 50 cans of Red Bull, and the starring cast of the last 2 World Wars at customs you are then confronted with the lap top crew, all sitting typing shite into their lap tops.

Are there no normal people in airports?

I have a theory that travel of this nature brings out the absolute worst in people. Cooping people up in battery hen conditions, herding them here and there before ramming them mercilessly into plane; perhaps by thinking of an airport like a big fuck off human farm we can see why there are so many spastics in airports; livestock don’t exactly look switched on in transit, do they?

Fuckin cattle we are and it seems acceptable that this is how modern travel is. The worst part is that no one seems able or willing to challenge this way of travelling and the only way around it seems to be taking private charters everywhere. I’m sure I won’t be moaning about airports once I win the Euro Millions and can avoid all ye livestock in the airport. Until such times though, baa to you to.

Re-Runs!!!

2008-09-03T12:37:00.001+01:00

Originally posted Tuesday, August 14, 2007....

Dear T-Mobile

There are 2 versions for your edification:

Dear Fuck Pigs,

Whilst wishing that you simultaneously die of bone cancer whilst E-Coli gets right in amongst your genitalia, I want in made clear that you are an abomination on the bleak landscape that is CRM. Seriously, you lepers are going down like the Luisitania , where was the clear warning of how much this download would cost? Buried under several layers of mind crushing pish and vinegar on your website is where, and even then it is as clear as a Pikey's used bath water.I received no formal warning that this download would hump me for 17 bangers so in lieu of some kind of credit back on to my bill, I wish locusts, Les Dennis' Mavis fae Corrie impersonation and train crashes on all of you although I would prefer you all lived long enough to refund me that £17 first.

Get pumped losers,

Kisses,Somemachine

Or else there is the tamer version:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am writing to ascertain why I was charged £17 for a download without due warning, whether that be in the form of a pop-up message on my mobile or a pre-download disclaimer.Since I was charged £17 for , I have taken upon myself, as it is my legal duty to familiarise myself with such detail, as described in the consumer law and tariff article of the Consumer Law revision 1998 (laid down in in 1998, chapter 2, article 4, 4th amendment). Upon discovery of the tariff information on the T-Mobile Website (http://www.t-mobile.co.uk/shop/mobile-phones/price-plans/u-fix/u-fix-webnwalk/plans/) I am quite frankly appaulled and astounded that you expect anyone to comprehend you pricing structure.

This sheer lack of forthright information coupled with no prior warning of potentially high costs that could be, and in this case have been, invoked is not only irresponsible on the part of T-Mobile, but also unacceptable to me as a customer; given that I have fulfilled not only my legal duty, but also contractual duty to T-Mobile to become aware and knowledagble of costs & tariffs associated with my contract.I therefore find it reasonable that I should be reimbursed for the full cost of this download, as, I did not receive suitable warning of the implied cost of such a download, and, had I received such a warning would have been disinclined to initiate such a data transaction.

In addition to this I would also very much appreciate that in future T-Mobile take further steps to be a fully responsible data and content provider and make customers and visitors to their services fully aware of implied charges and projected costs that services such as this download are accompanied with.
Kindest regards,

Somemachine.

So good I thought I'd post it again.

Come to Daddy...

2008-09-03T12:10:00.003+01:00

Seen this:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/7593336.stm

According to this your bird/wife/thai pseudo-lady partner (unpaid for) is with you because you look like their dad.

I would just like to dispell this theory because if it were true I would be 4 inches shorter, balding with red hair, Irish and in possession of a kindly face.

I don't buy this at all.

If you act like a bird's da though, then that is a different kettle of pish; birds normally think their fathers are the embodiment of manliness and all that other stuff that gets their pulses racing, so a wee hint, take yer cues from your bird's faither if ye want to know how to get into her good graces.

Either that or get loads of money and have super models dripping off you because you're loaded; that is an infinitely less complex way to a ladies heart as the strumpets will bugger off once the money dries up or someone richer comes along.

There is a thing to email in to the BBC to see if this sexual imprinting theory is right, think I'll gie it a bash...

...Watch this space...

Cock Spanner

2008-09-03T12:07:00.002+01:00

1.
cock spanner
5 up, 1 down
A person that uses their genitals as a source of income! The bread winner of the house (also a porn star) is known as a cock-spanner!
That Ron Jeremy (the famous pornstar) is a real Cock spanner!!
porn star meat wand chimp bigallow p.t.w

You'll Be Under My Wheels

2008-08-28T12:32:00.002+01:00

Whit is the problem wi people driving in the morning? Seriously, is it a requirement when, before 0800hrs and in the rain that you drive with absolute contempt for everyone around you, not bothering to consider that you can't stop so quickly on wet roads?

And whilst I've bothered my arse to go on a driving related rant, whit is the fuckin point of women drivers housed in obscenely humongous all terrain tractors, only ferrying themselves to work, using the other 90 million fuckin seats for their self importance. Fuckin ban hammer for these cows.

I believe that the driving test requirement should be a lot higher; who cares about spastics that can’t pass the theory bit, fuck em. You should also have to sit in a high speed crash simulator and be made to drive on the motorway. I know people who have had their driving licences longer than I’ve been breathing and can’t drive a journey more than 10 miles or drive anywhere that requires motorway travel or intercity driving. The question there is how has that person still got a licence?

I think as soon as I can I shall stop driving to work in the morning, get away from these demented fuck wits and their selfish, shite awful fuckin driving.

On the lighter side of things, at least I’m in a good mood today, despite various attempts to sabotage that state of affairs.

Veni Vidi Vicious

2008-08-26T12:10:00.002+01:00

It is hard to sit and write things down. Do you write and tell the general public the dull minutae of your private life? Do you post contenscious stuff that gets people into trouble and could cost you your job?

All these things went through my head, and I thought about why I started keeping a blog; I'm a moaning faced tosser and sometimes it isn't enough to burden those around me with my problems, so I transcend media to bitch and whine.

So to recap:

Big Chris is in hospital dying...

I've got a new job

And the rest I'll tell ye all later. Either way, I'm back writing and you should all take notes; I'll be testing you later.

And as I promised a member of our Irish audience, no more swear words; see, fuckin brilliant.

"from Arsehole to Breakfast"

2008-04-25T21:55:00.000+01:00

I especially love the title quote...Enjoy...

Conroy's Stag Part One

2008-04-18T17:28:00.005+01:00

Big Warmachine is getting married, so what better way to try and ruin his life before then than to take him to Galway, a city full of gorgeous birds, drink, lovely girls, drink and places where the previous lot come together...

It all started off so well, drink, women, more drink, more woman, a few screamers from Haldy's never ending gag reel, then the make-up came out...

And one can only wonder what we're in for when a man as testosterone brimmed as Conroy wears make-up...

You guessed it, bad things. From this lunch time photo onwards, Conroy's gorilla like physique was on show for all of the West of Ireland to see.

It wasn't pretty, it wasn't necessary, but it was funny. And disturbing. Someone said arousing, but that someone is now dead under some railway tracks/patio/Fred West style location.

Pat Sharp even turned up. Fun was ad by all. Part 2 shall follow...

Spazmo Karioke

2008-04-18T00:43:00.000+01:00

laughing at spazzies is funny and I defy anyone to prove me wrong...

Shite Joke Saturday

2008-04-15T21:03:00.001+01:00

Its no Saturday, but check 'dis shit out homefry:

What is E.T. Short for???

'Cos he has wee legs!!!

Surveying The Young Professionals

2008-04-15T20:52:00.002+01:00

Outside of their usual shameless and quite frankly irresponsible self promoting I pleased to announce (without coercion) that The Elvis Suicide have brought out a double A side single titled "Surveying the Young professionals/If I don't Run".

It can be purchased on iTunes, and lets face it, its no more wanky or suicide provoking than anything else on iTunes, so buy it, help some struggling musicians and boost their egos.

You owe me a pint Chris ya smelly dobber.

Aw aye, the single is awrite by the way. Check the link on the right, buy their song and leave abuse on their MySpace page; its the least you should do.

The Gayest Thing I Have Ever Seen

2008-04-15T20:46:00.002+01:00

I think the title says everthing you need to know about this video...

Just Gie Up

2008-02-17T15:34:00.002Z

Life is great and I have nowt to moan about so I think that is one of the reasons why I gave up blogging.

Trend analysis would produce a graph of "pissed off" versus "number of blog entries" and that would show you spikes in blogging activity when I was fucked-off.

Well the Shed was hoaching last night, but as per usual I felt a bit scruffy and a bit like a leper; which is bizarre to be honest as I am pretty much better than most of the punters who frequent that establishment. I am gravitating more towards the Buff Club and other more alternative venues now; the eye candy and promise of bumping into somebody you know isn't enough in my opinion to constitute a good night out.

In suggestions on where is good in Glasgow?

Front Row Seats

2008-02-16T14:48:00.003Z

Get front row seats; I'm back by popular demand. Not black by popular demand though; that would just be ridiculous.

Aye, I actually got emails asking me to start writing my blog again; not only do people in Europe have nothing better to do, but people on other continents have equally as little to fill their times with; well done those people (www.dontyoufeelcrunchy.blogspot.com)

Aye, well I currently have nae patter/banter or gripes. I have noticed that there are a few people that I am not popular with at the moment though; I would like it know that I am not bothered by this, in fact I'm well chuffed that I have annoyed you and stolen some of the most precious commodity you have; time.

Get it rooooond ye.

Stay tuned though, I'm away to see if I can register online to vote in the American elections, but who to vote for; Obama or Hilary? That's like choosing between drowning and burning to death.

Peace out chimps

To My Critics...

2007-12-12T13:00:00.000Z

To my critics:

A big resounding fuck you.

I don't have many critics, but thankfully you all know who you are.

Fuck you very much for 2008 as well.

Kindest Retards,

Tony McCann

Wochenende Wideo

2007-11-16T16:44:00.000Z

Shame

2007-11-10T12:49:00.000Z

The above photo is of Rangers fans burning a Celtic flag.

They were in Barcelona, about to play F.C. Barcelona and yet they were burning a Celtic flag.

You might not be able to take a lot of luggage on the plane any more, but it seems there is plenty of room for bigotry.

Once again I feel really ashamed to be a Scottish football fan.

I wonder how many of the people in this photo tut and disapproved when they see people in the middle east, in justified protest, burning a Union Flag.

All I Know

2007-11-09T17:43:00.000Z

It seems a music video for the weekend is becoming a bit of a habit/tradition/thingy, so since it's Friday...

130 Years of Unsurpassed Dignity

2007-11-09T13:08:00.000Z

This article:

http://www.elmundodeportivo.es/web/gen/20071108/opinion_53409675639.html

Translated below:

PLEASE, DON'T EVER COME BACK AGAIN

Dear Rangers supporters- never come back to Barcelona again. And not because your players themselves aren’t a legitimate team. No, it’s not because of that- the Nou Camp frequently hosts teams who are lazy, boring, who only defend, who run and kick their opponents, and who shouldn’t be in elite competition. On top of this, Rangers merely defend, run at the opposition and play dirty. Their defenders are butchers, their midfielders, heavy-footed; and their strikers just stand there like the furniture.

But even apart from the footballing aspect, the best thing would be for Rangers never to return to Barcelona, because every time they do, they make a mess of the place. 35 years ago, you (the Rangers supporters) destroyed the seats at the Nou Camp. This time we have enjoyed no less than 48 hours of brawls, provocation, rackets, fights and common drunk women throughout the whole city, which you have fouled however you pleased.

Stay at home and vomit in your own living-room, urinate in your sitting-room corners, fight with your neighbours, the Celtic supporters (who deserve a prize just for putting up with you) and foul the streets of Glasgow instead. Don’t come back here again, because it is not a laughing matter. And, by extension, don’t play in the Champions’ League either. You are not at that level neither in a sporting nor human sense.

There are noisy groups of supporters who, although they drink vast amounts of beer, make friends at the same time. But you? Not you, because everywhere you go, you turn into a rubbish tip. You are undesirables. And so are those who fraudulently sell, or “rent out” their tickets. These people screw Barca over, because they trade their season tickets illegally. And in doing this they cause massive annoyance for other members of the club. A true Barcelona fan would not re-sell their ticket for the match. If you are not going to the match, give it to a family member, or you could even use the 'Seient Lliure' service (an automated ticket service used by some Spanish clubs including Barcelona).

From now on, the responsibility lies with UEFA and the club itself to ensure who the ticket is sold to. The best thing for all of us would be that you as a supporter, in a moment of lucidity, decide not to travel if you do not have tickets. As that is never going to happen, those who sell the tickets illegally must be brought to justice. But the best thing would be if we never had to play Rangers again.

I was in Seville in 2003 when Celtic got to the UEFA cup final. Not one person was arrested. I didn't see any signs of vandalism, any fights or any real misbehaviour. In 2004 I was in Barcelona to see Celtic play F.C. Barcelona and there was nothing like the trouble described by the Catalan newspapers after when Celtic visited.

I feel quite hard done by; Celtic go to Spain (Villareal, Barca and Seville) and cause no trouble, making only friends when they are away, yet Rangers seem only to cause trouble when they travel.

I can only assume that the difference in the two sets of fans, both with the same socio-economic backgrounds & geographical location, is education.

Combine this behaviour with the sectarian bile and hearsay from websites like follow-follow & Big Jock Knew and it paints Rangers fans as a sorry, bitter and poorly educated bunch.

If I were a Rangers fan I would be less than happy at the moment.

The video at the bottom of this article says it all.

Today I feel ashamed to be a Scottish football fan.

Classical Muzak

2007-11-07T13:07:00.000Z

What has happened to Muzak? Ye don't hear it any more. Lifts are silent, shops play the radio and big stores even have their own radio stations.

Inevitably the shops will all be playing Christmas tunes now, Wizard's I wish it Could be Christmas Everyday will be gangling through your ears just as you are wondering how long Chris Rea has been Driving Home for Christmas. Not that I would know as I no longer go shopping in shops.

But if I did venture up the town again, I wouldn't mind finding out where still does Muzak.

Ghetto Muzik doesnae count.

Pocket Rocket

2007-11-05T17:36:00.000Z

I know I was ranting away about personal freedoms and such, keen as I am to see the preservation of many of our freedoms, but one such freedom I cannae abide by is fireworks.

This is the scenario in the UK:

"Remember, remember the 5th of November, gun powder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
should ever be forgot"

I wonder how many kids running around with explosive devices in their hands know this rhyme, know what it is about or how clever a little ditty it is to strike fear into all the rebellious souls out there considering treason.

Personally I don't see why there is a celebration of this in Scotland, it is, after all an English thing, Guy Fawkes was English. We would maybe celebrate if he had managed to blow up parliament mind you...

But this begs the question; why the fuck do we, in this Health & safety dominated world, allow youngsters to run about with explosive devices? Sparklers, rockets, bangers, I remember at no time when I was young encountering difficulty in attaining any of these things. Judging by the little cunts running around outside trying to set off all this nicely packaged ordinance the same is true today.

Why not ban the lot of it? Keep it only for November the 5th and for controlled environments like shows, places where trained professionals like the fire brigade are on hand to help out if it goes tits up, as it frequently does. Not only are explosives dangerous to people, but this month long marathon of explosions is cruel to animals and annoying as fuck to me.

The bottom line; I lose sleep, weins lose apendages and my dog loses his heid.

Ban fireworks, ban the fuckin lot of them.

These shifty fuckers that sell them in these quickly assembled seasonal stores, strap them to all their merchandise and launch them intae fuckin orbit.

Catherine wheels up the arseholes of these wee packs of pyromaniac neds running around like some kind of spasticated army platoon with too many explosives and no enough wars.

Finger out yer arse Gordon Brown; ban these dangerous and annoying things and stay clear of my legal highs cunt breath. Please.

Legally High

2007-11-05T13:10:00.000Z

For a good while now I have been using Neorganics stuff and I must say that I have enjoyed it immensely; I have had better nights and none of the shit that comes with getting drunk. I have behaved myself and I have even enjoyed dancing; something I vehemently hate most of the time.

Now as I cast an eye out on the "legal highs" market, I can't help but to notice how many things are being banned. I can't help but to think that this is a shocking state of affairs. Why ban these things?

As a law abiding citizen and chartered professional I am unlikely to break any laws pertaining to controlled substances, but given the latest round up of bans being slapped on things, I am sorely tempted to break the law.

Is it really bad to break laws that make no sense? Is it such a terrible things to want to have fun on more than just the wholesale liquid depressants the government get tax money from?

Think about all the terrible things in the world caused by alcohol and stack them side by side with these soon to be illegal highs.

Banning this stuff benefits nobody and profits nobody.

I can't understand banning these substances, nor can I understand the mindset of those who would.

It would appear that I will have to be stocking up soon given the current government's eager depletion and infringement of personal freedoms and sheer lack of respect for the law.

Monty Python in Lego

2007-11-02T17:13:00.000Z

Thanks to Simone for this one...Another week and I have no written anythin...

The Holy Grail - in LEGO !!
Uploaded by Fishguy5044

How Come...

2007-10-26T17:04:00.000+01:00

How come in the UK this is sort of figure a rare sight:

Yet this:

Is the accepted norm? We've all banged a few fattys, some more than others (nae prizes for guessing who), but why the fuck is this now the accepted norm? We all know the evils of under eating and anorexia and all that pish, but the fact of the matter is that there are too many fat bitches on the rampage. When yer out on the prowl, some lard endowed mare is not what you set your sights on early on in the night. Granted fatties have their rightfully deserved place at 3am when the chips are down and you are in dire need to stick your love somewhere, but really, girls, put that kilo of dairy milk down, stop tutting at these disgustingly thin celebs in magazines and get yer arses down the gym, exercise the drink off and comport yourself like a lady and less like an ice cream van assassin.

Nae cunt thanks ye for being fat. No boyfriend is understanding about tires gained in a relationship and naw, ye cannae have ma last Rolo.

Exercise, eat right and drink less, that's Tony's top tip; make my Saturday nights out less harsh on the eyes.

Letter of Application to HM Customs

2007-10-19T13:04:00.000+01:00

Dear Sir/Madam,

I wish to apply for the post of "annoying cunt at passport control". It has long been my ambition to work for a completely self absorbed and arsey organisation such as HM customs. I am, in particular, really thrilled by the prospect of being a complete arsehole to everyone with absolutely no come back; a captive audience for my cunt-faced display of pure bureaucratic tomfoolery.

I feel that in addition to my meagre qualifications, my poor grasp of English and inumeriacy, I have many other desirable qualities that I could bring to the job:

1) I really have no conscience (couldnae gie a fuck) about wasting the tax payers money on standing about being a pure fud
2) I love being a complete prick to people
3) I have no idea if I'm coming or going
4) I enjoy wearing a uniform
5) I'm authoritarian and I like making up rules as I go along

I'm sure that all these desirable qualities coupled with my bad breath and malodorous presence should be enough to endear me to any HM Customs management. Also once you realise what a jobs-worth tosser I am, then you'll snap me up like a clean cup of water on a hot day in Ethiopia.

Yours wankily,

Mr. 9000

Now to find an envelope...

Cannae Be cunted writing anything

2007-10-16T16:53:00.000+01:00

Just watch the videos, reading is baws for the day.

Shabba!

2007-10-16T16:12:00.000+01:00

Bussy-Ness

2007-10-09T13:12:00.000+01:00

I've said it before, but it's still true:

I'm not a businessman; I'm a business, man.

Meetings, club sandwiches at Schipol, Samsonite luggage, cold handshakes, company expense forms and all the airport parking you can eat.

You've got to love this international, jet set, exec lifestyle; it keeps me in black & white check Vans.

The Sun Shines on Ruchill

2007-10-09T13:01:00.000+01:00

Told ye.

Apple iPhone

2007-09-25T13:07:00.000+01:00

To buy or not to buy?

This is an easy one for me; NO.

The Apple iPhone is wonderful example of how modern consumerism works; huge amounts of advertising, marketing and hype channelled at you for long enough and suddenly you will crumble and buy it, because you have convinced yourself that it is the device/gadget for you.

In comparison to an Sony Ericsson K800i as a phone this thing falters miserably. No 3G, rubbish camera, difficult to use keyboard, abysmal SMS capablities, no bluetooth porno sharing in the pub, no bluetooth stereo,no ringtones you haven't already bought from iTunes and if you want to do anything even remotely different then you have to unlock it and guess what, unlockign it requires some knowledge of coding and a a shit load of patience.

Like all Apple products this thing is locked and demands that you use Apple software and Apple peripherals. So I ask myself, isthe hype and marketing worth it? It is good looking, but is it worth it?

No way. I have already owned a Neonode N1, fully touch screen and innovative and guess what? It was problems from the beginning and complications and rubbish.

The best news of all for me seems to be that the iPhone is actually not very good as a phone.

So beyond the marketing what is the point?

http://www.o2.co.uk/iphone

Cyber Bullying and Grease the Movie

2007-09-24T13:05:00.000+01:00

What the fuck is cyber-bullying?

It was all over the BBC news on Friday morning and I've heard it twice over the weekend; people getting pelters online? Videos and death threats?

What a lot of shite. I would be more inclined to spent time reporting on falling educational standards rather than a bunch of fuckin cry babies greeting about some wee punk putting videos of them online.

The news had some fat wee reptile of a lassie on, recanting her agony over cyber bullying, and from looking at her horrific wee features I'd be more inclined to be worried about someone taking out a mercy killing on her rather than online harassment; at the end of the day you can just turn the computer/mobile off.

This seems to be yet another pile of pish that my tax money is being spent on.

Grow a fuckin spine and deal with bullies in a more proactive way instead of counselling these wee freaks; the playground is a perfect representation that nature is all about the survival of the fittest, so get fit.

Aw aye, I hate grease the movie, it is a vile abomination and Travolta's bum chin has never been more prevalent. There, I'm cyber bullying Grease the movie.

Sick Joke Central

2007-09-21T13:04:00.000+01:00

Well, since Madeline McCann is fair game for jokes:

Q: What is the difference between Colin McRae and Gary Glitter?

A: Only 2 kids went down in Colin McRae's chopper.

Get ye down in hell, poolside preferably.

The Ikea Nesting Instinct

2007-09-20T13:05:00.000+01:00

Ingvar Kamprad is a right sneaky fucker. Think about it. Suddenly we live in the midst of an epidemic of guys who are worried about throw rugs and stylishly functional kitchen paraphernalia.

This cunt has waltzing in, swatched the market and is now sucking pounds/Euros/Dollars out our pockets with flat packed madness. Clever guy; Ikea is now in as many households as Coca-Cola and Microsoft; surely it is. I mean even my Granda has Ikea stuff in his house, albeit cutlery, but it's still there.

What bothers me is the aimless, wandering and glazed over 30 something guys, drifting around Ikea swallowing up scented candles, throw rugs and bamboo sticks as if somehow it enhances their lives.

The 9000 plan: Find what you need from the catalogue, don't go with the bird/maw; that's like taking a magpie into a Sterling Silver works; wire through the shortcuts, blocking out lifestyle ideas as you go then find out what isle the stuff is in at the warehouse, don't fall for the marketplace trick, straight to the warehouse, buy your stuff and don't con yourself into thinking you need more coat hangers.

£1 hotdogs are the business mind you.

Get it roond ye Ingvar!

Madeline McCann Jokes

2007-09-19T17:34:00.000+01:00

Aye, that got yer attention.

I like how now only the search for "Maddy" is the only thing above me in the Google-yer-name game.

I'm tempted to wafle on about blood in the car and the whole "was it the parents", but this isnae CSI and I couldnae care less to be honest.

If I hear any jokes better than the "Renault McCann" effort floating about I will share though.

Watch this space...

Room wi a view

2007-08-27T13:11:00.000+01:00

All I need now is a pair of binoculars, a tripod for said binoculars and box of kleenex...

Aw well, scrub the kleenex, there's nae school in sight, but still, it is a fairly nifty balcony view.

I'm getting house proud now, the fucking Ikea nesting instinct is taking hold...

The Craig Masson Show!

2007-08-20T13:12:00.000+01:00

As promised. This Month McCann gets things done!

And the Truth Shall Set You Free

2007-08-19T13:09:00.000+01:00

I predicted this last December:

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Why I Left Barcelona

Today's post is thanks, in part, to Complete Lack Of Surprise.

Why I left Barcelona:

1) To come back home and get a real job (I'm an engineer)
2) I was rapidly running out of money
3) Too much boozing, womanising and chemical abuse. I had to come home to regain sanity
4) I thought by coming home I could salvage a doomed relationship
5) I was straining a lot of friendships by being an arsehole
6) I had to repay my mum who was financing me very heavily at points
7) I wanted to put my education to good use as opposed to being just a salesman (I suck at sales)
8) I couldn't afford to move flat (which I badly needed to do)
9) My health was beginning to suffer due to working silly hours
10) I hadn't been home in over 9 months and was beginning to miss it a wee bit.

So, for those of you who may ask/ponder/need reminded, the above list should explain why I am back in Scotland. 2006 has been a shite year. I got laid off in February from FEI, let go from Diamond Power after I failed my medical for being colour blind (Deuteranomaly), had a series of completely silly relationships and I never managed to save any money. 2007 will be better, I start the year with a new job, more money, more holidays, nicer habits and I have a digital camera.

It's all good.

As ever I was right. Yaaas!

Nature is Boggin

2007-08-19T12:53:00.001+01:00

This is a wasp's head. Fuckin boggin.

Imagine swimming into that or walking on it when it is washed up on the beach. Fuckin rank.

Not exactly appetising.

Nature, fuckin vile.

Rap that Pish

2007-08-17T13:06:00.000+01:00

The arse has fallen out the Yank housing market, there's a worldwide shortage of laptop components and guess what? Aye, you guessed it, yer mortgage is going up through the roof to tickle the baws of all those black astronauts on NASA's broken Shuttle.

I have no problem with black astronauts, but they might have a problem with me. Who knows?

But aye, what silly fucker decides that when a series of things go pear shaped on the otherside of the globe then lenders close up like shy clams, The Bank of England shite it and send interest rates up to Jupiter & back. Who honestly thinks up all these things? Economics is pish.

Ban all money is my top tip for the weekend.

64 days in Pictures

2007-08-16T12:56:00.000+01:00

Conroy's close shave

Meeting the mother-in-law (potentially)

Kelvingrove Art Galleries

Franco's last single night

Some mongo at the Empire Cinema, Clydebank

The true Lord of War

Southampton Marina

Dear T-Mobile

2007-08-14T13:06:00.000+01:00

There are 2 versions for your edification:

Dear Fuck Pigs,

Whilst wishing that you simultaneously die of bone cancer whilst E-Coli gets right in amongst your genitalia, I want in made clear that you are an abomination on the bleak landscape that is CRM. Seriously, you lepers are going down like the Luisitania , where was the clear warning of how much this download would cost? Buried under several layers of mind crushing pish and vinegar on your website is where, and even then it is as clear as a Pikey's used bath water.

I received no formal warning that this download would hump me for 17 bangers so in lieu of some kind of credit back on to my bill, I wish locusts, Les Dennis' Mavis fae Corrie impersonation and train crashes on all of you although I would prefer you all lived long enough to refund me that £17 first.

Get pumped losers,

Kisses,

Somemachine

Or else there is the tamer version:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am writing to ascertain why I was charged £17 for a download without due warning, whether that be in the form of a pop-up message on my mobile or a pre-download disclaimer.

Since I was charged £17 for , I have taken upon myself, as it is my legal duty to familiarise myself with such detail, as described in the consumer law and tariff article of the Consumer Law revision 1998 (laid down in in 1998, chapter 2, article 4, 4th amendment). Upon discovery of the tariff information on the T-Mobile Website (http://www.t-mobile.co.uk/shop/mobile-phones/price-plans/u-fix/u-fix-webnwalk/plans/) I am quite frankly appaulled and astounded that you expect anyone to comprehend you pricing structure.

This sheer lack of forthright information coupled with no prior warning of potentially high costs that could be, and in this case have been, invoked is not only irresponsible on the part of T-Mobile, but also unacceptable to me as a customer; given that I have fulfilled not only my legal duty, but also contractual duty to T-Mobile to become aware and knowledagble of costs & tariffs associated with my contract.

I therefore find it reasonable that I should be reimbursed for the full cost of this download, as, I did not receive suitable warning of the implied cost of such a download, and, had I received such a warning would have been disinclined to initiate such a data transaction.

In addition to this I would also very much appreciate that in future T-Mobile take further steps to be a fully responsible data and content provider and make customers and visitors to their services fully aware of implied charges and projected costs that services such as this download are accompanied with.

Kindest regards,

Somemachine.

The Evangelical Power of Staying Off the Drink

2007-08-13T13:04:00.001+01:00

Thats me 2 weeks dry. No drink. I'm also on a diet that has made my suit trousers take on the slight semblance of clown trousers.

9000's sagely advice: only eat at breakfast, lunch & dinnertimes, give crisps and other such shite a miss, especially when you are at your desk, reading this blog. Let's face it, nobody reads this tripe standing up.

But giving all these things a bye means I am now looking round, in my head giving it, "aye, well look at you stuffing junk food down yer pie hole". It's this type of food evangelism that one should keep to one's self lest ye turn into one of these cuntbags that appears on daytime TV telling ye that you should repent and stop stuffing cheesecakes and mutton pies down yer food hatch.

Is Claire Raynor still on daytime telly? If she is then someone should anvil her to death. No woman that gruesome and abrasive to the eye should be in the harsh eye of the public dishing out sex advice. A swift anvil to the cranium should sort that out.

Celtic Minded Forum Cunt-o-rama & Guilty Until Ignored to be Innocent

2007-08-03T12:55:00.000+01:00

First of all I would like to point out that I have given up swearing for August. Seriously, I am trying my hardest not swear. I working on the same philosophy that if you say it, it is slander and if it is printed/written then it is liable.

So everything now is liable.

I got refused membership on the Celtic Minded Forum. Perhaps I am reading too much into it, but have my previous comments at the bottom of my Big Jock Knew rebuttal barred me? If so then I would like to take the time out to say an absolutely massive FUCK YOU to the administrator of the Celtic Minded Forum. Choose between cancer, a car crash and death by Roger Moore as your fate.

Aye, so Cunt-o-rama indeed and the arsehole fest rumbles on in the news, particularly the ITN. They have this wee lassie who is 19 posing as a 13 year old talking to older guys and then passing the details of older guys who want to meet her for sex to the police.

Now am I just a right fuckin cabbage or is our justice system no based Innocent until proven guilty? Now I'll go palming my wheelchair straight into the tinned peas and put my neck out by suggesting that ITN's activities themselves are actually illegal; entrapment is not a legal form for law enforcement. This now means that if I make a blog entry about wanting to finger a 13 year old girl that I am as guilty as those guys the ITN "caught"; all I have done is talk about it and there may very well be a 13 year old girl reading this blog.

Another worrying trend is that shameless TV execs want an American show that involves using bait to catch sex offenders then arrest them to come over here. Again entrapment before the crime is committed is not legal and all the mob politics and "concerned parents groups" out there will not convince me otherwise.

Maybe that is why I am not worthy to be a part of the Celtic Minded forums, because as we all know it is a bastion of impartiality.

So from this dobber fulled maelstrom I bid you a pleasant weekend. Except Celtic Minded Forums Admin, they can get Roger Moored to death.

aw aye, Allan @ Somemachine, the letter is coming along nicely, there is both a venom soaked hatefest of a letter and a nice lawyery type one that might get you yer cash back. I ripped it off of one I saw when I worked at slO2.

9000's Indian Summer Review. Lest he Forget...

2007-07-28T18:55:00.000+01:00

Well I'm going to shoot my muck early on this one and go right ahead and furnish The Indian Summer Festival (Saturday only) 2007 with a 9/10. That's 90% for all you pie chart freaks. I would give bar charts 2/10 cos they are jobbies.

Anyway, the event kicked off rather rapidly. I managed to smuggle 4 litres of swally in past the security, in sterile piss bags, managing where others failed so miserably.

I also swallowed a Neorganics Compressor before the event then I would like it pointed out the rest event was a high shrouded in drunken madness.

I spent most of the time in the Optimo Espacio tent, drinking my smuggled in swally, which tasted all the sweeter straight from the piss bags.

To be honest the rest of the bands were shite. Wilco sucked baws, they sounded like 12 blind retards running around a violin shop after being set on fire. 1/10. Idlewild showed up and were ok, but I had the Safety Dance in my head so I couldnae have cared less if I held the world in my arms at that point. 4/10.

Modeselektor came on though and changed everything. They were class. I danced. I had more fine Neorganics products. I danced more. I took the time to compliment someone on their shoes. 9/10.

But all in all there was a nice contained feel to the event, it was very West End trendy, but accessible and fun.

Aye so a roundly deserved 9/10. I'm away to drink Buckfast through a straw; legend has it that it gives you the power to see through buildings and scale moderately tall fences.

Angry Letter Mode

2007-07-27T12:58:00.000+01:00

I'm fucking transmutating into an auld cunt. Seriously. Back in my student days I would think fuck all of pissing away a weeks wages on swally and a pair of horrific looking Nike Shox at £120, but now if I spend more than 3p on anything there is a fucking inquest.

And laughter lines aside, I fucking love writing angry letters. Letting the venom drip down through my fingers as I sit slabbering with glee at my poisonous finger tips telling cunts how the country is going to fuck and how I hope Newcastle United burn and their fans drown.

I'm getting giddy with evil joy at the thought of telling my GP he is a cunt but lacing it up in nice langauge, suger tinged venom. If that Newcastle Utd cunt writes back to me after I sent him a hate filled email type retort after his jibe at the SPL and the Old Firm, then I have tonnes and tonnes of bile enammeled misery to pour his way. Stick the Premiership up yer arse ya dobber, the Tyne bridge is shite and only wino junkie/alky bastards drink brown ale ya prick (www.newcastle-mad.co.uk)

I love getting old.

I think I'll sit and read George Bernard Shaw quotes; I'd be him if I was kicking about 100 years ago and he was a truely anger character.

Gift Idea

2007-07-24T21:04:00.000+01:00

Big Jock Knew?

2007-07-24T19:45:00.000+01:00

I received this reply on my questioning of www.bigjockknew.com :

Rob wrote:

"There has been some open concerted effort to see Jock Stein knighted for his contribution to British football. Fortunately this will not happen and I say fortunate in light of the fact that Mr Jock Stein was privy to what was happening at Celtic Boys club. Alot of people would be otherwise furious if Mr Jock Stein were to receive an honour which is bestowed upon them as recognition for their great achievements. Now whilst Jock Stein achieved greatness whilst with Celtic FC in 1967 he also knew about the Torbett affair and failed to go to the Police, he effectively allowed this to go unchallenged thinking that a toe up the rear end would suffice. Sorry but if you were the victim like the youngs lads at the time which I very much doubt you have ever been, then getting kicked out your job would not represent sufficient punishment. What course of redress did those who suffered receive. Just because this all happened many years ago doesn't mean to say that this should be kicked under the carpet like you say and like what happened then. Your take on this is somewhat confusing and I am sure if you had or have kids then you will realise the seriouness of why this is being driven like it has. When you open a paper of see coverage of Jock Stein then first and foremost what should be utmost in your mind is Why? Was Celtics good name more important than those youngs lads well being and their future? Was your achievement more pivotal than the abuse your club subjected to young vulnerable lads who placed their trust in you? If you think that yourself and others should turn a blind eye then you my friend are equally as dangerous as those who commit these henious crimes on our most vulnerable. Leave no stone unturned and make known the truth as it should be

For the record, we first went to War with Iraq in the early nineties, should we forget the deaths of our soldiers who fought for our rights to freedom and those of the suffering Iraq's under Sadams rule, no we shouldn't and likewise we should not forget what happened to the young lads at Celtic FC who under the stewardship of Stein suffered not as a result of him but at the hands of those under his charge, namely Torbett."

Firstly I would like to draw attention to the "For the record we went to War with Iraq in the early nineties..." part of Rob's rebuttal. As to what that has to do with Jock Stein & the abuse of young boys I cannot quite figure out.

Rob, you also speak of sweeping things under the carpet, at what point have I swept anything under the carpet? I quote myself in my "Big Jock Knew" post; "Show me empirical evidence that Big Jock did indeed know then I will review my stance". That still stands, show me concrete empirical evidence that Jock Stein was fully aware of the abuse of young, vulnerable boys at Celtic Boys club during his tenure as Manager of Celtic, then I will change my stance. You have presented no concrete, empirical or plausible evidence, what you have done is solidify my point that the sole purpose of www.bigjockknew.com is to promote camouflaged bigotry, using hearsay and conjecture as vehicles.

One point I will agree with you is that Jock Stein should not be knighted. I believe that if Big Jock was to be knighted it should have occurred during his record making tenure as Celtic manager and not posthumously after death.

Rob, you say "Mr Jock Stein was privy to what was happening at Celtic Boys club". How do you know this? Can you present me with evidence, clear and without bias that Jock Stein knew? I doubt severely that you can and furthermore Rob I can see no benefit or tangible gain that promoting the idea of "Big Jock Knew" provides.

Perhaps I am being rather absent minded, but I do not seem to recall stories and bold propaganda (in forms such as t-shirts and posters) stating "Big Jock Knew" when Rangers were winning and indeed equally the record Jock Stein 1st attained as manager of Celtic; nine-in-a-row.

Rob, I also ask for irrefutable proof that when Torbett was "kicked out" of Celtic Football Club that it was for his actions and abuse of Celtic Boys Club's vulnerable young and that Jock Stein was fully cognisant of all the facts surrounding the abuse of those boys. I am fully open to evidence and proof, not hearsay, speculation and stories without truthful foundation.

I asked the question what is the point of www.bigjockknew.com and thank you Rob for taking the time to answer my question. In particular I thank you for not trying to hide your bias and apparent zeal with which you promote unfounded stories; it reinforces my belief and galvanises the logic of my argument that www.bigjockknew.com is nothing more than thinly veiled bigotry and unfounded defamation bordering on liable.

"Was your achievement more pivotal than the abuse your club subjected to young vulnerable lads who placed their trust in you? If you think that yourself and others should turn a blind eye then you my friend are equally as dangerous as those who commit these henious crimes on our most vulnerable. Leave no stone unturned and make known the truth as it should be"

I will tackle these questions head-on Rob. I cannot see exactly what you mean in the opening line. Do I feel that Celtic's success during the Jock Stein era was more important or critical than the abuse of young boys at Celtic Boys club? Trophies do not repair damaged lives or provide solace to those irreversibly injured and tormented by the episodes of abuse they endured at the hands of those who tortured them, but at the same time I questioned the purpose of www.bigjockknew.com and this neither provides purpose or clarity as to what, if any, purpose www.bigjockknew.com

You then, Rob, proceed to compare me to someone who perpetrates crimes of sexual assault and abuse upon children. You draw this comparison because I challenge the purpose of www.bigjockknew.com. So, in effect, by your logic anyone who questions or disagrees with your views (and not evidence) of what Jock Stein did and did not know is "as dangerous" as a child molester.

I think, Rob, and indeed anyone who agrees with the purpose and existence of www.bigjockknew.com, should read Rob's parting sentence of that quoted paragraph above very carefully: "Leave no stone unturned and make known the truth as it should be".

How should the truth be? Truth must be accompanied with irrefutable evidence, that was how I was taught to deal with truth. I believe that conjecture and speculation is not consistent with the "leave no stone unturned" mindset.

Truth is perhaps something we very quickly leave behind when are driven by bias, sectarianism and a lack of understanding. I cannot see what benefit www.bigjockknew.com serves and furthermore the article published about Sanjeev Kohli just goes to show the true engine behind www.bigjockknew.com; bile and sectarian hate.

For the record I am also opposed to any site claiming to be Celtic minded or otherwise and using the exact same type of rhetoric & language. Celtic Football Club was founded as a charitable organisation, not as a banner for the ignorant to stand behind.

Thank you again for your rebuttal Rob.

Fucking Busy

2007-07-24T13:10:00.001+01:00

Mr Francis Santos and "Sexy Suzie"

The title spells everything out in perfect detail.

I have someone to reply to with regards to www.bigjockknew.com, franco's wedding photos, a review of Indian Summer and some venemous hate mail and movie reviews to dispatch.

Only after I do my chores like a good boy.

Peace Out Chimps.

Indian Summer in Pictures

2007-07-17T12:52:00.000+01:00

The Ever Dangerous Dave, Scouse, a plump 9000 and Big Chris

Nice smile hen

Greased up Ulster women kidding on they were old and it was raining

The piss bag. Discarded.

Simone, Adam and Claire.

French Joesph & Mr. McCann (fucked)

Dangerous Dave, Ozzie Paul, 9000 & Ozzie Anthea

Ms. R Donnelly, Ms S O'Donnell & Ms. V Cremin

Ralph (fucked).

The pictures are best viewed whilst listening to frequency by The Super Furry Animals.

Thank you please.

Indian Summer Countdown

2007-07-13T13:02:00.000+01:00

Like a leperous, retarded and slightly disenchanted little boy, I'm counting the seconds to Indian Summer, whilst drooling ever so slightly on my good work shirt. The one I save for Fridays.

It better be good. My plans to use (unused) cathater bags to smuggle in booze better work. ModeSkeletor better be good. My kidneys better stop hurting.

All these threats and there is really fuck all I can do by way of retribution.

If I was Wolverine it'd be a different case.

Smash the NHS

2007-07-11T13:03:00.001+01:00

I'm all for the NHS. I believe that for any country to consider itself one of the world's most advanced it has to have a comprehensive and effective health care service.

We are absolutely fucked.

I work full time and all I want is a doctors appointment one morning whenever, say in the next week or so. nothing too demanding. But instead I have to call the day I want an appointment and trust to fate that I'll get seen. In otherwords fuck my work about, possibly take a holiday and all so the doctor, who is on the receiving end of a record high salary, can syringe my ears. Routine maintenance.

It's a fuckin joke that I pay more NI contributions than pensioners, lay abouts and fuckin junkies yet I'm not on the receiving end of this "world class" care the NHS are dishing out. Iwill have to wait until I fall down, close to deaths door before I can darken the reception of NHS24 or go to casualty and get seen to and even then I'll likely be hanging about for hours waiting for to be treated with sub-standard equipment by increasingly poorly trained doctors who don't give a fuck because they aren't GPs and the NHS pissing on then anaw.

£724.50 my healthcare has cost me since April, the begininng of a new tax year and I have seen absolutely nothinng of merit for it. I would much rather have spent that £724.50 on fuckin moon boots or those big stilt things that let you jump over cars and run at about 20mph... Cannae mind whit they are called, but you know the ones I'm talking about.

I'd use them and the change from my £724.50 to walk across to Ross Hall and open a BUPA account.

If you're looking for me I'll be writing angry letters to people who are paid handsomely to care about what I, a registered voter and tax payer, think.

Smash the NHS.

Brokeback to the Future

2007-07-07T20:07:00.001+01:00

Unemployed in Summertime

2007-07-06T17:51:00.000+01:00

I pure fancy her so I do...Song isnae bad either

Looks like we're on to a winner Dave...

2007-07-05T13:15:00.000+01:00

Indian Summer is looking more promising...

Although the line up remain largely unknown, I am feeling slightly happier that perhaps we shall not have to be so reliant on my "pills and booze makes anythign sound good" philosophy.

Watch this space.