Final musings

Well it's been a funny old year, one I'm glad to see the back of really, no this isn't going to be a blog of wallowing in self pity either!

This past year has been one of self realisation and personal growth despite turbulent times, most of which has been by my own hand! The coming year will hopefully more productive and rewarding but I realise only I can change things, only I can shape my destiny with a little help from luck and fate..... and the lottery!

So I stride into the new year with optimism, dreams and hopes. I didn't find eternal happiness or wealth over the past year but hey - another year awaits.

Life has so many things to offer and experience and I intend to do my best to explore it to the full (especially the perverse and decadent things!) So that's my final musings for 2004 and a new year of blogging and self discovery awaits!

And Kelly Osbourne, if you are reading this.... get in touch !!!!

Right, happy new year to you all and remember... be nice to hobbit's everywhere!

To the pub I go !!!!

Boxing day sting

Sting as 'Ace'

As the Christmas television was dire I mused on watching a dvd, I’d got several to watch and my wandering finger hovered over Quadrophenia. It was a film I’d had for some time and not yet view, I’d sort of been saving it for a day like this. Phil Daniels plays the lead role as Jimmy, a teenager wrapped up in the 1960’s Mod culture, a guy struggling to come to terms with real life and its encumbering responsibilities.

For me the film really works, visually it may looked dated but it captures the period well and has a full British cast including Ray Winstone, Michael Elphick, Leslie Ash, Mark Wingett and the ever lovely Toyah Wilcox (dribble)

One man steals the film for me, Sting who plays ‘Ace’ the mysterious mod, it’s was movie debut and he soooo damn cool, even though he's only in it a scant few minutes.

The film doesn’t really have a solid story, it doesn’t need one as it’s about characters rather than plot. The Who provide a cracking soundtrack that mirrors the mod scene very well, so much so that I want a mod suit now and a Lambretta!

Magical times

Last week when I walked (well staggered) home from the works Christmas party I decided to take a route that avoid the carnage that was Mansfield town centre. The route took me past the now derelict site of Mansfield Brewery, a place I once worked for 5 magical years.

Sadly the company was sold off to another brewery some years ago now after the all powerful main share holders decided they wanted to get rich quick, hundreds of jobs were lost and the impact on the local community was devastating. There were last minute bids to save the brewery, a consortium of management and workforce plus help from local council leaders but it all failed. The brewery that took over decided to keep some of the award winning beers we made and integrated them into their own range of drinks, the names live on but sadly Mansfield brewery doesn’t.

Over the five years I worked there I’d say I worked damn hard and I enjoyed every minute of it, every day was a pleasure. I stood there and paid my respects at the fence before I trudged home, all the memories flooding back, the laughter, the camaraderie and of course all the lovely beer!

Comedy - you must be joking

Craig Cash and Phil Mealey of Early Doors, northern comedy and no southern lager tops

Was it me or were the comedy awards without comedy content, apart from Johnny Vegas?

Looking at the winners list I was shaking my head in disbelief, surely this wasn’t the best British comedy has to offer? Ricky Gervais to me is very over rated and not really a veteran of the comedy scene like people think he is, I mean he hasn’t really done a lot has he?
Little Britain scooped a few awards, I do like Matt Lucas but I’m not a fan of Little Britain, Lucas is versatile and funny but I think he still has time to grow and nurture his comic talent. Other winners included Caroline Quentin and Martin Clune - who decides these awards, come on guys wake up and smell the coffee!

Ant and Dec comedians? Kiss my furry hobbit arse! I like the two Geordie gas bags but comics they certainly are not. Then there was the kiss arse tribute to The Simpson, sure I like the show but it’s becoming a bit old hat now.

School of Rock won the best comedy film, total pants. What about Shaun of the dead?

Negatives aside I did enjoy the show, Jonathon Ross sharp as ever was dressed as a paragon of effect dandyism and Johnny Vegas’s seemingly drunken rant broke the boredom and mutual backslapping. Incidentally I met Jonathon Ross in London once with my friend Pat before we went into a comic shop, he ended up buying some of my jokes (well some of that sentence is true). Another plus was that Sharon and Kelly Osbourne were there, any chance of a mother and daughter threesome ladies? Then there was Mrs Ross, the lovely and very ample Jane Goldman (drools).

But where was the real British comedy? Where was Craig Cash and Phil Mealey the writers of the excellent ‘Early Doors’? Where was Phoenix Nights? Simon Pegg and Spaced?

I guess they weren’t present because they are not over hyped or considered en vogue with the British comedy scene. And where the F**k was Ken Dodd ?!!?

Every one knows the home of British comedy is in the north, all except Billy Connelly that is.

Slubberdgullion

I've found a fab new word, it sort of reminds me of a few people (yes you aswell Pat!). The word is 'Slubberdgullion' and I can't stop saying it. Below is the definition and then the link to the website where I got it from, one of the best sites I've seen in ages.

A filthy, slobbering person.

English, whatever its other merits, has as many disparaging words as one would possibly desire. The example that follows is from Sir Thomas Urquhart’s translation of Rabelais’ Gargantua and Pantagruel, dated 1653, which draws heavily on vocabulary used in Scotland in his time:

The bun-sellers or cake-makers were in nothing inclinable to their request; but, which was worse, did injure them most outrageously, called them prattling gabblers, lickorous gluttons, freckled bittors, mangy rascals, shite-a-bed scoundrels, drunken roysters, sly knaves, drowsy loiterers, slapsauce fellows, slabberdegullion druggels, lubberly louts, cozening foxes, ruffian rogues, paltry customers, sycophant-varlets, drawlatch hoydens, flouting milksops, jeering companions, staring clowns, forlorn snakes, ninny lobcocks, scurvy sneaksbies, fondling fops, base loons, saucy coxcombs, idle lusks, scoffing braggarts, noddy meacocks, blockish grutnols, doddipol-joltheads, jobbernol goosecaps, foolish loggerheads, flutch calf-lollies, grouthead gnat-snappers, lob-dotterels, gaping changelings, codshead loobies, woodcock slangams, ninny-hammer flycatchers, noddypeak simpletons, turdy gut, shitten shepherds, and other suchlike defamatory epithets; saying further, that it was not for them to eat of these dainty cakes, but might very well content themselves with the coarse unranged bread, or to eat of the great brown household loaf.

You don’t hear invective like that any more, and few of us would understand it if we did. There’s enough material there for a year of Weird Words, but I’ve picked out slabberdegullion (a rare spelling of slubberdegullion), a word which nobody hearing it could possibly consider a compliment. There are examples of it on record from the seventeenth century down to the early twentieth but it appears now only as a deliberate archaism.

The experts disagree about where it came from. The first part is clearly English slobber, but the rest is less certain. It might be cullion, an old word for a testicle (it’s related to French couillon and Spanish cojones), which by the sixteenth century was a term of contempt for a man. It might instead conceivably be linked to the Scots dialect gullion for a quagmire or a pool of mud containing semi-liquid decayed vegetable matter, but that’s only recorded rather later.

http://www.worldwidewords.org/index.htm

Zombie-ville

I couldn’t avoid it, I just had to do it – last minute christmas shopping!

Fear and apprehension flooded into my mind as I realised that I needed to brave the zombie hordes of shoppers in town for one last time. Planning was the order of the day as I selected an alternate route into a thronging mass of lifeless people intent on spending as much as they could just for one day. Why do they do it? Why indeed was I doing it? The whole of my shabby town was festooned with carol singers, people shaking collection tins at you and wall to wall mindless shoppers. You look into the eyes of the vendors on the market place and you can see they are grinning inside, the zombies are paying for their January break after all. Old ladies laden with bags bump into burberry Chav’s who in turn knock aside small children with that special present for mummy.

I really felt like I was in some sort of Romero movie dodging glazed eyed undead minions. The only time any life is revealed is when they have to use their mobiles and shout in front of the whole shop the intended gift is ‘out of stock’ and then burst into shrieks and whines of distress to the watching audience who gloat back at them.

Next year, finances permitting – I’m going somewhere where Christmas ain’t a big deal.

Bring your daughter to the slaughter

It’s the company's Christmas party this evening, one I’m very much looking forward too. The main reason being that the group dynamics have changed a lot in the department I work so it will be cool to just sit and ‘people watch’ at this year’s event. You can bet there will be the girl that gets drunk very quickly and makes a scene, the boss guy that gets overcome by the wine and turns into a lecherous pest and of course the office nerd that wants to talk figure projection for the next quarter.

My boss's daughter and co-worker is going this year, she's a tender age - I wonder how long she will last before the boss lady has to take her home?

It all becomes mayhem as rivalries explode, male ego’s clash over the women they know they really can’t have and women do likewise over the men, ultimately we’ll all end up with a headache the next morning through wine infusion. It’s remarkable that people actually rub shoulders and shake hands yet all the previous year they’ve despised and plotted against one another. As I’m into psychology I’ll be watching the events unfold but then again….. I will be doing all of the above myself most likely.

Manga madness

You wouldn't think it but images like this are considered porn in some internet chat rooms and some do-gooders think they are unsuitable for their members. Recently the chat program I sometimes use decided to issue me with a warning for keeping content like the picture above in my own personal photo album archive on their database. The idea being you send picures like this with text etc to friends that use the online chat. They are called 'loggies' and basically you upload images to an album before you can send them on to friends etc.

I received a warning email from a moderator called a 'Navigator' that basically told me an image like the above was inappropriate. Oddly enough the image had been widely distributed and in my album for almost a year. I logged onto the chat forum the other night and was told I wouldn't be allowed back on until the image(s) were deleted. This I had to do and I understand the fact the chat forum has younger members but ironically there seems to be no age restriction or close monitoring of minors. The moderators seem more concerned with rummaging through your personal album and logbook and handing out warnings. Strange that their presence is little felt on the actual chat program itself where people and minors are often left to verbal abuse and taunts while the moderators back slap each other in the confines of private chat rooms dedicated to them.

I did manage to get back on the chat program after speaking to two of the hierachy, ironically it was the underling moderator who was most helpful and the senior one most aloof. I guess it's left me wondering what type of people crave and abuse power and what petty way they wield it.

The whole episode made me feel a bit 'dirty' like I was some rain coated peddler of porn, when all I was doing was sharing japanese art images with like minded people, I know even this art style has it's porn variant called 'Hentai' and I can understand them clamping down on that but images like the one above?! I don't think so. It seems odd to come across all moral in todays society when our youth are exposed to horror films and even graphic images on the news, open any British tabloid and there's scantily clad topless woman in front of you. There was no complaint against my picture so I guess I was the victim of some power hungry do-gooder that gets a kick out of banning people from forums. Oh well, rant over.

The land of smiles

Earlier this year when I was walking to work in the harsh January wind I felt good because I knew I was going to the land of smiles in February. The land of smiles is of course Thailand. I’ve been to the Far East for the last three years, initially starting with Hong Kong, China and Macau until a friend recommended Thailand.

So I guess this year I’m feeling sorry for myself knowing I have nothing planned for early in the new year. I have to put my money to more material use this year and besides none of my friends are going either, so it’s a big boo hoo from me (all say awwwww).

I’ll miss Thailand and more importantly the people there that always seem to have a permanent smile super glued to their faces. It’s the silly things I’ll miss like stepping out of Bangkok airport into the heat when you’ve been used to our freezing winter, it feels so nice. I’ll miss Pattaya and it's beach swathed in sparkling sea. I’ll miss the bustling streets of Pattaya, always congested with traffic but always teeming with life. I’ll miss the neon filled alley's at night, overcrowded with beer bars and clubs, Thai girls shouting encouragement for you to visit their bars as they eddy and sway to Thai fast disco beats, eagerly touting for trade. Its Soi 7 and 8 (that’s streets 7 & 8) that I’ll miss most, that’s where my usual hotel is and those two streets have so much character and variety. Usually I sit at a bar called Tom’s bar and chit chat with the Thai owner called Tom (obviously), we laugh and joke as he tries to coax me to drink more Heineken, Thai’s are ever the sales people!

There’s nothing glamorous about Pattaya though, it’s been dubbed as the ultimate sex tourist place other than Bangkok. Sure enough there is a heavy presence of prostitutes in Pattaya, thousands of them in fact, there’s also a large gay scene. It’s fair to say some people just would not find Pattaya a nice place at all, hell on earth even – sin central. For me that’s the beauty of it, Pattaya is a place were anything goes (though I didn’t see much evidence of drugs or would want to), it’s a fusion of east meets west and, where cultures happily collide. I like Pattaya because I can be myself, drink till I want, do some cheap shopping in the day and maybe visit some place of interest nearby. It’s a place where real people go, all walks of life, from the darker variety to the open minded, there’s no tabboo’s – just tattoo parlours. It’s not a place where you’d take the family though! Talking of all people I met a lovely old couple from Yorkshire that love Pattaya, mainly because of the friendly Thai people and the fact it’s so cheap there, how can you blame them? Europe is fast becoming very pricey.

There’s a lot to be learned from a place like Pattaya, you learn about other cultures, you see poverty, you see people finding love but most of all despite everything you see a Thai smile and for me that makes it all worth it.

Geeks

There’s something about female geeks that attracts me, I’m not sure if it’s their normal haircuts, spectacles, quirkiness, shyness or general mannerisms. You just know that behind every female geek is a tiger waiting to get out. I think we now live in society where geeks are fashionable, no longer are computer nerds an object of ridicule like they used to be portrayed in the media and films.

Female geeks come in all guises, shapes and sizes. They are happy wearing trousers or normal type clothing; they see no need to be seen as fashion icons because they can use their brains to entrap the male of the species.

Apparently, women are now spending more money on gadgets than they do on shoes. According to research commissioned by Sony Ericsson, women fork out an average of £478 on technology a year compared to just £74 on shoes.
Long may the female geek flourish any chance of more in our office?

http://www.girlgeeks.org/

http://www.geek.com/

and for geeky girl gadgets check out the site below.

http://wirelessdigest.typepad.com/shinyshiny/

Impish

I woke startled by the alarm, it was time to wake for college but giving into temptation I set the alarm to snooze mode. Drifting back into a comfortable sleep I began to dream, the dark edges faded and I emerged into my dreamscape were the sub conscious surfaces to become reality. Like most dreams it was a bit of a jig-saw in areas, mine being vague at the beginning, I was in my dad’s home town, there had been a family argument of sorts, though not between myself and dad. I found myself meandering down some country lane on a balmy summer early evening. As the sun dipped on the horizon I stumbled upon a village of narrow streets leading into lawned greens. Deciding I needed to rest and clear my head I looked for a pub where I could sit outside and soak up the days last remaining rays of sun. As I turned a corner people gathered in bizarre costumes that can only be described as rocky horror show meets gothic ballroom complete with masques. On entering a nearby bar I ordered a drink and turned to ask a stranger what was happening. Turning to answer my question I could see she was of similar height to me sporting short black pixie style hair and a smile that made me melt. She seemed fun and excited by the surrounding events and told me it was an event that happened at this village on occasion and she’d come to see it for herself.

It seemed the bizarre event was a procession around the village pubs open to anyone and at each pub there was a simple task to complete, a drink to be had and then you moved on to the next. Off we went, me and the mystery girl eagerly following the crowd, curious grins on our inquisitive faces. The village itself seemed lovely, full of flowers and bright colours, odd shaped and surreal buildings – it seemed like something taken from Alice in Wonderland. The tasks we had to do were simple, enter through odd shaped doors, drink a particular drink but what struck me was how my feelings were growing for my impish pixie companion with charcoal hair and a sardonic smile. She was adorned in jeans and hiking boots and a plain walking type of jacket but most noticeable was her radiant smile and enchanting eyes, eyes that were slowly drawing me in. I wanted to ask her if she was involved with anyone but I kept restrained and enjoyed the moment soaking up the evening’s atmosphere and merry making in the village pageant. Every bar was full of friendly faces, outrageous costumes and characters and it wasn’t long before I began to feel intoxicated, it seemed my impish friend was fast becoming the same as we giggled and laughed in the setting sun.

As we went to leave bar we were currently in our task was to crawl through a large cat flap type of thing out of a rear door, she slipped through with ease but I became stuck much to her amusement. Then she began to slip away beckoning me like a satyr playing its pan pipes beckons forest creatures, she danced she laughed, she sang, she touched my heart and filled it with wild desire but I was stuck. I reached out to her, begged her to grab my arm and then suddenly my alarm rang shattering the dream and returning me back to my own world. My eyes blurring I scoped the time and came to my senses as I realised it was time to rise for college.

I grinned as I eased out of bed, my impish friends smile was still etched in my mind.

You're call is very important to us - please hold

I always said call centres were a passing trend even though I work in one. The one thing I can say with clarity and experience is that call centres don’t really work; the simple truth is that nobody likes them.

Why?

Nobody likes them because they are faceless, vague, tedious and basically when you eventually get through you’re greeted with ‘You’re call is very important to us, please hold’. When you speak to call centres you are calling the middleman, whether that be banking or repairs and that never breeds confidence in people does it? There’s no wonder when people get through they are deflated, frustrated and more often than not just plain angry. Having reached someone to speak to they usually get a pre-scripted robotic person, a clueless trainee or just put on hold. Recently I changed my phone and needed to call service provider to enable a feature on my phone, it took 6 calls to get it right and on receiving my last phone bill I wasn’t best pleased. The only time I’ve felt satisfaction is when ringing one up for pc technical support and they talk you through something but that’s still not as good as being shown in person and also costly.

When I started doing this job I was enthusiastic, I’d been indoctrinated with all the rhetoric, all the jargon to make it sound good to the clients but soon the allure wears thin and you realise non of it is congruent, it’s all bullshit.

Call centres originate from America and maybe over there they actually work as the Americans are more service centred than we Brits, in fact most countries are more serviced centred than us! (scribbles a note to do a blog on customer service in shops!)

So, what does the future hold for call centres? I think they are beginning to die a death, the firm where I work as seen contract after contract disappear, proof that the trend is indeed starting to flail in its death throws. I still think we’ll always have them but they are on a notable decline. Like most British industries like knitwear, mining and cars – it all goes abroad. India has embraced call centres to their bosom and of course the powers that be have put them over there because of the cheap labour. Our firm deals a lot with high street chain stores and they have cut us out to go to the contractors direct, who can blame then?

Ironically a female work colleague of mine who has just been bereaved had to call her insurance company whose call centre is based in India, she had to explain that her husband had recently died and her policy needed changing. On amending the policy the Indian call centre operator said to my bereaved colleague ‘Have a nice day!’

Shazza

The nation’s biggest talent show has ended; it leaves a gap in the Saturday night Tv slot that I guess will be hard to replace for a while, well until the next reality show. I think the format of gradually reducing bands week by week ultimately didn’t work and was a bit on an anti climax. To be honest I thought the weakest act won but that is of course my personal opinion. I’ve got to respect Sharon Osbourne for her outburst against the winner Steve Brookstein, unfortunately I think it was her rant that actually swung the public vote in his direction. A lot of what Sharon said was right, I like the way she didn’t play the ego stroking game and said her piece unafraid of public opinion.

Another thing I found puzzling is the crowd would boo at judge Louis Walsh most weeks as he enters, indeed they would for Simon Cowell but the difference is that Simon is in the bracket of classic pantomime villain which we all know crowds really love. loath him or like him, Simon Cowell has that something that keeps us watching, I think there’s something about Mr Cowell we like but don’t want to admit.

Seemingly the losers aren’t losers, we all know G4 will get a contract too and they deserve one. They might not be everybody’s cup of tea but they are versatile and have a good fan base, I think we’ll see Steve release his Christmas single and have some minor success but I think G4 will be the act will longevity.

And as for Sharon Osbourne or ‘Shazza’ – didn’t she look just fab in that outfit?

There’s just something about the more powerful older woman, though it would not be appropriate for me to say what !!!

Ironically Steve's Single is already available for download on the X-factor web site priced 99p. The website also has a video subscription service to watch highlights and it announces the X-factor tour, hhhmm no money making website or spin off's then!?

http://www.xfactor.tv/

Reality tv again ...

To quote this weeks 'Private Eye' comments on reality Tv

'But anyone who regrets the domination of ITV1 peak-time by 'I'm a celebrity get me out of here' should be grateful that the main evening series is a pinnacle of innovation and intelligence'

I totally agree but I know that my friend Pat would not!

We need more reality tv and we need it fast!

Oblique

When the nights are purest dark
When the days are grey and bleak
My mind seems numb
Life’s meaning leans to the oblique

Everything seems an obstacle
Most things are a chore
I lose all direction
Purpose seems a bore

I battle with my demons
Fight an unseen fight
The world around me lacks feeling
It all seems cold
My thoughts turn black
When I wish they were bright

King of the Jungle

The rumble in the jungle is over and Joe Pasquale has been crowned ‘King of the jungle’ in ‘I’m a celebrity get me out of here’ (itv 9pm). He wasn’t my favourite, I thought he was perhaps a little bland at times but on reflection I’m glad he’s won. It show’s the British public have voted for a seemingly regular guy, it’s a victory for Mr Average and personally I like that. The main factor was that Joe was himself, he didn’t sensationalise or hype it up, he didn’t swear, act camp, be a victim or name drop – He was simply Joe Pasquale – mediocre comedian from recent times. Everyone would want a friend like Joe because he has that likeable appeal (squeaky voice aside).

The one thing immediately noticeable was all the celeb’s, has been’s and wannabe’s actually gained from the experience of living rough in the jungle. Oh well, it’s another year till we return. When can we have a dedicated reality tv channel?

Fuzzy face

I didn’t really want to talk ‘shop’ in my blog but work is a part of life we have to address at some point, like every day! As I plan to escape my current line of work I’m not really too fussed about the fate of the company I work at, though I wouldn’t want anyone to lose their job. The atmosphere of late has been of doom and gloom as we’ve lost some major contracts but we have a saviour and he’s called ‘Fuzzy Face’.

Fuzzy face is self styled cockney geezer come wide boy approaching 50 something, he has a neatly trimmed beard (never trust men with beards) and is usually caparisoned in a silver suit. He tries unconvincingly to tell you in his broad London accent that he’s embraced Yorkshire as his new home and now he’s in fact a ‘Yorkshire man’. To save us all from certain doom he’s introducing a bonus scheme to the office so we can earn more but he hasn’t really told us of the catches yet. I sat with him as he showed me his new ideas on figures on his lap top but all he kept doing was licking his lips a lot and saying ‘yeah’ a lot as if he demanded you agree with him – of course I didn’t and in true managerial fashion he didn’t listen to my rational objections either. Then later I found out that Fuzzy Face had told a ‘would be’ client to go away because they seemed to be dragging their heels over contractual matters - pop went another contract. His bonus scheme smacks of some Thatcherite plan (and we all remember the poll tax don’t we?) and I think it will fail shortly after it is implemented, mainly due to mass apathy in the office – all we wanted was a normal pay rise! So time will tell about the fate of where I work, I sincerely hope we get through this lean time. Call me a cynic but Fuzzy Face keeps telling us the bonus scheme is too good to be true and when someone tells you that, well…

I would just like to say no cockneys were harmed in the making of this blog

Cockney Definition;

1. Non standard dialect of natives of the east end of London
2. adj. Relating to or resembling a cockney; "cockney street urchins"

Weekend blues

Well my weekend sucked really. Friday after work I went to pay some bills only to find I was short of cash for one of them, it was quite surreal as I was sure I had the right money in my pocket beforehand. As town was busy I’d planned my route back through it in military fashion but as I needed a haircut I did a slight detour and popped into a barbers I used to use years ago. The same guy was still there only this time he had a shiny lap top he was playing on, I peered around the door and asked if he was open before seating my self in his plush chair. In no time the haircut was over and he was asking for £8.50 (I usually pay £4.50) so I wasn’t best pleased. Sulking of into town I was accosted by three chav’s, the middle half cast one began singing the ‘umpa lumpa’ song to me whilst keeping his bull terrier under control. His jibe didn’t sink in till after they’d passed by but I just smiled thinking of my counselling studies about diversity, there was a half cast chav calling me names, of course if I’d have insulted him I would have most likely been beaten to a pulp and then berated after by some ‘do gooder’ for remarking about his skin colour, not that I am racist anyway. Still, Chav’s are so prevalent in my town now they are renaming the local rag from the ‘The Chad’ to ‘The Chav’.
On getting back from the trials of town I treated my self to a bottle of wine from the local off licence only to have a bad headache the next morning. Saturday I geared myself up to a complete state of non motivation and did a minimal amount around the flat. I’d ordered some cream that is supposed to remove scratches from mobile phone screens but it just didn’t work, so again I felt ripped off. The rest of the weekend was too dull to really mention in my blog, I’ve already bored you all now but I can’t do happy blog’s all the time!

Here's what http://www.urbandictionary.com/ says about chav's in one of its many 'chav' entries.

1. Chav

Picture this a young lad about 12 years of age and 4 ½ feet high baseball cap at ninety degrees in a imitation addidas tracksuit, with trouser legs tucked into his socks (of course, is definitely the height of fashion). This lad is strutting around, fag in one hand jewellery all over, outside McDonalds acting as if he is 8 foot tall and built like a rugby player, when some poor unsuspecting adult (about 17/18) walks round the corner wanting to go to mcdonalds for his lunch glances at the young lad, the young thug jumps up in complete disgust and says “Whats your problem? Wanna make sommin of it? Bling Bling” when the adult starts to walk towards the young lad, the young lad pisses himself and runs off to either his pregnant 14-year-old girlfriend or his brother in the army crying his eyes out.

My mate has become a chav what can i do? answer is shoot him before it is too late

Bad Apple

A complaint that Apple's music download service is "ripping off" UK customers by charging them more than users in France and Germany has been referred to the European Commission. The consumer body Which? wrote to the Office of Fair Trading in September, asking it to investigate why prices for using the iTunes service are 20 per cent higher in the UK than in France and Germany. The OFT, the competition watchdog in the UK, has now asked the European Commission to look into the matter. Phil Evans, principal policy adviser at Which?, formerly the Consumers' Association, said: "UK consumers are getting a raw deal from Apple."

I was actually going to get an ipod but looking at the growing market for mp3 players there's alot about with better ability than the 'fashion icon' ipod. Creative Labs are releasing a similar model called the 'Zen' which is very like the ipod but with more features. It's just hard to choose with such a myriad of models about. I think I'll stick with my existing model at the moment.

Height discrimination

I found this interesting piece whilst browsing on the web, wrote by an American guy called Glenn Beard and I felt compelled to put it in my blog, not being the tallest person myself!

'Height Discrimination is quite simply the regarding of a person as lesser on account of their height.

A macho undercurrent holds, which tells us that disputes can often be won with a physical fight if all else fails. Western thinking teaches us that we may pursue an argument to its end for short term advantage, in any way that we can. Even if a finger is not raised in anger, assumptions of the strength of argument are weighted with posturing. To fail to match this posturing is seen as weakness in a small man. To match it, aggressiveness and the "Napoleon complex" is assumed. So in many situations, short men, whatever they do, will be labelled as having "short man's syndrome," with all the baggage and circular arguments for its confirmation attached.
Entertainment and global politics confirm this notion, even in the face of a more enlightened society. An ability to perform comfortably with those at the top is an essential requirement to succeed in business or government, indeed in leadership generally. If taller is taken as more confident, and more confident as more likely to succeed, then assumptions about a candidate's likelihood to succeed is going to be based on their height.

A notable recent example is the treatment of the "seriousness" of Democratic party nominees. John Kerry was the tallest at 6'4", and also won. Not much was mentioned about contenders at the other end of scale. Out of the first-round survivors, comments about "diminutive" Howard Dean were to be found in the New York Times (from 5'3" writer Adam Nagourney), together with ponderings over whether a man of his height might have "anger problems." Such examples are numerous. The US is not alone, Britain is catching up rapidly. Michael Howard was declared leader of the Conservative party in the UK, a move which had The Telegraph and even The Guardian gushing about his attributes: "He's tall" was first amongst the points of praise.'

Formidable Maiden

After being paid mid week I drifted into town and ultimately into Hmv, not to purchase an over priced cd but to peruse offers etc. I ended up in the rock section and found myself flicking through Iron Maiden cd's, memories of familiar tunes circled in my head as I browsed each cd. I'd once had a decent collection of Iron Maiden on vinyl and now my cd collection of their stuff only consisted of the 'Live after death' cd which I often listen to.

Meanwhile in the shop I stumbled across a collection of their greatest hits called 'Edward the Great' priced at £5.99 so I decided to indulge, mainly so I could listen to it at work on nights and liven the place a little. On listening to the cd it struck me how good they still sound today, fresh, loud and bursting with rock energy. I'm really enjoying listening to it and also chuffed that these guys are still around. They don't appear in the charts these days but then again Legends don't have to...

Wandering therapist

Huggy Bear a.k.a Antonio Fargas has left the jungle, shame as I quite liked the guy. Having been voted out I presume that the majority of the British populace began to see him as boring or thought he was the stereotypical American. Vic Reeves termed Huggy as a 'wandering therapist' which I thought was very apt but for me Huggy was restrained, chilled and retained dignity - he was far from how the Brits portray our yank friends these days.

Maybe people expected Huggy to be like his character on Starsky and Hutch but he played himself, he had wise words of encouragement for the younger members, ironically some of them resented it and thought they knew better. On leaving the show he looked liked a wandering shamanic wise man, a traveller, a gypsy and lastly very cool.

On leaving Huggy tipped Janet Street-Porter to win and I hope he's right, she was once the self styled guru of Brit 'Youff' Tv and to be honest I like her attitude. It's one of 'I take no crap' combined with caring and compassion. Some may find her overbearing at times but she certainly is an icon for women of her generation and indeed of mine! Janet cooks for the camp and fetches fire wood whilst Sophie Anderton who should be an energetic 26 year old sits around stroking her own ego and preening herself.

I hope Janet wins too but I suspect the 'Youff' of today will see to it she won't, it's up to the class of the 80's when she was at her presenting heights to get behind her.

Vote Janet Street-Porter!

I'm a celebrity, well almost....

As friends of mine know, I love reality tv.

I must confess though that the present series of 'I'm a celebrity - get me out of here' (Itv, 9pm)is somewhat lacklustre. It's already predictable who will probably win, the camera's make sure of that with how they are portraying various celeb wannabe's or has beens on the show.

Take for example Huggy Bear and Vic Reeves who went out into the jungle to retrieve a chest and had to do a task of throwing various objects at items in order to knock them over a la fairground stylee. Huggy was seen limp writstedly using a water rifle whilst Vic Reeves was seen using a boomerang in a macho style. The camera pans back to Huggy still wrestling with the water gun and again goes back to Vic using a catapult heroically. They obviously want a Brit to win the show then?

There's no contention in camp this time around, no friction really - they all seem to be the get along gang. You just know the public will vote the loud mouth's off, ironic as they are the ones that make it interesting.

You just know the nice, restrained and stereotyped person will win, that's because we're British and we like that sort of thing.

The voting seem's veiled too, why can't we see ongoing statistics and even react to them by voting accordingly? You get the feeling someone called 'Julian' is in the background, he's a producer calling the shots to his team in a manipulative manner 'Right luvvies we'll have Vic voted out this week, he's getting too good at the tasks!'

The mind boggles, the public love it (hey, I love it too)

Potato Tea

Recipe

• Take one favourite mug with a picture of the Emerald isle on the side.
• Over a period of weeks, never wash it.
• Brew various types of tea - Chai, Lapsang souchong, Earl Grey, Lady Grey, Assam, Darjeeling and add to the mug at different intervals.
• Dunk biscuits in it.
• Don't change your water filter for months.
• The result is a refreshing cup of Potato tea, tastes like pure potato !

A feminine interlude

I was parched, this was due to the indulgence of the evening before when I'd joined my dad in drinking several Kronenberg's - more than our normal intake.

There we were, heading back from visiting a retail outlet, my throat was screaming for liquid and I suggested to the old man to pull over at the next oppurtunity so I could slake my thirst. In no time we left the hectic dual carriageway, dad mumbled he needed petrol anyway and I hastily jumped out the car and headed for the beckoning fridges that waited for my eager throat.

As I strode across the garage forcourt I saw her using the speedbank terminal, she sported blue jeans that fitted her feminine contours well but not too tight and looking up her torso was adorned by a creamy coloured sweater. From behind I could see her hair was swept back into a neat pony tail but as I got closer she turned away to count her money, I headed into the garage as my thirst got the better of my male curiosity.

Momentarily she'd left my mind, I paid for the refreshments and as I turned there she was, striding towards me in her white sports trainers - a friendly smile on her face. I smiled back weakly as my eyes feasted on the vision before me. She was of average build, curvy feminine hips that swayed gracefully as she walked and her sweater did little to conceal her full and ripe bosom. Looking again at her visage I could see it was totally natural and without cosmetics, framed by rustic brown hair tapered into a pony tail, it was sheer beauty. As she glided past me I turned to again to drink in her voluptuous contours.

I eased myself back into dads car and we both remained silent as she returned to her large saloon model, then we turned and smiled to each other as she sped off, that knowing manly smile that men often exchange.

Then she was gone, I'd never see her again, know her name or anything about her but for those brief moments that cloudy morning she'd captured my imagination.