31.12.11 Ninety-Nine Things We Could Have Done Without in 2011

We could have done without the following in 2011 - and would manage exceedingly well without them in 2012.

1. Rihanna - too much of a bad thing
2. Natasha Giggs and her pointless contributions to society
3. Kelly Brook - get a life and stop loitering for photos
4. Sofa adverts on TV - surely we all have one by now?
5. Big Brother - whether ordinary or 'celebrity', it's pure SHIT
6. Halifax 'singing adverts' - try a new approach, please!
7. Kerry Katona - need I say more?
8. Katie Price - please just disappear from view
9. The Co-operative's use of "Good with food"
10. John Terry
11. Doctor Who
12. Health & Safety
13. Cookery programmes on TV
14. Political correctness
15. The Euro
16. Semolina
17. John Prescott
18. Union Leaders
19. Bruce Forsyth
20. A reduction in the salt content in Heinz Soups & Pot Noodles
21. Kelly Rowland
22. Anything Olympics related
23. Insurance Comparison Websites
24. Wonga
25. Brighthouse and Perfect Homes
26. Rihanna - doesn't hurt to make doubly sure
27. Let-offs for criminals, and soft sentences
28. Argentina's renewed efforts to claim the Falklands
29. TOWIE
30. Thick cunts earning a fortune for being thick cunts
31. Frankie Cocozza
32. Trailers for 'News at Ten'
33. Sponsorship of TV programmes
34. Every TV show having to have a competition
35. Andrew Lloyd Webber
36. Greensleeves
37. Benefit cheats
38. Ludicrous levels of tax on petrol and diesel
39. New Years Honours and inappropriate recipients
40. The phrase "Award Winning"
41. Personal injury claim companies/services
42. Stupid things done in the name of 'charity'
43. The existence in the UK of circa 200,000 registered charities !!!
44. The obsession of youngsters with being famous, with no effort/talent
45. Overpaid doctors, ripping off the NHS
46. MPs who are often self-serving shits
47. Tony Blair
48. Religion
49. Clocks changing twice each year
50. The supposed need for, and relentless pursuit of, 5-a-day
51. Argos queues
52. Councillors
53. Dogs
54. Airport 'security' enforcing 100ml limit on liquids
55. Christine Bleakley
56. Empty shelves in supermarkets for 'value range' products
57. Subway
58. Simon Cowell
59. Speed cameras
60. Iceland (the shop, not the country)
61. Illiterate advertisers
62. Channel 5
63. Kirstie Allsopp
64. Toilet seats that will not stay up
65. Any use of the word (ha!) "Ream"
66. Any word ending in "z" - [ eg. Soz, for sorry ]
67. Clothes tags/labels that itch and scratch
68. Alan Hanson
69. Fragrances/perfumes launched by twats/celebrities
70. Terms & Conditions
71. Use of the words "up to" when it's never actually that good
72. 'Plural' fuck-ups, [ eg. Stadiums rather than Stadia ]
73. Prince Andrew
74. Sarah Ferguson
75. Beatrice and Eugenie
76. Amy Childs
77. Cold pasta
78. Embarrassing Bodies
79. Fabio Capello
80. Too many disabled parking spaces
81. A "double size" costing more than two "standard" size
82. Kidney Beans
83. Anything else maroon
84. Rihanna - third time for luck
85. Double negatives
86. Escalators for shopping trolleys
87. Obesity / fat cunts
88. Traffic lights on roundabouts
89. Prunes
90. The words "Faux" and "Uber"
91. Temperatures which are mild, hot, cold, freezing, instead of high or low
92. Call queuing systems on customer service help lines
93. Carparks where the spaces are too narrow for doors to be opened
94. The term "one size fits all" - because it doesn't!
95. Sticky price labels that tear and will not be removed
96. KFC chips
97. People who stand, blocking the aisles, and talk in shops
98. Repeats on television
99. Sand

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31.12.11 Priority Club Rewards Offer

I am so very lucky, because I have been selected as worthy to apply for a Priority Club Rewards Black Visa.  It will get me 40,000 points, and subject to a million (slight exaggeration) conditions and complicated terms, I can benefit from a representative APR of 39.7% (variable).  This includes the £99 annual fee, although this is refunded for the first year.  So, I am supposed to apply, be charged £99 and then have it refunded by the end of March.  There's obviously some legal necessity to make me pay it to then have it paid back.  At a guess, I will probably be liable to pay it should I cancel - not sure, as the terms are too lengthy to read.

I have considered the offer, and after much angst, I've decided that good as the interest rate is (!!!) I will decline, and post the paperwork/crap back to the sender (unsigned) using the handy prepaid envelope.

"The Smartest Investment You'll Ever Make" is not quite how I'd have put it, but the marketing people obviously thought this statement on the back of the leaflet was a good idea.

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31.12.11 Wolf Galactic

No, this is not the name of a sister ship of the Starship Enterprise, but the name that Jonathan Ross apparently wanted to give his son.  His wife made him see sense (to a degree) and instead of such a stupid name, the boy has been labelled Harvey Kirby Ross.  The middle name may well be a brand of vacuum cleaner, but in general, his lot in life will be slightly better without the Wolf Galactica shit. 

Why the fuck do 'celebrities' seem to think it's cool to give offspring shit names.  Pop stars love to do this, whether they're Zappa or Bowie, and of course we have Harper Seven Beckham - which in my opinion could be improved upon by making it a score line: Harper Seven, Beckham Nil.

Ross's other kids are Betty Kitten and Honey Kinney.  Arseholes - not them (yet) but the parents.

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30.12.11 Christmas Warning

I have to report that there are dark forces at work, trying to kill children.  These attacks are in the form of Christmas Cards, so please look around your dwelling and see if there are any threats.  The cards in question could, in effect, be like unexploded bombs.  How do I know all this?  Simple - there are warnings printed on certain cards, warnings that clearly identify the dangers.  In most cases, the threat is to small children, mostly up to three years old.  There are other dangers, depending on the nature of the card.  Here are two examples.

Warning: This card is not a toy and is unsuitable for children under 36 months.  Contains small parts.

This I found printed on the reverse of what I'd thought to be a rather ordinary Christmas card.  However, closer inspection revealed that 15cm x 15cm card, with "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" printed on the front, contained a subtle threat to life.  Yes, next to the writing, below the winter scene, was a snowflake, about the size of a 10 pence piece.  It was affixed to the card with a sticky pad, so strongly that it's impossible to get off.  To my mind, it would be easier for a sub-36-month-old to rip off a corner of the fucking card and stuff that up his/her nose in any bid to block airways and commit suicide.  Nevertheless, it seems that the CIC* are keen on maintaining a nanny state where all threats are detailed through standard means, and prescriptive messages are compulsory.  This is on occasion useful, as I am quite sure there are some arseholes on the planet who might otherwise buy a Christmas card thinking that it is a TOY.

The second example came from a card that was a musical card - you know the sort, which plays a little tune when opened.

Warning: This product is not a toy.  Not suitable for children under 3 due to small parts and/or sharp points which may constitute a choking hazard and/or risk of laceration.  Do not dispose of the batteries in a waste bin.  Do not throw into a fire as this product contains batteries.  The batteries contained in this card are non-chargeable.

Fuck me!  Anyone would think that I bought Mrs MWSC a radioactive sample!  Never has the opening section of "Unchained Melody" caused so much fucking grief.  We have had to make sure that the card is out of reach in case visiting children receive unwanted lacerations.  Further, I have invested in a concrete container to hold a lead-lined box, within which the card is set, below one-inch thick glass.  The box is stored in the cellar, at a constant 5 degrees.  This Christmas card has a half-life of seven years (bad luck, eh?) and so I rather suspect we will have to make suitable provision for way beyond my lifetime.  Junior will have to be briefed.  How the fuck anyone in this family will ever dispose of the card is beyond me.  A check on the website of UK Greetings Ltd reveals nothing by way of advice on how to dispose of its products after all enjoyment has ceased; in fact, there is strangely no mention at all of the 'Inventions' range - it was never here!  I have searched all brands etc, especially under the Hanson White name (printed on the back of the card) but there is nothing.  I believe I might be at a "Pelican Brief" moment here . . . . . where's Julia Roberts when you need her?

Oh well.  We will just have to send it on to someone else when the occasion calls for a musical card.

* Cunts In Charge

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29.12.11 Doctor Who Cares?

A few days ago, as reported in the papers, there seems to have been some 'progress' regarding the exhausted relationship between Matt Smith and ex-girlfriend Daisy Lowe.  They left her home together in the morning, "sparking hopes of a reconciliation", as was stated in The Sun newspaper.  What I'd like to know is in whom, or for whom, the hopes were sparked?  The reporter likes to think there's some sort of Who Watch going on, with avid followers desperately hoping for the pair to get back together again.  Who's been spoken to to verify these 'hopes' being sparked?  If he's scared of commitment and settling down at 29, then he's clearly immature, and needs some more time on his Xbox.  Who'd have though he could be such a plonker?

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29.12.11 Skinless Sausages & So Much More

Richmond
On Tuesday, I cooked twelve Richmond Skinless Sausages.  After trying to eat one, I had to stop, as the glorified paste was awful.  I concluded that there could have been an improvement made by the manufacturers, by making them both skinless and sausageless.

Soaps
Why the fuck do the TV channels obsess over showing programmes that involve one set of idiots from a Soap against another equally dim set?  Every fucking game show is hijacked; naf quizes are devised; lame versions of shit programmes are served up.  Usually most helpings are "for charity", as if this excuses the useless level of creativity in television.  If it's not Coronation Street V Emmerdale, it's Hollyoaks V Rosie & Jim. 

Just What We Didn't Need
I saw a trailer last night, for a double helping (forgive the pun) of cookery programmes next Wednesday, on Channel 4.  Just when the whole fucking country is overrun by cookery programmes, and the nation is collectively obese as fuck, we have two extra versions of how to cook.  "How To Cook Like Heston" - what the hell do we need this shit for?  This is followed by "The Fabulous Baker Brothers".  If anyone hasn't got a life of any description, and needs to be topped up with information, presented by arseholes, on stuff in the kitchen, then feel free to tune in.

Celebrities
Why does there have to be a 'celebrity' version of everything ever devised for TV?  Most of the celebrities are trying to bolster their precarious 'careers' and are so in-your-face they are nauseating.  Sorry, but if you're a supposed celebrity, that's fine - just fuck off and be one, and do whatever it is that made you one (in your own eyes even if not in mine).  But do not presume that I give a cuntin' fuck about your talents as a chef when you ride a fucking bike for a living, or might have come third in the Team GB Cuntathlon [consisting of the 400m Pedalo, 100m Pogo Stick, Kite Flying, the Macrame Relay, Darts, Cribbage, Blancmange Eating, Skipping, Pacman, Whistling, Rounders, Sofa Buying and Synchronised Semaphore].

Send It
I have abandoned attempting to purchase anything from this company.  It used to be a good alternative to Amazon, but on principle, I think I'll pass.  I discovered a week ago that there's a sting-in-the-tail when you fill your shopping cart.  The seven DVDs for £25 was excellent value, albeit that I was looking for bargains rather than latest releases.  I expected to pay up to £5 delivery, but was stunned when £14 cuntin' quid popped up.  £2 per item?  No chance.  Click.  "Keep It" is the new name, I think.

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29.12.11 You Da One

This latest "offering" from Rihanna is shit.  That would be fine if there were nothing else to report, but unfortunately she's not content with providing us with a "song" that's more annoying than Umbrella.  No, she's had to include criminal grammar.  What the fuck?  "I da one" - is that English, Martian, what?  This is nothing to do with supposed artistic licence - it's simply fucking pathetic, and dumbed-down cuntin' shit.

The video that goes with this is a masturbation sequence that lasts for about three and a half minutes.  She grabs her cunt and rubs her crotch all the way through it - apparently more than twenty times.  This woman is supposed to be a talented international superstar, but she acts like a cunt.  Whether it's "Fuck off" written on shoes during the X-Factor performance, gyrations and cunt-thrusting the previous year, or this latest cunt-rubbing session, there's something seriously wrong with the singer for adopting this approach, and something wrong with the world for endorsing it through following the singer - and buying the shit.  There was an outcry a few years ago when mums claimed it was hard for their daughters not to be affected by and copy some of the actions of Christina Aguilera around the time of the Dirrty song.  How tame that will now seem to mums who try to convince that even if their 7-14 year old daughters like Rihanna's latest pop tune (mind-numbing repetitive disposable shit, to you and me) it might not be a good idea for them to rub their cunts while singing along, especially in public.

Criminal grammar, criminal video, criminal example to fans.  Why the need?

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27.12.11 Chocolate Biscuits

The Co-op has described the collection of biscuits as an "assortment", presented in a box of 450g.  Having adopted the metric system (against public opinion) some time ago, there has been a weird re-setting of benchmark weights.  One might expect under a metric system that 500g would be more appropriate for an assortment of biscuits - half a kilo.  In many instances, we still see metric equivalents for imperial measures, so a pound (1lb) is 454g.  The weight of 450g however is simply an adjusted figure for the benefit of the manufacturer, not the consumer.

The contents of this box can be identified by the picture and descriptions on the reverse side.  The twelve different biscuit types that make up the assortment of marginally below 1lb of sweetness, biscuit and additives are stated to have been covered in chocolate in an "assortment" of ways as well.  Here are the key elements:

1. Digestive biscuit smothered in thick milk chocolate . . . .
2. Crunchy digestive biscuit coated with milk chocolate . . . .
3. Crunchy finger coated with thick creamy milk chocolate . . . .
4. Crunchy biscuit ring enrobed with thick creamy milk chocolate.
5. Crunchy biscuit fully enrobed with rich, dark chocolate.
6. Sandwich biscuit . . . . generously coated in milk chocolate.
7. Digestive biscuit covered in white chocolate . . . .
8. Rich shortcake biscuit fully coated in white chocolate . . . .
9. Crumbly biscuit filled with chocolate cream and smothered with thick milk chocolate.
10. Crumbly biscuit filled with orange cream and coated with rich, dark chocolate.
11. Oat biscuit smothered with thick milk chocolate.
12. Digestive biscuit fully coated with milk chocolate . . . .

What a fantastic assortment of descriptions for the assortment of biscuits.  Some biscuits have been smothered, some covered, some coated and some even enrobed!  There's also variation in the extent to which chocolate has been applied, because some have the descriptions of fully or generously, to tempt the eater.  How to decide between one "enrobed in thick creamy milk chocolate" versus one that's "fully enrobed with rich, dark chocolate" is hard.  On a grammatical basis, one should of course technically go for the latter, because there is a comma after the word 'rich', as there ought to be with two adjectives preceding the noun.  Strangely, 'rich' is the only adjective the Co-op has decided needs separating in this way.  Both thick and creamy are exempt, apparently, from such an approach (?)

The very first biscuit pictured is a biscuit that's "topped with a star motif" and there's a sort of disc on top.  What the description does not include is the sneaky approach that's been adopted on the underside.  Hidden from view is a hole; no one could have predicted it would be there, but it's there.  There's no reason for it at all, in terms of biscuit construction, but I do believe that I have established exactly where the missing 4 grammes went !!!

I was about to finish this blog post, and no word of a lie, Junior MWSC mentioned the exact same thing.  As I was holding the box, he said (pointing to the first biscuit pictured):

"That one's a fucking con - all the top does is hide a massive hole in the bottom."

Like father like son.

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26.12.11 Warnings & Contents

A box of extra long matches (for lighting the gas fire) shows a winter scene on the front side.  How thoughtful of Bryant & May to want to acknowledge the time of year.  The snow-covered trees make all the difference.  On the reverse of the box there's an out-of-focus lake in the background, with the dangling snow-covered branches of a tree taking up 75% of the frame.  To the right of the photo is some supposedly useful information on the contents, and the makers.

The most striking (ha!!!) element (haha!) is the little logo that fire can be dangerous - not to everyone, just to children.

It seems that adults (and I assume animals as well) are not in danger at all - the nasty stuff just goes for the kids!  I am not sure whether those at risk are below the age of 18, or whether one of the various other definitions of a 'child' applies for fire.  You know the score, because the 'child' label sometimes runs out at 10, 12, 14, 16 rather than 18.  Depending whether you're talking about a ride at the funfair (can be 10, 12, 14 or 16), killing someone (10), voting (18), marrying (16/18 for with/without parental consent), buying a lottery ticket (16) or getting child allowance payments (18, and actually technically 19 as well in some cases), there are numerous interpretations.  There are many more, perhaps some that involve more uneven numbers.  Uneven numbers that are perhaps as nonsensical as the contents of my box of extra long matches - 45.  Who the fuck decided that 45 was to be the benchmark for collections of matches (?) - especially this "Winter Collection", as printed on the front, below the snow-covered trees.

There is no punctuation on the information, but I suppose the change of font size is meant to help the reader make the correct intonation and separation in the detail.  If not, then the advice would actual be (in the same font size) just as the type below:

KEEP AWAY

FROM CHILDREN

Made in EU

Now, if we take the statement as a whole, it seems there's an issue with EU-based children.  Children from the Americas, or the far-east are apparently not to be avoided; but there can be no mistake here that the makers of the matches are keen to us to keep away from children in the EU.  It does say "made", but that could mean 'conceived', or it could mean 'born'.  All this makes me appreciate why legislation is so hard to create, what with so many interpretations etc. 

If we accept that the "Made in EU" part relates to the matches, the whole thing becomes more of an issue, as both Bryant and May seem to want us to keep away from children in general.  Of course all this confusion and failure to use the language properly could have been avoided so easily - by the insertion of the word 'Matches' - well of all the words available, who'd have thought that on a box of matches, the one that fucks everything up by being missed out is . . . . "Matches" !!! 

As for the little warning logo itself, I find it hilarious.  There are dark forces out there that are persecuting children, setting fire to them and telling us all to avoid them - who'd be a child these days?  Fortunately it's only the left arms of the children that are in danger initially, as per the pictorial advice.  Does a burnt off left arm lead to death?  Quite probably, because we know that "Fire Kills Children" from the accompanying notes.  I suggest that we must therefore amputate the left arms of children before fire can take hold.  That would deny one of the four natural elements it's fun and ability to end life.  There's always the chance, though, that they could drown in bottled water (unless bottles include the advice "Danger - Water Drowns Children" along with a suitable picture).  Earth could be warned against, eg. landslides, sandpits etc. and air can be dangerous if one thinks of high winds, gales, hurricanes, which we all know target children ruthlessly.

So, Swedish Match or Bryant & May, whatever you like to call yourself, I will ensure that I make proper use of my 45 matches, that I avoid children (especially those conceived and/or born in the EU) and that I also keep the 45 matches away from said youngsters.  As for the instruction to "Strike gently and away from body" I must advise that I am not in a union, and have never gone on strike in my life - so I don't need to be told to strike gently (whatever gently would mean in reality).  I have never had an out-of-body experience, so I cannot do any gentle striking away from my body either.  On so many levels, the whole thing is flawed, so there ought to be a redesign of the matchbox, the number of contents and the pictorial and written advice.  I suggest that the words 'match' or 'matches' might be used in the right places, rather than strangely omitted.

Finally, I would like to congratulate Swedish Match UK Ltd on its helpful comment along one side (the side of the box where in the old days, a second 'striking area' would have existed) which states:

IDEAL FOR OPEN FIRES AND CANDLES

Thanks, because without that help, I'd have been of no fucking use to myself or my family in using the damned things!  Thank you so much for advice on what a cunting match could be ideal for. 

25.12.11 Curfew Cunts

It's actually quite hard to work out who the biggest cunt is - either of the offenders, or the Magistrate.  The latter, Anthony Smithson, was acting as chairman of the Bench and decided that two thugs would be allowed an extension to their curfew, to watch a football match!  The two of them had beaten up an 18-year-old and their sentence included a curfew between the hours of 9pm and 6am.  Allowing the curfew to be relaxed just so the twats can see a football match is hardly justified, and sends out the usual message to all would-be criminals, cunts and wrong-doers.  The fact that the two admitted they'd have gone to the match anyway rather proves that the curfew is a useless measure, and that criminal behaviour is not dealt with properly. 

The statement by a chap (Mr Khan) from Victim Support was a limp effort: "Decisions like these could undermine confidence in the justice system."  Could?  COULD?  There's no fucking 'could' about it!  Further, there is no 'justice', no system and so no justice system.  Finally, there's NO CUNTIN' confidence in any kind of justice or consistency already!  What planet do you live on?  The statement should have been: "Decisions like this prove that there is no justice system, that there is nothing for people to believe in anymore, and that cunts get away with things all the time."

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25.12.11 Despicable Driving

Two stories last week highlighted how dangerous cars can be in the hands of stupid twats.  The first relates to a woman called Jill Copsey, and her ineptitude resulted (fortunately) in no physical injuries for others - or herself, for that matter.  She hit the accelerator instead of the brake in her Chevrolet automatic.  She drove straight through the wall in her house, and nearly parked in the dining room.  Afterwards, she said: "It's put me off driving."  Well, that's a fucking relief, as I wouldn't want to have her parked opposite me at the supermarket!  With such inability to control a tonne of metal, she could be lethal to others.

Now to a more tragic example, where the driver (Beatrice Mawamba) managed to do terrible damage.  She decided to learn how to drive, and her equally dumb and fucking useless husband acted as instructor.  However, she was let loose with the Vauxhall Astra despite having no idea how to steer, what the gears did or even where the break pedal was.  She lurched forward, went down some steps of a pedestrian walkway, and ploughed across a grassed play area.  She crushed and killed a nine-year-old girl, and left two of her friends with severe leg injuries.  A jail sentence of two years is a pathetic outcome.  There is nothing that can undo the damage done by this halfwit cunt, but to take a life in such a manner and get a sentence that will in effect mean serving 10 months is hardly appropriate.  What I cannot understand is why the police decided not to pursue charges against her husband.  He bought his wife the car, and acted as the instructor.  He was the one who allowed her to proceed without any sensible level of awareness or knowledge of the most basic points of driving.  How the fuck has he escaped punishment?  In summary, there is no deterrent here, so 'the system' is saying that anyone can supervise and act as an instructor, without any fear of punishment if there's not the slightest sense of responsibility adopted.  Husband and wife are equally to blame!

Yes, this was a weird accident, and a freak event - but TOTALLY avoidable.  Disgusting behaviour by the driver, the husband, the police and the courts.

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25.12.11 Rude Beer

This is probably 'one level up' from the Old Git wine that is commonly available.  Admittedly this is home-made (the doctored label on the bottle, not the beer itself).

In line with "It's better to give than to receive" I gave this to Junior MWSC as a stocking-filler.  Ho-ho-ho.

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24.12.11 Torture at HMV

What absolute agony - trying to browse for DVDs while cunts are completely murdering songs and fucking my ears up.  Today I was tortured in HMV.  There are two problems to deal with which work together to piss us off at this time of the year.  The first comes in two parts:

No.1

a) Singers think that we might actually like listening to their versions of completely cuntin' shit versions of Christmas Carols and Christmas songs.
b) The fuckers actually bother to record them

No.2

HMV has decided that it is wholly appropriate to torture the customers whose pounds might go some way to saving the loss-making entity.

The result of the above was a vile experience where ballads, nursery rhymes and novelty efforts were all squeezed through the hidden speakers to screw brain cells and lobotomise customers.  I despised myself for spending money in the shop. 

On a more general note, I'd already experienced some sound input via an old bloke sitting in the middle of the pedestrianised area - he was murdering "White Christmas".  Oh yes, he most certainly did "make it his own" and as far as I'm concerned, he should have kept it as well, because I didn't want it!  When I left HMV, I discovered a pair of 'performers' giving us 'trade test transmission' music [hopefully some of you will remember that musak].  The saxophone player was good, and his small amp meant it reached a fair number of people.  Next to him stood a bloke of dubious musical talent, who tapped a tambourine.  It was all okay for 60-90 seconds (whereas the wannabe Bing Crosby's White Christmas was worthy of 3.5 seconds of my life - that being the time it took me to recognise that was what he was 'making his own').

Round the corner, a few minutes later, I came across the obligatory 'pan pipes' offering.  You know the score - sounds like you should look up and spot an eagle, while a full orchestra pumps out rich backing music to support the pipes.  Turned out to be one bloke and three massive speakers.

Further along, half hour later, I stumbled upon (not literally) another sax player, but he was solo, and without amplification.  The rendition of Jingle Bells (or should that be Fucking Jingle Bells) was shit.  Ten minutes later, where Bing had been sitting earlier, I saw a chap wailing.  I thought he needed medical attention, but then realised he was trying to sing while strumming a guitar.  I believe he thought he was like "a young Bruce Springsteen" [you can almost hear Louis Walsh saying that, if you lift a shell to your ear].  Dire.

As for the shoppers, I realise now who it is that keeps Sports Direct in business.  "Scrotes" in trackie bottoms and shitwear were everywhere.  Often I would see the classic "family unit".  First comes the pushchair, with a poor kid inside.  It's being pushed by a relatively young female who at first glance seems quite attractive.  Further inspection proves this not to be the case.*  Behind her, some four paces back, is a nob in shitwear, on a mobile phone, ignoring the rest of the world.

* In a few circumstances, I realised that there was a similarity to the programme Changing Rooms.  Just as the rooms got a makeover by the designers and decorators, some of the females appeared to have made an effort to distinguish themselves from the dropout husband/boyfriend/father of the kid/stalker [delete as appropriate] and not wear 'sportswear shit'.  The truth, though, in almost all cases, was that just as a coat of paint can be applied, makeup can also try to cover poor plasterwork. 

On the entrance doors to New Look (I didn't go in, by the way) were signs saying "Open As Usual".  There was no reason at all why the shop wouldn't have been open, and the written declaration seemed to want me to hear a sigh after the three words.  It was almost as if the shop was sighing, resigned to its fate on a Saturday, and bemoaning the fact that, as usual, it was open.  Very odd.

Talking of signs, in the window of Ann Summers (again, I didn't go in) it said:

SALE
If we took any more off it would be obscene

This struck me as a clever play on words considering the products for sale etc, but I then considered the association with 'obscene' as a flaw in the campaign, as the prices in Ann Summers are known to be obscene in the first place, more obscene than any underwear or rabbits or cunt ticklers.

By the way, I looked for a few seconds in a shop called BANK, but left after discovering I needed to own one to afford anything, even in the supposed 'sale'!  Another Bank rip-off, then; mad prices.  Next door, I did make a purchase - at WH Smiths.  Admittedly it was the only thing any sensible person would ever buy at this shop - newspapers.  Everything else is a rip-off.  Unbelievably the cramped paying area (where a tiny 'snake' has existed for ages, in front of the two tills) has been further blighted and minimised by the introduction of two self-service scanning points.  The design is so fucking ludicrous, it's actually worth including as an eighth wonder of the modern world.  The shop has employed a bloke to encourage people to take three steps from the snake and serve themselves, although this smacks of job creation on his part.  I say this because the fucking scanners don't work properly and he has to override them with a key-card and by tapping a code.  Three times I tried to pay but the machine needed his help.  Luckily he was quick to respond, as my own sort of help would have come from a foot to the belly of the metal lump of shit.  So, the lanky chap moved in a triangle, between the two malfunctioning scanners and the queue (three paces away) in a bid to tease customers with an illusion of a quicker payment option and then deal with the issues arising.  WH Smiths will not last this recession without some radical rethinking!

My last comment on a shop relates to "That's Entertainment', which sold CDs and DVDs.  There was a £1 section, and an offer of 6 CDs for a fiver if they had blue stickers on them.  What a world we live in!  I saw three artists' CDs next to each other, on the floor beneath the main rack, and tried to understand how these three ended up being alongside each other, and if they know their musical output is now bargain basement.  'Yes', is probably the answer, in two cases.  First, Dannii Minogue; second, Celine Dion; third Eoghan Quigg.  I nodded to Samantha Mumba, Martine McCutcheon and Beverley Craven on the way out.

The place was depressing as fuck.  There were supposedly going to be millions of shoppers out today, spending at the last minute.  Well, not in the Northeast, that's for sure.  I'd even taken the train (cheaper than fuel + parking charges) but it was not busy.  The desolate place proves that Britain is in a mess, or perhaps more tellingly, that Middlesbrough is in a coma.  On the way to the station, passing an outdoor wagon selling overpriced coffee, I saw a couple sitting and supping (probably thinking "this isn't quite Rome in the summer") and I was taken aback by the nature of the woman's eyelashes.  No way were they 'volumised' by a factor of 3,5, 7 or millions, depending on which TV adverts you believe credible.  No, they were false, long, thick, bushy and stupid.  In fact, I can sum up exactly how they looked.  I am sure you've seen (if your own is not of this type) a letterbox where the inside has black bristles to keep draughts out.  Her eyes were surrounded by these things, just like the bushy nylon around the inside of a letterbox.

I approached the station, but sadly did not get away with it.  Against all the odds, I was forced to endure Michael Buble.  Not even in HMV did I get a dose of Buble.  I'd gone without such input, and nearly made it to the station door, but I hadn't counted on the taxi parked in the rank, beside which were two woman sat on a bench, swaying and jiggling.  The reason for their fidgeting?  Buble at volume 30 from the taxi radio, windows open.  In line with my previous blog post regarding Black & Yellow", the taxi was annoying as fuck, and, black and yellow - the colour scheme in these parts.  [NB: Michael Buble is an anagram of Bum Belch a Lie]

...

24.12.11 Helicopter Heroes

It's funny what passes for entertainment these days.  Do we get pleasure out of seeing the misfortune of others?  On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, BBC1 decided that viewers needed a break from antiques, property and cookery, so 'Helicopter Heroes' was slipped into the afternoon schedules.  Further, this was supplemented with another programme soon after, called 'Real Rescues' which had equal lack of merit.

There is a subtle 'connection' in the programmes, if one pairs them up as shown below, and I rather feel there was an opportunity missed - the programme makers could surely have cut costs by mixing/fusing the stories.  I have given my own view on what an alternative programme might have been.

Helicopter Heroes (Wed) - Rescuing a woodsman who has been injured by a falling tree
Real Rescues (Tue) - A paraglider becomes stuck up a tree
Cuntwatch TV - A lumberjack cuts down a tree in which a paraglider has got stuck, but is squashed when it falls the wrong way and crushes him

Helicopter Heroes (Tue) - A gardener has a serious accident involving a lawn mover
Real Rescues (Mon) - A mobility scooter is spotted being driver erratically on a duel carriageway
Cuntwatch TV - Two pensioners go head-to-head in a dispute at the edge of a front lawn; the gardener swerves his lawn mower into her mobility scooter before being thrown off and hitting a tree, while the woman is nudged on to the road and struggles to maintain control after the steering mechanism has been truly fucked

Helicopter Heroes (Mon) - The Heli-med team rush [sic] to the scene of a sledging accident
Real Rescues (Wed) - A TV presenter suffers a heart attack
Cuntwatch TV - A TV presenter is the victim of 'sledging' by the cameraman.  In a rage about the insult thrown at him via the snide comment about his marital arrangements, the presenter collapses and needs medical attention

Much better viewing, don't you think?

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23.12.11 Pasta Watch

On 4th September, I recorded on this blog site the outrageous rise in the cost of Pasta at Morrisons.  The 500g basic Pasta Twists had been put up from 17p to 41p overnight.  In November, they were back down to 18p, inexplicably.  Today, they are at 41p again.  Whatever the fuck is going on at Morrisons, it's clear that there are games going on whereby consumers have the piss taken out of them. 

I have not got, in my fridge, a large pork pie.  I realise this statement is odd without further explanation being given, especially as it's possible to mention an infinite number of items that are not in one's fridge.  The pie, though, was something I had intended to have in stock, and ready for the weekend.  Alas, I was denied the opportunity to purchase one.  I could have shown more tenacity, but dismissed the pie from my mind earlier today; only now has it crept back, as I think of Morrisons.  I was set on reaching for a large pie, but was prevented from doing so by a fat fucker who positioned herself and her trolley such that I had no access to the shelves.  I could of course have kicked her in the cunt, flooring her so I could make progress, but I considered that a risky strategy.  She was clearly an advocate of the pie herself, because she must have eaten very many.  As a result, I suspected she'd be a crumpled, immovable heap, and I would not be able to get close enough to the shelves.  My annoyance was already high because it was the same woman I had just 'negotiated' to get some smoked salmon, at the fish section just beforehand.  On that occasion, I was able to show minor patience and make my play before my right foot struck.

Leaving Morrisons was a struggle as well, mainly on account of Maud.  I doubt that's her real name, because it's a complete guess, and I never got on talking terms with her.  As I was leaving, I was blocked by a severe hold up, directly caused by Maud.  She was (and still is, assuming her heating hasn't packed up and she's not died of hypothermia or had any accidents) a woman of perhaps sixty-five to seventy years, who acted like she'd just landed on Mars, or unexpectedly walked through the smoke on Stars In Their Eyes, to the voiceover of "Tonight, Maud, you're going to be Ertha Kitt".  She simply slowed to the speed of an ant in the doorway, causing a blockage that meant gridlock.  Morrisons has more old people for customers than any other supermarket. 

Before I depart, there are other supermarkets at which you can shop: for balance I should mention -

Sainsbury's: nappy sacks (basic range) up from 9p to 16p, so there's clearly some shit going down if a 77% rise is necessary.  Either that, of they are thieving cunts.  Anyway, I'm not going to Sainsbury's now, after 'Glovegate' the other day.

Asda: shower gel up (basic range) up from 8p to 36p.  Why a 350% price increase is necessary is beyond me, unless the 'thieving cunts' description applies.  "Roll Back" my fucking arse!  It was also the case, on my last visit there that the stock availability of the Carlsberg was strangely imbalanced.  The boxes of 20 cans at £10 were not readily visible; then I saw them on the top shelf, all four of them.  I am tall enough to reach the top shelf, and to reach far back enough to get three of them without issue.  It is quite clear to me that the 4 items in an out-of-the-way place were hidden on purpose.  Meanwhile, on the floor, there was a fuck-off great pallet of boxes containing 12 cans, and a big 'offer' sign stating £7.  Hmmmm - 50p per can but we're not going to sell you that, or, 58.3p per can and you can take what you want, there's loads of it.  The sixty cans cost me £30 rather than £35.  Asda also decided to overcharge 84p on a gammon joint; never trust the tills to be 'in-sync' with the shelf prices.  (They will refund x2 on my next visit.)

Tesco: they're just shit.

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22.12.11 Trimmings

I think it's quite strange that Trimmings act the way they do.  They are not known for their contributions for the most part of the year, and tend to disappear from view.  There may be an odd sighting, but certainly no more than that.  Instead, most of us go for most of the year without exposure to Trimmings.

Trimmings, by their very nature, like to associate with each other, to form a presence that's greater than the sum of their parts.  A single Trimming is rarer than a hen's tooth.  It is a fact that Trimmings work together, although I have no idea what a collection is called.  We all know herd, swarm, pride, murder, gaggle, shoal etc.  But what is the word for a group of Trimmings? 

It is not common for Trimmings to settle for a half-hearted showing.  No, it's nearly always the case that if there's to be any Trimming present at all, then it will in fact most likely involve 'all of them'.  That's right, 'All the Trimmings'.  They really do get about, and seem to accompany very many families at meal times, around Christmas - often just for one meal though.  People sit down to a feast with 'All the Trimmings', almost as if the Trimmings were a family that had turned up for some food!  Christmas Dinner with 'All the Trimmings' - the whole family.

I think that after all these years, there should be some variation in the preparation of meals at Christmas.  I advocate people perhaps using fewer Trimmings, and maybe then having some left for other times in the year.  A bit like holding back some fireworks on November 5th, so that on New Year's Eve, you can set a few off.  Why not have Christmas Dinner and 'just a few Trimmings' or 'a couple of Trimmings'?  Why should we strive to clean ourselves out of Trimmings, and have no inclination then to bring them to the table at regular intervals?

I therefore suggest we should be trimming the Trimmings and save some for later.  That's it, by the way - "Table"; my suggestion for a collection of Trimmings.

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22.12.11 Naturally Thinking

I had a 'junk' email yesterday.  It was nothing of major significance, just an email to drum up business.  The company (Naturally Thinking) was offering to guarantee delivery before Christmas - so by Friday - for orders placed by 5pm.  I didn't take up the offer, but did notice that the greeting included in the email was flawed.

I was pleasantly surprised not to have been encouraged to enjoy a "Festive Christmas" (whatever the fuck that means) and there were no "Season's Greetings" included in the covering comments.  However, the company did not manage to score any points with me for two reasons.

1. I was wished a "Very Merry Christmas".  As far as I'm concerned, the 'Very' is a pointless addition, and led to me necessarily having to create a mental scale of felicitations, and then evaluate the merits of a 'Very Merry Christmas' as opposed to the standard 'Merry Christmas' or the more common 'Happy Christmas'.  Who judges the scale of merriment or joy gained through Christmas arriving anyway?
2. Along with the above, I was wished a "Safe and Prosperous New Year".  Now, I have no wish to experience an unsafe 2012, but that's my business and my own concern.  I do NOT wish to be assessed for a donation of safety via a fucking New Year's wish!  Safe?  Safe?  Fuck off with your "Safe" shit.  It's a cuntin' insult for some fucker I don't know to insincerely wish me a Safe New Year!  Furthermore, the felicitation included the misspelled 'Prosperous'.  I hope the prosperity of the company is not dependent upon accurate marketing information!

So there you have it, an update on my incoming emails and the shite that is included.

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21.12.11 Thick Teachers = Thick Kids

Surely there's a limit to how much the system will bend, to allow someone to pursue a career in teaching.  I commend those who want to teach, and those teachers who do a good job.  My gripe (and question) surrounds the assessments made of those who want to go into teaching, and be trusted to educate the nation's children.  Just because an individual wants to go into teaching does not mean it's his or her right to do so.  There are minimum standards that must be met, and a general level of ability that must exist in our teaching staff.

So, I read with disgust a few days ago that thousands of trainee teachers are having to re-sit basic tests - again and again before they qualify.  In one case, a student tackled a maths paper 39 times before finally passing!  He was allowed to go on and work in classrooms.  WHAT the FUCK is the point of testing someone's ability/suitability if they finally get through on the 39th attempt?  Competent to teach?  Of course he's cuntin' not!

Another took 36 goes to get to a pass.  This last year, 13,000 would-be teachers had to take the online re-sits, many ten times or more.  I will not even mention the questions asked, or give examples - they are all answerable by anyone who's not a thick cunt or who's above the intelligence level of a Brillo pad.  Remember, these are basic tests on numeracy and literacy - it's not rocket science.  Apparently Michael Gove is limiting the number of re-sits to two from next year.  I hope to God he sticks to that approach, but fear there'll be concessions/backtracking/'flexibility' or some other step that means we still accept dolts in the classroom (teachers and pupils alike).  The thing is, we will end up with a mad situation, because we have already accepted people not up to the job.

Eg.  Person Number 1 - Existing teacher who's not got a clue about English grammar and instructs children poorly, and who took the test a dozen times before being allowed to proceed to the classroom.  Person Number 2 - Wants to teach, but has failed the two re-sits, but would almost certainly pass on the third attempt.  Alas he is denied progress to the classroom.  With so many thousands already in the system, it's too late now.

Fucked, then.

...

21.12.11 Gloves & Grouse

There would seem to be a common trait regarding the design of gloves and their durability.  I bought Mrs MWSC some gloves and a coat for her birthday a few weeks ago, in Sainsbury's, while we were shopping.  The leather gloves were (and still are) red and it was the colour that made them just that little bit different, and more attractive.  They were only £12.

Some weeks on, just preparing them for a second outing, Mrs MWSC realised that the stitching around the thumb on one glove had come loose.  The result was a small hole in the material, at the seam between the thumb and forefinger.  Really annoying.  A visit to Sainsbury's today presented us with an opportunity to swap them.

The "have you got your receipt" question was posed at the customer service desk, and obviously seven weeks down the line, I was in no position to offer it.  The label said "Tu", so there was no doubt at all that they were from Sainsbury's.  Anyway, the young woman said she'd have a look and see if they could be exchanged.  There were none on display, so a call went out, resulting in a second level of input from a woman who suggested to the first one that checking the system might help.  A few taps on a keyboard later and we were all aware that there were nine pairs for sale.  So, No.2 went off to have a look.

Meanwhile, No.1 showed us the gloves that were available, the black and brown versions, each with a sticker showing a mark-down from £12 to £6.  It was at this point I learned that without my receipt, any refund would be at the £6 level and in the form of a voucher.  Pathetic, but at this stage I was still hopeful of another red pair being located - especially as the computer "said nine". 

After shopping for a bit, while the search proceeded, I learned from a "No.3" version of a customer service person that there were no red ones, nor were there any due to be delivered.  The options were to swap the red pair for a black or brown pair, or get a £6 voucher in exchange for the FAULTY goods because we could not actually prove paying £12 - even though it was the dregs of the stock available at £6 (none being red) and we were clearly down on the deal.  It was not about money, though; the red gloves were wanted.  We decided that it would be better to try and mend them than settle for something that wouldn't have been purchased in the first place. 

The lessons here are:

1. Keep every receipt for everything you buy, as you cannot trust anything in life anymore.
2. The system will always work against you, so never expect flexibility.
3. Sainsbury's is not quite as good as it likes to make out.
4. Stitching on gloves is commonly weak, leading to issues. *
5. Expecting Sainsbury's to try and offer a solution, such as locate another pair (whether online or via another store) is a wild aspiration.
6. There is only a 1.3% chance of there ever being an item "in the stock room" when there isn't one on display, and someone "goes to check".
7. Computer records that say one thing are always at variance with the fucker who goes to look, and returns to say another.

* Debenhams is no better - in fact, worse

As things stand, Mrs MWSC is on the lookout for some strong red cotton and the thinnest needle available, so that repairs to a glove can be undertaken.  Meanwhile, the £108 spent in Sainsbury's grates.  I think, on principle, that I will not be shopping there for a while - why would I?

While we are talking gloves, I'll explain the Debenhams link.  I was bought some gloves a year ago by TMWSC Junior and his Fiancee.  They were perfect; the best gloves I'd ever owned, snug fitting, smooth, warm and just excellent.  However, the stitching on one seam at the top of a forefinger came undone.  I too managed to equal the wear obtained by Mrs MWSC ref her gloves - I wore them once!

The trip to the store revealed that the season for buying gloves lasts three-quarters of the length of the Grouse Shooting Season.  Despite the absurd change in the UK's climate, and weather patterns that promise snow and biting winds any time from September through to April, no cunt can buy gloves except when they're made available.  Come December, shops are not re-ordering, so unless you are a standard size or want a standard looking glove, you'll have to go 'round the clock again'.  I can shoot Grouse from 12th August, but it's too early to buy gloves.  One must not pull the trigger after 10th December, long after any real choice in glove-buying has been reduced severely.  Yes, the Glove Buying Season is 1st September to 1st December.  Outside of these dates, no one can buy and within the dates, only what's been pre-ordered for stock can be considered for purchase.  "When it's gone, it's gone" has never applied more properly.

Debenhams had fuck-all in the shop, but some toffee-nosed cunt suggested that online shopping would be a way to deal with the FAULTY goods - NOTE: she looked at the glove with the loose stitches and I could see her thinking I'd done it myself to return them.  Cunt - I loved them and wanted to swap them, not the money back!  Anyway, the young chap went online, and the £25 gloves were there.  Having been assured that the gloves were exactly the same ones, he ordered on my behalf, and so I was to go home and wait for delivery.  I was looking forward to getting them instead of the £25.  The gloves were down in price but I have to pay for delivery, so it came to the same.  This was irrelevant.

The gloves arrived - they were NOT the cuntin' same!  I gave up, conceded defeat, and have not shopped at Debenhams since.

...

21.12.11 Crumpets, Sprouts & Muffins

How ridiculous!  Some people will do anything to get in the newspapers.  "Anything" includes posing for a photo in front of a pile of crumpets, even though you're scared of them!

Stefani Ingamells claims the mere sight of them makes her feel sick and want to run.  "My first reaction is always to destroy the crumpet.  But then  have a strong urge to run away."  I'm not sure how that explains her new-found ability to sit in front of a pile of them for the camera.  Hmmmmmm.

She doesn't look "terrified" to me.  I don't like brussel sprouts; I find the taste awful, and when I last tried one (many years ago) I literally shuddered while eating one and it took a while to get over the vile taste.  I think I need an article done to explain this to the nation.  However, I do draw the line.  There's a cunt who lives up the road and I can't stand him; I am not about to have a portrait done with him for the national press, though.  I think his name is 'Muffin' - that's right, he's the Muffin Man.  Do you know him?

...

21.12.11 What's Cooking?

What's cooking?  Too fucking much, that's what!  I have counted the cooking programmes in this week's TV listings, as I got annoyed with what appeared to be far too many of them.  From last Saturday through to this Friday, there are loads - and I'm only talking about the 5 terrestrial channels.

Saturday
BBC1      Home Cooking Made Easy (R)
BBC1      Saturday Kitchen Live
ITV1       Countrywise Kitchen: Stocking the Winter Larder (R)
Ch 4       Sunday Brunch: Saturday Starter
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)

Sunday
BBC1      Masterchef: The Professionals (R) (BSL)
BBC2      The Hairy Bikers’ Twelve Days of Christmas (R)
Ch 4       Sunday Brunch
Ch 5       Meals in Moments (R)

Monday
BBC1      Hairy Bikers’ Best of British
BBC1      Masterchef: The Professionals (R) (BSL)
BBC2      The Hairy Bikers: Mum Knows Best at Christmas
BBC2      Junior Bake Off (R)
BBC2      Raymond Blanc’s Christmas Feast
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 5       Meals in Moments (R)

Tuesday
BBC1      Hairy Bikers’ Best of British
BBC1      Masterchef: The Professionals (R) (BSL)
BBC2      Junior Bake Off (R)
BBC2      Rick Stein’s Christmas Special (R)
BBC2      Nigella’s Christmas Kitchen (R)
BBC2      The Hairy Bikers’ Christmas Party
ITV1       Best Dish: The Chefs
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Jamie’s Christmas With Bells On
Ch 5       Meals in Moments (R)

Wednesday
BBC1      Hairy Bikers’ Best of British
BBC1      Nigel Slater’s Simple Christmas
BBC1      Masterchef: The Professionals (R) (BSL)
BBC1      The Hairy Bikers’ Christmas Party (R) (BSL)
BBC2      Junior Bake Off (R)
BBC2      The Hairy Bikers’ Christmas Party (R)
BBC2      Nigella’s Christmas Kitchen (R)
BBC2      Rick Stein’s Spanish Christmas
ITV1       Best Dish: The Chefs
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 5       Meals in Moments (R)

Thursday
BBC1      Hairy Bikers’ Best of British
BBC1      Nigel Slater’s Simple Christmas (R) (BSL)
BBC1      Rick Stein’s Spanish Christmas (R) (BSL)
BBC2      Nigella’s Christmas Kitchen (R)
BBC2      Rick Stein’s Spanish Christmas (R)
BBC2      Junior Bake Off (R)
ITV1       Best Dish: The Chefs
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 5       Meals in Moments (R)

Friday
BBC1      Hairy Bikers’ Best of British
BBC2      Junior Bake Off (R)
BBC2      Raymond Blanc’s Christmas Feast (R)
ITV1       Best Dish: The Chefs
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me (R)
Ch 4       Gordon’s Christmas Cookalong – Get Ready
Ch 4       Come Dine With Me: Comedians Christmas Special



57 slots in the schedule in one week, with the BBC having 32 of them.  Channel 5 has a lowly five entries late at night, as really cooking cannot compete with casino/gambling airtime, shit films, or CSI.  Fifty-fucking-seven in one week, swamping us with shit - worse than programmes on property or antiques!  The irony is that so few people actually bother to cook anything other than what they have done for ever and a day.  We generally stick to producing the same sort of things, using the same ingredients and have to keep an eye on time - and money.  Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall was last week pissing about at River Cottage serving a 'festive' [another cunt-of-a-word that I hate] menu with "the team helping him to prepare wild boar, muntjack deer and greylag geese".  What the fuck?  Get real, Hugh!  First, we don't have teams of people helping us; second, you're a fucking pig (pun intended) and a bore (second pun also intended) and that's far too much food; third, we cannot afford to eat that well; fourth, even if I could justify spending a bit more, those ingredients for a banquet are not readily available at the local Co-operative (Shit With Food) store.

Food, Food, Food - we're obsessed, and as a nation, fucking fat.  The nation sits on the sofa stuffing crisps and chips and ready meals, downing ketchup and dough at an alarming rate, watching cookery programmes while the kids are on the computers above them, tapping away and becoming obese.

We are fucked in the UK.

...

20.12.11 Season's Greetings?

Season's Greetings is the most annoying phrase going.  Anyone uttering this, or writing it in a card is not wishing anyone a 'Happy Winter' or 'Happy Spring', so where the fuck does the 'Season' come in?  We are fast approaching Christmas.  So, anyone wanting to dole out a bit of goodwill ought to be wishing the receiver a happy or merry or joyful CHRISTMAS.  Printed cards are partly to blame, as the makers try to adopt a neutral position, and sit on the fence.  They would be better off creating cards with the inside being blank.  Hang on, that's already been thought of, so in effect, there's no logical reason then for card makers to try and adopt a generalist approach that's actually flawed.

No one uses "Season's Greetings" at Easter.  Just as well, because Easter is not a fucking season either, but logically, it has as much right to benefit from a misused phrase as Christmas does.  Some (twats) will argue that "it's the holiday period" or the "season of goodwill".  Well, sorry, few people get a holiday now, often not even Boxing Day off.  If they do have time off work, they've used their holiday allowance.  As for goodwill, that's a bit thin on the ground.  People like to think there's goodwill floating around, or even on the ground in a thick layer, but no, it's very thin on the ground.  Also, the idea suggests that for 50 weeks of the year, there isn't any goodwill at all, as people are 'saving up' so it can be used at Christmas.

Some will say "Ah, but I'm counting New Year's Eve and New Year's Day as well, so that's why "Season" is appropriate.  All I can say is 'Fuck Off - that still makes no sense'.  I blame the makers of television programmes, and the Americans, for the introduction of "Season" to our vocabularies and the simultaneous ousting of the word "Series".  TV programmes used to be made in groups, and aired as a "Series".  The number of series (and the number of programmes in each series) would vary enormously depending on the success of the things and the budgets of the producers.  No series was ever aligned to any specific season.  The only relevance to time of the year would perhaps come if a programme was made as a "Christmas Special" - but that's fuck all to do with a season.  So,  we have come to suffer box-sets on sale as not Series One, or Series Two, but "Season One" etc.

I urge you to wish people, if you're so inclined, a Merry Christmas, and/or a Happy New Year, but do not bring seasons into the equation.  Depending on where you are in the world, there would also be a rather significant variation in the actual season.

Perhaps I could wish you a Happy Winter Solstice (for Thursday) if you live in the Northern Hemisphere, and a Happy Summer Solstice if you are in the Southern Hemisphere.

[PS: I haven't even started on the term "Festive" - I do not want anyone to give me "Festive Greetings"]
...

19.12.11 Superfluous and Stupid

Everywhere you look there's a useless bit of information volunteered, when there's either no point in it being mentioned, or it's mind-numbingly low level detail.  Here are just a few random examples:

TV Listings

8.00 MasterChef: The Professionals (24/24) The three finalists face their last challenge as they prepare a three-course menu for Gregg Wallace and Michel Roux Jr.  The judges assess the hopefuls' efforts and decide who is the winner of the 2011 competition.

Let's just check the content here.  "The three finalists face their last challenge" - well, if they're in the final, then I'd fucking hope there's not a further stage to the fiasco!  As for the comments about what the judges do, well fuck me - I'd never have guessed that a judge in a cooking competition will, in the final, assess the efforts and then decide who the winner is.  Cuntin' radical, this programme!

9.00 Motorway Cops Catch Us If You Can.  Officers pursue a thief at the wheel of a high-performance car who risks a head-on collision as he drives the wrong way down a motorway, and track down a vehicle they suspect has been tampered with to avoid detection.

First of all, how on earth does a shitty cops programme get to be give a title?  "Catch Us If You Can" my arse!  I really needed to be told that the thief risked a head-on collision when he drove the wrong way down a motorway!  I'd always wondered why more people didn't fucking do it, but now I know, and it's quite sensible not to do this, I've discovered.  As for tracking down a vehicle that's been tampered with to avoid detection, the criminal is either useless at tampering, and hasn't done enough to avoid detection, or Bill & Ben will get nowhere when trying to 'detect'.  Generally, this programme is pathetic.

8.30 Live Celebrity Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Christmas Special  Famous faces teaming up to play for their favourite charities, live and against the clock, with half their total winnings going to one lucky viewer at home.  As ever, the celebrities will be hoping for a clear run at the questions but the lifelines are available to them if they get stuck.

Faces (not people) are teaming up, apparently.  They are not dead, they're live!  The last sentence is the most pointless, generic load of shite I could imagine being written, stating the cuntin' obvious.  Also, the blurb is misleading; it suggest that if 'Mr Twat-from-a-soap' wins £50,000, half of it will be handed over to a viewer!

8.00 Kevin's Grand Design (2/2) Kevin McCloud and his partners start team-building exercises to boost community spirit, but there is trouble when the builders fall behind schedule.

Which part of "the builders fall behind schedule" is worth mentioning, or anything other than completely normal?

Newspaper Story [The Sun]

"A gay man who was beaten, set on fire and left to die trussed to a lamp-post may have been the victim of a homophobic attack."  Unbe-fuckin-lievable deduction, eh?  He was hardly the target for a prank by the best man the night before his wedding, was he!!!

Small Ads

Books Wanted  Military, travel, etc, all subjects. Tel (0191) 4692414

I suggest that the "etc" element of the advert is completely out of place, and has for the first time since the printing press was invented by Gutenberg in 1440, been used to link Military and Travel in some sort of weird 'set' of themes that we should all be taking for granted, probably with a knowing nod.  The fact that "all subjects" is then mentioned means that there was no cuntin' point in stating Military or Travel anyway!!!

Blaydon Carpets Stain Free Carpet from £3.99 per square metre.  Expert Fitting Service

I certainly wouldn't want a carpet with a stain on it anyway!!!  What purpose does the word 'expert' serve, I wonder? 

Cross Bull Mastiff Pups  2 boys and 2 girls left, ready now, chunky pups, wormed. £200

If they are already cross, it's not a good sign for their future temperaments, especially for this breed!

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18.12.11 Twinkle Twinkle

Staff at a 'mother and toddler' group in North Yorkshire have managed to make themselves look fucking stupid, with a move that sees political correctness go mad.  The toddlers have been banned from making a diamond sign (from their thumbs and forefingers) while singing "like a diamond in the sky" because it is similar to "vagina" in sign language.  After all these years, twats in charge of toddlers are now deciding to introduce to the minds of the exceedingly young the concept that they are referring to cunts at an all-too-young age!

Jill Hodges is the assistant director of education, children and young people's services at the City of York Council.  With a title like that, you can already imagine that she is quite prone to behaving like an idiot.  How on earth she can utter "It was a sensible decision taken to prevent deaf children or deaf parents being offended" is beyond me.  Have the deaf never come across this issue before?  No.

The Makaton sign for the female genitalia is an inverted diamond held in front of the crotch.  I rather suggest that the context for toddlers singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star does not often allow them to direct attention towards their crotches - if it does, then there are rather more serious problems to address that Jill Hodges thinks!

The biggest joke in all this is that the Sure Start toddlers group does not even have any deaf children or parents in it.  So, if in the warped minds of the Council the children are in effect singing "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, like a cunt in the sky" then no one knows anyway - although they now have the ludicrous thought planted in their minds!  Diamonds in the Sky are not Cunts in the Crotch.

Jill, if I say you're a real diamond, do you get the message?

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18.12.11 Michael Bublé Slalom

I have been looking at the ITV and BBC schedules for the week, hoping to see something that might be worth watching.  To my great annoyance, I find I am having to endure a slalom course to make sure I avoid Michael Bublé. 

The first obstacle which posed a serious problem was his guest appearance on last week's X-Factor, where he warbled and bubled on about fucking Christmas, to be asked afterwards by Dermot: "Is that from the Christmas album" (regarding the song called "Christmas").  Unfortunately I did not avoid the whole performance, so suffered minor injury.

I notice tonight on ITV is a 90-minute special - "Michael Bublé: Home for Christmas".  That means I will be leaning to the left and waiting for Match of the Day to start, because heaven forbid I should have to suffer again.  The programme details are given as:

"One-off special in which the Canadian crooner entertains an audience, performing classic festive songs from his Christmas album and dueting with the X-Factor's Kelly Rowland."

90 minutes of awfulness, to include a sprinkling of the useless Kelly Rowland.  Still, at least I have spotted it up ahead, and will not be watching.  Mission accomplished.  Turning the pages of the week's TV schedule I come across a weird entry, and suffer deja vu for a few seconds.  On Wednesday at 10.35pm until midnight is the same fucking programme.  Hardly a one-off special then, was it!  Prime time TV monopolised by him - is that therefore mobublised?  I notice the programme is five minutes shorter - perhaps they get rid of the duet with Kelly - she's bound to have failed to impress and gone running back to the States.  This means I will be relying yet again on Match of the Day to keep me sane.  So, thinking my ordeal was over, I scanned the radio section, and disappointed myself through missing Lisa Hannigan on Radio 2 yesterday.  It seems that her appearance on Dermot O'Leary's programme proves that he does in fact have some taste.  I then came across another part of the slalom course - Bublé is monopolising (or mobublising) the airwaves at 8pm on Tuesday – showing that whilst Dermot does have some taste, Radio 2 does not!

What’s he doing on the radio?  Answer one is “Fuck knows!”  Answer two is singing, to include a few seasonal songs from his new album.  The support act is Rebecca Ferguson.  I told you, Kelly will have flounced back to the States by then, so they’ve sensibly lined up the replacement – another link to the X-Factor, as ever.

Does the UK feel it is obliged to allow Michael Bublé to plug this fucking Christmas album?  Note – it’ll have a shorter commercial life than an X-Box game – come January, it will be out-of-date.  For now, I am on the lookout for ‘guest appearances’ that could contaminate my viewing.


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17.12.11 December Questions

The following have been troubling me for a while, and so I thought I'd share the issues on the basis that a problem shared is a problem halved.  Maybe you have answers for the following.

1. When Andre Rieu is playing the violin, why does he pull a face that makes him look demented, scary, crazy and quite possibly orgasmic in a disturbed way?
2. Why does the man on TV read out the lottery numbers?  Deaf people don't hear him; blind people who might want the sound and use the TV like a radio will not be able to see their ticket to check the numbers anyway.  Those without impairments get annoyed by the speed at which the cunt reads the numbers out, as they are ahead of him with their eyes.
3. (a) Is a Greg Wallace mouthful an imperial or a metric measurement?  (b) Is it true that a Greg Wallace mouthful is in fact equivalent to 0.77 litres, or 1.33 pints?
4. Why would it be right in anyone's eyes for a married couple to be happy with their names if the pair are - Colleen and Collin Collins?
5. Why have the makers of greeting cards pursued (obsessively) their desire to make each one just a little bit too thick to benefit from a normal charge for postage?  The 'relief' cards, with the extra tiny raised piece of card, or a bow or some other arty crafty shit are, when inside the envelope, minutely over the 5mm limit, and so demand a Large Letter stamp.
6. What is the "London Look" that Kate Moss keeps fuckin' going on about in adverts?

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17.12.11 Police Interceptors

What a totally useless programme that takes up loads of time on Channel 5.  No one with any sense watches Channel 5, because it's so full of shit.  I therefore concede that my inadvertent watching of it for about an hour was stupid and pointless.  It happened by accident as I was trying unsuccessfully to get to sleep, and there were few options after discarding the ludicrous casino wheels spinning on the screen on two stations.  Why on earth does gambling get so much fucking airtime?

Back to the "Police Interceptors".  I was amazed on a number of levels.  I wondered that the quality of the programme could be so awful - but that endorses the general view of Channel 5, so perhaps I should not have been amazed.  So, after my views were suitably reinforced, I wondered at the content of this programme, where cops in cars piss about in Essex trying to make a difference.  However, all it did was highlight how fucked-up the country is.  Let's look at some examples of the incidents dealt with by the cops, and the results.

A helicopter is not the cheapest means of the police chasing and catching a criminal.  Nor is it cheap for the cops to run fancy cars with all the equipment - cars like Mitsubishi Evolutions and Subaru Imprezas.  A few cars plus the chopper were involved in chasing a car that was being driven suicidally - the desperate criminal had just committed armed robbery, and was driving at high speeds on both sides of the road, narrowly missing other motorists.  Recklessness is not the word to describe it!  He was caught: he got three-and-a-half years.  For armed robbery and nearly causing multiple deaths on the road!  Fucking joke.

How about another - the case of the four twats in a van.  The Interceptors came across a van at a recycling point, late at night.  In the van were four men of foreign origin, who were acting suspiciously.  In the back of the van were about 25 bags of clothes.  The van was parked next to large recycling bins that were for people to deposit bags of clothes for charities.  They were all, of course, locked with high security padlocks.  The men had, in the back of the van, a selection of high security padlocks and a number of picks - a set for opening padlocks.  So, they'd been practising then!  Records showed that some or all of them were out on bail for the offence of stealing - stealing bags of clothing from charity recycling bins!  They could not explain their presence at the site, and were apparently "just resting".  What did the Interceptors do? - remember, this is not just any old police unit - it's the unit that was described by the narrator as one of the most sophisticated in the world.  You're ahead of me . . . . . Yes, they let them go.  The four men were encouraged to put the 25 or so bags that were in the back of the van (back) into the recycling bins, and drive away.  Fucking cunting pissing useless !!!

The Interceptors intercepted a black car being driven by a bloke of about 25.  After pulling him over, and dragging the story out for more than ten minutes of airtime, we all learned that the driver had no licence, no insurance, and had previous convictions for similar offences, as well as a history that showed he'd been inside for 18 months.  His car was seized, and he was arrested.  What was the outcome?  A fine of £100 and six points.  I say again, £100 fine and six points.  Six points on WHAT?  He hasn't got a licence and has been driving around like a complete cunt.  £100 fine?  That's offensive to me.  If you're done for speeding (with insurance and in a taxed car, and you have a valid licence) it's a £60 fine!!!  So, he's saving a fortune on insurance premiums and when he's finally caught, his fine is about a month's premium.  No fucking deterrent - pathetic.  Plus, we're paying cops thousands of pounds to catch people, and then "mildly inconvenience them".  Shoot the cunts in the foot!  Lock them up.  Do something useful.  The system is completely fucked.

There is one more regret - that the Interceptors didn't start the night out on the road in Essex a bit earlier.  If they'd done so, they may have had a chance to remove someone who causes massive offence to the nation and uses up valuable oxygen and space that another creature could benefit from.  Of whom do I speak?  Amy Childs.  She was on before the Interceptors, and I caught the last 5 minutes of the programme - about 5 minutes too much of it.  The cops should have intercepted her and locked her up for 5 years for making a noise; I cannot say speaking, as that requires basic intellect.

I will, in future, avoid blood pressure issues by completely avoiding Channel 5.

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15.12.11 School Heads

There are a few twats in charge of schools.  In any walk of life, there are idiots who give the majority a bad name.  A couple of weeks ago, we had the headmaster who decided (on the coldest day of 2011) to turn off the heating, so that the school was metaphorically "shivering".  Pupils were struggling in classrooms where temperatures were at 1 degree centigrade.  A 'green planet' is a wonderful aspiration, but with China and India and a whole load more countries belching out billions of tonnes of gasses that fuck the environment (with areas of the developed world having had their turn at fucking up the planet) there's not much to be gained by a saving of £137.50 in fuel costs!  So, the headmaster was promoting a green approach but completely misleading his pupils regarding the benefit of their personal discomfort.

Now we have a stupid twat called Gwyneth Alba in Wales (where else with a name like that) deciding to ban the giving/receiving of Christmas cards.  Apparently it's not eco-friendly.  Cards are wasteful and do not belong in her green school, she has decided.  A mother of one pupil claimed that cards had been binned in front of her offspring!  The headmistress is a prize twat and a cunt.  Saying: "Children can exchange cards outside the school gates but not in school" shows she is fucking mad, and deserves to slip on winter ice and suffer an injury that keeps her out of school for as long as possible.

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