I thought I'd blow a hole in the Colgate adverts for ProSensitive, and the cunningly crafted wording used by those who seemingly endorse the product. Professionals in the dental field sit in front of a camera and try to create a matter-of-fact style to relay details about Colgate's goo-in-a-tube, and come across as totally normal and reasonable. After some shit acting, where the dentist becomes my best pal as I lap up the fantastic insight I've been fed on plaque, acid erosion, tartar and sensitivity, I am in a state of awe at the science bit that helped me understand why Colgate is the answer to my dreams. At the end of everything, the voiceover bloke tells me that "Nine out of ten dentists would recommend it." Whoaaaa . . . . . Hold up !!!
"Would" ??? 9/10 would recommend it. That does not mean they do recommend it, not at all. It means, grammatically and so probably in reality as well, that they would recommend it - if they had to? If they were asked? If it was demanded of them? If aliens landed and Bankers became popular again? If they could be arsed? If, if, if . . . . but the point is the advert does not confirm that they actually do recommend fucking anything, just that they would. I would recommend washing one's car. I don't wash mine though. I would recommend breathing in glue. That's right - if someone gave me a million quid in cash, I would recommend people sniff glue. If they are silly enough to take notice and do it, more fool them. Meanwhile, I'd have a million quid. Hmmm . . . . I'd better get some Colgate ProSensitive; I wonder what the dentists get paid?
Before I go, I heard an advert today for Colgate where a stupid female uttered "The bacteria was all gone" without a care in the world, advocating Colgate as the saviour of the planet. Alas, not the saviour of the English Language, though.
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Monday, 26 March 2012
26.3.12 Lotto Loser
On Friday I read the story of Hazel Loveday, who summed up her bad luck by saying "It's been a week from hell" after the success of her colleagues (who will now be ex-colleagues). The trouble with syndicates is that you have to stay in or suffer the consequences if you leave. There's nothing complicated about this; you either pay up and have a chance of winning, or you don't and you fucking don't. Moaning months down the line that you've missed out is tough shit.
Hazel could not afford the £2 per week, so six months ago decided to drop out and someone else took her place. She was not forced out, and I contest that she could not afford it. I suggest that she decided to reset her priorities and use the £2 for something else - she certainly wasn't destitute, she just made a choice. It turned out to be a poor one, but that's only with hindsight. It's easy to moan about missing out on a win, but not so common to see people wanting to contribute retrospectively for losses sustained by others when there's no return on the outlay!
So 12 bus drivers have £3million each, and apparently they haven't yet seen fit to contact her with offers to 'see her right', or send flowers. For six months, she's been saving her £2 weekly outlay, but as soon as the syndicate wins, she wants some sort of benefit - you weren't in it dearie. If they take pity on you, and/or genuinely feel they ought to give you something, lucky you. But featuring in an article in the paper, saying that if she'd won, she'd help out the lads, is possibly going to annoy them a bit.
Perhaps instead of the dozen winners helping her, they might want to help another bus driver, Mr Michael Shephard, who has just been sacked for breaking health and safety rules. What did he do that was so fucking awful? While sat in the terminus, with no passengers on board, he was seen on CCTV eating a grape while waiting to start his shift. Apparently he eats an occasional grape or sips water when he's at the terminus, mainly because his medication (after a heart bypass) leaves him thirsty. I suggest that the people running National Express are cunts, if this is how they treat staff. Their duty of care should mean the driver's needs are met, and a sip of water or a fucking grape is nothing. He was sitting down, the bus was not moving, there were no passengers on board. He's been driving your fucking bus for 5 years, and you decide now to behave like a fascist organisation. The official statement was, "We cannot accept a driver not being in full control of the vehicle." It would be nice if the 12 Lotto winners gave him some dosh and told National Express to fuck off.
...
Hazel could not afford the £2 per week, so six months ago decided to drop out and someone else took her place. She was not forced out, and I contest that she could not afford it. I suggest that she decided to reset her priorities and use the £2 for something else - she certainly wasn't destitute, she just made a choice. It turned out to be a poor one, but that's only with hindsight. It's easy to moan about missing out on a win, but not so common to see people wanting to contribute retrospectively for losses sustained by others when there's no return on the outlay!
So 12 bus drivers have £3million each, and apparently they haven't yet seen fit to contact her with offers to 'see her right', or send flowers. For six months, she's been saving her £2 weekly outlay, but as soon as the syndicate wins, she wants some sort of benefit - you weren't in it dearie. If they take pity on you, and/or genuinely feel they ought to give you something, lucky you. But featuring in an article in the paper, saying that if she'd won, she'd help out the lads, is possibly going to annoy them a bit.
Perhaps instead of the dozen winners helping her, they might want to help another bus driver, Mr Michael Shephard, who has just been sacked for breaking health and safety rules. What did he do that was so fucking awful? While sat in the terminus, with no passengers on board, he was seen on CCTV eating a grape while waiting to start his shift. Apparently he eats an occasional grape or sips water when he's at the terminus, mainly because his medication (after a heart bypass) leaves him thirsty. I suggest that the people running National Express are cunts, if this is how they treat staff. Their duty of care should mean the driver's needs are met, and a sip of water or a fucking grape is nothing. He was sitting down, the bus was not moving, there were no passengers on board. He's been driving your fucking bus for 5 years, and you decide now to behave like a fascist organisation. The official statement was, "We cannot accept a driver not being in full control of the vehicle." It would be nice if the 12 Lotto winners gave him some dosh and told National Express to fuck off.
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26.3.12 Pie and a Pint
Well, what a weird mess we are all in now, debating the merits of taxes on pies and pints, after the government's quite ridiculous 'strategy' to raise some money. I know the UK is skint, and so is having to be careful with money, but it seems rather desperate to target hot pastries and alcohol. Worse, I believe there's a lack of honesty with this approach. A simple admission that this is a purely money-grabbing exercise would be appropriate. I am not a pie-eater, are don't frequent places that serve hot slices and similar items, so I will not really be affected by the introduction of VAT and the resultant 20% rise in prices. Apparently there is inconsistency (well there's a fucking surprise) in the current tax arrangements, and hot pies are takeaways that ought to be taxed. A cold pie is not taxable, but a hot one is, so it seems. I did wonder if this means I can take back my McDonalds chips and get a 20p refund, because they are more often than not a firefly's breath away from being cold. Whatever the merits (or more probably NOT) of taxing hot pastries, the shares have fallen in Greggs in the few days after the budget, wiping off £35million from the value of the company. Well done Mr Chancellor; what are you going to decimate next?
Alcoholic drinks chargeable by the unit? A farce, if the aim is (as alleged) to tackle binge drinking and underage drinking. George Osborne and David Cameron are prize cunts if they for one second think that upping the price of booze in this way is going to tackle the issues. Instead, everyone will be affected by the pricing, if this goes ahead, but the people who want to get drunk will still get drunk. What these government muppets are really saying is that rather than tackle the drink culture and all its consequences, the government strategy is to try and hide behind pricing as the means to sort things out. Useless cunts. Further, once we do go down this route, and have a rate per unit, it will set the scene for regular tax increases. 40p to start will become 42p in due course. Also, breaking it down to a unit price will mean bigger increases. Petrol, once upon a time, would be sold in gallons, and a two pence rise would come along. Now the two pence rise (per litre) adds 9p per gallon! Slippery slope - be warned.
So, instead of locking up drunken louts who fight, puke, and behave appallingly, and then fining them a hefty amount, we will continue to spend a fortune on police and medical input to round up the revellers, at massive taxpayer expense - and we will NOT tackle the issues. If a drunk is taken to hospital, charge him/her, as the mess was self-induced. The National Health Service should not include attention for hopeless drunkenness, period! On to the teenage drinking. Confiscate it. Lock them up. Hose them down. Do something, but DON'T, you cunting shits, charge me more for my drink! I pay income tax, NI, and tax on my alcohol already. I should not have to pay even more. Fucking sort it.
Just a thought, but the taxes on flights are a nice earner for the government, and do cuntin' fuck all to save the planet. The drink tax per unit of alcohol would simply be another way of you raiding my wallet with no benefit whatsoever to anything. Get tough on offenders, wasters, criminals, thugs and antisocial behaviour - don't sigh, and slip me a cuntin' bill !!!
...
Alcoholic drinks chargeable by the unit? A farce, if the aim is (as alleged) to tackle binge drinking and underage drinking. George Osborne and David Cameron are prize cunts if they for one second think that upping the price of booze in this way is going to tackle the issues. Instead, everyone will be affected by the pricing, if this goes ahead, but the people who want to get drunk will still get drunk. What these government muppets are really saying is that rather than tackle the drink culture and all its consequences, the government strategy is to try and hide behind pricing as the means to sort things out. Useless cunts. Further, once we do go down this route, and have a rate per unit, it will set the scene for regular tax increases. 40p to start will become 42p in due course. Also, breaking it down to a unit price will mean bigger increases. Petrol, once upon a time, would be sold in gallons, and a two pence rise would come along. Now the two pence rise (per litre) adds 9p per gallon! Slippery slope - be warned.
So, instead of locking up drunken louts who fight, puke, and behave appallingly, and then fining them a hefty amount, we will continue to spend a fortune on police and medical input to round up the revellers, at massive taxpayer expense - and we will NOT tackle the issues. If a drunk is taken to hospital, charge him/her, as the mess was self-induced. The National Health Service should not include attention for hopeless drunkenness, period! On to the teenage drinking. Confiscate it. Lock them up. Hose them down. Do something, but DON'T, you cunting shits, charge me more for my drink! I pay income tax, NI, and tax on my alcohol already. I should not have to pay even more. Fucking sort it.
Just a thought, but the taxes on flights are a nice earner for the government, and do cuntin' fuck all to save the planet. The drink tax per unit of alcohol would simply be another way of you raiding my wallet with no benefit whatsoever to anything. Get tough on offenders, wasters, criminals, thugs and antisocial behaviour - don't sigh, and slip me a cuntin' bill !!!
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Sunday, 25 March 2012
23.3.12 Aussies Know Best
There was a story in yesterday's paper which exemplifies why the UK is fucked. For such a long time, it's been evident that politicians are useless, en masse. Whatever the colour of their politics, and their party affiliation, 99% are by default members of the UCP. This is the Useless Cunts Party, for those who are unaware. To qualify, one has to be an MP and a useless cunt, and so you'll appreciate why membership is so fucking high. The faction that comprises the USSCP is determined by those MPs to whom the tag 'Self Serving' could be applied, and this means over half of the MPs are by default in that particular collective as well.
A violent rapist has been deported back to the UK. He's got no family here, and hasn't inhabited these shores since 1967. Nevertheless, the 67-year-old has been sent here by the Australian authorities, who have revoked his visa. Australia, I commend you for having national integrity, common sense, and the firm line in what's what. I am in fact envious of a regime that quite simply follows the correct path.
Now let's turn to the pathetic excuse for a parliament that we have here, full of twats and cunts who seem intent on accepting into the country any fucker who has the slightest right to be here, plus every single cunt that most definitely does not have the right to enter or stay. Liberals and wets are all falling over themselves to turn the other cheek, open the national cheque book, jump the fucking housing queue, interpret for every single person who arrives talking any language [common sense excluded, naturally] and display a unique and outrightly perverse sense of duty to be abused by anyone, everyone and everything that comes this way. Fear and stupidity reign supreme in this excuse for a nation.
So, Australia decides Leslie Cunliffe is an undesirable, and that the UK should have him back. I cannot argue with that, and salute the Aussies for this action. The sad, sad truth is that we should be doing the same, but our failing governments (because they are all as fucked as each other on this point) seem unable to conjure up any sensible view that comes close to matching that of the Aussies. No, instead, we are lumbered with crooks, thieves, rapists, cunts, gangs, claimants, fraudsters and scroungers. They arrive on a never-ending conveyor belt, and stay. Further, we pay a fortune to accommodate them. We cannot kick out Qatada, Hamsa, or anyone else for that matter.
This country is so well and truly fucked, it's irretrievable.
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A violent rapist has been deported back to the UK. He's got no family here, and hasn't inhabited these shores since 1967. Nevertheless, the 67-year-old has been sent here by the Australian authorities, who have revoked his visa. Australia, I commend you for having national integrity, common sense, and the firm line in what's what. I am in fact envious of a regime that quite simply follows the correct path.
Now let's turn to the pathetic excuse for a parliament that we have here, full of twats and cunts who seem intent on accepting into the country any fucker who has the slightest right to be here, plus every single cunt that most definitely does not have the right to enter or stay. Liberals and wets are all falling over themselves to turn the other cheek, open the national cheque book, jump the fucking housing queue, interpret for every single person who arrives talking any language [common sense excluded, naturally] and display a unique and outrightly perverse sense of duty to be abused by anyone, everyone and everything that comes this way. Fear and stupidity reign supreme in this excuse for a nation.
So, Australia decides Leslie Cunliffe is an undesirable, and that the UK should have him back. I cannot argue with that, and salute the Aussies for this action. The sad, sad truth is that we should be doing the same, but our failing governments (because they are all as fucked as each other on this point) seem unable to conjure up any sensible view that comes close to matching that of the Aussies. No, instead, we are lumbered with crooks, thieves, rapists, cunts, gangs, claimants, fraudsters and scroungers. They arrive on a never-ending conveyor belt, and stay. Further, we pay a fortune to accommodate them. We cannot kick out Qatada, Hamsa, or anyone else for that matter.
This country is so well and truly fucked, it's irretrievable.
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25.3.12 Celebrity Wipeout (My Arse)
What a piss-take yesterday's 6pm airing was, on BBC1. This edition of the show (which could always and permanently be improved upon through getting rid of Richard Hammond) was the poorest excuse yet for supposed entertainment from celebrities. I was dumbfounded to see appearing before me the most pathetic line-up imaginable.
Zoe Tyler
Apparently a voice coach. Even if she's a good one, how the fuck is that qualification for celebrity status? Never heard of her and glad of it, but all good things come to an end, so now I am hoping not to remember her after this posting.
Charlie Baker
Never heard of him, and hope never to again. Useless all round really. Allegedly a comedian, but said nothing funny, was shit at the course, and had a silly grin most of the time - more than his audience is ever likely to get, I suggest.
Nicola T
Never heard of her; apparently a model (who isn't these days!). She was introduced as "a tabloid favourite". Ha! She flapped her arms in a pointless way, to match everything else about her presence on Wipeout, and in tabloids (allegedly) and when she said to Amanda Byram "I don't really know what I'm doing here" I couldn't have agreed more with her.
Derek Redmond
I perhaps should have heard of him, or remembered him, but neither was the case. He was once upon a time an athlete. Clearly that qualifies him as a 'celebrity' which is bollocks of course, and what's worse than all of this is the fact that he was completely shit at the Wipeout course. Get back to your rocking chair, Derek.
Connie Fisher
At last - someone I'd heard of. She is arguably a celebrity now, and I was (and remain) prepared to concede, or at least give the benefit of any doubt. However, I'm not sure she does a lot in the entertainment world any more (?) and she proved herself to have lost the plot somewhat, displaying strange behaviour. I think she was on something (probably Adelvice).
Tony Mortimer
Again, not a fucking clue had I, but the helpful intro included the strapline "out of E17", and was the only really helpful thing Hammond had said up until then. I say 'helpful' but I could have gladly remained ignorant. I wondered whether the next celebrity would be announced as 'Midge' [no, not Midge Ure, but "out of Mary, Mungo and Midge"].
Ellie Crisell
Apparently she reads out some news on the BBC, but not to me so far. Having never seen her, I doubted her 'celebrity' status immediately. If she reads the news, then she's a fucking newsreader, NOT a celebrity! When she straightened her hair halfway round the course, I realised she was a complete waste of time. Drip.
Laura Hamilton
Introduced as a "daredevil presenter" I vaguely recognised her, and then realised she'd been on Dancing On Ice a year ago (or was it two?). I think that's the problem with some so-called celebrities; they are only known for being on celebrity editions of various programmes, and no one can ever really understand how they got to be classed as one in the first place.
Steven Arnold
This was 'Ashley' from Coronation Street. Yes, I agree, he left well over a year ago, killed off in the tram crash. So, what he's doing hanging around in Argentina and appearing on Wipeout is beyond me. I thought his pathetic appearance on Dancing On Ice was the last I'd see of him. I wondered if he was actually getting an airing an hour early on the BBC, and should instead have been appearing on The Voice!
Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards
He is of course known to us all, and whilst he was our best ever ski-jumper, he was really known for being so lowly in the world rankings - many years ago. The irony was not lost on me when he turned out to be the best contestant by a mile. Fair play to you Eddie.
So there you have it, a rabble that's basically a collection of shitty wanabees, once wases, never wases, could nevereverbes, and fuckin'aints. My own level of endurance (from my sofa) was not high. After seeing the ten contestants complete the obstacle course in the first round, I realised that Eddie (who was a minute and a half quicker than anyone else) should be applauded, and everyone else turned into corned beef. I have no idea if he won in the end, and will not be researching the subject. I would like to see Richard Hammond removed from the programme, and taken to a place where he can be incarcerated forever, a place with sound-proofing so that not even passing seagulls can hear his drivel. That would leave Amanda Byram to present on her own, and improve the programme exponentially.
Total Wipeout, Total Farce, Total Waste of Time.
...
Zoe Tyler
Apparently a voice coach. Even if she's a good one, how the fuck is that qualification for celebrity status? Never heard of her and glad of it, but all good things come to an end, so now I am hoping not to remember her after this posting.
Charlie Baker
Never heard of him, and hope never to again. Useless all round really. Allegedly a comedian, but said nothing funny, was shit at the course, and had a silly grin most of the time - more than his audience is ever likely to get, I suggest.
Nicola T
Never heard of her; apparently a model (who isn't these days!). She was introduced as "a tabloid favourite". Ha! She flapped her arms in a pointless way, to match everything else about her presence on Wipeout, and in tabloids (allegedly) and when she said to Amanda Byram "I don't really know what I'm doing here" I couldn't have agreed more with her.
Derek Redmond
I perhaps should have heard of him, or remembered him, but neither was the case. He was once upon a time an athlete. Clearly that qualifies him as a 'celebrity' which is bollocks of course, and what's worse than all of this is the fact that he was completely shit at the Wipeout course. Get back to your rocking chair, Derek.
Connie Fisher
At last - someone I'd heard of. She is arguably a celebrity now, and I was (and remain) prepared to concede, or at least give the benefit of any doubt. However, I'm not sure she does a lot in the entertainment world any more (?) and she proved herself to have lost the plot somewhat, displaying strange behaviour. I think she was on something (probably Adelvice).
Tony Mortimer
Again, not a fucking clue had I, but the helpful intro included the strapline "out of E17", and was the only really helpful thing Hammond had said up until then. I say 'helpful' but I could have gladly remained ignorant. I wondered whether the next celebrity would be announced as 'Midge' [no, not Midge Ure, but "out of Mary, Mungo and Midge"].
Ellie Crisell
Apparently she reads out some news on the BBC, but not to me so far. Having never seen her, I doubted her 'celebrity' status immediately. If she reads the news, then she's a fucking newsreader, NOT a celebrity! When she straightened her hair halfway round the course, I realised she was a complete waste of time. Drip.
Laura Hamilton
Introduced as a "daredevil presenter" I vaguely recognised her, and then realised she'd been on Dancing On Ice a year ago (or was it two?). I think that's the problem with some so-called celebrities; they are only known for being on celebrity editions of various programmes, and no one can ever really understand how they got to be classed as one in the first place.
Steven Arnold
This was 'Ashley' from Coronation Street. Yes, I agree, he left well over a year ago, killed off in the tram crash. So, what he's doing hanging around in Argentina and appearing on Wipeout is beyond me. I thought his pathetic appearance on Dancing On Ice was the last I'd see of him. I wondered if he was actually getting an airing an hour early on the BBC, and should instead have been appearing on The Voice!
Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards
He is of course known to us all, and whilst he was our best ever ski-jumper, he was really known for being so lowly in the world rankings - many years ago. The irony was not lost on me when he turned out to be the best contestant by a mile. Fair play to you Eddie.
So there you have it, a rabble that's basically a collection of shitty wanabees, once wases, never wases, could nevereverbes, and fuckin'aints. My own level of endurance (from my sofa) was not high. After seeing the ten contestants complete the obstacle course in the first round, I realised that Eddie (who was a minute and a half quicker than anyone else) should be applauded, and everyone else turned into corned beef. I have no idea if he won in the end, and will not be researching the subject. I would like to see Richard Hammond removed from the programme, and taken to a place where he can be incarcerated forever, a place with sound-proofing so that not even passing seagulls can hear his drivel. That would leave Amanda Byram to present on her own, and improve the programme exponentially.
Total Wipeout, Total Farce, Total Waste of Time.
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25.3.12 Cunts In A Car
Yesterday, I pulled out on to the main road, albeit one with a 30mph speed limit. The road was clear, and I moved out, only to find that zooming up towards my bumper was a car which had to have been travelling at 50mph. This is a narrow road, with footpaths either side, and shops in the area. None of that is surprising when one considers the name of the road I pulled into - 'High Street'. The manoeuvre by the driver of the Renault Clio was a decisive deceleration, while I accelerated. So, the first bit of recklessness was this other driver's complete disregard for others and for the speed limit, not just by speeding a little bit but by an awful lot.
I followed the road and waited at the lights, able to see in my mirror that in the car were two blokes. Both were quite clearly undesirables in every possible sense. Pulling away at the lights, I observed via the rear view mirror that they were guzzling from cans, one of which was tossed out of the open window. So, the driver was swigging from a can of something (not sure what) and littering. Anyone who lobs trash out of a car is a cunt. Littering is an offence. They then both fastened their seatbelts! So, both had till then been breaking the law in this regard. Behind me, the driving was erratic, and it was quite clear these goons were 'having a laugh', as they'd no doubt claim. This included speeding to overtake me on a hill, and then having to slow down behind further traffic.
I followed for quarter of a mile, while the driver veered over the centre line, and twice aimed at an oncoming car before pulling back on to the left hand side of the road. Then the driver and his passenger decided to gob out of their respective windows. After some more erratic driving and tailgating, the car sped away, exceeding the limit again.
Now, I am not wishing to seem 'holier than thou', but speeding, littering, dangerous driving and intimidation were all on view as the Renault Clio made progress, driven by two people who I can confidently describe as inconsiderate cunts.
YE52 OAB - in case you're interested, or have the misfortune to encounter the same vehicle/driver.
...
I followed the road and waited at the lights, able to see in my mirror that in the car were two blokes. Both were quite clearly undesirables in every possible sense. Pulling away at the lights, I observed via the rear view mirror that they were guzzling from cans, one of which was tossed out of the open window. So, the driver was swigging from a can of something (not sure what) and littering. Anyone who lobs trash out of a car is a cunt. Littering is an offence. They then both fastened their seatbelts! So, both had till then been breaking the law in this regard. Behind me, the driving was erratic, and it was quite clear these goons were 'having a laugh', as they'd no doubt claim. This included speeding to overtake me on a hill, and then having to slow down behind further traffic.
I followed for quarter of a mile, while the driver veered over the centre line, and twice aimed at an oncoming car before pulling back on to the left hand side of the road. Then the driver and his passenger decided to gob out of their respective windows. After some more erratic driving and tailgating, the car sped away, exceeding the limit again.
Now, I am not wishing to seem 'holier than thou', but speeding, littering, dangerous driving and intimidation were all on view as the Renault Clio made progress, driven by two people who I can confidently describe as inconsiderate cunts.
YE52 OAB - in case you're interested, or have the misfortune to encounter the same vehicle/driver.
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25.3.12 From Chicken to Pi
Chicken
If you live in Kentucky, is it just called 'Fried Chicken'?
Do chickens really know the pecking order?
Shirts
If someone from Prague wears a check shirt, is it a Czech shirt?
New Words & Definitions
R-ohm-ed = resisted walking
Re-volt-ed = rebelled against electrical potential
S-watt-ed = flattened, with power
St-amp-eed = currently on horseback [informally, chargin' horse]
Irish Olympic News
Hopes of a medal have resurfaced in the tarmac competition
Snooker News
Ronnie O'Sullivan has been knocked out of the Afghan Masters, after coming up against pockets of resistance.
Military News
A solder from West London lost an eye and couldn't find his way back home - he was declared "missing in Acton".
E-commerce
eBrew - Is this a website for tea tasters, or an electronic dictionary for the Middle East?
eBeeGeeBees - A site for those easily frightened, or those who find the BeeGees creepy?
eBuyGum - Online ordering of chewing gum, or social networking for northerners?
eQuips - Provides people with all they need to make an appropriate clever remark
Shakespeare Salad
Caesar et one salad
Brutus et tu
Driving Licence
Renewal demands are posted out every ten years, and I received mine recently. Paying £20 for nothing more than an updated photo on the small piece of plastic is a farce, but I suppose in the days of checking shoes at airports, and not being able to use a nail clipper on a flight (even in first class) it's par for the course. What a load of bollocks then, that the system for renewal provided me with two choices. (1) Go to the Post Office and hand over the form plus £20, and a further £4.50 for a single digital picture taken on the spot by a disinterested woman the other side of the counter. (2) Walk out in annoyance because the £4.50 was not mentioned on the form, and being coaxed into the Post Office on false pretences was not a basis to then capitulate and pay £4.50 for a digital snap that costs 5p to print. I chose option '2' of course, and considered that for £5 I could get four passport sized photos from the woman who is 200yds from my house; she uses expensive equipment and makes sure you're happy, before taking a minute to present a holder and four pictures. I'd have three spares then. However, I had already gone through this process a couple of years earlier and so had two photos left over. You'll have worked out now that whilst the DVLA insists on a renewal after ten years and a new photo, it lets you send them what you want. I used a two-year-old-photo that I had 'in stock'. This makes a cuntin' mockery of ID and the whole pissing process!
Coincidence?
Is it a coincidence that a year ago, the cheapest (500g) packet of pasta twists in Morrisons was17p and that the cheapest toothpaste (75ml) was also 17p? Most probably. Is it a coincidence that today, the same pasta twists are on sale for 30p and the toothpaste is also at 30p? Possibly. Is it a coincidence that the cheapest toothpaste at all four main supermarkets a year ago was 17p, and the cheapest pasta 17p or 18p, and that now everything is 30p? I doubt it. Is there a chance that prices are fiddled rather than pasta and toothpaste experiencing a weird annual 76% inflationary force? Of course it's a fucking fix!
Gamble Aware
I saw an advert a couple of weeks ago, touting a new place to lose money, Spinandwin.com. I noticed that there was no "Gambleaware" warning (or is that advisory note?) accompanying this pointless promotion of yet another gambling site. Yet, the preceding advert had been for the Daily Star on a combined approach with the Health Lottery, and this advert included a brief showing of the 'Gambleaware' note. This was an advert suggesting I might like to buy the Daily Star and receive a free National Health Lottery ticket. Apparently, I can buy a newspaper and be warned about the dangers of gambling, even though I've been given a free ticket, but it's not relevant to warn me about logging on to a site that wants to strip me of all my assets, despite never admitting such. What a mad world. By the way, why wasn't there a "Riskaware" warning to accompany the '2 for 1' ticket promotion for Thorpe Park and what could be described as dangerous rides? I maintain that zooming on a ride at a theme park carries mildly more physical risk than reading the Daily Star (mental and psychological risks are obviously more on the newspaper side).
Three Useless Arseholes and a Wimp
Vince Cable, Nick Clegg, Ken Clarke, and Theresa May
Considerable
What the fuck is "considerably more" in terms of calls from mobiles? I feel the answer to this should be made more widely known, and in fact given the prominence of other vital bits of information, such as the value of Ï€ or the Golden Ration [1.61803399 if you're interested]. We know it's often £1.54 to enter a dumb-ass competition where only morons would not know the answer from A,B,C alternatives that are laughable, but we are left in complete darkness about the 'considerable' amount that we'd be hit for should a mobile ever be dusted off and used to enter. I refer to "we" as a means to cover the point, not because I am ever tempted or stupid enough to participate.
...
If you live in Kentucky, is it just called 'Fried Chicken'?
Do chickens really know the pecking order?
Shirts
If someone from Prague wears a check shirt, is it a Czech shirt?
New Words & Definitions
R-ohm-ed = resisted walking
Re-volt-ed = rebelled against electrical potential
S-watt-ed = flattened, with power
St-amp-eed = currently on horseback [informally, chargin' horse]
Irish Olympic News
Hopes of a medal have resurfaced in the tarmac competition
Snooker News
Ronnie O'Sullivan has been knocked out of the Afghan Masters, after coming up against pockets of resistance.
Military News
A solder from West London lost an eye and couldn't find his way back home - he was declared "missing in Acton".
E-commerce
eBrew - Is this a website for tea tasters, or an electronic dictionary for the Middle East?
eBeeGeeBees - A site for those easily frightened, or those who find the BeeGees creepy?
eBuyGum - Online ordering of chewing gum, or social networking for northerners?
eQuips - Provides people with all they need to make an appropriate clever remark
Shakespeare Salad
Caesar et one salad
Brutus et tu
Driving Licence
Renewal demands are posted out every ten years, and I received mine recently. Paying £20 for nothing more than an updated photo on the small piece of plastic is a farce, but I suppose in the days of checking shoes at airports, and not being able to use a nail clipper on a flight (even in first class) it's par for the course. What a load of bollocks then, that the system for renewal provided me with two choices. (1) Go to the Post Office and hand over the form plus £20, and a further £4.50 for a single digital picture taken on the spot by a disinterested woman the other side of the counter. (2) Walk out in annoyance because the £4.50 was not mentioned on the form, and being coaxed into the Post Office on false pretences was not a basis to then capitulate and pay £4.50 for a digital snap that costs 5p to print. I chose option '2' of course, and considered that for £5 I could get four passport sized photos from the woman who is 200yds from my house; she uses expensive equipment and makes sure you're happy, before taking a minute to present a holder and four pictures. I'd have three spares then. However, I had already gone through this process a couple of years earlier and so had two photos left over. You'll have worked out now that whilst the DVLA insists on a renewal after ten years and a new photo, it lets you send them what you want. I used a two-year-old-photo that I had 'in stock'. This makes a cuntin' mockery of ID and the whole pissing process!
Coincidence?
Is it a coincidence that a year ago, the cheapest (500g) packet of pasta twists in Morrisons was17p and that the cheapest toothpaste (75ml) was also 17p? Most probably. Is it a coincidence that today, the same pasta twists are on sale for 30p and the toothpaste is also at 30p? Possibly. Is it a coincidence that the cheapest toothpaste at all four main supermarkets a year ago was 17p, and the cheapest pasta 17p or 18p, and that now everything is 30p? I doubt it. Is there a chance that prices are fiddled rather than pasta and toothpaste experiencing a weird annual 76% inflationary force? Of course it's a fucking fix!
Gamble Aware
I saw an advert a couple of weeks ago, touting a new place to lose money, Spinandwin.com. I noticed that there was no "Gambleaware" warning (or is that advisory note?) accompanying this pointless promotion of yet another gambling site. Yet, the preceding advert had been for the Daily Star on a combined approach with the Health Lottery, and this advert included a brief showing of the 'Gambleaware' note. This was an advert suggesting I might like to buy the Daily Star and receive a free National Health Lottery ticket. Apparently, I can buy a newspaper and be warned about the dangers of gambling, even though I've been given a free ticket, but it's not relevant to warn me about logging on to a site that wants to strip me of all my assets, despite never admitting such. What a mad world. By the way, why wasn't there a "Riskaware" warning to accompany the '2 for 1' ticket promotion for Thorpe Park and what could be described as dangerous rides? I maintain that zooming on a ride at a theme park carries mildly more physical risk than reading the Daily Star (mental and psychological risks are obviously more on the newspaper side).
Three Useless Arseholes and a Wimp
Vince Cable, Nick Clegg, Ken Clarke, and Theresa May
Considerable
What the fuck is "considerably more" in terms of calls from mobiles? I feel the answer to this should be made more widely known, and in fact given the prominence of other vital bits of information, such as the value of Ï€ or the Golden Ration [1.61803399 if you're interested]. We know it's often £1.54 to enter a dumb-ass competition where only morons would not know the answer from A,B,C alternatives that are laughable, but we are left in complete darkness about the 'considerable' amount that we'd be hit for should a mobile ever be dusted off and used to enter. I refer to "we" as a means to cover the point, not because I am ever tempted or stupid enough to participate.
...
Thursday, 22 March 2012
22.3.12 Ten Random Irritations - March
Yellow Button
I keep getting pop-up boxes on my TV. They contain advice that the switchover will mean the loss of TV programmes/reception, unless I make appropriate arrangements ahead of the deadline. This cuntin' message is delivered to me via a new, flat, full fuckin HD digital pissing TV that's hooked up to a new aerial that's got more pissing prongs on it than a hedgehog and is pointing with the accuracy of a laser-guided missile at the fucking new transmitter of digital transmissions - and my set is tuned to DTV not TV. So, how the fuck, with all this in place, is some cunt sending me messages on screen to suggest I might need to sort myself out? To make the message go away, I need to 'Press the Yellow Button'. If I had my way, I'd make the bastard who devised this annoyance go away permanently, using of course the very latest laser guided technology!
QVC
I think the population of the UK has suffered at the hands of shit sales pitches on television. In particular, the QVC bollocks has entered the national psyche. I was queuing at the Cunt-op last week, and was getting frustrated, as usual. The people in front of me were purchasing more than me; I had a newspaper and had to wait for baskets to be emptied and items scanned. I was not amused when a fuck in front decided he'd like to acquire an "electronic lighter". Now, I immediately thought that this was a grandiose term for a 20p bit of plastic that clicks as a flame starts up and signals the start of the "thumb-burning ritual". I then had to watch as Donna patiently relayed details of the equipment to Mr Nick Quitin, who seemed amazed at how wonderful the gadget was. 'Electronic' annoyed me, but not as much as the time then devoted to the sales presentation. It was like a QVC fucking pitch, but without the p&p charge. Anyway, he finally got his hi-tec item and fucked off to burn his thumb. As my paper was scanned, I saw the lighters on display - 95p for a shit lighter. The Cunt-op is a rip-off. The Co-operative: Shit With Food, Worse With Everything Else
Water Companies
We are all told to conserve water, but as individuals and families, we waste small amounts compared with the cunts who run the water companies. Seeing a report regarding the wastage by the top seven, I was amazed at the numbers. There are around 63 million people in the UK, from kids to senior citizens. Let's just imagine for a moment that each person is expected to get up each morning, fill a jerry can up, and tip it away. That's right - nearly five gallons of water for each and every person in this country, every morning. That is what the five largest water companies are doing (on our behalf, so we don't have to do what I just said) every fucking day of every fucking week. Appalling, eh? So, before anyone from a water company lectures me about reboiling a kettle, of sharing bath water, they can fuck off and stop the horrendous wastage, totalling nearly 300 million gallons per day. Drought in the south? A disgraceful status considering the wastage!
Rowan Williams
The Archbishop of Cunterbury is moving on, back to academia it seems, after achieving nothing - in fact, his input was a negative, so well done, Bish! Let's hope the next one in the position is less of a nob.
The BBC
What a fucked up fat-arsed organisation this is. It has little idea of the value of anything, and loves to spend our money on what it sees fit. Why the fuck we need Gary Lineker to introduce the games and chit-chat with Hansen on Match of the Day is beyond me, considering he's paid £2million for doing so (plus travel expenses at £15,000) each year. Any twat can sit in a chair and prompt Hansen. I would much rather he was stunned with a cattle-prodder rather than nudged into action, to moan about a defender's performance on a match we've all just watched. Hansen gets a couple of million as well, and with thicko Shearer and Mark Lawrenson collecting nice wedges, the BBC is coughing up well over £5million a year when guest presenters from the world of football and sports journalism could do it for a fifth of that. What's fucking more annoying is that their raised profiles mean they can make a mint on top of this, via adverts for Walkers Crisps and Morrisons. In a desperate bid to make sure it collects enough dosh, the BBC sent out over the last four years 85 million warning letters to viewers - so-called 'Threatograms'. I know licence fee dodgers need to pay, or we all pay more so that the BBC can squander the money, but £13.5million on postage and a whole load more on paper and postroom input is preposterous. Bastard Bloody Cunts - BBC.
Council Cunts
West Sussex County Council has spent £100,000 on videos in the last five years. These 'masterpieces' have been put on YouTube to help people in various disciplines, and include instruction on how to wash your hands, how to make a phone call and other barmy shit. In case you're a useless cunt, here's a hint, taken from the video on washing hands. "Wet your hands before you apply the soap. Work up a lather and dry with a clean hand towel." Work up a lather? I'm fucking cursing like hell, thank you! I will not relay details on how to make a phone call, as it's so dire. The council boss, Louise Goldsmith, insisted that 100,000 people had watched the films and that "the clips are a good way of keeping residents informed". Bollocks, dearie - anyone viewing this shit on YouTube is doing so for a laugh, not to learn anything, and 'keeping residents informed' is quite simply a demonstration from you to me that you've lost the fucking plot.
Stress
No, I'm not talking about feeling oppressed or swamped, but the pronunciation of certain words. Take 'Finance'. It's fucking FI-nance, or perhaps better shown, F-EYE-nance. I'm am fed up with the fucking fin-ANCE shit. As bad, if not worse, is people's obsession with a twist on DEC-ade, to force upon those listening the absurd de-CADE because they are pompous twats. 'Decayed' is a perfectly useful word with a completely different meaning, and there's absolutely no point in forcing 'Decade' to adopt the same stress. By the way, while I'm on pronunciation, I have a further pet hate - not stress related, but stress-causing. Negotiate is Ne-GO-she-ate. Again, it's affected twats who introduced us some 25 years ago to the curious Ne-GO-see-ate. What fuckin' next? This, by the way is not nego-see-able. Yeah, sounds shit, eh? QED
John Terry
'Irritation' is far too weak a term to describe JT - he's more like a raging rash. To learn that his legal team argued in court that it would be unfair to allow lip-reading evidence because the case against him revolves around the work 'black' is amazing. John - calling Anton Ferdinand a 'fucking black cunt' is not very complimentary, and the fact that you used the word 'black' has something to do with why you are charged with racial abuse. Being caught on camera means your denials are pathetic, and the move by you and your team to block lip-reading evidence means that I have moved from being 99% convinced of your alleged outburst to 100% - or in football speak (again, as per an earlier note) 110%.
Spitting
I saw Carlton Cole come on to the field as a substitute for West Ham against Cardiff, in the 62nd minute. He jogged on to the pitch and after six steps, needed to gob. I'm not sure whether there was a follow-on gesture in the next 28 minutes involving holding closed one nostril and blowing out of the other, but I wouldn't be surprised. Football players are very often disgusting.
Weather Forecasts on TV
This time I will refrain from moaning about the horrendous use of the English language, the appalling revelations that confirm many of the forecasters know fuck all about meteorology, and the horrible delivery they commonly have for the nonsense spouted. No, all that can be regurgitated and analysed in detail at some future point. For now, I just wish the cunts would stop fucking winking at me at the end of their drivel!
...
I keep getting pop-up boxes on my TV. They contain advice that the switchover will mean the loss of TV programmes/reception, unless I make appropriate arrangements ahead of the deadline. This cuntin' message is delivered to me via a new, flat, full fuckin HD digital pissing TV that's hooked up to a new aerial that's got more pissing prongs on it than a hedgehog and is pointing with the accuracy of a laser-guided missile at the fucking new transmitter of digital transmissions - and my set is tuned to DTV not TV. So, how the fuck, with all this in place, is some cunt sending me messages on screen to suggest I might need to sort myself out? To make the message go away, I need to 'Press the Yellow Button'. If I had my way, I'd make the bastard who devised this annoyance go away permanently, using of course the very latest laser guided technology!
QVC
I think the population of the UK has suffered at the hands of shit sales pitches on television. In particular, the QVC bollocks has entered the national psyche. I was queuing at the Cunt-op last week, and was getting frustrated, as usual. The people in front of me were purchasing more than me; I had a newspaper and had to wait for baskets to be emptied and items scanned. I was not amused when a fuck in front decided he'd like to acquire an "electronic lighter". Now, I immediately thought that this was a grandiose term for a 20p bit of plastic that clicks as a flame starts up and signals the start of the "thumb-burning ritual". I then had to watch as Donna patiently relayed details of the equipment to Mr Nick Quitin, who seemed amazed at how wonderful the gadget was. 'Electronic' annoyed me, but not as much as the time then devoted to the sales presentation. It was like a QVC fucking pitch, but without the p&p charge. Anyway, he finally got his hi-tec item and fucked off to burn his thumb. As my paper was scanned, I saw the lighters on display - 95p for a shit lighter. The Cunt-op is a rip-off. The Co-operative: Shit With Food, Worse With Everything Else
Water Companies
We are all told to conserve water, but as individuals and families, we waste small amounts compared with the cunts who run the water companies. Seeing a report regarding the wastage by the top seven, I was amazed at the numbers. There are around 63 million people in the UK, from kids to senior citizens. Let's just imagine for a moment that each person is expected to get up each morning, fill a jerry can up, and tip it away. That's right - nearly five gallons of water for each and every person in this country, every morning. That is what the five largest water companies are doing (on our behalf, so we don't have to do what I just said) every fucking day of every fucking week. Appalling, eh? So, before anyone from a water company lectures me about reboiling a kettle, of sharing bath water, they can fuck off and stop the horrendous wastage, totalling nearly 300 million gallons per day. Drought in the south? A disgraceful status considering the wastage!
Rowan Williams
The Archbishop of Cunterbury is moving on, back to academia it seems, after achieving nothing - in fact, his input was a negative, so well done, Bish! Let's hope the next one in the position is less of a nob.
The BBC
What a fucked up fat-arsed organisation this is. It has little idea of the value of anything, and loves to spend our money on what it sees fit. Why the fuck we need Gary Lineker to introduce the games and chit-chat with Hansen on Match of the Day is beyond me, considering he's paid £2million for doing so (plus travel expenses at £15,000) each year. Any twat can sit in a chair and prompt Hansen. I would much rather he was stunned with a cattle-prodder rather than nudged into action, to moan about a defender's performance on a match we've all just watched. Hansen gets a couple of million as well, and with thicko Shearer and Mark Lawrenson collecting nice wedges, the BBC is coughing up well over £5million a year when guest presenters from the world of football and sports journalism could do it for a fifth of that. What's fucking more annoying is that their raised profiles mean they can make a mint on top of this, via adverts for Walkers Crisps and Morrisons. In a desperate bid to make sure it collects enough dosh, the BBC sent out over the last four years 85 million warning letters to viewers - so-called 'Threatograms'. I know licence fee dodgers need to pay, or we all pay more so that the BBC can squander the money, but £13.5million on postage and a whole load more on paper and postroom input is preposterous. Bastard Bloody Cunts - BBC.
Council Cunts
West Sussex County Council has spent £100,000 on videos in the last five years. These 'masterpieces' have been put on YouTube to help people in various disciplines, and include instruction on how to wash your hands, how to make a phone call and other barmy shit. In case you're a useless cunt, here's a hint, taken from the video on washing hands. "Wet your hands before you apply the soap. Work up a lather and dry with a clean hand towel." Work up a lather? I'm fucking cursing like hell, thank you! I will not relay details on how to make a phone call, as it's so dire. The council boss, Louise Goldsmith, insisted that 100,000 people had watched the films and that "the clips are a good way of keeping residents informed". Bollocks, dearie - anyone viewing this shit on YouTube is doing so for a laugh, not to learn anything, and 'keeping residents informed' is quite simply a demonstration from you to me that you've lost the fucking plot.
Stress
No, I'm not talking about feeling oppressed or swamped, but the pronunciation of certain words. Take 'Finance'. It's fucking FI-nance, or perhaps better shown, F-EYE-nance. I'm am fed up with the fucking fin-ANCE shit. As bad, if not worse, is people's obsession with a twist on DEC-ade, to force upon those listening the absurd de-CADE because they are pompous twats. 'Decayed' is a perfectly useful word with a completely different meaning, and there's absolutely no point in forcing 'Decade' to adopt the same stress. By the way, while I'm on pronunciation, I have a further pet hate - not stress related, but stress-causing. Negotiate is Ne-GO-she-ate. Again, it's affected twats who introduced us some 25 years ago to the curious Ne-GO-see-ate. What fuckin' next? This, by the way is not nego-see-able. Yeah, sounds shit, eh? QED
John Terry
'Irritation' is far too weak a term to describe JT - he's more like a raging rash. To learn that his legal team argued in court that it would be unfair to allow lip-reading evidence because the case against him revolves around the work 'black' is amazing. John - calling Anton Ferdinand a 'fucking black cunt' is not very complimentary, and the fact that you used the word 'black' has something to do with why you are charged with racial abuse. Being caught on camera means your denials are pathetic, and the move by you and your team to block lip-reading evidence means that I have moved from being 99% convinced of your alleged outburst to 100% - or in football speak (again, as per an earlier note) 110%.
Spitting
I saw Carlton Cole come on to the field as a substitute for West Ham against Cardiff, in the 62nd minute. He jogged on to the pitch and after six steps, needed to gob. I'm not sure whether there was a follow-on gesture in the next 28 minutes involving holding closed one nostril and blowing out of the other, but I wouldn't be surprised. Football players are very often disgusting.
Weather Forecasts on TV
This time I will refrain from moaning about the horrendous use of the English language, the appalling revelations that confirm many of the forecasters know fuck all about meteorology, and the horrible delivery they commonly have for the nonsense spouted. No, all that can be regurgitated and analysed in detail at some future point. For now, I just wish the cunts would stop fucking winking at me at the end of their drivel!
...
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
21.3.12 Pulis Piss Take
I have never heard such bollocks! I refer to the reasons cited by Tony Pulis and his solicitor for why he should not be banned. He was caught doing 96mph (not really sensible) in his BMW (deplorable!) when the variable speed limit was 60mph (stupidly low, but that's beside the point). A ban was on the cards because Mr P had totted up 12 points. However, the court was persuaded by arguments that actually bring into question the competence of the fucking court. Pulis not being able to drive was apparently going to be so devastating, and affect things so much that it could mean his team getting relegated!
Now, the first thing to say is that Stoke City getting relegated would reduce the thuggishness (or is that 'thuggery') and physical 'taking the piss' which is demonstrated and administered by Stoke players every week. However, the Premiership's gain [ie. the loss of Stoke] would be the Championship's loss [ie. the gain of Stoke in its line-up]. The comments and suggestions by solicitor, Mr Stephenson, included claims that charities would suffer, as would investors who have contributed £60million to Stoke City FC. "They would suffer if they were relegated as a result" is a statement that is undoubtedly true, but quite unrelated to the actions of a manager who drives a car badly! Linking Tony Pulis's driving fortunes with the fortunes of a football-playing (allegedly) group of blokes is not really on. If I don't buy a raffle ticket at next year's works Christmas party, the standard of food in the cafeteria might drop. I am sure you will think that this equally-absurd proposition has no relevance to anything, and would not be of use to any inquisition, Spanish or otherwise.
To believe that "the people of Stoke would suffer if Mr Pulis lost his licence" is preposterous, and makes Scientology look totally reasonable! Over and above all of this shit about Mr Stephenson trying to help Tony Pulis escape a ban, and the complete absence of anything in mitigation but instead the threat to the community, I am amazed at a couple of other 'obstacles' that would make a ban inappropriate. Apparently, Pulis has claimed that he cannot use a chauffeur for fear the driver would leak details of secret transfer deals that he discussed on his mobile. Oh, I see - Tony not only drives at 96mph, he does so whilst conducting transfer deals via mobile phone. Hands-free or not, that hardly backs up any request for leniency, does it !!!
So, Tony likes driving, and manages to go a bit too quickly, paying less attention to the road than he pays Peter Crouch, and of course operates the phone's buttons whilst stationary (ie. after he has stopped in a lay-by). He quite clearly never speeds unless it's for the good of the community or his charity causes, and manages to conduct secret deals that no one could ever overhear without risk of unauthorised disclosure, all the time keeping his eyes on the road and applying 100% concentration - or "giving 110%" in football-speak. This begs the question "How does the Prime Minister ever get anywhere?" Clearly he has a chauffeur, who might just hear some secret deals. What about the Queen? Does the chap with the whip and funny costume wear ear plugs? I suspect that a chauffeur is more than capable of being discreet, especially if a clause in his or her contract demands confidentiality etc. - that's what every other high profile passenger would demand!
We now have a weird situation where Tony's players accumulate (rather quickly, looking at their records and playing styles) points for yellow cards, and get banned upon gaining a fifth. In the driving world, Tony accumulates points and should be banned, but escapes because otherwise Stoke City FC 'might be relegated'. Pathetic. If I had been allowed to comment from the bench, I would have highlighted that Stoke being relegated was an outlandish suggestion, and nigh on impossible when there are teams around like Wolves, QPR and Bolton all eager to pip Stoke to a relegation position!
Finally, I would like to point out that he was caught speeding on the M42 in November, after Stoke lost 5 - 0 at Bolton. Sorry, Tony, but (1) there's no excuse for losing to Bolton, and (2) you seem more than able to target relegation with a shit performance like that, and well ahead of the speeding offence, so there's clearly NO LINK between speeding and relegation - though there is a link between performance on the pitch and relegation. QED
...
Now, the first thing to say is that Stoke City getting relegated would reduce the thuggishness (or is that 'thuggery') and physical 'taking the piss' which is demonstrated and administered by Stoke players every week. However, the Premiership's gain [ie. the loss of Stoke] would be the Championship's loss [ie. the gain of Stoke in its line-up]. The comments and suggestions by solicitor, Mr Stephenson, included claims that charities would suffer, as would investors who have contributed £60million to Stoke City FC. "They would suffer if they were relegated as a result" is a statement that is undoubtedly true, but quite unrelated to the actions of a manager who drives a car badly! Linking Tony Pulis's driving fortunes with the fortunes of a football-playing (allegedly) group of blokes is not really on. If I don't buy a raffle ticket at next year's works Christmas party, the standard of food in the cafeteria might drop. I am sure you will think that this equally-absurd proposition has no relevance to anything, and would not be of use to any inquisition, Spanish or otherwise.
To believe that "the people of Stoke would suffer if Mr Pulis lost his licence" is preposterous, and makes Scientology look totally reasonable! Over and above all of this shit about Mr Stephenson trying to help Tony Pulis escape a ban, and the complete absence of anything in mitigation but instead the threat to the community, I am amazed at a couple of other 'obstacles' that would make a ban inappropriate. Apparently, Pulis has claimed that he cannot use a chauffeur for fear the driver would leak details of secret transfer deals that he discussed on his mobile. Oh, I see - Tony not only drives at 96mph, he does so whilst conducting transfer deals via mobile phone. Hands-free or not, that hardly backs up any request for leniency, does it !!!
So, Tony likes driving, and manages to go a bit too quickly, paying less attention to the road than he pays Peter Crouch, and of course operates the phone's buttons whilst stationary (ie. after he has stopped in a lay-by). He quite clearly never speeds unless it's for the good of the community or his charity causes, and manages to conduct secret deals that no one could ever overhear without risk of unauthorised disclosure, all the time keeping his eyes on the road and applying 100% concentration - or "giving 110%" in football-speak. This begs the question "How does the Prime Minister ever get anywhere?" Clearly he has a chauffeur, who might just hear some secret deals. What about the Queen? Does the chap with the whip and funny costume wear ear plugs? I suspect that a chauffeur is more than capable of being discreet, especially if a clause in his or her contract demands confidentiality etc. - that's what every other high profile passenger would demand!
We now have a weird situation where Tony's players accumulate (rather quickly, looking at their records and playing styles) points for yellow cards, and get banned upon gaining a fifth. In the driving world, Tony accumulates points and should be banned, but escapes because otherwise Stoke City FC 'might be relegated'. Pathetic. If I had been allowed to comment from the bench, I would have highlighted that Stoke being relegated was an outlandish suggestion, and nigh on impossible when there are teams around like Wolves, QPR and Bolton all eager to pip Stoke to a relegation position!
Finally, I would like to point out that he was caught speeding on the M42 in November, after Stoke lost 5 - 0 at Bolton. Sorry, Tony, but (1) there's no excuse for losing to Bolton, and (2) you seem more than able to target relegation with a shit performance like that, and well ahead of the speeding offence, so there's clearly NO LINK between speeding and relegation - though there is a link between performance on the pitch and relegation. QED
...
Monday, 19 March 2012
19.3.12 Ask Anna @ Ikea
Yesterday, I tried to establish options regarding some shopping at Ikea I'm planning. Quite simply, I was hoping to find out whether I could arrange in advance a hire van, rather than try and sort it out at the store on the actual day. The mild complication came from the fact that the store is the one in Malaga. Still, with a massive British presence in and around Malaga, and in view of the fact that the EU is supposedly one big happy family, I approached the task with a positive attitude. This was, of course, short fucking lived, because dealing with a Swedish company selling in Spain to an Englishman supported by website information in 'IT Speak' was doomed from the start. It should not have been, considering the ease with which internet communication functions in the modern age - but I had not reckoned on two things: (1) The fact that the telephone number for the store was not shown, and (2) The existence of Anna.
I logged on to the Ikea website, selected 'Malaga' and switched the language to the 'English' option. So far so good. I checked out some information, and hire vans are available, but there's no mechanism to book, or reserve. As a result, I had a question, and sought to establish how I could get an answer. An icon suggested that 'Anna' might be able to help, although the functionality of the main link on the same page as the hire van icon was buggered. Then I noticed at the top a further 'Ask Anna' option. The issue for me was that the Q&A was to be conducted in Spanish. I therefore opened a new tab, brought up the Google Translation service, and messed about for a bit, copying and pasting some questions, and translating from the Spanish back to the English to evaluate answers. However, I decided I was not getting far enough (anywhere, actually) and so thought it best to conduct this interchange via an English-speaking Anna. So, via the UK website for Ikea, I proceeded to submit my questions. The details below are exactly what happened.
TMWSC: Is the 'Anna' facility operated in Spain in the same way as it is for the UK?
Anna: Pleased to meet you 'Anna'.
TMWSC: Can vans be hired for the day at the store?
Anna: Excellent. I can provide you with the driving instructions to your local store. What is the name of the store you want to visit? [I rather thought that it was me who should be asking the questions!]
I then had the option of entering another question in the box, or commenting on the response, as the line below the response was:
Was the answer helpful? Yes No
I decided to advise that it wasn't by clicking on the 'No' option, but the next input from Anna was hardly relevant as a way of moving things forward.
Anna: I'm sorry, I don't know which store you mean. I am opening a list of stores; which store will you be visiting? I can provide you with driving instructions to your local store. What is the name of the store you want to visit?
TMWSC: Is this a waste of time?
Anna: I didn't understand.
TMWSC: Are you stupid?
Anna: My on-board systems report that all my systems are working perfectly. [I considered this to be a flawed/biased view, as it's hardly fair unless there's an independent analysis!] What would you like to know about Ikea?
TMWSC: Can I book a hire van in advance, for the Malaga store?
Anna: Currently we only have hire van service available for Ikea Cardiff, Ikea Wembley and Ikea Dublin. [I was instantly miffed, not on account of the missing 'a' between 'hire' and 'van' or the alternative of a missing 's' on the end of 'service', either of which would have made this a proper sentence. No, I was miffed because Anna was more than willing to comment about a fucking store in Ireland but was clearly anti-Spanish]. In all other Ikea stores we offer 2 types of delivery service and the charges differ as follows:
(1) Home delivery applies to those items that
For some strange reason, that was as far as she got with the pointless explanation of something that was irrelevant. I was now reaching a level of frustration that was exceeding that experienced during the assembling of a flat-packed Trojan Horse!
TMWSC: Is the Spanish Anna as thick as you?
Anna: I am Anna, the Online Assistant.
TMWSC: But you don't assist at all!
Anna: I'm sorry, it's possible I may have misinterpreted what it was you said. Please try and ask your question in a different way.
TMWSC: Are you ever of any real assistance?
Anna: I am a 'Bot'; my name is Anna, and my task is to provide you with online help about Ikea. [I was completely at odds with Anna over this message, and had a rather different impression of what her reply could (and should) have been - ie. "I am a Cunt called Anna, whose task is to wind you up and be a useless cuntin' bitch and reveal fuck all about Ikea"
TMWSC: Can you self-destruct?
Anna: Unfortunately, unless it's relevant to Ikea in some way, I can't get involved. [You pompous cunt! You're managing quite well to not get involved in anything to do with Ikea.]
TMWSC: Are you always this successful at being useless?
Anna: Please try and talk to me about Ikea, that's why I am here. [Cunt.]
TMWSC: Can Ikea help with information in advance of me shopping at a store?
Anna: If you would like assistance during your visit to Ikea, please call your local store where one of my helpful co-workers will be able to help you.
Yøu are ä Fücking Cuñt, Annå.
...
I logged on to the Ikea website, selected 'Malaga' and switched the language to the 'English' option. So far so good. I checked out some information, and hire vans are available, but there's no mechanism to book, or reserve. As a result, I had a question, and sought to establish how I could get an answer. An icon suggested that 'Anna' might be able to help, although the functionality of the main link on the same page as the hire van icon was buggered. Then I noticed at the top a further 'Ask Anna' option. The issue for me was that the Q&A was to be conducted in Spanish. I therefore opened a new tab, brought up the Google Translation service, and messed about for a bit, copying and pasting some questions, and translating from the Spanish back to the English to evaluate answers. However, I decided I was not getting far enough (anywhere, actually) and so thought it best to conduct this interchange via an English-speaking Anna. So, via the UK website for Ikea, I proceeded to submit my questions. The details below are exactly what happened.
TMWSC: Is the 'Anna' facility operated in Spain in the same way as it is for the UK?
Anna: Pleased to meet you 'Anna'.
TMWSC: Can vans be hired for the day at the store?
Anna: Excellent. I can provide you with the driving instructions to your local store. What is the name of the store you want to visit? [I rather thought that it was me who should be asking the questions!]
I then had the option of entering another question in the box, or commenting on the response, as the line below the response was:
Was the answer helpful? Yes No
I decided to advise that it wasn't by clicking on the 'No' option, but the next input from Anna was hardly relevant as a way of moving things forward.
Anna: I'm sorry, I don't know which store you mean. I am opening a list of stores; which store will you be visiting? I can provide you with driving instructions to your local store. What is the name of the store you want to visit?
TMWSC: Is this a waste of time?
Anna: I didn't understand.
TMWSC: Are you stupid?
Anna: My on-board systems report that all my systems are working perfectly. [I considered this to be a flawed/biased view, as it's hardly fair unless there's an independent analysis!] What would you like to know about Ikea?
TMWSC: Can I book a hire van in advance, for the Malaga store?
Anna: Currently we only have hire van service available for Ikea Cardiff, Ikea Wembley and Ikea Dublin. [I was instantly miffed, not on account of the missing 'a' between 'hire' and 'van' or the alternative of a missing 's' on the end of 'service', either of which would have made this a proper sentence. No, I was miffed because Anna was more than willing to comment about a fucking store in Ireland but was clearly anti-Spanish]. In all other Ikea stores we offer 2 types of delivery service and the charges differ as follows:
(1) Home delivery applies to those items that
For some strange reason, that was as far as she got with the pointless explanation of something that was irrelevant. I was now reaching a level of frustration that was exceeding that experienced during the assembling of a flat-packed Trojan Horse!
TMWSC: Is the Spanish Anna as thick as you?
Anna: I am Anna, the Online Assistant.
TMWSC: But you don't assist at all!
Anna: I'm sorry, it's possible I may have misinterpreted what it was you said. Please try and ask your question in a different way.
TMWSC: Are you ever of any real assistance?
Anna: I am a 'Bot'; my name is Anna, and my task is to provide you with online help about Ikea. [I was completely at odds with Anna over this message, and had a rather different impression of what her reply could (and should) have been - ie. "I am a Cunt called Anna, whose task is to wind you up and be a useless cuntin' bitch and reveal fuck all about Ikea"
TMWSC: Can you self-destruct?
Anna: Unfortunately, unless it's relevant to Ikea in some way, I can't get involved. [You pompous cunt! You're managing quite well to not get involved in anything to do with Ikea.]
TMWSC: Are you always this successful at being useless?
Anna: Please try and talk to me about Ikea, that's why I am here. [Cunt.]
TMWSC: Can Ikea help with information in advance of me shopping at a store?
Anna: If you would like assistance during your visit to Ikea, please call your local store where one of my helpful co-workers will be able to help you.
Yøu are ä Fücking Cuñt, Annå.
...
Friday, 16 March 2012
16.3.12 Mother's Day Card
Not one to plan ahead by more than just enough, I went to buy a Mother's Day card at 12.30pm today. This did allow enough time for the purchase, the writing and the posting ahead of the last collection at 4.45pm. What I had not counted on was the deplorable selection of cards available to me at the Post Office, fifty yards away. Normally the cards are not at all bad. Today, however, I discovered that Mother's Day is in fact a rather broader affair than one that's strictly limited to mothers.
The thing about Mother's Day is that the recipient for your card should be YOUR mother rather than A MOTHER. Buying a card for someone because they just happen to be a mother is not really appropriate. Mother's Day must surely be an opportunity for any individual to send a card to his or her mother - simple!
The card-makers have fucked about with the concept though, and have confused the fuck out of what should be the simplest of events. The main faux fuckin' pas has been their effort to confuse the issue by muddling the generations. It now seems that it is incumbent on grandchildren to buy cards for grandparents; where's the fucking 'mother' in that? Actually, the card-makers are almost certainly nudging parents to buy a card to send from their offspring to their own mother, and 'double' the greeting. All bollocks!
How did any of this shit affect me? (I hear you mutter). Well, in one respect only, as I had no intention of pissing about with cards from anyone but me and Mrs MWSC to my/our mother. The selection was massively reduced, on account of inappropriate and irrelevant cards on display. The inclusion of other categories of females in the felicitations meant less space for proper cards to mothers. Thus, I looked at the rack, and saw my options were limited; three cards were technically viable.
One was discounted (or should that be 'discarded' ?) because it was "To My Mummy". Now, I have nothing against those who refer to their mum as 'Mummy' but suggest that anyone who is still doing this having acquired the right to vote is too fucking old to be using that term! Not being aged four, I had to ignore this offering (although I have never used the term 'Mummy' at any age).
Another card was a no-go because its tone and delivery of the greeting on the front was rather terse. "Thinking of you, Mother, on Mother's Day" was a shit line on a card with a shit front, and a shit design and colour scheme. I have never referred to my mum as 'Mother' either. I was in search of a simple 'Mum'. I could digress and waffle about how I have in fact got a simple mum, but that wouldn't be fair or appropriate! I looked at option three, and saw a card that said "To Mum from your Son". My temporary delight at seeing the word 'Mum' was made temporary by the restriction imposed by the card-maker, in that the greeting would be from me, and not include Mrs MWSC. There was no option for a similar card that had the caveat "From Your Daughter", I noticed. I decided that scratching out the extra three words was not feasible, and so ended up with no way forward.
The three options took up about 5% of the space. The rest of the rack/display was either empty (about 20%) or filled with other cards. That's right, 75% of the Mother's Day card display was taken up with cards that were not fucking designed for mothers!
There were cards for Nan, Grandma, Grandmother, Granny, Gran (no Nanna - possible sold out) and Wife! Loads of the cunts, littering the display. A grandmother should get a card from her daughter, who should in turn get a card from her own daughter. Why should the last-born have to buy two fucking cards? Heaven forbid there's a Great Grandma out there who expects a triple helping of cards. In this situation, the youngest would buy three, the next up two and the third in the chain a single card; six purchases instead of three! What's with the wife card? I assume the card-makers are hoping that a husband buys a card for his wife, although only if they jointly have a son or daughter - not though if still in the womb, as that would be counting chickens. There were loads of these cards all aimed at encouraging people to buy cards for those who are not actually their mothers. A "Non-Mother's Day" card then.
This whole industry is fucked up now; I blame the Mother Fuckers who make cards! I bought a rather nice card in a completely separate rack that was not specifically linked to Mother's Day, and it was totally suitable, of better quality, more individual, and was appropriate from both Mrs MWSC and me to post. Happy Mother's Day, Mum.
...
The thing about Mother's Day is that the recipient for your card should be YOUR mother rather than A MOTHER. Buying a card for someone because they just happen to be a mother is not really appropriate. Mother's Day must surely be an opportunity for any individual to send a card to his or her mother - simple!
The card-makers have fucked about with the concept though, and have confused the fuck out of what should be the simplest of events. The main faux fuckin' pas has been their effort to confuse the issue by muddling the generations. It now seems that it is incumbent on grandchildren to buy cards for grandparents; where's the fucking 'mother' in that? Actually, the card-makers are almost certainly nudging parents to buy a card to send from their offspring to their own mother, and 'double' the greeting. All bollocks!
How did any of this shit affect me? (I hear you mutter). Well, in one respect only, as I had no intention of pissing about with cards from anyone but me and Mrs MWSC to my/our mother. The selection was massively reduced, on account of inappropriate and irrelevant cards on display. The inclusion of other categories of females in the felicitations meant less space for proper cards to mothers. Thus, I looked at the rack, and saw my options were limited; three cards were technically viable.
One was discounted (or should that be 'discarded' ?) because it was "To My Mummy". Now, I have nothing against those who refer to their mum as 'Mummy' but suggest that anyone who is still doing this having acquired the right to vote is too fucking old to be using that term! Not being aged four, I had to ignore this offering (although I have never used the term 'Mummy' at any age).
Another card was a no-go because its tone and delivery of the greeting on the front was rather terse. "Thinking of you, Mother, on Mother's Day" was a shit line on a card with a shit front, and a shit design and colour scheme. I have never referred to my mum as 'Mother' either. I was in search of a simple 'Mum'. I could digress and waffle about how I have in fact got a simple mum, but that wouldn't be fair or appropriate! I looked at option three, and saw a card that said "To Mum from your Son". My temporary delight at seeing the word 'Mum' was made temporary by the restriction imposed by the card-maker, in that the greeting would be from me, and not include Mrs MWSC. There was no option for a similar card that had the caveat "From Your Daughter", I noticed. I decided that scratching out the extra three words was not feasible, and so ended up with no way forward.
The three options took up about 5% of the space. The rest of the rack/display was either empty (about 20%) or filled with other cards. That's right, 75% of the Mother's Day card display was taken up with cards that were not fucking designed for mothers!
There were cards for Nan, Grandma, Grandmother, Granny, Gran (no Nanna - possible sold out) and Wife! Loads of the cunts, littering the display. A grandmother should get a card from her daughter, who should in turn get a card from her own daughter. Why should the last-born have to buy two fucking cards? Heaven forbid there's a Great Grandma out there who expects a triple helping of cards. In this situation, the youngest would buy three, the next up two and the third in the chain a single card; six purchases instead of three! What's with the wife card? I assume the card-makers are hoping that a husband buys a card for his wife, although only if they jointly have a son or daughter - not though if still in the womb, as that would be counting chickens. There were loads of these cards all aimed at encouraging people to buy cards for those who are not actually their mothers. A "Non-Mother's Day" card then.
This whole industry is fucked up now; I blame the Mother Fuckers who make cards! I bought a rather nice card in a completely separate rack that was not specifically linked to Mother's Day, and it was totally suitable, of better quality, more individual, and was appropriate from both Mrs MWSC and me to post. Happy Mother's Day, Mum.
...
Thursday, 15 March 2012
15.3.12 It Doesn't Fucking Rhyme!
I am severely suffering as a result of the bollocks churned out by the Co-operative. Let's us put to one side the completely outrageous pricing policy that allows customers to be ripped off, while the store tries to claim it is some sort of people's champion by being local and good value. The few offers sprinkled about the place are rather overshadowed by the horrendous charges applied on other items. BOGOF is less attractive when the basic charge for a single item is hiked by nearly 50% before the offer is taken into account. Instead of concentrating on this aspect of the Cunt-op's approach, let's instead look at the terminology, and the pathetic attempt at rhyme.
"Good with food"
As a slogan, it wouldn't be that bad really. However, they have employed a Scotsman to utter these words such that the first and last words rhyme. Now, if this was a slogan for a fucking sawmill, it might work out okay, because "Good with wood" is not half bad! Alas, the Cunt-op does not sell wood, it sells (amongst other things) 'food' - a word that rhymes with mood and rude. This flawed and cuntish pronunciation means we all have to groan at a contrived load of shit.
Two weeks ago, one of the awful, twee adverts appeared before me, and I endured some crap about dishwasher tablets. There was a half-price offer for Finish at the Cunt-op (though of course this was half of 1.4 times the normal price). At the end of the advert, the geezer came out with the "shoulda coulda woulda" shit - but Finish is NOT food! How the fuck can "Good with food" be the conclusion of an advert for fucking Finish?
Other News
a) Double Decker - 60p until a week ago when it went overnight to 69p. A 15% unwarranted increase. Co-operative - Cunts with chocolate
b) Multi-pack Double Deckers - Pack of 4 for £1. The offer has been running for ten days, but there have been NONE in stock at all [but plenty of the 69p individual ones - no cuntin' surprise]. There have however been Flakes available in the multi-packs. Fuck off; if there's an offer on, stock the stuff, you phonies. Co-operative - Conniving Cunts
c) Pasta Watch - Morrisons is selling 500g Pasta Twists at 30p, for anyone interested (after my previous posts under 'Pasta Watch'). We're unlikely to see a return to the 17p, I think.
d) I purchased this week from Morrisons a 'pouch' of coffee, as I was not in need of another jar. On the reverse of the packaging, a strange logo is stamped, which is basically an arrow in a circular format, with the point in a heart shape. This conjures up a 'love recycling' feeling, most probably exactly what was intended. The recyclenow.com site is also included, to promote good practice. Below the design is some further tiny writing:
FOIL LAMINATE
not currently recycled
What a fucking pointless tasteless joke - at least the coffee isn't tasteless. We live in a barmy world.
...
"Good with food"
As a slogan, it wouldn't be that bad really. However, they have employed a Scotsman to utter these words such that the first and last words rhyme. Now, if this was a slogan for a fucking sawmill, it might work out okay, because "Good with wood" is not half bad! Alas, the Cunt-op does not sell wood, it sells (amongst other things) 'food' - a word that rhymes with mood and rude. This flawed and cuntish pronunciation means we all have to groan at a contrived load of shit.
Two weeks ago, one of the awful, twee adverts appeared before me, and I endured some crap about dishwasher tablets. There was a half-price offer for Finish at the Cunt-op (though of course this was half of 1.4 times the normal price). At the end of the advert, the geezer came out with the "shoulda coulda woulda" shit - but Finish is NOT food! How the fuck can "Good with food" be the conclusion of an advert for fucking Finish?
Other News
a) Double Decker - 60p until a week ago when it went overnight to 69p. A 15% unwarranted increase. Co-operative - Cunts with chocolate
b) Multi-pack Double Deckers - Pack of 4 for £1. The offer has been running for ten days, but there have been NONE in stock at all [but plenty of the 69p individual ones - no cuntin' surprise]. There have however been Flakes available in the multi-packs. Fuck off; if there's an offer on, stock the stuff, you phonies. Co-operative - Conniving Cunts
c) Pasta Watch - Morrisons is selling 500g Pasta Twists at 30p, for anyone interested (after my previous posts under 'Pasta Watch'). We're unlikely to see a return to the 17p, I think.
d) I purchased this week from Morrisons a 'pouch' of coffee, as I was not in need of another jar. On the reverse of the packaging, a strange logo is stamped, which is basically an arrow in a circular format, with the point in a heart shape. This conjures up a 'love recycling' feeling, most probably exactly what was intended. The recyclenow.com site is also included, to promote good practice. Below the design is some further tiny writing:
FOIL LAMINATE
not currently recycled
What a fucking pointless tasteless joke - at least the coffee isn't tasteless. We live in a barmy world.
...
15.3.12 Musical Spam & Silly Names
I noticed in yesterday's paper the top twenty singles chart, and the inordinate number of entries which were 'collaborations'. I was about to show my age and refer to 'records' but instead I'll refer to them as 'shit data', for most of it is musical spam.
Of the 'top twenty', TEN of the listings were of the format "Bollocks, featuring Shit". Please note that to my knowledge, there is no band called Bollocks nor is there a solo performer called Shit. But you get the idea. It seems that no one is able to perform without some assistance (or contamination, depending on your musical tastes) from an imported singer. This muddies the waters, because it helps everything seem so similar, throws confusion into the charts, and mixes allegiances. You could accidentally find yourself half liking something, and then realise that there's half of the performance coming from someone you like, and the other half from a twat.
On a slightly different note, I used to think it was only racehorses that had stupid names, but people are more than capable of calling themselves silly things. Is 50 Cent any sort of name to go by? If he were in a list alphabetically created, would he follow the convention that numerals precede letters, of would his entry be as though he were 'Fifty Cent' then? Who knows - who cares! I do think it would be amusing if he revealed his middle name to be 'Per'. 50 Per Cent. No, that's a half-baked idea; ha!
Other annoyances include the Flo Rida and Will.i.am phenomena. Virgin.i.a doesn't create the right impression for Virginia, does it. Would a schizophrenic perhaps be able to adopt Lou.is.i.ana (?) without attracting the response of No.Lou.u.ain't (!) Amii Stewart couldn't be ahead of her time and adopt this approach, because of the extra 'i' messing things up - otherwise am.i.stewart would have worked.
This playing around doesn't quite work in the UK. Flo Rida has slightly more of a recognition factor than, say: Wes T Midlands or for a Welsh performer, Gwen T. To suggest Isla White would be taking things to a silly level altogether, as would Lincoln Shire.
Back to the chart content, and it's a fact that Musical Spam persists. Rihanna is a perfect example of someone whose relentless junk contaminates the world. She is also one who 'features' on other people's mess. Often it's DJs who draft in someone who can (supposedly) sing, or it's people desperate to associate themselves with better or more interesting (or more commercially viable) singers.
Gotye ft Kimbra
Flo Rida ft Sia
Stooshe ft Travie McCoy
DJ Fresh ft Rita Ora [NOT Rita Lin, unfortunately]
Tinchy Stryder ft Pixie Lott
David Guetta ft Sia
David Guetta ft Nicki Minaj
That's seven of the Top Ten
Dappy ft Brian May
Lil Wayne ft Bruno Mars
Alyssa Reid ft Jump Smokers
What a load of cuntin' shite !!!
...
Of the 'top twenty', TEN of the listings were of the format "Bollocks, featuring Shit". Please note that to my knowledge, there is no band called Bollocks nor is there a solo performer called Shit. But you get the idea. It seems that no one is able to perform without some assistance (or contamination, depending on your musical tastes) from an imported singer. This muddies the waters, because it helps everything seem so similar, throws confusion into the charts, and mixes allegiances. You could accidentally find yourself half liking something, and then realise that there's half of the performance coming from someone you like, and the other half from a twat.
On a slightly different note, I used to think it was only racehorses that had stupid names, but people are more than capable of calling themselves silly things. Is 50 Cent any sort of name to go by? If he were in a list alphabetically created, would he follow the convention that numerals precede letters, of would his entry be as though he were 'Fifty Cent' then? Who knows - who cares! I do think it would be amusing if he revealed his middle name to be 'Per'. 50 Per Cent. No, that's a half-baked idea; ha!
Other annoyances include the Flo Rida and Will.i.am phenomena. Virgin.i.a doesn't create the right impression for Virginia, does it. Would a schizophrenic perhaps be able to adopt Lou.is.i.ana (?) without attracting the response of No.Lou.u.ain't (!) Amii Stewart couldn't be ahead of her time and adopt this approach, because of the extra 'i' messing things up - otherwise am.i.stewart would have worked.
This playing around doesn't quite work in the UK. Flo Rida has slightly more of a recognition factor than, say: Wes T Midlands or for a Welsh performer, Gwen T. To suggest Isla White would be taking things to a silly level altogether, as would Lincoln Shire.
Back to the chart content, and it's a fact that Musical Spam persists. Rihanna is a perfect example of someone whose relentless junk contaminates the world. She is also one who 'features' on other people's mess. Often it's DJs who draft in someone who can (supposedly) sing, or it's people desperate to associate themselves with better or more interesting (or more commercially viable) singers.
Gotye ft Kimbra
Flo Rida ft Sia
Stooshe ft Travie McCoy
DJ Fresh ft Rita Ora [NOT Rita Lin, unfortunately]
Tinchy Stryder ft Pixie Lott
David Guetta ft Sia
David Guetta ft Nicki Minaj
That's seven of the Top Ten
Dappy ft Brian May
Lil Wayne ft Bruno Mars
Alyssa Reid ft Jump Smokers
What a load of cuntin' shite !!!
...
Sunday, 11 March 2012
11.3.12 Horrendous News
I read yesterday that Paul Daniels has cancelled part of his UK tour after being rushed back to hospital in agony. Apparently he had his gall bladder removed three weeks ago, but a gall stone was missed. This return makes it his third visit to hospital this year, because he managed to slice off two fingers with a chain saw in January. All in all he's had an awful time of it.
Oh yes; the horrendous news is that three cancelled tour dates are being rescheduled!
...
Oh yes; the horrendous news is that three cancelled tour dates are being rescheduled!
...
11.3.12 Dubious Nationalities
I have just watched the 4x400m relay in the World Indoor Championships, and the Great Britain team beat the USA team by three one-hundredths of a second, to win the gold medal. Ordinarily, this would be cause for some celebration. Unfortunately the win is tainted.
The first leg was run by Shana Cox, who is actually American. The fact that she moved to these shores last year and took up her right to compete for the UK through having British-born parents is irrelevant as far as I'm concerned. Sorry, but if you are born in the States, train in the States and live your life in New York, you are not British. However, the rules allowed her to switch. Immediately she did so, a British athlete was relegated, and lost her place in the top four. The incoming Sara Cox thus managed to oust an athlete who'd lived here and trained here all her life.
So, the win of a gold medal is far short of the achievement that the people in charge of British athletics would have us believe. One may well argue that no rules have been broken, and/or that the USA has a massively bigger pot from which to pick a team, but neither holds water, and we are morally corrupt. I should, however, point out that we are not alone. There are hundreds of examples of nations "importing" talent, but this does a complete disservice to all sports - for all sports have their problems in this regard, not just athletics.
The end result of all this is that national league tables for medal winners are flawed, and the integrity of national selection committees is fucked. Mercenary actions are not just endorsed, they're positively encouraged by some countries, usually with promises of status, and of course financial reward. I read a day or two ago that 50 of the 550 members of 'Team GB' are in fact foreign-born individuals, whose dual nationality option gives them a status that has allowed them to choose a course guaranteeing optimum success. As the GB team is (in many areas) rather shit, it's not surprising that incoming participants look quite good.
As I am typing this, Tuilagi has just scored a try for England against France in the Six Nations Rugby. You might be forgiven for thinking that it involves just 6 nationalities, but clearly not. I believe that Mr Tuilagi was born in Samoa, and entered the UK illegally. His appeal to avoid deportation was obviously successful and I rather wonder if it was so because of the promise he might have shown for the national prospects in rugby (?)
For once, I am not ending my comments with "This country is fucked" but instead with one that has a wider catchment.
The whole issue of nationality and international competition is fucked.
...
The first leg was run by Shana Cox, who is actually American. The fact that she moved to these shores last year and took up her right to compete for the UK through having British-born parents is irrelevant as far as I'm concerned. Sorry, but if you are born in the States, train in the States and live your life in New York, you are not British. However, the rules allowed her to switch. Immediately she did so, a British athlete was relegated, and lost her place in the top four. The incoming Sara Cox thus managed to oust an athlete who'd lived here and trained here all her life.
So, the win of a gold medal is far short of the achievement that the people in charge of British athletics would have us believe. One may well argue that no rules have been broken, and/or that the USA has a massively bigger pot from which to pick a team, but neither holds water, and we are morally corrupt. I should, however, point out that we are not alone. There are hundreds of examples of nations "importing" talent, but this does a complete disservice to all sports - for all sports have their problems in this regard, not just athletics.
The end result of all this is that national league tables for medal winners are flawed, and the integrity of national selection committees is fucked. Mercenary actions are not just endorsed, they're positively encouraged by some countries, usually with promises of status, and of course financial reward. I read a day or two ago that 50 of the 550 members of 'Team GB' are in fact foreign-born individuals, whose dual nationality option gives them a status that has allowed them to choose a course guaranteeing optimum success. As the GB team is (in many areas) rather shit, it's not surprising that incoming participants look quite good.
As I am typing this, Tuilagi has just scored a try for England against France in the Six Nations Rugby. You might be forgiven for thinking that it involves just 6 nationalities, but clearly not. I believe that Mr Tuilagi was born in Samoa, and entered the UK illegally. His appeal to avoid deportation was obviously successful and I rather wonder if it was so because of the promise he might have shown for the national prospects in rugby (?)
For once, I am not ending my comments with "This country is fucked" but instead with one that has a wider catchment.
The whole issue of nationality and international competition is fucked.
...
Saturday, 10 March 2012
10.3.12 Ramsay Hypocrisy
About a year ago, Gordon Ramsay appeared on a Channel 4 documentary (called Shark Bait) condemning shark-fishing as "cruel, tragic, barbaric and wasteful". Shortly afterwards, the Daily Mail published photos of Gordon Ramsay shark-fishing some 18 months earlier.
We now have a court case in progress, because Ramsay is claiming the photos were illegally obtained by his father-in-law, with whom he has fallen out. Chris Hutcheson was sacked, and there's clearly major shit between all parties in this family. As far as I'm concerned, the matter of how the photos came to be made public is of lesser importance than what they show. GR may well feel aggrieved that pictures he'd rather not have seen go to print are now in the public domain. They may or may not have been obtained illegally, and his father-in-law may or may not be guilty; I do not give a shit, though. What I do care about is that GR wanted us to think he was a good bloke, and stood for the right things, that he was respectable and honest. In truth, we now know he says one thing and does another, then gets the hump when caught out.
You caught sharks, Ramsay, and now you've been caught out! Deal with it, and don't expect people to look at you in the same way anymore because you're clearly not honourable. I suspected this anyway, because I do remember a while back that he was promoting some food with his name and branding, but it turned out to have been the cheapest 'saver' version with his own label stuck over the top!
I'd say you are the shark in all this, Gordon, but that would be an insult to sharks.
...
We now have a court case in progress, because Ramsay is claiming the photos were illegally obtained by his father-in-law, with whom he has fallen out. Chris Hutcheson was sacked, and there's clearly major shit between all parties in this family. As far as I'm concerned, the matter of how the photos came to be made public is of lesser importance than what they show. GR may well feel aggrieved that pictures he'd rather not have seen go to print are now in the public domain. They may or may not have been obtained illegally, and his father-in-law may or may not be guilty; I do not give a shit, though. What I do care about is that GR wanted us to think he was a good bloke, and stood for the right things, that he was respectable and honest. In truth, we now know he says one thing and does another, then gets the hump when caught out.
You caught sharks, Ramsay, and now you've been caught out! Deal with it, and don't expect people to look at you in the same way anymore because you're clearly not honourable. I suspected this anyway, because I do remember a while back that he was promoting some food with his name and branding, but it turned out to have been the cheapest 'saver' version with his own label stuck over the top!
I'd say you are the shark in all this, Gordon, but that would be an insult to sharks.
...
10.3.12 Walliams Overload
Sorry, but before Britain's Got Talent has even started, I'm sick to death of the over-exposure of David Walliams. Yes, we all know you did some swimming. It was all very commendable, and I applauded you (not literally) in the beginning. But after numerous articles in the press, the OTT award at the BAFTAs (???) and the numerous TV references/clips, we have the documentary this week. Then there have been the never-ending chat show references.
Unfortunately you are in my opinion not very funny unless you're doing something with Matt. On your own, you seem to rely massively on sexual innuendos, camp behaviour, and attempts at outrageousness to get attention. For some reason it seems that people feel laughter and applause to be compulsory, and reactions of audiences on TV shows are not actually indicative of the wider views and impressions - I suggest.
To top it all, I see in today's paper that you're to play Michael Barrymore in a four-part TV drama based on his life. So, yet more appallingly fucking awful taste! Barrymore? This is sludge from the canal being dredged up and presented as entertainment. I have no wish to see a weirdo playing a weirdo, no doubt majoring on sexual confusion [no acting there, then]. The country does not need this sort of shit. Nor should anyone be bolstering Barrymore's profile - or bank account via royalties! You have gone from one extreme to another; raising money from a swim, to playing someone of completely dubious attributes who still refuses to answer serious questions about his part in the death of S.L. at his home. On this journey, you have demeaned yourself as well.
I suspect I'll for the first time be trying to avoid BGT.
...
Unfortunately you are in my opinion not very funny unless you're doing something with Matt. On your own, you seem to rely massively on sexual innuendos, camp behaviour, and attempts at outrageousness to get attention. For some reason it seems that people feel laughter and applause to be compulsory, and reactions of audiences on TV shows are not actually indicative of the wider views and impressions - I suggest.
To top it all, I see in today's paper that you're to play Michael Barrymore in a four-part TV drama based on his life. So, yet more appallingly fucking awful taste! Barrymore? This is sludge from the canal being dredged up and presented as entertainment. I have no wish to see a weirdo playing a weirdo, no doubt majoring on sexual confusion [no acting there, then]. The country does not need this sort of shit. Nor should anyone be bolstering Barrymore's profile - or bank account via royalties! You have gone from one extreme to another; raising money from a swim, to playing someone of completely dubious attributes who still refuses to answer serious questions about his part in the death of S.L. at his home. On this journey, you have demeaned yourself as well.
I suspect I'll for the first time be trying to avoid BGT.
...
10.3.12 Whitechapel
So, the second series ended this week, and we can all now relax to consider Whitechapel as worth £60, but not worth building houses on, let alone a hotel. Away from the pairing with the 'Old Kunt Road' on Monopoly, Whitechapel is the police/crime series, which has for two series now delighted in milking creepy locations and associations with past times. It appears that no one committing any crime in Whitechapel does so without first reading up on local history and deciding which old crime to copy.
Once the scriptwriters have come up with yet another far-fetched story, the actors all do their best to create compulsive viewing. The 'apparently' hour-long programme, though, is spoilt. 9.00pm to 10.00pm is the billing, but of course there are advert breaks, and also silly scuttling noises repeatedly played to 'spooky' scenes lasting a few seconds where we're supposed to be scared. So, we have just 44 minutes of actual programme. The advert breaks make a mockery of the drama, and serve to make one completely forget what was happening. Maintaining the suspense is impossible when ITV fucks up your mind and any hope of concentration.
The second advert break in this week's final episode managed to remove all suspense. We cut from the scene of a dead man, strung up by his feet. His body had been drained of blood, which had then been used to paint an entire wall red. - Cut to -
Advert from the sponsors, to plug 'Magnum Mini'
Advert for some hair products by John Frieda
Advert for shit food from Mr Kipling
Nauseating and long advert for Santander
Animated advert for Twinings
Information about the Digital Switchover
Advert for Compare the fucking Market dot cunts
Advert for Landrover
A TV trailer for an episode of 'Kidnap & Ransom'
More from the sponsor, quoting 'Magnum Mini'
Being made to consider this weird range of things fucks up the mind. Then we're back to the drama and suspense! Only on BBC is there a chance that anyone can concentrate on a programme, get proper continuity and not be short-changed. The only exception to this rule is the benefit gained by all of humanity with the Jonathan Ross Show now being on ITV - and losing a few minutes to adverts. Hurrah! (Not that I watch the smarmy git).
...
Once the scriptwriters have come up with yet another far-fetched story, the actors all do their best to create compulsive viewing. The 'apparently' hour-long programme, though, is spoilt. 9.00pm to 10.00pm is the billing, but of course there are advert breaks, and also silly scuttling noises repeatedly played to 'spooky' scenes lasting a few seconds where we're supposed to be scared. So, we have just 44 minutes of actual programme. The advert breaks make a mockery of the drama, and serve to make one completely forget what was happening. Maintaining the suspense is impossible when ITV fucks up your mind and any hope of concentration.
The second advert break in this week's final episode managed to remove all suspense. We cut from the scene of a dead man, strung up by his feet. His body had been drained of blood, which had then been used to paint an entire wall red. - Cut to -
Advert from the sponsors, to plug 'Magnum Mini'
Advert for some hair products by John Frieda
Advert for shit food from Mr Kipling
Nauseating and long advert for Santander
Animated advert for Twinings
Information about the Digital Switchover
Advert for Compare the fucking Market dot cunts
Advert for Landrover
A TV trailer for an episode of 'Kidnap & Ransom'
More from the sponsor, quoting 'Magnum Mini'
Being made to consider this weird range of things fucks up the mind. Then we're back to the drama and suspense! Only on BBC is there a chance that anyone can concentrate on a programme, get proper continuity and not be short-changed. The only exception to this rule is the benefit gained by all of humanity with the Jonathan Ross Show now being on ITV - and losing a few minutes to adverts. Hurrah! (Not that I watch the smarmy git).
...
10.3.12 More Daft Statements
There's no let up in the stupidity of organisations, and people who are in supposedly responsible positions, and the shit they come out with on a range of topics. Celebrities too are far from immune. Here are just a few, from the last week or so.
County Council Policy
Warwickshire Cunty Council has endorsed the banning of coffee from a mums' coffee morning. That's right, the mums are now banned from having a hot drink at the sessions in Stratford-upon-Avon, on health and safety grounds, and must now settle for a beaker of cold water. The council has defended the ban, saying it would "minimise the risk of scalding". The useless cunts would, if they had their way, probably ban us from driving a car to reduce the risk of crashing, and stop us eating to avoid the risk of obesity. Fucking ludicrous.
Care of the Elderly
The 'Commission on Dignity in Care for Older People' is a rather strange (and I suggest pompous-sounding) collective, but in theory I understand there may well be a need for some way of older people's views being projected, and for their needs to be properly considered. I think that the organisation should most definitely stick to doing things that are helpful, and not displaying twattish behaviour. The output from some-or-other spokesperson has been to suggest that "Nurses should be banned from calling elderly patients 'Dear' because it's patronising and ageist." Bollocks; fuck off and moan about living conditions, pension levels, transport, hospital parking, whatever . . . . . but do not waste time moaning about shit like this.
Prostitutes
Sarah Walker, of the English Collective of Prostitutes [what a wonderful phrase and association!] has recently said:
"Jobs in shops and pubs are increasingly scarce and low paid. Increasing numbers of medical students are turning to prostitution to pay rocketing tuition fees and living costs."
Thanks, Sarah, and I'm sure all the members of your collective are thankful that you put forward a glimpse of the blindingly obvious, in your 'professional' capacity. Got to keep the members happy, eh?
Job Title
I read a recent statement which was boring as fuck, but was signed off in a way that was of some amusement; the person's job title. It read: Head of Facilities Management & Engineering Administration Teams & Asset Management. Laugh-a-minute, that job, I'd say!
Tesco Ban
A Tesco store in Kettering has banned pupils from a local school from entering the premises, after numerous issues with bad behaviour and shoplifting. Signs state: "No children from Kettering Science Academy allowed in the store unless with an adult." I perhaps could have guessed that the school concentrates on being good (supposedly) at science, after looking at the quote from an upset mother, whose English is rather below par. "There are a minority of bad pupils but the majority are being victimised." Get yourself off to evening classes, luv; minority and majority are singular nouns, so use "is" and not "are".
Bee Gees
Robin Gibb has come out with a completely nobby statement suggesting his cancer is payback for fame. How stupid is that! "I sometimes wonder if the tragedies my family has suffered are a kind of karmic price for all the fame and fortune the Bee Gees have had." Was losing his marbles an associated affliction? I am wondering if my wind is associated with having not avoided the cracks in the pavement en route to the Co-op earlier today - or, is it from drinking a lot of gassy cider . . . . . hmmmm . . . . . maybe that's more likely than some weird shit about karma.
...
County Council Policy
Warwickshire Cunty Council has endorsed the banning of coffee from a mums' coffee morning. That's right, the mums are now banned from having a hot drink at the sessions in Stratford-upon-Avon, on health and safety grounds, and must now settle for a beaker of cold water. The council has defended the ban, saying it would "minimise the risk of scalding". The useless cunts would, if they had their way, probably ban us from driving a car to reduce the risk of crashing, and stop us eating to avoid the risk of obesity. Fucking ludicrous.
Care of the Elderly
The 'Commission on Dignity in Care for Older People' is a rather strange (and I suggest pompous-sounding) collective, but in theory I understand there may well be a need for some way of older people's views being projected, and for their needs to be properly considered. I think that the organisation should most definitely stick to doing things that are helpful, and not displaying twattish behaviour. The output from some-or-other spokesperson has been to suggest that "Nurses should be banned from calling elderly patients 'Dear' because it's patronising and ageist." Bollocks; fuck off and moan about living conditions, pension levels, transport, hospital parking, whatever . . . . . but do not waste time moaning about shit like this.
Prostitutes
Sarah Walker, of the English Collective of Prostitutes [what a wonderful phrase and association!] has recently said:
"Jobs in shops and pubs are increasingly scarce and low paid. Increasing numbers of medical students are turning to prostitution to pay rocketing tuition fees and living costs."
Thanks, Sarah, and I'm sure all the members of your collective are thankful that you put forward a glimpse of the blindingly obvious, in your 'professional' capacity. Got to keep the members happy, eh?
Job Title
I read a recent statement which was boring as fuck, but was signed off in a way that was of some amusement; the person's job title. It read: Head of Facilities Management & Engineering Administration Teams & Asset Management. Laugh-a-minute, that job, I'd say!
Tesco Ban
A Tesco store in Kettering has banned pupils from a local school from entering the premises, after numerous issues with bad behaviour and shoplifting. Signs state: "No children from Kettering Science Academy allowed in the store unless with an adult." I perhaps could have guessed that the school concentrates on being good (supposedly) at science, after looking at the quote from an upset mother, whose English is rather below par. "There are a minority of bad pupils but the majority are being victimised." Get yourself off to evening classes, luv; minority and majority are singular nouns, so use "is" and not "are".
Bee Gees
Robin Gibb has come out with a completely nobby statement suggesting his cancer is payback for fame. How stupid is that! "I sometimes wonder if the tragedies my family has suffered are a kind of karmic price for all the fame and fortune the Bee Gees have had." Was losing his marbles an associated affliction? I am wondering if my wind is associated with having not avoided the cracks in the pavement en route to the Co-op earlier today - or, is it from drinking a lot of gassy cider . . . . . hmmmm . . . . . maybe that's more likely than some weird shit about karma.
...
Thursday, 8 March 2012
8.3.12 ASBO Fiasco
A shopping area in Cardiff is apparently an attraction for undesirables. The police have made five arrests and issued 18 ASBOs in just six weeks. Unfortunately the yobs persist in antisocial behaviour and petty crime. What's the solution? Unbelievable, the police and the council are considering installing lights of the type used in beauty salons, and these will apparently expose skin blemishes. Yes, that's fuckin' right - the answer is to try and embarrass the youths into avoiding the shopping area in Fairwater, Cardiff.
Some council cunt has come out with the pathetic comment of: "I know when I was that age I would have been put off if blemishes on my face were shown up." You complete fuckin' nob!
This whole approach is shit, as are other options tried elsewhere, including playing Bach and Beethoven outside shops, and fitting high-pitched mosquito alarms which supposedly affect under 25s. These measures, and most certainly the barmy proposed Cardiff solution, are all complete bollocks. In any event, the offenders just move along to play havoc somewhere else.
ASBOs do little to improve things. Arrest the cunts, and stop referring to crime as 'petty', and maybe we can all get serious about sorting thing out. Arrest people who are out of order. Then, get the magistrates to stop pissing about and acting like cuntin' cowards, and dole out a few long custodial sentences, not pathetic ASBOs, community service that won't get done, or a wanking order - sorry, that should read "conditional discharge".
Trying to highlight spots on the face of a cunt in a hood is hardly crime prevention of any note !!!
...
Some council cunt has come out with the pathetic comment of: "I know when I was that age I would have been put off if blemishes on my face were shown up." You complete fuckin' nob!
This whole approach is shit, as are other options tried elsewhere, including playing Bach and Beethoven outside shops, and fitting high-pitched mosquito alarms which supposedly affect under 25s. These measures, and most certainly the barmy proposed Cardiff solution, are all complete bollocks. In any event, the offenders just move along to play havoc somewhere else.
ASBOs do little to improve things. Arrest the cunts, and stop referring to crime as 'petty', and maybe we can all get serious about sorting thing out. Arrest people who are out of order. Then, get the magistrates to stop pissing about and acting like cuntin' cowards, and dole out a few long custodial sentences, not pathetic ASBOs, community service that won't get done, or a wanking order - sorry, that should read "conditional discharge".
Trying to highlight spots on the face of a cunt in a hood is hardly crime prevention of any note !!!
...
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
7.3.12 Santander
Is anyone else in despair at the awful TV advert that's just started being shown, for the '123 Account' from Santander? What a nauseating, repetitive load of shit - the TV equivalent of a rash. Here's the word for word detail.
"You talk, you save, you walk, you save, you play, you weigh, you save, you throw, you save, you mow, you sow, you save, you write, invite, you sit, you hit, you do your bit, you save. You laugh, you save, bath, you save, you cry, you don't know why, you save. You sneeze, you scratch, you snatch, you catch, you chew, you save, boo! you save, you muddle, you cuddle, you woo, you save, you dial, you smile, you peep, you sleep, you save.
Save when you spend, with cashback on your household bills and save when you don't with interest on your balance. The new Santander 123 current account, the current account that gives you cashback and interest in one, for just £2 a month."
It sounds so much better changing 'you save' to 'you cunt' - try it.
...
"You talk, you save, you walk, you save, you play, you weigh, you save, you throw, you save, you mow, you sow, you save, you write, invite, you sit, you hit, you do your bit, you save. You laugh, you save, bath, you save, you cry, you don't know why, you save. You sneeze, you scratch, you snatch, you catch, you chew, you save, boo! you save, you muddle, you cuddle, you woo, you save, you dial, you smile, you peep, you sleep, you save.
Save when you spend, with cashback on your household bills and save when you don't with interest on your balance. The new Santander 123 current account, the current account that gives you cashback and interest in one, for just £2 a month."
It sounds so much better changing 'you save' to 'you cunt' - try it.
...
7.3.12 Walking & Talking
Yesterday I went over the road to the local shop for a paper, a task that should take just a few minutes. Crossing the road was not at all hazardous. In fact, that was the safest part of the procedure. More onerous (aside from stopping myself from decking the oh-so-slow twat who was not so much serving, as playing musical statues) was negotiating people on the move who were holding phones.
The first obstacle to my safe passage to the Cunt-op was a small woman (about the height of a mop) who was walking along the narrow path carrying, in her left hand, a mop and bucket. Her right hand was at her right ear, and she was gassing with little regard for the rest of the world. The 'rest of the world' included me, and my not unusual requirement to walk on the cuntin path without being assaulted. She was perpendicular to the pavement on all planes. In other words, she leaned neither to the left nor to the right, nor did she tilt forward or lean back. Small as she was, she managed quite easily to stand upright. Unfortunately her inanimate friend (the mop) had no such skill or attribute, and instead, it loafed at around 40 degrees to the norm/vertical line. I therefore found myself clobbered by the mop handle as I tried to pass her. She did not break her stride, nor did her mouth relent in its mission to talk for fucking England. I said "Hey?" but to no avail. I suspect it did not go in her left ear at all, so the blocked exit at her right ear was irrelevant. I wondered whether to push her into the path of the next gravel lorry (I think it might have been potash, actually) but decided to avoid a 20-year stretch in jail.
I crossed the road, and approached the Cunt-op, but was nearly floored by a female of about twenty, who was not perpendicular to the pavement. No, she was leaning forward, exiting the shop, and had her head slightly down whilst speaking into her mobile phone. It fell to me to avoid being felled by her. I side-stepped the oncoming article, who didn't break stride or her speech as she came out of the sliding door on to the pavement.
Some minutes later, I left the shop and checked left, then right, then left again: there was nothing coming, so I proceeded with care, looking and listening all the time. This level of attention on my part was rather more than the effort given to crossing the main road!
...
The first obstacle to my safe passage to the Cunt-op was a small woman (about the height of a mop) who was walking along the narrow path carrying, in her left hand, a mop and bucket. Her right hand was at her right ear, and she was gassing with little regard for the rest of the world. The 'rest of the world' included me, and my not unusual requirement to walk on the cuntin path without being assaulted. She was perpendicular to the pavement on all planes. In other words, she leaned neither to the left nor to the right, nor did she tilt forward or lean back. Small as she was, she managed quite easily to stand upright. Unfortunately her inanimate friend (the mop) had no such skill or attribute, and instead, it loafed at around 40 degrees to the norm/vertical line. I therefore found myself clobbered by the mop handle as I tried to pass her. She did not break her stride, nor did her mouth relent in its mission to talk for fucking England. I said "Hey?" but to no avail. I suspect it did not go in her left ear at all, so the blocked exit at her right ear was irrelevant. I wondered whether to push her into the path of the next gravel lorry (I think it might have been potash, actually) but decided to avoid a 20-year stretch in jail.
I crossed the road, and approached the Cunt-op, but was nearly floored by a female of about twenty, who was not perpendicular to the pavement. No, she was leaning forward, exiting the shop, and had her head slightly down whilst speaking into her mobile phone. It fell to me to avoid being felled by her. I side-stepped the oncoming article, who didn't break stride or her speech as she came out of the sliding door on to the pavement.
Some minutes later, I left the shop and checked left, then right, then left again: there was nothing coming, so I proceeded with care, looking and listening all the time. This level of attention on my part was rather more than the effort given to crossing the main road!
...
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
6.3.12 Equality & Human Rights Commission
This joke of an organisation has lost the plot. Its annual review (which is costing taxpayers £150,000) has just been compiled by a cunt who earned £250,000 last year. I did not need to think long before deciding upon this tag for Richard Emmott, who's apparently the intelligence chief at this quango. The review contains ludicrous demands and views.
It is calling for softer treatment of prisoners, and wants them to have the vote. It wants the numbers of asylum-seekers being held in detention to be cut, and is also suggesting that the 14-day period for holding terror suspects without charge should be cut to four days. The Commission's review also criticises curfews, stop-and-search policies and the powers to ban terror groups.
This madness goes further; there are calls for it to be made easier for unions to strike, and it warns against toughening rules on foreign workers. There is criticism for the police and for soldiers, and it even claims that councils are not giving travellers enough land.
Not only is the above almost beyond belief, it comes at a cost to us all. Yes, the Equality & Human Rights Commission costs taxpayers £53million per year. With such hardship being experienced by so many at the moment, do we really need to be spending so much money in this direction? I think not. Do we need to spend £150,000 on an annual review that contains such fucking bollocks? I think not. Does Mr Emmott deserve to be paid £250,000 per year? I think not. Is the who fucking thing a cuntin' waste of time and money, and is the whole thrust of the organisation completely misdirected? I think so. Organisations like this are self serving, unproductive, aloof, and generally cuntish beyond belief.
This country is fucked.
...
It is calling for softer treatment of prisoners, and wants them to have the vote. It wants the numbers of asylum-seekers being held in detention to be cut, and is also suggesting that the 14-day period for holding terror suspects without charge should be cut to four days. The Commission's review also criticises curfews, stop-and-search policies and the powers to ban terror groups.
This madness goes further; there are calls for it to be made easier for unions to strike, and it warns against toughening rules on foreign workers. There is criticism for the police and for soldiers, and it even claims that councils are not giving travellers enough land.
Not only is the above almost beyond belief, it comes at a cost to us all. Yes, the Equality & Human Rights Commission costs taxpayers £53million per year. With such hardship being experienced by so many at the moment, do we really need to be spending so much money in this direction? I think not. Do we need to spend £150,000 on an annual review that contains such fucking bollocks? I think not. Does Mr Emmott deserve to be paid £250,000 per year? I think not. Is the who fucking thing a cuntin' waste of time and money, and is the whole thrust of the organisation completely misdirected? I think so. Organisations like this are self serving, unproductive, aloof, and generally cuntish beyond belief.
This country is fucked.
...
Monday, 5 March 2012
5.3.12 Tesco Jobs Farce
Tesco announces it's creating 20,000 jobs over the next two years. Apparently this is supposed to be welcomed, and we are supposed to applaud Tesco for its endeavours. I for one am struggling with this whole concept, and what benefit there is to the economy at all.
As things stand, people are not going hungry and crawling in the streets, desperate to try and find a Tesco supermarket, or any other type of supermarket. They do not die en route, and utter final words of "If only there were a more local hypermarket". I therefore conclude that whatever money that's available for people to spend will be spent, and the proximity of a Tesco store is not a determining factor in the success of anyone trying to spend money, or avoid death by either hunger or lack of a Technika television. Therefore, the arrival of a new Tesco creates absolutely nothing. Rather, it concentrates and consolidates spending and gives a focal point for people to converge. This is at the expense of other retailers and locations. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction - something once stated by a rather clever bloke.
Twenty thousand jobs then, a mixture of permanent and apprenticeship roles, both full time and part-time. Breaking this down, that probably means about 5,000 proper full-time jobs maximum. The rest is all scraps that give people four hours a day on two or three days of the week, spread all over the fucking shop (not literally) and some mystical apprenticeship stuff. When we come to measure everything, there will have been 75% of all this created. Meanwhile, local shops will have been boarded up, landlords will lose money, jobs will be lost along with any hope of diversity in the retail world. Supply chains will be weakened and other retailers will feel the knock-on effects. Suppliers will either put up prices as outlets close, so that those remaining get a worse deal or are even told it's not worth supplying them anymore. Supermarkets will have become even more dominant, and ironically, they will have buying power that means the suppliers are actually screwed on price even more.
Supermarkets are in fact similar strains of a virus. There are many films in the genre of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers', and it's always a case that a few hangers-on try to evade the plague / vampires / zombies / aliens / disease / Supermarkets.
The country is no netter off for more Tesco stores. There is only one winner - Tesco. We somehow fool ourselves that jobs are being created; they are actually being shuffled. Selling more 'stuff' creates nothing. What a farce.
...
As things stand, people are not going hungry and crawling in the streets, desperate to try and find a Tesco supermarket, or any other type of supermarket. They do not die en route, and utter final words of "If only there were a more local hypermarket". I therefore conclude that whatever money that's available for people to spend will be spent, and the proximity of a Tesco store is not a determining factor in the success of anyone trying to spend money, or avoid death by either hunger or lack of a Technika television. Therefore, the arrival of a new Tesco creates absolutely nothing. Rather, it concentrates and consolidates spending and gives a focal point for people to converge. This is at the expense of other retailers and locations. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction - something once stated by a rather clever bloke.
Twenty thousand jobs then, a mixture of permanent and apprenticeship roles, both full time and part-time. Breaking this down, that probably means about 5,000 proper full-time jobs maximum. The rest is all scraps that give people four hours a day on two or three days of the week, spread all over the fucking shop (not literally) and some mystical apprenticeship stuff. When we come to measure everything, there will have been 75% of all this created. Meanwhile, local shops will have been boarded up, landlords will lose money, jobs will be lost along with any hope of diversity in the retail world. Supply chains will be weakened and other retailers will feel the knock-on effects. Suppliers will either put up prices as outlets close, so that those remaining get a worse deal or are even told it's not worth supplying them anymore. Supermarkets will have become even more dominant, and ironically, they will have buying power that means the suppliers are actually screwed on price even more.
Supermarkets are in fact similar strains of a virus. There are many films in the genre of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers', and it's always a case that a few hangers-on try to evade the plague / vampires / zombies / aliens / disease / Supermarkets.
The country is no netter off for more Tesco stores. There is only one winner - Tesco. We somehow fool ourselves that jobs are being created; they are actually being shuffled. Selling more 'stuff' creates nothing. What a farce.
...
5.3.12 A Diet of Sponges & Soap
A few days ago we were told the story of a dental nurse, who's revealed she has eaten 4000 washing-up sponges and more than 100 bars of soap. Apparently this eating disorder (pica) causes victims to crave objects that are not food. But that's not the funny part - it's her name that makes the whole thing more amusing.
Kerry Trebilcock. I wonder if three dicks are next on the menu (?)
Meanwhile, over at Disney World, a 'healthy eating' exhibit has been shut - because it upset fat children!
[NB: Neither of these stories is made up]
...
Kerry Trebilcock. I wonder if three dicks are next on the menu (?)
Meanwhile, over at Disney World, a 'healthy eating' exhibit has been shut - because it upset fat children!
[NB: Neither of these stories is made up]
...
5.3.12 Before Chris Moyles
I was struck with a bit of misfortune today. The first element was the necessity to get up at 4.45am, and set off on a long journey at 5.15am. Such an early start is fortunately a rarity, so my disposition was not unduly affected, despite only sleeping for four hours. The real misfortune surrounded what was available on the car stereo.
For reasons that I won't go into, I was using a loan car from the garage, and was unfamiliar with the Suzuki Swift's controls relating to the radio. Whatever I did, including step by step manual searching, it seemed to delight in not providing me with any decent reception on any channel - until I found just the one pre-set channel via FM2. The third channel was Radio 1. I had no idea what to expect at 5.30am, but I soon discovered the bollocks available.
Like the backend of a DJ's session at a shit nightclub, I discovered the 'talents' of someone called Reggie, who managed to annoy the fuck out of me. These days, no one seems allowed to have a look at anything, listen to anything or consider anything; no, it is now apparently com-fuckin-pulsory to "check it out". Relentless drivel seems to be available only in voice-over form, that is, Reggie talking shit over background music that is better described as non-musical noise at grating levels of annoyance. I was hit with the usual Radio 1 insistence on the echo-effect for many useless snippets. I was with Elvis on this one ['We're Caught In A Trap'] and had no other options on the listening front. This tripe on Radio 1 was awful, and I was losing the will to live. If this is what the youngsters of today are subjected to, then I have little hope for the future of mankind in the UK. It was less of: "By The Time I Get To Phoenix She'll Be Rising" and much more: "By The Time I Get To Derby, I'll Be Doo-cuntin-lally!"
I wasn't going to Derby, but south on the M1, and estimated that around the Derby area would be when my head exploded. Luckily, at 6.30am, Chris Moyles came on and saved the day. I can honestly say (and will ensure I log this vital piece of information) that pre-6.30am, there is no point in turning on the Radio if there's a chance that Radio 1 is likely to come through the speakers.
Before I finish, a word about the nauseating delivery of news via the Newsbeat segments. At regular intervals, these suck brain cells from your head and dispose of them without you realising. The repetitive shit this morning meant chances to be bombarded with shit from illiterate cunts.
"Many teenagers didn't realise that your boyfriend or girlfriend can abuse you as well as a stranger."
Read this sentence a couple of times - you'll realise that apparently there are multiple meanings from such a badly constructed sentence.
1) The Boyfriend/Girlfriend is able to abuse strangers as well as having a go at you.
2) The Boyfriend/Girlfriend is competent at abuse and can match the performance of a stranger who decides to have a go at you.
The further line from the newscaster was: "Many don't think rape counts as assault." Well, to my mind, rape counts as fucking rape! The word 'assault' is too general, and sounds rather less traumatic and terrible than 'rape'. This wordplay bollocks all shows how cuntin thick people at Radio 1 are.
So, in summary:
a) Wait for Chris Moyles, before tuning to Radio 1 in the mornings.
b) Ignore all news bulletins.
c) Always have a CD with you when travelling.
...
For reasons that I won't go into, I was using a loan car from the garage, and was unfamiliar with the Suzuki Swift's controls relating to the radio. Whatever I did, including step by step manual searching, it seemed to delight in not providing me with any decent reception on any channel - until I found just the one pre-set channel via FM2. The third channel was Radio 1. I had no idea what to expect at 5.30am, but I soon discovered the bollocks available.
Like the backend of a DJ's session at a shit nightclub, I discovered the 'talents' of someone called Reggie, who managed to annoy the fuck out of me. These days, no one seems allowed to have a look at anything, listen to anything or consider anything; no, it is now apparently com-fuckin-pulsory to "check it out". Relentless drivel seems to be available only in voice-over form, that is, Reggie talking shit over background music that is better described as non-musical noise at grating levels of annoyance. I was hit with the usual Radio 1 insistence on the echo-effect for many useless snippets. I was with Elvis on this one ['We're Caught In A Trap'] and had no other options on the listening front. This tripe on Radio 1 was awful, and I was losing the will to live. If this is what the youngsters of today are subjected to, then I have little hope for the future of mankind in the UK. It was less of: "By The Time I Get To Phoenix She'll Be Rising" and much more: "By The Time I Get To Derby, I'll Be Doo-cuntin-lally!"
I wasn't going to Derby, but south on the M1, and estimated that around the Derby area would be when my head exploded. Luckily, at 6.30am, Chris Moyles came on and saved the day. I can honestly say (and will ensure I log this vital piece of information) that pre-6.30am, there is no point in turning on the Radio if there's a chance that Radio 1 is likely to come through the speakers.
Before I finish, a word about the nauseating delivery of news via the Newsbeat segments. At regular intervals, these suck brain cells from your head and dispose of them without you realising. The repetitive shit this morning meant chances to be bombarded with shit from illiterate cunts.
"Many teenagers didn't realise that your boyfriend or girlfriend can abuse you as well as a stranger."
Read this sentence a couple of times - you'll realise that apparently there are multiple meanings from such a badly constructed sentence.
1) The Boyfriend/Girlfriend is able to abuse strangers as well as having a go at you.
2) The Boyfriend/Girlfriend is competent at abuse and can match the performance of a stranger who decides to have a go at you.
The further line from the newscaster was: "Many don't think rape counts as assault." Well, to my mind, rape counts as fucking rape! The word 'assault' is too general, and sounds rather less traumatic and terrible than 'rape'. This wordplay bollocks all shows how cuntin thick people at Radio 1 are.
So, in summary:
a) Wait for Chris Moyles, before tuning to Radio 1 in the mornings.
b) Ignore all news bulletins.
c) Always have a CD with you when travelling.
...
Friday, 2 March 2012
2.3.12 Friday Frustrations
Radio 4 kicked off with some annoying failures regarding use of the Queen's English. Sarah Montague managed the unforgivable fuck-up regarding 'bacteria' which is of course plural. "Higher than normal levels of a bacteria have been found . . . . . "
A few minutes later, when some or other tit gave us some weather information, I heard that because of fog, the Met Office had issued a 'Yellow Alert'. Yellow? Since when has an amber warning turned fucking yellow? Is this an effort to pander to some nobs in an unnecessary department, and turn everything into nice easily recognised forms, after they became obsessed with the Teletubbies? Whoever decided that yellow was the way forward was probably looking "through the arched window".
I was followed by a Mercedes C250, driven by a twat. I knew he was a twat because it was 8.25am, and no one was using headlights or sidelights. The 'no one' actually included this bloke, because he was using fog lights. Now, despite the Yellow Fucking Alert, there was no fuckin' fog in this area. His use of the lights was for posing purposes only, with the multiple-dot style lights piercing my retinas. [NB: I prefer the 'retinae' as the plural, but it seems that fuckers have already got in with their lazy 's'-adding and both forms are acceptable]
Walking into the town centre, I passed a van which was sign-written (as most are) with the company name. However, these days no one owning or running a company is content with that. A logo and a company name are not enough now, because all companies feel obliged to include a strapline, to serve as an explanation of what the company does. This pathetic practice extends to institutions, and even the police. I have blogged on this before, with all the police force variations of unnecessary one-liners, things like "Wessex Police - Worse than Wet Wipes" or "Brothshire Police - Spoon Serving Communities". Today, the offender was Aquajet GB Ltd. It had, alongside this, the phrase "Intelligent Drainage Solutions". Even if I forgive the solution/liquid pun, there is a real problem here, because a drainage solution cannot be intelligent. It may well be the case that the company employs an intelligent person, and that this boffin comes up with good solutions relating to drainage issues, but that's the only possible link to intelligence.
I finished my McDonald's breakfast (my own one actually, not his) and noticed a church with its notice board at the front. I mused that the perfect example of indecision is a church called "All Saints".
I bought a paper from WH Smith, and was encouraged by the woman on patrol to use the self-serve machine. I say on patrol, because she was loitering in front of the main till and counter, next to a group of three scanners for the customers to do their own checkout work. [I got the impression that this woman would not stay at the kitchen sink or cooker for very long.] For a thirty pence transaction, I decided not to demand she provided personal (proper) service, and I scanned the paper. It was a painless process but it rapidly turned into one that fucked me right off! Why? I was asked on-screen if I'd like to add a chocolate item to my purchase; three little pictures popped up, each showing what was available for a further £1. I resent a cunt of a machine forcing me to comply with an upselling suggestion. I already get this cuntin' shite from nobs on the tills at petrol stations, motorway services and even fuckin' Poundland. Now machine are taking over. We'll be getting automated, computer-generated telesales calls next, to home phone numbers, even when the number is ex-directory. I know! It was a dollop of sarcasm because I've been getting that shit for years!
The question for today's competition on This Morning was hardly very challenging: "Who was the male lead in the films Staying Alive and Grease?" How superbly fucking challenging.
A: John Cleese
B: John Hurt
C: John Travolta
Safari Vet School this evening on ITV1 provided proof that vets do not have to have any English skills and that it's perfectly acceptable to be a narrator without having a basic understanding of what's singular and what's plural, and as a result what form the verb should take. Shouldn't the trainees all be sent to ordinary school first? I was hit with:
"The herd are on their way."
"The team are preparing."
"The herd gallop off."
There were so many more that I prayed for one of tranquiliser darts to be shot at me as well as the poor giraffe. Well, that's about it, other than a final moan about the smallprint at the bottom of adverts for fancy phones. It seems that in line with any smallprint and/or 'terms and conditions', the truth is less appealing than the apparent offer. "Sequences shortened" seems to appear briefly, to say basically that what we've just seen as a quick and marvellous facility is, in real life, a pain-in-the-fucking-arse cuntin' ball-ache of a task that will take ages and your fingers will struggle to tap out what's needed without your piece of technology deciding to hang/freeze or provide something for which it has not been asked. A visual lie is the correct term for this approach.
...
A few minutes later, when some or other tit gave us some weather information, I heard that because of fog, the Met Office had issued a 'Yellow Alert'. Yellow? Since when has an amber warning turned fucking yellow? Is this an effort to pander to some nobs in an unnecessary department, and turn everything into nice easily recognised forms, after they became obsessed with the Teletubbies? Whoever decided that yellow was the way forward was probably looking "through the arched window".
I was followed by a Mercedes C250, driven by a twat. I knew he was a twat because it was 8.25am, and no one was using headlights or sidelights. The 'no one' actually included this bloke, because he was using fog lights. Now, despite the Yellow Fucking Alert, there was no fuckin' fog in this area. His use of the lights was for posing purposes only, with the multiple-dot style lights piercing my retinas. [NB: I prefer the 'retinae' as the plural, but it seems that fuckers have already got in with their lazy 's'-adding and both forms are acceptable]
Walking into the town centre, I passed a van which was sign-written (as most are) with the company name. However, these days no one owning or running a company is content with that. A logo and a company name are not enough now, because all companies feel obliged to include a strapline, to serve as an explanation of what the company does. This pathetic practice extends to institutions, and even the police. I have blogged on this before, with all the police force variations of unnecessary one-liners, things like "Wessex Police - Worse than Wet Wipes" or "Brothshire Police - Spoon Serving Communities". Today, the offender was Aquajet GB Ltd. It had, alongside this, the phrase "Intelligent Drainage Solutions". Even if I forgive the solution/liquid pun, there is a real problem here, because a drainage solution cannot be intelligent. It may well be the case that the company employs an intelligent person, and that this boffin comes up with good solutions relating to drainage issues, but that's the only possible link to intelligence.
I finished my McDonald's breakfast (my own one actually, not his) and noticed a church with its notice board at the front. I mused that the perfect example of indecision is a church called "All Saints".
I bought a paper from WH Smith, and was encouraged by the woman on patrol to use the self-serve machine. I say on patrol, because she was loitering in front of the main till and counter, next to a group of three scanners for the customers to do their own checkout work. [I got the impression that this woman would not stay at the kitchen sink or cooker for very long.] For a thirty pence transaction, I decided not to demand she provided personal (proper) service, and I scanned the paper. It was a painless process but it rapidly turned into one that fucked me right off! Why? I was asked on-screen if I'd like to add a chocolate item to my purchase; three little pictures popped up, each showing what was available for a further £1. I resent a cunt of a machine forcing me to comply with an upselling suggestion. I already get this cuntin' shite from nobs on the tills at petrol stations, motorway services and even fuckin' Poundland. Now machine are taking over. We'll be getting automated, computer-generated telesales calls next, to home phone numbers, even when the number is ex-directory. I know! It was a dollop of sarcasm because I've been getting that shit for years!
The question for today's competition on This Morning was hardly very challenging: "Who was the male lead in the films Staying Alive and Grease?" How superbly fucking challenging.
A: John Cleese
B: John Hurt
C: John Travolta
Safari Vet School this evening on ITV1 provided proof that vets do not have to have any English skills and that it's perfectly acceptable to be a narrator without having a basic understanding of what's singular and what's plural, and as a result what form the verb should take. Shouldn't the trainees all be sent to ordinary school first? I was hit with:
"The herd are on their way."
"The team are preparing."
"The herd gallop off."
There were so many more that I prayed for one of tranquiliser darts to be shot at me as well as the poor giraffe. Well, that's about it, other than a final moan about the smallprint at the bottom of adverts for fancy phones. It seems that in line with any smallprint and/or 'terms and conditions', the truth is less appealing than the apparent offer. "Sequences shortened" seems to appear briefly, to say basically that what we've just seen as a quick and marvellous facility is, in real life, a pain-in-the-fucking-arse cuntin' ball-ache of a task that will take ages and your fingers will struggle to tap out what's needed without your piece of technology deciding to hang/freeze or provide something for which it has not been asked. A visual lie is the correct term for this approach.
...
Thursday, 1 March 2012
1.3.12 Football Grammar - February
Scott Parker
"Every one of us understand the situation."
Stuart Pearce
"That is what this team are going through and the individuals within in."
Alan Shearer
"I think them three should be further forward."
"He done that three weeks ago against Stoke."
"He didn't want to go forward or get into the box but that can't be accused of this guy."
"I know there was one or two question marks asked."
Sports Report - MSN
"Fabio Capello had a meeting with the FA today, and tended his resignation."
...
"Every one of us understand the situation."
Stuart Pearce
"That is what this team are going through and the individuals within in."
Alan Shearer
"I think them three should be further forward."
"He done that three weeks ago against Stoke."
"He didn't want to go forward or get into the box but that can't be accused of this guy."
"I know there was one or two question marks asked."
Sports Report - MSN
"Fabio Capello had a meeting with the FA today, and tended his resignation."
...
1.3.12 February Quotes of the Month
1st Place - "I just get behind her and give her everything I've got." [Daniel Whiston, on Dancing On Ice, talking about Jennifer Ellison]
2nd Place - "It looks like a snatch that's gone punk." [TMWSC, ref Kevin Prince-Boateng's haircut]
3rd Place - "He makes bread sound like liquid." [Liam, regarding Harvey's eating of a sandwich in the noisiest way possible]
4th Place - "She's a victim of her own flexibility." [Rosemary Conley, regarding Jennifer Ellison, who cut her head with her own ice skate]
5th Place - "Dead people will be kept on artificial ventilators." [Channel 5 news reporter]
6th Place - "You're not going to grow your beard till it's touching your food, are you?" [Jess, to TMWSC]
7th Place - "He really is a Mr Muscles; I bet he could clear out a few drains." [Tony Gubba, regarding Sebastien on Dancing On Ice]
8th Place - "I know there was one or two question marks asked." [Alan Shearer]
9th Place - "At least he skates better than George drives." [Tony Gubba, referring to Sam who was dressed as George Michael, on Dancing On Ice]
10th Place - "You wouldn't see me wearing camouflage." [TMWSC]
11th Place - "I can sell shit to the arabs." [Quote from a doorman who was boasting about his skills on the Channel 4 programme Bouncers]
12th Place - "He looks like he's just come out of a pond." [TMWSC ref David Moyes looking rather goggle-eyed in an interview on Match of the Day]
13th Place - "Ligging is lazy lurking." [Mrs MWSC, explaining the difference to TMWSC]
14th Place - "Help! Help! Post Office vehicle under attack; please call the police." [Alert sounding from a van parked next to the post office, with the driver sitting in the front seat on a mobile - no one was paying any heed to the very loud alert/alarm at all]
15th Place - "There are just too many post mortems - I think it's overkill." [TMWSC]
16th Place - "It fell to her former ex-husband, Bobby Brown, to . . . . . . " [TV Newscaster]
17th Place - "I can't say his name, but I don't give a shit! Get innnnn." [Jess, by text, ref Jutkiewicz scoring for Boro against Sunderland]
18th Place - "Once the thought's in your head, you're not eating with confidence, are you? [TMWSC, ref the problem with carrying on with the cooking of a chicken that smells a bit suspect, and why it's necessary to chuck it]
19th Place - "Can I interest you in any of our eggs; two for a pound? [Shell petrol station worker trying to upsell on autopilot to TMWSC]
20th Place - "All right then, okay then, right-o then." [Said in one burst by a woman on a mobile phone in the street]
...
2nd Place - "It looks like a snatch that's gone punk." [TMWSC, ref Kevin Prince-Boateng's haircut]
3rd Place - "He makes bread sound like liquid." [Liam, regarding Harvey's eating of a sandwich in the noisiest way possible]
4th Place - "She's a victim of her own flexibility." [Rosemary Conley, regarding Jennifer Ellison, who cut her head with her own ice skate]
5th Place - "Dead people will be kept on artificial ventilators." [Channel 5 news reporter]
6th Place - "You're not going to grow your beard till it's touching your food, are you?" [Jess, to TMWSC]
7th Place - "He really is a Mr Muscles; I bet he could clear out a few drains." [Tony Gubba, regarding Sebastien on Dancing On Ice]
8th Place - "I know there was one or two question marks asked." [Alan Shearer]
9th Place - "At least he skates better than George drives." [Tony Gubba, referring to Sam who was dressed as George Michael, on Dancing On Ice]
10th Place - "You wouldn't see me wearing camouflage." [TMWSC]
11th Place - "I can sell shit to the arabs." [Quote from a doorman who was boasting about his skills on the Channel 4 programme Bouncers]
12th Place - "He looks like he's just come out of a pond." [TMWSC ref David Moyes looking rather goggle-eyed in an interview on Match of the Day]
13th Place - "Ligging is lazy lurking." [Mrs MWSC, explaining the difference to TMWSC]
14th Place - "Help! Help! Post Office vehicle under attack; please call the police." [Alert sounding from a van parked next to the post office, with the driver sitting in the front seat on a mobile - no one was paying any heed to the very loud alert/alarm at all]
15th Place - "There are just too many post mortems - I think it's overkill." [TMWSC]
16th Place - "It fell to her former ex-husband, Bobby Brown, to . . . . . . " [TV Newscaster]
17th Place - "I can't say his name, but I don't give a shit! Get innnnn." [Jess, by text, ref Jutkiewicz scoring for Boro against Sunderland]
18th Place - "Once the thought's in your head, you're not eating with confidence, are you? [TMWSC, ref the problem with carrying on with the cooking of a chicken that smells a bit suspect, and why it's necessary to chuck it]
19th Place - "Can I interest you in any of our eggs; two for a pound? [Shell petrol station worker trying to upsell on autopilot to TMWSC]
20th Place - "All right then, okay then, right-o then." [Said in one burst by a woman on a mobile phone in the street]
...
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