30.5.12 Great British Menu 2012

This programme has been on for ever, it seems.  A run of 45 programmes means nine solid fucking weeks of cooking.  The phrases used over and over again are numerous.  Every single bloody programme used the terms "ground breaking" and "pushing the boundaries" as well as making repeated references to "Olympians". 

The contestants have to prepare food for a banquet in a few weeks, and the whole basis of the competition is for chefs to come up with something innovative - hence the constant questions from any fucker with a working voicebox - "But is it ground breaking enough for our Olympians?" and "Does it push the boundaries, though?"

Ordinarily I'd have saved some quotes for the May edition of "Quote of the Month" but instead, I am recording these details in an individual post, because the programme is so regimented, full of bollocks, and fruitful on the quote front.  The chefs all piss about and use ingredients that cost a fortune, to get marks Mon-Thu, and a chance to be one of the two cooking on Friday for the judges to pick a winner. 

In April I recorded a few quotes, some for grammatical reasons, some for daftness, and they included the following:

"I want you to show us who you are as a human being." - Judge Oliver Peyton
"The combination of ingredients just don't work." - Judge Oliver Peyton
"Are you confident the mix of bold flavours are working" - Guest Chef Judge
"Once I've got it all prepted, I can concentrate on the cooking" - Competitor

There have been more pathetic comments and quotes in the last few weeks, as well as a weird obsession by many chefs for "molecular cooking" which basically means pissing about with chemicals and making food into either a paste, a foam or a liquid for smearing, squirting or juggling with!  All pretentious bollocks, and I am not keen on them making everything into astronaut food and being pleased with themselves for doing so.

"A long time veteran . . . . ."  [stupid narrator]
"Ingredient-led food . . . . ."  [stupid narrator]
"A seasoned professional . . . . ."  [ho ho ho, narrator]
"A ravioli of quail . . . . ."  [pretentious prats]
"Very tailor-made and quite unique."  [I despair]
"It looks aesthetic on the eye."  [Oh really?  You dumb twat of a competitor]
"A professional competition winner."  [stupid narrator]

Is this show ground breaking enough?  No!  Will this be good enough for our Olympians?  Actually, it probably will be, because they are just people, and not Gods.  Some of them do normal things, and eat normal things, so if the ingredients are fresh and they are cooked properly, they'll eat it.  If I were an Olympic athlete, then I'd prefer some normal food cooked normally rather than a pretentious half-portion, which has been mauled for 5 minutes by multiple pairs of hands in a kitchen to try and paint a picture on a plate of Van Fuckin Gogh's face using food that's been turned into coloured paste, gravy for the hair, a carrot for the nose and a single rabbit's kidney for an ear.  [When I say single rabbit's kidney, I mean just one kidney from a rabbit rather than a kidney from a rabbit which has yet to find a partner/mate/spouse]  By the way, "Olympians" is a weird classification and it should be remembered that some of them will be people who shoot pellets and cap guns, arrows, and drugs - so feeding them should be much of a challenge.  Others will sit in a small sailing boat, and a few will compete in other pastimes which are hardly 'sports' let alone 'Olympic Sports'. 

I vote for the deconstructed cod - ie. fish fingers.  Two of them in a V-sign on the plate, on a bed of five onion rings in the shape of the Olympic logo.  Fries with Ketchup on the side.

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30.5.12 Random Comments & Fish

A Lift For England

There was a lift to Englands hopes yesterday of progress in the Euro Championships, after it was announced that Gareth Barry is not fit to participate.  His groin issues mean he will be replaced by Phil Jagielka; to be honest, anyone replacing GB would have a net positive effect.

Shoe

How does it happen that a large black shoe finds its way to the middle of the northbound A19?  Driving along, I was recently puzzled by the shoe over which I drove.  It was a slip-on, probably size 11 or 12, and it had no business being in the middle of the left-hand lane of a duel carriageway.  Surely the owner must be annoyed, and how did he come to lose it?  I fear I'll never know.

Fatties

I am fed up (not as much as the fucking culprits, obviously) of really, really fat people causing so much grief and expense for everyone, through their eating habits and obesity.  In the last week, we've read about two fatties who have required input by an army, to get them into care.  Stories of how 15 people have to work together to get a fat fuck to hospital is not what I want to read about.  Spending hundreds of thousands of pounds ferrying whales around the UK is not quite realistic, whether in an economic climate that's dire, or in times of prosperity.  Quite simply, if you eat yourself to the size of a Ford Escort, then no one should be obliged to escort you anywhere!  "Live and Let Die" was the film and song, and I reckon it was and still is prophetic in its message. 

Griff Rhys Jones

Please, please, BBC, can you stop giving this bloke things to do at our expense!  I cannot be the only person alive bored the fucking death with his efforts to restore building, piss about in a boat, walk along old ramblers' walkways, try to be funny (when he most certainly is NOT) and generally be a 'has been'.  Get it fucking sorted, and let him chew grass in a remote field!

Eurovision

Okay, forget the fact that the mix of countries now allowed to enter this competition means it's impossible for the UK to win it ever again.  I don't give a shit about that, and who do we think we are in terms of believing we're entitled to a better than average chance?  Unfortunately the UK does not form part of a 'group of nations'.  Unlike the Finland / Iceland / Norway / Sweden / Denmark group, we have no countries with strong ties, and as for the countries in the Balkans (which were in recent times ripping each other to shreds) there's no history that would lend itself to those countries having any bias towards the UK.  All of this aside, I have two questions: 1) Why does the UK provide so much funding that it is one of the 'big five' and gets automatic entry to the final?  2) Why did we choose such a shit song?  I would withdraw as gracefully as possible from future events, if it were down to me.  I would, if compelled to maintain a presence in the 'competition', make sure that we didn't come up with a song that suggests 1950s bollocks.  Albania's mad wailing was indeed mad as fuck - but do you know what, it was more entertaining than 'The Hump' and it came 5th or 6th !!!

Student Raped

A student was 20p short of the £5.00 bus fare, and the driver refused to let her on board, or wait while she got some money from a cashpoint.  With cunts like this in charge of buses, there's nothing that does less to promote British society!  So, she was left stranded at 3am, 14 miles from home - wonderful show of humanity, eh!?    She was raped shortly aftewards, on the outskirts of Nottingham.  I am not blaming the driver for the rape, of course.  But he acted like a cunt.

The Voice

Will.i.am has no business being on TV at all.  He can't sing, talks utter gibberish, tweets rather than pays attention, and manages to get hold of an Olympic torch to run in a part of the UK that he's never visited before and of which he cannot even pronounc the name.  Now we learn that he's already making plans for Jaz, his act that was ousted on Sunday.  That's great; sod the public vote and official result - get started on work with the runner up on one team rather than pay attention to the guy he has got in the final.  Then we have the fucking fiasco that was Cheryl Cole.  Only in the UK could there be a show called "The Voice" on which the guest singer has to MIME !!!  Irony is just not a good enough word to relay the atrocious cunting cheek of the BBC, and of Cheryl herself!  This £24million dose of bollocks had better not come back next year.  Sadly, some cunt will tweak it, and subject us to more dire torture next year.  Bring back "The Vice" because it was so much better.  By the way, Danny (O'Donoghue) - did you gurn and clap and nod and rabbit punch your way through Cheryl's wonderful live performance, or did you make a stand and refuse to condone miming as per the reports that I read that voiced (ha ha) your concern in advance?  You clapped and gurned!

Freak Fish

An angler, Mark Sawyer, caught a fish that had the head of a roach, the body and tail of a goldfish, and a bream's fin.  Apparently he said: "It's the result of mixed parentage."  No fucking shit, Sherlock!

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29.5.12 Council Tax Budget

We're well underway with the 2012 - 2013 txa year, and of course the councils around the country are busy making sure that they work inefficiently, so that the generally reduced budgets do not manage to cover the needs of the citizens.  With each year's preposterous bill, we get a selection of leaflets that explain how various parties are planning to spend money.  This year's bumf includes information from the police, the fire authority, and of course the council itself.

Police

Many thousands of leaflets have been printed (most of which go in the bin without being read at all) and so I thought I'd take a look at the content.  The first appalling aspect is the front cover of the thing.  It's basically an A4 sheet of paper folded in half, to give four sides of A5.  On the front, below the logo of the local force (yes I know, a logo for the police!  However, I've have posted enough shit about straplines and logos and bollocks from the police already) is a wonderful statement:

We're working to keep crime falling
. . .

and to protect your police service...

How on earth did some arsehole decide this was a useful and appropriate statement?  Fucking incredible.  The first part is nothing less than I'd expect.  I do not need to be fucking told what the police force is supposed to be doing, thank you!  "Catching Cunts" would have been catchier, in my book.  The second part, though, is quite frankly unbelievable - although I am looking at it now, and so have proof of some twat's pathetic attempt at being a clever.  If the police force is working to protect MY police service, then it's not doing its fucking job.  The police should be protecting me, not itself!  Further, the fucking cheek of using the word "YOUR" is amazing.  This is not a pissing M&S advert.  When will companies and institutions get a grip, and stop being lulled into making crappy statements using the latest buzz words and phrases.  Which "touchy feely cunt' dreamed this up? 

The first bit on the inside page states "The Authority's key responsibilities are to:

It then lists a few thing in bullet point form, starting each one with "To . . . . " which renders the "to" in the leading line, or every "To" in the points as superfluous.  Illiterate nobs.

The next bit is headed "Reducing Crime - And Boosting Confidence" but it's not immediately clear why the police should be boosting confidence.  Does that mean boosting their own confidence, because let's face it, their never confident about catching people.  If you've been burgled or had your car/property damaged, you'll know full well that the police input (three days after the event) is to turn up and go "there, there" after first saying, "I'm sorry to say that the chances of catching anyone are rather slim."  Slim!  Slimmer than a washing line prop, I reckon!  The police could certainly do with a confidence boost.  Or, does the statement suggest that the police force is now undertaking a role of helping morale in place of social services, or under a new offshoot called Training & Help For the Timid (THEFT).  I'm sure there are others who could do with some confidence building, just as there are others whose confidence in the economic climate could do with pepping up!  I then read on to see that the force is talking about people's confidence in the police.  The comment that in the whole force's area, there are 30,000 fewer crimes 'recorded' than 20 years ago means fuck all to me - I wasn't living in the area twenty years ago, and in anither twenty years I'll not be comparing results, as I'll be elsewhere, or dead.  It seems the local force "remains top of the confidence figures issued nationally" and over 85% of those questioned are confident.  Hmmmm, so let's see; 15% of, say, a million people is 150,000.  I wonder if this is the same figure as people who are pissed off with the police, and think that the police force is underperforming, based on actual experience ie. victims of crime, or those who have seen the odd police car drive by with two blokes in it, but haven't seen a beat policeman for 17 years - and I do not count the CP3O bods who aren't really given anything to work with but a similar uniform.

Under "Meeting The Financial Challenges" there's a chance for a further display of poor English, with the misuse of an apostrophe, and a missing comma.

"In a service where the vast majority of resources are spent on employee's reductions in the number of Officers and staff are inevitable."

The table on page 3 tells me fuck all of value, and at the bottom I can see that this year I'm paying the police £9.50 more to do whatever it is that this entity claims to do.

On the back page, under "The Future - Police and Crime Commissioners" there is a lot of small print.  The very first line contains a howler:

"In September last year the Police Reform and Social Responsibility Act received Royal Ascent."

I think the twat producing this was thinking of Royal Ascot, or is generally devoid of thought.  Either way, he or she is a nob.  It's Royal ASSENT !!!

This balls-up makes the bullet point - "Ensuring the Chief Constable fulfills their duties . . ." seem almost (but NOT) acceptable.

Fire

This leaflet starts off with a moan about budget cuts and how "We have to look at more innovative ways of delivering our services in the future."  You don't deliver services, you put out fires and cut people from wreckages - that's not delivering.  "We have restructued to ensure that more of our services are delivered directly to you from our local fire stations."  What the fuck does this mean?  More services are now 'delivered' from a fire station locally?  That's your pissing job; come to my house, and if it's on fire, put the cunt out!  If you want to call dousing my house with 28,000 gallons of water via hosepipes "delivering water" then so be it, but I'm not happy with the term because you're hardly going to knock and wait for an answer, or direct everything through the letterbox, are you!

The priorities for 2012/13 seem rather obvious and not really worth detailing.  I'm not sure on the merits of including this tosh. 

We will continually work to achieve our vision just get some specs, then by focusing on the following priority areas:

• continuing to provide an excellent emergency response provision So, you're going to carry on doing your job then, eh?  By the way, providing a provision is mumbo jumbo!
• improving domestic, industrial and road safety within out communities So, "Improving safety" then.  Why embellish it with nothing of value?
• improve our neighbourhoods by tackling arson and anti-social behaviour Since when did you take over from the police in tackling behaviour, and I'd expect you to "tackle" arson, because I call that "Putting a fire out", where I come from.
• continuing to support the health, safety and wellbeing All sounds a bit "spiritual" to me - do you use crystals? of our communities and provide opportunities for young people Hang on, I thought the job centre was where young people go to get opportunities; can't you just put out fires, and left opportunities to others?
• helping the environment through improving our buildings, fleet and reducing our carbon footprint Sorry, this all sounds a bit shite to me, because I'm not that fussed about your buildings, or whether your dart board is a Winmau or not - and as for carbon footprints, if your treading in the stuff all the time, wipe your feet / fleet!

This is all pompous rubbish that is in the main meaningless, just like the slogan/strapline of "Protecting Local Communities", because I wouldn't expect there to be a different agenda - eg. "Knitting Cardigans For The Homeless".

"Our achievements in the last five years" comes next, with a claim to have reduced vehicle arson by 67%.  Excuse me, but unless the Fire Service was lighting its own fires, I think that it's the arsonists' change of vocation that has led to the reduction!  Deliberate house fire have been reduced by 49%.  That's got everything to do with people not deciding to torch their homes, so I'm not sure of the basis for the Fire Service taking credit (?)

On the last page, some stuff about the 'vision' confirms intent to "support the wider agenda of social inclusion and cohesion, neighbourhood renewal, health and crime reduction."  "WIDER AGENDA?"  Wide of the cuntin mark, I'd say!  This extra shit is shit on top of shit.  Leave cohesion to Evo Stik, social inclusion to the government and the social services, neighbourhood renewal to the council, government and developers, health to the fucking NHS, and leave crime reduction to the pissing police!  Just play darts, pool and cards, and put out the odd fire - or tip a cat off a branch.

Then, we have an apostrophe fuck-up.  A woman describing herself as "The Chair" (I'd have said the Wooden Top") signs off just after some further waffle about "achieving this vision whilst addressing it's financial challenges."  ITS IS NEVER POSSESSIVE !!!  A 4% increase on the back of this drivel is a liberty!

Lastly, there's a bit of blurb at the bottom, which starts: "If you require this document translated into another language, please . . . . ."  Yes please, luv - how about English!

Council

The Council leaflet is of slightly higher quality, with a glossy finish.  Obviously the cost-cutting hasn't stretched to the paper used to tell people about increased bills.  The content is of no real interest - it's the usual stuff.  However, I must mention a few things that the Council is going to be spending money on, under various catgories noted as 'Priority Objectives'.

Gross Expenditure £8,053,000  Net Expenditure £2,478,000
To reduce the prevalence of obesity through increased participation in physical activity and improve diet and nutrition.  Two-and-a-half million quid to tell fat people to eat less, and/or fewer pies and cakes.

Gross Expenditure £   676,000  Net Expenditure £   125,000
To reduce alcohol related harm  To stop people drinking themselves to oblivion.

Gross Expenditure £   676,000  Net Expenditure £   125,000
To reduce smoking prevalence with a particular focus on supporting maternal smokers and their families.  To stop people smoking, especially young mums, as they sit collecting benefits in their paid-for homes, hopefully not drinking themselves to oblivion as well.
Gross Expenditure £143,780,000  Net Expenditure £16,771,000
To raise aspiration and achievement and narrow the achievement gap across all age groups.
I am not sure exactly how the council 'raises aspirations' but at a hundred and forty three million quid, I think I'd like to know!

Gross Expenditure £12,802,000  Net Expenditure £9,645,000
To develop more Council and pertner services locally through the expansion of neighbourhood working.  That's a lot of money to allocate to chewing the fat over getting stuff done in neighbourhoods!


All in all, then, a thoroughly pointless and disappointing level of input by the Council.  It may as well have said:  "3.5% increase on last year for the same crappy service, bins not emptied weekly, and no cunt to feign interest when you call us."

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28.5.12 Knives and Probate

What a strange world we live in.  It seems that it's not enough to rely on the law making it an offence to carry a weapon, and that extra advice is needed for people who form the knife-carrying community, ahead of their visits to a Registry office.  In the helpful advice notes that came with some probate information, I have a small flyer that is headed "Knives" and some advice has been provided.  It goes like this -

If you bring a knife with you to this registry, you will be asked to surrender it and it will not be returned when you leave.

The police will be informed of any knife which appears to be evidence of, or in relation to, an offence, e.g. an offensive weapon.

If you believe you should have your knife returned you must, within 28 days of it being surrendered, write to the Probate manager giving the following information:

• Owner's name and address
• A brief description of the knife
• The date the knife was surrendered to the registry
• The reference number provided by the registry at the time of surrender

If the Registry decides that the knife is lawfully held, it will be returned by post to the address given in the letter of request.

Knives held by the Registry for which no letter is received will be destroyed 28 days after surrender.

It is your responsibility to ensure that any request for the return of your knife is received by the registry within 28 days.

I don't know about you, but I find this whole thing rather bizarre.  Why pick on knives, and not then have any provision to deter people from arriving with guns or baseball bats?  As for being asked to surrender knives, who's going to be enforcing that?  There's no on-site security, or detectors, or frisking, so anyone's pocket could be home to a knife. 

The lengthy explanation of the policy and how individuals will need to go about reclaiming a surrendered knife is mad.  I like the bit about a knife being returned by post.  I suggest that posting knives is perhaps not the best approach for a government department.  The whole leaflet, content and reality of the experience of visiting the Registry means everything is pointless - unlike the knives that may or may not be in people's pockets when they arrive.  We'll never know.

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28.5.12 Soccer Aid

What a thoroughly entertaining game, even if it was played at a rather slow pace.  Well done to most.  I did notice that Clarence Seedorf was trying to make sure he passed to other players, thus giving celebrities a helping foot throughout the game.  Now, he's not exactly an 'old timer' considering he's only 36 and has literally only just stopped playing, so perhaps it was fair that he adopted this approach.  At the other end, though, we had Teddy Sherringham and Kevin Phillips who were trying rather harder to score for themselves.  Roy Keane went off injured before he could end anyone's career, which is his party-piece of course.  Serio Pizzorno's goal for ROW was excellent.

Whilst Jaap Stam was a beast who was not massively 'friendly' in this friendly match, it was Teddy Sherringham who was the villain of the day.  Now, I know this match was not under the jurisdiction of the FA, and so there was tolerance and leeway in the refereeing department.  However, if Mark Clattenburg can give Paddy McGuinness a yellow card for kicking the ball away, then I suggest that Howard Webb should have sent off Sherringham.  Not to have given him even a yellow card shows deplorable refereeing by someone whose reputation seems to be rather ahead of his actual ability.

There is much talk of red cards in football for players who commit dangerous challenges, and the expectation is that this always surrounds studs and jumping in, whether with one foot or both feet.  However, serious foul play and reckless challenges do not have to involve feet or studs - as so very clearly demonstrated by Teddy Sherringham.  If you did not see the game, and have not caught up via the internet, watch the input that TS has.  He quite simply 'took out' Gordon Ramsay with a brutal charge into his body/back.  It was no better or worse than some of the red card challenges we've seen this year.  Completely thuggish, and as bad as anything you'll see from John Terry.

So, Teddy Sherringham, same on you.  Poor.

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28.5.12 Gazebo Blockade At Asda

On 20th November 2010, just a month into the life of this blogsite, I posted something called 'Panic Room', which was Adsa-related, and highlighted the madness that their stores create by compromising access and egress.  On 19th April 2011, I posted "Middlesbrough Zoo' and in it I relayed some information on the shoppers at the Asda in Middlesbrough.  Today, I am amazed to report some further developments at the Middlesbrough store.

The entrance doors are on the edge of a walkway that's approximately twelve feet wide, and runs for thirty-five feet before it widens, and turns, to reveal the wondrous world of Asda.  Unfortunately life is not as simple as that, for the act of getting to the shopping area is not an easy one.  Potential shoppers are hampered like fuck.  The numerous obstacles today were:

1. A group of cunts loitering at the alarm point.  You'll be aware that there are large detectors through which shoppers have to go, and non-removal of security tags is the basis for a high pitched alarm sounding.  There are two flat detectors in the walkway, so in effect, this gives three 'lanes' for the people going in and out to share.  The middle one's about five feet wide, and the outer pair offer a gap of about four feet each.  Today, one fat cunt in a stretched t-shirt (she was either pregnant or filled with six boxes of chicken goujons [boxes are eight for £1] and I judged the belly was the equivalent of a six-month brat that was developing an attitude in its mother's womb, or 48 goujons) was leaning forward on her trolly and blocking the far lane.  Whilst she managed this all by herself, she was aided by another woman unglier than a wingless crane with palsy, who leant on one of the alarm fittings, and gassed (possibly from behind as well as from her mouth) while a third person stood at the end of fatty's trolley and looked gormless.  This trio managed to blockade Asda to a level of 30%.  The remaining 70% of access space was shared by those going in and coming out.
2. Immediately after this, on the left hand side, was a weird encroachment of shite, and a woman raising money for something-or-other.  She was sitting at a small desk, and I paid no attention, having darted into the place after seizing my opportunity to beat an oncoming pensioner to the gap.  Just past the machine that changes your money from coins to a voucher after deducting a ludicrous percentage, is the entrance on the right to the toilets.  These are small, totally inadequate, and a disgrace!  It is a fact that outside, there's always a slight hold-up, as people slow and/or stop, and relieved people exit.  The dithering means that the movement of people in and out of the store is lopsided, and there are in effect "eddy currents" of people moving.  Today, there were a few takers for a quick piss in a sub-standard facility, and the empty trolleys were standing outside, as gormless co-shoppers waited.
3. Normally there are, as Dolly Parton might say, "Islands In The Stream", created by carousels and baskets holding fucking bread.  That's right, everyone knows that it's vital to have bread chosen on the way in rather than in the Bakery section.  Yes, shoppers have long demanded that rather than be allowed easy access to the store, they are thwarted by bread, rolls, and such like.  These obstacles even move - yes, they have wheels, and it is just a pity that someone doesn't simply wheel the cunts out the door and leave them by the cashpoints.  It's not as if the alarms would sound, because desperate as times are, especially in Middlesbrough, tagging of bread is not yet in place.  Anyway, the normal shitty plan of the store directors to block the walkway was not in place.  Instead, the racks of dough-based shit were to one side.  This still meant an inappropriate narrowness for a shop that was full, with people enough to warrant that all but one of the twelve checkouts was in use, as well as the six "do it your fuckin self" machines.  Turning at the end of the walkway to move forward and shop has to be done in a space just six fucking cuntin feet wide.  To the right is the corner of a pallet that piled with washing powder, and to the left, the counter for the pharmacy section.  Just as I've never seen anyone negotiate awful traffic, find a space in the car park, enter the store, buy bread and leave [thus justifying the need for bread in the aisle at the entrance] I have never seen equal determination to bother with shopping just for washing powder in very big boxes.  So, why the fuck does it all have to compromise the access?
4. I haven't yet got to today's fantastic development!  The reason for the bread being moved was to make way for a monstrous fucking gazebo!  That's right, the twats in charge decided that the best place for a table and three chairs (at £105) underneath a fucking gazebo was at the entrace to the store!  I kid you not.  So, the hundreds of people going backwards and forwards had to use a reduced-width walkway courtesy of the loafing cunts by the security bollards, and after a shuffle past the loos, a six-foot gap.  Then , it was necessary to get past, through, around (but not over or under) a fucking cuntin gazebo!  Between the newspaper island, pallets and the first items for sale (clothes) there is not enough room anyway - in fact I'd say that the space was probably just about the size of a gazebo.  Blimey - with that unit of measurement, there was only one course of action, wasn't there!  Put a gazebo in the space just about large enough to hold one. 

On the way out, I passed through the fucking thing, within three inches of an old woman who was sitting.  No, she was not trying out the furniture to consider whether a purchase might be appropriate - she was fucking resting.  By the way, I stooped at Customer Services on the way in, not for a rest after my ordeal, but to return something.  I had to wait for a woman who'd decided to buy one of the things, and it was causing a problem.  The shop assistant had to liaise with an old bloke wearing a tabard, who was expressing some sonderable doubt over the logistics.  "I'll have to get a flatbed truck, and see," was what I heard him mumble, while scratching his head.  Where the fuck the stock was kept I do not know, but it sure as hell wasn't easily accessible - a bit like the fucking shop!

This place is more and more like a zoo, mixed with a theme park.  I expect a fucking waterslide next time!  (There's space for one along the back of the checkouts, if shoppers leave in single file).  Bollocking madness, Asda - sort yourselves out.

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27.5.12 Have a Cough, Will

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26.5.12 Useless Judges

I have no idea why judges these days so often prove to the country that they are useless cunts.  Not a week goes by without there being a report of some or other travesty.  Softness is a quality that ought to be reserved for cotton wool and perhaps tissues.  When it comes to sentencing criminals and cunts, there needs to be some sense of appropriateness in sentences given to offenders.  las, I believe this country is fucked.

I read today that a couple of thugs have been spared jail becaise - it's their first offence!  No, I am all for a little bit of leniency on a 'first offence' if the offence is trivial, or perhaps resulted in minor consequences for anyone involved.  So, someone speeding for the very first time, doing 59mph in a 50mph zone is arguably not an offender of the highest order.  I hate people who thieve, but perhaps there could be room to spare someone whose first offence is nicking a Mars Bar is they are given notice to sort themself out.  However, a 'first offence' of murder, GBH, armed robbery?  No, it doesn't work, does it!  So, logically, the leniency on first offences has to be very carefully considered, and not used as a standard approach at all!

I am therefore disgusted, though not surprised, alas - that for crimes against a defenceless child, Emma Cartwright and Neil Gleaves have not gone to jail.  Still, it was their first offence, so everything's okay with such leniency.  What did they do?

He turned up in hospital with multiple fractures; doctors found that the toddlers right leg had been broken at least two days earlier.  He had fractures to both arms, both legs and his left foot and his left shoulder.  Medical staff deemed they were all deliberate.  So then, which one of these was the first offence, then?  To classify this couple's actions as a first offence is itself fucking criminal!  Further, the pair were conviscted of cruelty to another child who was slapped and shaken.  Still, because Mr Gleaves is "hard working" and because there are no previous convictions against either of the offenders, a suspended sentence is apparently fine.

Fucking, cunting bollocks of a justice system we have, when the people in charge are so out of touch with reality, and the expectations of the public. 

The Recorder in this case was, Simon Ward, at Stoke Crown Court.

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26.5.12 Morrisons Price Dips

Here's an example of the diabolical approach of UK supermarkets, and pricing policies which rip off UK consumers.  Yesterday, I made fajitas, and in preparation, shopped for some essentials which included looking for avocados, because who doesn't like guacamole?  The choise was a reasonably large one at £1, or three small ones at £1.50.  The thing was, I couldn't go for any of them, because they were rock hard, and could have been used as replacement cobblestones in a Yorkshire village.  As a result, I had to go for the ready made guacamole.  I was about to pick up a couple of small round plastic containers, which were on sale at £1.15 each, for 125g of the stuff.  This worked out at 92p per 100g.  However, just before I put them in my trolley, I saw on the shelf containers of mixed dips for sale at £1 each, or two for £1.70.  Within these packages was a small section containing guacamole - in fact 100g of it.  So, for 85p per 100g, I bought some.

Can some twat at Morrisons please explain to me how the exact same stuff can be dispensed in one container at 92p/100g, whilst being included in a multi-dip pack at 85p.  I saved seven pence, and got three further dips, 100g each, of cream and chives, salsa, and nacho & chilli.  Pro-rata, I thus paid 21p instead of 92p.

That's well over four times the price for no good reason!  Bonkers!

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26.5.12 Chaos at t'Co-op

The place is a disaster when it comes to functioning in any way that's likely to be beneficial to customers.  The narrow aisle is commonly littered with re-stocking trolleys, and a couple of staff achieving very little, very slowly.  At the top end of the small shop is where the aisle then narrows, as a rack of some-or-other shit is displaying crumpets at 3p off if you buy seventeen of the cunts!  Round the bend (literally) you hit freezer country (or a cunt of a freezer if you're pushed wide by the rack of tea bags that cost only £6.48 for 40).  The aisle with the freezers down the far side was wide, and remained so until the refurbishment two years ago, when a nob decided there was room enough to display baskets, racks and stacks of shite in the middle.  Now, the aisle is split down the middle by these useless displays that provide space either side equivalent to the width of one trolley.  Terraced roads often suffer from a similar issue - there's enough room for one vehicle, but it's a long way to the end of a run of parked cars, and anything coming the other way will be met head on.

I negotiated the overpiced beer, the freezer cabinets were inspected for signs of something on offer (necessary because the twats often put the same stuff in more than one place, so it's not always sold out if the shelf is empty - today, both shelves, eight feet apart, were empty).  I was passed by a very tall man with a low, flat, small trolley speeding towards the checkouts.  I let him pass, and then picked up my newspaper.  Just as I got to the checkouts, a small woman beat me to the queue.  Actually, I am lying, she was not small.  She was very short, yes, about 4'10" but was eaily the same around the girth.  I have not often been beaten to a place in the queue by a ball, but she didn't roll.  It's not true to say she got there by fair means, though, as she approached from the side (rather than 'side on' which would of course have been impossible, being spherical).

There were two tills in operation, this being a Saturday morning at 9am.  Heaven forbid any extra input at peak time would be sanctioned at the Cunt-op.  The one normal checkout woman was serving just one lady (who was twice the size of the one in front of me) and I recognised her from the road-block that arose a few minutes earlier when she was in aisle number one.  I was queuing for the till at the kiosk, because I wanted a lottery ticket, otherwise I'd have stood behind the Arc de Triomphe (although she wasn't French - no baguettes in her trolley!).  Instead, I had to wait behind the Spacehopper.  She was in turn behind Mr Speedy, whom I'd let pass just moments earlier.  He had poured his purchases on to the counter, ready for scanning.  At the checkout alongside me, the large monument was paying for her goods, and nobody was behind her. 

Eventually the last item was scanned by the kiosk till operator, and I expected Mr Speedy to ask for a lottery ticket, or some shit linked to the Paypoint system, for there could be no other reason for him to have chosen the kiosk till.  But no, the cunt needed no ticket, and should have been in the other line with his twenty or more loose items, and his fucking credit card.

"Anyone want to come to this till?" came the the feeble cry from three feet away, the noise directed upwards, and dispersed by reflection off the ceiling rather than by the non-existent fan in the overly warm shop.  Spacehopper needed the kiosk facilities (to an extent that I was not yet aware of) and I needed a lottery ticket.  Behind me the two other shoppers clearly had similar needs, as none of us moved sideways.  I considered that the appropriate action would have been for the checkout woman to stand at the other till in the kiosk, and be of service to shoppers.  Instead, she chose to help Spacehopper pack a few items into bags.  Then, after nine seconds of input, she said: "Call me if you need me" to her kiosk colleague, and sauntered off to line up the spring onions, or place wire baskets at overtaking points in the small store. 

I stood, and despaired, both in terms of my predicament, and at the shape before me.  I mused about grabbing her ears, sitting on her back, and bouncing down the street, but decided that the fat, very short, round woman resembling a pasty-looking version of the classic orange Spacehopper would most likely sue me.  I watched and waited.  Elsewhere in the vicinity, paint dried, grass grew green and ASBOs were handed out.  Eventually the last item of shopping was scanned, but that was not the end of things.  No, she produced a purse - well, a black version of a cuntin' spice rack, there were so many compartments. [Hmmm, I've just realised that Schwartz makes spices, and is German for 'black', the colour of her wallet which was the size of a spice rack - how odd!]  She had plastic for swiping, and asked for shit to do with Gas, Electric and Phone.  Pissing Paypoint transactions are testing the nation's patience.  Behind me, the queue had grown.  There were now five customers behind me. 

Next on the agenda was the search for the Dividend card.  She checked her spice rack, but it was nowhere to be found.  I was pleased as hell not to have to witness her checking her other rack - ie. the sliver of space between two squashed doughballs - and thank got she'd not seen (or taken a hint from) the book and film Papillion, which might have given her the idea of hinding things up her arse for safe keeping.  The transaction via credit card was completed without points being awarded to her loyalty card, although her receipt would "contain details for her to make a call to an 0800 number withing seven days" . . . . . yawn . . . . arghh.

As if by magic, the basket-mover / basket-case appeared, refreshed from inhaling spring onion fumes, and went over to the other kiosk till.  "Would you like to move along?"  What fucking possessed her to make that a question I do not know.  I picked my few things up and went to her till, and wondered what she'd look like trapped inside a wire basket.  I bagged my purchases, and paid cash, so that I actually exited the shop just ahead of the Spacehopper.  After I'd crossed the road, I looked back and saw Spacehopper and L'Arc de Triomphe standing together by the lights on the other side; they were together!

I walked into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, dismissing the thought of a beer at 9.15am.  How can it be so much work to buy a newspaper, a pizza, milk and a lottery ticket?

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25.5.12 Eurovision Is Flawed

This year's contest in Baku, Azerbaijan, emphasises how ludicrous the Eurovision Song Contest has become.  This is a country that's simply not in Europe.  This prompted me to look a bit more closely at the weird and wonderful interpretation of "Europe" in relation to this farce of a competition.  I have nothing against the Eastern European countries, but the break-up of former nations into many more smaller countries simply resulted in a massive bias that renders any attempt by a Western European country rather pointless.

Russia is not in Europe, but part of Russia is apparently allowed to be counted as 'European', and the land area of that part of Russia is fractionally under 4 million square kilometres.  At the other end of the scale, Malta has a land area of 316 square kilometres.  So European Russia is 13,000 times bigger.  I think that rather demonstrates the lunacy of votes and how this botched together remnant of a contest now limps along.  I cannot even be bothered to make comparisons on populations.  I am actually surprised that Northern Ireland, Wales, Scotland and England don't all compete separately, to maximise chances, if we are so stupid not to abstain altogether.  Britain's participation is pointless and actually annoying as fuck.

Have a look at the table below, showing in simple terms the competitors and their 'qualification' for being included.  Taking the widest definition of 'Europe', and making cross references with competitors and member of the European Union, I have come across some weird tolerances.  Some countries are just being silly if they think they are European.  Even in Wikipedia, I found a comment that stated two countries were most definitely in Asia, but "sociopolitically, they are European".  What the fuck?  Well, I like tapas but I'm not Spanish!  I think mounted police are wonderful, but I am not Canadian!  If penguins claim to have an affinity to the European way of life, will Antarctica be allowed entry so that some fisherman can sing a version of Ice Ice Baby?

Countries Competing in Eurovision Song Contest	EU Member	In Europe Physically
Albania
Austria
Azerbaijan		Asia
Belarus
Belgium
Bosnia & Herz.
Bulgaria
Croatia	Candidate
Cyprus		Western Asia
Denmark
Estonia
FYR Macedonia	Candidate
Finland
France
Georgia		Asia
Germany
Greece
Hungary
Iceland	Candidate	Nowhere else for it
Ireland
Israel	WTF	WTF
Italy
Latvia
Lithuania
Malta
Moldova
Montenegro	Candidate
Norway
Portugal
Romania
Russia		Part Asia
San Marino
Serbia	Candidate
Slovakia
Slovenia
Spain
Sweden
Switzerland
The Netherlands
Turkey	Candidate	Part Asia & Middle East
Ukraine
United Kingdom
Countries Not Competing	EU Member	In Europe Physically
Czech Republic
Luxembourg
Poland
Andorra
Armenia		Western Asia
Liechtenstein
Monaco
Vatican City

Clearly 'green' is 'yes' and 'red' is 'no'.  Some countries are candidates for joining the EU.  Poland, Luxembourg and the Czech Republic have shown some sense by not competing in this year's contest.  In contrast, a number of countries with no basis for being included are competing with zest.  The biggest anomaly is of course Israel.  This is nothing new, because its inclusion in the Eurovision Song Contest has for many years made a complete mockery of what 'Europe' is.  I think 999 people in every thousand would agree that Israel is in the Middle East and not in Europe.  [The one in a thousand would be a delinquent].  It is perhaps the participation of Israel, a cuckoo in the nest, that paved the way for Asian countries to join in.

Above, there is a list of the 42 countries competing in Asia, to try and win the Eurovision crown and bring it back to Europe - unless of course it's won by another entrant of dubious geographic qualification.  If we discount countries which are not members of the EU and which are not in Europe, then the real number of entrants should be 23.  Yes, that's right, there are 19 interlopers!  If the three qualifiers who are not actually competing were to be included, then the actual number of proper European countries which would be contesting the Eurovision Song Contest would be 26.  Fuck me, that happens to be exactly the number of countries that make it to the final in Baku - 26 nations competing for the title.  BUT - the wrong 26 !!!  How on earth does it make sense to have a competition that allows massive infiltration, is then forced to hold two semi-finals ahead of the big night, and ends up with the right number of participants for the final? 

I did catch some of the Panorama programme on BBC1 this week, which explored the regime in Azerbaijan.  It seems that there is very much wrong with the country.  Not its people, I dare say - but the ruling family and the money that's seemingly (as ever) at the heart of some startling revelations.  How the wider (well, wide as fucking hell) European community can embrace parts of Asia and by default endorse a corrupt regime is unbelievable. 

Once this competition was quaint. old-fashioned, and tame.  Then it became funny, and then it was a focus of attention for anyone gay for some reason.  With Terry Wogan commentating, it was often amusing to watch, even though the performances were outlandish and dire, for the most part.  The cynical voting, politics and biased approaches started a rapid decline in things, and left the competition devoid of any integrity at all.  Emerging/new nations wanted to win it to show they'd 'arrived' and the word 'farce' became more accurate as a descriptive term, year by year.  This is not the World Cup, nor is it the Olympics.  It's a shite singing festival that costs a fortune, produces nothing of quality, and kills the planet as 10,000 people descend on the given venue, and camp out to report on events over the week.

I fully expect that parts of North Africa will join in again at some stage, as bordering the Mediterranean Sea is apparently a criterion for qualification [Morocco appeared once in the eighties!].  I wonder if Jersey or the Isle of Man might wave their own flags and, Crown Dependencies or not, demand representation?  Surely there are some tambourines in a the store cupboard of a disused primary school that could be put to use, and a maypole as a focal point for locals to practise?  Will Vatican City State join in one day?  This would cause issues because Roman Catholics might be in a dilemma - vote for shit music, or religious stuff.  What about states that want independence, and international recognition.  These provinces with their own flags and cultures will want a vote and a place on the list for Eurovision in due course.

I know that the technical means for qualification is membership of the European Broadcasting Union, and not strictly to do with Europe, the Euro or the European Union.  However, the competition was invented by the Swiss (who staged in Lugano the first competition in 1956 between just seven countries) when Switzerland isn't in the EU.  It's all fucking bollocks.


What a mess.

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