31.8.13 X-Factor Returns

The cliches have returned, along with the horrendous and gruesome Sharon Osbourne, the slow-talking Gary Barlow (Thomas The Tank) plus  Louis Walsh (like a pointless uncle at a wedding) who is on series 10, and Nicole.

Dermot O'Dreary introduced some shit to us, and I was bored rather too quickly.  I don't think there's any merit in bothering to post anything until we get to the latter stages of the audition process.  The start of X-Factor has coincided with the first Christmas decorations going up, and that suggests it will be a long haul to the end of this series, and to Christmas.  Having to listen to Sharon for 15 weeks is likely to cause me serious mental health issues.

This deranged woman is a match for many of the deranged entrants.  Still, if you have alcohol in your cup while supposedly 'judging' people, then that's going to cause some issues.  Whether the people trying to get somewhere are good or awful, it's rather disrespectful to fall well short of doing your job - for which you're overpaid by a serious amount.  What do you know, Sharon, about anything ?????

TTT Barlow has developed an annoying habit of saying "This is where we're at" and obviously wants to be a panelist on Dragons' Den.  Seeing as he's got rather more money than Kelly Hoppen (allegedly worth just £160,000) then he's got rather better credentials for being on that show!

Louis seemed to know when the camera was on him, as he managed a little cock-of-the-head whenever he was on show.  I so hope Emeli Sande is not the standard choice of singer-to-copy for these auditions.  It was, once upon a time, Robbie Williams ('Angels') and then Adele.  Lack of imagination is a sin.

Euphoria Girls - worth a slap around the head (x5) with a saucepan.  Nicole, they were NOT cute!  TTT said they were like something that arrived at a children's birthday party.  Louis was a tit/cunt! He said 'yes'. ET said 'yes'. Nicole said 'yes'.  Poor judging.  The woman at the end of the programme was sound.

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31.8.13 Stepping Out

I am now being served shit by ITV, in the form of "Stepping Out", the latest dollop of dance bollocks.  How this made it to prime time Saturday television is a mystery, although clearly there was some incentive for ITV to compete with Strictly Come Dancing.  Just to be clear, this IN NO WAY competes with Strictly.

Carl Froch & Rachael Cordingley

They tamely wobbled around and introduced mediocre TV to us viewers, allowing Wayne Sleep, Jason Gardiner and Mel B to comment afterwards, and bore the arse off of anyone still tuned in.  31/60

Denise Welch & Lincoln Townley

Is there anything Denise won't do, or appear on?  The disco dancing was simply less exciting than watching a tea bag turn hot water brown.  Her make-up reminded me of Coco the Clown - that lipstick was fucking horrendous. Comments from the 'judges'?  "You are so fun and likeable," said Mel B.  So off the money that she should retire to St Helena.    "You have an award winning smile," said Jason to Denise.  Yes, Jason, like Coco the Cuntin' Clown! Wayne Sleep - does anyone give a shit what he said?  Well, he talked shit.  28/60

Lawrence & Jackie Llewlyn Bowen

Davina McCall managed to replicate her standard manner of presenting anything, whether Million Pound Drop, or a fucking advert for Garnier 'Nutrisse'. The pointless chit chat with two rather pretentious-sounding daughters was irrelevant, and we were then 'treated' to the VT intro.  Street dancing was laughable, and dire. I pissed myself at the hilarious movements and screamed to Mrs MWSC to report I'd not seen anything so bad for ages.  Mel - "You put your heart and soul into that routine.  I was laughing at you."  Jason simply provided some unwanted marriage guidance counselling.  Wayne - "Vivienne Westwood would be proud of you."  26/60

Glynis Barber & Michael Brandon

I watched this Tango and wondered whether to carry on breathing or not.  It was okay, but I found it non-life changing.  Davina whooped afterwards, calling it "Hot" three times, so I must be wrong with my boredom.  "You've been on a bit of a journey," said Davina to Michael, and so committed a mortal sin with the 'journey' word.  Jason loved Glynis.  Mel B spoke like a bloke.  Wayne was as creepy as ever.  Why is everyone trying so hard to make this stuff so important?  37/60

Baylis & Harding "Proudly Sponsors" Stepping Out,I leaned again in yet another advert break, and I wondered how pride has any relevance whatsoever. I'd have swapped pride for embarrassment, personally.

Brian McFadden & Vogue Williams

"I'm probably best known for being a member of Westlife."  No, Brian, there's no 'probably' about it - that's the ONLY reason your name rings a bell.  Rock 'n' Roll was the style allocated, and they did it very well even though the music was shit.  Jason thought it was good, Mel B imitated Barry White with a growling comment of congratulation, and Wayne washed over me; decent scores.  42/60

Oritse Williams & AJ Azaris

The Radio Times called him Ortise, but never mind that.  "You might best know me for being in the band JLS" said Oritse.  Hmmm . . . have a chat with Brian McFadden, and console each other that there's no other reason for any of us to have a clue about who you are other than for being in a band.  Tap dancing is hardly entertaining; I tut-tutted to myself, and managed a better sound than this pair.  The song/music was shite as was this 'performance'.  I swigged from my can of lager and wished I was drunk.  Back to the 'dancing'.  "Tonight JLS stands for Just Looks Sensational," said Davina.  Jason seemed to think it was a case of 'saving the best till last' but I beg to differ.  Mel B 'loved it' and Sleepy talked shit with a shit delivery. Mel B gave them both a 10.  Twat. 53/60


I will not be blogging about this shit again, as I have depressed myself during the process this evening.  If I never see Denise Welch again, I'll be a happy cunt.  If LLB and wife Jackie think they were anything but a joke act tonight then shame on them for a lack of awareness.  Overall, ITV has landed us with a waste of space, and something that is woefully short of Strictly Come Dancing. The only thing that was an improvement was no Bruce Forsythe or Tess Daly.

Overuse of the word 'amazing' was noticeable.  They will all be back at 6.30pm next week - not me though.

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31.8.13 Too Big For Their Boots

School Uniforms

Schools are a law unto themselves, and no better demonstration of this came in today's news that a 14-year-old girl was sent home from a Leicester school because her trousers were too tight.  Fucking preposterous, and the self-righteous twat in charge defended her decision even though it was pathetic, and the worst sort of example to send to a teenager about decision making.

The headteacher (Liz Logie) needs to wake up and act sensibly.  If the schoolgirl had turned up dressed like her mother, then I would have some slight sympathy for the non-compliance.  Schools are so often too big for their boots (not that boots are allowable footwear) and this state of affairs was only encouraged by the stupid switch of many secondary schools to 'academies'. The result has been that most have sought to elevate their standing, and claim to be better than they are - whilst introducing a new and expensive uniform. Listen up, CIC: it is about the pupils and their education, not your fucking vanity and your status.as a 'supplier'.  Concentrate on your jobs and get real.

Universities

Universities are even worse at bigging themselves up.  There seems to be an impression amongst those running universities that they are entitled to grow, year on year, and extend their power, reach and presence irrespective of the economic climate or the demand from students.  It is NOT the right of every university to expand and pat itself on the back for being wonderful.  Charging £9,000 per year for every place is now the norm, and it smacks of cuntism in many cases.  This "business" is so out of sync with the whole concept of education and learning, and these institutions are riddled with stupid views that they are entitled to march towards ever-greater levels of domination.  It is also the case that degrees are worth less than they used to be worth, are easier to come by, and are dished out in a range of subjects that is far too diverse to have proper relevance to today's society, needs or the jobs market.  With some issues now in recruiting fee-payers in the UK, the international students are all the more sought after, to help these bloated entities keep going and growing. What an out-of-control bandwagon.

Gordon Taylor

So, the union leader who has the cushiest job going with a salary of £1,000,000 per year has been exposed as someone with a rather severe gambling habit.  Owing over £100,000 through gambling debts is both inconvenient and rather embarrassing considering his past comments about gambling being the scourge of the football world.  His position does seem untenable considering that as the leader of the players' union, he needs to command respect.  The 12-man committee has supported Mr Taylor, so it's apparently okay to gamble with such severe consequences whilst representing players who he's told that gambling is evil. Hmmmm.  I reckon he hasn't got far to go to emulate Sepp Blatter in terms of trying (and failing) to portray himself in a good light.  I think the real reason he's hanging on to his position is that he needs his salary to have a chance of paying off the debt.

Ed Miliband

I have nothing much to say about this toad, other than to confirm he is too big for his boots and hasn't a shred of credibility.  Anyone who thinks a vote for Labour whilst he is in charge is anything other than stupid is stupid himself or herself.  The sooner he pisses off the better.

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27.8.13 Snippets From The Papers

Is This Really Entertainment?

I accidentally stumbled across the listings for last night, on the Satellite channel 'Really'.  I was half way through watching the overly long 'Vera' on ITV and mid yawn I decided to see what else might be on.  My disbelief was severe, upon seeing the 'Really' entry for eleven o'clock.

11.00 My Breasts and I  Jenny Frost discusses the anxieties she has about her breasts.

Well really!  Sandwiched between "Another 101 Things Removed From The Human Body" and "Celebrity Rehab", it was second in a run of three rather peculiar programmes.  In the next column I saw some offerings from Quest, a channel with an identity crisis based on a run of four programmes, as follows:

12.00 How Do They Do It?
1.00 Couples Who Kill
2.00 Total Fishing with Matt Hayes
3.00 Tommy Walsh's Eco House

Katie Price's Problems

In her regular column this week, KP highlighted the plight of Vietnamese women smuggled into the UK to work in 'Nail Bars'.  In particular, she covered the awful story of Li Tan, who was brought here and gang raped before being put to work in a cannabis factory.  Then she was moved to a nail bar, to work as a technician by day and when it turned to a brothel at night, as a prostitute. Before learning of Li Tan's rescue, there was a final sentence from KP that introduced some (unintentional) humour:

"Me and Li Tan have got one thing in common.  We are both trained nail technicians."

I must say that my mind had raced ahead and I was not thinking of that particular common link.  As for KP's appalling grammar ['Me and Li Tan . . .] it goes to prove that you need no qualifications to get a newspaper column these days, other than an inflated opinion of yourself and inflated breasts.

Problem Page Problems of the Month

I have two for August that are quite simply amusing, although each demonstrates a sadness with a rather different twist and consequence.  Both females involved are deluded and completely silly.

1  - When my boyfriend asks me to give sexual favours to his mates I do it because I'm so infatuated with him. and he said I should if I love him.  I'm 16 and he is 22.  We met in a club and had sex, and I asked to see him again. He agreed but said our relationship would only be casual as he has other girls he sees.  I love him though, so I'm happy to be with him whenever he wants to see me.  I turned up at his flat last week and he had two mates there.  He took me to his bedroom and we had sex.  Then he said his mates wanted sex too.  I agreed and they both came in and took it in turns to have sex with me.  I've done this twice now.  I just want to please my boyfriend but do you think he really cares about me?

2  - I have only seen my boyfriend for four hours in four months and I'm fed up. We've been together for six months but he's a workaholic.  We decide to meet but he then always has something else he needs to do.  I don't want to break up but it's making me unhappy.

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24.8.13 TV Fortnight

As I dispose of my TV guide for last week and acquire a new one for the coming week, I thoughts I'd share a few observations on some of the things that jump from the pages.

Last week I noticed quite a few of the details on programmes were slightly odd; without the programme name, these details sound really odd.  It's better after switching the pairings; see if you can spot them.

You've Been Framed! - Dick Strawbridge checks sheep for foot rot.
Saturday Farm - Featuring a woman using stairs as a slide.
Shipping Wars - Charity worker Wendy is concerned when a sub-Saharan parasitic bug resists treatment.
Top Tens - Jessie Pavelka helps a 30 stone man lose weight
Classic Mastermind - Roy saws a sculpture in half.
Fat: The Fight of My Life - Countdown of the world's most popular tanks based on expert opinion.
Bugs, Bites and Parasites: Tropical Diseases Uncovered - Specialist subjects include Ann Frank and The Vicar of Dibley**

** Can Mastermind get any more ludicrous.  We recently had The Muppets as a 'specialised subject' and seeing an old (repeat) edition suggests there's been a longstanding problem in assessing people's knowledge. A quiz where two contestants compete on such differing subjects is fatally flawed.  I reckon I could answer a fair few questions on the VOD because it's on all the fucking time.

On BBC2 last Saturday, there was a theme in a run of three programmes, all animal related, as per the following listings:

3.00 Wild China Creatures inhabiting the Yunnan Province
4.00 Urban Jungle Revealing wildlife living in London
4.30 Final Score Round-up of football results

Elsewhere, there were other listings worthy of comment:

4.30 Rachel Allen: Bake! A traditional Provencal tart.  [Is she, indeed?]
9.00 Big Brother: The Final Emma Willis whittles down the remaining contestants one by one.  [I would only ever have considered watching this if it was meant in the literal sense; Emma with a Bowie knife and there at last being a point to this show] 
3.45 A Taste of My Life Neil Morrissey talks about his culinary life.  [Wrong choice of 'c-word' there, I think]
9.00 Do No Harm Ian falls for a woman with multiple-personality disorder. [Shouldn't that be 'women' then?]

Finally, for last week, there was the amazing line-up of programmes on Saturday on the Satellite Channel, 'Animal Planet', exactly as follows.  It wins The Man Who Says Cunt's "Clean Sweep of the Week Award".

12noon The Zoo (HD) 12.30 The Zoo (HD) 1.00 The Zoo (HD) 1.30 The Zoo (HD) 2.00 The Zoo (HD) 2.30 The Zoo (HD) 3.00 The Zoo (HD) 3.30 The Zoo (HD) 4.00 The Zoo (HD) 4.30 The Zoo (HD) 5.00 The Zoo (HD) 5.30 The Zoo (HD) 6.00 The Zoo (HD) 6.30 The Zoo (HD) 7.00 The Zoo (HD) 7.30 The Zoo (HD) 8.00 The Zoo (HD) 8.30 The Zoo (HD) 9.00 The Zoo (HD) 9.30 The Zoo (HD) 10.00 The Zoo 10.30 The Zoo (HD) 11.00 The Zoo (HD) 11.30 The Zoo (HD) 12midnight The Zoo (HD)

Today's new listing guide contains a few more amusements, although it's not as good as last week's.  Today, as part of the three 'wildlife' programmes bundled on BBC2, the content of "Urban Jungle" seems rather tame, considering the title - "Naturalist Mike Dilger looks at newts and butterflies in Yorkshire."  That doesn't really fit in with "Jungle" as fat as I'm concerned. Over on Sky Living, I thing a renaming of one programme is called for.  "Best of Nothing To Declare" should perhaps be called "Fuck All To Declare".

There are a few programmes this week that are not in fact being shown on a porn channel, despite their names.  I refer to:

Monsters Inside Me (Animal Planet)
Secret Eaters (Channel 4)
Wanted Down Under (BBC1)
Flog It! (BBC2)
Michaela's Wild Challenge (Channel 5)
New Tricks (BBC1)

Channel 4 has shown complete laziness with its offering on Monday, seeing the Bank Holiday as an excuse to serve up 'Ben Hur', and kill four hours and five minutes of the schedule.  Still, makes a change from eight re-repeated episodes of 'Come Dine With Me'.  HOWEVER, this is not as dire as ITV's pathetic airing of multiple Harry Potter dollops, to eat away at the schedules.  I think the latest one is "Harry Potter and the Giblets of Stone" or maybe it's "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Nob on Fire".  Whatever.

The Clean Sweep of the Week Award was closely fought for this week coming. The Good Food Channel came close, with eleven consecutive hour-long programmes called "River Cottage: Summer's Here". However, the channel spoiled the flow with "Jamie Does Venice" at 11pm and at midnight is served up "Ken Hom's Chinese".  I would have guessed that about Ken, but then I realised there was another word on the next line - "Cookery".  It's a similar story over on the Discovery Channel where "Off The Rails" filled the whole schedule except for an hour at 10pm when it was deemed necessary to show "Ultimate Warfare".

Joint winners for the week are two satellite channels, Animal Planet and Good Food, which have lined up, respectively:

12noon Animal Cops San Fransisco  2.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  3.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco 4.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  5.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  6.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  7.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  8.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  9.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco 10.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco  11.00 Animal Cops San Fransisco 12midnight Animal Cops San Fransisco. [I am not sure what the plans were at 1pm unless the noon edition was a double?]

1pm Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
2.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
3.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
4.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
4.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
5.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
5.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
6.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
6.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
7.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
7.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
8.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
8.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
9.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
9.30 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
10.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey
11.00 Rick Stein's Seafood Odyssey

Well done Rick!

...

23.8.13 Asda Exchanges

Checkout Operator:  "Do you need any help with your packing?"
Actual Answer:         "No, thanks."
Correct Answer:       "If by 'help' you mean you might actually give me enough bags to contain the shopping I am purchasing, then yes, I'd like help.

Checkout Operator:  "Did you find everything you needed?
Actual Answer:         "Yes, thanks."
Correct Answer:       "Of course I didn't, you thick twat, because this Asda is a shit one with a pathetically limited range of good available, further diminished by empty fucking shelves in the same ration as holes to cheese in a slab of Emmental.  Also, you asked me the very same question three weeks ago when you last served me, and when I said 'No', you got all fucking uppity and defensive.  You asked what I couldn't find with a level of enthusiasm lower than the bar height of a limbo-dancing gerbil, and when I told you what was unavailable, you had fuck all to say.  You will recall I said that it was not really surprising because this was not a 'proper Asda', and your face-pull which followed was more impressive than a Middle Ages gargoyle.

Checkout Operator:  "Do you need more bags?"
Actual Answer:         "Yes, please."
Correct Answer:       "What do you think, you silly cunt?  You have continued to shovel food towards me after I have filled the two carrier bags available.  The three chickens, two tubs of Clover and two bottles of High Juice waiting at the end of your checkout chute are all as idle as I am, while I stand and wait. Perhaps your dual core brain (ie. both cells) might decide whether to combine to provide me with more bags.

Checkout Operator:  "I'm sorry, I haven't any five-pound notes."
Actual Answer:          [Shrug]
Correct Answer:       "Fucking typical, and I don't appreciate £9.75 in coins. Maybe I can abandon this trolley and the quid within it, reducing the change in coins to 25 pence."

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18.8.13 Spain In A Mess

It is abundantly clear that Spain is in a complete mess.  The whole continent knows it, and the people of course know it - they are living in the mess and trying to cope.  It is therefore a shame that the people in charge there decide upon a policy that means simply picking a fight, and stirring everything up while expecting that subjects will show patriotism to justify the leaders' actions.  This tactic is one that tries to encourage the Spanish people to come together in joint outrage at the British.  Unfortunately this is an insult to the ordinary people of Spain, and an insult to the intelligence of anyone bothering to consider the situation. The whole approach being adopted by the Spanish government (and Monarchy) is sadly not that surprising, because in stressful times, and when a national is on the back foot, it is quite common for leaders to try and 'rally' everyone and create a shared mission.  The hope of course is that attention will be diverted from the domestic dire situation, and enormity of a national crisis, to an international spat where nationality is supposed to play a key part (which logic and common sense, let alone perspective) being pushed to the wings.  There is absolutely no reason why Spanish and British people should not get on, but it seems the Spanish government is keen to prove otherwise.

So, the threats are floating everywhere, regarding fees of 50 Euros for crossing the border between Spain and Gibraltar. The queues and supposed 'checks' are purposefully fucking up the lives of many thousands of people, including a stupidly high number of Spaniards whose livelihoods depend completely on Gibraltar! This is apparently 'retaliation' for British actions, but it's not that at all. It is without doubt the most pathetic stance possible, and serves no one at all - in either country.

I love Spain and so it's a travesty that the twats in charge are trying to be divisive and incite confrontation. How did this all start?  Well, this time round, it was supposedly triggered by the antagonistic and unacceptable actions of Gibraltar in building an 'artificial reef'.  A few concrete blocks being dropped in the water (apparently a good idea, according to Greenpeace) has angered the Spanish Prime Minister (Mariano Rajoy) to an apoplectic level.  He seems not to mention that Spain has itself installed 25 identical reefs along its southern coastline, nor does he mention that the funding for them was 75% from the EU. So, Gibraltar pays for one small artificial reef but this is outrageous, while the EU (with the UK donating a fair chunk) pays millions to help Spain do the very same thing!  As a country that gains enormously from the EU and from the UK, I think Mr Rajoy is out of his depth on presenting any logical argument.  His means of being a nuisance, then, are fucking up the border crossing, and ignoring the fact that the contents of thousands of Spanish lavatories are directed at those going for a swim in Gibraltar.  Nice.

Aside from all of the above, though, there is the ludicrous hypocrisy to deal with.  Spain has its own 'version of Gibraltar', in the form of Cueta, the territory that's about 15 miles away, over the water in Africa.  That's right, on another continent!  The similarities are striking.  The inhabitants if Cueta [84,000 of them in 2012] are Spanish.  Despite it being a tiny place on the tip of Morocco, it is a Spanish territory and will not be relinquished.  Just for your reference, they have a similar outpost on the east Moroccan coast - Melilla - where another 80,000 Spanish citizens are camped.

So, I think it is fair to conclude that the hypocrisy is profound, and that the sabre rattling by the Spanish government is completely out of synch with the views of the ordinary Spanish folk who visit and/or work in Gibraltar.  The views will most certainly be rather different from those citizens who live in Cueta and Melilla. Perhaps Mr Rajoy will confirm that he will sanction the return of both places to Morocco and that the 180,000 Spaniards will move back to Spain (?) and that could perhaps be a good step in encouraging the UK to give Gibraltar [where the population is 29,000] to Spain.

Please can we all stop pissing about and get back to normal.

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17.8.13 One Big Con

The Church, Charities, Universities and the BBC are all amazing entities - amazing in the sense that they operate in strange ways and with skewed outlooks.  In fact, there are inherent cons with them.  Obviously only the BBC is a specific one - the other terms are more general, and collectives.

The BBC is so up its own arse that it seems to think there are no limits to its sense of proportion.  It continues to squander ludicrous amounts of money on stupid projects, daft ideas and on people who are simply not worth a toss.  All of this is done with dogged persistence and a complete disregard for the source of its funds - the licence fee payers.  Deluded with an inflated idea of its own importance, power and authority, the BBC then proceeds to adhere to self-serving policies, denial of everything that could be considered out-of-order, and to top it all, is infected by a left wing bias that's shocking and cuntish.  In summary, it means we are all being conned daily by an organisation that's a long, long way from being what it purports to be.

Universities this week announced that a record number of student places were confirmed within one day of the A Level results being announced.  This is not anything to cheer, but something to link with tuition fees. With students now worth a minimum of £27,000 to each university (assuming the minimum course length of three years at the £9,000 per year fees) it is hardly surprising that universities are anxious to secure their incomes.  This is not about standards anymore, it is simply business.  With so many young people now able to go to university (notice I say 'able' rather than 'qualified') but actually wondering whether to bother, it is no surprise that any university tries to grab some money.  These are screwed up times, and money counts. Sadly these institutions are corrupted by the finances to some degree (pun intended) and only the students suffer. The ones who suffer most are those who are deluded into thinking they are cleverer than they are, who will then run up the debts.

Charities are quite possibly and quite probably forces for good in so many cases.  However, in general, their whole collective existence is not logical, let alone viable on an economic level.  In the business world, companies cease to exist or merge on a regular basis where economies of scale allow saving and increased efficiency. However, charities are hell bent on keeping separate identities and competing with each other for a limited pot of money.  All that happens is that a smaller amount of money finds its way to the 'good causes' than would be the case if fewer charities existed.  Instead, more expenses are covered with donations than are necessary.  Then, in the name of charity, people beat drums and try to raise money for the stupid number of organisations that are all clamouring for donations.

The Church is completely up its arse - well, actually it's the ability of some of those within it to invade arses that is the bone (pun intended) of contention. This week the General Synod voted to apologies for "past safeguarding wrongs".  WTF?  The General Synod is a tosspot collection of nobs, and the whole church is a fucking mess.  I read yesterday that the Church supports fracking because it will help to keep the utility bills of the poorest people at a lower level.  Again, WTF?  Keep your noses and your nobs out of politics and controversy.  At the same time it would be rather nice if the £750 million investment portfolio was distributed to those it purports to care for!  The Church is a fucked up entity.  The Roman Catholic Church is of course an equally fucked up institution that serves itself so much better than it ever manages to serve its followers. The fickleness, corruption and disgust oozes from every vestry, every chapel and every rent-free residence of those whose calling allows them to avoid having to live a real life.

There is little that's real, worthy, fair, pure, honest and appropriate anymore. Instead we are expected to turn blind eyes to all manner of transgressions, bias, self-servitude and cubnism.  What a mess.

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17.8.13 Chatter and So Un-Co-operative

All I wanted was my newspapers and a lottery ticket, but unfortunately the purchase of these is not straightforward, especially when having to deal with the Co-op and its customers.  Obviously the store was understaffed, as anyone would expect on a Saturday morning - clearly an off-peak time!  Just two tills were operational; one checkout for the normal purchases, via the miniature conveyor belt, and the other at the kiosk next to the lottery machine.

The Policy of the Co-op has been flawed for as long as I can remember. Shoppers who want cigarettes are not obliged to queue at the kiosk (that is home to the cigarettes) and can instead use the general checkout. This means that when they have their turn, they can request cigarettes and the till operator has to leave the till and go to the kiosk, obtain the relevant brand/quantity and return.  This whole process applies equally for spirits, which are also kept away from the thieving hands of shoppers, and stored securely on shelves behind the kiosk counter.  When this little pantomime arises, it of course delays progress for all, as the Co-op worker waddles around and squeezes through the side entrance to the kiosk, and shimmies his or her way to the required products. Getting to the kiosk necessitates negotiation of the long queue of people waiting to get served by the one employee pissing about at the kiosk, using the Paypoint terminal for bill payments, mobile top-ups, issuing scratchcards, printing lottery tickets, and of course scanning a stupid number of groceries that are plonked on the counter by shoppers who have no choice if they need any of the services or products I just mentioned.  So one need not queue at the cigarette kiosk if one needs cigarettes, but if you want a lottery ticket, then you need to slow everyone at the kiosk with your £45 of groceries to get one lucky dip!

In theory, then, a shopper wanting cigarettes could, upon seeing a long queue at the kiosk, buy a pack of chewing gum, take it to the checkout lane and ask for cigarettes.  The checkout operator would then depart, walk, shimmy, return with fags, scan and be paid - all before the cunt at the front of the kiosk queue has even requested a lucky dip to go with the weekly food shopping.  It would take no longer for the checkout operator to print a lucky dip than it would to get fags and booze, but no - that's not the policy!

It gets worse.  Rather than expect the checkout operator on the single checkout lane to do anything strenuous, there's a different expectation in play now from the Co-op and its staff; I witnessed the more common approach adopted by the workers, while waiting in the queue at the kiosk (because I wanted a lottery ticket).  On a Saturday, it is even more common for people's purchases to include a lottery ticket, so the queue at the kiosk is always longer.  However, the Cunt-op fails every week to recognise this fact and insists on allocating a single operator to the kiosk and firing up just one of the two tills. The other worker is positioned at the end of the small conveyor belt, ready to use a terminal that is far less popular.  The convention now is that the kiosk worker is diverted from her own job by the cunt in the middle of the shop when cigarettes are required.  Midway through serving, the kiosk operator will stop and attend to her colleague's needs, checking what exactly is needed, getting it for her friend and then handing it over when she arrives to reach over the waiting shoppers and collect the wares.  So, the fucking queue at the cigarette kiosk is held up while the person stops serving and gets stuff from the shelves for a cunt in the middle of the shop who is serving another cunt who can't be bothered to queue at the kiosk!  Fucking nuts!  They there was an issue with the computerised till being used by the cigarette gatherer, which meant extra diversion and delay for the kiosk worker - and customers.

As I watched this process unfold before my eyes this morning, I decided that the Co-op hasn't got a clue and never would have.  All of this would not have been a problem if the ratio of staff to customers were greater, and if extra input was via the second of the two tills in the kiosk.  Two staff in the kiosk serving and attending to the shoppers' needs in respect of Paypoint transactions, lottery, scratchcards and general purchases would have meant a 'fighting chance' of blood pressure in the bodies of people in the store staying somewhere below the level of "Cunting Catastrophic".

In front of me was a man who wanted a newspaper and a lottery ticket - the same as me.  In front of him, the bloke was in need of tobacco and a couple of other items, which in due course he paid for (£13) with a card.  In front of him a young lad who wanted a £1 ticket.  However, we were all rather held up by an old dear who was a fucking nightmare.  She was at the head of the queue when I joined it, and stayed there for ages, chatting while a ludicrous amount of shit was scanned and plonked on the counter by "Olive" from "On The Buses". Each item was then transferred to a clutch of carrier bags, while the loud conversation was shared by us all.  You'll not be interested in her early rise (as she had to be somewhere for 6am) nor will the roadworks and issues with road closures be of the slightest interest. The rest of the bollocks she imparted will not be mentioned in this account, as I have lost the will.  As she finalised her transaction and turned to leave, I was pleased to be fourth in the queue, and to see that the two chaps in front of me had almost nothing to be scanned in comparison to Ms Chatterbox.  The young chap acquired his ticket very quickly, but it was perhaps this purchase that led to further input from the talker.  She spoke once more, while stopping and turning around.   "Oh dear, I've forgotten my lottery!"  The stupid cow had joined the queue with loads of shopping and had managed to forget the one thing that had necessitated her joining the kiosk queue in the first place.  However, this was not what then caused concern for me.  I will explain.

As Ms Chatterbox stood near the head of the queue and peered towards me, she said: "Now, where will I be in the queue?"  This was clearly confirmation to us all that she'd not be rejoining the queue, but would be loitering and then stepping forward when her turn came around.  I did not take this as a hint in the slightest. However, the bloke two in front of me decided to respond, and he asked her if she wanted to go next.  NO!

Alas, she then got a second chance and started talking to Olive, explaining fuck-knows-what and thanking the bloke who let her back in.  BUT - it was NOT his place to let her go ahead of him, because he was also speaking for ME and the chap in front of me!  It was not his right to demote both of us as well as himself in a revised pecking order, to facilitate the stupidity of a pain-in-the-arse. The correct action would have been for him to ask the man behind him (and in front of me) as well as me, if either of us minded if Chatterbox was allowed to re-enter the fray and fuck about a bit more.  My human rights were abused by this bloke, and I thus resented him paying £13 with a credit card.  I may have to consider an approach to Strasbourg.

As I left the Cunt-op, I saw Ms Chatterbox holding audience in the bus shelter. Three people were on the receiving end of her further output, and with no bus in sight, they were fucked.  Meanwhile, I moved on at a brisk 8mph.

...

17.8.13 Flawed Advertising

Adverts on TV can occasionally be entertaining and/or impressive.  They can also be fucking annoying and flawed.

iphone

Yesterday I listened to the following sentence, after watching 30 seconds of self-congratulatory tosh from Apple about its iphone.

"Every day more photos are taken with the iphone."

This is a pointless sentence and any attempt to try and suggest that it portrays the iphone as something wonderful is futile and flawed when one considers just what is being said.  There is no claim at all that other types of phone are faring worse, and that they are used to a lesser extent.  The comparison does not in fact exist, although the marketing people are hoping that our brains do take us down such a path.  There is not, at the end of the statement, the phrase: "than on any other phone", which would mean Apple is actually claiming something. No, instead we are left with a statement that is as pathetic as "every second or so, my heart takes another beat".  Every day, a few more photos are taken on iphones is hardly something earth-shattering, and it certainly falls into the 'matter of fact' category rather than into some sort of advertisers all-time top ten of slogans. One could perhaps call this clever advertising, as it suggests a claim without actually making one.  Or, it's shit because it sidesteps the issue and allows me to pick a hole in the advert that is linguistically massive.

Pringles

They may well be 'bursting with flavour', according to the manufacturers, and if the visible proof of this were provided by a tube of Pringles bursting open, then that would at least make some sense.  But why the fuck does the advert show other grocery items on the shelves of a supermarket exploding all over the place? There is no logic at all in something in the fruit aisle or a packet of biscuits exploding (bursting) when it's allegedly the Pringles that are bursting with flavour.  Flawed and annoying.

Fairy Dishwasher Tablets

Why the fuck we're supposed to be that bothered about the performance of a dishwasher tablet I've no idea. Finish maintains it's the market leader, but Fairy Platinum is now apparently able to "solve the challenge". That's right, it seems dirty plates now present humans with a challenge that has to be solved.  I always thought that it was problems that were solved, not challenges; challenge is a more general term for the situation of "having to solve a problem" or something that is problematic.  So, I suggest that "solving the challenge of grease" is a shit concept that holds no water at all.  Grease is not a challenge - it's fucking grease!  'Fairy Fucking Platinum' is soap that deals with grease and the whole washing-up thing is NOT a sudoku!

McDonald's

There's an advert showing people in a park all eating a McDonald's meal, whilst lounging about in the nice weather.  It's the middle of the day, so supposedly lunch time.  What does not add up at all is the number of people who are eating at the same time - well over 100.  It is simply outrageous to think that 100 - 200 people could be eating at the same time, unless they all had lunch breaks of 2 hours (minimum) and most were prepared to eat cold food.  There would be no possible way to serve that many people quickly enough to allow them all to converge on an idyllic park and smile while eating.  A McFuck-up.

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16.8.13 Asda Offer of the Day

Yes, folks, you too can buy a yoghurt for 70p, or perhaps opt for buying two at £4.00.  Fucking nobs!

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12.8.13 Randomness

National Speed Limit

Some of you may think that the National Speed Limit in the UK is 60mph on a single carriageway, and 70mph on a dual carriageway.  Despite this being the supposed rule according to the Highway Code, the reality is rather different. The RNSL [Real National Speed Limit] is in fact "whatever the cunts in front want to do".  The decisions taken by those in front are sometimes simply pathetic or selfish, although sometimes drivers are constrained by those around them who dictate the pace of progress.  On a single carriageway, a large lorry is in fact supposed to travel at no more than 40mph.  This means that despite there being perfect driving conditions, and a good road, it may be that a lorry is the limiting factor.  This is almost certainly the case when any overtaking is impossible - a state of affairs often resulting from the driver of the vehicle behind the lorry being unable to overtake, or simply choosing not to whilst occupying space and preventing others from passing him/her.  So, a lorry followed by a useless nob will reduce the RNSL to 40mph.  Then there is the issue of caravans and motor homes, whose top speed is 'slow'.  This means and end result similar to the above.  What with useless drivers who insist on maintain 40mph on all road, regardless of the limit, the outcome is that 40mph is the RNSL.

Dual carriageways, you might think, would be better.  This is so, to a marginal degree, but there is increased danger for all.  Lorries are supposedly allowed to travel at 50mph, although they seem to ignore this and travel normally at 60mph - when they can.  I say this because most are limited to 50mph, or 56mph, making their presence on the road a complete nuisance to car drivers for 75% of the time.  They often delight in overtaking each other in manoeuvres which take three minutes, as a cunt doing 56mph passes a cunt doing 55mph. The erratic nature of slow vehicles pulling into the fast lane means that the risk of collision is multiplied massively.  Try driving on the M42 up to the M1 and you'll experience this shit.

Whitby

From May to September, there ought to be a ban on: dogs, prams, pushchairs and people with a BMI that indicates 'obese' or worse.  The streets are simply not big enough for fat cunts with their pets, and two fat kids in a double buggy. Get the bylaw sorted, Whitby Council!

Road Chippings

I am sick of lazy local authorities deciding that resurfacing a road (always belatedly) is a task that involves chucking down a few hundred tonnes of small grey stone chippings and letting cars do the work of making it stick to a thin layer of black glue.  The result is that I have to read warning signs about loose chipping, which is pathetic because this is a man-made problem.  I am then warned about the possibility of skidding - again, another hazard created by the council - while I chug along at a supposed 20mph!  This is the designated speed for us all managing not to skid or ping a passing cunt in the eye with a chipping.  It does not prevent cars from getting chipped to fuck, nor does it aid road safety.  Then, there's the ludicrous situation where the 20mph speed limit is suggested for the whole week after the last contractor in his hi-vis fucked off. We all know that on day one, that speed might be appropriate, but that by the fifth day, if you slow down to 20mph, a cunt will clump the back of your car with his 4x4 because you're going too slowly.  Fucking lazy councils!

Kitchen Devil

No, I am not a 'devil in the kitchen', as I am actually referring to the range of kitchenware that is predominantly sharp.  Yes, the knives that have the classic black handle and stainless steel blade.  I have a few of these in my kitchen, and in the main they've been purchased from Asda.  It so happened that last week I decided (on a flying visit) to pick up a sharpener, which was on offer, and extend the life of my knives.  With just a few items, I went to the self service checkout and expected, after five scans, to be leaving the noisy atmosphere.  Alas, I had not counted on being subjected to 'Checkpoint Charlie' tactics when trying to but a knife sharpener.  The till displayed the annoying news that my attempt at purchasing a small plastic device containing two minute wheels was akin to drug smuggling, and that before being allowed on my way, a plankter with super powers would have to do something to okay the purchase.  So, I waited like a death row prisoner for ages, until being attended to by one of the two plankton in the vicinity.  As we all know, plankton are incapable of swimming against a current, so I had simply to wait until one came around the circuit to tap the screen.

Why the fuck does a knife sharpener fall into a category that means intervention at the point of sale is necessary.  I was not a five-year-old buying glue (nor am I a five-year-old, period) and I'd resisted the urge to pick up some reduced tent pegs from the 'seasonal' aisle - implements that could really do some fucking damage!  I know this because you try taking one on to a plane and see how far you get!  So, a small plastic device was deemed dangerous.  I suspect it was because the coding linked the item to knives even though a wooden spatula is sharper.  So, more nanny state cuntism exemplified by Asda.  The tin of baked beans sailed through the scanning procedure and made its way to a carrier bag without concern.  This 400g lump would of course be rather useful as a weapon.  If you disagree, try standing against a wall (as in the stance adopted by the subject in a firing squad) and see how niggled you get when six soldiers throw tins of beans at your head and shins.  I think I've suitably demonstrated that beans are dangerous while knife sharpeners are placid things.

The Wanted

I think this band ought to be renamed "The Unwanted" considering their useless lyrics and poor taste.  The nauseating recent 'song' was a lesson in how to be more pathetic than the writer of 'Bob The Builder - Can We Fix It?' with:

'She can't sing, she can't dance, but who cares - she walks like Rihanna'

I am frustrated with more unnecessary exposure for Rihanna, who simply needs to hide somewhere for the next 35 years (without her fucking phone/camera and a Twitter account facility).  However, I am struggling to understand why her particular version of walking is any different from more than three billion other females.  If the only positive thing about Mrs MWSC were her ability to 'walk like Rihanna', then she'd have to go.  Let's hope (or not, depending on your viewpoint) that no accident befalls the singer and she acquires a limp, for that would make the single a poor taste record, no?  Oops, sorry, it's already in such poor taste that there's no real need to consider any category move in such an instance.

The Great British Bake Off

I am not a great fan, mainly because there are far too many programmes on TV that are obsessed with making food, especially as most people in the UK are more concerned about eating too much of it than making their own.  What I was most annoyed about (today) was that I saw amongst the shit that came with yesterday's Daily Mail (alongside the Coopers of Stortford magazine, the Virgin Media flyer and some other shit) a small booklet containing recipes from the new series that's about to start.  On the first page, Paul Hollywood referred to "Bezza" and after a second I realised he meant Mary Berry.  What a nob - I mean Paul Hollywood, not Mary Berry - and I cannot think of anything so pathetic and inappropriate than trying to label a 78-year-old with this stupid nickname.  The only similar approach I've ever encountered is the twattish reference to Andy Murray as "Muzza"; YUK.  While I'm at it, shame on you, PH, for dumping your wife and she is probably better off without you.

...

10.8.13 Premiership Cliches

With just a week to the start of the Premiership for 2013/14, we've had a taste of what's to come by way of the start of the other leagues in the UK, and the accompanying shite that's spouted by those in the media and within the football world.  Yes, folks, it's that time of year when we all have to clean out our ears and prepare to be assaulted by pundits, managers, players and twats, and process information relayed in what is arguably the most prominent league in the world.

This season, there will be no let up in the lengths to which managers will go to dress up their frustrations with the overpaid nobs who represent towns and cities across the country.  The favourite is still, of course, an expression of "disappointment".  I include the variants - "disappointed", "disappointing" and "disappoint" because whether the illiteracy of the manager shines through or he purposely mixes it up with linguistic flair, it always comes down to the same tired excuses and explanations.  If a reckless challenge by a cunt results in a red card, the manager will be "disappointed" with the player.  If the opponents draw level in the 92nd minute, the manager will express the "disappointment" that is in the dressing room, and "the lads" will of course be harbouring their disappointment while pocketing many thousands of pounds per week.

A stud on a boot that is travelling at 60mph at head height will connect with a nose, and the manager will be disappointed.  Meanwhile, I will be cunting livid that the arse wearing the boot isn't in prison for GBH.

Then of course there are the conundrums thrown up by players and managers that defy any analysis on a mathematical front.  I refer of course to effort in percentage terms.  Apparently some of the overpaid fuckers give 100% while others give 200%.  Some are at 150%, despite being only 70% fit.  Does the last figure mean the player does nothing for the last 27 minutes of the game, or that he manages to run at 21kmph instead of 30kmph? If a player is 70% fit, why does he get paid 100% of his wages?  Also, if any player at all is guilty of not giving 100% then why is he not sacked or charged for his wastage?  When a manager commends his players for their effort, it is an embarrassing fucking joke!  It's their cunting job!  They SHOULD be giving 100% and making a fucking effort for the few minutes per week that count!

Now to the main word that's the most overused one ever - "quality".  Every single interview includes this word, whether the other team had more of it, or the manager's team on this occasion was short of it - via the tired expression: "we lacked a little bit of quality".

Aside from the nauseating 'quality' references, there will be no end of managers' affirmations that they'll "take the positives", which is a euphemism for "we were shit but to save face, I will waffle on about how there were a few things to salvage that were not completely awful, and that'll do me".  How we let the tossers get away with this spin I do not know.  In my opinion, there are generally fucking few positive to take anywhere!

Then the twats in the studio will pontificate about "strength in depth" as though this 'commodity' is the b-all and end-all of life.  Twats!

Then we come to the mystical and actually mythical place where all good things live, including fairies, Santa Clause, and perhaps those who are one level up from qualifying for a place in heaven.  I refer, of course, to "The Final Third".  Yes, this place is a grotto where goals can magically appear, and dreams can come true.  Or, a place where fuck all happens, and the manager will try to explain after the match his players "had difficulty in the final third", as though the grass has somehow been replaced by quicksand in places, and hobgoblins come out of the ground to mount surprise attacks and put off players who are trying to score a goal.

I am far from running out of things to mention, although the subject is boring, of course.  We all know the following:

The lads played well. [That's so comforting, you arsehole]
They're a great bunch. [So are bananas, you nob]
It was the icing on the cake. [Not keen on icing, actually]
It's a game of two halves. [So is a peach or even a pint]
We set out our stall. [More shite]
He's not a malicious player. [This, about a cunt who almost breaks an opponent's leg]
He was quick to apologise. [As if this makes up for the above!]
He was a little bit late. [Fucking wayward and out of fucking order - a donkey on drugs]
It was a stonewall penalty. [Applied to handball appeals as well as a player imitating a stone wall]
Shearer, you thick illiterate twat. [That's my own commonly used (and warranted) phrase]

We've already had a taste of the crap, what with the other leagues all underway now, and there's nothing new on offer - just the same tired rubbish. I think there ought to be an 'alternative table' that properly shows teams who avoid all of the above at the top end, and those whose managers and players stick to the formulaic shit languishing at the bottom of the table.

..

10.8.13 Dire TV - Observations

After avoiding comment on the TV listings for a while, I pondered on last week's guide and the new one for this coming week that came with this morning's paper.  There are some odd entries and these serve as prompts for my own views and comments.

One thing I noticed about the style of the TV guide is the choice of fonts, and the line-breaks, which together with other factors can lead to misinterpretation. The most common double entendre stems from the 'possessive' meaning being switched to the apostrophe signifying a missing letter.  This gives us, as a sample of this genre:

Lorraine's Fast, Fresh and Easy
Food

The word 'food' saves the day in terms of accurate portrayal, although the word on the next line was read with disappointment by me as I'd rather hoped she'd be providing rather more entertainment!  Other examples are:

Russell Howard's Good News  [which is of course a matter of opinion]
Francesco's Italy Top to Toe  [is he, indeed!]
Nigel Slater's Dish of the Day  [not according to Mrs MWSC he isn't]
Stephen Fry's Key to the City  [actually he probably is!]
Rick Stein's India  [does India Fisher - her of the annoying as fuck voice-over on Masterchef - know about this identity theft?]

Elsewhere I found an opportunity to see how pairing consecutive programmes could lead to a rather more interesting schedule, especially on Quest - Freeview 38 - which would give us:

Hitler's Children Build, Buy or Restore?
Kings of Construction: Hitler- A Profile.
Storm Chasers Destroyed In Seconds
World's Strangest Outback Truckers

All improvements, I think you'll agree.  Other misleading programmes include today's offering) at 8pm on More4) Made In Italy: Top Ten Italian Dishes. This is unfortunately another fucking cooking programme and not a review of Italian crockery and pottery.

Another disappointment came when I saw the following listed for 7.30pm on 13th August on BBC2.

Wild Cameramen at Work

Instead of any fascinating insight into the behaviours of two wild men (Doug Anderson and Doug Allan) it is simply poor grammar in announcing a programme containing footage of animals etc. - shame, that.

Some programmes are just simply weird, shit or both, judging by the pathetic content.  How about these?

I Love My Country - surely the worst programme to be aired by the BBC for decades.
Homes Under the Hammer - which would be so much better if this was literally the case.
Mastermind - which last week allowed 'The Muppets' as a chosen specialist subject.
Tipping Point - Ben Shephard takes us to it so expertly, nauseatingly and far too regularly.

Storage Hoarders is on at 2pm on Monday 12th August.  If you'd ever wondered (me neither) what had happened to Aggi MacKenzie, she's pissing about on another dire show.  This one is going to provide scintillating viewing; here's the blurb: "Helping a postmistress who has filled a storage unit with possessions." If that doesn't tempt you, then you are not a moron after all.

Elsewhere, Don't Get Done, Get Dom is hard at it, with great content; here are a few of the offerings.

"Helping a couple whose conservatory has a damp problem."  [What about helping us with a 'Dom' problem?]

"A man who faced countless problems after buying a new front door."  [You can't get better than that!]

"A couple who want a refund for their car."  [What's wrong with it? I don't wonder]

"A couple with a collapsing driveway."  [Same couple, and car too heavy, perhaps?]

Other Lowlights for This Week

FRI 7.55pm (Channel 4) 4thought.tv
A couple have their cat cremated, which they believe provides proper closure for them and a dignified end for the animal.  [That's all very well, but I hope it's dead and not just something for the couple to do on a wet weekend]

THU 7.30pm (ITV) Food Facts & Fiction: Tonight - The Health Traps
Jonathan Maitland investgates the nation's obesity problem and the physical impact of unhealthy food, [so far so good] while chef Simon Rimmer finds out what is in children's lunch box.  [Well, the second half of this long-titled programme sounds rather worrying and dodgy to me!]

WED 7.00pm (Channel 5) Emergency Bikers
A man is reported to be wielding an axe, and a mother is seen breastfeeding her baby in the back seat of a moving car.  [How atrocious!  She should be imprisoned and the kid put into care!  Have we sunk so low now that this minor action is treated as newsworthy, let alone content for a shit show.]

WED 8.00pm (ITV) How Not to Get Old
Louise Redknapp reviews anti-ageing gadgets and learns about some unusual exercises, Anna Richardson tests non-invasive jowl treatment, and a woman considers breast surgery.  [I am intrigued by Louise's gadget and 'exercises', but what-the-fuck is 'non-invasive jowl treatment' then?  Sounds too much like 'bowel' and is probably no more than rubbing a chin.  As for the last part, the 'woman' considering surgery is obviously not well known, what with not being named like the other two.]

MON 9.00pm (Channel 5) Big Brother
The housemates nominate again.  [For 'nominate' read 'masturbate' - they are all wankers.

SUN 11.05pm (BBC1) That Puppet Game Show
Family entertainment show in which two celebrities, beginning with Jonathan Ross and Katherine Jenkins, compete in a number of challenges hosted by a group of puppets.  [What shit, with two shits.]

So. there you have it, a general view of the dire state of television.  Last week it was worse for the simple reason that Jeremy Wade appeared between the two Coronation Street episodes on Friday (yesterday) in a REPEAT of his River Monsters shit - prime time television churning out not just shit from a twat, but repeated shit from a twat!

...

4.8.13 ASDA - A Shit Display Again

All I wanted was some Clover - a simple 250g tub of Clover.  The ticket said £2.00 but was crossed out, superseded by an 'offer' and a new price tag of £1.50.  I was prepared to pay this sum, but was denied the opportunity.  Why?  Because fucking ASDA was fucking out of stock.  Yes, there was a gap on the shelf in the chilled section where tubs of Clover used to live.  Alongside the gap was a 'gathering' [I've no idea what the collective noun for Clover is] of Clover Light.  This made perfect sense to me, especially when I realised that the Clover Light was also on sale at £1.50.

It made sense because around 60% of the shoppers in the ASDA were overweight, and not interested in anything 'light'.  They ranged from 'overweight' to 'cunting fat', and included the usual 'obese' classification somewhere in the middle.  As if proof were needed that people in general are overweight, and that shoppers in ASDA are severely overweight, Clover-gate confirmed it.  The display of the lightweight variety was completely full - untouched by human paws or fat fucking fingers.  It was pristine and would have won an award for its aesthetic qualities. Millimetres away was the gap that replaced a similar display of normal Clover.  I deduced [not 'deducted' like a thick cunt said on TV last year] that no one is interested in the lightweight variety.  So, why does the stuff even get made?  Why is the stuff even stocked by ASDA?  Why are the quantities and space allocation the same for both types in an ASDA store? Why the fuck was ASDA out of stock when it knows damn well it ought to cater for the buying habits of its customer?

All of the above questions serve also to confirm that the policies of the government (nanny state) are flawed as well, and that forcing people to accept shit is not going to work.  Removing the good stuff from Mars Bars a few years ago meant I instantly disliked them, and no longer eat them.  Sugar Puffs suffered a similar attack by the CIC* and for many years I've not eaten them following the removal of what I considered to be a rather key ingredient - sugar! When the essence of any product is tampered with or removed, there's no fucking point in buying it.

We all know that the international unit of measurement for a Crispy Pancake is 57.5 grammes.  Why else would the product now be sold in boxes of four, weighing 230 grammes?  There is only one reason for 230g being more appropriate than 250g - that's extra profit for the manufacturers.  Seeing them in the freezer cabinet brought back memories of harder times, when this fodder was all I could afford.  In those days, the size of a Crispy Pancake was rather larger; AND, the cheese and bacon variety DID NOT have sweetcorn included!

"No thank you" was my response when asked if I needed any help with my packing.  I an able bodied and more than capable of packing food into carrier bags.  However, this is only in fact the case if there are enough fucking bags provided.  Within a minute I'd filled the four bags provided, and 'Ms Anorexia 2013' continued to shovel my purchases down the chute despite my lack of bags.  I stood while she build a scale model of 'Witch Mountain' and wondered how long it would take her to realise she was a twat.  It took her till the last item was scanned, and a further three bags were then brought out from under the counter.  If she'd brought out anything else from 'under the counter' (circa 1988) I might have been both interested and pleasantly surprised, but a few more shit bags did not light up my day.

Last week ASDA had no garlic for sale.  Today there were just two overpriced bags of new potatoes available, and I was forced to pick up one of them.  The cheaper variety was not even stocked.  I saw one dimwit pointing to a checkout with a big hand on the end of a pole, something that now qualifies as gainful employment.  Since allegedly landing on the moon [which of course never fucking happened] we have as a society progressed to pointing at a space and marvelling at a space.

The 8-can £4.20 pack of Sprite was down to £2.50 while the 2-litre bottle was up from £1.00 to £1.98, but with an offer of "2 for £3.00".  Cunting fucking mind games and bollocks, while ripping off customers.  In Spain, at Mercadona, the standard price for a bottle of 7 Up is ONE EURO - permanently!  Why does the UK insist on fucking about with basics and fleecing customers?

I left the shop with the disappointment that comes with discovery that the offer on beer has finished, and that on the plus side, whilst I worry about a belly that's bigger than it was, there are fat fuckers everywhere to make me feel rather better about myself.  As for ASDA, I admitted to Mrs MWSC that I would have been happier giving my money to the Cunt-Op.  The Cunt-Op is allegedly "Good With Food" while ASDA does not so much "Roll Back Prices" as "Fuck Me Off".

* [CIC = Cunts In Charge]

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3.8.13 The National Lottery: Break The Safe

I had the misfortune this evening to stumble upon the pointless BBC1 programme that is extravagantly and flamboyantly named, "The National Lottery: Break The Safe" hosted by Nick Knowles.  I missed the beginning, but sadly had not missed enough of this twaddle.  The three pairs of contestants were of course hoping to win some money - money that was donated by (or should that actually be 'extorted from') us licence fee payers.  Yes, the money we contribute to the BBC is wisely spent on a ludicrously extravagant TV set, and Nick's fee for his presenting stint.  I suspect that the deal includes his 'Just For Men' hair dye as well.

Nick managed a few howlers and the first I clocked was just before the dimmest of the three pairs was eliminated.

"Dionne and Sonia, I don't need to remind you you need to bring up your game if you want to stay in the game."

I kid you not; this was exactly what he said to them, and he did so with speech that slowed during delivery as he realised he was talking shite.  A minute later he was working out, while we listened and watched, that Dionne and Sonia were going home.  The forced interest in whether they'd had a good time was obvious, and there was simply nothing to say.  So, Nick managed just:

"It feels like you haven't been with us very long."

It was long enough, Nick, and some might say far too long.  He then proceeded to give another update on the countdown to the finale of this 'entertainment' and advise on the minutes and seconds to go before it was time for the winners to have a go at breaking the safe.  This was equally as annoying as the time checks delivered by Davina in Million Pound Drop.  When I watch a programme between 9.30pm and 10.30pm, I DO NOT NEED fucking time checks every few minutes to prove I know what I am doing and when!

So, with two pairs of contestants left, I had to listen to the crappy rules of the game, and find out from the contestants which two were going to be 'at the front' and which two would be 'at the back'.  This was important because the one at the front would answer first.  What I could never have envisaged was the PATHETIC means by which the switch would come about.  I was fully expecting that in each pair, one would take a single step forward and the other would position himself/herself one pace to the side and behind.  Even in Pointless, the pairs manage to co-ordinate themselves in this fucking fashion. However, in National Lottery: Break The Safe the contestants are not expected to take one step forwards or backwards.  Instead, the BBC has spent more of my money to create a tiny moving platform for each.  I watched in amazement as, to background music, two people glided forward less than one metre while their partners glided back the same distance.  I can almost envisage some cunt in the set design department introducing a Stannah Stairlift for the next series.

The two pairs were each on a score of £4000 after getting their first questions right.  The two firefighters then got the second one wrong.  Nick helped me understand the gravity/significance of the situation with another mind-blowing piece if information.

"Let's cross over to Holly and James; you're in a position to take the lead here if you get this question right!"  (Dohhh!)

With the clock at 16 minutes and 43 seconds, the next 'switch' was undertaken, and music helped us pass the time - all three seconds of it.  After another couple of questions, Nick explained what a weird noise meant.

"That sound means we're 13 minutes and 45 seconds to releasing the final lock."

I took my brain out of the top of my head, removed about 26 grammes (equivalent to the weight of a Curly Wurly) and ate it with the full knowledge that I'd not need it to continue watching and understanding this shite.  Holly and James left with nothing, other than a small amount of pride after Nick convinced them they were indeed proud of themselves.  I wondered if therapy was the consolation prize, after losing out on the chance of many thousands of pounds.  The build-up to the safe-breaking was then underway, with the two colleagues from the fire service [which is surely a stupid term because they do not serve us with fire] trying to win money - more from the licence payers subscriptions.  Nick was not causing me to regret the loss of 26 grammes, and I reckoned I could lose another 26g without detriment to my understanding of the show, after I heard his next gem.

"The money's only available for one second - that's not long."

Thanks, Nick; about one fucking second, I think you'll find!  I then wondered whether Nick gets this obsessed when he buys something from Ebay.  Every couple of minutes, an announcement about the time left.  So, Emma and Tommy were in the final, and my faith in human ability was shaken even further when Tommy was asked: "Cerulean and Duck Egg are shades of which colour?"  I obviously expected "Blue" to be the next word my ears would grab from the TV speakers.  No.  "Yellow."

Emma was a bit better, knowing the answer to a rather easy question on a Fosbury Flop.  She gave her answer but that was not enough for Nick.

Emma: "High jump"
Nick: "You're saying 'High jump?'"

Yes, you turnip - why the fuck would she have said 'High jump' if she meant 'blind cunt's buff', you nob?  I'd have been more impressed with Emma is she'd replied in the same style as Nick.

Emma: "You're saying 'You're saying "High jump?"'"

After a break to get the lottery numbers (a minor diversion from what is clearly supposed to be a more important aspect of the night, despite the reason for the existence of the programme being highly questionable) we returned to find out whether they'd won the £45,000 for being able to count 30 seconds in their heads to within three seconds of the exact time.  A chimp could do that, so yes, the two chimps won. Meanwhile, I lost about half an hour of my life and 26g of brain cells - more than the entire amount shared between the contestants and Nick Knowles.

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3.8.13 Big Boobs and Bollocks

More Flannel From Flanagan

So, Helen Flanagan comes out with yet more complete bollocks, this time about her own boobs.  Her most recent quote?

"I have the best boobs I've ever seen on anyone in the world.  Ever.  They are amazing."

There is, however, one big problem with this outburst, aside from my contention that her boobs are in fact far from ideal.  I do appreciate that this is a rather subjective view and that some men may in fact like the look of the bulbous lumps that she leads with, and so for this reason I will move on to the much more important flaw in the whole hypothesis.  Even assuming that the boobs themselves (which of course have a higher IQ than their owner - each, mind, not combined!) are indeed wonderful, the real downfall is one of geography; they are so in the wrong fucking place.  Attached to anything else, they may be worth some attention, but where they are is more than enough to ensure they are available at far too high a price to anyone invited for a closer look.  The package includes the wondrous mutterings and strange outlook of their mistress, who sadly gets far too much attention, attention that's inversely proportional to her allure.  So, like a holiday home at the end of a runway, or a 5-Star hotel next to a sewage works, or bacon in a vegan's fridge, geography is everything.

Mobile Clothes Horses

Once upon a time it was possible to see an occasional cyclist on the road. More often this would be a male, although there was a splattering (not literally) of women and children.  [I note there was never a shortage of women and children, as they were always the first to be saved.]  A racing bicycle was the preferred model, with its streamlined design, and an athletic user would usually conform to this aesthetic and perhaps sport some lycra to aid forward motion. Then the world started to go bonkers.  Through various stages, we have arrived at a rather sorrier state of affairs - something that needs urgent attention.  Just like the 'evolution' drawings that show man's development over hundreds of thousands of years, one could depict the evolution of the cyclist.

There would be stages to highlight incremental change, each coming at the expense of any actual development but instead showing degeneration.  The rider moves from an athletic and healthy individual to a fat cunt.  The bike moves from a sleek piece of apparatus to a chunk of metal with wide handle bars.  The gear usage switches from appropriate to a permanently engaged low gear.  The road-sense diminishes, so that the wobble factor increases all the time.  Mixed with the continued loss of mental awareness and common sense, the distraction of phones and ipods, and the assumption that cyclists own the road, we are left with today's specimen, just like the chap I passed last week. Overweight, legs going round too quickly, wobbling all over the lace, handlebars and arms sticking out, travelling on a 60mph narrow road without a fucking care in the world, let alone concern that he was asking to be killed with his imitation of a fucking clothes horse on wheels taking up half the carriageway.  Still, at least he was not a complete cunt, because he did not have his mate with him riding two abreast!

Shit That Simply Shouldn't Be Allowed

1. Use of the word "emcee" instead of 'MC'.  What's worse is that we're now subjected to this crap in verb form, so people have apparently "emcee'd". Shite.
2. Kevin Bacon.
3. Existence and use of the expression "chillax".
4. Twats who refer to dates in the UK as, for example, "July third" or even worse, "July three."  The word "the" is conventional, needed and fucking well expected in this country!  As for reference to a simple fucking number, that's criminal and American.  Ordinal not cardinal!
5. Use of the phrase "locked in" by pathetic hosts who try to make the receiving of a cuntestant's answer rather more technical than it is.  This is sometimes preceded (as in the style of Dale Winton) by a ludicrous question back to the cuntestant who's just answered, asking, "Would you like me to take that as your answer?"  No, you twat, I want you to ignore what I just said and spontaneously combust!  Anyway, having received (and verified) an answer, the host often pisses about telling us that it's "locked in", most recently Davina McCall on Million Pound Drop, the show where it's actually almost impossible to win £1M, and more likely that if you win anything at all, it will be £25k or 50k. "Locked in" indeed!  Pathetic, just as pathetic as the painful and dire questions like: "What would £20,000 mean to you?" and "What would you spend the money on?"  Which of us gives a cuntin' fuck?  Certainly not me, and I rather think the host doesn't ever give half a toss either.
6. The reckless disposal of chewing gum.  Quite simply, anyone who spits out their gum in a urinal should be made to pick it back out again with their teeth and/or lips.  Anyone who spits it out anywhere else for birds to eat or people to tread on should be given Chinese Burns on both wrists daily for 60 days, for every piece of gum spat out.
7. The term "wantaway" or "want-away" should be banned from journalism indefinitely.
8. Contactless cards.

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1.8.13 July Quotes of the Month

1   -  "She is not a woman with a mouth, but a mouth with a woman."  [Pi, reference Sian Lloyd]

2   -  "I don't think I could live without a handbrake."  [Jess, to TMWSC ref new cars that don't have one]

3   -  "It was a fragment of my imagination."  [Julie]

4   -  "Aly's food is better than pork pie."  [Pi, less than impressed with a pork pie, rather than 'complementing' Aly]

5   -  "Fucking sticks!"  [Pi, dispensing with chopsticks after five seconds]

6   -  "It's what they do."  [Liam, to a confused (and Luddite) TMWSC who had announced with surprise, "It's finished!" after the computer had completed its inaugural burning of a disc]

7   -  "I have a cock in my throat."  [A non-English national who mispronounced 'cough']

8   -  "What's that big roll of cotton wool for?"  [Old lady in Tesco, whose companion said: "No, dear, it's a duvet]

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