28.2.14 Asda Exercise Regime

Most people, especially those with knowledge of the financial sector, will be of the opinion that AER stands for Annual Equivalent Rate, which is generally linked to financial products and accounts where interest is paid over shorter periods (typically every six months).  The AER is of interest (pun intended) to those wanting to compare rates.  However, in my world, AER stands for the Asda Exercise Regime.

The advent of this phenomenon has not been strongly publicised - in fact an element of stealth has applied.  There can be no doubt, however, that Asda has broadened its remit, and aside from the tangential businesses that carry the ASDA logo, there's been a subtle and silent development that now affects all shoppers; let me explain, and categorise the various aspects of the AER.

Arms & Core Strength

The first parts of the body to get a workout are the arms, and this links in with further benefits to core strength.  The workout comes by way of the effort to deal with the trolley, admittedly  to a limited degree during the entry to the shop unless you've been fortunate enough to select a shopping trolley that's fucked. The "warm up" that the trolley manoeuvring provides is a useful first step to the challenges to come.

During the exit phase, after leaving the supermarket, the fully loaded trolley provides its toughest level of exercise, as you try to avoid the many parked cars, and alternate the force applied to the crossbar of the trolley from the right side to the left side, steering as best you can.

Leg Muscles and Balance

A recent change in the store layout has led to a much improved workout for the legs, and for those with the slightest wobble.  Ankle joints get a bit of use as well during what might be described as "The Squat".  The more observant of you will almost certainly have noticed the revised store layouts (which have swept the country over the last year) have caused a change in the display of DVDs in all but the smaller Asda stores.  Instead of the helpful and visible displays, we are now expected to select films from three main horizontal sections, each of which has four rows of DVDs.  The consequence of this development is that unless you're as tall as fucking Mother Theresa, there' no way to see the back two rows of DVDs in the bottom section.

Instead of adopting a comfortable and relaxed shopping position, it is necessary to crane one's neck to see the first two rows, low down, and actually squat if one is in any way bothers to inspect what's for fucking sale on the back two rows of DVDs in the lower of the three sections.  This means that at any given moment, the casual observer (along with the security staff via the overhead cameras) will see a number of people all squatting, and walking with a stupid wiggle while on their haunches, fucking their ankles and getting annoyed.  At some point (the point where their tolerance of such a fucking pathetic shopping position is exceeded) they will necessarily stand - or try to. It is this act which provided the most demanding of exercise contained within the AER.

The comedic value of this element of the regime is not lost on me, and I today managed a low-level waddle towards a woman who was similarly positioned, looking at what was available to buy.  Calf muscles antagonised, and quadriceps mullered, I moved on with my arm exercises, pushing the trolley towards the freezer section.

Stretching

The freezers are more commonly now the vertical type, with a general move away from the 'chest' style.  As part of the AER, we are expected to open doors and with outstretched arms, lean forward and select items.  This reaching is ensuring movement of more muscles as we shop for cold stuff. The lazy approach is retained to a limited degree, as there's often now little in this part of the store that's kept in a chest freezer, from which anyone could pick thinks up after leaning against the front of the 'trough' and gaining extra support.

Lifting 

The general lifting opportunities used to exist mainly in the beer section, where boxes and crates of booze, whether canned or bottled, would require some exertion on the part of the shopper.  This lifting was another calorie burner for shoppers, and to this day it remains the main way for us to engage in lifting. However, the relatively recent move towards 'self service' means that we now have much more work to do.  Yes, Asda is slowly but surely redeploying staff, and reducing the number of checkout options that involve an Asda member of staff.

Once upon a time it was a straight choice between the normal checkout lane, and the one for "9 Items or Fewer" - although the word "Less" was mistakenly used by most cunts in charge.  These days, there are two extra options - both unmanned/unwomaned.  The self-service scanning points, and the more cumbersome self-checkout lanes.  The latter are collectively a cunt-and-a-half to use, and they represent the retailers outrageous nerve, though the expectation that we will scan ourselves the £87 worth of stuff we've lifted from the trolley!  We are to lift stuff from shelves and pallets and put it in a trolley, then take the same stuff out and put it on a conveyor, then lift it over a scanner, then put it in the trolley again, and then lift it into a car.  That's some fucking workout, and the highest level of demand (the DVD squats are a close second) in the overall Asda Exercise Regime.

Heart Rate & Blood Pressure

Before leaving the store, though, there's a chance for shoppers to be put through their paces by the various 'challenges' that lead to stress and frustration.  These are commonly provided in the form of obstacles in aisles and at the end of aisles, so that the space available for trolley-pushers is restricted. This, together with the twats who decide to stop suddenly for an impulse buy, and the various communal gatherings (when people who know each other stop to have a chat while occupying valuable space) mean there is ample opportunity for a rise in head rate and blood pressure, as 'trolley rage' kicks in. The sheer frustration means the body is threatened with stress.  This is designed so that shoppers get acclimatised to traumatic situations, and learn to cope with the complete fucking cunting madness that exists in stores.

The real challenges are provided to shoppers who've either decided to shop at 'replenishment times' or have been unlucky enough to arrive during maximum replenishment activity.  Asda trolleys full of extra stock or full of waste/cardboard from stock that's just been put on display provide extra obstacles for shoppers with trolleys.  There are of course many other frustrations, for example:

•  a "three-for-two" offer but only two items are left on display
• staff who get in the way, and are oblivious to customers, as they fuck about straightening yoghurts and packs of ham
• queuing
• unscannable barcode that lead to a staff member have to locate a replacement product
• checkout workers who are somehow employed whilst being delinquent

Slalom 

This is linked in many ways to overcoming the frustrations of the points above, under 'Heart Rate and Blood Pressure'.  The manoeuvrability of trolleys (of various weights) is dependent of the abilities of the pusher combined with the quality of the wheels/steering, and the load size.  The dawdlers and cunts in the way, along with baskets of shit on display in aisles, and massive containers of eggs strategically dotted around the store, all serve to create one giant slalom course.

Mental Exercise

This is to help older people try and keep their brains active, according to Asda, but investigation has revealed that in most cases, the customers are simply being ripped off.  Keeping mentally active will allow customers to deal with the shit thrown their way via the supposed 'offers' on goods.  If they exercise frequently, then it will soon become second nature to avoid the 1kg packs of Clover available in Asda at £3.70, and instead buy two 500g packs of Clover at £1.50 each.  This simple approach saves 70p on the exact same amount of Clover, while actually buying more easily manageable portions.  Once shoppers have got to this stage, they will most likely be able to cope with the Sudoku in The Sun, and move up to the real challenges in Asda stores, such as the High Juice fiasco.

I suspect there's either been a harvest failure worldwide, or a lack of interest in people foraging or picking fruit and berries.  Otherwise, how else can one explain the rise in the price of Summer Fruits High Juice. For over a year, the 1 litre bottles have been £1.49 or "two for £2.50".  I have thus been purchasing two litres every so often, and have been pleased with this arrangement.  With nothing on Mail Online, in The Sun, or on television news about problems with fruit harvests, I suspect a move (unwarranted) by Asda has been made for opportunistic reason rather than necessity.  After such a very long time, the multi-buy has changed to "three for £4".  This will be confusing to anyone who has solved neither the Clover Enigma at Asda, or a Sudoku in The Sun. 

Clearly the hope from Asda is that people will work out that three bottles is supposedly worth £4.47 and so for an outlay of £4.00, there's a "saving" of 47p, and thus a net price, in effect, of £1.33.  The non-regular drinkers of High Juice will not appreciate that the previous offer meant an effective price per bottle of just £1.25, and that three bottles should really be on sale for a total of £3.75. So, shoppers at Asda are now expected to outlay £4.00 at once, and pay 25p extra, an increase of 6.7% for no good reason.  Working all this out might just be a little more exercise for the mind than the Sudoku solvers can manage - unless they opt for the hardest one (occasionally termed "toughie").

Eyesight

For good measure, there a workout for the eyes, courtesy of the dimwit holding the "big finger" labelled "Space Here" at the checkouts.  This mean that those who are alert and have good eyes are able to spot the supposed best lane, although if two shoppers clock it simultaneously, there's the added advantage of a race, and a bonus feature of the AER.

The final element of the Asda Exercise Regime is the "Trolley Return" and the effectiveness is wholly dependent upon the proximity of the plastic shed that forms the drop-off point.  Dexterity is tested in a random way, depending on the tenacity of the coin-holding part of the contraption; some pound coins are not given up very easily by the metal trolleys.  Loading shopping to a car burns a few more calories, and after this, there's the drive home for relaxation.  The AER is certainly demanding, and is in fact essential if the fat shoppers are to stand any chance at all of not piling on the weight after devouring 3 tons of Smart Price shite per week.

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24.2.14 Wanky Up-sell of the Week

Scene

Sports goods shop, trainers section.  TMWSC is looking at the Hi-Tec display trainer.  Within touching distance are two members of staff - a chap with a walkie talkie, talking (not on the walkie talkie) to a young woman who was without a walkie talkie, but talking to the man.  There is no other shopper in the store, and the two assistants were happy talking and not too interested in TMWSC, although his presence is acknowledged because they had to move in order that he could get to see the Hi-Tec retailing at £21.99

Male Assistant: "Are you okay there?"
TMWSC: "Have you got this in a size 10 please?"

The chap decides to talk into the walkie talkie.  The female has stopped talking while this goes on.  There is no answer to his request, so he turns to the female assistant.

Male Assistant: "Could you go upstairs and get these in a ten?"

The female assistant leaves to go upstairs, resting her throat.

Male Assistant: "Do you need any socks to go with them today?"
TMWSC: "No ta - you are joking, aren't you?  That's the funniest up-sell I've heard this year!"

The chap looks a bit sheepish and has nothing to say.  After a few seconds, during which his brain cells regroup, he engages once more, just as TMWSC starts to edge away, towards the till.

Male Assistant: "Will you be trying them on?"
TMWSC: "No, they'll be fine - this must be the 25th pair of these I've bought."
Male Assistant: "Okay; she'll be down in a sec and will take them to the checkout."

TMWSC edges away slowly again, heading towards the far corner.  The chap has had time to think of another approach.

Male Assistant: "While we're waiting, have you thought of blah blah blah, which cushion the foot, blah blah?"

TMWSC managed to catch some vague detail about 'gel' and an insert, although he hadn't actually realised the assistant was accompanying him in a 'waiting' state, as he was moving away from the footwear area en route to the till.

TMWSC: "If I've bought more than 25 pairs, don't you think I'd have established by now if I need an insert.  No thanks."

In the corner of the shop, a sour-looking female was busying herself with something that was non-productive as TMWSC neared.  He stopped and gave his attention to his phone, during the wait for the return from outer space of the female assistant shoe-hunter [not quite the same ring to it as 'Vampire Slayer' or 'Whale Watcher'].  The wait extended to a further two minutes, after which came further interaction.  She appeared from an opening to the left side of the counter, holding a brown box, and clocked the presence of TMWSC

Female Assistant: "Don't you want to try them on?"
TMWSC: "No thanks, they'll be all right."
Female Assistant: "Okay.  Size 10."

She passed the brown box to the non-smiling cashier, who opened the lid, took out one trainer, and spoke without any eye contact.

Cashier: "Size 10?"
TMWSC: "Yep."

TMWSC wondered whether she might have been suited to helping a surgeon, as her talent of repeating as a form of checking details was astounding.  ['Scalpel, Clamps . .' ]  The conscientiousness was amusing, and he wondered whether a time traveller would have been able to muscle in during the handover of the brown box, to replace the trainers with an alternative pair as a spoof, perhaps in a size 5.  As it was, the Female Assistant had stated "Size 10" as the box found the hand of the Cashier, and this was still the size of the footwear upon the box being opened.  

After confirming 'Size 10', TMWSC put £22 on the counter, as Brunhilde [made up name] bagged the box.  Fortunately she did not feel the need to confirm that the other trainer he was midway through purchasing was a 'Size 10' - perhaps she assumed he'd be happy that both were the same size.  She handed him a penny along with the box in a carrier bag.

TMWSC: "Thank you."

As he was negotiating the stupidly packed shop floor, and whirling around the mixture of circular and oblong rails, TMWSC spotted the Male Assistant. There was a very slight suggestion that he had not finished having input, as he raised an eyebrow and tried to catch the eye of TMWSC.  Fearful of another attempt at an up-sell, TMWSC went anti-clockwise round the final rack of shite, and exited the shop.

...

24.2.14 Fur Fox Sake!

For Fuck's Sake - I thought we were supposed to be civilised, and had made some progress in avoiding wearing real fur.  The fur trade is simply not acceptable, and yet it has seen a recent growth of phenominal proportions.

There are far too many so-called 'celebrities' who are keen to promote fur, and have no shame at all.  This is a serious 'about turn' after the real progress towards the end of the last century.  In the last ten years, fur has made its way back into fashion, and the 'anything goes' society in which we now live is one that adulates stars and applauds just about everything they do.  The minute some cunt or other does something, it's on Twitter or Facebook or in the Press, and there are opportunities via advertising to mimic the arses.  This applies more to fashion than anything else.  The copycat culture is pathetic and in some cases vile rather than simply sad.

Rita Ora (who is at the top of my list for overexposure in recent weeks) is an example of someone pleased to be wearing real fur and without any interest in what signals it sends.  She's not alone at all.  Kate Moss, Jennifer Lopez, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Madonna.  They are all at it, and there are many, many more.

Perhaps the saddest example, though, comes by way of the coat worn by Harper Beckham.  Does a two-year-old kid really need to wear a coat that has a dead animal stitched into the lining and around the edge of the hood?  Only if the parents are stupidly rich, and want to send out a message that wearing animal fur is an acceptable, in fact good, thing to do.

Take the kids to see the animals as they are dying and giving their skins and coats.

As for the fashion industry, the likes of Prada, Chanel, Burberry, Fendi, Marmara, Jaeger and Joseph (to name but a few) should be ashamed of themselves.  Despicable capitalism, and a sure sign that there are no ethics in modern life.

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24.2.14 Gentlemanly Conduct in Football!

Well, at last something to suggest that in the world of modern football, not every player is a self-serving prick, content to gain from mistakes while spending most of his time screaming for decisions to go his team's way, or appealing to the referee without just cause.  At last, an example of a player who would prefer things to be correct.

Galatasaray defender Semih Kaya put right a referee's error by telling him that the ball had hit his foot, and the goal kick should in fact be a corner kick for the opposition, Besiktas.  Honourable, and a good example.  Usually, keepers never admit to touching the ball if they can get a goal kick, and players simply try to con officials yet manage to moan about the decisions afterwards. Sportsmanship is a rarity in football, despite all the pathetic handshakes at the start of games.

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24.2.14 Pit Bulls

Under new laws due this year, owners whose dogs kill or injure a person will face up to 14 years in jail.  The current maximum is 2 years.  Whilst judges and magistrates are mostly fucking wimps, and manage to avoid giving anywhere near the maximum sentence to anyone (and/or suspending it) there is at least some proper recognition of the dangers and abuse of dogs with such a hike in the penalty - if anyone can ever prove that the owner was actually responsible for a specific incident.

How then does it make sense for the penalty to be pathetic for those who breed dangerous dogs.  Breeders of banned dogs face up to six months in prison or a maximum fine of £5,000.  So, they would not be jailed, despite unleashing (pun fucking well intended!) on society banned dogs, and would be fined a couple of grand, to be paid at £10 per week out of benefits, probably. This practice needs stopping, so it makes perfect sense to me that the penalty for breeding dangerous dogs should be rather  more than 2 years.  If breeding a Pit bull is illegal, and thus those who do so are knowingly breaking the law, then what is wrong with a 10-year tariff?

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24.2.14 Get A Grip Osborne!

The UK is in a fucking mess, people who've suffered in the floods are angry, cuts in spending are announced daily, the coalition is a joke because of the spineless and wet Liberal Democrats, and the cost of living has got much higher in the last few years.  Then the government decides to meddle in the affairs of other countries as though it still runs an empire, and is either sending troops or giving money away.  The foreign aid budget is simply out of control, while councils are filming and fining citizens to try and raise money to pay for the massive costs of housing for the poor and for immigrants, and to cover the bloated salaries of council chiefs who achieve fuck all.

Now we have George Osborne being a dick with his mad comments on the problems of Ukraine.  Horrendous as they no doubt are, they are problems that demand sympathy but not money.  45 million people in 233,000 square miles is rather a large beneficiary for Osborne's madness.  We have 65 million people squashed on to 93,000 square miles.  Everyone on the fucking planet wants to come here for homes, jobs and benefits, and we seem powerless to stop most of them, as our rules of fairness (which fly in the face of economic sense) are determined partly by useless cunts in charge, and partly by the pathetic ceding of power to the European Union.  So, on top of the dire straits we are heading for (and please be assured that whatever the economists say, things will NEVER get better than they are because for every step forward in one respect, there will be a shuffle backwards on numerous other aspects) Mr Osborne has decided we are rich enough (!) to start bailing out other nations.

The "money is not an object" statement by Cameron regarding the flood victims and costs of sorting out the mess was proven to be a rather pointless one, with people scurrying along afterwards trying to explain that it's not a 'blank cheque' that's been offered.  How the fuck, then, can Osborne be in any position to help 45 million non-tax payers?  The outrageous corruption in Ukraine has been disastrous for a nation with natural resources that dwarf anything in the UK. The news and pictures from Ukraine are awful, and the world does of course need to do something, but the power struggles involve Russia so deeply that whatever is done to help, it will prove pointless unless Russia gives up trying to rule by proxy, or dictate to the leaders of Ukraine how the country should be governed.  Picking a fight with Russia is noble, but a bit silly from your desk in London.

George, just to let you know, the citizens of the UK believe there is a limit to what we can do and what we can pay for, so please choose carefully.  There are hundreds of countries which could probably do with some money, and thousands of good causes - some of them actually in this bloody country!  You are swanning around like you're Howard Hughes overseeing a local town, not a skint Chancellor of a tiny country which is fucked beyond belief, but which you represent as a country happy and willing to shoot itself in the foot while feeding its fingers into a mincer.

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23.2.14 No Justice Yet Again

Every single day there's a new case that proves how fucking useless the UK is, and how justice simply does not exist in the UK.  I have no idea why the cunts who are supposed to hand out sentences are so fucking useless and wet.  The public is in no way concerned about criminals getting sentences that are too harsh - where does the sentencing stupidity come from.  The contrary is true - that the British public is sick and fucking tired of reading about the lameness of the judges and magistrates, who are hell cunting bent on making allowances for cunts, whether they are "of previous good character", or "drink" or "stoned" or "depressed" or "pregnant" or "fat".  Elsewhere, the CPS is simply a cunting 'joke' of an entity.  The latest attack on an innocent victim is shown below.

Christopher Collins was minding his own business when 18-year-old Jay Lloyd attacked him, as did an unnamed 15-year-old.  I have already, on recent posts, highlighted what a useless system we have when a cunt who is a criminal can't be named - if 15 is old enough to assist in doing this to a man (see photo) then his fucking name should NOT be a secret.  Who the fuck says he can't be named?  NOT the people.

Mr Collins has suffered a broken cheekbone and a burst eyeball.  He lost the eye and now struggles, which is no surprise.  The mitigating circumstances cited by the defence included confirmation that Lloyd had consumed 15 cans of lager, as well as some vodka, and had taken cocaine.  The 15-year-old had downed 7 bottles of lager, taken cocaine, and had smoked cannabis.

Consequences

Mr Collins has had to have his nose reset, four titanium plates inserted to rebuild his face, and have his eyeball surgically removed.  His status as a professional archer is now gone, and he will have to try to learn to shoot left-handed, using the remaining eye.

Lloyd was sentenced to three years, and so will be out in 18 months. Disgraceful, more so because he has a previous conviction for violent assault! WTF?

The 15-year-old was given a 6-month referral order - quite simply outrageous.

The judge criticised the CPS (well, don't we all?) and said the charged brought meant his sentencing powers were limited.  If I take it from this statement that he would like to have sent him to prison for longer, then WHY the fuck is there an acceptance that he will only have to serve half the fucking sentence?  The system should allow the judge to give three years and say "this means fucking three years, as ideally, you cunt, you should be getting a six-year stint; fuck doing just half - no chance!"

The UK is fucked.

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23.2.14 Freddo Scandal

In The Aisle

ASDA strikes again, as TMWSC finds himself the subject of overcharging once more.  This time, the issue was the cost of individual Freddo chocolates.  In the relevant aisle, I had the option of selecting a multi-pack (containing six bars) for £1.00 (marked down from an alleged normal price of £1.15) or individual bars at 17p.

I considered that I had no real need of six, and that two or three would be perfectly adequate for Junior to munch on.  I calculated that the multi-pack price would mean an individual price of 16.6p, and so to have to spend 17p was no hardship.  I was thus prepared for the extravagance of 51p for three, rather than the 50p 'pro-rata' multi-pack price.

What was frustrating, though, was the labelling deficiencies.  The multi-pack provided confirmation that the weight was 108g, and so this meant 18g per bar. On the lower shelf, below the box holding individual bars, ASDA had kindly noted the price (17p) under which was a record of the weight per bar being 21g. I considered that this actually meant the individual bars were better value than those contained within a multi-pack, as they were 16.67% larger.  In effect, that should have meant the 16.67p multi-pack rate would translate to 19.44p.  The individual bars were (on their wrappers) flashed as 20p, but clearly ASDA has fantastic buying power and the directors obviously felt that the demand for individual Freddo bars warranted an enticement, and 15% discount from the recommended price.

I inspected one of the three bars I'd picked up.  There was no fucking weight noted on the packaging.  There was, however, some 'nutritional' information, and subject to some tolerance (through approximations and rounding up) I have been able to establish the probably weight of the item based on its various attributes and constitution per 100g and per bar.

2215 kj per 100g and 400kj per bar
530 kcal per 100g and 95 kcal per bar
7.6g protein per 100g and 1.4g protein per bar
30.5g fat per 100g and 5.5g fat per bar

These figures confirm a bar weight of 18g.  This makes total sense, and confirms that the single bars and the same as those contained within multi-packs.  The ASDA labelling (showing 17p and 21g) was thus WRONG. Having deduced that I was once again being misled by the retailer, I maintained my desire to proceed with the purchase of three bars, and accepted a 1p "surcharge" for the privilege of not having to buy a pack of six.

At The Checkout

While packing the shopping, I noticed the first of the Freddo bars coming towards me across the sloped stainless steel area on the packing side of the checkout.  This prompted a glance towards the green digits as the next one was scanned, and I clocked 20p.  Most of what I'd bought had been bagged by this time, and I asked the operator to check the charge applied to the bars, as I nudged then to one side.  She confirmed a 20p scan and I highlighted that they are 17p, and that whilst it was just three times three pence, it was the principle.  This meant that Helen was called it.

Helen was, once upon a time, called 'Matilda' for convenience.  This was for my own convenience, not hers of course, as I'm sure her family would be rather confused by a change.  When I was blogging and posting after the Marmite fiasco, during which a woman whose name I'd not logged was involved in getting me a credit for an overcharge, I had to refer to said woman, and opted for Matilda.  I now knew her as Helen - well, I didn't know her exactly, certainly not beyond experiencing her input once when she was on the checkout shovelling items towards me at 38mph, once while sorting out Marmite-gate and once when she pointed.  The latter was when she indicated a lane that I might be interested in, with a big "Miley Cyrus" style finger.

Helen was within seconds en route to the aisles while I stood and wondered whether I might have been better off paying the higher charge and then going to Customer Service.  This would have led to Helen's input "post sale", and would have triggered not just a refund of the 9p but the £2 gift card being issued as compensation for having been pissed about and overcharged.  On this occasion, I was saving myself time and getting the thing sorted in principle.  I now regret this, and will be going to Customer Service next time, prompted by Helen's advice to the operator to cancel them off and redo the charging manually.  There was no apology and I heard Helen's "the barcode is wrong".  I decided against any retort to query the discrepancy over weights & measures information.  I will check next visit whether individual Freddo bars are wrongly declared at 21g.

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23.2.14 Fifteen Questions for the Weekend

1   - Why was Ellie Goulding's song Burn even in the running for Best Single at the BRITs?

2   - How did London Grammar not win the Breakthrough Act at the BRITs?

3   - Why does ITV show 703 trailers per week, for Mr Selfridge?

4   - What sort of wood is Stephen Tompkinson made of?

5   - Why does David Bowie think his opinion on Scottish independence is worth a jot, a Haggis or a Yorkshire Pudding, considering he lives in America?

6   - Will the rather distasteful Harriet Harman finally get her just desserts?

7   - Why do I have to listen to cuntish shite from people in robes and silly hats, who are interfering without first getting themselves in order.  The Church of England and and the Catholic Church, represented by the Archbishop of Canterbury and his underlings, and the Archbishop of Westminster (a Cardinal from yesterday onwards) are on dodgy ground when they criticise the government, when they sit on millions of pounds, and seem to expect taxpayers to pay for the idle.  The moaning about food bank dependency is simply erroneous/illogical.  Stick to fucking praying, eh!

8   - Why is Wayne Rooney being paid £300,000 per week for the next few years?  Obscene!

9   - Why do I have to see pictures and news about Coleen Rooney - ever?

10 - Why is extra publicity given to the horrendous 'White Dee' from Benefits Street?

11 - a) Why has Maria Miller not resigned yet? b) Will she have the decency to resign?

12 - Will Tony Blair ever be brought to justice?

13 - When will Robert Mugabe hurry up and die?

14 - Who has decided I must be plagued by the incessant media attention given over to useless, and/or annoying, and/or talentless, and/or irritating, and/or egotistical women such as: Rita Ora, Rihanna, Beyonce, Katie Perry, Ellie Goulding, Katie Price, Kate Moss, Kelly Brook, Kardashians, Naomi Campbell, Lily Allen, Cheryl Tweedy/Cole, Peaches Geldof, Cara Delevingne and Miley Cyrus.

15 - Marouane Fellaini - Why?

...

22.2.14 The Voice UK - Final Spins

The Voice maintained its all-time low, this week, and I struggled through the process of giving it my attention.  As ever, there was the usual mix of gurning and miming from the four judges/coaches, as they tried to convince us of their angst while confirming they knew the words of the song.  This was followed religiously by the inane comments by those who decided not to spin in their chairs, as they tried to find something helpful to say to the disappointed singers.  The coaches, without exception, seem to think their levels of inner turmoil are of interest to us, notwithstanding the fact that in no one case at all was the struggle real.  Any cunt can press a fucking button!

Out the back, the families were given intermittent air time, so that each and every short performance from the one who allegedly had a voice was interrupted by the wails and screams of those shouting at the four button-pushers to "press the button" in a manner than reminds me of the Peter Kay "Mum, get a spooooon" sketch.  I consider the show (up to this stage) would have been better labelled "The Wailing Families" rather than "The Voice".

Marvin Humes should change his name to Marvin Bland, or perhaps opt instead for "Marvin The Bland", as this would be so much more appropriate and in harmony with his general demeanour and level of ability.

Having had my fill of sob stories, I hope that we don't have to listen to the same guff as the 48 who've gone through are cut to 24 in the next round.  People die every day, people have struggles everywhere, but listening to this is not any substitute for entertainment.

The Tom Barnwell chap started things off and this led to the spontaneous 'dancing' of the judges, and general stupidity.  For once, the inanimate and lazy Tom Jones was the only one acting sensibly.  There then followed some general shit for a while, as my life was eaten by time wasters.

A major "low" this week was the inclusion of Angie Brown, the 50-year-old who had a chart/club hit in 1992 with "Why Waste Your Time" [the irony was not lost on me, even if it was lost on Angie]..  In effect, she came on to the stage and simply sang her hit record of 22 years ago.  Exactly HOW does that fit in with any of the aims of the programme?  She didn't get through; she has got a good voice, and that was probably why her single was a hit, albeit a song which contained only a dozen or so words.  If she'd got through, then it would have been a licence for every singer who's ever made the charts in the last thirty years to come back and sing the record again.  For this, I can watch Top Of The Pops Two, thank you very much.

This week we were treated to a mixed bag of performers.  Mild annoyance came from the Essex rabble who were there to support Luciee Marie Closier - no I have not misspelled her first name, that really is the deal.  The rabble screaming "press the button" (which the BBC decided I needed to see and hear almost as much as Luciee) consisted of many matching females. Alongside Mr Bland were the Blondes, all out of a bottle, and providing the standard Essex look.

In contrast, Nomakhosi brought just two people along to cheer for her.  She got through and went with Kylie, and we edged closed to the end of this stage of the competition.  There was so much mediocrity served up that I thought I might instead get some entertainment from a quick stare at the skirting board. Emma Willis, via a voice over, advised me there was "only one coach left who can press their button" and thus displayed complete ignorance of English, and all she had to do was say "his" instead.  If there's a last coach anywhere, I'm on it - out of here.

ALLIYAH was not my set of seven letters for Scrabble, but the name of the 17-year-old who had a weak voice but who hoped her rapping would create enough of a diversion that the coaches wouldn't notice.  To their credit, they did, and so came a few tears.  Kylie displayed an ignorance of adverbs and a misplaced bias to adjectives through her summing up, and the prophetic: "This is real hard", which of course it most certainly was not.

Will's weird mutterings about ducks led to the screen caption of quackers.i.am and never a truer word/term was written.

I am pleased that this chair-spinning bollocks is now over, but this does NOT mean things will get any better.  We will soon see the coaches 'agonising' over which of their acts (the ones they have just spent weeks collecting after pulling silly faces and blowing smoke up arses) they will kick into touch.  There will be tears, and people saying they've "worked so hard" etc.  Yawn.  Maybe phase two of The Voice should be called The Whine.  Meanwhile, here's a gratuitous photo of Kylie.

...

22.2.14 Three Years For A Life

If ever there was a case that demonstrates so well the uselessness of the courts in the UK, it's the one which has resulted in Lukas Karpavicius geting just 3 years for killing a man -a defenceless 63-year-old man.

The 16-year-old murderer was supposedly drunk, and crossed the road to get to David Hutchinson, the frail man who was 5'5" and less than 8 stone.  He hit him from behind, fracturing his jaw; the man fell and suffered a fracture to his skull, dying from the injuries three weeks later.  The cunt, Lukas Karpavicius, turned and boasted to his friends: "Look what I've done; it's my first knockout".

There is no doubt about events.  There is no doubt that the attack was unprovoked and completely cowardly.  There is no doubt that the cunt simply decided to hit Mr Hutchinson with as much force as he could.  There is no doubt that the cunt hit and killed an old man for no reason at all.  However, this seems not to have been reflected in the sentence - THREE FUCKING YEARS.

Anthony Russell QC has sentenced a killer to three years, which of course means 18 months in actual time.  This is quite simply a DISGUSTING outcome.  The system is completely fucking screwed.  Where's the proper accountability?  Nowhere, of course, because personal responsibility has slowly been disappearing from life in general.  I am appalled by the sickening actions of the guilty cunt - but I am EQUALLY appalled by the fucking useless sentencing!

...  

21.2.14 Cats, Dogs, Cunts and Biscuits

Takes the Biscuit

A cleaner at an Italian art gallery threw away some of the exhibition.  It was a very easy mistake to make, considering one of the 'pieces' consisted of broken biscuits in an artistic arrangement.  She thought it was rubbish left behind by staff setting up the exhibition.  Well, I am hardly surprised, and what counts as art these days is pathetic.  How on earth can a few bits of biscuit be worth 10,000 euros, however the fuck they are arranged?


Adults

In Southest Portland, USA, a sixteen-year-old was lured to his fate by four other teenagers.  His fate was to be tortured and then have a swastika cut into his forehead with a Stanley knife.  While the 14-year-old cunt is going to be treated as a juvenile by the courts, the two 15-year-olds and the 17-year-old are to be tried as adults, and have been named.  This is a far cry from the pathetic approach adopted in the UK, where "for legal reasons" there seems a reluctance to name anyone younger than 18 at all, let alone put them on trial as an adult.  Well done, USA, for recognising that there is no lower age limit on being a cunt/criminal - albeit that the 14-year-old is for some unknown reason being dealt with more softly.


Six-Month Sentence

As if to provide proof that the UK is fucked, and in terms of justice, hasn't a cunting clue about what is appropriate, we learn of a 6-month sentence given to Jason Gorton.  200 offences over 20 years has produced a worthless individual, whose actions have left hundreds intimidated.  Burglaries, assaults and other actions have resulted in his being in and out for prison since the 1990s, and ASBOs are obviously a pathetic tap on the wrist for someone like this.

Found guilty of being equipped to steal (and violating the ASBO) he's been given a 6-month sentence.  I fear that the Cunts-in-Charge have no fucking idea what the public wants or expects from the justice 'system'.  As people continue to commit crimes (and even more so if the seriousness escalates) then the penalties imposed MUST get bigger.  Otherwise, the 'system' fucking sucks - which it DOES.  In ten weeks, he will be out of prison, and scaring the life out of old people and shopkeepers once again, until the next time he's arrested.  Fucking FARCE.


Dog Hoarding

I am at a loss to understand a phenomenon known as "animal hoarding", and absolutely no sympathy for this supposed condition when it is used as a defence/explanation by fuckers who have mistreated animals appallingly.  The above two people kept 15 dogs in horrendous conditions, with the property completely caked in faeces and urine.  The squalid conditions were only the half of it; worse was the fact that the animals were not neutered or vaccinated, and were in fact inbred, constantly fighting, and feral.  They were locked up, and in efforts to get out, had scratched through plaster, plasterboard and mortar.  The RSPCA found one dog which had been mauled to death.

The vet bills have totalled £10,000, dealing with the results of neglect, the wounds and bringing them back to good health.  What has been the outcome of this awful case?

The two useless people have to pay costs of £580 and have suspended sentences.  Oh, and they are banned from keeping animals for life.  This is a pathetic outcome and deters no one from abusing animals.  Dogs get a bad press, but humans create many of the problems through bad handling and a lack of care.  This 'tap on the wrist' is simply inexcusable, and the system is fucked.  12-week sentences, suspended for 12 months means no penalty.  A curfew from 7pm to 7am is a completely pointless and meaningless 'punishment', and the costs they have to pay (£580) is rather short of the £10,000 vets bills!  Care for the animals since their rescue has cost in all, £40,000.  The magistrates are fuckwits.


Laura Cunliffe

Her name is almost appropriate, just a 't' missing.  She has indeed been a cunt, because there's no other way to describe her vile actions.  The 23-year-old was annoyed with her cat; it supposedly 'attacked' her goldfish.  The sentence imposed by the cunt was to cook the 4-month-old cat in the microwave for five minutes.  Needless to say, the cat died, though not immediately.  The five minutes of radiation was enough to cook its internal organs, but it managed to survive another 90 minutes in agony.  She will be sentenced on 13th March - let's hope there's a deterrent signalled via this sentence.  However, I have no fucking confidence in the courts, and considering the sentence of the 'dog hoarders', she will probably get something pointless, like 12 hours community service; let's wait and see.

...

20.2.14 The Posh and the Chavs

There is really no space anymore for the middle ground.  Anyone or anything in the middle gets squeezed, or is prone to losing out somehow.  In the 'entertainment' world, this is exemplified by television, which seems to like working to extremes.

Benefits Street is simply shit, served up to the masses, with the general effect that anyone in the middle is outraged (quite rightly) at the desperate and awful actions, lives, laziness and mess that makes up the lives of those on display. This is typical of many programmes, most notably on Channel 4 and on Channel 5.

Then we have Made In Chelsea, where twats with money are poncing around for the so-called entertainment of the masses.  This is more shit, and hardly constitutes 'entertainment'.  Posh idiots are not amusing at all.

TOWIE is simply an advertisement for failure being rewarded, and no doubt the youngest in society will grow up feeling 'entitled', and hard done by if they do not get on in the world of television, media or fashion.  The only exceptions will be those who do indeed 'bag a footballer' or who start a family they've no right to start, and claim benefits as a get-out to paying their way and having a proper sense of responsibility.

Meanwhile, on Grand Designs, I am expected to be interested in, and entertained by, the exploits of two rich people who have bought a barn in Switzerland (£250,000) and are now showing us how things went during the refurbishment process, costing another £500,000.  Sorry, but this is completely fucking awful bollocks and an affront to decency.  As for Fabian and Felix (no, I have not made up the names of the two young boys whose parent will be providing for them and spoiling them for the rest of their lives) I feel they will have little idea of what life is for those in the middle.

If you're completely thick, then there is a chance you'll do well out of the system, and possibly life.  If you are very clever, then again, you're likely to do okay and the system will work for you.  If you're in the middle, you'll work the hardest for the most meagre rewards, you'll pay the most tax, never be let off anything or 'qualify' for help in any areas.  You'll be fined, hindered and oppressed, while dealing with the outrages that are flung at you daily by the media, who all love stirring up trouble.  Every day, you will see those who are simply not entitled, or who are lazy, or cunts or all of them, getting what they do not deserve.  Gone are the days when people were happy to be 'working class', as now, the preference is 'non-working class'.  You will look to the government for help and common sense. There will be none of either - and instead you'll learn about more half-baked ideas and aid for others.  A check on what the opposition parties may offer proves that they are all just as bad.

The UK is fucked, Top, Middle and Bottom.

...

19.2.14 Was It Worth It?

BAFTAs

Lily Allen: "It took me about 4 hours to get ready; do I look all right?"
Mail Online: "It was worth the wait."
TMWSC: "Er, nope!  Where was the four hours invested, exactly?"


BRITs

Things got no better the following week at the BRITs.  What's hard to fathom, though, is how she manages to win awards for "style".  Baffling.

She was not alone in TMWSC 'Dire Straits' Awards, as Jessie J managed to look absolutely awful with absolute ease.

Why on earth she thought this looked any good is beyond me, and the freakish make-up makes it all the worse.  Perhaps someone should have a word in the ear of Julien Macdonald, and advise him that these wispy dresses he keeps designing are shit.

No, no, no!  Simply fucking awful.  Should have stayed at home rather than arrive like this, luv.

The Pillock Prize for prize pillock goes to James Corden, who is simply not qualified to host this event.

Most definitely NOT worth it - Pharrell Williams and wife.  "Happy Clappy Crappy"

...

19.2.14 Shop Interaction

Scene

Local McColl's newsagent.  TMWSC enter the shop carrying a box (parcel) that's labelled and ready to go. There is no one else in the shop, and the woman behind the counter is available to serve, and so accept the parcel.

TMWSC: Nothing said - he simply holds out the box with the label showing, so that the woman can scan the barcode.

Woman: Nothing said - she simply picks up the mobile scanner and scans the barcode.  She then attends to the till and the receipt that's produced.

Woman: "There you are." [She hands over a receipt]

TMWSC: "Thank you."  [He takes the receipt]

TMWSC then moves forward (marginally) to allow the woman to take the box.

Woman: "Is it heavy?"

TMWSC: "It's 9 kilos."

Woman: "I meant can I lift it?"

TMWSC: "Well, I don't know!"

The woman takes the parcel.

Summary

It is seemingly pointless to be specific when dealing with a question relating to an item's weight, when in a McColl's shop.  Apparently the exact weight of a box (when asked for it by a shop assistant) is either "Yes" or "No", and should be offered after an initial assessment, during which there must be an evaluation of the assistant's strength and physical abilities.  The fact that on this occasion TMWSC was standing, and holding the box without any effort for a short while before presenting it to the assistant, counted for absolutely nothing, as the assistant was unable to gauge whether TWMSC was unduly strong, or performing some sort of David Blaine miracle.  It was thus necessary for her to squeeze information from TMWSC but the brief interrogation was pointless, as the unit of measurement required was neither imperial not metric, but basically 'binary' - "yes" or "no".  TMWSC was not feeling very psychic, or otherwise gifted, and so even if he'd known that the woman was after a single word, he was unable to tell whether the dozy bugger would be able to lift it because her BMI to muscle ratio was camouflaged by the tired looking uniform.

It is a sad day when an exact weight is of absolutely no use to someone, and so it can be deduced that to gain employment at a corner shop, there is no need for any understanding or awareness of real life and actual weights.  I believe there is a need to be able to count, and operate a till, but any other levels of awareness or general life skills constitutes a 'bonus'.  On this occasion, no bonus element was forthcoming.

...

19.2.14 As If Proof Were Needed

EU Interference

We all know that the UK is impotent in terms of running its own affairs.  We learn today that the government is trying to legislate such that anyone claiming benefits must show that their earnings (whether employed or self-employed) were at a certain level, in order to qualify for handouts.  It is totally acceptable for the UK to decide how many billions it will give in benefits to ANYONE, and so it is reasonable to expect some care might be necessary when assessing how much to give to people who arrive in the UK having never paid any taxes AT ALL, but expect payments via the benefits system.  The whole set-up is cunting fucked, as we all know, but the proof comes with the EU announcing that the government's plans "are not compatible with EU law".  Well, fuck EU law, then.  Unbefuckinglievable!

Barrow In Furness

I claimed a month ago that the CIC * are always tackling those who present easy pickings, when it comes to fines and hassling.  The rich are oblivious or simply don't care, and the really poor just get away with stuff.  If you are 'unlucky enough' to be in work and trying to make ends meet, the CIC will target you.

Recently, parents have been in the news for taking their kids out of school during term time, to avoid the summer holidays, whether through necessity or choice - and saving money.  Upon their return, they've been hit with fines levied for truancy, which have typically been a few hundred pounds for one week. Now contrast that with the following.

A)  Nicola Duke has been fined £500 because her son has attended for just 3 days out of a possible 118.  The fines, plus £120 of other costs, equates to £5.39 per day.  What a fucking farce, when the holiday absentees are charged out at £60 per day.  That tenfold hike is even more laughable when we discover the holiday absences are extremely temporary, and often the first time the kids have been absent ever!  There is little information on this individual case, but certainly no mention of a father.  That may or may not have a bearing on the kid's truancy, and will almost certainly explain that the fine has been lowered because she is rather likely to be on benefits - and not rushing to pay more than £2 per week.

B)  The penalty for Karen Bromley (whose son managed 26 days of school in the same 118-day period) was given a 12-month conditional discharge, and ordered to pay a £15 'victim surcharge'.  WTF?  Who is the victim?  Who gets the £15?

C)  Christian Ryan's son attended for 30 of the 118 days, and his fined £1,170. I truly wonder whether this chap has a bit more money, and so was hit harder? In any event, why are there double standards (well, treble actually) for what is the same offence for the three cases at the same school, or should I say pompously-designated 'academy' in Barrow?

Redbridge Council

We have for so long been the targets of councils whose sole aim has been to raise money from motorists.  The fuckers argue that the cameras are for easing congestion, improving traffic flow, or improving safety.  All bollocks, of course. Speed cameras are money making pieces of equipment.  There there's the rip-off 'pay and display' scam, and on-street parking meters for extra cash.  The use of bus lanes is of course almost as sinful as high treason, but councils love offences of this kind, as there's £100 a pop riding on each image captured.

Now, as if extra proof were needed, comes the advent of the further money-making surveillance, at a junction with a yellow grid/box.  Yes, I know the highway code is specific in its guidelines on how motorists should behave but, has any of the CIC ever tried to get through rush hour traffic while sticking to the rules?  The answer is that they don't actually give a cunting toss.

I suggest that if you are in heavy traffic, and there are two or three streams of traffic all trying to merge and negotiate a junction where there is little space for anyone, and the impossible-to-judge situation means traffic lights have little effect on the first and last people in any of the queues, you will come a cropper.  It is almost impossible not to get caught stationery on some point of the box, as cars jostle for position, and stragglers loiter after their go at a green light let them pull forward but find their exit blocked.  This is a licence for the council to print money, and be cunts.  Even the company selling the equipment markets it to councils as having money-making potential:  "The system will capture more offences and deliver higher returns."  Too right - a £130 penalty for unwittingly stopping on a bit of yellow in rush hour, after a fucker blocks you.

Aid Madness

As if anyone in the UK needed confirmation that foreign aid policy is scandalous, we hear that over £27 million was given to China in 2012, to assist in a variety of areas, but notably related to climate change and environmental work.  Meanwhile, China is building two coal-fired power stations every week! What a cunting farce.  This is just one example of the weird and pathetic payments made by the UK, all of which are useless in the grand scheme of things, but which nevertheless lead to more cut-backs that necessary within the UK.  How can we try to encourage benefits to the world's climate through an attempted reduction in the flatulence of Colombian cattle, with a £15 million payment, yet be unable to justify dredging a river in Somerset?

Dredging

It is common sense that if rivers are not dredged, then the risk of flooding is increased.  It is a simple equation, even if rather general.  The Mail Online has published a photo that rather helps us understand this.

I think the pictures speak for themselves.  Nevertheless, the government will deny it's at fault for not bothering to dredge.  Labour will criticise the government, although Labour did fuck all either, when in power.  Residents cannot afford to believe in the system/government.

Gypsies

78 Irish travellers (from just four families) have been evicted from a site in Lancashire, after a 4-year wait, and a legal bill for taxpayers of £200,000.

As ever, the process of getting them to move on was horrendous, and I cannot be bothered to note the painful steps in the process, that included 'human rights' legislation and grief for everyone.  The UK is fucked beyond all recognition and common sense, and until we do something about the pathetic "rights" of those who purposefully offend and then seek to escape the consequences, then there will be thousands more examples of unnecessary grief, expense and stupidity.  The ECHR is no place for squatters to lodge a claim in order to avoid being kicked off land they should not be on - fucking period!

Black Box Insurance

It was hailed as a sensible way for drivers to reduce insurance costs - the 'black box' monitors behaviour on the roads, and safe drivers would supposedly get a benefit.  When this was launched, I was instantly of the opinion that the 'big brother' approach was creeping ever further into our lives, and anyone opting for 'black box insurance' was basically being spied on 24.7.  It turns out that there are numerous problems associated with BBI, and extra charges apply all over the place.  Aside from fees to remove a black box (which typically amount to £120) there are rules which drivers can fall foul of, such as driving outside of agreed curfew hours.  So, if you have an emergency and need to drive between 11pm and 5am, it could cost you up to £100 for a single journey, with one insurer!

Worse than that, though, is the permanent data capture on your driving, and if the system logs your speed and location, then you are at the mercy of insurers when they evaluate you.  If you travel at 32mph in a 30mph area, then that's a 'black mark'.  Simply put, you can forget whether you're caught/charged/fined by the police, the real cost is more likely to come later with an increased insurance premium, or no reduction at all despite being a fucking saint at the wheel.  Escape from the scheme and box-removal will certainly mean a fine/charge as well.  Anyone with sense will probably avoid this scheme.  But, desperate people (usually young drivers) will feel they have no option in order that the premium is kept low to start with; later on, there's a high chance they'll regret the move.


[ * CIC = Cunts In Charge ]

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18.2.14 Weather Forecasting, Epicentres and Slots

What is it with these weather 'presenters' who give us ungrammatical portions of shite while pointing at the map and various symbols?  I refuse to refer to them as 'forecasters' as most generally, they are simply the TV station's front (pun intended) for the information gathered by those behind the scenes.

In this last week, and on a slight tangent, I have had cause to wonder over the sponsorship of the weather on ITV.  These days, everything is sponsored, although some things are "proudly sponsored", which is just one-upmanship.

"Seven Seas Trying for a baby proudly sponsors ITV weather."

I have never come across a stranger pairing; I am struggling to understand why there's any sort of tie-in for such a product.

As for the content of these weather presentations, I despair.  Apparently the UK is covered in "slots".  They are, from time to time, filled with cloud, rain or wind, according to the brain-dead presenters.  I notice that there's never any inclusion about the sound quality or levels, which is unsurprising, as noise is not a genuine matter for inclusion in a weather forecast, although it could be of some side interest should the weather include some thunder.  Nevertheless, presenters are desperate to highlight "quieter weather" as though that means anything!

Lucy Verasamy told me yesterday about the injury to Mr Rain.

"With the rain limping its way from west to east."

What complete tosh; I was under the impression it had allegedly "barrelled in" from the Atlantic!  Some lucky people benefited from a "drier respite", another pathetic nonsensical term conjured up by the presenters.

We are still getting bouts of "winteriness" when it suits a presenter to try and get clever - and completely subjective, of course.  The real winner in the last coupe of weeks has been the word "ease", which is now linked compulsorily to winds.  Showers, too, are apparently prone to do this, based on weather quotes:

"Showers ease through tomorrow."  WTF?
"Winds easing down."  Not easing up or sideways, then?

Then of course there's been the added dimension (pun intended once again) of wind height.  I have heard of high winds, but this was always a reference to wind SPEED as it would plainly be silly to talk about the height of wind.  I thought wrong, though, because I was warned about:

"Winds up to 10 metres high."

I have no idea whether the weather report was from a confused person on a twat.

Elsewhere, on the Mail Online, I was able to learn about the consequences of the poor weather, and the flood-affected areas.  Now, I was always under the impression that "epicentre" is a term with a specific meaning, and has no place outside of its natural geological context.  It is always the point on the earth's surface directly above the point where an earthquake originates. Actually - according to the Mail - it's in Wraysbury.  Yes, the wonderful quote I read, with complete amazement, was:

"Last week, Wraysbury was the epicentre of the British flooding crisis."

This is almost certainly the most ludicrous statement I've heard so far this year, and the Mail Online should be ashamed of itself for talking complete bollocks.

...

17.2.14 Manslaughter It Is Not

Apparently neknominating someone could leave you open to a manslaughter charge, according to lawyers.  Well if that's the case, then the world is actually more fucked up than I thought.  How on earth can the voluntary actions of any individual invited to participate in something be the fault of someone else, if the person making the nomination has no control over what the participant will choose to do/drink?

I suggest to you that there are some things which are simply NOT sensible to do.  Setting fire to yourself, eating seventeen Scotch Bonnet chillis, voting Labour, banging a nail into a block of wood with your forehead, and eating your left foot are all examples.  The very long list also includes, in case you're in any doubt at all:

Drinking a pint of vodka
Drinking two pints of gin
Drinking a pint of wine/whisky/vodka/lager

So, please can everyone take personal responsibility for their actions, and not do anything so daft that it is potentially lethal.  I am sure there are loved ones who'd rather you concentrated on being a bit more restrained than engaging in anything on the list, or equally risky.  It is sad for those who lose sight of common sense, and so much sadder for the families of anyone who dies through mad actions in the name of 'impressing' others, but as ever, individuals are expected to take responsibility for making choices.  The blame culture demands that we afterwards deal with assertions that x, y or z was the culprit, be that a company, institution or person, but that's simply out of order.


...

16.2.14 Howard Howlers

Can someone please have a word in the ear of Howard Webb.  That someone needs to convince him that his "career break" from the police force, during which he concentrated on football refereeing, is well and truly over, as are the best years in charge of games.  Having gone back to the force,Webb has continued to referee but with an alarming drop in standards.  I have seen him manage no more than 'medioce' performances for ages now, with many achieving nothing like that level.  The publicity surrounding the blatant penalty when Ashley Young was taken out (which of course Webb didn't give) highlighted to everyone who'd not yet realised HW was, and is, a spent force.

Having refereed the world cup final - one of the most challenging matches to referee that there has ever been in world football - he should perhaps have considered his options carefully.  He'd done a good job, and should have returned the UK to live up to the good reputation he'd earned.  Unfortunately the downward slide in his abilities is clear for all to witness, most weeks.

He was so close to the incident when Young was floored by the Spurs goalkeeper that it seemed icredible that he did not award a penalty.  Today, he was similarly close to the challenge that came from Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain on Suarez, and how he managed to see it and not award a penalty is a complete mystery.  It simply provided yet more evidence / proof that Webb has lost his ability to make good judgements.

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16.2.14 The Fucked Up UK in Pictures

Bottle

A bottle was thrown at a car in Durham, and nine-year-old Abbie is injured from the resultant smashed car window.

Drugs

Police chase a car and the sone of Danielle Westbrook's (ex-cocaine addict and example to kids everywhere) is arrested.  At 17, he's on his way.

FGM

Genital mutilation of young women and girls is going on in the UK.  Why are those who perform the deed not behind bars for life?

Stabbed

Connor Tremble, 17, was stabbed last Thursday in Oxford, and has since died. What a tragedy, and even the death sentence for the 20-year-old who's been arrested would do nothing to change things.

Arches

The Archbishop of Canterbury criticised the government at the end of last year, from his pompous and rich environs, and simply talking out of turn.  Now the Archbishop of Westminster has done the same thing.  Fuck off, both, and attend to other matters, and leave politics to the politicians.  I am sure there is a scandal that needs your attention.  Alternatively, rather than whinging about help for the poor, why are you not preaching against the evils of lying and claiming benefits to which there is no entitlement.  If you're worried about the poor, give some of your hundreds of millions of pounds to the genuinely needy members of society, and don't expect taxpayers (you of course don;t qualify on that score) to continue doing your work!

Stabbed

Dean Mayley was 24 but with a mental age of 9.  He was stabbed and murdered as he got off a bus.  Two 17-year-olds have been arrested.  What a sickening cuntish crime and consequence.  Life should mean life for both attackers, but again, it will do nothing to brink back Dean or deter other cunts from stabbing people.

Expenses

The latest picture of an MP who has allegedly defrauded taxpayers via expense claims that don't hold water (a bit like the Thames).  Maria Miller is being criticised for gaining £90,000 for the usual "I will claim expenses for a house I don't need/use while living in a different one" and this time there's a twist because her parents live in the house that's the subject of the expenses claim! Typical shit from an MP, who is trying very hard to defend a position that's so morally wrong, it defies common sense.  My own take is rather less on the outrage regarding £90,000 claimed, which she no doubt saw as part of the package of being an MP - in line with so many other MPs of the "self-serving" variety - but more on the outrage that goes with her being shit at her job. Despite her poor performance from day one, the fact that she is female is being used quite wrongly.  Promoted above her capabilities, there's now an 'outcry' (it seems) that this latest inquisition might make her occupation of a higher position impossible.  Well, too fucking bad.  The shortage of women is not a reason to condone shit personal behaviour or to promote because she has a cunt and not a prick.

Valentine's Day

The Marine Beach Restaurant was perhaps not the best venue for couple hoping to enjoy and celebrate Valentine's Day.  I would suggest that when there are gigantic storms hitting the UK, and widespread desolation, a meal in a restaurant just yards from the raging seas is not really the best location - unless the male is hoping to sandblast some wrinkles from the face of his loved one.  Shingle broke the windows before the sea water came washing in. People have suffered loss, injury and death as a result of storms, but there is still an appetite for inviting grief, as it would seem from the actions of some who insist on travelling unnecessarily, and on putting themselves in silly positions.  32 people had to be rescued.

Silly Maps

The UK is still swamped, and to emphasise this, there is no shortage of silly pictorial displays of the crisis affecting millions.  Yes, there are maps (like the one above) that are simply stupid and allow the viewers not an ounce of sense as they try to glean information.  Basically, the CIC* would have us believe it's Armageddon.   [When I was a kid, this level of coverage would have been the result of a 'blockbuster' bomb.]

Scotland

It seems stupidity prevails in Scotland, as two walkers have to be searched for after going missing.  They have been found safe and well, after causing concern and unnecessary efforts by numerous rescuers.  In case anyone was ever in doubt about the dangers of walking in bad weather (aside from the two twats) there has been a statement issued by (for some strange reason) the Minister for Sport and Commonwealth Games (Shona Robison).  "Lives can easily be lost", apparently.  Thanks, Shona - back to your hoopla, eh?

Benefits Street

Even the street sign has been nicked.  What a sad fucking situation.

Weather

Forecasters are loving their moments of glory, and enjoying feeling important. The flirty Lucy is certainly loving the limelight, as ever.


[ * CIC = Cunts In Charge ]


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