8.8.15 What's Wrong With Retail

I had the unfortunate task today of calling into Sports Direct to buy some trainers.  My brief (to myself) was cheap white footwear that fitted okay.  I scan of the display lead me to some white trainers branded as Lonsdale and they were only £23 - job done, I though.  The assistant was actually in the mood to assist (not a common occurrence by any means) and after I explained I might be a size 10 or an 11, he returned with a ten-and-a-half.  I quick try, and I discovered that the world is shrinking, and that I'd need a size 11.  "I think that's the biggest I've got," came the words from the assistant, as if there were ever any doubt that my size would be unavailable!

He offered a size 11 in a similar style, rather more blue than white, but I conceded, and tried the right one on.  "That'll do," from me was the end of it, or so I'd envisaged.  But no - Sports Direct's Employee of the Fucking Month was out to attempt an up-sell.

Not once, not twice, but three fucking times the cunt decided to try and get me to part with an extra five pounds for some gel insoles that would cushion my feet.  Apparently I'd notice the difference, and should opt to purchase them.  I declined.  I declined a(fucking)gain and like St Pissing Peter, denied him a third cunting time!

"I'll take them over to the checkout for you," said the defeated irritant.  I made my way to the checkout.  At this salubrious venue in the far corner of the cavern, I was met with the face of a hard-nosed woman who was to allow me to leave the store with the trainers; not before another 'up-sell- attempt.

I feigned mild interest in the shenanigans that she undertook, tapping codes and pissing about.  "Size 11, yes?" she enquired.  The correct answer would of course have been:

"Yes, these are the cunts that the assistant fetched for me, and that I have just had on my fucking feet, having asked for a size 11.  They are the same cunting trainers that he then placed on the counter in front of your two eyes, to rouse you from your cunting coma, and do some work!  How the fucking hell would they be anything else but the size 11 trainers that I want?"

I did not say this, as I was in a pleasant mood.  Instead, I said "Yes,"

The shock of the up-sell wasa new one on me; apparently there's a mission to get rid of overpriced carrier bags!  This woman was most certainly determined, and had the look to go with it.  Even without speaking, she suggested by her very appearance that she was a zero-tolerance sort of female.  She looked the sort who had her cunt flaps tattooed (with 'left' and 'right' rather than 'love' and 'hate') and her clit pierced in three places by rivets.  I declined the offer of a £1 stronger bag to carry the lightweight trainers home, and she put the box in a normal carrier bag.  I left the store, thankfully.


Asda

Elsewhere in the retail world, Asda had no Mint Penguins, no ordinary KP Nuts, no Brillo Pads or any sort of cheap equivalent, and no new potatoes at all! Fucking disgraceful.  No sign of an up-sell, but more of a fucking down-sell.

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5.9.15 X-Factor - The Third Audition

After last week's unentertaining tosh, I found further frustration in the news, where Chloe Paige was criticised for wearing a Bindi.  As is so often the case, there were people who decided it was appropriate to claim this was ignorant, and disrespectful of religious views.  What the cuntin' fuck?  Get a life, whingers, and leave her to wear what she wants.

Also in the news has been the alleged flop of X-Factor this year, what with audience figures having dropped significantly from last year.  Maybe Dermot O'Really knew more than he let on, and timed his exit to perfection? Meanwhile, we are locked into ColeDitz, squashed in with Ki-Ora and forced to bear it with GrinShaw.

Simon Cowell will need to wake up, sooner rather than later, and take notice that his flagship show is fast becoming a lame duck.  The whole thing is a mess, with those on the payroll all conforming to the ways of a clique that is now hogging our screens.  Simon likes it that he's nicked Rita from the BBC, and had a chance with Louis departing to give Nick Grimshaw a spot - someone in whom he has an interest, what with his 'links' to Harry.  Keeping him sweet is somewhere in the mix, as SC protects his investment.

Then there's Cheryl Cole-Veranda-Tortellini-Tweedy, whose presence is unfortunate.  The crying machine is irritating, and irritating and . . . . . well . . . . . irritating.  Rita of course looks good, but I have little energy for any generosity in my views on the X-Factor, which is itself as tired as a sedated sloth.  Maybe some controversy will wake us all up.

In the wings are Olly Murs (whose mate was crap) and Caroline Flack.  While Olly is clearly beholden to Simon, Flack is another who is being 'looked after'.

Tonight's Shenanigans 

Far too long was spent on the Olly Stalker/Clone, and after his awful first song, his second choice effort was yet another cliche version of Uptown Cunt. He got through but was lucky.  Then we went to a fucking ad break!  WTF?

Flaxen, a northern duo, nauseated me next.  These two clodhoppers opted for a Rihanna song - always a bad move.  The inclusion of fire was pathetic. Cheryl was unable to speak, a benefit indeed.

Eighteen minutes in, and three shite acts have wasted my time.  Then we had the arrival of Alien.  The VT ate a few more minutes, as we saw that the six were 'zany' and fun.  They started singing and moving, and were certainly original - even if a bit flat.  Obviously marketable, so Simon was always going to give a positive reaction.  Cheryl said "a-e-i-o-u", before Simon said he was 'excited'.Break time allowed me to get a can of lager.

A bloke called Zen, who actually tried to sing, and was 'okay' was up next, meaning we hit the 30-minute stage having seen a whole five performers. Next up was Danny, who wailed a bit, and the women liked him - I include Grimshaw in that.

The next guy (Simon) was from the Isle of Man, and Rita Ora asked him if that was near the Isle of Wight.  Dozy fucker!  He apparently sang at "the odd Christmas event and the odd party" - so, at odd venues, then.  His voice, though, was very good, and he was certainly the best of the evening so far. Well done.

Audition Seven - Dental Nurse, with good teeth.  Shianne got off to a wobbly start singing a Whitney song, and it got no better as it went on. The wailing did not mask the nerves or the bum notes.  "I'm ready to work hard, I got fired from my job, I will work hard" - yawn.  How the fuck she thought that pleading was a good idea I don't know.

Audition Eight - Stephanie opted for a Taylor Swift nursery rhyme.  The song choice was horrendous.  Thankfully Simon put his hand up after twenty seconds and saved her . . . and me from having to listen to it.  Her second choice was super but instead of a subtle, and even nonchalant, delivery of the song, we went for a wailing, squealing ear-scraping effort.  She got through - an hour into the show.

I recall that last Sunday's hour-long programme gave us eight acts, so 8 per hour is clearly the going rate.  Stevie came on and sang quite well, getting four yeses.  The VT for the overly long lead-up to the next act was nauseating. Bupsi then started singing, managing a sentence before Simon put is hand up.  The second effort was certainly entertaining!

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5.9.15 Strictly Come Dancing, My Darling

Horrendous, TalentlESS Entity

Strictly Come Dancing is underway, and the prospects look damper than a slug's cunt.  The cliches were rolled out by one and in in the launch show. Toss Daly managed to use the term "My Darling" eleven times, and I suggest that all eleven recipients of this comment view her as anything BUT their darling!  Apparently Jeremy Vine wants to give up dad dancing, and 'move like Jagger' . . . . . . so, still dad dancing then.

This non-show wasted all our time, with introductions and pairings being announced.  The ministrations of Foghorn Leghorn were, as ever, enough to make anyone cringe.  Ainsley Harriott was amusing, mainly because he is addicted to that joker's grin.  I suspect he smiles when he sleeps.

The Joker

Kirsty Gallacher referred to herself in abbreviated form, with a "come on Kirst" . . . . . hmmm, maybe "cursed" would be better?

Bored to Death (us, by her)

Daniel O'Donnell is the most boring bloke that Ireland has ever produced, and we are going to have to suffer him for longer than (strictly) necessary because he has so many fans among the older generation that he will probably get votes he'll not deserve.  This year's duffer has been paired with Kristina Rihanoff, who allegedly wanted someone 'bland' whom she would not be tempted to screw.  Well, he fits the bill.

I wonder if Talentless Daly might learn how to pronounce "Judges" before she draws her last breath on earth.  I wish she would get it right, although if it speeds up her disappearance, then I'll happily forego any opportunity to hear her say it correctly.

Poor Pasha was left with a duffer, a weather woman (is that a real job?) to round off the pairings.  Maybe Anton will survive a bit longer this year, although not much linger, I suspect, with Katie Dereham.

The input from the four judges was embarrassing, as well as dire, and they should all have had toast and Marmite, watching a film at home.  This would have saved them having to make inane comments, and listening to Tess growling like a provoked rottweiler.


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4.9.15 Vatican City and Syria

The figures below were reported in today's news - the levels of financial aid given to the Syrian crisis by various countries and organisations.   Some of the levels of input are embarrassingly low, but I would like to draw your attention to the entry second from bottom of this list.  It seems that the Vatican has seen fit to contribute £6,518 to the crisis.  How very Christian, eh?  The same amount that it would cost to purchase a year-old Fiat Panda.

Fucking disgraceful.

WHO GIVES WHAT: CASH SPENT AND PLEDGED COUNTRY BY COUNTRY

COUNTRY AID SPENDING

US £2,800,986,584
European Commission £1,041,852,208
UK £920,646,623
Kuwait £764,149,331
Individuals & organisations £638,993,458
Germany £633,585,440
Saudi Arabia £387,077,881
UAE £359,148,206
Canada £341,430,640
Japan £310,032,078
Norway £171,992,010
Qatar £157,992,727
Netherlands £135,988,173
Central Emergency Response Fund (CERF) £132,481,587
UN agencies £130,667,593
Various (details not yet provided) £125,234,632
Switzerland £114,747,197
Sweden £113,030,788
Australia £98,394,682
Denmark £94,068,068
France £70,017,598
Italy £64,432,296
Finland £40,287,318
Belgium £31,791,564
Ireland £26,782,302
Russian Federation £23,601,492
Spain £20,918,214
Bahrain £16,849,800
Luxembourg £15,707,696
Oman £15,180,000
Iraq £15,157,436
Korea, Republic of £15,108,390
Allocation of funds from Red Cross / Red Crescent £12,307,248
China £9,769,935
Austria £8,843,065
New Zealand £7,326,343
Morocco £5,445,000
Czech Republic £4,491,722
India £3,824,381
Brazil £3,821,400
Poland £3,773,636
Mexico £1,980,000
Algeria £1,320,000
Estonia £1,168,581
Allocation of unearmarked funds by IGOs £866,611
Monaco £758,898
Croatia £695,665
Brunei Darussalam £660,000
Mauritania £660,000
Turkey £660,000
Hungary £485,200
Bulgaria £483,115
Romania £363,000
Ecuador £330,000
Indonesia £330,000
Malaysia £330,000
Iceland £267,300
Greece £260,187
Portugal £214,014
Colombia £198,000
Slovenia £173,584
Liechtenstein £170,807
Slovakia £170,426
Lithuania £161,451
Uruguay £151,807
Botswana £132,000
Chile £132,000
Kazakhstan £132,000
Latvia £118,776
Malta £102,099
South Africa £61,687
Cyprus £39,197
Andorra £33,987
Georgia £33,000
Mongolia £6,600
Holy See £6,518
Montenegro £3,300

Source:  Financial Tracking Service

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