Tuesday, November 25, 2003

Penalty Shoot Out

By sentencing Washington sniper John Muhammed to death, the American judicial system may just as well have pardoned him.

I saw one of the jurors speaking at a press conference on the news last night, she described how "difficult it was to sentence him to death, knowing it would deprive his children of their father."

Then why do it?

This man has been found guilty of masterminding the murders of 10 random innocent people. Why the hell should he be allowed to die? They ought to keep the evil fucker in a tank of fresh shit for the rest of his miserable days.

Granted - by killing him his threat is eradicated. But so is the suffering, pain and guilt that this monster should be forced to live with FOREVER. Instead, Muhammed even gets to select the manner of his passing!

"How about the Electric Chair Sir?"
"No thanks, I think I'd rather poison myself with too much sherbert"

Monday, November 24, 2003

Forever Blowing Bubbles

Don't let anyone tell you that 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' is worth watching. 'My Big Fat Greek Shit' more like.

Saturday, November 22, 2003

The Empire Strikes Back

At long last one of England's national sports teams has gone out there and done the job. And they were quite superb.

For me it wasn't just about the way we played rugby (although that was rather good), if anything it was more about the way our players and fans conducted themselves, commanding respect as champions.

With all the football coverage we are fed by Murdoch etc, how refreshing it is to watch players who accept refereeing decisions with no nonsense, who stand proud and sing from their hearts to their national anthem and who, above all else, are out there playing for their country rather than for money or self-promotion.

Here we have a squad of 30 players, all of whom are intelligent, articulate guys. They are true role models. Sure, they'll get absolutely blasted tonight, (and deservedly so AFTER such a big game), but you can bet your life they won't be in next weeks papers for a bit of minor simmering, let alone roasting.

Okay, if England's footballers were to go out and win the next world cup it would undoubtedly be a greater sporting achievement than today's win. (There are only 4 other rugby nations with a half-decent chance of touching us) Yet I know for a fact that I could never be proud watching the England football team. Those overpaid thugs ought to take a long hard look at Sir Clive's hero's the next time they start moaning about nearly 40 years of 'bad luck'.

I hope that today will show people what sport is really all about.

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

Credit Cars

Further to yesterday's comments on TV credits I am now very pissed off about cars.

Driving to work this morning I stopped at some traffic lights (red) behind an N reg Mazda 323. On the back of this Mazda, as with most cars, it displayed the manufacturers name (Mazda), the manufacturers emblem and the model (323). This really pisses me off. Whoever bought this car will forever be driving around advertising Mazda. Car manufacturers ought to knock something off the price. Who gives a gophers arse what model it is?

But that's not the worst of it, there was additional information. Underneath the make (323) it very kindly informed me that this car is 'air conditioned' in stupid fucking swirly writing. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care and once more I DON'T CARE.

At lunchtime today I am going to take a permanent marker to my Polo 'Genesis' and scupper the crafty kraut marketing I have paraded for the last 3 years. Something about minty genitals I think, that'll put a stop to it good and proper.

Monday, November 17, 2003

Give Us Some Credit

I simply cannot see any point in the credits at the end of TV shows. Who gives a flying shit who the boom operator was? When you eat a chocolate bar the wrapper doesn't tell you who stirred the caramel.

The only good thing about credits was the theme tune. Some of the most famous tunes that you hear regularly are the theme music to your favourite programmes. Nowadays even this brief enjoyment has been snatched away - the music is usually obscured some intrusive voice-over telling you what's on next. I fucking know! Naff off.

On top of this bloody ITV have introduced the split screen effect which means that the credits are so squashed up that you couldn't read them even if you wanted to. This is particularly irritating for someone as anal as me because when I spot some obscure actor in something - I want to read the cast list to find out their name.

Sadly the Beeb have also jumped onto this unwanted bandwagon. Even sadder they get it more wrong than ITV. They squash up the cast listing so you can't read it, but then widen it again so you can see who the 'Best Boy' was. Grrrrrrrrrrr......

Sunday, November 16, 2003

Poo Peta

Go and see The League of Extraordinary Gentleman, it's wonderful.

Whilst watching the movie I must admit to rather admiring the striking Peta Wilson (boy's name, nice tits) who plays vampire Mina Harker. So, I thought I'd look her up on the net. Rude not to.

I wasn't expecting to find a picture of her having a poo, but there you go.


Sleep is, officially, rubbish. So much of my life has been wasted sleeping, dozing or recovering that I reckon I could have done at least 743 more things with myself. Rob has been telling me for the last 6 years that sleep is not a necessity. I has always admired his early bird attitude (whilst considering him a moron). The Welsh nutcase regularly doesn't bother going to bed - and when tired, drunk, hungover or whatever - he will always get up and get on with the day.

On Friday I went out for the evening and had a few beers with Rob and Thomo, on the understanding that I must be up by 8.00am to drive to Faye's parents house in Coventry.

I got drunkish.

At about 2am, whilst vacating a kebab shop I got a text from Faye, pointing out (quite rightly) that I am a wanker. When I arrived home I found a sleeping bag at the foot of the stairs, (more of a command than a hint).

I don't like letting people down. Against all the odds I was up at 7.30 and down at So-wankys (the corner shop) buying milk. I felt like shit, but there were birds singing and the sun was rising. It felt good.

Finally after all this time I see Rob's point, he is right. He's a berk, but he's right. Early mornings, up with the lark = something to live-by. But I love being in bed, so I'm not saying that I will, I'm just saying that I'd like to.

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Robert Palmer Is Dead

Today's offering is an ode to your mum's favourite shod-rocker, the late Bob Palmer. Thanks for this to Ivan, aged 3, from Surrey.

your throat is tight, you can't breathe,
your runnin' at, a different speed,
your heart beats, another time,
another kiss, and you'll be mine,


you'd like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah,
it's closer to the truth to say you, can't get enough,

now you're gonna have to face it,

you're dead.

Thursday, November 13, 2003

King Of The Kerb

Walking back from Sainsbury's at lunch time I realised that when walking alone, I have a tendency to follow the line of the kerb. I naturally adopt a pavement position as close to the cars as possible, rather than the more effortless (and undoubtedly safer) route down the centre of the sidewalk.

I can only conclude that my life lacks excitement and this is a subconscious effort to 'live life on the edge'.

Always Cutting Prices

I reckon that I'm pretty good at acknowledging that the media is constantly trying to poison my mind. The trouble is that by acknowledging this, the media pisses me off all the more. Therefore it can alter my mood at the drop of a cat.

This morning I awoke in a rather good mood. I showered and dressed all the while humming a cheery ditty. Then, in the blink of an eye, my positive demeanor was crushed and I have been irritable ever since. The catalyst? Linda 'curried' Barker making ridiculous scissoring gestures at me. Isn't it about time she was burnt at the stake?

Monday, November 10, 2003

Links added

According to celebmatch.com my ideal celebrity partner is Lark Voorhies, who played Lisa Turtle in Saved By The Bell. I am lost for words. We are 100% compatible.
You have to have a go, it's bloody marvellous.

I have also added links to some top travel blogging by my good pal Bryn at salty boardies, and to the blog everyone in the whole world should now be reading - the quite brilliant freshlysharpenedpencil.

Paid £3.50 to rent 'Ghost Ship' on DVD last night. If you are ever faced with the same situation I suggest that you melt down the coins and pour the molten currency into your socks. Far, far, far less painful.

Friday, November 07, 2003

Not a real surprise

'REAL IN FOR £25M OWEN' screams last Sunday's News of the World.
They continue: 'Kop Star is Shock Target'

Cor yeah, a massive shock that. Who'd have thought it? - Europe's most successful football club interested in a former European footballer of the year.

Tabloid twats.

It's no flaming holiday, I can tell you

I am off work ill at the moment, it hurts and I am forced to watch telly.

Penciled in for my viewage last night was the excellent 'Kenyon Confronts', recorded on Wednesday evening with Thursday night's 9-10 'shite hour' in mind. So, at 9pm yestereve: "Bastard, Shitface, Hellarse, Twatsticks", remarked I, realising I had recorded the incorrect channel.

For this reason, and because I have no idea what that Chris Ryan nonsense is about, against my better judgment I flicked to the dreaded ITV. Sweet Jesus, have they ever before stooped lower than 'Holiday Showdown'?

Fair play to the family from Portsmouth. They may have been a bit rough around the edges but they were up for a good time and evidently approached the show with open-minds. On the flip-side, Mr Smug Twat of Central London and his Rat-Faced Witch of a wife believe that anyone who goes camping in Britain cannot afford to do anything else and refuse to believe that people enjoy it.

Three words for you. 'Narrow', 'Minded' and 'Fuckwits'.

According to this pair of blinkered morons anyone who can afford the lifestyle would not even entertain the thought on holidaying in the UK. They think that people with any sense head straight for Borneo in their free time to lie by the pool. (''Once you've seen one hillside you've seen them all") In fact, the repulsive old bag spent the entire 15 minutes of the show that I endured condescendingly mocking 'family Portsmouth' for wanting to leave the hotel and take in the local scenery and culture! Hag.

She could "Never go on holiday in Britain''. No love, I don't expect a rancid Philistine like you could, but get this - your opinions are BOLLOCKS. Fine, go sunseeking - but don't you dare:
1. mock those of us who appreciate the depth and wealth of Britain's beauty.
2. suggest everyone who goes camping is poverty-stricken.

In fact, if these far-flung places are your bag my dear, then I suggest that you piss off permanently and do us all a favour.

I'll be back at the pub quiz next Thursday.

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