Thursday, February 26, 2004

A Blast From The Past

I went on a course the other day to investigate the possibility of starting a PGCE in the Autumn. It was a free course being run in the centre of Bristol, open to all. I went along with a colleague. We arrived first and made small talk with the speaker, a very mild-mannered, quiet lady who was the portrait of 'plain, ordinary and very nice'. I realised early on that she would be a good source of information and was pleased I had attended.

A few others turned up, all ladies. Then, just as Mrs Nice began to speak, the door opened an in walked a loud-mouthed, null-brained, in-bred wanker who beat me up in the playground when I was about 6. He was a wanker then and he's a wanker now. He ruined the course, continuously interrupting Mrs Nice, (who was too nice to ask him to shut-up or to leave). He was making really constructive comments, like asking if you were allowed to swear at kids, and telling long anecdotes about how when he was at school he used to throw eggs at prefects. I think he wasted at least a third of the allocated 90 minutes with his mucking around.

Just his presence made me uncomfortable, even after all this time. He didn't even beat me up for a reason, he was the sort who just lure naive younger kids then give them a kicking. And there he was, 20 years later, just the same - on a course for people aspiring to be teachers!

I am thankful for my future kids sake that he is very unlikely to ever make the grade.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Bin Silly

Tuesday is bin day in the area of Bristol in which I dwell. In my experience 'garbage etiquette' is to place your dustbin, 7 bin bags, large television box full of rubbish and wrecked child's bicycle outside of your own house, so they may be collected. As far as I am aware, this would be accepted as the norm.

My new next-door-neighbours seem to have a different view, they are of the "put-our-shit-in-front-of-next-door-so-that-bloke-nearly-trips-over-them-and-breaks-his-neck-when-running-for-his-train" skool of thought.

It would appear they have a thing or two to learn.

Monday, February 23, 2004

Crap Slogan #2

Saw another rubbish slogan on a truck yesterday:

"Somerfield - Shopping for the Real World."

Presumably an attempt to lure shoppers who are fed up with enduring the dreamy, abstract, fantasy realm that is Asda.

Friday, February 20, 2004

The Shittest Insult In The World.........Ever!

When I was younger I had a mate called Simon who had two sets of goalposts in his garden. Imagine endless games of 2-a-side on long summer evenings, muddy knees and rush goalies. Endearing image isn't it?

Next door to Simon lived two even younger boys. These kids were probably aged 7 and 5. The 7 year old was a right obnoxious little turd, who would interrupt our game by hanging over the gate at the end of the garden and shouting at us. Occasionally we let him play to shut the little bastard up, (we'd obviously then kick him until he cried). But mostly we tried to ignore him.

One day when he was being particularly irritating I lost my rag, and to (rather craply) try and scare him, I picked up a plastic boomerang from the 'touchline' and marched towards him, brandishing it like a weapon. He continued to shout. Not rattled, I launched the boomerang into the tree above his head. I could never, beyond my wildest dreams, have predicted the result.

The boomerang flew perfectly. It was just beginning to turn back towards me when it reached the tree and delicately knocked against a large apple growing in the upper branches. Slicing through the stalk and chopping the apple from it's leafy resting place the boomerang continued to bend back towards me, and landed near to my feet.

The apple meanwhile plummeted towards the earth until its fall was broken, by a noisy little 7 year-old shit's forehead.

I got him absolutely square across the brow. It didn't matter that I hadn't intended to because it looked so cool I could get away with pretending that I meant it. The combination of shock and pain made him burst into tears and leg-it back into his house to sob on his mum.

The younger brother was left alone. Until that moment he had obviously looked up to the 7 year-old as a brave role model. Deflated and confused, he proceeded to utter an immortal phrase which I will never forget. Possibly the greatest, yet shittest, insult ever known to man. Rendered speechless for a few seconds, he finally mustered the confidence to avenge his bro's injury in heroic, Hollywood fashion:

..........You've got smarties............on your ears!"

Satisfied with his moment of glory, he turned and fled after his brother. We all fell about pissing ourselves, and I still use that 'insult' today.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Virtual Pikey!

Hot on the heels of the marvellous 'Dodge' that a posted a few weeks back may I present my latest game discovery 'Virtual Pikey'. Tying in beautifully with Lump's Pikey reference in todays BRIT awards review and Pencil's news of his Friday night out.

So many pikeys - so much time to punch them.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Exclusive - Plymouth is Ugsville!

Not only do I have Howard Stableford's hair do but my friends would be right in happily pointing out that I could do with losing a few pounds. Indeed it would be fair to say that I am no Tom Cruise (though I do find suggestions of a Clare Balding resemblance offensive).

The point. I went to Plymouth on Sunday to visit my sister. I can honestly say that I have never seen so many fucking ugly bastards in one place in my life. Jesus. Every single one of them! Usually when you walk around a place, (especially a city centre) you expect to see at least 3 or 4 little hotties able to turn your head. As the morning went on I was going out of my way, desperately searching for just one lady who would be 'worth a squirt'. Then finally, not wanting to incriminate myself for eyeing up birds I carefully advised my girlfriend and sister of my discovery (making sure they knew I was 'excluding present company').

Imagine my relief when:
a) I wasn't in trouble with the missus.
b) they both agreed with me.

So I got them both looking at blokes (like they weren't already!) and at the end of the day we all agreed that the only person we saw in the whole day who could have been mistaken for a human was the barmaid in the pub where we had lunch. And she was no Bo flaming Derek.

It can't be the south coast. I lived in Southampton for years and that was wall-to-wall lovelies. As are, from memory, Bournemouth and Weymouth (am I right Steve?). So what the fuck happened in Plymouth? I've heard of Plymouth Hoe, but I didn't realise the place was full of them.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Reet Minger

A new series of 'Footballer's Wives' starts tonight. There has been some pretty ladies in this show over the last couple of series, so why is it that whenever you see it advertised they always concentrate on the face of this swamp donkey?

Bloody Nice Bloke

Last night I went to Blackwells bookshop in Bristol to listen to American author Eric Schlosser talk about his new book 'Reefer Madness' Tickets were £2 which was later discounted off the price of the book. It also included a (less than generous) glass of red wine.

The book is about the American underworld, more specifically the drug, porn and exploitation industries and the impact this has upon the free market. It looks really interesting and I'm looking forward to getting into it. Eric spoke for about half an hour and then took questions. He was very good and even in this short time influenced the way in which I think, especially in terms of illegal immigrants.

On a lighter note, after the talk I queued up with my mate to get the book signed by Eric. Everyone in the queue in front of us seemed to be having in-depth socio-political discussions with him. Uncomfortably we waited, trying to think of something mildly intelligent to say. In the end, we simply didn't bother - we just nervously uttered our names quickly as if we were star struck, then promptly sodded off.

Although those few seconds initially made me feel slightly inferior, on reflection I am comforted. All clamoring to the front of the queue for a intellectual chinwag had odd shaped heads and were dressed like fuckwits. At least we looked good. (so shallow)

In conclusion, Schlosser - Good man, good talk, good book. Go and read it.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Under A Rest

“A change is as good as a rest.”

Well, that depends on where you’re resting. I quite often rest in my bed and would term moving from my bed to my desk at work as a ‘change’. It’s not a very good change as it goes, thus proving this twatty expression to be utter crud.

Monday, February 09, 2004

Jordan’s Out!

That was the headline on the FRONT PAGE of yesterday’s “News of the World”. It went on to say:

“Jordan was last night sensationally kicked out of I’m a Celebrity.”

What utter crap on so many levels. I didn’t watch the show but my understanding of what happened is very different. It sounded to me like, for perhaps the first time in her adult life, there was absolutely nothing sensational about Jordan’s exit from the show. To say she was ‘kicked off’ suggests she broke the rules. Like she had been snorting hallucinogenic tree sap or melting some parrots. But actually no, she wasn’t ‘kicked off’, she was simply the least popular candidate in a democratic vote. End of story.

I know you all probably realise this and don’t need a knob like me to tell you that the tabloid press are mostly wankers. And I know tabloids are not about reporting news, they’re about selling papers etc etc etc…but somedays it really gets to me.

Friday, February 06, 2004

Buggy Off

Why do people with pushchairs always walk diagonally? Generally people tend to walk in a straight line towards where they want to get to. It makes sense. Yet stick a buggy in front of them and they begin their journey at precisely 45 degrees from their intended target. It’s like they’re racing you, barging you out of the way from the side. They also walk ridiculously quickly, giving any poor sod who happens to be walking normally absolutely no chance of escaping. Today I had three coming at me at once, all diagonally. Gave me the fear.

(and it has suddenly dawned on me that it might just be me on this one…)

Thursday, February 05, 2004


I’ve been ill, that’s why I haven’t been here. I think I ate something bad. It would be otherwise unfeasible to shit so relentlessly for so many days.

Anyway, I’ve never been a Boost feaster and had always claimed not to like them. Wrong. Jesus have I been missing out?!! Oh the pleasure. It has dawned on me how stupid and naïve I have been. I should have been eating Boosts for years. When I think back to all the adulterous time I have wasted fondling a Snickers or a Mars when just along the shelf lay this sleeping babe from chocolate heaven. I was so wrong. Calling you Boost virgins out there – don’t make the same mistake! It’s never too late.

What I want to know today is - have ‘Boosts’ always been really nice? Or have those crazy crazy cats at Cadburys recently changed the recipe?

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