30th April 2005
I demand justice
Ms Luminous has been the victim of the kind of typical bloody ridiculous political correctness that only California could come up with. Her dorms at college do not allow kettles or coffee machines. Way to go California. Make sure everyone drinks cold coffee, cold tea or (as I'm sure you intended) however many litres of water are recommended per day.
How can you live without tea? And if you can't have tea, coffee is kinda OK. I would never have managed a degree were the stipulations on kettles so strict.
Anyway, she's shaking off the nanny-state and moving out to an apartment. So all you Frisco peeps should do the following:
a) Insist that you help her clean the new apartment.
b) Insist that you help her move.
And I am ordering someone stateside to buy Luminous a kettle. And I mean a proper kettle too -- a cordless one with automatic switch off. Do it. Or I'll be angry. You wouldn't like me when I am angry.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 11:06 CDT
Big days in Little England
At 12:15 BST today, the mighty Latics play Preston away. A win would probably secure them a place in the Premiership next season. Oh how sweet would that be? I still can't get over the thought of the likes of Man Utd, Arsenal and Chelsea pitching up to the JJB stadium (another stadium I have yet to visit).
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 05:03 CDT
29th April 2005
Perkin Elmur
They want £126 to fix my camera. In the next life maybe. Looks like I will be 'bowt camera for the foreseeable.
Anyway, it's Friday, it's 7 o'clock and it's...not crackerjack. But close.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 13:01 CDT
I'm going to Wigan
Don't try to stop me. Because, as all the "yoofs" say, I'm mad for it.
My camera and I are currently sharing the same condition. We're both broke. I might have to start hussling at pool now Excalibur and I are reunited in everlasting love. Snooker cues are faithful. People are not.
Now for something completely different.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 08:14 CDT
28th April 2005
Memes R us
Because I am unusually non-opinionated today, I bring you la meme. Via Keith. It's that whole type a letter in your browser and reveal your perversions to the world...
These are my URL ABCs:
A is for ananova.com/ - Tabloid news at its very worst
B is for blog.yatescentral.com/ - Pretentious? Moi?
C is for cnn.com/ - Not obsessed at all eh?
D is for direct.gov.uk/Homepage/fs/en - Why the hell was I there?
E is for esprit-people.co.uk/ - Useless
F is for fridayfishwrap.com/ - The delicious MJ
G is for google.co.uk/ - What else?
H is for hogonice.com/ - Deadly in more than one sense
I is for isbe.man.ac.uk/ - The old incubator
J is for johnsadventures.com/ - Conners' hiaitus
K is for kellyservices.com/ - Useless
L is for leightoday.co.uk/ - All the news that counts
M is for mozilla.org/ - I reinstalled. What can I say?
N is for news.bbc.co.uk/ - Al Beeb
O is for occupiedcountry.blogspot.com/ - Steve's regular dose of reality. And dog-shit tales.
P is for picklejuice.yatescentral.com/ - Da Missus
Q is for Q- Nowt
R is for res-ipsa.the-blinding-white-light.com/ - Rita and her object(ions)
S is for soapboxblog.com/stars/ - The gorgeous Ms Luminous
T is for thisislancashire.co.uk/lancashire/leigh/news/ - I only read the Magistrates "results"
U is for users.pandora.be/quarsan/zoe/index.html - Zoe, armed with an attitude and beaucoup de bouteilles
V is for vault.com/admin2/aboutvault/_contactus.jsp?aboutus=8 - No idea how I got there
W is for whokissesyou.blogspot.com/ - Rachel
X is for xmlrpc.com/weblogsCom - Sad
Y is for yayaempress.blogspot.com/ - Ooeerr - it's yaya
Z is for Z - Nowt
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 06:39 CDT
27th April 2005
Listen carefully, I shall say this only once
This is a first in Yatescentral's history. Or certainly within my memory. It grieves me to do this. In fact I'm not sure I think can go through with it.
Oh hell. Go on then.
GO ON LIVERPOOL
Trust me. It will never happen again. Well, OK, maybe next week for the second leg.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 10:17 CDT
Stream of consciousness
Forgive me if I rattle around a bit.
First off, I was presented with this poser last night...say "Robert and Richard had a Retriever" without the Rs. You may write it down. Answer at the end of the post.
Another gem: "T'missus 'as geet one of them there negligees. Tha can see right through it. Tha can see t'cardigan, t'kecks, t'boots and all sorts."
This election gubbins is driving me nuts. Everywhere you turn, Michael Howard's odious face assaults your eyeballs. I swear I have his image burned onto my retina, which might make shooting him a tad difficult if I ever have the chance. The latest Tory tactics are phenomenal -- proclaim you are not going to win the election so that those labour detractors who would have voted "tactically" for the LibDems swap to you, thereby bolstering your vote by a couple of percentage points. Piffle. As transparent as t'missus's negligee. Also, rather than use political points, just go on a full assault of an individual. Come on everybody now, all together, "Blair lies."
As Blair keeps saying, and I am in awe that he has not lost his temper, "I had a decision to make. I made it. You may not agree with that decision which is fine. But I made it. The British people will judge me in the polls." What could be fairer than that?
Oooh, I have an apology to make. In an earlier post, I had said that T (F's missus) was in her thirties. As has been since explained to me by means of verbal and physical abuse, she is in fact 24. For that heinous crime, I express a wish to be publically crucified in the tap room at T's earliest convenience. The lounge doesn't have the required rafters and it would interfere with the footie.
Apparently my blog is dull. I've been told so, so I will own that one. To that, the only response I can come up with is that it is literate (or close to) and conforms to syntactic norms. Neither a leader or a follower be. Isn't that the phrase? Ah well.
Finally the answer to the little questionlet above...
Bob and Dick had a dog.
Cue groans. I spent twenty minutes trying to get some phonetic innuendo out of that one. When I gave up, I got the usual mercy from the crew..."Educated idiot."
'Nuff said.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 06:08 CDT
26th April 2005
Drama in the BS
More drama in the blogosphere today as Steve throws a hissy fit and assures everyone that he has had enough of their mean-spirited name-calling and general lack of sympathy for his predelictions. He's not coming back. Ever. Go over, plead with him and then see how long it takes his fickle personna to start posting photos of roast pigs. But oh no, he's done with it all. Gone. Varnished, like an old oak table. Never, never, never. Hog On Ice has left the building. For good.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 10:35 CDT
Sometimes I hate being me
OK, so I got chatting about the suspicious trackback raison d'etre and I now comprehend what it is intended to do. I must confess that it seems a tad agricultural for my liking but being the sad fashion victim that I am, I started to look at the specs for it with a view to integrating it into my stuff.
Please, someone tell me that it really isn't worth the effort before I end up writing some code and learning yet more useless rubbish. My head is already full of useless crap...I really don't need any more.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:32 CDT
Blogger sucks -- non-techies, avoid this post
I have just been looking at the changes that Blogger have made to their software to presumably handle permalinks in a more efficient manner. Truth be told, I guess it's something to do with trackback functionality (which, incidentally, I have never understood.)
They used to just archive things as yyyy_mm_01.html or .php and then just add a #timestamp to construct permalinks. Now they archive to the same kind of system but also add a yyyy/mm/article_name.php as well. Which royally screws not only local comments, but also any archiving scripts and images used.
So much for efficiency eh? Talk about duplicate information lying around the place. To make it even more laughable, the archives are all full files rather than doing PHP includes of the permalink files. But then again, they couldn't do that because the naming convention for permalinks is bollocks.
I reckon it's a definite MT rip-off in its design, and as such is a load of sterile donkey jism. Complete amateurs. They've made the (stupid) assumption that most people's pages are generated using distributed services from third-party servers (eg blogrolling, haloscan, etc) and that those third-party services will take care of paths and the like. Very, very silly assumption.
I can't wait to see the mess they make when they try to fix this, which is obviously only a temporary solution. They've dug themselves a deep hole by doing things the way they have.
As it happens, I have nearly mastered it all. Just a couple of nasty details to hack now.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 07:32 CDT
25th April 2005
Oh, the pride...
I am number one on google.
Michael Howard is a joke.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 12:58 CDT
Stop me, right now, if you've heard this one before
I'm back from visiting my bro' in Thirsk. I stayed over last night to watch the football, and oh, do I not regret that for a moment. That goal made my entire existence worthwhile.
And I was reunited with my snooker cue. Excalibur had been confined to the history books with me thinking that the ex-missus had thrown it away. But no! My doting brother had half-inched it and stored it in his attic, where it has spent seven dusty years. And it is as beautiful as I remember it. I have yet to play with it, but even having it in my hands makes my knees weak. It is an icon, a battle-cry and an avenging angel all in one slim piece of artistry. A God amongst wood. Bring on the dancing eunuchs and let me smite their ignorance with a trusty tool.
Speaking of my ex-missus, she is, how you say, up the duff. In some ways I'm very pleased for her. She appears to have been tamed by her bloke, although I still wouldn't put my head in her mouth.
Apparently blogger has changed summot that has buggered up my missus's comments so I now have a little debugglement to be getting on with. And yes, before you ask, as far as that goes she is still my missus until such a time as she decides not to be, so as much as I appreciate all the helpful banter and support, let's just drop the damned subject eh? If I wanted to talk about it, I would invite you to talk about it with me. As it happens, I am not fond of IMs on the subject. Lord forbid that you ever find yourself in this position - if you did, you'd know why I stay silent on the subject. We are not Posh and Becks. You do not have a right to an expose. And to the side-show freaks in this mess, I say to you royally, feck off, butt out and hobble back to your happy little lives.
Oh, I am so the happy little camper today. Just imagine what this might have been had I not been reunited with my trusty weapon.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 11:24 CDT
23rd April 2005
Nostalgia
I'm at my brother's house in Thirsk doing battle with the interface known as AOL. How do you people cope with it?
We took a trip into Middlesbrough this afternoon. I lived there for a number of years and haven't been back in probably five or six years. Wow. They have really brightened the place up. It's positively cosmopolitan.
On the spur of the moment, we decided that we would go and watch Boro play West Brom. It was fantastic watching the faithful pile into the Riverside. Old men, young boys, middle aged women. A sea of red. Unfortunately, as we got to the ticket counter, we realised that the only tickets available were £31 each. No way! As my brother so astutely put it "£93 to watch two crap teams? No chance." Confidentially, I was gutted. I've not been to the Riverside yet. Sadly, all that is left of where Ayresome Park used to be is a housing estate.
So we trundled down to the park in Marton, where the Captain Cook museum is. The last time I was in there was as a student one Sunday afternoon. That day, we had a football with us and a few of the girls from Uni. It was fabulously warm as it was today.
Without sounding too maudling, when your future is a bit grim, you tend to remember the good times with even more fondness than you previously did.
I walked past the Town Hall that I graduated in. I also took a couple of finals in there. I distinctly remember that across the road from the Town Hall was a shop with a vending machine outside. It had a motion sensor on it so every time someone walked past, it would shreak some parrot wisdom to try to lure the punters. Very off-putting when you're trying to do flipping 7 point order Gaussian quadrature.
Places bring back people too. I sat wondering about what my fellow class mates were up to. I only keep in touch with two of them with any regularity. And those that I would like to know about are the ones who haven't signed up to Friends Reunited.
Anyway, it was a perfect day and brought back some fantastic times. It was spoiled only by a trip into the Virgin music shop where they were playing a song that took me back to my final days in Minnesota and made my guts wrench. If I ever hear that song again, it will be too soon.
I would have taken pictures but my digital camera ist gebrochen. I'll take it to bits early next week and see if I can fix it. Bit bloody useless then though - I don't know when I'll next get back to Boro. Probably another 6 years.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 12:50 CDT
22nd April 2005
Lordy
Via MJ How gay are you?
Kenny is 30% gay. Apparently women like softer edges. Hmm.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 06:18 CDT
Overheard
"Tha wants meet our Jennifer. Good God she's an ugly 'un. I 'ave a photo of 'er fizzog in't t'window. Well it'll be theer until th'alarm's fixed."
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 05:48 CDT
21st April 2005
Recruiters in the UK
It is my strong opinion that recruitment agencies in the UK are a complete waste of space.
You troll their sites (which all cross-reference each other) looking for suitable positions and every now and again it hits you. Something perfect within commuting distance and with a reasonable salary. They con you into uploading your CV and writing a cover letter and the next day, you are flooded with calls from agencies trying to get you to apply to be a locum clinical director at the hospice in fecking Wrexham. Erm, what about the position that I applied for? Did you actually bother to cross-check my CV for that or was it just a hook to get me to upload my CV and phone number? Bloody scam artists.
When I was recruiting in the UK, I dealt with a maximum of three agencies with pre-arranged Ts&Cs who went out and came back with relevant candidates. Those were the days eh?
I desperately need to get back to work now, and in the UK, it should absolutely not be a problem. Sadly, I made the mistake of losing contact with the recruitment firms I knew here. I know for a fact I would have a job within weeks were I dealing with them. In fact, I'm about to go google their names. Right now.
In the meantime, I may be doing some work for Manchester Uni. Just trying to get an initial meeting with them. Maybe that should come before googling recruiters. Either way, they are both on the agenda today.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 10:48 CDT
My family and other hypocrites
My dad has been a conservative all his life. Never strayed. Until last night.
He was outside last night, putting out the garbage when who should show up but the local MP, Kenny Burnham (Labour)? He introduced himself to my father saying "I am your, rather was your, local MP and hoping to win again in the forthcoming election." He shook my father's hand.
My dad was made up. He reckons he has never seen an MP literally pounding the streets on a seriously cold evening, just introducing himself and asking questions.
The transormation from life-long Thatcherite to New Labour took all of two minutes. He spent the rest of the evening lauding Kenny Burnham's merits and predicting that he will be Prime Minister one day.
We spoke of the Lib Dem's proposal for local income tax. Surprisingly my father was in favor. "Why? If you and my mother were still working, you would strongly object." The response came "I know. Look after number one."
What it is to have principles eh?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 09:38 CDT
20th April 2005
Frightening mental lapse
I just had the freakiest mental block ever. This is beyond my usual lack of attention to detail. It goes into the realms of "bugger me, you are losing it completely."
Tonight I am being treated to dinner by my ex-boss who lives in Bolton while he updates me as to where we're at with a number of projects. Seeing there is nowhere to eat locally, I thought about a place roughly half way between here and Bolton, as it happens to be just a bit away from my parents. To save him having to do the rounds of the North West, I decided I would just go stay with my parents tonight.
The frightening bit was when I got to thinking about whether I could just point him in the right direction and walk home. The route I mentally planned took me to their old house, that they have not lived in for nearly 25 years. What the hell is up with that? I'm becoming more retarded as the years go by.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 09:42 CDT
Election 2005
If you want a giggle on this shitty fine morn, I would strongly advise going over to the Official Monster Raving Loony Party website and checking out their manifesto. It truly is a work of art.
In other matters politic, I've had enough of the phrase "stealth tax" -- all taxes are stealth taxes.
I've said it before and I will say it again. What we need to do is abolish income tax, national insurance, local income tax, council tax. Then impose a flat sales tax of 20-25% on every single sales transaction. The rich spend more so they pay more. The poor spend less so they pay less. Why has this never been considered? We could cut the costs of collecting taxes by billions which can then be used to fund the ailing national pension scheme.
I have noticed that suddenly the problem of asylum seekers has become one of immigration in general, thereby including swathes more people than previous comments. Suddenly all those nasty immigrants are a security risk, not just asylum seekers -- and, of course, they are a drain on the country's finances. We need the "right kind of skilled immigrant" as per the US model. Britain must suck the talent out of poorer countries and leave the gap between the developed and developing worlds growing. Like toys to the Stewards of the planet are we -- they play with us for their sport.
Education. One phrase. You pay peanuts, you get monkeys. I had considered briefly retraining to be a teacher. I could have a teaching certificate in about 9 months given my mathematical and IT skills. But having seen the amount of work teachers have to do for a pittance, I am loathed to pursue that course of action. Especially when I know someone with a sociology degree will be paid the same as I.
Health Service. Bit of a right old shambles this one. The "fast track" commitee has been neither fast nor on track. Sack the bloody lot of the commitee and get some talented business managers in to assess the details. I'm not talking quango here -- I'm talking top dollar trouble-shooters with not a Lord Poncenby-Smythe-Lofty-Prestigious-Arse among them.
The House of Lords has got to go. The mumbling, bumbling, stumbling academic midgets need to be confined to the annals of history. An elected second assembly is a must.
God, just get this thing over with so I can get back to taking the piss out religious people. Thanks mate.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 07:03 CDT
19th April 2005
British TV hits new lows
I submit the following:
Home and Away
Hollyoaks
Eastenders
Holby City
Holby City has a chap who has married two women and has been living a double life. They have only just discovered each other's existence. And are talking about sharing him. Oh, and now a woman's explaining to her son that she is leaving his father for her lesbian lover.
Jesus H Christ. Can it get any worse?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 14:55 CDT
The Ritzy Ratzy Pope
All that voting has really taken it out of me. Ratzy's looking a bit buggered too. I reckon there were a few dodgy postal votes.
I found his choice of name a little odd. Benny is no name for the big P. It's for comedians and people in song titles. Oh, and landlords.
We're off down to Vatican City for the post-voting binge now. Should be a hell of a bender.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 12:28 CDT
It's all over
A job well done. I'll hang around the 'Clave for a while yet.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 11:40 CDT
Thank you bloody Microsoft
Thank you bloody much.
I had crafted a post this morning. I got distracted and made the fatal mistake of letting Windoze update itself and then the inevitable reboot started. Only it didn't finish. Four hours of resurrection attempts and finally reinstalling the whole shebang. I now no longer have Office. Bollocks.
In other news, I gave up my pills. The prospect of another trip to the doctors to get the holier-than-thou nonsense was too much to contemplate so a decision had to be made. The withdrawal is not pleasant. Which made me even more angry about the damned Windoze update debacle.
Me and Da Boyz in Da Hiz'Clave can't seem to agree on El Poppo yet. Two bottles of Johnnie Walker Black down. Four to go. What a long week.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 11:07 CDT
18th April 2005
Meme's are us.
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
I have no idea what this question means. If we're talking about being sat in the horrendous fat-rolls of an American "film" producer, I want to be dead.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Absolutely not. But the Caramel bunny was hot.
The last book you bought is:
On The Road by Kerouac last week. It reminds me of better times and gives a rare insight into madness.
The last book you read:
On The Road. Fixated? Me? Non.
What are you currently reading?
Do I need to answer this one?
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Junky - William S Burroughs
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency - Douglas Adams
Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert M Pirsig
Pear's Encyclopedia
Guess the fifth.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 05:56 CDT
Me and Julio down by the 'Clave
Yates reporting. I'm down the 'Clave with my Homies, trying to work out who gets to be El Poppo next. Tough times indeed.
We're still on series one of CSI and the first bottle of whisky, so don't expect any white smoke for a few days.
In an unprecedented moment of lucidity, I put forward Tori Amos as the Big P but Da Boyz were having none of it. Apparently I lose voting rights due to being a divorcee. I shudder to think what will happen when N gives me the boot. Martin frickin' Kemp? He ain't no Poppo.
I need to get back to the 'Clave. If I'm not quick, those bastard cardinals will half-inch the last of that first bottle. Buggers never bring their own.
See ya down th'Oddies in an hour or so eh? After all, there ain't much else.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 05:27 CDT
Hello Monday
I have to admit it. I've had a few beers over the weekend and my head is pounding. Nothing says hello like good beer, and boy is it saying hello. Of course you Americans would never know since there ain't no decent beer brewed there.
It has been a strange weekend. One of those that makes you want to smack the living daylights out of someone.
Down th'Oddies, there's a barmaid called E who is 19 if she's a day. She left work on Friday night in a taxi and was pulled out of it as she got to the traffic lights. She now sports a couple of shining black eyes. Robbed, beaten and abused. And the taxi driver did nothing other than call the police. Coward. Our great British system did what? Gave the assaulters a caution. Un-frickin-believable. If they show themselves, they might have more of a problem than a caution going on; there's a few of us in th'Oddies who would more than like to meet them.
The great thing about the US is that you have an innate right to self-defense. E could have pulled a gun and shot the fecker. But not in Blighty. Instead she had seven shades kicked out of her. And the liberal weenies will rush to the fore defending the guilty. Get over it. Shooting is too good for them. I prefer man-traps.
Try that kind of thing on my missus and you'll regret it. When I lived in Harrogate, some arse had the nerve to tackle her. It was a good job that he could run faster than she could.
--
Last thing. I've got Radio 4 on. They just used the phrase "post-9/11 Shakespeare". Was it wrong for me to utter "contemporary shite" and head for the bathroom, armed with my crossword?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 03:42 CDT
15th April 2005
Officially sanctioned
I had the luck opportunity to call in at th'Oddies this afternoon after a routine hair-cut and a mobility support top-up for my parents' dog.
It seems that El Bloggo has been officially sanctioned by P, S and his lass L.
I think I need a recorder so you can hear these people in action. You cannot pay for entertainment like this. You can walk in ready to drop the first person who uses an E in a word and walk out with your sides aching. If you add F, T and D into the equation, you have the funniest and nicest bunch of people ever.
They are relentless. No-one is immune from abuse. Tail from the Cranberry (a pub that they used to attend prior to its closure):
"Aye, it were brutal. Tha couldn't say owt that wouldn't get thrown back at thi'."
"I walksed in theer one neet an' t'landlord sez 'Ey-up Ste, what walks in, has a mild and then guz' [insert heart clutch here] and falls o'er?"
"He sez 'Pete Sutton' - thiv just carried 'im owt wi'an art-attack."
Priceless.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 12:18 CDT
Techie question
When I first got DSL here, the connection window said it was connected at 1.1 Mbps. I assumed that was the connection between the USB port and the DSL modem not the line connection rate.
However, I have noticed that it is now connecting at 2.3 Mbps.
What's the dealy-mi-bob with that then? Answers in a comment please.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 08:54 CDT
14th April 2005
The politics of fear
The Tory manifesto is a masterpiece of spin-doctoring. Because you can only find fault with six areas of Triple Adverb's tenure as PM, list 'em. Then turn the wheels of the Telegraph and Mail to scare the populace to death.
Ricin attacks, according to Michael Howard, are caused by asylum seeking laws. Hmm.
If you go into hospital, you will die horribly from an obscure infection of your fingernails.
More police. Or you will die horribly from rogue doctors infecting your fingernails with Ricin provided by asylum seekers.
Lower taxes so you can underpay the extra police you've hired.
Better standards in classrooms so we don't experience a next generation of asylum seeking doctors.
If the tories want my vote, I want answers to the real issues:
In a country where it rains 364 days a year, why are there always water shortages during "summer" (I use the term freely)?
What is with these mutant bees? I want a quango set up to find out why bees have evolved from cute furry little things to whopping great brutes that the civil aviation authority should be informed about.
Why is Michael Howard running ads with a background tune of "Take that look off your face" when he smirks more than Triple Adverb?
Seriously though, I have never seen anything like it. The tories have to be running the most juvenile, least professional campaign I have ever witnessed. It pains me to say it but there was more substance to the presidential elections in the US last year. Michael Howard is a joke. Could you countenance the thought of him being our representative to the world?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 06:40 CDT
13th April 2005
Random bunch of obsevations.
Yesterday, I suddenly noticed I have legs again. All this walking everywhere means I suddenly have my football legs back. The muscles at the front of my shins (I only did one year of biology -- thankyou Margaret Thatcher -- so I have no idea what they are called) protrude forward. Stretching my legs in various directions actually feels good. Only the lungs fail to live up to the former footballing God (sic) that I was.
I've also started dreaming again. I haven't dreamed regularly since my teens. I know there's nothing more boring than other people's dreams so suffice to say that last night's dream was so vivid that I didn't want to wake up. And when I did get up, I wished I hadn't. If you are ever unfortunate enough to be separated from your spouse for a prolonged length of time, my advice is to not read their blog. Nothing says gut wrenching horror like reading that your wife has been sexually assaulted by a lesbian midget. Good morning Bryn -- your first kick to the goolies awaits you on your computer -- we're still working on the rest of the day's.
'Appen I might go into Wigan this afternoon. No particular plan, just take a walk along the canal, do the crossword. I might even take the camera and photograph some of the more scenic parts of the winner of It's Grim up North.
--
Finally, one of the few things that have made me laugh hard. I'll try to transcribe it as best I can, but no doubt I cannot do it nearly justice. Scene: Th'Oddies at t'bar.
P: Ah fancy an omelette but a've geet no eggs.
A: So S, got anything planned for the evening?
S: Well a've geet mi new 'ob nail boots an them new underpants. Ah reckun I could 'ave a last pint and then it's wentin' time; I could surprise t'missus if ah put on just mi new bags and boots and come flyin' down't stairs. Never know. Ah maght geet lucky.
P: S, ah keeps lookin' at that door waitin' for't t'girl of me dreams come through it.
[Enter two middle aged women]
A: P, she might have arrived.
S: Too young for P them two. Wouldn't appreciate a good 'ob nail boot.
P: 'Appen. And I've only geet one egg so ah can't even offer 'em an omelette.
S: Tha said they'd geet now eggs at all yer f***in' liar.
P: Well yer can't mek an omelette wi' one egg.
S: Now, now. Yer a liar. Ah'm not drinkin' wi' a liar. That's it. Ah'm wentin' for't put get mi new boots on. Ah'll let thi know if it works.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 05:03 CDT
12th April 2005
Give me strength
You bite off a woman's tongue after sexually attacking her and you get life as an automatic sentence, because you've been a naughty little boy in the past. So far, so good.
Only when you read the article do you see what "life" means. I quote:
Judge Robert Brown said Humphris was "very dangerous" and recommended he serve at least five and a half years.
Five and a half years? You have got to be kidding me. How about we define life as life period, with no possibility of parole?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 11:20 CDT
All bow to the NHS
From my logs...
hide-153.nhs.uk 11:05, 12th April 2005 Mozilla/4.0 (compatible; MSIE 6.0; Windows NT 5.1; Q312461; .NET CLR 1.0.3705) http://web.ask.com/top?q=Should+I+Pop+a+Blister+from+a+Burn
I've hidden the IP address to avoid ultimate humiliation for whoever works for the NHS and does not know the answer to said question. I might do a tracert to see where that came from and avoid ever falling ill there.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 10:41 CDT
New lows in Tory campaigning
As if doctoring photographs wasn't bad enough, our proud Conservative party are now cyber-squatting.
Are you thinking what we're thinking?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:19 CDT
I love it...
Nev forwarded me my favorite graphic of all time:
Oh yes.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 07:43 CDT
Smashing times are here again
You know the other day I explained the strange Easter celebrations in Bryn; i.e. that of smashing all sorts of glass? Well I have big news to report.
Late last week, in a sweeping show of efficiency, the bus shelter glass had been replaced and a fresh new timetable was proudly hung for all to see. By Monday morning, it had been smashed again. I mentioned this to some locals with a shake of my head. They asked why I was surprised. I thought it sad that they just took this for granted.
Anyway, here's the rub. It turns out the council have sub-contracted the building and repair of bus-shelters. To a French firm. Smell something fishy yet? Or dare I say a spot of ai et oignon? Now apparently the stuff they make helicopter windscreens out of is virtually indestructable. Sure, it's more expensive than what they use in bus-shelters but heavens to Betsy and back, if Wigan council haven't been spending fortunes on bus stop repairs for as long as I remember.
Back in the union days, I know gas-fitters who would call in non-existent leaks so their friends got the call-out money. And when it was their turn to be on call, their mates would return the favor.
Now I am not explicitly saying that someone would deliberately smash up bus-shelters to get ongoing work. But as we all know, the French are a little more sympathetic to unions than we are. I'm just saying is all.
I know it's more likely to be daft kids who ritually smash the glass but that wouldn't make for much of a scoop would it? Never let the truth get in the way of a good conspiracy theory, that's what I always say.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 06:56 CDT
11th April 2005
Classic
So I'm trawling around the news site looking at who has been fined for what when I notice this gem.
Wigan? It's the terrible twin...Grim Wigan should go all continental.
It should re-style itself on its French twin town, image consultants claimed today. But the marketing experts, parachuted in after Wigan was voted the grottiest place in the North West, at least concede that it has plenty of its own heritage going for it too.
Last year, readers of Entrepreneur magazine overwhelmingly voted our town the winner of a Grim up North contest.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 07:04 CDT
Word
It struck me while in Manchester on Saturday that it is full of students and pigeons. I don't know which I loathe more. The number of whiney Southern accents being produced by carefully teased scruffy hair-cuts made me want to vomit. What the hell happened to Manchester? When did it become so lame?
Speaking of lame, it appears that there are exactly three decent pubs in Manchester now. The rest are continental style bars, all chromed and polished, populated by Southerners with Virgin bags containing CDs of band du jour and sipping politely at green or red things with lemonade and cherries.
Speaking of chromed and polished, as I stepped out of Victoria station, I barely recognised the place. I must have walked past the Corn Exchange, but bugger me if I could see it. There's a very posh new Selfridges been born not a hundred yards from where the IRA blew up Marks and Sparks. All these years later and the rebuilding still isn't fully complete though.
The lads had a suit fitting that I managed to miss which is fine as I'm not in the main starting line-up at Martin and Deb's wedding. We meandered down to the Chop House on Cross St and then on the Old Nag's Head and then to whatever that one is called next to Manchester Oxford Road Station. All the while, I bemoaned the pigeons and student grants and plastic bars and Millie Tants. Oh, and I got a good few Michael Owen jibes in too.
Which brings me nicely to a conclusion. Having re-read this, I'm officially an old git today, probably with more time behind me than ahead of me.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 04:51 CDT
9th April 2005
An open letter to the driver of the 600 to Wigan
Dear Scouse Militant Twat,
Forgive me if I actually expected the 600 bus to stop in Gerard Street this morning at around 11:45. I had mistakenly associated the bus-stop sign which read 600 to mean that said numbered bus would stop. And indeed, you did stop to let people off but would not allow people to board the bus, even though one of them is blind.
I also erroneously mistook your gesticulations signalling me to walk around the corner as an affront and therefore called you a variety of names including, if I am not mistaken, a tosser, a scouse twat, thicker than two short planks, a dickhead and many more such flowery terms.
You sir, are a first rate militant bus-driver. A class jobsworth, and overall, a festering pimple on the bottom of society. A waste of fucking space. I hope your next shite is a hedgehog and that the fleas of a thousand Christina Aguileras infest your underpants.
I have to go to Manchester now. And I will do it by train. God forgive me if I come across a militant scouse twat. I am not in the mood for tolerating idiots today. The first wrong word will see my hand disappearing down someone's throat.
You all have been warned.
Love,
Kenny
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 06:28 CDT
8th April 2005
What to do or not to do?
I need to get away for a couple of days. It's my birthday on Monday and, to be honest, I don't feel much like celebrating. I'm a tad restricted by funds so I need to go somewhere that is cheap to get to and preferably somewhere where I know someone who can lend me a sofa for a night or two.
Current thoughts are Chester, Llandudno, Isle of Man, Banbridge, Scotland.
Any ideas?
Today I will be mostly eating sausages.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 08:17 CDT
7th April 2005
The MG Rover debacle
Scenario: Troubled motor group MG Rover decide they want to sell the company to a Chinese outfit. Chinese outfit do some due diligence and realise that the accounts are in a worse state than they thought. MG Rover then turn to the government requesting £100m as a bail-out so the deal can go ahead.
Do you:
(a) Bail them out and let the Chinese buy the company, probably ultimately move the whole shebang to China, thereby losing 6000 jobs. But the current management can now pay themselves a tidy little number on successfully selling.
(b) Do not bail them out and lose 6000 jobs.
Dead easy. Government does not get involved. They've run it into the ground. I feel for the workers, but the management and the board of directors are culpable and do not deserve big pay-outs.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 13:05 CDT
Let the vitriol flow like the port will be doing
I think I have come to a point where I have to admit to myself that that which was once a certainty is now diffused. I can blame a lot of things; job, INS. But ultimately I failed a big test of nerve.
Waking up just shy of my 36th birthday to such a reality was pretty tough. For years I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Now I have trouble getting out of bed. What the hell is the point of being awake?
As someone much loved once said to me, I'm a "train-wreck."
The crushing reality is that I now have to restart. I could hang around to see if NewCo kicks off or I could take the advice of my elders. My mother wants me train as a teacher because given the shortage of maths/computing teachers, there are relatively big incentives to those who are numerate. My grandmother wants me to get a nice job with the council. The idea is that these are "life" jobs. Sorry peeps, but there ain't no such thing in post-Thatcher Britain. Maybe a little of column A and a little of column B may be in order? I could try to find a job that had flexible hours so I could spend time on NewCo. But to be honest, my enthusiasm for working for minimum wage is less than optimal and my confidence in my own abilities is shot.
[Hilarious aside: someone offered me a job as a mechanic last night. If you have ever seen my dexterity with a spanner, you will probably have just covered your monitor in your chosen beverage.]
I suppose the first thing is that I need to find somewhere to live. Being nearly 36 and living with your grandmother is a bit pathetic. I looked at the local rag earlier. £75 a week for a bedsit. This is frickin' Wigan not Chelsea. It will need to be near a train station too, which will probably jack the price up. Unless it's a company car, I don't think I'll ever own a car again; the insurance is daft and petrol is ridiculous.
[Minor aside again: the Yanks are up in arms because "gas" is above $2 a gallon. Get over it. Come over here and we'll show you what expensive means.]
In other happy news, in a sweeping break with tradition (sic), I got absolutely drenched last night. I walked down to th'Oddies to watch Chelsea in the vain hope that Mourinho might have it stuck firmly into his rectal cavity. I arrived like a drowned rat. Nowhere rains like here does. And nothing comforts me more than being able to rely on the fact that it's going to rain at any given moment.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 05:55 CDT
5th April 2005
May the 5th it is then
Election party time is upon us. Lord and Triple Adverb be praised.
Disaffected, disenfranchised, dis-dis'd. I can't wait.
TB, fairly, honestly, prudently. The count started this morning.
Michael Howard, historically, hypocritically, hip-replacingly shamefully.
Charles Kennedy, drunkenly, sozzlingly, did someone say party?
Be warned...I get the feeling that people have short memories. Remember what came before Triple Adverb? Do we want a return to that? Of course we don't peeps. So before you start being clever and 'tactically' voting, think of what you might be doing.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 08:24 CDT
4th April 2005
Another scoop for YC
Remember, you heard it here first.
So I have two weeks until I head off to Vatican City and the 'clave. The 'clave is what all the hip kids call the conclave. We sit around, play dungeons and dragons, watch CSI re-runs and then have a smoke before we elect a new pope. Should be a scream. I'm taking two six-packs. Of Johnnie Walker Black.
Last time me and the lads did this, Archbishop Arnold B (surname withheld to avoid any embarassment) was arrested for mooning at an attractive young police woman, named Derek. You see? It's just crazy what we get up to.
I see that Desmond Tutu is calling for an African Pope. Not on our watch matey. I already have my favorite nomination lined up. You'll love it. I'm meant to be sworn to secrecy, but I'm too much of a blabber-mouth, so I'll tell.
My choice is controversial. Da Boyz will be shocked; the moral giant yet evil midget, Kylie. I nominate her not for the fact that the Pope-mobile has an open top and thus is a clearer shot. Oh no. It's an entirely selfless move to get her out of the papers for a while. Nothing says unsexy like a midget with an arse that has its own ecosystem wearing the Pope's hat and brandishing a big phallic stick. Ew. I think I've puked my lungs up just thinking about that.
Anyway folks, you have two weeks until me and Da Boyz hit the 'clave. Let me know who you want as Pope and I'll see if I can pull some strings. Wink, wink. You never know...Da Boyz might have all been on their cell phones agreeing to vote me as the new Big P (as we fondly refer to the position.) I think I might check what the odds on that are down at the bookies - worth a flutter, non?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 11:25 CDT
Dilemma resolved
I was torn temporarily this morning. Do I attend the royal wedding or the Pope's funeral on Friday? Could I manage them both?
After due diligence and some soul-searching, I have decided that I will attend neither, but raise a glass of John Smiths at The Oddfellows.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 07:13 CDT
3rd April 2005
New name
It has been brought to my attention that I am no longer in the States and that the title of El Bloggo is now very inaccurate. Thanks for that.
Given that the chances of me ever setting foot in the US again are next to zero, I feel a name change is probably about due. Yates on Wigan seems not only dull but reeks of misery, so it may be very appropriate.
In a rare fit of creativity, I think I have come up with my next incarnation. Walls Come Tumbling Down. It's urban, it's symbolic and it's also a Paul Wellerism.
--
Blackbird update: Retardo blackbird is still alone. Birds don't cry. They just remain deafeningly silent.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 05:13 CDT
1st April 2005
Blackbirds
I have been watching two blackbirds in the garden here with some amusement. They hop in symmetry away from the central point. They'll simulatenously turn away from each other, hop onto the fence pole, turn back and then assemble back at the center. They'll then hop to the right together, then to the left and then it's back to the middle where the whole process starts again. Tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.
They are both males, which is strange as normally male blackbirds do not associate with other males. They occasionally fight but it's more like a friendly joust, practice if you like.
I had wondered whether one of them was a retarded blackbird and the other was a sibbling who had a protective streak. There are few other explanations for such behaviour.
Lately though, there's only one. And I guess it's the retarded one. He sits there looking around for the other. The other appears to have gone. Either he has been caught by one of the neighborhood cats or he has found himself a lovely lady and forsaken his dozy younger brother.
Shame.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 11:55 CST
