Tuesday, November 28, 2006

What to write about?

First of all, congrats to my eldest son on being made Sports Captain for his School House, well done lad.

I hope Donna’s new system went Live with no problems and all is well in Ipswich.

My wife is out on her Girls Christmas day drinking session this Friday, which reminded me that the Lads one is the following Friday, so I’m very much looking forward to that.

I’ve ordered my Nintendo Wii, I mean the kids Nintendo Wii for Christmas. Although I still have no idea what to get the wife.

I’m sure there was something I was going to mention, but alas it’s gone.

Very much a rambling Post, but who cares.

Merry Christmas One and All.

Artistes? Twats more like

Pop Stars, Movie Stars, Directors, Producers, Composers...all twats.

This article goes on about how unfair it is (actually, the article is quite level-headed) that the 50-year copyright rule will start to affect Crooners from the 50s and 60s like Cliff, the Beatles and Elvis. Effectively, they won't get royalties on their older recordings.

My heart bleeds.

Somehow, these artists didn't receive enough money already? Maybe if you'd invested 1/3 of your Cocaine budget in Government Bonds you wouldn't be brassic?

It's not as if this came out of the blue, this rule has always been there. If you haven't sufficiently planned for your retirement maybe you should consider a job in Tescos like the rest of us you bunch of one-trick-pony loser whiners.

Save Cliff - download a dodgy copy of Living Doll from the Internet today!

Friday, November 24, 2006

Dredd Day

It happened this morning, those awful words that every Dad across the country loathes to hear: “Can we put the heating on in the mornings?” I mean you expect that sort of mutiny from the children, after all they don’t know better. They have no idea that it all costs money.

But when it’s the woman you adore most, who’s ever whim you cater for, then it’s like cold steel straight to your heart (and wallet).

Surely it’s not that cold I speculate; knowing too well that it’s a groundless argument. Won’t someone think of the planet??

So there we have it, from Monday morning you’ll be able to hear our leaky old oil burner chomping its way through my bank balance.

Baa Humbug

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Drunk: A little

My wife was out last night, so I had an evening of me time. I was quite tired and so I thought I’d have a few battles on Halo, watch a little TV and then hit the sack around 1130pm.

Halo started well, but I was soon way out of my league, and felt the best way to help my team mates to win, was to eject myself from the game. I then decided to have a quick go on Age of Myth on the PC; it was at this point (around 10.00pm) that I had woken up enough to have a cider. As the battle progressed over the first hour I realised that my large bottle of Cider was empty and went to the fridge to replace, said bottle.

As my Army was finishing off any survivors, 2½ after I started, I also realised that I was very drunk and that I had to force down the last glass of cider. It was also 12.40am, lucky enough, my life partner didn’t come home till after 1.30am and so she didn’t notice that I was coooooooonted.

However, I had a great night.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Oh! It’s been a Long Time.

I haven’t put pen to paper for a while, mainly because I couldn’t think of anything worth anybody reading.

Last Friday 4 of us went to see James Bond and what an excellent film it was. One cried off going for drink afterwards as he had been rather drunk at a Rugby Dinner the night before. But three of us managed to make it to the Piano Bar. Now the trouble with this Bar is that there is no “Last Order’s”, it stays open till everyone goes home. I was under strict orders not to come home before 11.30pm as my sexy wife had the girls round for food and wine. Anyhoo the three of us are sat there righting the world and talking loads of shitte, when Paulie B notices it’s 2.30am. Bugger me! I’m off home he says. Mike & I decide to finish our drinks and then head off home.

Meanwhile Paulie B had gone for Chips, Cheese & Gravy and the found to his dismay he didn’t have enough money left for a Taxi. So he wanders in to town to find a cash point and then takes another hour finding a taxi, eventually falling home at 4.00am.

Mike and I walk past my house and I suggest to Mikey that he comes in and phones a Taxi, to which he snorts at the idea and starts to run off. I feel compelled that he take my generous offer and take chase shouting at the top of my voice that he cease and desist and come use the Telecommunications device in my humble abode. Obviously he’s taking none of that and runs away. Dejected I walk the few meters back up the road Oblivious to the fact that I had been screaming at 4.00 in the morning in a previously quiet residential area.

Michael made it all the way home, and ran out of gusto in his front garden, where he need rescuing from his catatonic state and brought to bed by his long suffering life partner.

I undressed in the toilet leaving all my clothes on the floor, got in to bed, farted and fell asleep.

Excellent Night.

Friday, November 17, 2006


A few posts ago Kingster highlighted the fact that the Isle of Man has one of the worst places in the UK for customer service. This, unfortunately, is true - and has been largely ignored by the Manxies (who are the first to complain about comeovers, stayovers, foreign-types and the Oirish).

An example of such poor service and general distaste to be helpful is the Regent Street Post Office.

Newly decked out in the finest interior design tax-free money can buy, you are led to a bank of seven desks between railings. At the end is a scruffy laminated sign stating "Please wait to be called"

Although each of the desks may have staff behind them, and maybe one or two of these serving customers, they will do their utmost to ignore anyone waiting to be served in a little game they call 'Phuq Ewe'.

And so the game begins! The 'don't look up and catch the eye of the (growing impatient by the minute) customer' and the 'click, click, click of my computer though God Knows how many times I can check the calendar and time on this thing - but at least I look busy' and the 'chat with colleague stretching across the divide to block vision' tactic.

There are many ways to win this game - and I have been victem to them all.

Ahhh - but at least you are faced with welcome and helpful assistance when you finally do get to a counter? Eh? Oh no - the fun only continues with exhasperated sighs, unhelpful comments, unnecessary and tedious distribution of stamps (what? 7 stamps for a UK letter - and how am I to stick them on the envelope? What? lick the back of them - after they've passed through your sweaty fingers . . .).

Anyhoo. I'm manx and have come to expect such poor service.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006


No it’s nothing to do with Pam Anderson’s Home Videos; it’s the theory that life on earth was started after being seeded by Alien Bacteria. Which is gaining more and more recognition after Red Space Rain fell to earth in India.

So where’s you God now Eh!

As for things happening this week: I’m off work sick on Thursday & Friday (it’s just a feeling I have), which means I might as well lay the laminated flooring in the hall, whilst recovering from my sudden illness.

Friday evening the lads (at least a Quorum) are off to see the latest Jimmy Bond film, and then a few beers afterwards.

That’s it really.

Monday, November 13, 2006


The bloke I sit opposite is a real jobs-worth. A real tight-fisted, know-it-all. He loves quoting pseudo-legal jargon at Car Dealerships, the MEA, Waltons, the Govt and basically anyone he can avoid paying (even if they've done their jobs).

And although he is payed Contractor Rates, he does little work and has no shame in falling asleep in his chair at least once a day (but always gets his invoices in on time).

Today, I heard him telling his bank that he wouldn't pay their charges which were 'incompatible' with the services provided. That £25 for an overdraft letter was totally innapropriate and (signed Contract or not) that he looked forward to seeing them in court where they'd have to 'justify' their inflated charges.

He was clearly very proud of himself. Another company screwed.

He came off the phone and asked me what I thought about Banks outrageous charges. He was obviously intending to impress me (and anyone listening) with his shrewd, business acumen.

Before he could begin his diatribe, I jumped in (pretending I hadn't heard his call)

"Charging £25 for a letter does seem high. Then again, their premises don't just magically appear and Cash-tills don't grow on trees. Then there's the staff to pay, the Computer Systems, the huge insurance they have, advertising and sponsorships, heat, light, and complimentary coffee.

"So, when you're in credit and getting zero charges, do you ring them and insist they take some money from your account, because it's unfair for them to lose out?

"I think it's pathetic the way people sign up for things and then whinge about it later when things don't go all their own way

"Why? What do you think about Bank charges?"

The above tirade is slightly abridged. Coz although I fucking hate Banks, he just winds me up.

The fucker is asleep while I type. NO SHIT!

Thursday, November 09, 2006


We moved in to our lovely home the day the planes hit the tower, 9/11 as it’s called. In those 5 years I have painted the Hall, (which everyone will agree is the largest surface area, with 8 doors frames to go around) no less than 4 times. In fact on one occasion I started and was only 30 mins in to painting, when my lovely wife decided she didn’t like the colour.

Of course she decided again, that it was time for a change, and picked a new colour. So yesterday I took one of my precious work Holidays and did some decorating. Wanting to do it all in one day, I set the Alarm for 06.00am and was painting the ceiling by 5 past. With the exception of 45 mins for lunch and the odd 10 mins here and there, I finished at 8.00pm, and only then because I ran out of paint. 14 hours of painting.

Although I am complaining to all and sundry, I actually enjoyed it. Firstly I got a day off work. Secondly you could see something at the end of the day. Unlike our visit to Steve’s, in which we worked all day and just came away thinking, what did we accomplish?

Any way I shall repeat the salient points.

Used a Days Holiday to Paint the Hall
Four times in Five Years
14 Hours of almost non-stop painting.

Thank you.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

As a Parent...

...I read this story with a heavy heart:

Depressed Little Girl

It tells the tale of a lovely little 4-year old girl who has been diagnosed with depression by her GP due to missing out on attending the same primary school as her nursery friends.

Although this seems to pale into insignificance compared to being behind with the Mortgage payments or being dumped by your girlfriend, it should be remembered that everything is relative. To this little girl, this is the end of her world.

So, she should be treated just as we would treat an adult suffering with depression.

i.e. Suck it up Princess, life's a bitch.

And the mother is letting her stay off school!!! What kind of bollocks is that? Exactly how is she gonna make new friends that way? They're setting the poor bitch up for a life of misery and disappointment.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Free Saddam!!

Yes, this week only, we will be offering ex-Tyrants at NO CHARGE (plus P&P).

But seriously. Yahoo ran a story that Britain was 'happy' with the verdict. I was wondering who they asked. They didn't ask me or anyone that I knew. We are a country opposed to Capital Punishment. And yet, we are apparently pleased in this case. Of course, Yahoo is an American company, which brings me to the point.

Saddam is (as far as my information has it) guilty. He's a bad man. He should be suitably punished. Cut off his arms and legs and put him a glass box in downtown Bagdad. Whatever. But Capital Punishment is the last resort of the intolerably stupid.

But what gets my goat is that he's been tried and judged by a corrupt...oh what's the point? The trial was unfair. The verdict was pre-agreed. The sentence is a crowd pleaser. The timing is votes-driven. The Judge and Jury are a bigger bunch of criminals than Saddam could EVER dream of being.

This shite will breed rage and hatred for another generation.

And when will Bush be in the dock? Never. The crimes of an American President are wiped clean after office. And who dares to invade the US in order to put him on trial?

Friday, November 03, 2006

Society gone mad

Did anyone read this story?

Jellybaby two cleared of all charges

It's about the two guys who were recently cleared of racism regarding biting off the heads of black Jelly Babies. I found the story entertaining, shocking, pathetic and bizarre. A sign of things to come.

However, what really struck me was the name of one of the defendants:

Victor Cooney

Ironic really, when you consider that 'Victor' is the ancient Greek word for 'man who lies with the black wife of his brother before triumphing in battle'.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Daddy & Son Mummies

You want some?

All dressed up for the Nursery School Hop Tu Naa Party.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Hop Tun Naa or Halloween.

I went out Hop Tun Naaing last night with the kids. What really got up my nose were the bastards that wouldn’t answer the fucking door.

You know they are in as the TV’s on and you can see them changing channel or walking around. But will they answer the door, will they buggery.

Try explaining to a 2 year old why the misery fucker behind the closed door hasn’t got the decency to spend £2 on some sweets to give to the children. Fuckers.

They spent weeks waiting for this, hours dressing up and learning the Songs, and some smug bastard sits on the sofa listening to the little cherubs singing there hearts out, and thinks he’s got one over them by not handing out 50p worth of confectionary.


You could hear the little tykes hearts breaking as we had to walk away from another house empty handed. If it was so fucking cold last night I would have stayed there with my finger on the door bell till they came out.

Next year, we are going prepared and tooling up with Stanley knives. Any Scrooge that doesn’t answer get’s his fucking tyres slashed. That will show them.

Fucking Fuckers. Fuck em.