Johnny M's Party Bash

Saturday night - Johhny M's 40th Birthday celebre's and drinks (around at his mansion) was an excellent event. Alcohmofol flowed like the proverbial Dhoo & Glas, food laid on and, of course, the Rugby World cup in three separate rooms. It was an excellent game - unfortunate that all points were scored through penalties (says something about a game that you can't win - but that you lose), and each three sides had their moments.

I say three sides, cos we can all agree that the Irish ran away with the Ellis Web Rugger world cup. The Sooth Africaan haircare boys played the Engerlund monobrows - but it was the Oirish fellah with the whistle and ridiculous penalty rewards that really won the day.

Bitter? Me?? I just have to face the biggest lug of an SA blicksum this weekend and grit my teeth as he explains where they won the game.

The party got back into the swing of things after the match. With lots of yon English over to entertain us with their strange customs and ways. But the falling down water got the best of all of us in the end - and we left the estate (camped in the 'West Wing' for most of the night) in a fairly decent state at 3 in the morning.

So cheers, JM, for the party. cya in the next ten years.

Latest Invention

God knows if it's out there or not.

It's a geared Screw Driver. So one turn of the handle results in 3 turns of the end?

Eh! good idea or what.

As for this weekend, it's out with a couple of the lads straight from work, and then tomorrow night it's round of the other lads houses for a House Warming/40th/ England Rugby Watching Party.

Lots and lots to drink.... most excellent

your mum!

Right, you sometime readers, wannabe cyber-buddies, and stalkers of Manx Lads - I have a favour to ask of the lot of you.

I want, nay, I need to win a competition that's currently being hosted over at the Joe Abercrombie website. Joe Abercrombie is the author of an excellent series (well, two, coming into the third) of books called 'The First Law'. He, along with another groovy writer (Richard Morgan) are leading the resurgent talent of brit-lit fantasy 'n' Sciency fiction - taking up the call from the old wolves (Simon R Green and David Gemmell).

Curiously, the competition does not allow for multiple entries. And whilst I could (ummm, and prolly will) set up 1001 gmail accounts to enter under craftily thought up pseudonyms (Udy Hall, Ady Hell and arseface already in the works) - what would smack of authenticity is if you guys and gals emailed in as well.

The rules, if you're too lazy to click over to the site to have a look, are that you:
1) Email yer man at 'comp[at]joeabercrombie[dot]com' (replacing the [at] and [dot] with the relevant symbols.
2) Give your name and email address ('natch).
3) Complete the sentence "I deserve a proof of Last Argument of Kings because ..."

It's a monthly draw over the next three months. Seems that he'll accept any old tat as an answer for ther first two months. But the December month he'll be plumbing for the wittiest/scariest/sexiest completion of the quote.

And here's the thing, right. Here's what I want you lot to do. I want you to give the book to me! Yay. Then everyone's a winner. I want the book, y'see, which is not due for release Marchish 2008 (and may as well be forever if you're asking me to wait for something. Instant Gratification isn't just a tattoo, y'know, it's a highly revered 2-word philosophy).

So. For me. Will you do this thing? Cos I'll only be banging on about it until I get my way . . .

Cheers

Long time no Post & Bad Knees

I haven’t posted for donkey’s, through a mixture of too busy at work, apathy or nothing to say.

But I must add my congrats to the English Rugby Team on getting to the Finals. I actually had them down not to get out of the Group stages, but they’ve only gone and done it. Well done lads, just one more effort.

Anywho, we’re all going round to a mates house to watch it, well technically it’s his 40th/house warming, but the Rugby seems to have hi-jacked the evening.

Also, I’ve had a dodgy knee for some time, I was even told to get it x-ray sometime last year. Well I eventually went for the x-ray last Monday and it appears that I have Osteoarthritis in my right knee. It has been throbbing for a couple of years now and I’ve just put it down to old age, but now I’ve been actually been told what is wrong, it suddenly feels worse……

Blatant Plug

I'm going to be really busy tomorrow putting the full Internet marketing might of my online empire behind the new software I've been working on. Seeing as how I'm going to be running around like a blue-arsed fly I thought I'd get this plug out of the way early.

So the software is called ICU which is a play on an Insight into your Children's Unaccompanied activity. In short it allows you to see exactly what your kids have been using the computer for, both online and offline. It does this in a non obtrusive way, it's not about blocking what they can and can't do but rather it's about just seeing what they have been doing so that you can react however you like. The whole thing came about because of the boom in social networking websites, I've got an 11 year old daughter and whilst I keep an eye on her what I was finding on some of her friends profiles was shocking to say the least! Anyone who lets their 10,11,12 year old child call themselves SuperSexy96 and run polls on "what would you like to do to me?" needs their head read! The only reason I could think of for this is because they have no idea what their kids are doing? It's been written with the average non techy parent in mind, hopefully it's just about as easy to use a program as you're going to find. You install it, decide which users you want to monitor, set an interval to capture activity and then you're emailed activity reports to look at. That's all there is to it. For anyone interested the cheapest competing software is at least twice the price (some going to over £70) but you can get ICU for a measly £12.99, or even for free if you're prepared to accept an offer from one of our many advertising partners.

The official release isn't until tomorrow (Monday 8th October) but the website is active now if you browse to ICU Free Trial or Buy ICU

ps If anybody wants to help spread the word by letting any friends with kids know it would be much appreciated!

Not The Nine o'clock News

Diana The Cum Guzzling Doe Eyed Slut
Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off,
fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off,
fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!

10 Year Old Breaks His Leg On The Side of Steven Gerrards Car
Or in a world where footballers are not immune to critisism, Steven Gerrard (the Liverpool and England footballer whose every other word is eeeerrrrrrrr) runs over a 10 year old and still comes out smelling of roses, good work Stevie G!

Tories Amazing Budget Plans
Genius, make people who earn a lot of money and keep some of it offshore pay so that everybody else can enjoy tax cuts. Cue lots of people who earn £100,000+ leaving the UK to either go home or move offshore completely. The UK loses out on the taxes these people pay at the moment as well as the employment opportunites they bring. On the other hand it makes the middle classes feel better now that they are the new rich. If brains were dynamite they wouldn't have enough to blow their hats off.

*cough cough*

The trick to taking tomorrow off work (and rolling the one day into two and having the friday off too - therefore allowing yourself a four day weekend) is to start with the symptoms today.

Start coughing at your desk. Take extended breaks in the loo. Splash cold water on your face to give you the pale look and squirt lemon juice in your eyes to get them red and streaming. Because tomorrow the internet will be switched off with the launch of Halo 3.

And believe me - virtually every red blooded male with an X-Box and opposable thumbs will be sat in front of their fave gaming TV and hooked into their life support machine whilst they save the future world from alien scum. Yay.

My office buddy has taken a few days off prior to the release - just to get everything perfect for the 36 hour non-stop carnage that will ensue.

Halo 3. The real world will pause so the future world can be saved. Again with the 'yays'.

It's Burma now, is it?

You can measure the shift of attitude in our 'wonderful British Press' by the labels given to their news stories. A few years ago the lil' country with part Risk value was named Myanmar by it's Junta government. Myanmar was a bloody oppressor of human rights - as you would expect from any half-decent military regime that swept to power amidst chaos and blood. Don't need those speccy intellectuals complaining about human rights and lack of democracy, after all.

Yet the press still referred to the country as Myanmar. Best not upset any trade or TV rights that may be ongoing.

Until today. When it's Burma back on the map. Good old Burma, with it's history of Tigers and Jungles and - - what's this? Monks leading a revolt against the military government? Good-oh. That'll make excellent news coverage. Swaffron robed monks karate kicking undemocratic soldiers in a giddy nine o'clock round-up. Yay. So Burma is back. And so is the support of the British media for those violated by the Myanmar junta.

We needed some good coverage, after all, Afganistan and Iraq were getting a little stale.

Now all we need is Rambo to storm the country, knife clenched between teeth, with a grenade for a nosering!

Can You Get A Stomach Replacement?

I've been on a healthy eating plan for a couple of weeks now, it's not a diet (diets are for girls and gays). I'm having cereal for breakfast and lunch which works well because not only do I like cereal but I'm also a cheap bastard. I finally weighed myself yesterday and so far I've lost about 4 pounds, who said this losing weight thing was hard?

Because I'd been doing so well I though a treat was in order so last night we went to the chippy, fish chips and mushy peas for me. This luxury meal has been planned since Monday, I was really looking forward to getting stuck in. I think I broke a world speed record for eating fish and chips, certainly all gone in under 5 minutes.

So this morning I'm woke up by crippling stomach pain, my guts feeling like they are turning themselves inside out. Looks like I've got a day on the bog to look forward to all because of one bastard meal. This is happening more and more, it used to be drinking with food that killed me but now it just seems to be eating anything nice that gets me. Can you get stomach replacements, if so how much do they cost and will anybody sponsor me? Gotta go......

Support Jim Davidson - nick, nick

So, ITV puts a racist, homophobic, bigot with an evolutionary dead-end (i.e. a homosexual) on a reality show (and a few bottles of plonk).

OMG - something not-PC is aired. "Oops" says the Producer. "Sack him" says the Director. "Make sure the Daily Mail doesn't get hold of this" says the PR Guy (with heavy sarcasm).

Personally, I think JD is funny. I don't know why, I usually prefer surreal humour.

I think he's funny without even saying anything. The humour comes not from what he says, but from the anticipation of what he might say. The things I imagine him saying to a [insert minority] are usually worse than what he actually says.

I'd probably hate him if I met him.

But I'll bet £10,000 that JD feels more genuine remorse over upsetting the Faggot than the Faggot feels for putting out the dying embers of a once-successful career with his Crocodile Tears.

In summary: JD is a bigot. That's his career. Dowling is a Camp caricature. That's his career. You're entertainers for Gods sake. At least JD did what was required of him. Does Dowling really believe he's on TV for his good looks and Shakespearian ability? No, he's the perfect stereotype of a gay target. Live with it.

Rant over.

p.s. How long till the word 'bigot' is as offensive to the straight-white-male minority as 'shirt-lifter' is to the growing flower-arranging community.

p.p.s. Yeah, I said Faggot. If you don't want to be offended - STOP READING BLOGS

p.p.p.s. Bizarrely, I couldn't give two hoots about a persons sexual orientation. But I HATE whinging celebrities and people who use their minority status to their advantage.

return of the man bag

With the upcoming Indiana Jones IV movie - this would be a great time for fashion designers to push the concept of 'the man bag' into the fore. I, for one, am gagging to empty the pockets of my coat/jacket/indecently tight 501's, into some cool satchel type bag designed with a man in mind.

I know there are manbags out there for sale. I just don't have the confidence to be a trend setter. So once it becomes the norm amongst the office wallah set, then perhaps I'll feel safe in slinging on a manbag and saving the blushes of womenfolk everywhere as I explain that 'why, yes. It is an overstuffed wallet in my pocket - thank you for noticing!'

ps - manbags should have cool pockets and hidden compartments and holster-thingies (where a gun could possibly go - but is actually used for a mobile phone). Where a bloke could keep a sack full of sand, snake poison antidote, handy penknife, compass and survival gear, and a quart of vodka. Perhaps with more webbing.

Mr and Mrs Average...

...could you please pull down your pants, bend over and take one in the rusty bullet hole for society please?

10 months and numerous phone calls to the town hall later and we still don't have any working street lighting. Not just 1 out but 4 lights not working. I know why nobody is giving a shit to come and fix them, they're too busy financing carved street signs, oil central heating (the gas they put in was too expensive apparently!) and new street lights for anybody in social housing. After all one does need a suitable hand carved oak well lit street sign to walk past when one is walking from ones BMW to ones very warm council house.

I feel like a right stupid fucker for paying a mortgage, owning a house, working and all that other shit that Mr and Mrs Average do. To make things worse I've got the bloody cheek to live in the outskirts in a over priced cardboard kit house instead of a drug flat in the centre of town. This is what really gets on my tits, "You people out there, you in your own houses! We'd like you all to pay lots of money so that we can give these people over here in the centre of town more money for their drugs! While we're at it we'll need some cameras outside their doors put up just in case somebody comes to collect an unpaid drug debt." The centre of Douglas is a much safer place than our little suburbia, the only time we ever see a police officer is when they come to stock up from the drug dealer on the corner. Maybe that's why they've not bothered with the street lighting?

It's not just the Isle of Man either. One of the wife's Irish friends was back home again recently and she was amazed and what's going on over there. Centre of Dublin, lovely place, safe, couldn't be better. It seems that people are now venturing out to the back of beyond to do their murdering.

We were over in Liverpool a few weeks ago on a shopping expedition. That place has really turned around. As a born and bred United fan I hate all things scouse, but even I'll admit that we had a great couple of days. We wandered around, getting lost a few times down some dodgy back lanes but not once did I feel anything but safe. Large Police presence, very clean city centre it was great. It made me wonder though, what about outside the city centre. What about Mr and Mrs Suburbia that are footing the bill here, hopefully they're getting a fair deal or are all the scummy fuckers just heading out of town to do their nasty shit? I think I know the answer to that one already. Regenerate and Police one area, ignore the rest.

Doesn't seem to matter who the government is, Manx, Irish or UK they've all got the same idea. Coooonts.

Joss Whedon. Bruce Campbell. Wow!

Joss Whedon to helm the comeback series ‘Adventures of County Brisco, Jr’? Starring Bruce Campbell and an assortment of oddball characters?? The teaming of the creator of Buffy with the ‘Chin of Sin’ that made Bubba Ho-tep bearable!

Well – this is what I wish would happen. In one of those geekgasm kinda ideas – this one would be fan-dabby-dosy. Now all I need to do is create a rumour on the internet-thingy and let some rabid TV mouthfrothers post it to hundreds of bulletin boards and let nature take it’s course!

Eat My Shorts

Even masters of cool such as myself have bad days, today was a bad day.

1. Go to gym
2. Build up a good sweat
3. Start to stretch
4. Be joined by a super hot fitty, obviously admiring my style
5. Hear a strange noise
   

OH BUGGER! Leave said hotty mentally scarred by the image of my hairy and not so toned ass in her face.

Country boy in the big City

I forgot what a glorious city London (or, as the locals pronounce it, Laandaahn) can be. I made a recent trip there last week, and instead of risking a bomb-run on the underground (although I am addicted to the warm, strange smell of the underground. Someone could bottle that and sell it on Ebay) I walked from Victoria station up to Liverpool street for the next leg of my trip.

It really is a beautiful city, with concrete grey slabby buildings next to glittering blueglass metal buildings with ornate olde worlde churches and buildings liberally sprinkled along the way.

I did stop by a few pubs along the trek (there was a curious pub where ladies took off their clothes and danced around the noses of fiver waving office types – wha-hey!). And one thing I noticed about the pubs over there was, due to the smoking ban, there were many, many other ‘fragrances’ that assaulted you. I guess a thick layer of second hand smoke becomes an almost unnoticeable, background smell – and part ‘n’ parcel of a night in the boozer.

However, with the smoke ban fully enforced, the myriad of people aroma’s has become evident – and perhaps this is the latest pubgame – name the public house aroma. The ‘stale beer in carpet’ competes with ‘bloke letting off small but regular farts’ that almost has dominance over ‘beery belch mixed with last nights curry breath’.

Of course, the cure lies in the cause – and after eight pints you barely notice the smell (or the time!).

10 Years, Get Over It

If there's one thing to really annoy me in the morning it's some stupid bitch driving along looking anywhere but forward while talking on her mobile. What makes it worse is when she narrowly misses crashing into our car carrying my wife and daughter. Just to top things of the ignorant cow has the fucking bare faced cheek to have a "baby on board" sticker in the back window (the emphasis should be on you to keep your child safe by not driving like a fucking moron you stupid bitch!), it could just be made out as she sped off through our suburban cull-De-sac. May her days end in a twisted metal car wreck.

Talking of which is it officially Diana day? Did I miss something? Why is this still in the news, why are grown men still crying on my TV? One of the papers has a picture on the front page of Diana, made up of stamps. Wonderful, I take it there is nothing important going on in the world today, there must be murder, starvation, torture going on somewhere. Even Big Brother would be a welcome break from the Diana fest. I'm sure she was very nice, after all she had to put up with being married into royalty/wealth and STILL had the piece of mind to shag famous sportsmen and travel the world (on tax payers money?) promoting charities. Good on her, she's dead now. Any chance we can just have one year without having to listen to the fat gay guy singing Candle in the Wind.

The real White House, Peel

Following on from the antics of some pissed up Pulrose scummers who decided to steal a bus and drive it through a shop window on FA Cup Final day my favourite pub in the world decided to stick this outside for the Charity Shield. Sometimes I really bloody miss the White House.

late nite observations

I was up late one night last week, casually surfing around the channels (during the adverts to Sexcetera. Sheesh) – and stumbled upon a play with soft core potential. Game on, right? Only, there was a woman to the side, staring back at me, furiously waving her arms all over the place. Took me a while to figure out that she wasn’t part of the nekkid rompings (which never materialised anyway) but a super-imposed woman giving it the hand jive for our hard of hearing brethren. She was signing away, very animated – but just one question. Why make her so goddamn big? She covered almost a third of the screen and was very distracting with the arms flailing and hands flidding. I thought they were supposed to be deaf – not blind.

And what’s wrong with subtitles anyway??

Stoopid PC

So. I bought this fancy shmancy computer that can do 2 quad-billion computations a second.

So why does it take so frickin long to boot up? Tell me that, heh.

And another thing. You never see news headlines ‘Fortune Teller wins lottery’. Hmmm.

Give it a rest . . .

Pop quiz. Can anyone tell me what the below blurb says? What it’s trying to communicate? Even what gawddamn language it’s in?

RAAUE: S’preevaadjagh yn çhaghteraght post-l shoh chammah’s coadanyn erbee currit marish as ta shoh coadit ec y leigh. Cha nhegin diu coipal ny cur eh da peiagh erbee elley ny ymmydey yn chooid t’ayn er aght erbee dyn kied leayr veih’n choyrtagh. Mannagh nee shiu yn enmyssagh kiarit jeh’n phost-l shoh, doll-shiu magh eh, my sailliu, as cur-shiu fys da’n choyrtagh cha leah as oddys shiu.
Cha nel kied currit da failleydagh ny jantagh erbee conaant y yannoo rish peiagh ny possan erbee lesh post-l er son Rheynn ny Boayrd Slattyssagh erbee jeh Reiltys Ellan Vannin dyn co-niartaghey scruit leayr veih Reireyder y Rheynn ny Boayrd Slattyssagh t’eh bentyn rish.

You could be forgiven for thinking it’s nerdy speak (Klingon, or an Elvish interpretation of a Monty Python sketch). But no. It’s Manx. A new initiative by the government has this warning tagged onto the end of all emails. Obviously to show how really up our arses us Manxies can crawl. The translation is as follows:

WARNING: This email message and any files transmitted with it are confidential and may be subject to legal privilege. You must not copy or deliver it to any other person or use the contents in any unauthorised manner without the express permission of the sender. If you are not the intended addressee of this e-mail, please delete it and notify the sender as soon as possible.
No employee or agent is authorised to conclude any binding agreement on behalf of any of the Departments or Statutory Boards of the Isle of Man Government with any party by e-mail without express written confirmation by a Manager of the relevant Department or Statutory Board.

I’m all for yer basic, honest to goodness, bit of pride in your country. Serve in the Army. Support a Rugby colour. Drink Blighty’s best bitter. But do not, under any circumstances, start to drag up ancient and forgotten trivia and parade it as pride.

The Manx language is a dead language. Ok – there has been resurgence over the past decade. Manx snippets on the radio and a bit in the Primary schools where Good Morning and Good Bye is parroted away with much joy. But don’t try to pretend that it has any value in todays Manx society other than to reinforce nationalistic feelings. Jumper wearing beardies may rant down the Rovers Return that it should be brought back and has a place in modern Manx society. It shouldn’t. And it doesn’t.

At least Welsh, a truly phlegmatic and obscure language, is still widely spoken in Wales (this has only been possible through the wide spread hatred of the English and their language, ‘English’) and does serve a purpose. World War Two and Welsh radio communications confounded the Germans and was considered ‘the unbreakable code’. So yay. Not even Nicholas Cage could fuck up a movie based on that premise! And it does make for amusing UK movies (see Evil Aliens for a good slasher flick with good use of Welsh). But Manx? As a modern language?

Give it a rest.