Friday, March 24, 2006

Funny how you never see....

Judy Finnegan and South Park's Tweek in the same room.

Judy Finnegan is one half of Richard and Judy. This is a daytime, magazine type program on Channel 4 here in the U.K. They are probably the most idiotic, sycophantic, schmoozy, ill-educated, amateurs on T.V.

Constantly bickering with each other, (they are married to each other) Richard seems to spend the days with his bollocks in her handbag; and Judy has her brain in her bra.

Richard is the type of dickhead that, along with Ben Elton, supports the feminists' view of "all men are twats" and that they have had a raw deal. Listen Richard, we get enough gobbiness from the females; they don't need your help. (this is a whole new future blog, me thinks)

Anyway, back to the hapless Judy.

I rest my case.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Can i have the scissors when you're finished? I want to slit my throat



Went to Wotton Bassett, Wiltshire, today. I did my business by 13:30 and, as you do, went to get my hair cut.
I had to wait for 20 minutes and listen to inane gossip between the teenage “stylist” and her equally spotty, track suited, teenage victim:

“He didn’t, did he?”
“He did. And then wiped it on the on table clothe.”
“Never –no way?”
“Way”

Seeking refuge in a glossy gossip magazine –which took precisely 30 seconds cover to cover- my turn arrived.

I sit in the seat in front of a very large, very harsh mirror.

“What do you want?”
I was tempted to ask for a loaf of bread and a pound of grapes, but considered it would go straight over her, bleach-blonde head. I settled for: “Hair cut.”, which went the way I thought the bread and grape comment would.
After several instructions she seemed to get the idea that as long as my hair was shorter on the way out than it was on the way in I would be well happy.

10 minutes’ of deafening silence, except for the click-click of scissors and her sniffing, later ( I decided not to push the idea of talking about: the weather, holidays, work etc.) she snipped her way to a half-decent job.

The obligatory offering-up of the mirror to the back of the head followed and confirmed that, beyond my wishful thinking; my bald patch had not miraculously “healed” itself.

Little did I know that the most humiliating part of the experience was to come, I got up and went to the desk to pay her.

“How much do I owe you?” (And don’t bother adding a tip)
“ Are you retired?”
“WHAT!!!???”
“You get a discount if you are: retired, pregnant or in the armed forces.”

Internally, my voice said: “Which side of your face wants slapping?”
In reality I said: “I’m not retired yet but my SAS death grip will finish you in flash. Do I get a discount for that?”
Guess what? Yup. Went straight over her bleach-blonde, spotty, uneducated neck plug.

Retired?! I know the lord has given me a few wrinkles but they are laughter lines, not an age thing. Honest.

Monday, February 27, 2006

If your name's not on the list, you're not coming in.



Delbut, Chris & Gary. The Red Cross' finest.

As we are so badly paid working for a major, world-wide charity, the Property department's building surveyors have taken to moonlighting as "Event security" in the evenings and weekends to support their poor, poverty stricken families.

We are trained in the following:

Manning the doors. - We don't do front doors, just back doors.

Handing out ticket stubs so you can leave your coat in the lobby. -We don't actually take the coats, just hand out the tickets. The coats will be handled by our specially trained "coat operatives"

Having curly wires stuffed in our ears, giving the impression we are in contact with an anonimous "head of security" (that will be George, who is not in this picture as he had to go somewhere with his wife. The poof)- Actually, we use Ipod earpieces (in Chris's case, the earpiece is his deafaid coz he's old and decrepit.)

Customer care. - We have modified our invoice authorisation stamps and will stamp all your guests on the forehead for ease of recognition. For regular patrons, we can organise an indelible stamp -probably a tattoo.

Standing at the bar looking hard and talking into our sleeve cuff.

Locking up after everyone has gone home.

And, as we are building surveyors, we can leave a list of all the damage caused to your venue following the event. I.e. blocked drains due to fag-butts down the urinals (mostly by me); holes in the wall where we have had to put someone's head through it.

Events covered:

Weddings, Bithday parties (up to the age of 14 or those from 65 onward -nothing in between), Christenings, Pub quizes, B-B-Q's,garden parties, village fetes and our speciality, shop openings.

Friday, February 24, 2006

It's that time again


The Who are on tour. Yippee. Tickets are expensive. Booo.I have to re-mortgage the house and put the kids into service with the local pimp to pay for the fucking things. That's if you can get them in the first place. No sooner have Ticketbastard.co.uk sold out, scalpers on ebay are offering them at extortionate prices. How the promoters allow this is beyond me.

Take a leaf out of Robbie Williams' book and make them available through The Who's site and get people's names typed on the ticket to stop this.

Anyway, as stupid as i am, i will be going to Liverpool and Bristol to see them and now have to earn some money to pay for it.

Disregarding the kids being available ( i think that's illegal) I will now be offering my body for the following.

* Sex -any blind person needing a shag -i'm ready. Or if needed for a S&M club i could bring the drinks around in PVC hot pants.
* Science - any doctor needing a body part for an up-and-coming transplant leave a message but keep in mind the following caveats.

Lungs -slightly tarnished with smoke.
Liver -still slightly tipsy due to Guinness -should dry out within a week.
Bladder- works ok but a bit full as I type this. Wait a minute...Ok, empty now.
Brain - I have one of sorts but I suggest not giving it to another scientist or similar academic.
Heart- Yes I have one but it belongs to someone else. (throws up in nearest bucket at the sentimentality)
Penis - This must go to someone/something really deserving. I.e. elephant, retiring racehorse, porn star etc. It would be a waste on anything else. (if anyone i know reads this they will not recognise the above description)

* Museum - Welsh museum of natural life, if you are interested, i can stand still for long periods and not smile when children poke me. (even without a stick up my arse)


So, you lucky people, give me a shout and grab what you want while it still functions.

Then again, i could always advertise on Ebay.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

St Dwynwen

It's valentine's day today. In Wales we also have our own version: St Dwynwen's Day.(26th January) She is the patron Saint of Luurve.

Instead of giving cards,flowers,chocolates,blowjobs etc., to celebrate we have certain courting rituals, which are centuries old.

The women must (in order to demonstrate their feelings for us men):

Ride a donkey naked accross the village green -backwards- while singing, "Does my Ass look big in this?" (popular Welsh folk song c.1205 (that's a date, not the time))

Once the Donkey has tired, the lady has to milk it and offer the proceeds to her lover's nephew's uncle. If he chooses not to slurp from the bucket of love, then her advance can not...advance any further without the intervention of the courts.

If he does partake in the creamy libation then she can then dance the dance of the merry virgin, the steps of which are closely watched. This is because if the lady isn't a virgin then it will be possible to tell so from the movement in her hips. One wrong move and it's all over.

The men, on the other hand, have to demonstrate his intentions by putting Daffodils in every orifice, wrapping himself in the leaf of the leak and tying it with baling twine. He is then delivered by horse and trap to the rear entrance of her mother's house and once unwrapped, dangling his knob out while jumping on one leg.

I don't know the outcome if this doesn't work as there are no recorded failiures! Come on, how could you girlies refuse that?

Anyway, here is a picture of St Dwynwen. Obviously, she is still able to dance the dance of the virgin; who'd give that one?

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Tagged

Molly, love her sweet heart, "tagged" me the other day. This means that you have to list 5 interesting "facts" about yourself. I know it's not law but i thought i'd join in anyway.

1) Up until the age of 16, i had an imaginary dog called Fido. Fido came with me everywhere -including school. Fido tended to get me in trouble but i managed to fool some of the more... stupid teachers into believing that Fido was real. I would bark, open the door, and let Fido out of the classroom at regular intervals. Some of the teachers would open the door to see where the dog had gone. D'oh.
When i was about 7, we were on our way on holiday when i made my Dad stop, open the door of the car, and let Fido in because i had forgotton him.

2) I had the chance of a promising career as a professional football player. Playing in the local league, i was "spotted" by a scout from Cardiff City and asked for trials. Long story short, i didn't go because i was on holiday. Reality is, i had found cigarettes, drink, and shagging. I was also hanicapped with a burst eardrum from a smack around the head from my Maths teacher "Killer" Curtis. No doubt i was being cheeky but i have always blamed it on Fido. That fucking dog.

3)I once kissed a bloke -tongues and everything. In my defence, i did know the bloke and we are still good friends. Some of you more broadminded people out there will say, that's cool, being gay is ok. If only it was like that. The reason we did it was we tried to get two girls to kiss and they said, only if you do first. Being rather perverted and pissed, we agreed. Needless to say, they didn't keep their side of the bargain.

4)When on a drinking binge in Swansea one night. Our minibus had left without me and my mate. (the one mentioned above) While we were working out how to get home (some 20 miles away) i was caught short in the toilet department. Not a wee wee but a dump. (english vernacular for shit). Anyway, no public toilets available but plenty of boats in the harbour. I climbed aboard and did the business over the side. In the meantime my mate had gone walkabout, found a wallet with £30 in it.

So two apologies. If you returned to your boat one morning only to find your flag was used as toilet paper; or if you lost a wallet and £30 -sorry.

5) It's my birthday today and i'm 47. I hate having birthdays apart from the pressies and getting spoilt.My brain feels 27, but my body feels 57. I have one shaved leg, a bald patch (not a big one though)dodgy knees, i smoke too much and don't drink enough. I have good friends, a great family and life at the moment is good.

Sorry for the boring facts but i did warn people that i'm not that interesting.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Wales in the Thames?? eh,eh.

You may have heard about Wales in the Thames.

The canny Welsh people managed to pass this off as a stray Whale in the Thames. Tom Jones, sometime crooner and sometime Welsh activist, dressed up in a rubber suit in order to get the press hoodwinked into thinking that a large mammal had found its way up the river.

While he was doing this, Shirley Bassey managed to beach her self alongside the embankment in readiness to invade the English capital. The Paddington area of London has long been a stronghold of the displaced Taffy. MI6 have been monitoring the movements of the Paddington dwellers, which made it hard for them to spread the word outside this district. The M4 –Wales’ own foreign security force – hatched the plan to invade from without, rather than within, with great success. Not since we beat the English football team 4-1 in 1980 has the word Wales been on everyone’s lips so often.

So what of the future?

Now Shirley has infiltrated large parts of Twickenham and Richmond, and Tom has been released from the custody of London Zoo aquarium, the further invasion will start in earnest in February. Disguised as the Welsh rugby squad, a crack team of Welsh fusiliers will storm Twickenham stadium - backed up by foraging agents wearing daffodils and large leeks pretending to be rugby supporters on a piss-up – and kidnap Ken Livingstone, Mayor of London.

The demands?

  • More Caerphilly cheese on the shelves of Fortnum & Mason

  • A stop on us having to pay a toll on the Severn crossing to get back in to Wales

  • Laws passed to make it illegal for English men to say: “There’s lovely” –when stereotyping the Welsh accent –and sounding like a Pakistani in doing so.

  • They must find room for the city of Newport somewhere east of London so it’s further away from us here in Wales –we don’t want them anymore.

  • £120 in unmarked fivers.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

I will be back

i haven't posted here for a while. things have been so hectic. A bit of family trauma and a Panto to rehearse for.

I am sorting out the sound system and taking the role of Long John Silver. I first thought that i was asked to play the part of Long John for Freudian reasons but...alas no.

I will be back to regular blogging very shortly.

Monday, December 26, 2005

My Mum is mental


Christmas day is over and today is Boxing day. If my Dad was still alive he would have been 80 today so my thoughts are with him. He died 4 days into the new millennium following a stroke on New Year's day, 2000.

That's the maudlin bit over.

My Mum, Marj, who lives next door to me with my Sister and Nephew, is 76 in January and she is a nutter. Not in a medically recognised way but you know what i mean.

I took these photo's today because they bring to mind what my Father had to go through on a daily basis living with Marj.

Marj likes nothing better than to potter in the garden or take a saw to things -even better if she can take a saw to things in the garden. You can often find her trundling down the garden path -tooled up- to cut things in half.

To my Dad's chagrin she would also enjoy sawing things in the house -not take things into the house and saw them to bits - but saw things that belonged in the house.

If the table in the kitchen rocked a little she would not prop something under the one leg, oh no, she would saw the other 3 legs instead.

Dad had gone out instead of mowing the lawns. This made Marj mad and when Marj is mad out comes the saw.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, my Dad expected the bed to be in tact when he came home and instead, it was about a foot lower and as he went to get in, it wasn't where he expected it to be and promptly fell in, rather than slink in.
"Tell me it's lower because you just took one mattress off and we can make it better in the morning", he said.
"Ah", she replied.
"You sawed the legs off, didn't you?" , he said.
"Yup", she said.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Happy xmas to all my readers

Not blogged for a while and had hoped for something a tad more interesting/funny to post but that will have to wait til next time.

So you'll have to do with a simple xmas message.

I hope you all have a good Christmas but if you don't subscribe to that -for any reason - then enjoy the holiday and let those of us who subscribe to the overly-hyped bullshit do so, and let us enjoy calling it Christmas too and not some insidious P.C. alternative.
















I promised Molly i would put up a photo of the tree so here it is.
In the top one, you can just about make out Alice in her ballet gear in the photo on the wall.

The other photo is of : Alice, my wife Sarah and Rosie.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

It's not every day...

It's not every day you get overtaken by two loaves of bread when driving on the M4. But yesterday was my day.

There I was trundling along the outside lane of the M4 just outside Bristol when the car in front broke down. I stopped and waited to get in the middle lane when all of a sudden, two loaves of bread went past. I kid you not. A blue loaf of bread and a red loaf of bread doing about 60 mph.

Like any other normal person would at 8:30 in the morning, I put it down to tiredness and old age and made a mental note to revisit the optician.

Lo and behold, when my lane got moving again, I passed them; only this time the red one was in front.

The "loaves of bread" were in fact VW camper-style vans done up complete with idiotic looking people driving them.

So I checked -as you do -their web site. Look what I found. If nothing else, I can now postpone the trip to the head doctor. Turns out you can win a chance to drive one. Yeah, right. I'd rather stick a banjo up my arse - round end first.












Oh, before I forget. You tossers out there who work for the Highways department. It took me 4 fucking hours to get to west London yesterday instead of the normal 2 1/2 .

This is because you idiots have collected the most cones you can find and arbitrarily put them along the hard shoulder for as many miles as you can, thus slowing the traffic down to a crawl along most of the 150 mile stretch. And why? So you can carry out work to put up driver information boards, which will tell us there are delays due to slow-moving traffic! How Englishly ironic is that?

When the work is done, we can now be happy in the knowledge that we are not moving anywhere because it will be written on a board the size of Kent. I have news for you: WE ALREADY KNOW WE ARE NOT MOVING -Arse Wipes. If you have our interests at heart, put a movie on the fucking things and turn the M4 into a drive-in movie carpark; I could have watched the Lord of The Ring trilogy the time I spent in the carpark yesterday.

P.S.

If you do turn it into a drive-in, can we have some large-breasted women offering snacks at frequent intervals, please?

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Oh Crap

You'll have to forgive the last blog, not exactly a professional lay out of photo's ay?

Basement Jam




Elena Perez kindly sent me these photos all the way from Madrid, Spain. Elena has not got a blog but wanted to share these with you.

BTW Elena is the one in the photo with Simon.

Thanks Elena.






















Friday, December 02, 2005

I Hate London Rant.

Nah, not really; London is an o.k. place, it's just the taxi drivers who are wankers.

We now have 24 hour opening in some pubs in the U.K. but do you think i could find one in London on Wednesday? Correct -no. So after being forced to leave the pub at 11pm, we tried flagging a taxi down to take us into Soho. There's more chance me growing breasts.

So to all you taxi drivers in London land, the home of people who don't speak to each other, fuck you, i went home not pissed(drunk) enough thanks to you.

Monday, November 28, 2005

The ever-evolving sheep.

It is a little known fact that sheep are very intelligent. Although there are many different breeds, the Welsh version is probably the cleverest. I kid you not. (that's an unintended Goat pun there)

In terms of culture etc., you can split Wales, and its sheep, into the North and South variety.

In the north, they have proper mountain ranges. E.G. Snowdonia. In the south we have "mountains". When you consider that we call a small hump in a field a hill, you can imagine what we call mountains.

I digress.

Based on the above terrain, our sheep have evolved differently, but very, very ingeniously. I will tell you about the southern sheep as they are the ones I know best. (not in a biblical way tho)

Thousands of years ago, before the invasion of Anglo Saxons and Romans, sheep were happy grazing on the flatlands of the Vale of Glamorgan and other such places. Due to the ever-expanding population of our fair country the sheep were pushed up to the hilly places where man was less prevalent. Trouble was, sheep weren't much good on the slopes. If they pointed directly down the hill, all the blood would rush to their heads causing them to pass out. If they pointed directly up the hill men of questionable sexual preference would creep up on them and have their wicked way.
To combat this the sheep, en mass, decided that the desired stance was across the slope, thus canceling out the previous risks.

This brought a further problem: Standing sideways meant that they were leaning slightly and, in high winds, they would fall over.

Mother nature took over and sheep, through natural evolution, developed shorter legs on one side of their body; some left-handed, some right. You may think I'm kidding (another goat pun) but this has been scientifically proved. Although early scientists thought that the sheep just dug holes to put their legs in, work by the Welsh Naturalist, David David (or Dai twice as he was known), made them a laughing stock. "It was simple", he said, "how can sheep dig holes?, they can't hold a shovel!" subsequent measuring of the sheep has indeed shown that the legs are different lengths.

The only thing I know about north Wales sheep is that, due to the extent of rainfall, they have webbed feet at the end of their differently sized legs. Of course, it goes without saying (but I will anyway), that the extent of the differing leg size is more pronounced in the north due to the steeper slope.


Here is a picture of Dai Twice measuring a sheep. This is a right-handed sheep. Note that the sheep's front left and rear left legs are bent at the knee. This is because it is standing on level ground and must compensate for the shorter right legs. You will also note that Dai's wearing a small tractor tyre on his head. This helps when the male sheep want to head-butt him when he's trying to "milk" them.

Friday, November 25, 2005

A Hermaphrodite Snow Sculpture

It started snowing here about 12pm last night. By the time I got up we had about 4" of snow. (That's 10cm in foreign language)

For those of you who don't know how it works over here, we haven't had much snow in the last 10 years' or so. When it comes it's a big deal. Everyone goes to Tesco's and buys the whole effing place. People with trolleys full of bread, milk and anything else not nailed down, batter the crap out of each other to get back to their cars before it even starts snowing.

Why?

Because at the merest hint of a snowdrop, the roads get blocked. Our infrastructure here relies on under-funded local councils gritting the road. They do their best, love them, but it's crap.

For the love of God how do you manage in Canada? If the brits still ran it you would be shut for half of the year.

K, rant over. The upside of the snow is that it looks so Goddamn pretty. I took some photos this morning. The scenic one looks over my back garden toward the north Devon/Somerset coast line. (usually visible on a clear day).













The next is of Tommy. He is standing still trying to camouflage himself so he doesn't have to go for a walk. (You are white, Tommy, but not that white, dude.)
















The last photo is my snow sculpture. To be politically correct (and the aforementioned council are trying to ban the word Christmas for the offence it causes) we can no longer build snowmen. No, it excludes snow-women. So to keep it equal I built a hermaphrodite one. It has tits and a knob too!. Classic.


Tuesday, November 15, 2005

My studio!


I watched a short film made by Pete Townshend yesterday; he took us on a tour of his home studio. Ha, I thought. I have one too!

Trouble is, compared to his, mine is a bit of a joke. No, a really big joke with the bestest, funniest punch-line in the world.

I know I don't have his money (I don't have any money, it's borrowed) so I guess it can't be expected ay?

Anyway, I have a Spirit SX mixing desk powered by a 100watt Yamaha amp and Tannoy Reveal, passive speakers.

The small gray unit is an 8 track Tascam DP-01FX. I cant make up my mind whether to use this or Cubasis, which I have on my PC so I tend to alternate between the two. I also have Fruity Loops on the PC, which I use for drum loops etc and other weird sounds.

I have 3 mics of varying ability and I recently bought an AP audio condensing mic. I never heard of it but the guy in the shop said they were very good -especially at the price and I have to agree. Not a Rode or AKG but it has a great sound and is not overly sensitive. Great for recording the ambient drum sounds.

My other kit comprises of: An EKO acoustic guitar, which I've had for 28 years, a Washburn, Les Paul copy (hanging on the wall), a Yamaha SY35 keyboard and a Tama Rockstar drum kit.

Oh, hours of fun can be had with this lot. If only I had someone to show me how to put it all together.

Pete Townshend, eat your heart out loser.

P.S. The photograph on the wall to the left of the PC is unique. It is of Roger Daltrey at the NEC, Birmingham, '89 during the Tommy tour. I took it myself but the flash didn't work, which in the end worked out better. The two white dots on the picture are used PT plectrums. oh, the crap i keep.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

I hate Rugby

For those of you uninitiated people, the UK is basically four countries united by hundreds of years' of infighting. (Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland)

People claim -although some historians disagree- that the Welsh are the indigenous people of this land; akin to the American Indians and Australian Aborigine.
To be frank, I couldn't care less if we are, or are not. What I do care about is that I was born, bred and live to this day in Wales. I speak the lingo a bit, but I'm not fluent.

It has long been held (mostly by the Welsh but by others who wish to stereotype us) that ALL Welsh people:
  • Are good singers
  • Are short; and ginger of head
  • Live like Trolls in a cave
  • Untrustworthy
  • Drink too much
  • We shag sheep
  • (and worse of all) we all like Rugby.

My answer to these are:

  • Have you heard Charlotte Church lately? Can't hold a tune in a bucket.
  • Ok, got me on that one.
  • We now have electricity in our caves so we now call them apartments.
  • No, we're not, trust me
  • Ok, got me on that one too
  • Er...
  • Oh no we fucking don't.

I hate living here when we have an international rugby match playing. For weeks before, our national newspaper, The Western Mail has it on the front page as well as several of the sport's pages. The front page for God's sake! The local news has endless interviews with fuckwit, ex players who can just about pronounce their own name -let alone conduct a lucid chat; We have mini dramas between programs showing idiotic fans with large daffodils; and that twat, Max Boyce, sings crappy comedy songs.

WHY?

The game is played by dunces, whose greatest collective achievement is sticking their heads between each others' arse and falling over.

The game is watched by overweight lardarses whose main ambition is to wave at themselves when on camera. And that's just the women. (the guys are too stupid to do two things at once. i.e. wave and stand up)

And if that doesn't put you off, there is always Eddie fucking Butler! What a git.

I really can't see why the game is so revered in this country -it's not as if we are any good at it.

More people watch Cardiff City soccer team train than actually go to a first-class rugby club game in Cardiff.

So, in winding up my rant I would like to offer this: You can abuse me as much as you want; you can call me untrustworthy; you can insult my cave; you can say I speak a dying language. But please, please, please, do not call me a rugby supporter.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Bugger

A tad harder today. i'm in the office and trying to keep busy but it keeps popping into my head. "It's fag time."
I am resisting by replying, "Ok, i'll have one after doing so-and-so." That keeps it at bay for a while. I am wearing a patch today and nearly ripped it off my arm, rolled it up and set light to it so i could smoke that instead but i guess that would just be stupid.

Off on a couple of visits tomorrow so that should keep my brain more occupied. Then again, i have to go to Swansea and Newport and if you have ever been there, you will understand that they are enough to make the Pope smoke dope so...

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Day 1

Today i attempted to give up smoking. I usually do about 20 a day.

I had to drive to Bristol today for a seminar and i find that i smoke quite a lot when driving, so it was a tough start to the day but i made it- nicotine-free. Having to sit in a large lecture theatre for hours on end also helped. I buckled at 2PM though. Some colleagues went out for a smoke at lunch time and i just had to join in. Damn it.

I also had one on the way home. My excuse is that it takes about 90 minutes to drive home and the traffic was heavy. I actually bought a pack of 10 on the way back and have left them in the car. Perhaps i should get the kids to hide them.

Anyway. I tried - i failed, but not as badly as i thought. I always have the patches to drop back on if it gets any worse.