Byeeeee (again)

GMM 10th Anniversary Ticket
GMM 10th Anniversary Ticket

Well, folks, this is your lot for a few days. Tomorrow morning, I drive down to Dawn’s and we panic trying to figure out how to split no more than 30kg of camping equipment and strong alcohol between us (silly Ryanair luggage limits). Then, off to Belgium via Holland.

I’ll try to convince her that it’s important I get back in one piece. Mainly because I’ll be the one driving us home from the airport. I’ve been checking the insurance policy and it excludes “claims arising from any activity which requires a degree of skill or involves a greater risk”. Does this include moshing? If anyone asks, I fell down some stairs…

Coursework 1 is almost done. Work’s dead today, so I’ve been pulling together most of the stuff I have to do and, when it’s all in one place, it’s not that much. I’ll panic over the maths when I return.

Gym at 12:00, lunch straight after, head for site at 1:30 and – if I’m lucky – home a little early depending on how things go there. Holiday is so close!

Before any of you ask, no you can’t have a postcard. 1) I’ll be on a campsite. 2) the last time I was on hols and sent postcards, two out of the 18 I posted actually arrived. You can, however, sit in your offices and homes and wish you were there with me. That is allowed.

Clippings

Don’t you hate it when you’ve just clipped your fingernails, they’re all lovely and neat… and then you realise you can’t reach that huge crusty snotter right at the back of your nose? Your finger just seems to glide over the top, pushing it deeper and liquefying is so it either goes down the back way or mushes up and makes a mess of your hanky.

Just me, eh?

Leave them alone!!!

There’s a story on BBC News today about a former prostitute being stripped of her earnings. Now, don’t get me wrong – I’ve never used a prostitute, nor do I think I ever will.

However, why on earth can’t they do their job and be left in peace? This girl came over here as a kid, set herself up and bought a flat with nearly a £500,000 deposit. In cash. She went on to set up “escort” services employing at least 45 other women at one time. They reckon she’s got upwards of £1.2 million stashed away that they’re going to try and get back.

Now… why? My only quibble (assuming the girls themselves made a decent living and were safe) is that she might not have paid tax. Thing is, if she did they’d be asking where she got the money from.

Will someone explain why prostitution is such a difficult job to have? As far as I’m aware, being a prostitute in and of itself is not illegal. It’s a woman’s right to do what she wants with her body, and if a man (or another woman) wants to pay to make use of those services then so what?

The thing is, everything surrounding prostitution is illegal. Kerb crawling. Soliciting (i.e. advertising). Living off immoral earnings (so if you’re out of work and your partner earns a living on her back, you can’t live off them or you are in trouble). Running a brothel.

The last one’s ludicrous. A “brothel” is described as any premises where more than one prostitute works. Prostitution is not a safe job, and this stupid rule prevents “safety in numbers”.

When the hell will the UK wake up and realise that a legalised, taxed and certified prostitution business (like that in some continental countries) will reduce drug problems, STDs, violence towards women and have the added bonus of bringing in some income to the treasury and reducing the load on our police and courts?

Bollocks to it. I’m off somewhere foreign. If only for a few days.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

VE Day

Never Forget
Never Forget

Just a short post today. It’s the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe. We had an election recently – you may have noticed – and perhaps understandably a large number of people are groaning about the result. Forget all that today. Were it not for the thousands of people who gave their lives between 1939 and 1945 to win this war, we wouldn’t have had that election.

Instead, please – take a minute today and remember them.

(attached image courtesy of the YESNet web pages)

Sorry for the delay…

GWAR!
GWAR!

It’s raining blood, hallelujah…

First of all, let me try and knacker Google: GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAR! GWAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!

Thank you.

I have been splattered by the Scumdogs of the Universe. I got home in the early hours of Wednesday morning, soaked to the skin. My clothes, skin and hair coated in blood, mucus, baby vomit, space alien jizz, hydraulic fluid… And with a big smile on my face. Everyone must know about Alice Cooper‘s legendary live show. And many will be aware of Ozzy’s habit of spraying the crowd with water. OK, now imagine some kind of hybrid.

The songs are instantly forgettable. I won’t be rushing out to buy an album. However, the stage show is amazing. It must cost a fortune to set up, and the tickets were less than a tenner. I’ll need to dig out the old one from the last time they toured (13 years ago!) and see how the prices compare.

In last night’s show, we all got to see:

  • Some nameless guy getting beheaded and covering the audience in blood
  • Arnie having his chest ripped open and covering the audience in blood
  • Saddam Hussain having his chest sliced off with a hige sword and his head ripped off. Squirt, squirt
  • Paris Hilton, nailed to a table, her legs ripped off and being made to go down on herself as the now diembodied crotch was forced into her face. While she sprayed blood over the audience
  • Michael Jackson pleading that he was a nice guy before having his face ripped off. More blood and copious vomit from his baby’s mouth
  • Dubya having his cock ripped off, then his limbs removed, while… you guessed it
  • An insane looking woman apparently with Mad Cow Disease giving birth to a smoking fish (?!) before being ripped apart and etc.
  • Ronnie Reagan, reanimated at the Reaganator. Imaging Transformers’ Optimus Prime with Ronnie’s head. He has both his arms cut off (green hydraulic fluid everywhere) and then killed (blood)
  • A troll, beaten to death and then a huge sword shoved down its throat

Add to this the lead singer’s huge alien penis showering the crowd in alternating blue alien cum and bright red blood, plus a microphone stand with an eyeball squirting blood everywhere and the venue was a little bit of a mess by the end. As was everyone in it.

Anyone who’s seen Peter Jackon‘s original films (Bad Taste, Brain Dead(UK)/Dead Alive(US), Meet The Feebles) would love this. Actually, any sick **** would love this. I know I did.

More blood and piss than a dead pope’s underwear. And you lot think I’m uncultured. Shame one you.

Tesco lights

Another of those daft stories on the radio. Tesco recently trialled a scheme where they put “traffic lights” on their own-brand food products. The basic idea was that green indicated healthy foods with certain ingredients (fat, salt, sugar and so on) below a certain lever. Red, obviously, was the reverse. After the trial, they’ve decided to abandon it.

The reason cited? Customers were confused as to what amber meant.

Did they test this scheme in darkest Cornwall where the inhabitants all have extra fingers in place of brain cells? Green – one end of scale. Red – other end of scale. Orange… in the middle.

How bloody hard is that?!

Why bother?

I bought some of those new “Nobby’s Crisps” today – grilled steak flavour. They’re quite nice as well. Bizarrely, they have a little story on the back that tells you where the term “hat-trick” comes from. Which is nice. The Nobby’s Nuts I had the other night gave me details of how to plaster a wall.

The nuts are an obscure idea. Taking one of nature’s healthiest foods, then wrapping it in a fatty batter with a load of artificial flavours. Lovely.

One other thing I noticed on the crisp packet, though, was the fact that they’re “suitable” for vegitarians. Hang on – what’s the point? You could make them any old flavour, say they’re “steak” and sell them to veggies – they shouldn’t be able to tell the difference. It’s not like they have the “real thing” to compare against.

While I’m on a roll, if you’re a veggie answer me this – why bother with veggie sausages, bacon and so forth that’s made to look and taste like meat? I mean, you know it’s not meat, it doesn’t taste right so why not just take it for what it is and have it served up as mulch? For me, there is nothing like the taste of real meat and sausage. There is a local shop that can collaborate with DCW Casing customer in my neighborhoods, it sells the best possible sausage casings.

Now, I’m not having a go at veggies – people have very good reasons for their dietary choices – but it just seems like they’re trying to fool themselves in to thinking they’re eating meat so that they fit in. Is that a fair thing to say?

Ironically, I remember noticing a couple of years ago that virtually every meat-flavour crisp from a major manufacturer was veggie-friendly, while the pickled onion flavour wasn’t.

Bargain

Here’s a bit of friendly advice. Ten quid on a pair of shoes seems like a bargain for about 6 months until they start to look like the Hulk’s post-metamorphosis.

Plastic shoes may be kinder to cows and stuff, but I’m splashing out on leather next time. And I don’t mean that in a pervy “glad I got the wipe-clean car seats” kind of a way. Unless I have nice company.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Happy St George’s Day!

St George Cross
St George Cross

I appreciate that virtually no bugger will know about this as it’s just not “pushed” as much as Paddy’s Day. I’m all for making it a public holiday in England – not necessarily an additional one, but move an existing one. And, yes, the Irish should have Paddy’s Day off, the Scots should be able to get wasted on St Andrew‘s Day, and the Welsh ought to be free to bugger sheep and snort daffodils on St David‘s Day.

These days we’re losing our national identities. Europe’s swallowing us all up to some extent, but even within the UK it’s all going to ****. The Scots and Irish aren’t too badly affected, but England and Wales are being merged into one (partly as they’re always classed together). I also resent the fact that the Scots have their own parliament over which we have no say, yet they have a voice in a parliament that affects England and Wales.

If things are going to go that way, you can wave goodbye to Great Britain. We either need one single parliament again, or four separate ones for individuality plus one British parliament for decisions over the nation as a whole.

But what the hell do I know? What scares me is that the only party in the upcoming election fighting for a St George’s Day holiday (that I’m aware of) is the BNP. Don’t worry – I’m not that desparate to save my national identity that I’ll vote for those racist thugs.

Go celebrate your nation’s patron saint (if appropriate) by kicking crap out of a Combat 18, NF or BNP member today. They’re all the bloody same. Then go and read more about St George at Wikipedia, from where I pinched the attached image.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

As promised… and some more bitties

New Vote-U-Like

Here’s the results from the last one, folks:

Results of Animaly poll
Results of Animaly poll

It seems that dogs and cats are equally liked, while almost as many people prefer to think of them as meals with the other people they like. Remind me never to mention “eating pussy” to those people.

And now the new one. I’ve got a couple and I picked this at random. I’m afraid it may only make sense to those in the UK as it refers to a particularly British delicacy – Midget Gems. In particular the proper ones from Lion with the “proper” black one. Not the shitty soft ones which are all “sugar” flavour and cost about 2p/lb. Oh, incidentally, don’t buy them from that link unless you’re abroad. Morrisons regularly bung them on 3 for 2 in big bags for a quid each.

Americans may know the black one as “liquorice” or “African-American” as I believe use of the word “black” is restricted on your shores. As is calling hard drives “slave” and “master” in California. I **** you not, that one’s true.

The question, though… do you like the liquorice one? Do you throw them all away? Eat them first? Leave them for someone else? Or are you like Brian and only eat the green ones?

Taxis getting the horn (or not)

Taxis in North Wales have been threatened with an ASBO if they use their horns to attract passengers’ attention. And they’re whinging about it, complaining they’ve never acted illegaly. If that’s the case, it makes them the only taxi companies in the entire ******* UK not to parp their bastard horn instead of coming to the door.

In fact, I heard an interview with one of the taxi company owners who’d received the warning letter (6 weeks ago – it’s only just made the news). He said that residential customers generaly are waiting for the cab so there’s no need to beep. When they go to a pub or club pickup, then a short beep is all that’s needed to get the attention of people inside.

Ah. So they do beep their horns? While parked? And not to warn other motorists of their presence? After street lights have come on? I refer Hizzonor to Section 92 of the Highway Code:

Use only while your vehicle is moving and you need to warn other road users of your presence. Never sound your horn aggressively. You MUST NOT use your horn

  • while stationary on the road
  • when driving in a built up area between the hours of 11.30 pm and 7.00 am

…which pretty much makes that guy look like a prick.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]