Things I have noticed since being single...

...and sharing a flat with a mate.

1. Two rolls of toilet paper last two weeks. Previously, four would last less than one week. And I can't really blame the daughter as she is in boarding school from Monday to Friday.

2. The washing machine is not permanently on. See "1" as again the daughter cannot be held accountable. In fact, the washing is on twice per week - once when my flatmate does his and once when I do mine.

3. Nor is the tumble dryer. See 1 and 2, above.

4. The bath remains clean and not as slippery as sheet ice, due to the fact that no perfumed oils or other such shite are hermetically sealed to it as a result of men preferring quick showers and proper soap.

5. Razors remain mine.

6. I am no longer awoken at 7am by the drone of a hairdryer and accompanying muttering about "frizz".

7. All my tools remain where I left them.

8. The TV now shows documentaries and the news or some sport. Not soaps. Or reality TV shite generally emanating from America.

9. Being awoken by snoring has ceased...

10... As has the 2.30am request to get a glass of water...

Whatever happens

The farcical scenes of Polling Stations running out of ballot papers, stupid Northerners or Students not turning up in time or with the wrong paperwork, staying open later than the 10pm deadline et al. means there will be a good chance of all and sundry calling "foul".

A re-run is an absolute certainty.

Hopefully OH will get even more votes next time.

Don't be idle

North Lincolnshire plans to introduce £20 fines to people who leave their car engines running whilst parked, because of climutchange.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/humber/8542728.stm

The power is being given to parking attendants who will use their "common sense" when deciding whether a fine should be imposed. Firstly, I don't think I have met a parking attendant who has "common sense" and secondly, I paid for the petrol so I will use it how I bloody well want!

How long before parking attendants will be checking the depth of tread on your tyres, or whether there are any cracks in your windscreen?

Utter, utter wank.


More here - http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1254859/Anger-drivers-face-fine-leaving-engine-running-parked.html

Laughable

I suppose it was inevitable - we poor smokers who now have to venture outside the pub for a ciggy are still killing everyone; only now with THIRD-HAND SMOKE.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8503870.stm

I can't wait to read read Leg-Iron on this one.


UPDATE: Just read it - http://underdogsbiteupwards.blogspot.com/2010/02/nine-hundredth-hand-smoke.html.

Myopia

I've been in Swine Town for a few days and made a glib comment on another forum about how the natives here are so carrot-crunchingly yokelish that they still point at aeroplanes.

On reflection, however, I remembered that Wootton Bassett is nearby and it may be that they are simply wondering what the cargo is in any of the countless military aircraft that pass overhead.


Still, that nice Mr Obama has pledged a further 30,000 American troops with a "clear military strategy" in a bid to bring down the Taliban quickly and once-and-for-all.

History teaches us many things - why is it that the decision makers always choose to ignore them?

Another one bites the rug - sorry, dust.

Soooo...

Matt's ex-"husband" has hanged himself. Tragic, I suppose, but not all together unsurprising. And definitely not a loss.

I can't help seeing a certain resemblance to another pile of foetid self-loving, desperately-seeking-continued stardom; the asset to humanity they call Russell Brand.

Now, what poofs what to do in their own quarters is entirely up to them - each to their own - but what this case seems to highlight is the "spotlight" is what they crave the most. This trait is by no means limited to pink-oboe players, you only have to look at a red-top to see the sordid unravelling of grubby details some are prepared to disclose in order to keep column inches.

And why is this? The simple answer is that "celebrity" is what far too big a portion of this fucked-up country aspire to. And why do they aspire to this? Simple - it's all they have. They are poorly educated, unemployable sofa-surfers that think everything that is piped down the TV cable or beamed to the satellite dish is gospel. Their education and life-experiences to date are so shambolic that even they - the mongest of the mongs - realise that their only escape is to become one of the fucktards they ogle at whilst munching their KFCs and supping on wife-beater or White Lightning.

ALL newspapers now have a duty to off-load the celebrity adoration and start printing stories that may, in the fullness of time, lead to the youth of today seeking a more worthwhile route than being the subject of an 0870 phone-in poll.

ALL TV stations now must put on more David Attenborough and less Jeremy Kyle.

And ALL those who think celebrity is the ultimate goal should go for it. And then hang themselves when it all goes wrong. You won't be missed.

Hear, hear!

I think this sums it up just perfectly.

Old Holborn nails it

Enough now

From the on-line comic, LabourLost, a propsal that we should carry cards in order to purchase tobacco and booze.

http://www.labourlist.org/drinkers-licences-a-radical-new-way-to-curb-excess-cowan

FUCK OFF. JUST FUCK RIGHT OFF YOU IMBECILIC FUCK-WITTED SCABBY CUNT PUSTULES.

H/T to OH

When Marketeers fuck up...

Oh dear, Young's. You really, really, should pay more attention to the small print in your offers.

So far I personally must have had over £50 worth of free booze and I have given countless vouchers to the pensioners who don't have computers or printers. The £11 or so they save each day now means that most of them can afford proper food, as opposed to living off out-of-date smoked haddock and cat food.

Hell, some of them may even be able to take their cardigans to the launderette now and although I may miss the musty smell and the unique stain patterns, the look on their wrinkly faces when they come in all spruced up will be worth it.

For this public service, Young's, we salute you.

"Underlying Health Problems"

The vast majority of those that have died from swine flu have all, allegedly, had "underlying health problems".

That's probably true.

But why on earth haven't they told us what these problems were? How are we meant to try and judge how dangerous this virus is, unless we know how ill you have to be in the first place for it to be a real worry. If they had rabies, lung cancer, double pneumonia, malaria, ebola or something like that then I would think "fine, they were probably going pop their cork anyway".

But what if they only had a bit of mild asthma? Or athletes foot? Or hay-fever? I would certainly start being a bit more concerned if that were the case.

So why the secrecy? Or is it a conscious decision to keep the full facts at bay as long as possible to avoid potential panic?

They are very quick to ram fuck-witted advice like "Catch it, bin it, kill" down our throats and send Janet and John leaflets to all and sundry, but this is typical of this administration - being seen to be doing something whilst all the time they simply don't have a clue about the real issues. Just look at the economy, for example.

I have no doubt that someone in my immediate family will contract the virus - it would just be nice to know whether I am more likely to buy them a box of tissues and some Lockets, or a wooden casket.

'Snot too much to ask, is it?


Oh - I forgot, it's this government I'm talking about; truth, honesty and decency are alien concepts to the stinking pile of squalid, rancid cuntwafts.

Scotland

Five days up near the Firth of Forth or Fifth of Forth or whatever it's called.

Natives most pleasant even if there is a high incidence of some form of physical and/or mental palsy. Is there a chemical works near here? Has there been some sort of ongoing leakage?

Splendid breakfasts and food generally, booze a lot cheaper than Surrey and the the vast majority the mongnatives have great senses of humour and sharp minds.

How, then, can this be the country responsible for unleashing the likes of Bruin and Darling - to name but two - into Westminster to utterly fist-fuck the entire economy?

I shall ponder that whilst I tuck into some Haggis Patties rolled in Pinhead Oatmeal.

Final resting place

The sad demise of a great talent.

R.I.P.

She was into majors, not minors

Your Country Needs You

Some dodgy research suggests that treating smoking related illnesses could cost up £5 billion p.a.

A previous BBC article has a different take on it :-

"It said ordinary people were better equipped to consider the arguments than the government, "perhaps because the UK public does not have to consider directly the £9.3bn per year raised in tax revenue on tobacco".

In comparison, the £1.5bn cost to the NHS of smoking-related diseases was "paltry", the Lancet argued"

Leaving aside the very questionable statistics, one thing is entirely clear; smoking generates shed loads of money for the exchequer and at the moment they need every penny they can get. The reports also state that about 20% of adults smoke, so here's an idea;

Get that percentage up to 50% for the next five years, the revenue gained can be used to shore up the black hole the NHS currently faces and then, after the five years, those that choose to can give up.

Smoking is currently the most socially responsible thing you can do.

So roll up your sleeves, roll-up your Golden Virginia and Old Holborn, puff on your Pall Mall and smoke the economy better.

Simples

The Long Good Friday.

Where to begin?

Well, for starters, the missus started a new job today so I arose very early to get her a cup of coffee and run her bath - this allowed the required two hours to choose the outfit for the day. At 8.15, she sauntered out of the door with a cheery wave and instructions regarding ironing and hoovering. I was pleased as punch.

Prior to getting up this morning, I had seen the news about Purnell sticking the boot into the snotgobbler at his exit, thus I knew the news channels would be buzzing.

After a full hoovering of the entire house and a token attempt at ironing (surely the most boring thing ever) I slumped down to trawl through the interweb, whilst BBC News 24 played in the background.

OH making no.10 (how ironic!) in the politics blog listings cheered me up - good work fella - and the sychophantic mewlings of Toenails Robinson only served to prove what I have been saying to the missus for the last six months; this blogging stuff really has impact.

The public appetite for politics has risen by about 1000% recently, for that we have the likes of Guido, as well as OH, Obo, Leg Iron, Mrs Dale and allsorts to thank as newspapers read blogs and they know they need to gauge opinion.

Lunch came and went and still no news from the missus - a mild panic began to set in, luckily it was quashed within three minutes when the landline rang; she couldn't get reception on her mobile hence the utter silence. So, now the missus can't easily get hold of me when she's at work...hmm...

After the solid lunch, I decided a few pints - whilst watching the Epsom races - would be in order; after all, the missus wasn't going to be back much before 6pm.

Five pints of Young's and "Ask" comes in at 5-1, pocketing me forty quid overall and I toddle off home to put the dinner on. On the way, my faith in human nature is restored to an extent. To elucidate, there is an old fella who whizzes about on one of those electric buggy thingies and obviously he needs dropped kerbs to get across some roads. As I was walking home, he was coming the other way and suddenly, from my right, White Van Man slammed to a halt blocking the dropped kerb my side. I could see the old whizzer stop the othe side, looking forlornly at White Van Man.

Now the odd bit. WVM had stopped to actually take a mobile phone call - no continue driving with a Ginsters in your gob for this fella - he actually stopped. A rarity. I was walking up at this point, with my jaw agape and then my mind returned to the old whizzer, so I shouted at WVM "Oi - he needs a dropped kerb to get his buggy back up on the pavement!"

A couple of seconds of confusion clouded his ruddied cheeks and then - instead of the expected "fuck off you cunt!" he said "Oh sorry, I'll back up". And he did. With no malice and a broad grin. The old whizzer scooted past me and said "Thanks and cheerio".

Arrived home, dinner sorted, missus returned and ate heartily, telling me about her first day in the new job. So far, so good.

Then I turn the TV on and oh my word. The day just gets better and better. That cunt Flint has gone. Hutton's quit. Hoon has quit. Beckett has quit. Gibson has resigned forcing a bye-election.
And, as an act of pure comedy, Amstrad has been appointed in some fuckwitteried role. GORDON - understand this, phoning Britain's Got Talent or appointing a beardy weirdie from the Apprentice WILL NOT make people vote for you. Is it true that Susan Boyle phoned no.10 to enquire about your well-being? You're a prick. Now, do us all a favour and get an Air France flight somewhere.

Back to The Long Good Friday - Helen Mirren had great tits.

A day in the Sun

We had a fun time and a few beers.

Badgerbeer and tourist entertainment.

This could be a long, hot summer. I can't wait.

Another tale from the pub

I am starting to take a liking to some of the "young'uns" in the boozer.

Today we had Stuart, the manic Heating Technician (read glorified plumber) whose demeanour has always led me to believe that he is either on speed, or just generally hyper.

He didn't go to a great school in the area, but his father taught him that he needed to up his game if he wanted a better life. So after leaving this school with a smattering of poor GCSEs (whatever they are) he did a five year course on becoming a heating engineer. He passed and now works for a a fairly well known company - at he age of 28ish, he is earning about £40k. Pretty good money and he has earned the right for it. Good lad.

He has guaranteed work until 2012 - and that is because his company has secured a deal to refurbish heating systems for London Councils. Safe money, but flat rate and no perks.

The tales he has told me today of the scum he has to deal with makes me shudder - and explains his nervous disposition.

All council houses. All expecting a full new system that would cost you or I about £5,500. And they expect it. And then they want him to paint the boxing-in to match their bathrooms. And call him a cunt when he won't. He attends properties that are inhabited by drug dealers, part-time prostitutes, people who shout at him for turning up at 9am (the agreed time) saying they were still in bed, places with doors kicked-in because the "ex" came round last night as is probably going to come back today and finish her off, coke-snorters with kids running around, crack-pipes hidden behind radiators, knives sellotaped to the back of front door.

And they all expect this work.

He now makes the point - "What the fuck is my tax being spent on? - these people are utter scum who don't deserve these freebies. "

For once, I find myself agreeing with a 28 year-old.

Caption Contest

Industrious worker in Downing Street shocker

One down...

This little piggy went home

Well, it's a start.

Swine Flu

I'm getting a bit fed up with the radio announcements stating that the pig flu virus can survive for hours on the buttons in lifts.

Here's an idea - use the fucking stairs. Most people could do with the exercise in the first place, it's a win-win; less viral transmission and the lard-arses will lose weight to boot.

Amen.