Right, you may as well all stop reading now. Most of you will be totally unsurprised at the following rant, some of you will be wondering what the hell is going on, very few of you will actually find it interesting (and all of you will be baffled by some of the terms).

With the state of the railways, such as they are, in this country I have to take them to task on one more thing. My GOD modern rolling stock is dull and uninteresting.!

Back when I was a wee nipper (1987, so I was 9) I used to love standing at the lineside, watching a procession of early DMU’s, PW trains and aging diesels blasting past my vantage point. The sheer delight at seeing a double headed pair of class 37’s whapping along with a load of ECC tanks was so powerful. But what do we have now.? A tedious array of Voyagers, Sprinters and the inevitable 66’s on EWS freights. Ok, so privatisation was supposed to bring down fares and renew the downtrodden rail market and traffic wise at least, it has improved. The passenger is still shafted six ways from Sirius by pricing but more loads are carried and more passengers too. However there has been a cost to all this. Boredom.

I still love watching rail traffic, I always will, and during the mid 1990’s when the last Hoover was pulled out of service and into preservation I knew with a sad certainty that 1950’s and 60’s engines would never soldier on much past 2001, but standing at Bristol Temple Meads a few months ago made me look round and sigh with misery at the horribly predictable stock sat around me, all of it draped in terribly twee Barbie livery, terrible advertising colours and Virgin’s stylish but bland silver.

You all think I am talking a load of rubbish by now and I guess some of you might be right, but then again, you wouldn’t understand it. You never stood next on a platform as 100 tons of throbbing diesel loco flew past at 90mph three feet away from you. Feeling that massive wall of air hit you as the train passes and then the sudden silence, save for the hissing of the tracks that instantly envelopes you. The old trains had an air of almost menace, like a hidden power waiting to spring forth, now all we have is USA built blandness.

I miss the old days.

On my usual drive to work, although twas an early shift this morning, I was listening to Radio Bristol (not my choice, I prefer my Radio Two as you well know). They were carrying a story about a woman in Kingswood who died after drinking whilst on perscription medication. Ok that sounds a daft thing to do but we have all done it I am sure (don’t try it with anti-biotics, it stops them working and makes you throw up almost instantly). The girls mother was calling for “more obvious information on the packaging to stop this happening again”. Yes, the usual “My family is right, the rest of the world is wrong and I am not taking responsibility for anything, ever” phrase appears. You all know this line which is generally trotted out by people like Tony Blair, relatives of retarded Westonians who have driven off the toll road, lawyers who represent the criminally stupid when suing supermarkets because they tripped over a nine foot tall orange display. But surprisingly this isn’t where I was heading…

The thing which HADN’T been mentioned was that said 22 year old had also knocked back ectasy AND the bit that REALLLLLLY gets my dander up, that she had left halfway through this binge to pick up her three year old kid.! How fucking disgraceful is that.? Whacked off her tits and looking after a toddler. Disgusting. What a great example of a mother.

Then you look around and see that the four women sentenced for forcing two under five’s to fight on camera have got off with community service. Where as a man who was putting up dogs for fighting has been jailed. Why the disparity.? Yes, dog fight man should have been jailed and was but these four women should ALSO have been jailed. Do gooders on the radio earlier were saying “They need help not jail”, errr why do they need help.? If you FORCE a kid to fight another one, in the grans words “to toughen them up” then you are commiting an act tantamount to child abuse.! You don’t sit there thinking, “this is alright, no harm, no foul”, you know it’s wrong and you are risking being punished. The mother has had her child taken away from her, ANOTHER child in this damn country that needs councilling, but the four of them should ALL be jailed for taking part in something so obviously wrong that “help” isn’t a word that could even be contemplated.

And finally a motorcyclist who ran into a 12 year old boy has rightfully been granted compensation against the dead child who was playing chicken on a 70mph dual carriageway. Now THAT is justice going right for a change.! And survival of the fittest.

Search hits anyone.? Yes.? Oh good…

Blob strop – Ok, who has hidden all the knives and stuffed used jam rags down the bog again.?
Sarah Beeney’s Bra Size – Is there a database online somewhere with every celebrity’s boob size or am I being silly.?
WPC cock sucks – Juliet Bravo goes down on DCI Meadows from The Bill, pictures here now.!
Jan leeming fuck me fart – What on earth has Mz Leeming been up to since she left the 6 o’clock news one wonders.
Fuck my mates wife – God no. I have met her, she smells vaguely of chicken nuggets, looks like she has dated Stan Collymore and quite possibly is up the duff again.
Why are all men bastards.? Complete fucking bastards. – I love the redundancy of that statement, someone has been royally screwed over by some guy.
Rowan is Sexy on faceparty – But no where else.? What is up with the world.!? Rowan, come on boyo, you are letting the side down. Let us please have some non-faceparty sexiness.!
BMW Broom up the arse. – This one raises an interesting question. Do BMWs come fitted as standard with brooms or do you have to add them as an optional extra and either way why stick it up your starfish.?
How many bastard children Prince Phillip – I think we can all assume that finally the Queen has found my website whilst doing a little digging into Phil’s past. Welcome your Majesty, take a seat, have a cookie and don’t stroke the cat, he has mange.
Dirty slappers. – As opposed to all those clean ones you see sitting on street corners wearing very long coats and cardies.
Avril Lavinge Toilet – I am asking for it here aren’t I, but then again, every time I hear that Girlfriend song I wish to push her totally into the karzi and crap on her.
Germans and the use of suppositories – I have always said that there are plenty of things that the Krauts can stick up their bums, seems I am not the only one wondering what else they push up there apart from Nazi propaganda and Euros.

and my personal favourite this time round…

Kill those who love you – Does this mean my site has been checked over by a South Korean with a couple of hand guns recently or am I now picking up subliminal messages from the former cast of Brookside.?

Hmmmm, FORTY-FIVE hits for search strings purely involving Carol Vorderman in some form and only one hit for octagenarianism. Stupid. Don’t these people realise I prefer the elderly to Vorderman and her mathmatical brilliance. Give me a pair of dangly flaps and a deaf aid any day.!

I’ll shall return later with a proper blog if you all are very good and send me photos of your breasts.!

*****LATE NEWS*****
Me again, back with a few news worthy items to entertain, enlighten and arouse you gentlefolks.

Let us begin with a dead red, yes Boris Yeltsin has passed onto that great communist regime in the sky. He didn’t start glasnost, the art of telling it like it really is to the people and the West, but he helped break the Russian people from the bread lines and life of Government sponsored poverty and into the commercial world. Sadly it also led to MacDonald’s opening a branch in Moscow but I guess you can’t have everything.

So what happened.? Well Vodka did for him in the end didn’t it. He was 76 and that was an age even he didn’t expect to make. I think I will remember him for that big smiling face, cheeks a-glow with alcoholic glee. Far more fun than Putin I think (*ducks to avoid Polonium flavoured sushi missile*).

Wi-Fi in schools now. I don’t think I need to say too much here just that one school has dismantled it’s wireless network due to one teacher being ill. Yes, ONE teacher. Ooooooh obviously it is the wireless nets doing that. God knows how many of my old teachers have passed away due to cancer (4 or 5 I think so far) and all we had were BBC B and BBC Masters, shall we blame them.???

One amusing quote I found was totally indicative of the “here and now” in this country…

“Alasdair Philips, of campaign group Powerwatch, believes the radiation from wireless networks is partly to blame for the rise of behavioural problems such as attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or ADHD.”

Yes, that’s the idea, blame little shit kids on a wireless network. Genius. Then can we blame civil unrest on fast food, sex on TV and smoking…

…oh hang on we already do.! Noting that they are trying to ban packs of 10 cigarettes to prevent kids smoking made me chuckle to myself. I used to just buy twenty, or go halves with a mate. Kids are thick as fuck most of the time these days (well they cannot spell or work out a maths problem without the use of a calculator or PC) but even the most stupid 9 year old can add his pocket money to his friends and saunter into Tesco’s dressed in a false ‘tache and a big coat.!

A.G Barr, You complete and utter bunch of cuntfucks. You have taken the glorious tasting Tizer and turned it into what can only be described as fruity piss in a bottle. Why in God’s name have you taken out the lovely sweetners and colours and produced a lack lustre, watered down, bad tasting drink that not only keeps a head on it but leaves such a horrible after commotion in your mouth that not even turpentine will remove it.!

For the second time in under six months I have had one of my favourite childhood treats turned into a “troubled child” friendly little pile of wank. And for what reason.? Because retarded parents who have no control over the eating/drinking habits of their spoilt, dole fodder children moan that they have ADHD or some other made up nonsense and are badly behaved rather than admit that their child actually could do with a fucking good smack across their ass cheeks to teach them a bloody lesson. I was smacked as a child when I was naughty and I believe it detered me from being a bad person. Nowadays people like Amnesty International, a group who really should all be murdered themselves, are actually asking retail workers to hand out “anti smacking” leaflets to parents that give their kids six of the best, trousers down, in public.! I would rather hand out £10 notes to those parents and letter bombs to the ones that DON’T give their kids what for when they are badly behaved.

Or how about sending all these do gooders for a weeks intensive training somewhere. Maybe at Virginia Tech.?

And while we are on the subject…

If you come into my shop and purchase something then moan because you can’t carry it, do NOT expect my sympathy.

Frankly if you cannot get into your stupid, council estate brain that a WARDROBE which is made from WOOD and stands over six foot tall is HEAVY then you should FUCK OFF and live in a township in Soweto that doesn’t have furniture, food, water or fuck all else.

When I tell you on the till it is in TWO parts and OVER 25 kg then you can add that up to FIFTY, yes that is FIFTY kilos of wood, nails, screws, handles and cardboard that YOU have to lump around town and slide gently onto one of Plaxton’s finest past a disgruntled FirstBus driver. Unless someone invents a way of dehydrating flat pack then it is unlikely they will weigh any less.

So the next time you say to me “Oh I didn’t realise this bookcase/sideboard/garden shed/seaside cottage was so heavy” I will happily look at you and at your pitiful IQ of under 45, laugh at your utter fucking stupidity and shout…

“YOU DUMB CUNT”

into your face.

WANKERS. You are about as much use to this planet as the Americans, German and the French. Why not go and pop on a nice Manchester United T-shirt and go visit Ian Huntley.

Very soon in Kent a new theme park is opening. The Charles Dickens Experience. It promises the sights, sounds and indeed smells of Victorian London and the world in which Mr Dickens lived. Do you know what.? I love the sound of that. Short of having a time machine and travelling back to the early 19th century, maybe this will be my only chance that I will ever get to experience a taste of what life was like in the industrialising world.

As you may have read when I spoke about the Rookery a few posts ago, I am fascinated by “How We Used To Live” (for those of you as old as me you may recall a school’s television programme running under the same name). Back in my later school days I picked up a love of empathising the thoughts and feelings of people in different cultures and at differing periods of the past, which certainly helped when I had to write a report on a trip to “The Big Pit” in Blaenafon, Wales and I was ill, so missing the trip entirely.
But just imagine you were there. That it was you back in 1820 in London, living in a middle class town house, a couple of liveried servants on the go and a maid to make your bed for you.? Picture it…
Stepping from your bed into the cool morning air, no heat of course, heavy flax bed sheets and a couple of woolen blankets keep your cotton clad body warm at night. On your dresser a bowl and jug stand and you quickly wash in the cold water before dressing at top speed to keep warm and head downstairs for breakfast. The food isn’t bad, in fact probably better than today unless you were one of the poor who ended up with sausages filled with sawdust and fat bacon which had no lean. All this brought to you by your servants and no washing up to do either.
Taking a stroll outside, so very different, no cars, no combustion engines, but a heavy smog, courtesy of a million domestic coal fires, steam trains, power stations, industry. As late as the 1960’s the London smogs killed the young and infirm, but mix that with low medical technology and a hearty amount of tuberculosis and maybe the modern world of car pollution and diesel fumes doesn’t seem quite so bad. At least nowadays the roads aren’t covered with horse dung, small children collecting the stuff in buckets to sell as well as picking up dog faeces to sell to leather tanners who used it to cure the hides. Back in the Gin houses of the 19th century kids as young as five or six would be out until all hours drunk on gin and stealing to keep up their habit.

Could you cope in a world with no internet, no TV, no mobile phone.? I certainly couldn’t, but that is the world I know. Back in 1820 entertainment was military parades, freak shows, circuses and theatre for the rich. Wouldn’t you just love to spend one day back then. Or maybe one day in the wild west drinking in a saloon, watching a gun fight break out. Perhaps an afternoon watching the Egyptians creating the Sphinx or the Great Pyramid.? How about standing at Nuremburg and hearing Hitler preaching his destructive madness to a simply massive crowd of facists.? Or spending the afternoon with an Aztec tribe in South America fighting off the Spanish and sacrificing virgins.?

All these things I would love to do… every single one makes my heart jump a little when I imagine taking part in it. But there is one thing I would love to see more than all of this.

I would love to stand in Cairo, at the height of the Egyptian empire, marvelling at the sights and sounds erupting around me. Taking in the Nile flowing swiftly towards the delta as it enters the sea. Evocative thoughts. I can’t be there but I can imagine. I can create an image of what it could have been like and I can do it whenever I want.

Where would you like to be today.?

To begin I would like to announce that Steve Wright, him off the Radio Two afternoon show, is psychic. The other week he was on the air and answered a question I had in my head regarding a TV advert and Stuart Marconie, then last week I was picking a Challenge chainsaw. As I looked at the description in the picking ticket and read the word “Challenge”, Steve actually said the word as I read it. Odd. Weirder still, today I was umming and ahhing over when to eat my Bakewell Tart. I finally unwrapped and was halfway through when Mr Wright managed to say the word Bakewell.!!! How weird is that.

Now something has been on my mind all day. I have a weird sense of humour, I don’t think any of you will refute that statement. Most of you will either agree with that so much your heads will roll off or will be absolutely gob-smacked I would even suggest I WASN’T.! But why do I have that type of humour. Why is it that I find Catherine Tate utterly unfunny, totally boring and even rather offensive to me, while if someone says the phrase “Treat your missus like a Princess, get drunk, drive her through a French underpass, lose control, hit a concrete pillar and kill her instantly” I giggle like a nine year old giving birth.

I guess we all have different influences in our lives that affect the nature of our humour. I was brought up on a diet of Ronnie Barker, Richard Briers and John Cleese in my early childhood. I know that those people were biggest way back in the 1970s and 1980’s but it is still an important part of my development that I learnt not only the importance of laughter but the structure of making a situation funny. John Cleese’s simple torturing of poor Manuel started my love of pure slapstick. There is very little that I find funnier than someone being whacked in the head by a frying pan, hit with a plank or slipping over on a puddle of custard. It is easy, almost lazy humour. Ronnie Barker stuck the idea of word play in my little child head. With him spilling non-sensical sentences with consumate ease and repetition whilst wearing a half suit/half dress out fit I was bound to be a follower for the rest of his career.

So where does my downright sick, perverted sense of toilet/sexual humour drop from.? I personally think, apart from a certain school friend who will remain nameless (sorry Doc) who shared a love of toilet humour with me from a very early age, Carry On films certainly drowned me in a slurry of innuendo, knob gags and base jokes that I still chuckle about to this very day. Later in my life both Bottom and Viz have fulfilled my love of all things gutter like. Possibly the reason I rely heavily on this kind of thing when I am in not-so-polite company stems mainly from the effortlessness it takes to make people grin at some vague remark that can be instantly dirtied up. Also to say something shockingly rude which ends up with people shouting my name at me in mock disgust whilst still smiling heartily is not only good for my ego, but good for getting certain things off my chest. You should all be well aware now that I deal with certain horrible, tragic aspects of life by making seemingly callous and evil* jokes about them. Trust me, tis far easier to laugh than to cry despite the obvious physiological and psychological similarities between the two.

Do our social and family spheres cause influence within our growing minds with regard to learning how to enjoy comedy.? As a kid did you have an Uncle who used to tell awful jokes or as in my case a close friend who had an almost gift like charm for making people laugh without even trying. My later college years honed both my confidence that I could be funny and could create not only on the spot remarks but more complex gags as well.

Something to think about I hope I have given you.

(*TAXI.!)

ANOTHER podium for that young tyke Lewis Hamiliton in the Bahrain Grand Prix then. Amazing work for a rookie driver who has finished on the champers spraying positions three times in his first three races.! He technically leads the world championship on 22 points along with Alonso and Kimi, although is classed third as the other two have wins (Alonso 2, Kimi 1). Great race too.

I couldn’t be arsed to go out last night. Was a bit of a twat on Friday, as per usual, so just went round to look after the squeaky, barely able to speak, Lemony who has picked up my cold. Then I headed home to a bad stomach and a bout of violent buggery with a Welsh bloke called Evans. Spot the untruth in that statement… (that’s correct, he was called Hughes).

Whilst watching the winners celebrations after the afore mentioned Grand Prix, it struck me that the Italians may have the worst of pretty much everything, army, hairstyles, car parts suppliers, food, out of most of the western world, but what they lack in social graces they make up for in quantity of National Anthem. The bloody thing goes on for literally weeks.! I know I should have thought about this sooner, Ferrari having been on the top of that pile far too frequently with the smug Schumacher over the past decade, but it wasn’t until today when the Brazilian anthem sounded over the sandy desert track that I wondered why on earth they play 90% of their’s and only about 10% of any other country’s.

Ok I am well aware that our’s sounds like it should be played only when someone is being carried in a lead coffin to a waiting hole in the ground reserved only for the important and the rich, but along with Bill Bailey and his Portishead-esque rave track I think it needs a change (the rave track which I personally would loooove to hear played at a state funeral. Imagine if we had slipped the Queen Mum into the floor with that sounding off in the background. Prince Phillip would have been giving it plenty of “small box, tall box”, Princess Michael of Kent hitting the aftershock and William and Harry could have DJed.!).

So how to replace it.? I am all in favour of Rule Britannia. A stirring march that would bring an air of Empire back into our, sadly national prideless lives perhaps. Admittedly we did once rule the waves but unfortunately no more. Surprised we can rule anything anymore…

*phone rings at Admiralty House*
“Hello, what-o, pip pip, First Sea Lord here what can I sort you for today old bean.?”
“What-o old chap, Army General here, can we borrow a couple of your warships to do a little shore bombardment please.?”
“No, one has failed it’s MOT, two are being used to annoy the Australians by firing cricket balls at Sydney harbour and the other is being driven around the Adriatic by a drunk ten year old.”
“Oh, got any fat sailors that I can use for target practice in the Gulf then.?”
“Now you come to mention it I have actually.! Faye.? Come here a moment please.”

See my point.? Even so there has to be a bit of thought going into it. We are a Royal nation so slip in the monarch (oooh I do appear to be mentioning the Queen in rude sentences a lot recently), perhaps a mention to the last remaining parts of our once glorious empire (Scotland, Northern Ireland, Australia and a couple of far away places no one really gives a toss for anymore). Better slap in a little Christianity somewhere (just to wind up the Muslims I think) and cap it all with a hint of “Bollocks to the Frenchies and the Krauts”. Better still, why not get Jarvis Cocker to write it and we can have a Rocking National Anthemn.

*Stands up, salutes, falls over*

Ps… thank you to the lovely Angel for her title today. She wanted the credit despite having stolen it from somewhere herself).

Just a short one today, because I really cannot be arsed to type too much. It’s the usual stats page round up. Hits wise, it is a close one. Lemony has almost lost her top status to Angel, it is nail-bitingly close with me third (typical) and Hobbits fourth (new entry, hehe).

Search string wise… well. Shall we say, it is “interesting”.?

This time round we have a collection of searches involving the words ‘Carol’, ‘Voderman’ and one of the following phrases… ‘underwear’, ‘pics’, ‘bum’, ‘porn’, ‘big bum’, ‘tits’, ‘whipped’, ‘undies’ and my personal favourite ‘pics of carol vorderman sitting on a cock’. Now THAT is inscruitable.!

Also popping up are these…
“vindaloo knife sets” – specifically made for cutting up very hot food. Asbestos built maybe.?
“good friday alcohol sales christian bastards” – SOMEONE couldn’t get a beer when they wanted.!
“octagenarianism” – aged, dusty flaps anyone.?
“i can see i can see perfectly” – Well good. But why show off.?
“titties brand sandels” – Can you really get sandels called “Titties”.?
“support group for single mothers who use donated sperm” – My personal favourite this time round.! Does ’support group’ mean ‘man who arrives to clean out the yogurt pot’.?
“angelburnt” – I TOLD you to use sun block.!
“bmw broom up the arse” – Having a French made Citreon cleaning implement up the rectum is obviously far too common.!
“grandad incest wank” – Brilliant. Truly brilliant.!
“sarah drunk” – For latest installment I suggest Hobbits tomorrow night.!
“wpc fingering” – I do love getting my tips wet from a nearby copper. At least it was WPC, not PC.!

God only knows what the hell someone will hit me with next.! A hammer possibly.!

Tch, being ill sucks. As you are all well aware, since I had glandular fever last year my body’s immune system now offers the same protection as the French army offered Europe during the two World Wars, ie, fuck all.! So here I sit, my head is ready to explode, face feels like I have had botox injections around my eyes administered by Daffy Duck and I am coughing so much I am starting to wonder if I smoked 20 or 200 cigarettes on Saturday night.! Much as I love the time off work and the sympanthy from my family and friends, I do prefer being able to, A, breathe. B, hold a conversation without sounding like a cross between Frank Butcher and Madge from Neighbours and C, get out of a chair with out going “ooohhh ow”.

Things I have done so far today… Bumped into an old workmate in the Doctors. Gave the Government MORE of my hard earned cash for overpriced, privately manufactured drugs. Watched two people moving a small pig in a huge pet carrier. Eaten two bags of Beef Jerky. Bought a large “Hot ‘n’ Spicy” sausage for supper (I will be slicing it, spreading it on toast, sprinkling it with cheese and grilling it with a sprinkle of paprika and a few chives).

As I am writing this on my mother’s laptop it is only right that I should be watching TV and giggling about silly things. Firstly, the video with OK Go and the treadmills. Not my favourite kind of band (99% of that is due to the predictably bad hair and one pair of very iffy Emo specs) but the video is truly a classic combination of sports equipment and men in tank tops walking around the place. You see a lot of various ingenuity nowadays with the music vid, but despite the use of CGI they still seem bland. Are we perhaps spoilt for choice by all the different things we see.? The OK Go vid is so simple but so entertaining due to it’s originality. Thumbs up for that, but thumbs down for that pink shirt.! Video killed the radiostar, but what about a videostar… Husky.?

Bullseye (you can’t beat a bit of Bully) threw me a very interesting thought earlier. Jim “Super Smashing Lovely” Bowen mentioned the King killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field (Richard the Third). That was back in the days of yore when the head of a nation or state could be legally deposed by a fight and a new King/Queen/Emperor could nudge their way in. So what has changed.? Clearly we live in a more civilised world do we not.? Why could I not go to London, wait until Her Maj nips (Ohhh Her Maj’s Nips, imagine that.!) down the offy for some eggs and a pint of milk and then as she chooses a fine box of grade A double yolkers, whack her across the ornate crown with a special offer frozen leg of lamb and arise King Fluffy Bunny. Ok, I do see the issues involved in, what would probably end up as being a continuous queue of people at Buckingham Palace waiting to kill off the previous throne sitter but would it not be a fairer way of sorting out the head of state.? Royal Nipples indeed (is it treasonous to discuss the mammories of the Monarch by the way).?

For those of you enjoying my new nicname, one of the contestants on the aforementioned Bullseye was called “Tink”. Lucky him.

That bloke in the “I See Girls” video by Studio B, why in hell is he running from ten women in short skirts with big tits. What a great big knob jockey. I See Girls… that’s what you get if you pop into a female only morgue surely.?

Oh and you know those moments when you are so drunk you love everyone far more than you should… Pouty. “I really, really love yoooooooooou”. Hehehe. Drunk as a Airline Pilot she was.

Staying on the subject of irritating women (JOKING Pouty, love you hehe), Girlfriend, Avril Lavinge, stop just stop. That song is more annoying than a bucket load of nits. Oh and my song of 2006 was The Suffering by Coheed and Cambria, a song that I was not entirely happy with naming as that. In which case I wish to amend that blog with a new song for 2006, Shakira and Wycleaf Jean, Hips Don’t Lie. God only knows how I forgot that one.!

I shall leave you now on a thought… ever had a Belgian kiss.? It’s like a French kiss but with more Flem (I will leave you to work that one out).!

Do you remember that bloke from TAG, The Accident Group.? He fired 2500 of his staff via text message and legged it to Spain when his scummy “where there is blame, there is a claim” company went into liquidation. He also killed a 73 year old OAP in a drink drive incident despite having only had his license back for six months from the previous ban. Remember now.? Well I have great news. He is dead. Rejoice.! Huzzah and hurrah.! Someone play Hearts of Oak and Rule Brittania. The little cuntwit drove a Corsa into a Spanish tree. Job done. Yes yes, I know it is a bit sick to be cheering someone’s death but this guy was a complete anus. Well done boyo.!

On the same subject, I was trying to watch Bullseye earlier. In between the programme was a lovely advert break that was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT shite debt agency, useless car insurers and Carol Fucking Vorderman trying to get all your money into one big pot and then she can shit it out into her own account. One of these days Carol, one of these days… *POW* to the moon.!

I see that woman who is infertile due to cancer treatment, but had some eggs dans le freezer has lost her court battle to have them jammed up her chuff. Do see the point of her ex’s arguement though. Knowing the state of the country today it is highly likely that 18 years down the line the kids would find out where their REAL dad lived and it would be almost two decades of back pocket money to be collected.

And Iran are STILL knocking out the nuclear abilities. Should be fun. The second the US tries to jump into that one they will be wiped off the map lol.