So I wander in from work… sit down at my desk and open google news to check out the latest happenings in the world. Now what is it that catches my eye first.? Keane’s song “Everybody’s Changing” being used by the Conservative party as their election theme song. What a total piss take.!!! Keane have said they are horrified by it’s use by the Tories and I have to say I totally agree.

If the Conservatives win then I would have expected them to put Keane to death rather than use their fucking awful dirge music as a blue version of “Things can only get better”. Keane were put on this earth to hate along with James Blunt, the Ting Tings and 98.97% of anything played on Kiss FM. Why Mr Cameron et al have decided that the best way to win the voters is to use the lyrical equivalent of soiled toilet paper is beyond me. Perhaps they could have used the old Chelsea song… “Blue is the Colour” or even “You’re going home in a fucking ambulance”.

…and then I see Fanta has been using the song “Shut up and let me go” by the aforementioned Ting Tings… great, now that’s ANOTHER turd I have to put in the post. Sigh.

In the glorious history of “political correctness gone mad”, Liverpool City Cuntcil are considering banning a certain word from the language we call English. The word in question is the word ‘obese’ when used in connection with chunky  nine to eleven year old children. Now I can understand the implications of being ‘labelled’ as a child, I know the feeling (and seeing photos of me at that age with legs like two cheese straws makes me actually understand the names I picked up at school) but I also see the benefit of kids seeing what they are and perhaps showing their parents how they look and just how impressively dangerous their situation is…….

…… WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG FOR THIS IMPORTANT BIT OF INFO…….

I have just watched the Weston episode of Come Dine With Me. For Fuck Sake. Ok, four essential things to remember from now on:
1, We have a national, nay international duty, to seal off Clevedon and burn everything that is there, people, animals, buildings EVERYTHING if Claire is an indication of the shite holed up in that place.
2, The blonde piece from Weston (anyone want to know the reg of her Range Rover because I have seen her driving it badly often enough around town)  was described as ‘Weston’s version of Victoria Beckham’. More like Victoria fucking Station.! Concrete faced and it looks like half of London has been through her.
3, It is impressive that they managed to find David, a guy who appears to have a drink problem… in WESTON, rehab capital of the world.!! (Ok it isn’t impressive, I was being sarky).
4, Graham, you live in Clevedon. You do not live in Paris. Plus you have a red kettle in a green kitchen.!

….. and now we return to the schedule shown in your blog guides…..

Where was I.? Oh, yes, fat kids. Call a spade a spade. If they are ginger they will be called ging’ers or the Weasleys. If they are thin then they will be called Bone, skinny, lanky. If they have a face like a bedtime smoker’s duvet cover then call them, well something. If they are obese then call them obese because kids will call kids whatever the fuck they want. Why not spend time and money solving the problem and preventing underage/underprivilged mothers and fathers from stuffing their kids with McDs and processed shit from 8am to 10pm every day. Get Jaime Oliver in there and this time if their parents turn up at the school fence with buckets of chips and burgers then let the dogs loose and break out the grenades.

But please stop pissing around with our language.!!!

Thank you… oh dear goodness thank you to Webber Bus. As I peered wearily out of the window earlier I noticed that amongst their many anonymous (so far) white Optare Solos there is at least one painted in a new livery for our town, such as it is. The colours.? Well Badgerline green and yellow of course and bloody lovely it looks too. The corporate ‘Barbie’ livery that First ruins every object it touches with certainly did bland out the place. ACL and their vivid orange had a slight tendancy to make everything look like it had caught fire. Hurrah for Webberbus.!

On the subject of iffy colours on modes of transport, is it ‘green’ to have a Honda Civic Type R and put wheels on it that are the same colour as Kermit the Frog.? Just I saw one earlier and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Not even touring cars have green wheels.!

What’s with this new fashion among the ladies for wearing hoodies with their names emblazoned across the back. I know some are the college “hair/health therapy” classes and obviously need some way of remembering what their name is at various times of the day, but not all the lasses I have seen with them on were of that age. I certainly take my name badge off when I walk around town because there are some funny fuckers amongst us who think calling me by my first name when I am wandering around town is hilarious (plus for some reason the elderly seem to assume that if you have a name badge on when stood in a shop then it automatically means you work there no matter what company name you badge provides).! I do recall sending people in the wrong direction frequently in ASDA years ago when they asked me for help as I had a suit on (I also had a name badge on that did not say ASDA by any means but that is not important clearly).

It did make me wonder though. Does make chatting up women easier if they are advertising their names. Far easier than using a line such as “what’s a nice fourteen year old like you doing in a lap dancing club like this”.

And finally tonight, I wish to cover the importance of wearing the correct lights for riding your bike at night, that is to say, red to the back and yellowy white to the front. However, having your brightly glowing red face showing at the front and the shining like a night sky moon to the rear may confuse people, little Miss Ginger-haired lady I saw earlier. You certainly did not need that reflective jacket.!

Good morrow fair children.!

PS…

Here’s an addition I should have seen coming…

Katie Price has been quoted as saying “When I die, it will be a Diana moment”. Hmmm. How exactly.? Will the good ol’ folks of fair London town, gawd bless ‘em, line the streets waving flags with pictures of your ugly mug on them. Silently they will sob as your humped front coffin is drawn along by six strapping young men with g-strings on, a procession of pink limos following along behind and that shit single you released playing over the top of it all like some kind of audio strawberry mousse. And there at the end as they lower the plastic princess of pointlessness into a hole in the ground lined with the heads of seven million Barbie dolls I shall stand with a mallet and a very long piece of metal to hammer through that silicone embossed chest of her’s juuuuust to make sure she is actually no longer in the land of the living.

So how, Miss Price, will it be a Diana moment.? Is it that you will be vigourously splashed across the driving console of a German built car.? Perhaps you final seconds will be a parade of thick headed jouralists hell bent on taking just one more photo of that chillingly gormless face before you plough nips first into the first underpass your driver can find to a salute of 50cc moped engines. Or is it more simple than that.? Is it that Alex and Peter will be straight around your gaff clearing out all the valubles a la Paul Burrell.?

Either way I know I will be far more impressed than September 1997.

(and as for the rumours that Andre is shacking up with Kerry fucking Katona… I don’t have the time to actually comment on that without using the rest of my natural life). Satan help us all.!!!

You know when you are a kid… and you have all those people on TV who you get used to and see every day or every weekend.? Like Phillip Schofield and Sarah Green, or Timmy Mallett, well from my younger years at least. They always seem almost like invincible gods who will never change. In the case of the aforementioned three, they haven’t really (apart from Mr Schofield’s hair colour). I have been burnt by this way of thinking before. Back in 1999 ish, I was channel hopping and stumbled across a channel Five programme about iffy porn, like Eurotrash, but it was hosted by none other than Trevor and Simon.! The classic two fill in comedians from Going Live (”We don’t do duvets”).

Now weird as that was, imagine my utter horror whilst watching cheap shitarama Sky channel ‘bidupTV’ to see a man who looked remarkably like Peter Simon who used to present ‘Double Dare’ (also on Going Live) trying to flog the nation a range of horrible looking watches and cameras that not even Lidl would stock. Sadly it did indeed turn out to be Peter Simon. The voice was impossible to ignore. My how the mighty have fallen.

Actually, looking back over all those childhood memories another person pops up who has changed very little. He was THE voice of Camberwick Green, Chigley and Trumpton. Mr Brian Cant. He also presented Playschool and Bric-a-Brac, some of the most diverse bits of kids television we had back in the 1980s. Certainly one of the kings of children’s entertainment.

…and so the world continues turning…

Or does it. Without saying too much, something has occured in my work life that has upset the balance of my mind. It all relates to music.

How many of us enjoy music as much as we can, different genres, ages, speeds, beats all sorts of wild and wonderful aural numbers. Now imagine that that sound track to your life is taken away by half of the time you are awake. What a terrible thought. Well that is what has happened to me. My working life has now changed for the worst and I no longer want to continue working where I currently am.

Time to check out jobsgopublic.com again I guess.!

PS… my Facebook account has problems hence why it has disappeared. It will hopefully be up again soon, thank you Mr Nigerian, in the meantime email me through this site if you need me.

PPS… can someone put this site up as a link on their FB page please… Miss Rodgers, Mr Hwang for instance .