I must apologise to a certain person called Tasha. She was lucky enough to spend a few minutes on her lunch break at work this week as I leafed my way through the dross filled shite mag they call the Daily Mirror. To be honest it was either that or a rather over the top production in-house from work and the Mirror was the best choice… if you can call it a choice.

There was just simply so much news that I had an opinion on. But top of the list was… (da dada daaaaaaa)

Booze pricing.  Manchester has started to push through a by-law that means a minimum of 50p a unit will be charged on an alcoholic beverage. This is to prevent the binge drinking and violent culture that has started to take over most if not all city/town centres on a weekend. A Fine Idea, I hear you cry… well I suppose so but surely this is just going to, as usual, hurt those who don’t go out, drink fifteen pints of cider and smash up a kebab shop.

Rather than let people run out of control, would it not be better to sort out the cause not the effect.? It is illegal to be intoxicated in public but most pubs and clubs will still serve people who are way over the eight. Trouble in clubs is part and parcel of a night out in this town (except Hobbits as was, which rarely had trouble from the very start of me going there although the young scene kids always seemed to be the ones more likely to cause trouble in the last few months before closure).

Anyway, what else has tickled my fancy this week.? Well Bernie Ecclestone got mugged… I can only assume that Ferrari have now finally got their revenge for losing this years championship then.

Several billion squid has been pledged towards the railways… ho hum… so that big fat companies like First Group can carry on reaping huge fares whilst still taking hand outs from the tax payer. I sent them an email the other week as every time I go to work at seven am some cunt driving the number seven service drives at 15mph all the way along my main route to work, as he is early he should really stop and wait a bit but no… the inconsiderate little fuckmonkey decides to piss along at a speed slightly above Audley Harrison legging it from a fight with a 10 year old paraplegic girl. I have had no reply from First Group, I can only assume they are unable to see their pc monitors due to all the money piled everywhere, or maybe they have all sadly gone blind. Ha. Sadly. Yeah right.

I see Ireland has run out of money. First it’s spuds, now dosh… somehow we have enough to bail them out despite having none for ourselves. The fucking banks should be forced to help with their huge amounts of profit perhaps.

North Korea shelled South Korea… interesting, almost fun that. Maybe a little war would help sort out the good guys from the Americans. Don’t really want to see death and destruction, but the Koreans build Hyundai cars and designed the Atos, Elantra and Accent models… and therefore perhaps deserving of it.

The snow has arrived already and has almost totally melted now sadly. I was nervous as I had stippulated that a depth of 12 inches of snow on my drive would lead to me being photographed starkers in the snow. I appear to have got off lightly there. Cold.? I would be down to 7 inches.!

Peter Andre was rushed to hospital this week with stomach pains (in Taunton actually) and I am very sad to say… he survived. Our sincere condolences to music.

Oh yes, and yesterday in the Mirror (I need to educate my staff to buy papers with some substance I think, like the Beano or Trade and Mart) was a feature on “The Most Annoying People In Reality TV”. To my utter surprise the page wasn’t filled with tiny pictures of every tossbag and slagface that has been on every reality TV show since the start of time. It only featured a few people. Shame. But I put it to you ‘Polly from the Mirror’ that you are the most annoying person for (a) having a job at the Mirror, (b) writing a shitty feature where you called at least two people ‘the most annoying person in Reality TV’ and (c) somehow missed Jade “Kojak” Goody off the list because we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead no matter how stupid, bigotted and repulsively crass they are in life. Well done Polly, for a woman named after a parrot you have done nicely there.

To end I will leave you with a joke… Jeremy Paxman walks into a restaurant and orders five of the sharing platters to begin with. The waiter is taken aback and asks why… Mr Paxman replies “It’s my starter for ten”.

Eye Thenk Eye.

You know, it hasn’t been an easy week, one way or another, got a bit of sorting out to do, life wise, self wise and everything else wise, hence my lack of social networking at the moment.

I did remove my faceparty account which has been a bit of fun… that was a weird place to begin with, now it’s just fucking nuts.!! Might get rid of my outdated Myspace page next, it was fun back in the day but when facebook arrived and was better thought out, didn’t delete links to my own blog from my homepage (what the fuck was the point of that you twats, you were meant to be a communication hub from where people could learn about their friends, so thanks for fucking that up and look where you are now).

Anyway, week 46 slowly draws to a close. Work is busier than ever and my lunch breaks are getting shorter and shorter. At least there are more staff around to amuse me. A few news shorts now…

A plane carrying a donor liver crashed and burned at Birmingham airport earlier, whether someone threw in some onions and bacon is not recorded. *slurps*

The death sentence is to be reviewed, anyone appearing in a TV reality show, celebrity or otherwise, or appearing on X Factor/Popstars etc will be hobbled by myself and then hacked to pieces by a blind knife thrower. Don’t think we need to bother with the trials so money and time saved… and TV reclaimed on a Saturday night.

Did you know that the 19th of November was World Toilet Day… as well as Children in Need. Surely Children in Toilet day would have saved time, if not caused more laundry.

Watching Jeremy Kyle earlier, who was running around brothels chatting to prozzies and porn stars (which in itself was a bit weird as the suit was gone and he had a brown cardie on (which I swear was the spitting image of one I used to wear to school in 1985 ish) and some slacks) did make me giggle. All the women he met had their voices slowed down and they all sounded just like Mark and Lard’s ‘Fat Harry White’ character. Brilliant. Anyway, in the ad breaks the Twinings Tea adverts keep appearing and they feature a man with a kettle making a big mosaic from cups of tea. The aural imagery (as most of the time I am saving Stormwind from death and only listening to the show)  is soooooo lovely. That glorius rumble of the boiling water as the kettle hits switch off, then that glooping, bubbling sound as it is emptied into the cup and begins to brew the best drink in the world (TEA you hear me TEEEAAA, is the best drink EVER, not your bloody coffee America, not your overpriced Starbucks shite. Not your caffeine laden brown toss which makes you smell like an English teacher. Not something that smells quite nice but then really starts to piss you off as you browse the books in Waterstones…. ahem sorry).

It got me thinking, we all have favourite smells, clean babies (not something I am familiar with in this town, most of the babies I see look as though the parent has forgotten to bathe the baby but the pitbull or bulldog with them is pristine), freshly cut grass, FRESHLY BREWED TEA, cooking bread, there are plenty… but what about favourite sounds. I don’t mean enjoying a particular aria, lyric hook or melody, I mean day to day sounds that make you happy or feel comfortable.

Apart from the kettle thing, there are certainly a few noises that please me…

The low rumble of one of the model locos I own as it slowly flywheels it’s way across the baseboard with a train, lights blazing and wheels clicking over the point frogs.

A fan heater starting up on a frosty winter’s morning when I don’t have work and can let the room heat up before I dive out of bed and into some clothes (no central heating, which I detest as it is never set properly or on at the right moment).

That gorgeous sizzle as a big piece of fillet steak hits a nice hot pan for the 60 seconds or so I sear it for. The smell works nicely there as well… as does the taste.!

…and lastly that first crack as you open a bottle of the black gold… Coca-Cola… with the best bit at the top as you pour it down your neck to follow a hot madras or a mouthful of Salt and Pepper chicken. Mmmm.

It would appear most of my favourite sounds involve food. Genius, but totally expected I fear. Hehe. What shall I have for supper now.??

Time for a little Hogger.

Good evening my little playmates of hell. Let us all say together now “All hail King Fluffy Bunny of Georgia”.

Excellent. Now, first off, please go on youtube and check out Psychoville. From the weird ones who brought you the League of Gentlemen and starring Dawn French and a few shots of Weston. It is sheer genius and totally missed my TV radar. Chili bought round a copy the other day and we have watched it twice already. Superb comedy timing and brilliant writing has created yet another black comedy series… especially the clown with the hook hand.!

Secondly, what a finish to the F1 season. Alonso stuck, thankfully, behind Petrov, Webber behind him, Hamilton unlucky behind Kubica but still second and Button a great third. 2008, 2009 and 2010 champs all stood on the podium together.! Good race lads, great year (Bahrain aside of course, that was wank). Same again next year.?

What’s this, students revolting.? Well we all knew that now didn’t we. Tuition fees, whine, mutter, mutter, grumble, not enough time to spend on the piss with Carnage written on your t-shirt, moan, moan, running out of money to spend on bad hair and speed. Oh well.

No one dead on I’m a ZZZ list celebrity yet then.? No.? Damn. Come on people, let us see some real suffering. Maybe Ant and Dec can get their testicles caught in a book or Gillian McKeith could slip off a rope bridge and end up with a 15 foot fanny first slide along the main cord, smoke pouring from her overcooking flaps. Let’s save time, push them all onto an unihabited atoll in the Pacific, throw in the X Factor fuckwits and those who have chosen to dance their way through another reality spot on BBC1 and then set off one of those new-clear-bomba things. Mmmmmmmm.

I seem to remember I was going to be pretending I had attended some fake Hobbits Halloween… so here goes…

‘Halloween night has always been a good laugh, what with the dressing up, the fake blood, the alcohol, the fouling of the breeches after too many Newcastle Browns and 2010 was another of those pant filling nights. After a late start due to Pouty forgetting her name, purse, outfit and dignity she eventually turned up at the pub closely followed by Hwang and Emmy-Loo who had decided to dress as conjoined twins one black and one white. Pouty was splendidly wrapped in a two huge pieces of Danepak and covered in Philadelphia that was beginning to melt, it would be a long night as she kept nipping outside into the cooler air to restuff her cream cheese and straighten up her bacon rashers.

I myself had arrived dressed only in a small thong and some nipple tassels as the man who owns Red Bull only to be told that Dita Von Teese and Dietrich Mateschitz are two very different people… but the old folks loved it and only one person had a stroke (and he didn’t last long when he got going). And so Hobbits bound we became with Harrz and Mikey following closely behind, picking up the bits of cheese Pouty drips and slapping away people trying to grab at my nipples.

Hobbits was packed, as expected. Mark had decorated the place with strings of Hob Nobs and pickled onions, a much welcome if rather strong snack, but perfect with some of Pouty’s cheese.  A quick change was in order for myself, swapping the thong and tassels for the hollowed out corpse of Mo Mowlem and a large stick. Chili met us along with Hendytron who had both turned up decked with baubles, tinsel, tampons and lights, but only for the Christmas period. Ahem. Many many drinks were had, Lily Rodgers was found passed out on a sofa, covered in used pools coupons and peat from her costume as an Irish gambler, she was soon wheeled out the door and onto a waiting milk float for the long, cold, slow trip back to Unigate.

Hwang managed to get both his hands stuck in a lass who had arrived dressed as a wardrobe, apparently as he was trying to get in rather than out.! Emmy-loo remained unimpressed and rather unsteady on her 14inch platforms with added fish. Sexy Dave arrived just in the nick of time to steal photos of everyone, literally as it turned out, by robbing everyone of their photo driving licences and passports. He was last seen entering the ladies toilets with an eyeliner in one hand and the Egyptian Book of the Dead in the other. Chanting was heard and three scene kids were later found emptied of all bodily fluids.

As the night drew to a close a late gate crasher turned up… Rich arrived in just his underwear, when asked he said he was a premature ejaculation as he had just come in his pants. (bad-om-boom-tish).

And so a happy night was had by all. I wobbled my way to a taxi and eventually rode it like a cowboy all the way home whilst whooping at the top of my voice like Doctor Zoidberg from Futurama. I wonder if Pouty got all the cheese out.?’

 Same again next year.?

Fireworks night… what a lovely evening. Nothing quite beats smoking a large Cuban cigar in a garden full of gunpowder smoke  stood next to Chili holding a cigarette, hehe. But seriously, my bro and his mate put on a very nice show, lots of pretty lights and loud bangs, which is all I am hoping for from a selection of fireworks. Started off with hot dogs and burgers and finished with tea and chicken (although in different containers) courtesy of mother and the night was a big success.

It does lead me nicely into a slight annoyance (what a surprise)… Asda, such as they are, have apologised and promised to change the front of a set of fireworks they have been selling which had a picture on the front that caused offence to some people. The picture in question was a mushroom cloud. The sort left by a nuclear explosion. Who in the hell complained about that and more importantly WHY.!?!

Ok I see, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, boom, hello Mr Japanese Man why are you crying, you get the idea… but that was nothing to do with the picture on the box of fireworks, THAT was a generic picture of a nuclear explosion. So lets leave the bloody things alone next time you whingy fucks and do something useful with our time. Or at least can you promise that if there is ever a nuclear war, you will be fighting in it rather than writing letters to Asda that read…

 ”Dear Sir, I was horrified to see a picture of a nuclear mushroom cloud on the front of my large box of fireworks I purchased. It totally put me off the large tapestry of Caligula bumming a goat that I happened to be masturbating over at the time. Please could you kindly remove it on all future boxes of explosives. By the way the Asda Smart Price KY Jelly works a treat. My 96 year old wife has never been more lubricated, even during that time she almost drowned in the sea at Mablethorpe during the war. Your’s with moisture, Mr K. Unt,”

On another totally different note, I ended up watching the Big Brother Winner’s Come Dine With Me. It was actually very funny, if only in a sad way.Four people cooked… I knew only three of them but oh well. Now then who was on…

Firstly there was Nadia. The tranny. She didn’t serve anything with nuts.
Then there was Brian Dowling. I don’t think he was being straight with the other guests.
Up popped Sophie next with the blown up frontage, but her food didn’t contain anything artificial.
Finally was Brian Bellow… he didn’t need a joke because he was genuinely odd but a very nice man.

The normal contestants on the weekly show are still weird and getting weirder though.!

I did miss the yearly Hobbits/Decades Halloween party this year, with a heavy heart, I did save a lot of money doing so though and I wasn’t sick/didn’t make anyone cry/didn’t pull someone with a beard and a tattoo saying ‘HMS Ark Royal’ across his or her chest. Maybe next year I shall pick up my proton pack, big head or Luigi hat and dance around the floor to Thriller once more. It did make me wonder just what a night out would entail if I thought it through in my head… like if I was in a dream and it was the 31st of October all over again…

Maybe it will come to me in my sleep tonight and I will be able to put it on here tomorrow… Keep watching folks and as ever…

Don’t have nightmares.!