1pm, Christmas day…

Well it is almost time for the Queen’s speech. Sadly the Queen couldn’t make it today, something about being on TV and having to unwrap huge amounts of pressies and so you will be stuck with good old Fluffy Bunny (Oi.! Less of the old thank you very much). This year I shall be doing this as a review of the year, like my normal New Year thing, but I have something different planned for that. Anyway, on with the fun.!

So what have we missed in the past twelve months. Well music for a start, a distinct lack of it at work has led to way too much out of control/tune singing and daft dancing to no sound. Then again, having seen the Chart line up from last weekend maybe not having access to a radio may very well be a good thing. If we all thought music had put on a thick coat, some winter shoes and a scarf in 2009 then in 2010 it packed its bags and fucked off to Argentina on a Latin American holiday (and has subsequently been kidnapped in Bolivia and is now being held hostage by Justin “No dick or balls” Bieber and Lady “Massive dick and two balls” Gaga). Finding Rihanna four times in the top 40 just made me wince and Matt “Smex Factor” Cardle at number one whilst “Fairytale of New York” the GREATEST Christmas song ever written languished at number 19… well I was already loading both barrels and throwing some grenades in the jeep.

Then I remembered last year and Rage Against the Machine and calmed down a bit.

Now what else tickled us in this past year.?

January: the tallest building in the world opened in Dubai, specifically so they could see the top of their huge pile of money (Which they then lost… down the back of the sofa). A big earth-a-shake in Haiti caused George W and Bill Clinton to pop over to help sort if all out. Haiti has now reverted to pre-stoneage technology and hunting sabre-toothed animals.

February: The Winter Olympics were held in Canada, next time they will be held in Qatar (if FIFA gets enough money shoved through it’s letterbox).

March: Someone sinks a boat off the coast of South Korea and then 7 months later someone retaliates. Talk about delayed reactions.!

April: Greece runs out of money and sells off all it’s olives and feta to pay it’s debts. I bought it all. ALLLLL. *Burp*. Oh and BP left a tap running in the Gulf of Mexico and coated most of the Southern United States coast with oil. Never have so many chips been fried for so many by so few.

May: Scientists discover that humans and neanderthals probably shagged like dogs. A quick look at any advert with Kerry Katona and Danny Dyer would have saved them years of work.

June: We lost the world cup. Again. But so did the Germans so yay.!

July: Wikileaks starts pumping out information that the world wants to see (and with far less danger than the British Media) and pisses off just about every diplomat going.

August: Swine Flu goes the way of Bird Flu and leaves us all alone.

September: Nothing much happened in September, I think it may have been my month off and so news was unimportant, clearly. I suppose Katy Perry probably released a single. Maybe Jordan Andre shagged someone new.

October: The International Space Station celebrates the longest inhabited space occupation. Records show that it still has more atmosphere than most of the nightclubs in Weston.

November: CERN scientists and their huge hardon hadron collider trap antimatter for a sixth of a second. Almost as long as FIFA took to decide whether to give the World Cup to an ex-Communist country full of mafia bosses with deep pockets or us.

December: Nasa announces the discovery of a new arsenic based life form in California. Within 24 hours three people have tried to eat it, nine have tried to hump it and seventy five per cent of the population of Sacramento claim to have been abducted by it.

Not much happened in 2010 it seems. We have had a lot of snow though. More than I remember since about 1981 so something must be amiss somewhere.

We did lose some important people sadly, Leslie Nielsen, Gary Coleman, Malcolm McLaren, Alex Higgins, Dennis Hopper, Tom Walkinshaw and Norman Wisdom.

More sadly we didn’t lose the following people… Simon Cowell, Davina McCall. Katie Price. Cheryl Cole (although almost, must try harder Mr Mosquito), Jonathon Ross.

What would we like to see during 2011 then.? Jensen or Lewis lifting that championship again would be good. Bloody good season apart from the first race, some top notch racing.! I would love to see a Raoul Moat lookalike get hold of a sniper rifle and hunt down some of the stars of Eastenders. Maybe 2011 will be the year that Madonna realises her age and gets rid of those bloody leotards… look love, the crotches of those things must be honking by now. Bin them and buy yourself some leggings. More television commercials with ducks in them. Less television commercials with fat irritating psuedo-Italian singers and/or music by La Roux. Oh and we would all love to see Milton Keynes flattened by a nuclear explosion preferably between 9am and 5pm on a weekday.

AAAAANNNNDDDD finally, I have a problem. I need to define my record of the year and I cannot. Despite this year being fucking wank with regard to mainstream music, there still have thankfully been one or two shining stars. This is where I have the trouble. I am simply unable to separate the two tunes I consider most worthy of the “StitchingBastard Music Award 2010″ and therefore, hereafter and forthwith I name both Little Big Town AND Gabriella Cilmi as my winners (and anything involving those cunts Florence and the Machine as the biggest losers since Hitler shot his cyanide ridden self and then got burnt up lots by them SS geezers, like). So I leave you with both of the above.! Enjoy, and a very Merry Christmas to you all.!!

ps… Actually I just noticed that the Record of the Year (according to fuck-knows-who) was awarded to Owl City and the song Fireflies. May I suggest that you dear viewers have never had it so good.! OWL CITY.? I will take his keyboard and push it so far up his arse that not even Rakhmaninov would be able to get a decent tune out of it. *descends into whimpering and moaning*

I am sure you have all seen the new festive adverts for a certain fast food restaurant well I decided to make it a bit more, well, real…

(To the tune of “Deck the halls”)

A bag of fries with too much salt on,
and a coke, no ice, with no fizz.
Over cooked, rubbery quarter pounders,
and a cup of tea that tastes like piss.

Heaven forbid they assemble an order and put in the bag all the things…
that I paid for 20 minutes ago whilst they fucked about and the whole place mings.

A filet-o-fish that resembles a car crash,
box of six nuggets that taste of chimp.
A big mac built by a blind epileptic,
cooked an hour ago and gone all limp.

So I end my fast food adventure,
wishing I had gone for a curry instead.
Bollocks to you Mcdonalds restaurants,
with your shoddy meat and mass produced breaaaaad.

(I love you really… no I do, well more than Burger King… I would rather lick Gillian McKeith’s sweaty fanny after a massive attack of the squits than eat at BK).

Whilst sitting back and enjoying the DVD entitled “Jimmy Carr… Telling Jokes” the other night I whipped up the special features menu and put on a show he performed for Comedy Central over in the good ole US of A. Aside from the fact that he had to dumb down a lot of the jokes for a market where literal humour is far and away the best way of getting a laugh (as that way the audience doesn’t have to think, which is usually a struggle, let’s face it) it was the quantity of jokes that took something away from the performance.

You see for some reason American audiences are extremely easily pleased.  I noticed this when I watched Jeff Dunham’s live show as well, the assembled crowd don’t just laugh, appreciate the joke and then maybe politely clap for a decent gag, ooohh no, they instantly turn to each other as though the joke is personally expressed towards them and do the Homer Simpson thing (that is to say they slap their foreheads and say “Yes, oooh yes, oh god yes” before their ‘tired from laughing’ arms sag to their sides). That is the point at which they start clapping. They clap at every little thing. Like a beach full of sealions they slap their hands together at the slightest funny line and it totally destroys the flow of the comedy.

A good stand up show is funny, cleverly and wittily written but most importantly well timed. Jimmy Carr is certainly all of these but no comedian should have to face a group of people, no matter how well armed with top notch material he or she is, and put up with a barricade of over the top whooping and applause when there is no call for it. I always did wonder why I found American funnymen less funny than their UK equivalent and now I realise that it really isn’t because all Richard Prior’s jokes are about being black. It isn’t because all Eddie Murphy’s jokes are about being black. It really isn’t because all Ruby Wax’s jokes are about being American and female. It is purely down to the people sat watching them turn the atmosphere into one of a brawl in a laughing gas factory.

Just think of the comparison between US TV and UK TV, especially in the Ricki Lake/Jerry Springer/Trisha/Jeremy Kyle vein… Ricki Lake is a good starting point as her show was one of the founders for the later efforts from the other three and since the mid 1990s when I first started watching it I always was amazed at the crowd chanting ‘Ricki Ricki’ at everything she said. Then Mr Springer arrived and put forward the notion that you didn’t need a normal show to make things odd, you could turn the place into a freak show and slide in a moral tale at the end and THAT makes it weird. Both of these shows are way over the top when it comes to audience participation. Us in the UK seem to be able to reign in our desire to ‘put our hands together’ every third sentence thankfully. Rarely on JK or Trisha do you hear anyone shouting out or anything apart from some good old booing when some slag comes out or some wife beater.

Maybe it is just down to our innate sense of composure, something a lot of students apparently lack, and the upright air that generally gets picked up by every impersonator around the world. Or maybe it is because no matter how much beer we swill, no matter how much we fail to cope with an inch of snow that melts after one night, no matter just how many 11 year olds get knocked up by their cousins (Bridgwater and Norwich I am looking at you) we know how to behave when in a theatre.!

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.!

Are we all enjoying the irony of miners in the news and Mrs Thatcher hitting 85 years old.? No.? Well I am. The unions fucked themselves royally up the arse and ended up costing the British Coal industry dear. Throughout the 1970s and early 80s the unions ran riot over the country and strike followed strike, power cuts, rubbish left uncollected, people even died.!!! She sorted them and pushed a mango up the backside of Argentina to boot. Happy birthday Missus.

I actually popped on to air a view. *frrrrp* There we go. *wafts*. Sorry, no, I mean I want to have a rant…

If the Halifax put one more of their fucking adverts on air I am going to have to kill them. All of them. Top of company to bottom, all murdered by me with a large bucket of sodium bicarb, an enema delivery system and a massive bottle of vinegar. If I hear ISA ISA BABY one more time from those two smug looking cunts pretending to be running a radio station (wow, talk about imitation, it’s almost the Chris Moyles show!) then we shall have to open a concentration camp for Bank workers and put them all in it.

Why are adverts getting so annoying. Go Compare is another prime example. It is very catchy, like HIV, but I would never want to adopt anything the advert advertises.! If as a company you decide to piss me off by producing an ad with stupid music (like webuyanycunt.com/for a pittance and only if it’s a nice car and we never stop emailing you as we don’t know how to stop sending out our shit spam like mail)  which makes me want to bite through a wooden spoon like a musket bullet riddled soldier or if your business is using chips made my Intel and you feel the desire to add their awful signature noise at the end then stay away from me and my family.

Intel annoy me so much with that advert that I advise people buying a computer to avoid Intel totally THAT is how much it winds me up. Actually that isn’t far removed from talking people out of buying copies of Norton anti-virus after the havoc their awful piece of software caused a relative.

An advert should be fun. It should be catchy. It should interest you in what is being put forward, be it new and exciting or old and familiar. I don’t sit in my lounge watching an advert for Boots and enjoy it because they use that bloody song “Here come the girls” by what used to be the Sugababes but is now three slags who get arrested sometimes (and probably steal things anyway as one is a Scouser), I sit there thinking “I am going to avoid going into there and giving them my business as they are obviously incapable of producing an advert that doesn’t make me want to go and maim small children”. If they put the same ad up and used a good song (Overload maybe) it might make less sense but I would be more inclined to pop in more often.

The current crop of ads using 1980s music works for instance. Coco Pops using Dead or Alive ‘You Spin Me Right Round’ is brilliant and much better than that fucking monkey. Cadbury’s and that gorilla, brilliant. Oatsosimple and Camberwick Green, one of the best adverts in the history of TV. See some get it right, some rim themselves into a corner, I just wished the good ones prevailed.

I’m done now. Oh and isn’t the new Gordon Ramsay series, UK’s Best Restaurant, rather fun.

Dear Royal Mail.

As much as I appreciate your service, getting letters from one place to another day in day out, early in the morning (11am is still morning right?) every day of the year (except weekends, bank holidays and any day when you lot are on strike), I do think you need to start using one of those little jars of common sense you see in fictitious shops next to the huge boxes of Simon Cowell Ego Repellent. I was waiting for a parcel on Wednesday which you somehow manage to deliver in the 30 minute gap when I was out. Unknown to me, my dear bro had grabbed the “we called and missed you” slip along with one of his own which he wanted to also collect at the same time from the sorting office.

Imagine his surprise when he handed over both slips at the sorting office to be told “Sorry you cannot take this one, unless you have the ID of the person on the label”. Errr why.? We share a surname, we have exactly the same address, it is almost like we are related you know.! If you rang my doorbell the door would be answered by ONE person who your postman would give the parcel to, he would not ask for ID, he would not insist he could only give the parcel to the person named on the label, he would quite rightly assume as he was at the house marked on the address that both people lived there.

Could you please offer some explanation for this frankly stupid system you operate and also explain how I can claim the petrol money back for a wasted journey which you caused.

Yours With Deepest Confusion

Fluffy Bunny.

(I’ll let you know what happens).

You know when you get something stuck in your head and it’s impossible to shake off, like a bit of catchy music, the wording of a popular TV ad slogan or the first thing you need to say to the people your priests have done up the arse, well I have a thing caught that can only be resolved by experimenting.

It comes courtesy of Chili and a couple of friends…

Soup Sandwiches, are they feasible.? This has been in my head for days now and I see no chance of it going away unless I get the bread out and give it a test. There appears to be three main ways to complete this near impossible task:

1, The use of a hollowed out roll, bap or baguette but that seems like cheating as it is certainly not a sandwich in the traditional sense.
2, Sandwich toasted sarnie with the soup poured in the unsealed end and then recooked on the unsealed edge.
3, Using thick butter as a sealant and as a resistant substance to prevent leakage through the slices of bread.

Now would this all be easier using a thicker type of soup, perhaps cooked within the toasted sandwich, such as mushroom or oxtail or would it be best to use a powder soup, Cup-a-soup for instance, with less water added to be more of a paste than a soup. Interesting I think.

Now let us consider our three options in more detail.

1, A roll is a good idea, you can hollow it out, pour in the soup and eat BUT you will have to eat it on one side to prevent the soup pouring out the entrance hole you made in the first place, plus, it certainly is not a proper sarnie. Baps might be too soft and porous but a tiger roll or a hard french stick would work.

2, The toasted option would make sense, there is no need to put the soup in to begin, use one of the classic Breville style scalloping toasters and it would seal the edges perfectly, put a piece of metal or plastic to prevent one side sealing and add the soup as soon as the other sides are sorted., using thicker soup to prevent run out or slamming the lid down FAST.

3, Can you slap on some thick but more importantly COLD butter to prevent the soup splattering itself across the kitchen when you eventually pick the sarnie up.

This needs researching people.!!! Help me out here.!

On a totally different note, aren’t Status Quo fucking brilliant. All those songs, all those years, yes they sound the same if you listen to them too much but who cares.? It is really great ‘make you smile and sing’ music that never gets old. Let us have a big cheer for the Quo.! Hurrah.!!!

Thirdly on my list of things to get off my chest, Justin Lee-Collins, the new target of my lustful hate. Moyles, Blaine, Blair, Brown, Blunt (hang on what is it with me and people who have B as their last initial (last initial is that the right wording to use.?)), Goody, McCall actually if I list all the people in the world I detest then I will be here all night but suffice to say Mr J Lee-Collins of Fuckknowswhere, New Hertfordshire has joined it thanks to that bloody Barclays advert with the money birds. Piss off you beardy twonk and stop annoying me. I have never been too happy with your general appearance or voice… or sense of humour, you are around as funny as a bus driving through a queue of pensioners (actually, hehehehe). So please go away, or at least stop doing crap adverts for shitty credit card companies and banks.

Errr what’s next…? Oh yes, How close can it be in the last few F1 races now.!?! Very bad luck to the Ham, made a stupid error in Monza and then had that racing incident in Singapore, but then again Webber has had problems, Vettel has crashed out, Button has blown up, Alonso has been a big cheating twat in Germany and should fuck off, so it’s all to play for. Let’s just hope Korea goes on as planned though.!!

Think that will do me for now, enjoy your rather moist day and see you all in the bar for a drink after…

supersmashinglovely-here’swhatyoucouldhavewon.

*****LATE NEWS*****

 I forgot to say, I bought a copy of Rail mag yesterday for the first time in about 5 years and it made me so miserable. The lack of locos, the horrible new DMUs such as the 185s and the total mess that Network Rail is making of the country was terrible. I will stick to my good old copies from 1990 etc, where the stock list changes took up three pages, the 2EPBs were still in use and the Class 50s still blatted up and down the line near me.