G’day spunks. How is life in Ramsey Street treating you.? Has Helen Daniels been licking you up the legs or have you been shat on by Joe Mangle from a great height.? Maybe chasing Annalise and Lauren around the pool starkers whilst Beth cheers you on would help.? No.? Well just me then.

Anywho I am here for a specific reason. Chr….. go on, guess the rest of that name. It’s easy I promise, although you haven’t heard much about him from me of late… Chr…Chrrrriiisss. Mooooyyyleessss, that’s it, a big word for a big arrogant cunt.

So why has he appeared once more on my bloggy radar I hear you ask yourself.?

He hasn’t been paid for two months. TWO. TWWWOOOO WHOLE MONTHS. Fucking hell.! Quick let’s hold a whip round and make sure he has enough fat soaked snacks to keep his twatishness level up. As someone pointed out, perhaps he is now being paid per joke which means he may not see any more cash before Easter 2032.

I can understand the annoyance at not being paid if he was on an 8 to 6 job at minimum wage with a massive debt and a couple of sprogs to account for but he isn’t. The big ugly cock is paid well over half a million a year and I can’t see that he would spend all of it, not leaving a single penny for moments such as this. What if he had lost his job or been severely injured in an accident involving a chainsaw, a large tube of KY and his anus.?

The fact he had the sheer audacity to have a go at someone who sent in a text saying “Stop moaning, you get paid a fortune compared to most people” shows just how far out of touch with reality some people are. Ok you will still get your money but it has been a little delayed so shut up, get on with the four hours ‘work’ a day that you do and stop whinging. As one of the many over paid celebrities in the world who clearly don’t deserve their massive salaries perhaps you would care to donate your missing back pay to charity to show that you want to spread the wealth a bit.

Or do you have to buy another wheelbarrow full of shit stuffed pies to push into ‘Comedy’ Dave’s ringpiece or down Aled’s japs eye.

On another note the ONE foundation run on behalf of Bono, him with the dark specs, has been found to have given only £18,000 to charities despite being given £9.6 MILLION in gifts last year. Somehow it has a wage bill of £5.1 million as well. What in hell is going on there.??? This is another reason why I don’t give to charity (apart from my GAYE one and the man with the poppies), the money rarely gets there, syphoned off by “admin” costs and similar. Remember how much everyone gave for the Tsunami appeal..? Well out of those millions raised only a small fraction (I have found figures ranging from 20 to 50 percent) was ever handed over… so where did the rest go.? In some fat cunt’s back pocket so he can get another ladyboy to give him a Boston Pancake in a Thai bar.

Well enough of that kind of ranting and on with the rest of my holiday time. Hurrah.!

It is still early on a Sunday morning. Chili has wandered off to work, the TV is on, the weather is misty and cool.

And already I am incensed.

The catholic church is struggling to work out why the public in the UK is getting rather pissy over having to pay for his Nazi Holinesses visit later this year. Struggling.? Now why is that.? Let us delve a little deeper…

The Arch Bishop of the Catholic Church, a Mr Vincent Nichols, has appeared on TV to tell Andrew Marr that it would be a sad day when this country couldn’t afford a state visit. He seems to be under the delusion that we want the pope here. I am a christian to a certain extent, but not a catholic (I can’t afford the legal fees if I got caught fucking choir boys for a start) and it doesn’t bother me whether this random person wanders around the streets of Birmingham or if he spends his time sitting in the Kidderminster branch of Wimpy…

*******NEWS FLASH*******

we interrupt this blog to bring you this question… what the fuck is going on with Come Dine with Me.?? It’s suddenly full of sixty year old men dressed as women and people who appear to have failed the Big Brother auditions. Ok it is set in Brighton so it is understandable but it doesn’t half put you off your chicken bovril.!

*******End of Flash (ooooh err)*******

sorry where was I… oh yes, does it fucking matter if he comes or not.? A survey commissioned by the Theos think tank found almost 80% of people think he shouldn’t bother coming and a very similar amount thought we shouldn’t be paying for him in the first place. Has the Catholic church gone bust or something or was the money just resting in his account one wonders.

And the total cost of his visit to kiss the tarmac at East Midlands airport (probably) and wear a dress around the Midlands… Twelve. Million. Quid. Yes the same amount Chris Evans recently paid for a Ferrari GTO, the same amount Tiger Woods got for his Gillette deal, the very same amount the Vicky Beckham got for stripping her clothes off for Armani (was it worth it… really.? She kept her undies on and it isn’t like she looks pretty or owt).

I don’t want my tax pounds being spent on Pope German the 53rd in the same way that if the head of the Muslim church or the Jewish church turned up I wouldn’t buy their hotel room either. Maybe if it was someone a bit higher up, you know, like God, then I would personally go out and get a red carpet and put up some hanging baskets. I might even buy him a fry up if he was hungry (or find him some gay men to stone if it was Allah *insert drawing here*).

I suppose it’s a good thing he is German though. If it was the previous Polish one he would have been here already, driving for First Group and writing his 4’s like 7’s just to really piss me off.

On another even more amusing note, Tony Blair had eggs and shoes thrown at him in Dublin and was almost placed under citizens arrest for war crimes. Sadly his huge (private) police force (but paid for by the public) took them all away. We don’t want to pay for that grinning twat either. Or his fugly wife. Or any of his kids either.

In other news, HSBC is threatening to run away and hide if it is split into bits to prevent the kinds of fuck up that has affected RBS et al. In an interview their CEO said “waaah waaah I’m going to tell on you, you’re mean. I am gonna go hide in India and take all my toys with me you big bully”. Probably. Look your call centres are useless anyway mate, having them in Indian won’t make a jot of difference. I just hope that when you fly out there to inspect your new call centre, stuffed to the gills of moustachioed women talking English with an Urdu overlap that the plane crashes into the Pope’s plane and you both land in a flaming ball on top of Tony Blair and his van full of books.

I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore. What is the point.!? Simon Cowell has ruined anything prime time, soaps seem to be so repetitive and pointless that it would be hard to tell which one you are watching save for the accents (Eastenders – cockney, Coronation Street – northern, Hollyoaks – spastic) and quiz shows have all followed the same over dramatic ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire’ bollocks that makes me want to grab Chris Tarrent by the testicles and squeeze until his Tis Wasses. What of the other programmes.? Well The Bill I used to enjoy until it stopped being about coppers in London and started being about coppers who were ethnic/gay/serial killers/bent in a criminal sense/shag everyone in the station before setting fire to it. Casualty used to be fun too but suffered in exactly the same way, more so since they stopped it being Bristolian (watch episode one on Youtube and you will see what I mean). I suppose it is a bloody good job that London’s Burning finished a while back as I seem to remember it heading the same way.

What else is there.? Well comedy is populated by the bloody yanks or Horne and Corden who are about as funny as getting a needle full of AIDS in your eye whilst having a moose bum you. The rash of panel shows such as 9 out of 10 cats and Argumental are ok but are rather obviously scripted which makes them far less amusing. Ok I guess I could watch the discovery channel areas which do have some good stuff on as long as Hitler, Ray Mears or wondering how a teapot is made is your cup of tea (two out of three for me there). Other than that lot I have JML, QVC or the glut of channels that offer things in Welsh/Africaans/Swahili or German that scare the hell out of me. I do miss those old Saturday nights where Noel’s Saturday Roadshow preceded All Creatures Great And Small and Casualty fitted in a little later on, throw in Russ Abbot and Paul Daniels at some point and everyone is happy. Maybe they should let me loose onto the TV. I would sort them out and get some decent stuff showing again, nothing with Ant and fucking Dec, nothing with Simon Cunting Cowell and definately NOTHING WHATSOEVER with Davina McCall. I can just imagine where this TV mediocrity is going to end up…

TV Picks for Saturday 17th September 2016

18.00 – ITV1: An Audience with Jade Goody – Newly rebuilt as a cyborg the partially rotten remains of Miss Goody presents a programme of fun, racism and gobshitery whilst dripping corpse juice over Sir Michael Grade’s carpet.

19.00 – BBC1: PingPongPang – Ant and Dec present an entirely new quiz show based around the game of table tennis with a chinese guy. Fabulous prizes and a lifetime supply of prawn crackers to be won.

19.30 – ITV6.5: Jam Two Fingers In This – The fat one from Trigger Happy TV fucks off around Britain dressed as an electrical socket inviting the unsuspecting public to invade his japs eye and anus.

20.00 – BBC1: News and Weather – Read by Katie Price with Harvey bumping into things in the background and Kerry Katona snorting all the clouds off the weather map.

20.15 – BBC1: National Lottery Live – Eamonn Holmes introduces the show where those of you with a medical condition could win a hospital bed or a lie-in on a trolley in a drafty corridor by the burns unit.

20.30 – Fred: Top Gear – Clarkson/Hammond/May present the 46th series of the show. Jeremy drives around Crewe shooting pensioners from the back of a Land Rover, Hammond crashes a jet propelled caravan into a bus queue and Captain Slow defecates in the back seat of a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. Repeated hourly until the end of eternity.

21.30 – ITV1: Simon Cowell On Gangs – Misquoted title leads up to the revised heading Gangs On Simon Cowell. Brixton teenagers dressed as dancers repeatedly dive off the stage in front of a live studio audience to push long knives into the smug faced twats neck. Amanda Holden gets ripped apart by a pack of blood hungry pit bulls and Piers Morgan gets a Burnley Wallet.

23.00 – Channel 4: On Guard Against the Retard – Dermot O’Leary presents the Seventeenth attempt at replacing Big Brother as 12 special needs children are wired up to electrodes and let loose in various Supermarkets armed with sarin gas grenades and sawn off shot guns. Simultaneously on Channel 4Toss Davina McCall hosts the same show but replaces the word brilliant with fantastic and occasionally humps the camera lens.

01.00: Every fucking channel possible – Terry Wogan’s Wig Striptease for Children in Need/Comic Relief/ITV Telethon/Some other waste of money and time.

03.00: The world ends.

Honestly… this is exactly what will happen.! I am thinking of starting a cult against bad TV. We could worship Bob Holness, him off Blockbusters and run around wearing little loin cloths and such. Just paypal me all your money and I will rent a flat, then a farm when we get more members. We could sell the rights to the bit where the FBI and ATF turn up with tanks and shoot us all. Join up now and recieve a realistic fake photo of Timmy Mallett and Magic signed by the Krankies.

Suppose it must be time for a new blog then… as it is over a month since the last one. Bloody hell.!

Well since then I have gained another year of age, but let us face it, I am still a lady killer. Nothing to do with my looks or charm, just this big knife and blood covered hessian sack.

My birthday was rather fun. Picture, if you will (if you won’t then that is totally up to you but it will make this next bit seem rather boring) myself, Chili, Pouty, Hwang, Mikey and Harrz and their friend (who’s name totally escapes me due to a certain Fluffy Bunny ending up a complete and drunken bastard by 2am) and the regulars of the White Lion and Decades. Now add in stupidly drunk me and lots of dancing to Britpop (just me, alone on the dancefloor to Pulp’s Do You Remember The First Time) and then throwing up having got hiccups. Was a very good night.!

Now then. Or is it then now. Either way, now what has been happening in the world. Oh yes, rather fine Grand Prix trickery involving a Mr Ham and Belgium. Brilliant drive in the moist conditions and also a rare race where I shouted and, for the first time ever I think, swore at the TV (when Vettel managed to wreck the radiator of Button’s McLaren and I responded with the word TWAT said waaaay too loudly). Next weekend is Monza, fuck knows who will win there.!

The world hasn’t changed too much in the past month unless you live in Pakistan where you are probably reading this up to your armpits in cold water and throwing things at your cricket team, might stop you phoning me up when I am in the bath to try and sell me something though. Bastards.

As the current B3ta question of the week is about complaints I was wondering how many times complaining has got me anywhere. First Great Western have had a lot of my complaints to absolutely fuck all resolution (suggesting using a loco hauled set to improve their service levels which ironically were refused by FGW on cost grounds and then started up successfully by Arriva and then passed onto DBS who now run 67s and a mk2 set from Cardiff to Taunton etc, nice one boys). The meatballs thing did get me free meatballs so that was good and a few years ago I got free train travel from Virgin, let me explain…

I had been to York with Pika so she could check out the university there. I fucked off to the National Railway Museum (well I have never been there since or before so it made sense) and we both met back earlier than expected and using our £60 walk on fare tickets we got an earlier return train as it was running a little late. The HST was failed at Sheffield and we were shoved onto the following HST (which was the one we were going to catch anyway). We got home around the same time we expected to anyway having witnessed an old man using a mobile phone like a walkie talkie much to my hysterical amusement and the guard offered round the complaint forms.

Mine came back a week later with a credit note for half my original fare.! I spent it on another trip to Portsmouth uni hunting and a shopping trip to Taunton (oh and whilst in Portsmouth I managed to empty the fruit machine on the platform of £40 and that paid for food, drinks and shopping too. Brilliant). So all in all a worthwhile complaint, although I am totally glad it was in the pre-Voyager era because that would have been fucking awful.!

Bruce Springsteen is currently dancing in the dark in the back ground so I suppose I should dance in to the light (now who sang that.??) Night all.!

I read yesterday that Mary Anne Hobbs is leaving Radio One (hello all, by the way). The last DJ that I actually consider worthy of hosting a radio programme is finally jumping from that anus of the FM bands and finding pastures new.

Now either I am getting old… yes, I know, don’t say it, or Radio 1 has changed to the point where to be a DJ you have to be irritating, full of personality in a bland way or just downright boring. I’ve listened to Radio 1 since the late 80s and people have come and go (in a big way back in the early 1990s when they literally fired two thirds of the DJs such as DLT, Gary Davies, Adrian Juste and even Bruno Brookes and Steve Wright) to be replaced with the newer talent (Chris Evans, Mark and Lard *sigh*, Jo Whiley and Steve Lamacq) which althoughthey  took a while to get used to, they didn’t grind.

Then, at the turn of the millenium it all seemed to fall apart. Mark Goodyear headed off to Classic FM, Simon Mayo left in search of Radio 5live leaving us with Jo Whiley… but on her own without the calming effect of Steve. Fuck. Zoe Ball and Kevin Greening disappeared (the late Mr Greening first, always did seem like an odd couple) to be replaced by Sara Cox, a woman who I would cross motorways to set fire to. Oh and THEN Vernon Bloody Kaye turned up VERNON KAYE. Words cannot adequately express my hatred of that man.

Actually it doesn’t stop there does it. At night used to be Nicky Campbell… ok bad example… how about Sunday nights then, John Peel followed by Andy Kershaw. If I could only listen to music like that again. So what do we get now.? Westwood, the whitest man to ever grace the personality of a coloured gent. ‘The Dreem Team’, those three dodgy gits who appeared on a Sunday morning when garage music was suddenly big and then vanished into thin air the second it wasn’t. Oh and Zane Lowe. Prick.

I am sure I have forgotten someone… ah of course. Chris. Stinking. Moyles.

The worst thing in the history of Radio One. A man who has caused me to write at least four blogs solely devoted to his smug cunt face. Along with his group of cock sucking twats he turns every morning into a programme about as funny as watching a documentary on the Dunblane massacre. He may have lost weight and rubbed some sandpaper over that Desperate Dan like visog but he still makes me want to punch puppies just at the merest hint of his voice.

Sadly it will never change. I am not clamouring for the old days (unless Mark and Lard return etc etc) I just want to know I can listen to a radio station that is full of decent music and a little chat without resorting to DJs that remind me that the world is populated by men in tracksuits covered in Elizabeth Duke fake gold and holding a Greggs dummy or women who have a flower planted in their fucking hair, teeny weeny shorts and a fucking huge shirt on.

Here endeth the lecture. I am going to go and lie down now. My bile is risen.

PS – Just remembered Scott Mills escaped that list, but as he has all the natural charm of a coconut covered in excrement with a wig on I don’t think much needed to be said, take your drive time show and force it up your backside.

Allow me to be a little on the controversial side… I am actually not sure how I can word this properly but here goes…

As you know I am a big fan of all things mechanical. If it makes noises and is powered by some sort of fuel then I am in. Of late I have been reading an excellent book (for the third time) which I had always avoided in the past. It is called Steam for Scrap and it gives a comprehensive, but not exhaustive, review of the demise of steam on British Railways (no don’t worry this isn’t all about trains, it’s a little deeper than that).

Now the reason I have only recently started to read this book is because the photos of these grand, powerful machines being cut up, thrown into wagons and resmelted has always made me very melancholy. The many yards around the country destroyed the best part of 16,000 once proud locomotives in a little over a decade. Thankfully a certain Mr Dai Woodham of Barry, South Wales, bought lots of them and then left them for years, untouched until the preservation movement got really going and the last loco left in 1990 (a 2-6-2 GWR prairie tank if I remember correctly).

So where does this become a little close to the bone. Well reading the captions for a lot of the photos that show movements of withdrawn and condemned engines heading towards the scrap yards hauled by another of their soon to be extinct sisters (seeing a line of Castle class GWR locos being almost sadly dragged by another of the same class for instance) reminded me of another book I own, Auschwitz by Laurence Rees.

“What the bloody hell.?” I hear you cry. Well when the trains (again) of victims arrived within the walls of Auschwitz-Birkenau they were often hearded into the execution chambers by other inmates, maybe from their own town or even their own family. Looking at the folorn images in both books (and people who don’t recognise an emotional attachment between a human and a machine would never perhaps understand this) then it is such a hard thing to understand how either could happen.

Obviously I am not suggesting the holocaust was anything but a terrible event, nor am I trying to lighten it’s effects, but I just am amazed at the similarities between two such different events.

So strange.

You know what, I saw the video for that Lady Gaga song “Alejandro”. Wasn’t it lovely of Madonna to lend Gaga her back catalogue video collection and say “Here you go big nose, put on so slutty ridiculous outfit and then imitate what I did twenty years ago”. Well done Stefani, another triumph. Oh and the song is wank too, like tATu without the talent… such as it was.

Yes hello and welcome to blog number 650… SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY.?? Bloody hell, where does the time go. Actually if I had been writing these things like I used to it would be nearer a thousand by now easily. But my life is much less busy now, work is the only place I go, and that is a big pile of wank… SOMEONE OFFER ME A NEW JOB PLEEEASE.!

So Raoul Moat shot himself huh… wow. What a man.! he promises a rampage and then lies in a sewer for a week. Prick. Glad that one is dead, definately saved the tax payer a lot of money looking after him in jail. Plus his stupid genes will have died with him. Hurrah.

In the same vein Mr Peter “Yorkshire Ripper” Sutcliffe has been refused parole which is a shame. I think having him out would be fun, we just have to have him retrained to attack the Jeremy Kyle show guests, them with a sweaty giro hanging out their back pockets and velour tracksuits instead of the occasional prostitute.

I do appear to be in a moody today don’t I.!?

Well I have to admit I was a bit worried about how the new layout at Silverstone would affect the race… but it made overtaking possible.! Apart from wet races such as 2008, the circuit was rather processional since they added all the bloomin’ chicanes and such from 1986 onwards. Thankfully it appears to have made it all much more fun and what a race was had.! Unlucky for Vettel but a good recovery… and suck on that Alonso you whinging bastard, either overtake something or fuck off, as Niki Lauda once told Mario Andretti (I think). Well done to Webber and Hamilton for a great race which was full of thrills and spills and bits of Sauber littering the circuit.

Next up is Hockenheim, a circuit ruined by the removal of those loooong straights which made a totally different type of circuit more akin to Monza, Silverstone and Imola (as they were) to the twisty Barcelona or Jerez type thing they have going on there now. Still the racing isn’t bad so hopefully it will be an interesting race.

This on again off again weather is driving me nuts.! The other night it was prime thunderstorm time but there was nothing, nada, nowt going on. Grrrr. Either rain or get off the pot you bastard.

Ok enough. Tis rep run time in Ice Crown and I want to be exalted by tonight. Enjoy your week all.!

Ooops. It would appear that I have broken my rule of at least one post a month by going over two months between posts. Oh well, I am here now so I might as well look like I am staying *takes off coat and shoes* and see what we can come up with. Maybe I should cover a little news…

Firstly Sara Lee, you bastards. I am not sure if you are the same people who make those horrible frozen chocolate gateaux, but what the fuck have you done to my favourite bubble bath.? You see, I am a man who enjoys simple pleasures. I like a warm bed, a comfy hooker and some cheese strings like any other man, but I also enjoy sitting in a nice hot bath that is kind to me (my skin I mean as opposed to offering me sweets and bubble covered titbits). The source of my major complaint against the world.?

Matey. The sailor bottled children’s favourite which I love to soak my smooth skinned buttocks in has been sent the way of Tizer, Smarties and anything else that has been “new and improved”. Gone is the delightful scent that reminds me of many a childhood bath night replaced by the kind of bubble yum fragranced shite that every anus in marketing (a group of people who I consider third in the line of complete cunts behind George W Bush and buyers) assumes the world wants.

Well listen up Marketing peeps. The world isn’t populated by people who think reeking of insipid dog faeces coloured blue and put in a plastic bottle is fun. Nor is it filled with people who like Tizer anymore (because that REALLY tastes awful now). Stop improving things and look what happened to Coca-Cola in the 1970s when they changed their basic flavour. I hope you all go out of business and end up sucking men off in Soho doorways to pay for your next brie and chutney pannini.

Right, what’s next…

Ah yes, the bloody weather. It is bad enough that I have to work where I do, but to be heated beyond lava WITHOUT the benefit of a thunderstorm to relieve the humidity and wash Crazy Ady back into the gutter, well that just isn’t cricket. Can’t someone go and seed some clouds with silver and salt or something just so we get a decent light show maybe.? I know this week is meant to be record temperatures in London so maybe some of the twats you see on the news might die off a bit, but I can’t watch that though can I.?

Talking of things that are shit… I see 23 overpaid retards came back from somehow making it out of the first round of the world cup and then getting the living shit kicked out of them (sadly only on the field) by the Germans. Why on earth do we keep this up. For once I don’t think the manager is to blame. I don’t think any of the managers are to blame, I think it’s just that football teams in this country are so poor at picking up real talent that they don’t think twice about employing some Spanish cunt on a £100k a week salary who struggles to tie his own shoelaces when there might be a hundred far better players from home teams who would like a shot and a chance to become world class. Oh and taking Heskey with you to the World Cup is a bit like taking Peter Stringfellow to a girl’s school… sooner or later you know he’s going to fuck it.

The only person who did return to the UK with anything appears to have been Cheryl Tweedy (if you don’t include probably a couple of hundred guys with the clap and other nasty things they found over there). She picked up a marvellous little thing called malaria, which is fantastic. Hopefully next time Simon Cowell can go too and take Louis Walsh with him… go get yourself AIDS boys. Go on… you might just enjoy it.

The British Grand Prix takes over my life on Sunday afternoon… should be interesting at the very least. Not only have they changed Silverstone (annoyingly by adding a bit rather than removing all the chicanes and letting the drivers get on with it), but with The Ham and Mr Button out front in revised cars, it may be all or nothing.! It is awfully nice to see Alonso getting on so well the everyone again too, miserable bastard. You lost mate, unlucky. The Ham got enough drive through penalties etc in 2007 to last a lifetime even when it was obvious he didn’t deserve it. Thankfully they seem to have proper stewards now. Good.

Anyone who is reading this on an iphone4, if you want the rest to load then put the thing down and it will work… sooner or later.

A large cache of roman coins was found recently near Frome… Italy has pleaded that they need it back to cover the bills for new scooters and haircuts.

Right I am off to Kerry Katona’s house to dress her up as a policewoman and invite Raoul Moat round for a night cap. Actually I wonder if Davina McCall is home too.?

If this was 1987 I would be dressed in a brightly coloured suit, sleeves rolled up, permed hair flopping over my eyes like a Vidal Sassoon avalanche. But it isn’t. It is in fact the end of the fourth month of 2010 already. Are we really A THIRD of the way through the year? Frightening.

I do hope you have planted your chilli seeds by now, gardening tips,marvellous, I certainly have and I am looking forward to a rare crop of large hot things with which I can tickle my taste buds and disgust my workmates the morning after. I have also got around to plumbing in the two end of siding lights on the old layout (I better start thinking of a name soon). They do look good especially with the signals all lit up at the other end. Maybe I should recreate the model of MacDonalds I helped Cuddly Badger create back in the mists of time, that would be awesome.

I had one of my thoughts the other day. One of those that makes people moan at me for saying odd things. You see a black estate car passed my eye this week. It was one of those Mercedes hearses followed by a small convoy of stretched limos. I always think this is the worst way to present death. A slow sad procession wheeling itself off to the nearest graveyard or church on a final journey. It always seems very, well, depressing. I understand there is a certain tradition in England to be down on death but think about other countries. Marching brass swing bands, African tribes dancing around like loons up to their eyes on catnip.

It is a mournful occasion but surely it should be more of a celebration of life, that we are given this chance to exist, no matter how brief. I am not suggesting brightly colour Mercs and a fleet of party buses with built in bars for the wake, just a little lightening up of the situation. I hate funerals, it is solemn but let us be joyous, no matter what the religion, and celebrate that someone has lived, that they laughed with us and enjoyed their time (no matter how miserable they may have appeared) because life is short.

All I could think about when I was writing this blog was someone driving a hearse with the classic Kulashaker song “Grateful when you’re dead” playing in the background. Weird.

Saturday night I am out to party for the first time in ages.! I hope to see some of you buggers out, drunken and letchworthy. Do enjoy yourselves, I bloody will.!!!

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.!!!