New Years Day....... is today.

I've never been too fond of doing stuff when I'm supposed to. Whether its deadlines at work, revising before exams or making sure the girlfriend cums before me....

and I'm not waiting for New Years Day to change things in my life I should of done a long time ago.....

So..... its out with the ciggys, out with driving to work and out with anything else that makes my dull existence a little more interesting/challenging until it's warm enough to get back out on the bike again.....

probably

FilmLoop..... scrolling pictures.

I've found another little blogger gadget, tell me what ya think..

Goto the bottom of the right hand column and you should see a "Filmloop" of pictures scrolling across the column.

To create your own goto Filmloop and download the player. Once you've got it running simply drag & drop your chosen photos onto it. (after registering)

To get a blog version you need to right click on your FilmLoop and select "Web/Blog Link" option and copy/paste the script into your Blogger Template.

Burglar......

Ok Pete..... I rise again to your blog request....

This... unfortunately is a true story, and it happened to me...

It was not long after my divorce and I still had my house, car, three cats and a sense of responsibility.

I should point out here that my cats where mostly house bound cats.... Not because I'm overly protective, more to do with my neighbours being scary fuckwits who weren't particularly bothered what kind of meat went into their pies. The cats did go out into the garden but only for short periods, and while they were out I'd periodically check on the people walking past the house just to make sure their head-gear didn't resemble Davey Crocketts.


At some point during the evening I checked the house (we had been burgled previously) to make sure everything was secure and the catflap locked. I'd gone to bed and fallen asleep.

During the early hours of the morning I was awoken by a loud thud, in my drowsy state a shrugged it off as the cats playing on the stairs (usually a game of Tom & Jerry up and down the stairs was not unusual), so a short but sweet half grumbled, half mumbled "gerroffffeckintwatingstairsyanoisylittlegets" filled the night air.... and I returned to my lonely but peaceful rest.

Some time passed, not sure how long, but enough time to get me back to deep REM sleep. This time I HEARD the smash, it was loud enough to have me bolt upright in bed..... I was awake.... "Just what are those little bastards (the cats) upto down there?" I mumbled to myself. While I waited for my other personalities to wake and answer me I began to make out shapes at the end of my bed as my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness....

"Oh, there you are!" I said to the three cats sitting at the end of the bed.... I waited for the logic of what I was seeing and what I could still hear to sink in.... The cats were upstairs.... on my bed....shivering and cowering with eyes and ears zoned into the slightly ajar bedroom door while the crashing and smashing was still going on downstairs.

"Feck feck feck shite, fat knackers, there's some c*nt in my house" I probably said as I launched out of bed in the direction of the door... Luckily for me my incredible sense of self preservation kicked in and I stopped in my tracks.... If there is someone downstairs ransacking the place I didn't want to be the one on the wrong end of a crowbar or worse....

I dialed the cops....

"Police: what's the problem sir?"
"There's someone in my house..... I'm being burgled"
"Can I take you number and address?"
"555-12345, Number 6 Amersham Crescent..... It's probably the one with the door kicked in and a bloke with a stripy jumper and a bag with swag written on it in the garden"
"ok, we'll send someone round immediately.... Don't go downstairs and stay on the line"
CRASH....BANG.....WALLOP"
"Feck, there's must be two of them, I can hear things being thrown around in the living room and noises from the kitchen too....."
"Ok, officers are on their way...keep calm"
"......hmmmm......errrmmmm.....ok"

At this point I thought it might be a good idea to retrieve a piece of my broken bed and potentially use it as a weapon if the 6 ft gorilla who was smashing my living room up decided to venture upstairs... So there I was, bollock naked at the top of my stairs with a bit of 2x4 in one hand and phone in the other.....and three cats egging me on.

SMASH...CRASH.....

"Where the hell are those coppers?"... it's been like.... minutes...

I plucked up courage to just peek over the banister, see if I could see anyone on the stairs....

and I did.....


It was a cat..... not my cat either..... some bloody neighbours cat... then another appeared.... two cats....

Two cats that had broken in through the cat flap, and couldn't get back out again!
Two cats that had panicked and rampaged throughout the downstairs looking for a way out!
Two cats that were not 6ft burglars.
Two cats that had a bunch of coppers racing towards my house, night stick poised and pepper spray ready....
Two cats that were going to make me look very very silly.

I did attempt to tell the dispatcher about the two cats, but just as I did two cop cars rolled up outside and six of the biggest coppers I've ever seen marched up the drive.... I opened the bedroom window and let them know I was ok and it was a false alarm, but as they didn't know me from a burglar they kindly instructed me to open the door or they'd smash it down....

There's no point in explaining further, my embarrassment was sealed. After proving my identity and seeing several cats destroy what items I had left the coppers saw the funny side and left....


...and yes, I've heard all the "cat burglar" jokes.

In memory of a hero..... Stuart Adamson

Some people change the way you look at the world, I'd hate to think of what I would of turned out like if it wasn't for the music and lyrics (and gigs) of Stuart Adamson.

There's a group of people I know who would of ended up like the rest of the fuckwits and arseholes around us at the time, if it wasn't for the passion and honesty we learnt from people like him.

It's a shame I didn't get to talk with Stuart, it would of been nice to thank him for the experiences his music brought to me, both directly and indirect.

I'd never carried on drumming if it wasn't for Big Country, I'd never of met Linda either......and my cat would be nameless. Just about everything I did from age 13 upto 25 was influenced by Adamson's music.

I've deleted dozens of paragraphs from this post. No matter what I write it just doesn't do justice. In an odd kind of way, I think I now know what Stuart meant when he wrote the lyrics to "Eiledon"


Here's to you big fella....

Stuart Adamson
11 April 1958 - 16th December 2001

Professional disturber of the peace....

If it wasn't for divorce there'd be women all over the country thinking there was nothing wrong with them.

Seven songs......

I try to keep away from these "tagging" posts.... but as I've been specifically singled out by Mr Moore I thought I'd give it a go...

So, seven songs I'm listening to at the moment.

Jamie Cullum - London Skies
Del Amitri - Spit in the rain
Colin Hay - Overkill
Electric Light Orchestra - Mr Blue Sky
Will Young - All Time Love
Slade - Far far away
The Wonder Stuff - One step at a time

So, thats Pete's tag sorted.

Other seven things... I doubt I can be arsed to fill in seven lots of things.... but here they are

Seven things to do before I die

A sit down chat with the ex-wife
See a tornado (from a distance)
Get some security
Hip replacement
Get my knee down on a track with "Mr Blue Sky"
Do something profound, something my daughter will be proud of

Seven things I cannot do.

Simple arithmetic
Not panic on an aircraft
Hop, skip and jump.... or dance
Drink whiskey or gin
Watch, listen or read anything to do with Jamie Oliver
Vote in a general election
Think of seven things to put into lists

Seven things that attract me to my spouse/partner

Awkwardness
Selfishness
Materialism
infidelity
Alcoholism
Bad taste in music
Bad taste in friends

Seven things I say most often

Oh well, never mind then
These things happen, dont worry, no-one has cancer.
I hope you'll be happy with "insert blokes name here"
You fecking idiot
Why
Twat
Ow, ow feck, bastard leg

Seven books (or series) I love

Stig of the dump
Red Dwarf
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
Highway code
Peanuts

Seven movies I watch over and over

It's a wonderful Life
The Big Lebowski
Memento
Twin Town
Fight Club
Wonder stuff - Welcome to the cheap seats
The Goober Files

Seven people I want to join in.

seven random people

Chester's Farm......

Ever wondered how many people are thinking of you either directly or indirectly right at this moment? Or perhaps how many things around you at "home" have been influenced by someone close to you? Some people say that no-one ever dies, they live on in the memory of others..... can that be a reason why some people simply disappear?.

Pass me a wet-wipe, I've messed myself!

I've never been a fan of mass market consumerism and our over packaged cellophane wrapped disposable culture. We've missed a trick with community shopping and farmers markets that made our green and pleasant land what it once was.......

well, fat hairy knackers to that cos..

LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!! LOOK LOOK!

I saw them in Tesco's, I cant believe it! I just stopped dead in my tracks, the colour drained from my face and I had to steady myself between the tri-packaged peppers and organic Sharon fruit......... and I'm not ashamed to say I let out a little wee in the excitement.

But none of that matters anymore, because I've got....

YELLOW TOMATOES.......

Stephen Lynch...... funny man.

Oh dear...... he is a very funny man. There I was, stark naked* as usual in my living room pondering if I should open up my Speciality Bag of Tomatoes and along comes a very funny man and a guitar. Not the type you meet at Weybridge train station who insists he only needs the money for a coffee then suggests you have bottom sex with him behind a hedge.....

No, this one was on the telly, and he was very very funny indeed.

Goto his website and play "Grandfather". I nearly lost a nadger laughing.

Then buy the following..





*hehehehe, you now have very disturbing mental images of me naked. I have the power!

a conscientious objector to the war that’s in my mind

It’s seven waves away, something deep within, something that’s been here for a long time… and only waves away. It surfaces every now and again, making its symptoms known but never showing itself in full, knowing I may find its weakness. It’s a living breathing entity, with intelligence far greater than mine and cunning to match any beast the world has seen. It possesses weapons of mass deception…and its here right now. Watching, waiting, contemplating…. it’s next clandestine move, breaking down, travelling to that familiar place, somewhere we can’t be found where our poison ferments…..just seven waves away.

Inwards...

I've had a great day today.... and I don't say that very often.

My innards have stopped aching (due to strenuous vomiting). .....

I can cough without doubling up in pain and fart with confidence again...

Life is sweet, if a little pungent.

BlogMap.....

Get yourself a BlogMap....

The blogmap displays a local map with information of other bloggers in your area. Have a scan down the right of this blog to see what one looks like.

All you need to do is find out your Geo Position and place this onto your Blogger template... a bit like this

<meta name="geo.position" content="51.3661;-0.4586">
<meta name="geo.region" content="UK">
<meta name="geo.placename" content="Weybridge">

NB: In the above example the first set of digits represents latitude separated by ";" then longitude

Then you need to goto Feedmap.net and submit your website.... they will then give you the code to display a BlogMap.

and very nice it is too...

You could also submit your Geo Position to GeoUrl who also have a position database.

Gino, full story & pics.......

I've got a lot of things I need to sort out in the next few months. Lots of contemplation is required and big changes needed.

Things have slipped over the last few years, plans have been un-planned, hopes dashed, schemes rumbled and promises broken......spirit, still intact tho'

Money is gonna be a problem in the new year as I loose my flatmate in February. Tom is going back to Warwick, at least this one gets out alive!

Overtime at work will also cease, and that's a massive loss which means I cant really afford to live here. Perhaps that's not a bad thing as the signs tell me I've overstayed my welcome in Weybridge.

It's not all doom & gloom tho'......

Diced Carrots

I finally stop lobbing my guts up.... but I'm keeping within ballistics distance of the lavvy. Even tho' I’ m sure the bilious attacks have stopped, whatever made me ill has moved deeper within me and is now racing through my large intestines like a Porsche.

So, I didn’t goto work today. Instead I slept, mostly, in-between bouts of "speaking in tongues" into the big white telephone and watching "Trisha" and the endless precession of dysfunctional leasure-wearing-baseball-hatted fuckwits trying to work out which uncle is the farther of their two-headed children...... and for a brief moment I didn’t feel like the sickest person in my living room.

Things that I wanted to buy but didnt... this week

• A bottle of Port.
• A Hair cut.
• A shovel and a bag of quick lime.
• Tickets to see Polar Express 3D at Imax

Shutting down for the (non) winter

It's been happening for years now, it gets to November and I shut down. C0me February cabin fever has set in and I'm not pleasant to be around.....

I think it's an allergy to fluorescent lights. They suck the life out of everything they touch, including me. I don't have any flooies at my gaff, but they are everywhere at work..... hanging there, bleaching my retinas and colour scheming the office back to the 70's...... throw in some Pine effect wall pannelling, the smell of damp and we're done (for).

An open letter.... to whom it may concern

As the title says, this is an open letter...... To Whom it may concern.

Of course originally it was directed at one person, but as I started I began to realise there was a pattern forming and that I was actually talking to every woman I've ever been close to....... and every future woman I'll end up being close to.

So, to save time and effort I've decided to blog it, it'll save on e-mail addresses.

I've written this e-mail a dozen times or more...... each time I've had to delete its contents.

I realised that none of it would of been useful to either of us. So I'll keep this short, and to the point.

Looking back on Sundays events has left me with a wry smile and a little bit of surprise. Once again I've let my humanity and trustworthiness of people cloud my usual pinsharp cynicism but it's a trait that I'm beginning to understand.

While the whole episode as far as I'm concerned has no real impact on the non-relationship we had it does affect the close friendship I thought we shared. While the world around me embraces a selfishness I only thought existed in Hollywood scripts I convinced myself you were different from the Camilla's** and Helen's'** that think this kind of behavior is acceptable and appropriate. I know my disappointment is something you and your friends have no regard for and in some cases will be revelled in. I'm glad to say that I'm not seen as "one of the gang".

I only hope that this way of thinking will give you comfort in years to come when people you have hurt are no longer there in those dark and lonely times.

As I've always said. You cant appreciate the good until you've had the bad. This whole experience can only enhance the good to come.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.


DD

** To most people, all names are fictitious, any resemblance to any real people is purely coincidental.... Except for Helen, who is real. She is also a drunk who regulary drives home from the pub and puts it about like a 15th Century plague outbreak..... and from what I've heard the black oozing sores are just as dangerous.

Failure...........

My daughter said something to me yesterday that had me fighting back the tears. They weren't tears of hope and joy, they weren't tears of disappointment either, they were tears of failure. A failure on my part to give her the love and stability a little girl needs when growing up...... What she said hurt me more than anything I've felt before.... and the scar it leaves will be the ugliest I'll ever have.

We were in the car, I was taking her back home and she said to me.

"I'm going to miss you Daddy...... not just tonight, but every day......... When I'm old enough to drive I'm going to buy a car and come to see you every day"

She's five years old..... she loves anything pink or with a "Barbie" logo on it, she loves colouring-in, drawing and play make-up, ponies, chips with red sauce and getting up really early in the morning to watch cartoons with me.......

but tonight she's having to think of ways to be with her Daddy....

---

Some good has come out of this, I'm now invulnerable to things that would of emotionally tore me to bits... How do I know this? I had a series of phone calls this morning, things were said and done that hit at the very core of my beliefs in love and trust. I waited for the hate and disappointment to well up..... but it didn't come, because its not important anymore..... and never will be.

Things that have bothered me this week

• Adam & Eve probably didn't have belly buttons.
• The possibility of using body hair instead of money for card games.
• There's a spider that walks on water, catches and eats fish.
• Chuckies car smells like a wet dog.
• Chuckie doesn't have a dog.

Fannying around with the camera.....

I decided to play with my camera's panoramic feature.. Unfortunately, this blog is too narrow to give it justice.... I think you'll get a bigger picture if you click on them... probably

The picture above was a test I did at work this morning

This picture is of the Wey Navigation Canal outside our offices in Weybridge

Blog is the new Black......dear

So Chuckie’s got his finger out and is now a “Blogger”. Well done…. But there’s a few things you’ll need to jazz up your bit of t’internet.

Flickr Account – It’s an image hosting site with tons & tons of features. The image badge on the right is one example of many.

Blogrolling – This is a bit of script and a website that allows you to easily add links to other websites. Very useful

SiteMeter – This gives you a visitors counter but also gives a myriad of info on who’s been visiting, where, when, why & how..

RSS Feed – Now, this is the button on websites that allows you to have a “Live Bookmark” either to a browser or a newsreader.

That’s the basics Chuckie, get these set up and you’ll be ready for some visitors.

Apparently, I'm not well.

A few weeks ago I blogged about 3 George Avenue, the place where I grew up. Just another entry in my blog, nothing special, no hidden meanings. I guess I was trying to explain my method of helping me relax, sometimes when I find myself in a quiet place without distractions I like to mentally enter a familiar place and let my memories re-create the location. Sometimes I linger in a "room" and systematically piece together as many details as my memory can spew out. I don't force it, I just think of a feature and see if any long dead memories emerge.... It can be a fun thing to do, it costs considerably less than a new Xbox game and less embarrassing than having a quick-one-off-the-wrist while waiting for a train.

Anyhow, that's all it was.... but my sister didn't think so.

She was worried when she read it, thought I was maybe depressed and was home sick.... I can assure her that I'm neither of those, I've been away from "home" since 1990 and have no wish (at the moment) to head north and the huge doses of ground-up Prozac I inject into my eyes keep the voices to a minimum.

PS: Neil, can you print off the one about the hamster and show our Susan?... it should make her laugh.... much better than getting all worked up over nowt and having our Barry call to see if I've been sectioned...yet.

Missing link.......

I’ve recently been “re-assigned” at work and now have to come to terms with having to “administer” Microsoft NT systems.

For me this is a huge step down on the evolutionary ladder. I now find myself having to talk to people who for some unexplained reason get enthusiastic about incremental backups, tape silo’s and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

If it wasn’t for my lace-up shoes my opposable thumbs would wither and die.

...dont wanna go out like Presley...

Goober
"The Hippy"
and now Dolittle.

Just three of the Miles Hunt support acts that have had the honor (and it is an honor) of being able give me instant goose pimples on hearing a song. So far it's playing in the car, on the work PC, home PC and MP3 player. bloody marvelous

Do yaself and your lugs a favor and download "Dont wanna go out like Presley" MP3 from the Dolittle site...... and while you're there, sign up for their info list.

Music drowns the evil voices rushing round my head
The music wakes me up and makes the tea and gets me out of bed
Music starts me thinking microwaves will cook my brain
And if she never calls me, the music will be there again

I take myself out for a walk, sit by the mirror have a talk
Confusion made a tart of me, don’t wanna go out like Presley

(nar nar na nar nar) Am I the only one?
(nar nar na nar nar) Like mother natureÂ’s bastard son
(nar nar na nar nar) I can hear it calling me
DonÂ’t wanna go out like Presley

Music tells the policeman its just a guilty look
The music tells the Jesus freak there’s nothing for me in his book
Music helps me to remember others are like me
And if she doesnÂ’t call today, music says just wait and see

I take myself out for a walk, sit by the mirror have a talk
Confusion made a tart of me, don’t wanna go out like Presley

(nar nar na nar nar) Am I the only one?
(nar nar na nar nar) Like mother nature’s bastard son
(nar nar na nar nar) I can hear it calling me
DonÂ’t wanna go out like Presley

.....not only that, but I think he's got a knife.

That’s Entertainment...

Not only is it a seminal Jam number but its also what you get in fistfuls when you go to a Miles Hunt gig…. And I do mean fistfuls.

If you’ve ever had the misfortune to stand next to me at a Wonder Stuff gig or a Miles Hunt gig then I can only apologise for the lithium starved, shape shifting “care in the community” gobshite just behind me who seems to think he has found the perfect environment to scream drunken gibberish either at the band or to his village idiot mate standing next to him…. It’s not someone I’ve invited, I didn’t ask him to come along thinking it would soften the voices in his head. The fucker is always there, always a different face, right fucking behind me…. Every fucking time.

It’s annoying…. It’s so annoying that all I want to do is lamp the tit and stamp on his face. But that’s not me, I’m not too keen on actual violence, I just don’t like being on the receiving end and unless the recipient is already unconscious then it’ll be me having his face stamped on. That’s why if you ever see me running and shouting “FIGHT FIGHT” you’ll know that I’ll be running AWAY and not toward the fracas…..

Anyhow, this guy was annoying, not just to me but to everyone around him. When someone asked him politely to “keep it down” his overly loyal mongrel faced sidekick would bark some guttural obscenities and lob in a threat or two for good measure. Not nice people, certainly not the type to appreciate a Miles Hunt gig. So… something had to be done, so I did something….. I had a chat to the barman..... a chat that resulted in them leaving very shortly afterwards..

Annoying fuckwits 0….. Miles Hunt Audience… 1

Result!

Zooool

There's something in my dishwasher! It's been there for a few days now.

I'm not gonna touch it. Something says I shouldn’t

It's probably food………. yeah……. food…….............probably.

It'll dissolve in time...

(oh dear…. Oh dear, oh dear oh dear…)

(it)

(has)

(a)

(face!)

Put down the cigarette and move away from the ashtray.

Smoking in public places to be banned...... Drinking on public transport to be banned.

All this and Mr Moore's post are more that responsible for the following outburst.

Hmmm. smoking eh? so, something that takes on average about 50 years to kill ya is being systematically outlawed by our caring loving government…. while in a town close to you a student is downing-in-one a £10 bottle of peppermint flavoured vodka followed closely by mindless acts of random violence and an alcoholic induced coma and death…..

But at least his clothes won’t smell (the peppermint will mask any vomit odour), he wont have added any asthma-wheezing dwarf children to the population and his sperm will still count into the millions. His neighbours food wont taste of fag-ash, coughs will be dry and infrequent and ceilings throughout the land will remain pure Dulux white ….. best of all, in his last coherent thought before succumbing to a peppermint flavoured death rattle, he’ll have a Roy Castle free conscience….

I’ll have to stop, all this excitement has me wheezing and my next oxygen delivery isn’t until the weekend.

Put down the receiver and move away from the phone....

Some people just don’t get it do they? You know, that mental line drawn in the sand where sanity ends and a Hitchcock thriller begins.

Some years ago after an argument with an old girlfriend, I left and went to stay at a mates gaff. I can’t really remember what I'd done to upset her, maybe I'd been whistling on a Tuesday or something but whatever it was, it was heinous enough for her to call me on my mobile phone.

After the seventh non answered call I put the phone on silent, placed it on top of the TV (I wasn’t going to miss throwing scatter cusions at Jamie Oliver for no one) and laid bets with a mate when she would get the hint and stop calling……

Needless to say, we both lost the bet as my mobile’s battery went flat on her 35^th attempt…

THIRTY FIVE…. That’s three tens and five units in pre-school money. I’m no psychologist, and I don’t have any formal mental health qualifications that would sooth the dangerously bewildered…… but I do know a loony when it drains my mobile’s battery.

The reason I’m recounting this incident is that the woman concerned has repeated the same act of madness…. Not on me of course, but on another more recent boyfriend… admittedly the bloke in question has no sense of humour, stature, or indeed the ability to shave his own gibbon like body to hide his geographically challenged upbringing.

The result is that this woman was arrested last Tuesday for harassment.

I HAVEN'T STOPPED LAUGHING SINCE

Poles apart...

Two pictures of the same electric pole seperated by 21 years.

I think there's only 2 people who know where it is.

Zimbardo has his knickers in a twist….

Some of you know that I was a participant in a televised experiment back in 2002. For those who don’t here's a quick explanation….

Back in the 1970’s a top psychology bloke devised an experiment which involved a mock up of a prison (within a university) some students as prison guards and some as prisoners. He was interested in the inequality of groups and how it all worked… … to cut a long story short, after 6 days it all had to be stopped as the guards were giving the prisoners a hard time. It’s better known as the Stanford Prison Experiment and the psychology bloke is Philip G. Zimbardo….

As you can tell, I know nothing about psychology….. being able to spell it is good enough for me.

Anyhow, because of the extreme nature of his experiment Zimbardo decided that the experiment should never be repeated again and his findings will therefore have to be gospel forever more….. which comes in really handy if you want to sell countless books on group psychology for the rest of your working life.

Whiz forward about 30 years and you get two Psychology professors who are up for a repeat of the Stanford Prison Experiment except this time they would put some safeguards in so no one got too upset or there arses sued.

This is the bit where I come in……

While surfing the BBC website looking for interesting things to watch that evening I came across a web advert for a TV program. It basically wanted people to apply to the BBC for a “Reality” type program. I applied thinking nothing of it….. Few weeks later I get a phone call asking me to pop down to the BBC and have a chat with some nice people. After many hours of filling in psycho forms & stuff I was eventually told I’d been selected as one of the 15 participants in “The Experiment”. I ended up being a prisoner….. and no, I didn’t end up in the showers with Mr Big.

It’s been four years since the TV program (BBC’s “The Experiment”, 4 one hour episodes) and not really heard a lot from anyone… until this week. I had an email from Professor Alex Haslam asking how I was. He and his colleagues have put together a few papers on the experiment and had some interesting comments from Zimbardo who seems to have got his knickers in a right twist about the whole thing. It makes for some very interesting reading, although most of the “science” is well beyond me.

Vague....

Well, I didn’t have my laptop with me did I.... and I really cant be arsed to sit on the rickety chair in front of my main PC and be creative.... So I just left it.

A lot had apparently happed in the last week, although I'm in no mood to discuss much of it right now... Lethargy… L E T H A R G Y… but I will, I guess.

So Thursday evening the bike club put on a “First On Scene” course…. I really cant be arsed to go into details… It’s not that its dull or not important, its just……. I cant be arsed, It’s a Monday you see, and I’m on call, and my heart is still missing beats every now & again…again*

I had a few tickets to go see some TV sitcom being recorded somewhere…..I’m really not with it today…. Anyhow, this TV sitcom….. written by that bloke who wrote Father Ted… I had no idea who the actors were, I cant be arsed to read the flyer, type them out and possibly put links in to other stuff they may have done…. I remember laughing at some bits……but the ache in my arse became so bad…..we were there too long…. My heart was missing the odd beat here and there…..again.

I guess I need to apologise to Pete, Kath and Pat. I just could not be arsed with it all. I’d forgotten to get cash for the pub and…. talking to people becomes the first casualty of my decent into “cant be arsed” –ness. Even though an explanation seems the thing to give, I just cant be arsed….. It’s not because I don’t care, I just cant be arsed right now

It really is as simple as that.

* apparently the quack thinks my irregular heatbeat is nothing to worry about........ it could be down to stress, too much coffee, heroine addiction or perhaps I've got NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN RUN TO THE FECKING DOCTORS WITH SOME IMAGINARY COMPLAINT...... At least, thats how he makes me feel whenever I go in there.... I could complain, but I cant be arsed.

In this place.....

You never really leave home. Physically you may get in the car, on a bus or train with ya bags packed, but mentally, you never leave.

Sometimes, when I feel the need, I mentally walk into 3 George Avenue. I time travel back to those days when I really thought my life would never change. I guess I never wanted it to change….

I can walk upto that huge green wooden gate, left hand over the press down latch, right hand on the corner of the gate ready to lift it slightly as my thumb brings the latch up. So, many, details.

Visually check how deep the puddle is next to the kitchen extension, I go down one step, around the corner to my left towards the front door.

A quick glance to the left through the window, see if I can see me mar in the kitchen…, glance to the right where the dog kennel is, if the dogs are in there, then there’s no-one at home…. then onto the front door.

Sometimes, I just stand there… mentally… knowing that this whole scene exists nowhere else except inside me, no one else can see me, no one else knows about this.

I visualise a “Matrix” style 360 degree third person spin…. The kitchen extension, the front door, bathroom window, the dog kennel, coal house. I can see it in all weathers, dry, wet, covered in 4 feet of snow…. My brothers Honda 125, on its stand flickers in and out the picture like a scene from the original “Time Machine” film

This time I won’t go inside. I’ll leave it for now. There’s a myriad of memories behind that door, every one of them a scene that has me captivated as I try to analyse and make sense of it all

The song in my head right now is Big Country’s “In This Place”….

Angelina escapes for the last time.....

Last Sunday morning, in the early hours the hamster escaped for the last time. Why the last time you ask? well, she's packed her bags and vanished. Nothing has been heard from her, search parties have been despatched, helicopters scrambled and blood hounds released.

All to no avail.... vanished.

Logically, there are only a few possibilities as to where she has gone.... She's has either found a way out of the flat (possibly through the floor to the flat downstairs or an open door) or she is slowly decomposing behind some inaccessible kitchen unit.

My money is on the later, although there's no tell-tail smell as yet.... maybe she's being mummified, who knows.

Anyhow, as a loving, caring father of a wonderful five your old I did the decent thing and lied through my teeth and said Angelina preferred the outdoors and is now living in a council approved commune somewhere in Hartlepool where sawdust is free and safe bedding rains down every evening.

So, we now have another Hamster. This one is white, called "Snowy" and is fitted with a ball & chain.

Get off my telly....

This post is influenced by a comment I received by Pete Moore about abuse from minor celebrities…

Pete said...

Lynam called you a wanker? For doing a three-point turn? Well! My estimation of the man has certainly taken a turn downhill.

I've never been sworn at by a minor celebrity.

But I do shout "fuck off you annoying twat" at the TV whenever Howard the Halifax Building Society Man appears.

So, here is a list of the personalities that over time have annoyed me for various reasons and result in things being lobbed at the telly.

Jamie Oliver: No one has ever incited me to mindless violence more than this abomination to the human race. From his first TV appearance as the Naked Chef the fat tongued burger flipper has annoyed me. His piss-pot helmet and cheap twist-and-go (to hospital) moped and banister sliding antics just distract the audience from his poor hygiene and shoddy cooking abilities. To bolster his flagging career he’s sickenly chosen Children’s schools meals to champion. He made such a song and dance about it he’s managed to take an admittedly poor service and bankrupt it as most schools have had to cancel lengthy catering contracts with huge penalty costs. “Pucker mate, lovely jubbly”

Ted Rodgers: This fat jowled presenter of the atrocious game show 321 would have me foaming at the mouth during the mid 80’s. How many times did I want to break his stumpy little fingers as he mocked the nation by showing off his ability to do the 321 finger salute….. anyhow, he’s dead now.







Denise Van Outen: Denise suffers from an acute misguided belief in her own self importance and good looks.










Ainsley Harriott: Another burger flipper…. I don’t really dislike Ainsley at all, although he is nothing more than a cook and does big-up his part but I guess that comes with the territory of someone with very little talent. What really gets on my tits is his unfeasibly large grin…. With a bit of luck, one of these days the top of his head will come off while exhibiting his basking-shark like gape.




So, who gets on your tits?

Desmond Lynam called me a......

.....WANKER

Yes, it's true... Des Lynam called me a wanker.

I was doing a three point turn in Putney, holding up the traffic (well, there was just one car waiting). When I finished the driver of the car that was waiting wound his window down and shouted "wanker" at me..... thats was Des that was.

Has any irate minor celebrities shouted obscenities at you?

The Trouble With Tribbles.....

Scatter Cushions

I personally don’t understand them. I don’t think any man understands them. What are they for?

Certainly not to aid comfort, I always end up having to lob them off the expensive sofa I’m still paying for from a previous relationship.

Scatter cushions only hinder a mans life, they eat remote controls, they adore soup and animal hairs and seem to come in colours men cant see (don’t believe me? Then try an explain Mauve to any male with a modicum of testosterone).

They multiply quicker than Carol Vorderman (remember The Trouble With Tribbles?) and even invade the bedroom where they try to become one with the pillows. Why do we put up with them? We spend hours and hours being dragged from one tedious Sofa World warehouse to the next…. Sitting on thousands of cushion-less sofas until she decides what your opinion will be and how many years debt you should go for. You wait for 3 months while your extortionately priced sofa is stapled together outta two wooden pallets and upholstered with the skin of dead dogs only to have it obscured by lumpy glow-in-the-dark soup sponges.

I have no idea where I’m going with this…… I’ll get me coat.

Latest Score: Sofa's 3 Delmonti 0

After 24 years of being abused by women I decided to opt out of the “must have a wife, child, white picket fence” idea and file it away under “Marketting Bullshit”.

It’s just that for me, it’s unobtainable… or should I say, the end game is unobtainable, you know, the “…and everyone lived happily ever after” bit.
I seem to have no problem with the getting married, joint mortgage, huge amounts of debt for soft furnishings and electrical goods part of it… That comes rather easily. The trouble usually starts with the women in my life deciding that living in a safe, secure and relatively happy lifestyle is just not enough. That’s ok, these things happen. You brush yaself off, and start again….. or do you?
How often is this supposed to happen? How many houses do you purchase? how many TV’s DVD players and sofa’s are needed before you eventually find someone who can be satisfied with their lot?

Of course, it’s not the material possessions that matter, given an infinite amount of living on the breadline most crippling debts can be paid off. What takes its toll is the emotional side of things. Eventually, you become disillusioned. Thinking that you may be trying too hard, or perhaps there’s other more intricate problems which you’re missing?….. It can seriously feck your head up.

I must of spent over 13 years trying to evaluate where I’ve gone wrong…. I mean, it must be me who’s wrong….right?

Well, the answer is….. No…. I’m not the one at fault here. I don’t shag around. I don’t smack people around, I don’t piss all my money up the wall or gamble my house away and I’ve never lost a job to the evils of drugs……

So, in the interests of sanity and the fact I can no longer sustain woman-kinds need for white goods, half the house and part ownership in the dog I’ve decided to hang my happy-sacks out to dry.

“People……. It’s been emotional”

A Fantastic thing.....

It's no secret I'm a lover of laughter. I've loved over some of the funniest people out there, but recently, I've emptied my happy sacks over Julia Davis for her creation of the BBC3 series Nighty Night.

Julia plays Jill Tyrell, an attractive 27 year old with a lust for life and a flexible spine. In reality, she's a devious, manipulative, evil passive-aggressive with one eye on the main chance and the other on Don Cole (Angus Deayton).... She's the kind of woman I have married in the past and had children with.

But for me, the most amazing part of this comedy series is that the BBC have decided to have the entire series available on line... Video On Demand (you'll need RealPlayer to watch it)

I know the BBC is not the first to do this kind of VOD, but it's free from adverts and wont cost a penny.

There's a cow bell in there somewhere......

I had an e-mail this morning, from my Brother from another Mother (Goober). It's a trip down memory lane, which can be found just south west of Amnesia Avenue if you need a point of reference

With his kind permission, I've published it below.

Minor Threat: January 1982 – September 1982

Vocals/Guitar - Alan Hunter
Lead Guitar – Stephen Forsyth
Bass – Goober
Drums – Dave Dawson

Minor Threat: Easington Collieries answer to Stiff Little Fingers, average age of the band was 14, four young lads from a mining town in the north east of England. Too young to play or rehearse in pubs and drinking places, they ended up going to the local vicar and asking to use the church hall, he couldn’t help them there so invited them to use his living room. After six weeks he lost patience with the noise, F words, broken furniture and hangers-on the band were attracting. He did however get them a back room of a rough pub called The Black Diamond; this was the nucleus for many future line ups.

Wasted Life / Stiff Little Fingers
So What / Anti Nowhere League
We Will Fuck You / The Exploited
I’m an Upstart / Angelic Upstarts
Tin Soldiers / Stiff Little Fingers
Streets of London / Anti Nowhere League
Woman / Anti Nowhere League

State Of Emergency: September 1982 – March 1983

Vocals – Alan Crawford
Guitar – Alan Hunter
Bass – Goober
Drums – John Crawford

State Of Emergency was created of two local punk bands Alan Hunter and Goober from Minor Threat and Alan and John Crawford from The Condemned, Alan and John were twins with the same tastes in punk rock. Alan and John were 18 while Alan and Goober were 15; this was there first band the pair had played gigs with and their first taste of actually writing and playing original material. I remember it was such a relief if we were trying to book a venue we would wait in the car while the older lads made the arrangements. My confidence grew in this band, I was always a shy young lad and suddenly I was looked upon as a one of the lads.

Men of Action
The Gig
I Can See Through You
Just Don’t Care
Do What They Say
State Of Emergency
D.I.Y

Executed Designs: April 1983 – December 1983

Vocals / Guitar – Stephen Forsyth
Vocals / Bass – Goober
Drums – Dave Dawson
Guest Guitar Richard Wharton (June – August)

After I left State Of Emergency in March I hooked up with the two lads (Dave and Steve) that had started the ball rolling in the first place. The only shock was these two kids had become really good and tight. I remember leaving the first rehearsal and thinking feck me if we do a gig with State Of Emergency we’ll wipe the floor with them. We went on to create some great songs that none of us will forget, and had a few good minutes of local fame. One friend called us The Young Toy Dolls; this was a great compliment for the band and began a whole new chapter in my life. I was finally playing the music I had dreamed about and was adding my own personality to it. No longer embarrassed about what others were thinking I knew we were good and started to enjoy the praise given by others.

Suicide Town
Action Man
You’re Life in My Hands
Without You
Victims of the Plague
Another World
Pollution
Black Sunday
Plastic Girl
Green as Grass

The Original State: January 1984 – May 1988

Vocals / Bass – Goober
Vocals / Guitar – Stephen Forsyth (1984 – 1986)
Guitar – Simon Wood (1986 – 1988)
Guitar – Alan Hunter (1984 – 1985)
Drums – Dave Dawson
Keys / Backing Vocals – Barry Hill (1987-1988)

The name says it all, the original line up for State Of Emergency, now mature and full of ideas and energy. Three song writers all fighting to take control, all working together as a unit my god it was no picnic. In 1985 Alan lost interest in the band because of its musical direction, you could see his heart just wasn’t in it any more.
The band narrowed to a three piece and became one of the best bands I have personally had pleasure playing with. In 1986 Steve left the band to play in a cover band called Picture Box; he was replaced by now friend of the band Simon Wood. Later that year they introduced keyboard player Barry Hill and finally had backing vocals once more. With this line up the band took on a U2 type sound and a more commercial value, Goober became full time songwriter and things went smooth for a while.

Picture in a Magazine
Blue Tears
Sunset at Dawn
Falling Angel
By The Way
Love at Third Sight
Another World
Once In a Lifetime Chance
If Only it was Love
One Day
Fools Gold
Without You
Stating the Truth
Memories of the Night Before
Black Sunday
A Day Away
Going Nowhere

Just Us: June 1989 – March 1991

Acoustic Guitar / Vocals – Dom Richardson
Vocals – Peter Hammond (1989 – 1990)
Bass / Backing Vocals – Goober
Lead Guitar – Ian Coburn (1990 – 1991)
Drums – Dave Dawson (1989 – 1990)
Drums – Paul Cairns (1990 – 1991)

A new beginning and a new chapter Just Us, after a year of not being in a band Dave and I joined up with two local musicians, both songwriters and both defined in their own right. I have never lived in anyone’s pockets as much as I did with this band; with countless rehearsals and jam sessions we never seamed to be ready or together for that matter. Not happy with the Delamitri sound I moved on in 1991 and the band split shortly after.

Living In a Mining Town
Emily
In The Poppy Fields
Candy
She’s Number One
Paranoid Alarms
Country Boy
Nursery Rhymes
Older Woman’s Experience
Love at Third Sight
No Time No Place

Combinat: June1991 – November 1992

Vocals – Ian O’Brien
Lead Guitar – John Mowbray
Rhythm Guitar – Arthur Harriman
Bass – Goober
Drums – Tom Branigan

My Final attempt at being a bass player in a band, this band (Combinat) had not only backing from a record label; it even had an independent song writer Trevor Whittaker.
Spotted as I played in Just Us, Trevor asked me to come along to a rehearsal; we soon became friends and enjoyed each others company. Being in Combinat was like being a member of The Damned, it was real fun, every one in the band worked together, laughed together and when you were having an off day people were there to lift you. Playing live was a dream come true and sometimes the journey to and from gigs was as thrilling as playing.

I Don’t Need You
Temple Town
The Calling
Part of the People
Love Vision
Don’t Be a Stranger

Goober: January 1999 – December 2001

Acoustic Guitar / Vocals – Goober
Acoustic Guitar / Vocals – Keith Small (May 1999 – December 2001)

During my seven years away from the music scene I never really gave up the song writing, I would only write a song every couple of months, but family life and work had made the music side of me take a back seat. That was until the summer of 1998 when drummer and best friend Dave Dawson invited me to a Miles Hunt gig at Ronnie Scott’s in Birmingham. I watched with open mouth as Miles and Malc strutted their stuff and made two acoustic guitars sound like a full band, the next morning over breakfast I knew what Dave was about to say. Sure enough he asked if I had any new material and when I gave him the answer he set the wheels in motion. A recording Studio in Epsom was booked for the January and I had plenty of time to iron out the creases, an attempt to get our long time friend Simon Wood was tried but to no avail.
Eventually I did it solo, the result an eight track cd called “never loved bingo” a while after its release a work friend became very interested in my songs (Keith Small) after a few jam sessions we decided to work as a duo. Keith would appear at one gig and then I’d be solo the next, I enjoyed my time working with Keith, we had some great fun and ideas together. In late 2001 Keith decided to pursue a career in cad cam engineering, I eventually lost my faith in the music business. It seams it’s you look like, not what you sound like, these days and I have no chance if that’s the rules. I now work for a vehicle movement company, and live a happy family life. I can still remember the good and bad times as my songs always expressed, so thanks for the memories Goober.

The Truth
Painted Smile
Footsteps
Time, Space, Interface
Pain on the Inside
Celebrate Tonight
You Are Wonderful
Ten Years and Me
Hindsight
Déjà vu
The Brother You Never Had
Lying In Need
Memories With Affection
What’s Your Name Today?
Begin Again
Believe me
Self
Also Ran
Chances Are
Rant and Rhyme
Seeing Stars
Need To Know
Hand On Heart
Vicious Circle
29th Of Never
Someone To Hold
Writing On The Wall
Catch 42
When I Call Your Name
The Haunting Of Another man
Been Here Before

5k rig at my funeral...please.

Funerals are so depressing, awkward and sometimes bloody inconvenient..... but unfortunately, inevitable... even for those non-smokers who seem to think they are immortal.

I've been to a few funerals... and knowing the person who has passed away they never seem to get the kind of music they would of wanted... And what makes it worse is the appalling quality of the sound system being used. No one is to blame of course, not the family, not their friends, not the Church or the Crematorium, it's just the way it is.

So no flowers for me, put it towards the rental of a 5k rig to be installed at the Crematorium..



...and the music? well, as long as Mr Blue Sky by ELO is played at least once I can safely let Goober pick the rest.... he knows like no one else.

Petrol ban for wearing a hat...

A recent report by MCN suggests that in future all motorcyclists will have to remove their helmets if they wish to purchase petrol…..The reason for this? Well, according to BOSS it’s so the cashiers can tell if they are over 16 or not..

Fat hairy knackers is what I say to that. There’s no way I’m gonna take the time to remove my helmet just so some illegal asylum seeker can see if I’m old enough to buy fireworks yet.

Power Ranger

If you came across me while I’m on my bike, dressed up in leathers like a Power Ranger , sitting on a 10k hyper sports bike would it seriously cross your mind if was old enough to legally shag your sister? No, you wouldn’t. I’ve a myriad of ways to confirm my age and identity: credit cards (you need to be 18 to own one), driving licence (17 years old to own one), blockbusters card and even a membership card to the local sex shop (and I havnt even begun to mention all the noises, grunts & groans I make while getting on and off the bike)…. But somehow this just isn’t enough to pay for a tank full of juice.

Quadrophenia

My solution is simple, if they allow me to fill the bike up (which they always do) and they start treating me like I’ve just been released into the community from a maximum security facility then I’ll simply tell them if they want paying for the petrol they can bill me at my home address as I slip my name & contact details under their re-enforced bullet proof window.

Today’s biker is generally middle class with more disposable cash than a Columbian drug runner, so why treat us like extras from Quadrophenia?

Bacon Slicer.....

And while I’m on the subject of human mutilation why are we still letting people get away with slicing into a boy child’s banjo in the name of religion?

What the hell is wrong with these people? As if having a child isn’t fraught with enough worries some people take it upon themselves to have some witch doctor butcher a perfectly healthy male child. They even have a party to mark the fact!

I am of course talking about Circumcision or as I like to call it Grievous Bodily Harm (GBH).

I will accept that there are legitimate reasons for being circumcised….. Phimosis for one (the roll neck of ya jumper is too tight and you cant get it over ya head), and possibly freak accidents involving domestic pets... but that’s about it really.

Of course there are some people who say it’s a covenant with the Lord, showing that you are one of his people……. You’re having a laugh arnt you? Who voted for that one when it appeared on the agenda? Can you imagine the scene?

“OK people, to show some commitment to our Lord I think we should take a rusty knife to the old fella….. can I have a show of hands?”
“Naff off ya weirdo! Whats wrong with a tattoo, or a hairstyle?... a funny handshake even!”

Or perhaps this one…

“Well, it’s a religious thing and we’ve been doing it for centuries…” Oh, ok then, can I start burning witches at the stake again? That was a religious thing and we did it for centuries too.

….and lets not forget this old chestnut

“Men who have been circumcised are cleaner…” Eh? Whatcha mean cleaner? It’s not like I’m stirring my coffee with it! Anyway, whats wrong with washing down there every now & again? I personally use the wife’s toothbrush, it’s quick, painless and very very amusing afterwards.

Parents! What a re you thinking of? Let him choose later in life if he wants part of his cock cut off just to placate your imaginary super-being friend. Besides, letting some bloke fiddle with ya kids tackle surmounts to child abuse in my books.

If you were wondering what the "impliment" is in the graphic, it's a Winkleman Circumcision Device... Nice eh?

Hip Hip Hurrah!

Things are getting tiresome.

Over the last four days my hip has been playing up.... lots of pain and now something new....swelling, which is making it hard to do the things I like...... for example sitting down. I like sitting down, its one of those unsung pleasures you seldom hear about in the society magazines.... forget Suduko and your giant kites, gimme a comfy chair anyday.

I'd just like to take this opportunity to have a right old pop at my doctor.... actually, I dont have a doctor, I have a choice of various Loco doctors because my "named" doctor (Dr J Mengele) is forever ill or on holiday or experimenting on twins to attend to his sick and dying patients.... I digress... sorry.

Yes, my quack is a total arse. I've been diagnosed with a completely fecked hip, it's a bone on bone fight to the death and the only survivor will be everlasting pain. I know there's a fancy name for it, I've been told a thousand times but somehow the thought of the next 40 or so years racked with pain tends to push my ability to recall some Latin gobbledygook way outta my mind.

The solution is to have a new hip joint hammered into my thigh bone. Sounds interesting, but it will stop the pain (after about 12 months of recuperation that is) and I'll be able to play the piano like never before..

In the mean time, I have to wait until one of three things happen....

• 1) My thigh bone pops outta my hip joint causing massive hematoma and an outcry in the tabloids
• 2) I become old enough to have the operation but too old to remember what legs are for.
• 3) Billy Graham expels the evil spirits that inhabit my body and cause my hip to turn against me, Hallelujah, praise be..... blah blah....sexual deviance..... my office..... 10 mins...... bring some vasiline..... dont tell your mom.

Oh, I nearly forgot, if I overdose on huge amounts of Ibuprofen and Paracetamol remember its not a cry for help, its an attempt to stop the pain.

Dr Mengele has stopped me using Tramadol as he says it can be addictive!!!! Of cause its fecking addictive, it takes the bloody pain away you sackless twat!



I'm off outside to shout at passing cars...

Could I have a word?

Hi MOM
Originally uploaded by neekol.

Man alive... Sometimes I sit and wonder what the hell is going on in some peoples heads.... This is usually a good thing, cos it gives me something to blog about, to rant and rave about.... and occasionally murder.

But its a different case when the person you want to verbally abuse actually reads this blog. Usually, this would not bother me and I'd let rip anyhow... but this time there would be consequences that would cause me more hassle than its worth. So, the next section is only applicable to the arse who will remain nameless

All I can say is that you are a complete fuckwit. No "if's" or "buts". You were put on this Earth as an example to us all not to be an arse like yourself. The quicker you bugger off completely the better.

I guess if I were a real caring "friend" I would pull you to one side and explain where you are going wrong, but feck that, I'm gonna sit back and watch your whole world collapse around your cloth ears... And to be perfectly honest, you bloody well deserve it......

Next time you make a decision which involves any kind of human involvement, try looking up the word empathy first....... you ignorant, selfish mong.

Close the Windows! Turn the lights out.... RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!

There are a few things in life I’m not very good with. Most I can avoid, some I can tolerate for a short period of time, and others I tend to either marry or decorate and furnish their homes with various electrical goods.

One thing I cannot avoid, or escape from is the common Crane Fly (or Daddy Long Legs)… Lets get one thing straight from the off, I’m shit scared of them…. There I said it…There’s no real reason, it’s irrational and I should be setting a better example to my daughter… but those spindly little gits really do gimme the heebie-jeebies.

So, the Crane Fly is no more than a flying spider (too many legs for such a small body… it’s just plain greedy…. and what’s with all those eyes?. It’s just not right), nothing on this planet could frighten me more than a Crane Fly (escaped Hamsters packing heat come close).

Even so, I do think nature dealt a duff hand to the bastard, all those legs and it cant run. Its got the navigational skills of Mark Thatcher and a defence mechanism that involves amputating your own appendages. It’s just bloody pointless.

They also have no idea on how to get from A to B, ten out of ten for fannying about tho’… well that’s not strictly true, for example, if I enter a room they just home in on me….. not like a dart or an arrow, they first give the impression they are coming for me, then change direction as if not interested, I turn my back and sweet-mother-of-Jesus the spindly little shite-hawk is entangled in my hair, I’m running around like a girl (…..and usually screaming), swatting the air and hitting myself on the head. It’s not a good look. People stare….. and sometimes point….and occasionally call security.

So, if you’re in a shop this September, and you see a burly bloke screaming and doing air-karate, then don’t take the piss ‘cos it’s probably me.

Arrreeeeeaba....

I'm sweating cobs here!

I've just spent the last 90 mins running around the flat trying to capture an escaped hamster..... Feck knows how she got out, but I did find a hair clip, some chewing gum and a welcome pack from the official MacGyver Fan Club.

Anyhow, some things I learnt about catching an escaped hamster....

1. Hamsters dont come when you call them.
2. They dont react to threats and bad language
3. Wearing a Pith Helmet and desert boots dont help
4. Hamsters growl and rear up when cornered
5. No matter how hard you try, you cant get the Benny Hill Theme outta your head

I eventually ended up with a siege situation, Big Vern (the hamster was briefly renamed for the duration) was holed up behind the telly blocked in by a very large storage cabinet and several copies of Motorcycle news..... One way in and only one way out..... It would be a battle of wills.

No doubt Big Vern was tooled up and would be ready for a fight, there was no way he was gonna do bird again and I had to act quickly. First , I needed protection.... Motorcycle helmet and gloves, perfect. Now I needed some kinda weapon. Tear gas wasn’t an option and that vial of Rohypol was useless without a three litre bottle of White Lightning, the off-licence would be shut by now anyway. In the end I opted for half a can of pressurised Air-Duster I had left after a recent PC fix and Toms' towel from the airing cupboard...... I was now set.

As I could not see Big Vern directly I thought about having a phone passed over the magazines to allow us to communicate, as least this way I could talk Vern into coming out and he could ask for a Big Mac and fries and a fast get-away car.

Tem minutes into the siege I heard shots being fired, a woman screamed and Carter ducked behind the Cortina. With the reflexes of a cat Regan lunged toward the open door..... It was then my attention reverted back to my escaped hamster and I'd have to leave The Sweeney which was showing on UKGold for another time.... Shame really, I'd never seen that episode before.

Everything had gone quiet behind the TV, maybe Big Vern had fallen asleep? I decided to check. It was a tense moment, for all I knew Big Vern could be just around the leg of the telly, waiting… I took no chances, with my shaving mirror selotaped to a wooden spoon I slowly edged forward, my heart thumping in my throat.. I felt vulnerable…. I lowered the helmets visor.

I could see Big Vern, his back to my field of vision….. licking himself. Now was my chance, I could take him by surprise. Quickly I reached around and blasted him with the Air-Duster from point blank range. I scored a direct hit, Vern spun round, the shock of the Air-Duster lifting him in the air. It was like a scene from The Matrix. As the adrenalin took hold he lost control of his bowels and took off for the exit. The air was filled with the stench of Thai Chicken as I still hadn’t taken last nights curry down to the bins but it didn’t seem to bother Vern. Blinded by what must be sheer terror he fled into Toms’ perfectly positioned towel…… Vern would soon be back in the big-house, banged up in solitary with loss of privileges and little chance of parole.

Epilog….

As I sat at the table waiting for one of Sam’s exquisite culinary delights I began to explain to Lt Frank Monahan how Jefferies had made a schoolboy error and misjudged the amount of peroxide he injected in Ms Davies’s thorax. Just then some totty half my age walked in and inferred we should hurry if we were to spend the rest of the weekend shacked up in some cheap hotel where she takes it up the garry and squirts like a fire hydrant on a hot summers day.

Everyone laughed and we all agreed I was the best Medical Examiner working for the D.A…… After that we all faded to black.

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Explain my doodle

Doodle
Originally uploaded by Delmonti.

I wrote this on my desk (IBM don't supply post-it-pads anymore, they are too expensive.... and would probably cause the downfall of this great blue chip company).

I was on the phone to the helpless desk about one of my accounts being made inactive which in turn flagged me as a "delinquent"** to my boss. I needed this to be rectified before someone of authority sucked my eyeballs out and replaced them with hot toffee apples.

While on the phone my subconscious wrote a cryptic message on my desk in pencil then scurried off in search of sticky-backed-plastic and a naive harbour master.

Could this be the answer I've been searching for?

Could it simply be random daubings?

Could you pass me my Lithium?


** Delinquent - Past due; not paid at the scheduled time; "an overdue instalment"; "a delinquent account"