Tuesday, November 24, 2009
THE PIRATE SKETCH
Friday, November 13, 2009
The van - a mighty 2 litre Bedford CF2 in British racing green - was situated in Dover, so I decided to pay a visit to the mighty Tafkass in Folkestone on the way. Buoyed by my good fortune at finding a coach ticket from Plymouth to Folkestone for the paltry sum of £14, I set off on Tuesday morning in good spirits. And the good spirits continued upon my arrival in Folkestone, as we once again raped Taf's whisky collection.
Following a hearty vegetarian breakfast with the Ladies & Gentlemen of the road in Folkestone's finest Wetherspoons, we made our way to my new van. After an emotional goodbye, Taf dropped me off and I picked up my new purchase - the Baron. (so called as I will paint him red and he's empty inside).
Apart from reverse gear being where 1st gear should be (and therefore crunching the gearbox a few times on the way), my journey in the Baron was uneventful. As I reached the M25, my plan had been to drive straight home to Plymouth - but at the last minute, I suddenly decided to turn right to Ipswich instead, and make a surprise visit to my family.
Today was my birthday and it was great to spend it with my family for the first time in many years. And then finally it was time to head home - so I managed about a mile down the road before I suddenly broke down.
Oh no! The horror! For shame, to break down on my birthday! Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to also buy breakdown insurance (with my record on breaking cars and camper vans, it would be suicidal not to) so I called for help.
After the rozzers had nicely towed me off the dual carriageway (fortunately failing to see that my tax had actually run out in May - ahem), the cavalry arrived. Alas! My van was broken and he could not fix it. So he towed me back to the depot, whereupon he confirmed that I was to be towed back to Plymouth.
Down and deflated, I sat in the waiting room - another broken van. Another silly purchase. Another long journey on the back of a tow truck. Harumph. And off we set, some three hours later after I'd originally set off from my parents.
But all was not lost! The man in the van mentioned casually that my van wasn't actually broken - I'd just run out of petrol! And although we'd stuck a bit more petrol in it, the fuel pipe was just blocked with air. He'd cleared the blockage - and drove it onto the back of the tow truck. There was in fact nothing wrong with the van - he just fancied a trip to Plymouth.
Hurrah! So I saved a fair old whack in petrol home (it is a little thirsty on petrol, more thirsty than I had hoped), got back much quicker than the Baron would have done. And it doesn't need fixing.
As for the Baron - sadly, he's not quite wide enough for me to sleep in sideways, and is also a bit petrol-thirsty. So I have decided to kit him out as a proper camper van, get an MOT on him and sell him (hopefully for a considerable profit) back on Ebay.
So, all in all - I was disappointed to find out that the van wasn't really suitable for me and to break down - but all was well in the end. Let's hope that Friday the 13th is a little bit calmer than Thursday 12.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Yes alright, it's perhaps not a particularly appropriate or fitting headline for a fictional documentary on capital punishment, but I thought 'The Execution of Gary Glitter' was both thought-provoking and very well written. Most of the characters were believable and Hilton McRae was simply excellent as the man himself.
I also think the decision to make it as a documentary was rather inspired - and thought the writers were careful not to take sides. There was no question of it being a vehicle to ram home their own opinions, and neither side was portrayed as right or wrong. The death penalty is without doubt a moral quagmire - and the whole point of the show was to question our own attitudes to it. Indeed, it has put the topic of capital punishment firmly back in the public spotlight for the first time in years.
I think there is no more emotive subject than child rape - and on that basis, it is hard to argue for human rights for anyone that carries out such an abhorrent crime. I don't have children, but I do have nephews - and if that happened to any of them, my initial reaction would certainly be that I want to kill the person who did it. But would I? If it actually came to it? Would I actually take another person's life?
And I have to say, the honest answer is no, I wouldn't. Right at the end - if it really came to it, I wouldn't. Oh don't get me wrong, I would want them to pay for what they'd done. But, at the end of the day, I am not a monster. And I feel that if we play by the same rules as the evil we're trying to fight, then eventually we become what it is we are trying to overcome.
Ghandi once said "There are many causes that I am prepared to die for, but no causes that I am prepared to kill for".
It's not that these monsters deserve to live - it's just that we mustn't descend to their level. You don't fight evil with evil.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Oh don't get me wrong, I still have the odd urge - that quiet voice in your ear, the quietest of suggestions... And perhaps that never really leaves you, I don't know. And perhaps accepting and understanding that is what will stop me from falling over again in the future. I truly hope so. But right now, I'm just happy to have my head back and myself back.
It really is quite amazing how nicotine tries to get you to fall over in those first three weeks. It attacks on all fronts and can turn the most grounded and secure individual into a gibbering, fear-driven, clingy bundle of insecurity.
I am well and truly glad to see the back of it. Here's to a smoke-free lifetime. And if I ever end up smoking again, I will cut my own cock off.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Like a fat John Barrowman after a stroke
It was an interesting set-up; three heavyweight politicians on one side, then Nasty Nick and Bonnie Greer on the other. Personally, I thought the Beeb and DD handled it as well as they could have done. Yes, the vast majority of the programme was about the BNP - but it would have been a nonsense for it not to have been, particularly bearing in mind the publicity of the last week or so.
I was nervous beforehand; I was concerned that Nick Griffin's tub-thumping, martyr-like rhetoric, coupled with a witchhunt from the audience and the panel, would play right into the BNP's hands as the anti-establishment hero of the disaffected and disillusioned.
Instead, I think that Griffin was given the opportunity to voice his views, but that he was given a sound hiding, not just by the panelists, but by the audience too. In fact, I don't think that Griffin did that well at all. He came across as shifty, unpleasant and rather lightweight.
There will be plenty of comment made in today's papers about the debate; Hardcore BNP followers will say he was ambushed, 5 against 1. Most people will say he didn't come across very well at all. He made the odd point, but that was not a performance to 'propel the BNP into the big time'.
However, I thought the most interesting point of all came in the treatment of Griffin from the panelists; the three politicians (Jack Straw, Baroness Warsi & Chris Huhne) were aggressive in their attacks. They were all strongly worded and hard-hitting to greater and lesser effect. But I thought Bonnie Greer had the best approach to Griffin - using humour to make the point of how irrelevant and wrong his party is. And of all the panelists, I felt that he was most uncomfortable with this approach. Fake grins and laughter were all he could manage.
Because that's it, really - Nick Griffin is like a 5-year old child with ADHD - he demands attention, good or bad. To be attacked on all sides by these political heavyweights means that he is being taken seriously by the three major parties - and that falls right into his lap as the anti-politician, voice of the silent majority that he so likes to play; however, to be mocked and ridiculed means that he isn't being taken seriously. Bonnie Greer ran rings round him tonight, and he came across as a naughty schoolboy.
So that's how we should all play it - the more we keep going on about the BNP being a serious threat, the more likely it is going to be. Personally, I agree with Bonnie Greer - no matter what the BNP might think, the British people have far too much common sense. Now, Griffin, get back on the naughty step where you belong.
Friday, October 16, 2009
If I were black or asian, I'd be rounding up as many hard bastards as I could, telling them all to join. Then, every time the BNP has any kind of gathering, I would ensure that we all are present, right at the front. I would love to see Nick Griffin give one of his trademark racist speeches in front of 500 bad motherfuckers.
Actually, that really isn't that bad an idea. I have no idea how many voting members are in the BNP. But I bet if a prominent non-white personality got involved - someone like Shami Chakrabarti, for example - and say she said "Right! Everyone who is against the racism of the BNP - join the party." And say they did. And then, say, she caused a vote of no-confidence in Nick Griffin... I think it's fair to say that it would be rather interesting to say the least.
It actually just needs one person to be the focal point for this. Just one person to take a stand... Damn, I wish I were black and famous. I'd be a shoe-in for next year's Nobel Prize.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
"Christ on a bike. Is it supposed to look like that?"
"Mummy, it's winking at me."
Friday, August 21, 2009
Firstly, perhaps I need to say that I am not necessarily a pacifist. Gandhi is a hero of mine, but his policy of 'non-violence' only really works against a nation that does more or less adhere to a certain moral code. Against someone like Hitler, Stalin or even Saddam Hussein, Gandhi's actions would have been disastrous and bloody.
So I begrudgingly accept that there are times when you have to stand up and fight for what is right. Like the fight against Fascism in the 30s, which eventually led onto the Second World War, for example. That was a war that even the strongest pacifist has to concede was unavoidable.
However, is the war on Afghanistan in that category? 8 years later - 200 British deaths later - we have to look and see what have we managed to achieve there? Whenever you pay a price with the blood of your own soldiers, it is important that you know it was worth it.
And I have to say, in my humble opinion, it hasn't been.
At the start of the occupation of Afghanistan, there was a lot made about the oppressive nature of the Taliban. Particularly about their treatment of women. The removal of the Taliban was the only way to give democracy to Afghanistan, freedom to men and women throughout the country, it was said.
8 years on, it turns out that things are worse for women than it ever has been. It is now legal for a man to starve his wife if she refuses him sex. It is legal for a man to rape his wife. A woman still needs her husband's permission to work. And it is obscene that we are sending British soldiers to support that regime.
The level of self-immolation (setting themselves on fire) amongst women has never been so high as it is now. It is a sad truth that when there is no justice for women, they see no other way out than suicide.
Afghanistan is now run by Warlords, and opium production since the US occupation in 2001 has exploded. There was almost no opium produced under the Taliban, according to the UN's Drug Control Agency - now Afghanistan produces 93% of the world's opium, an increase of over 4000% by some estimates, which represents over half the country's GDP.
So what's changed? Women are still being raped, oppressed and abused. A child born in Afghanistan has a 25% chance of not making it to their fifth birthday. I would suggest for the average Afghan, not a lot has changed at all. Except now there is also war, with the poverty and destruction that brings as well as oppression.
And we have a democratic election as we speak, although it would appear that they are simply puppets of the various warlords. The names may change, but the story remains sadly the same.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
*Although that could be because I'm a big girl.
Click here to watch the video if you received this via email.
Monday, August 03, 2009
A senior source within the Conservative Party has divulged that the Tories intend to say absolutely nothing whatsoever until after next year's General Election, preferring instead to let Labour do all their work for them.
After substantial analysis, the Tory think tank Policy Exchange has isolated Gordon Brown's three major flaws: Everything he does, everything he says and the unerring ability to come out smelling of shit even when he's right.
polish a turd
However the tipping point has been the fact that once again Gordon Brown is facing the prospect of a leadership challenge - and the two main candidates are Harriet Harman and the unelected self-appointed Dark Lord of Fucking Everything, Peter Mandelson.
In an interview with the Telegraph, the head of Policy Exchange, Fisty B'Stard said:
"So let me get this right. Even if they somehow manage to prise open Gordon Brown's death grip on power and get rid of him, the alternative will be either a megalomaniac Sith Lord or a man-hater. That's like asking would I prefer to be anally raped with my own dismembered penis or brutally murdered with a clawhammer."
"However, every time David Cameron opens his mouth, he does tend to say something incalculably stupid. So we've decided it would be best for everyone if he remains utterly silent. We think that as long as we can keep his mouth completely and totally shut for the next 9 months or so, we'll be in Number 10 before you can say 'vacuous'. Obviously we don't need to worry about the Lib Dems, so with Labour as they are, hopefully we'll be a shoe-in."
"I mean, Peter Mandelson. In charge of the Labour Party. Ha ha ha ha!" he said, before adding "Aha ha ha ha ha."
Barclay men show disgraced £3bn taxpayer jobless recession profit despite shame bonus and taxpayer meltdown crunch disaster. But as bank shame anger rose to fatcat, outraged tax money say bail-out meltdown pay for risky bonus greed shame fury.
Bill, a furious angry man, say: "Fatcat. Meltdown. Taxpayer. Greedy shame fury. Make bad thing go now."
Wayne, a sad jobless, say: "No job. Me. Them money. Bonus things. Nice bonus money things. Me no things. Fury anger bonus shame."
Margaret, old woman from nice place, say: "Pensioner. Me. Old lady. Fatcat greedymen. Winter so cold time. No soup. Me go all blue. Then what?"
Vince, a politics man, say: "Appalling. Nasty, shamey greedymen. All angry pocket lining and excessive shame risk. Homes. Jobs. Billions. Crisis-crunch." He add: "China! Fred Goodwin!"
But Tom, analysing man, say: "Pensions. That's your pension. That £3bn is where your pension comes from. Stop talking now, fucknut idiots."
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Amongst other things, it has the following advice about giving CPR:
"Put your hands in the middle of the chest on the breastbone and push down as hard as you can, 100 times a minute (roughly the same rhythm as the 'ah, ah, ah' bit in the Bee Gees song Staying Alive; I'd sing it in your head, though)."
I actually can't stop laughing at that. I cannot think of a more surreal and funny situation than performing CPR on a heart attack victim, whilst singing 'Staying Alive' in a Bee Gees falsetto. On the plus side, I'm never going to forget it.
Monday, July 27, 2009
"Do you ever feel as if The Authorities are doing their damnedest to scare us all to death? First, there's swine flu" writes Lorna Martin in today's Mail.
"When raising the threat alert for swine flu from level four to five in April, Margaret Chan, head of the World Health Organisation, declared that 'all of humanity is under threat'..."
"While sadly, at the time of writing, 31 people have died in the UK after contracting the virus, as many as 29 of them had other underlying, life-threatening conditions. That means there have been as few as two deaths solely caused by the swine flu virus. Two! T. W. O. Six thousand people die from normal flu every year in Britain."
Quite so. Those dastardly, irresponsible, scaremongering 'Authorities'.
On a completely separate note, here's a headline from The Daily Mail on May 1:
'How swine flu could be a bigger threat to humanity than nuclear warfare.'
Sunday, July 26, 2009
On the news feed this evening, I noticed that one of my friends has become a fan of 'Getting Paid'. I have to say, I was somewhat flummoxed by this. It seems to suggest that 'getting paid' is a choice - as if you go to work and think "Yes, I think I'd like to get paid this month."
Which got me wondering what other fan groups there are that state the bleeding obvious. Once I managed to get past the 'Punch Babies in the Face' group, it turns out there is also a page for 'Not Being Punched in the Face', with a great picture to really put make that fact hit home. This group has over 1000 members.
However, this fan group pales into insignificance when compared with fans of 'Not Being Murdered by Clowns', which has over 44,000 members. That's twice more than the Facebook petition against knives group. Although the group for 'Rape = Not Cool' only has one member. So there you go.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
But despite that minor faux-pas, they continued to like him and many took great exception to Gibson being made Labour's scapegoat for the expenses scandal. I can't really see why he was so furious - at best his expenses claim was outside the spirit of things and at worst, downright illegal. Using taxpayers money to buy a flat for his daughter to live in for nothing, and then selling that flat to his daughter for a vastly reduced amount has got to be wrong in anyone's book. One less rotten MP has got to be a good thing and in my book, he's lucky not to be in prison.
But now we've had the by-election and Labour got hammered. Which isn't particularly unusual when it comes to a by-election, the governing party always gets trounced. But this one just feels different. More than ever it feels like a dress rehearsal for the real thing.
I particularly enjoyed Gordon Brown's reaction after the by-election "It's disappointing, but I don't think any party can take a great deal of cheer from this."
Really Gordon? Really? Because I have to say, on the news, the Tories looked quite cheerful.
Gordon Brown is making an absolute dog's arse of the Labour Party and is showing himself to be totally and utterly out of touch with pretty much everyone in the whole country. He seems to be driven by only one motive and that is to cling to power for as long as is humanly possible, no matter what. He does not possess the humility to let go and his party does not seem to possess the strength to make him. His quest of power for power's sake is shredding any credibility that Labour has left.
I can't help thinking about the General Election in under a year. Gordon Brown's death grip on power is currently making a Tory landslide a frightening inevitability. David Cameron doesn't have to do or say a damn thing between now and then - Gordon Brown is winning the election for him all on his own.
After John Major, I thought the Tories would be finished as a political force, particularly after the energy and enthusiasm of Tony Blair. It's taken them 12 years to reinvesnt themselves to the point where they are vaguely electable again. But David Cameron doesn't have the charisma of a young Tony Blair - David Cameron's main character trait, his number one reason for voter popularity is that he isn't Gordon Brown.
If the Tories get in next year, it saddens me to say you can pretty much forget about Labour as a political force for quite some time. I just hope that someone picks up the slack on the Left or we're in for some frightening times.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
My cousin LZ asked "was the cat owner a big Beatles fan, do you reckon? I can't think why else you'd name a cat 'Help'."
Personally, I think it's genius. And if ever I get another cat I'm going to call it either 'Rape' or 'Fire'.
Thanks to everyone for the lovely messages of support and for those that did have to listen to my pathetic grizzling. I think the funniest thing of all is that when I am that overtired, just like any self-respecting 6-year old boy, I do take it really seriously. Thankfully I was able to get some good advice (you know who you are!) and then slept for 14 hours solid.
On a positive note, I do feel proud that I didn't fall over on the smoking thing and that stopping smoking wasn't actually the cause at all. Although I do need to perhaps take on a little bit less than I have been doing recently. Anyway, normal service has now been resumed and I will now stop whining like a bitch.
This is how sorry and sheepish I am.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
It's often round about this time that my previous serious attempts to stop smoking have fallen down. Non-smokers may find this strange - Surely once the strongest cravings have subsided, it should be plain sailing? And yet it isn't.
Smoking is a particularly insidious and manipulative addiction, quite capable of changing a person's behaviour and character. I actually externalise my addiction into a separate entity, the 'nicotine monster'. I find this helps no end in providing a focus for any frustration or irritation I may have. And today it's being an utter shit.
You might think that withdrawal symptoms from smoking are linear - it starts strong and gradually reduces to nothing. This is not the case. You can have a month where you don't think about it at all. Then, on a rainy Tuesday in July, it attacks you from all sides without warning or provocation. Today is one of those days.
How does it make me feel? I feel both furious and yet totally vulnerable. I feel short-tempered beyond belief - and yet incredibly needy and insecure. I want to scream at the world and to cry until my eyes hurt. I want to run for 10 miles, although I'm too tired to even leave the house. I feel like someone's tied a knot inside my stomach. I want someone to hold me, stroke my hair and tell me everything will be OK.
And what's most irritating of all is that I know none of this is real. This is not real emotion. I am not an angry or insecure or needy person. So I'm trying to ignore it and wait for it to go away, albeit today with limited success. Hence why I'm writing this.
I can handle the cravings. In many ways, that feels like a bare-chested man-fight, a struggle of will, a battle between good and evil. And although it hurts, it's a good hurt. It's a battle you can see and it's a fair fight.
This is much more subtle and much more dangerous. It's like a fake depression, I guess. The nicotine monster is trying to make me feel that everything is rubbish - and that I am rubbish - so that I go back to smoking. Things that are good are undermined, it throws a veil of deceit over everything. And it takes tremendous willpower to remain positive.
Sigh. At least I know that it will go away. And it does strengthen my resolve to never smoke again. I just wish it didn't make me feel so crap. Thanks for listening.
Monday, July 20, 2009
I do however feel sorry for anyone who is pregnant after the National Childbirth Trust (the UK's biggest parenting charity) warned that "the risks of the pandemic were so great that women should delay having babies."
Expect cases of infibulation amongst white middle-class women to soar as Daily Heil-reading expectant mothers try to hold it in as long as possible.
As a man, obviously I do understand the very real danger and pain that any type of flu presents. However, if I were a pregnant woman right now I would be slightly more worried about the prospect of pushing a live human through my vagina.
After childbirth, your vagina is never quite the same again. A bit more worrying than feeling crap for a few days
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A haiku is simply a Japanese poem. And the 'monstrous psychedelic bubble exploding in my mind' is actually the name of an album I've been listening to.
Glad to have cleared that up. Normal drug-fuelled madness will be resumed shortly.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Former Chief Executive of HBOS and until recently Deputy Chairman of the FSA James Crosby and X-Files Assistant Director at the FBI, Walter Skinner. And they don't just look the same - they're both victims of hand / face superglue pranks.
I'm sure there's a joke about fucking up the country and 'the Truth is out there' or some other X-Files reference, but I can't be arsed to think one up. Just work it out for yourselves - let me know if you come up with anything half decent.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Friday, February 06, 2009
Bill Bailey's Tribute to Kraftwerk
The Wooden Spoon Game
Jimmy Saville's Jimmy Jangle
The Diet Coke and Mentos Display
The Talkative Parrot QI Advert
Robot Chicken's Five Stages of Grief
A very close second is The Japanese Silent Library Game
But the winner of I think funniest video I've ever shown on this blog is also one of the newest - yes, it's The Holy Ghost vs Drum n Bass, God is a DJ
More Awards will follow when I can be arsed to trawl through my archives. Thanks for watching!
And it got me thinking - I've now done almost 600 posts over the last two and a half years. Sometimes I've been prolific; other times I've been sporadic. But why not have a round-up so far, for those that can't be arsed to wade through nearly three years of my rantings and ravings?
A bit like those never-ending "I remember" programmes that they seem to loop on Channel 4, but with fewer references to spacehoppers and long-forgotten sweets. Talking of which - someone bought me Space Dust last week. Space Dust! Although it was called something weird like Crackle Whizz or something. But I digress - and I promised no references to sweets.
No, perhaps let's not do it like those programmes - let's do it Oscar stylie. Grand and, erm, grandiose. Probably. Let's start with Chez's Favourite Videos...
Thursday, February 05, 2009
If you get this via the email, you're going to have to go to the site to see it! www.chezguevara.com. I promise you, it is worth it.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Dear Mr Branson
REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008
I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.
Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at the hands of your corporation.
Look at this Richard. Just look at it:
I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?
You don't get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it's next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That's got to be the clue hasn't it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in:
I know it looks like a baaji but it's in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you'll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It's only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.
Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what's on offer.
I'll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it's Christmas morning and you're sat their with your final present to open. It's a big one, and you know what it is. It's that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.
Only you open the present and it's not in there. It's your hamster Richard. It's your hamster in the box and it's not breathing. That's how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this:
Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking it's more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It's mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.
Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.
By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it's baffling presentation:
It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn't want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.
I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.
Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on:
I apologise for the quality of the photo, it's just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson's face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel:
Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I'd had enough. I was the hungriest I'd been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.
My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations:
Yes! It's another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.
Richard.... What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I'd done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.
So that was that Richard. I didn't eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can't imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.
As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It's just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it's knees and begging for sustenance.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
The AC Milan striker was furious claiming he had been duped into believing he was going to sign for a proper football team that had won a major trophy since he was born. Kaká said last night:
"My agent called last week and said that Manchester were interested in me. I was so excited at the thought of all those great players, the traditions, the best coach in the world, and of course Gemma Atkinson's magnificent charlies. I packed an overnight bag and we went to the airport, but as we were walking through the terminal my agent turned to me and said 'oh, in case I didn't mention, it's Manchester City.'
"I stopped dead in my tracks and said, 'are you having a laugh? Seriously, is this some big fucking joke?'. He said to me, 'don't worry, they're a really big club with loads of money. And then there's Mark Hughes'.
"I said, 'I already play for a really big club, I've got loads of money and what, in the name of God, is a 'Mark Hughes'?'
He added: "I walked away shouting, 'go and get me a proper deal from a proper English club that does not include the word 'City'. No Hulls, no Birminghams, and no fucking Stokes!'"
Manchester City said last night they still hoped to complete the deal if they can persuade Cristiano Ronaldo to sign for the club and act as Kaká's butler.