The Blues go green...

Project ambassador and club skipper, Jason de Vos with chairman, David Sheepshanks.






Ipswich Town Football Club has started an initiative to make itself the first ever carbon neutral football club.

With the support of main sponsor E.ON, the Defra Climate Challenge Fund, and CRed, the 'Save your energy for the Blues' carbon reduction programme aims to help tackle the issue of climate change. The season long initiative is the first project of its kind anywhere in the UK.

The scheme also aims to help the club, Ipswich Town fans and the wider Suffolk Community understand and tackle climate change through informing, challenging and changing people's attitudes.

I think this is a great scheme. Whilst people's political, emotional and even religious persuasions can change, your football club is for life. When a politician talks about green issues, no one really listens. I really hope though that this will make even the most apolitical of people stand up and take note. I hope that this scheme is the first of many, and I'm proud that the Tractor Boys are leading the field for once!

Grinning like Bonnie Langford

Some of you may know that for some considerable time I've had a bit of a crush on someone down here in Plymouth. Well tonight, we finally hit it off and it's official. I'm grinning like Bonnie Langford.

She's the nicest person I've ever met, in fact I was blown away by her the very first time I met her. It's rare that you meet someone that has that sort of impact on you, where you think 'Wow! I have GOT to get to know YOU...'

But don't worry, gentle reader, this blog will not turn into a love-in and I will still be posting the same old crap that I always do. I'm just bouncing off the ceiling, it's nearly 2 in the morning and I had to share it with someone before I explode.

Don't forget to change your Clocks...

I've just set mine for Norfolk time - 5 past Norwich.

Jimmy Jangle

This is quite simply genius, by those clever chaps over at Rathergood.com. You'll be singing this all day.

Hell hath no fury..

You've got to feel sorry for Stefan Postma. A ditched girlfriend has posted a homemade sex video of the ex-Aston Villa goalkeeper on the internet. But not just any old video... In the video, he is shown being 'pleasured' by the girl with a large strap-on.

She originally put the video on Ebay where he got into a bidding war with a Sunday tabloid, but he managed to outbid them and won. He thought that was the end of it, but apparently she wasn't satisfied. Unlike him, it would appear...

His agent released a statement, which raised a childish chuckle:

"This would not happen in Holland, but in England it is different. Stefan had a girlfriend who was not the right choice, but we hope it is all behind us now"

Apparently a Dutch website showing the video subsequently crashed due to overuse, while a television station was deluged with complaints after a clip was broadcast.

I've never made a video with a girl. I certainly wouldn't make one with me being buggered (not that I'm into that, you understand). Particularly not if I was famous. That is really asking for trouble.

Apparently, the player was on the brink of signing for Ipswich before the scandal hit. I am so pleased he didn't. We town fans have taken it up the arse for too long, we don't need the players doing it too.

The Girl is Mine...

Regular readers of White Spirit will have heard the quite fantastic Richard Cheese doing his unique swing rendition of Slipknot's People Equal Shit. That was hilarious in itself, but I have a new favourite Richard Cheese song. He has done a rendition of Michael Jackson's The Girl is Mine. A duet with a very, very special guest...

More secrets of the Royals.

new portrait of Queen Elizabeth, currently in the Tate Modern














Great typo by Reuters a couple of days ago... A rather dull story about bees was brought to life by a rather overzealous spellchecker. I quote:

"With its highly evolved social structure of tens of thousands of worker bees commanded by Queen Elizabeth, the honey bee genome could also improve the search for genes linked to behavior" (I wish the Americans would learn to spell).

It goes on to finally explain the reason why the Queen has ruled for so long:

"Queen Elizabeth has 10 times the lifespan of workers and lays 2,000 eggs a day".

No wonder she's looking a bit tired these days.

The World's Most Stupid Criminal?

I really like this one. So a burglar decides to steal some computers from a shop, which seems like a good idea. But our master criminal decided to rob a CCTV camera shop, where he was filmed by over a dozen demonstration CCTV cameras. And unfortunately for him, the computers were bolted down.

After a while he appeared to notice that the store was filled with security cameras, because then he pulled his coat over his head. Although this devious criminal mastercut was slightly undone by the fact that he also kept going up to the cameras and staring straight into them.

His next masterstroke was executed flawlessly, as he took $250 from the cash register and hid in some nearby bushes until the police arrived. The police arrested him after a short chase, after they saw him hiding in the bushes.

I don't want to take the piss... No really, I don't

Strange goings on in New Malden, London. A family were having a lovely meal together at a Pizza restaurant when a man walked into the restaurant and threw a clear plastic bag filled with urine over the family and their table. He then walked straight out again.

Police are looking for a scruffy black male, about 5ft 6in, wearing a blue anorak and a red and white scarf, who may have a tendency to carry clear bags of urine around with him to throw at people.

Crimes Against Nature...

Just when you think you can't be shocked any more, you read a story that just makes you think again. A guy in America (where else?) is being charged with having sex with a dog. But not just any dog. With a dead dog. Think that's bad? It gets worse.

Not only was the dog dead, it had been dead for four or five days. Think that's bad? Keep reading... Not only was the dog dead and had been for four or five days, it was also in the street. In full view of a day care centre.

The day care centre had called the police to get rid of the dog, and they turned up as Mr Kuch was in full swing. So not only was he witnessed by the staff at the day care centre, he was also spotted by the rozzers too.

And incredibly, that's still not all. They caught him hiding in his girlfriend's attic (yes, he has a girlfriend, which is amazing in itself) and it turned out that the dog was his girlfriend's dog. There is no word on whether he'd been grooming the dog before the incident, though.

But it's not just dogs that are in this week's news, there's also been some 'horse'play both in the US and also here in the UK. But as ever, we Brits just lack the sexual imagination of our foreign counterparts. Ours (who had the dubious honour of being banned from every field in Britain) just had sex with the horse. The American covered himself in olive oil, rolled around in oats and then encouraged the horses to lick the oats off him. Apparently it had been a long-standing fantasy of his. Now that's imagination.

However, the most disturbing story I came across today (and I promise I haven't been googling 'animal sex and necrophilia') was the story of three young men (again in the US) who were arrested for trying to dig up a grave in order to have sex with a corpse. Now that's pretty shocking in itself, but that's not the really incredible thing. They were caught red-handed by the rozzers and they admitted exactly what they were up to. They'd even bought condoms. The most amazing thing about this story is that the sexual assault charges were droppped because there is no law in the US that outlaws necrophilia. If ever there was a real meaning to the phrase 'perverting the course of justice', this story is definitely it.

Please, somebody rescue me...

You may have noticed I've been a little quiet on the blog front recently. I've done something very, very stupid.

About 4 or 5 years ago, I bought a game for my computer called 'Championship Manager'. For those of you that don't know it, it's a football management game. Obviously I chose to be the manager of the mighty Tractor Boys, and I was rather successful. Not only did I get them promoted into the Premiership, I also won the Premiership in my 2nd season up. I did the Premiership and Champions League double the year after that. My team included Figo (back when he was good), Kluivert (ditto), van Nistelrooy, Zidane, Beckham, Nesta and various other world superstars, and we were pretty much unbeatable. Bearing in mind the real Ipswich Town were getting twatted week in, week out, it was a welcome relief from the 'real' world.

The problem was, though, it was just so fucking addictive it ended up taking over my life. I keep a record of how much business I do at work each month. If you were to put it in a graph, you could actually see on the date I bought the game that my work rate plummeted. In the end, in a moment of sanity, I actually had to force myself to throw the game away, and I'm ashamed to say that I also had to physically force myself to not buy it again.

So, recently I was in Tescos and I saw there's a new version out. And I thought hey, I'm mature now, I'm in control of my life. I can buy it, play it every now and then and it will all be ok. I won't let it take over my life again like it did last time. I can handle it.

WRONG. I've played it every night since I got it til 2am. Arse. Although I am top of the Championship and promotion is looking very likely. But it's just so fucking addictive, it's always just one more game...

If no one has heard from me by the middle of next week, can someone please come to Plymouth and prise the thing out of my fingers and smash it. Please. You'll be doing me a BIG favour.

"Stop Grieving, it's only a chicken"

Bizarre story on the BBC website about Liverpool residents laying flowers for a dead chicken. With a great quote from the local rozzers...

A Joke about Jews

Q. What language does a gay Jew speak?
A. Heblew.

Titfuck Bumble...

Regular readers will know that I am a lifelong fan of the mighty Ipswich Town. We are currently in the midst of what is commonly known as a 'transitional' season, ie we're a bit crap at the moment but will hopefully get better. At least we have now come out of administration.

And the new manager, our ex-skipper Magic Jim Magilton, has no experience as a manager and was chosen almost entirely because he is cheap. But to be fair to him, he's not doing too badly. We are currently moping around in mid-table and have had a mixed bag of results. I don't expect us to be in trouble come the end of the season, but I think there are quite a few teams better (or more consistent) than us, so I doubt we'll be going for promotion either.

Our biggest problem appears to be in defence, so it was with interest that I read in this weekend's redtops that we appear to be interested in signing one of our old boys, Newcastle centre-half Titus Bramble.

There was a time when we appeared to be the Newcastle reserve team, with many of our players being signed by ex-Ipswich legend Sir Bobby Robson. Titfuck Bumble, as he is affectionately known, was one of those, and we sold him to the toon for £6m. Apparently we would get him for £500k.

Although he is error-prone, on his day he is one of the best defenders around. I remember watching him against Inter in the Eufa Cup when he marked Christian Vieri completely out of the game. He was an absolute collosus in that game. However, I also remember him in the return leg when Vieri got a hat-trick where he was not so much collosus as calamitous. Therein lies the wonder of Mr Bumble. But I for one would be more than happy to have him back.

On a separate note, he is yet another player to suffer the curse of leaving Ipswich Town. It always happens... Players either join us or come through the ranks and play really, really well... And then when they get sold, they just do not seem to be able to play at the same level. I can think of hardly any players that have left Ipswich for so-called bigger clubs that have gone on to do well, Darren Bent being the notable exception.

In recent years, there was Matt Holland - inspirational for us, never missed a game. Bit-part player for Charlton; Kuqi - 20 goals a season for us, sold to Blackburn where he was crap, now rubbish at Palace; Bumble; Kieron Dyer - electric for us, distinctly average at the toon, when he's not injured; Darren Ambrose - scored for fun with us, could barely get a game at toon, now can't even get into the squad at Charlton; Tommy Miller - scored 20 a season for us from Midfield, can't hit a cow's arse with a banjo for Sunderland; Marcus Stewart - same as Tommy Miller, now with Yeovil. Richard Wright - future England goalkeeper with us, but left for Arsenal and now is 3rd choice keeper at Everton. And that's to name but a few.

I don't know if we are just extremely good at getting the best out of mediocre players, or whether they just miss us and pine. Mr Cobbold, when he was chairman was once asked (after a particularly bad run of results) whether Ipswich was in crisis. He replied "Crisis? The only time we have a crisis is when we run out of white wine in the boardroom". I would like to think that is perhaps part of the reason why players don't settle as well at other clubs. Ipswich has always done things the 'Ipswich Way'. We know we're a small club. A small club, with a big history. And perhaps there is a little bit less pressure, a bit more realism of what we can - and can't - achieve.

A Tale of Family Bravery

I'm in Ipswich this weekend for a wedding. I've been having a look at some old photos, and I found one of Little Zoe when she was younger. Regular readers of Smells Like White Spirit will be familiar with Little Zoe, my cousin, who did so well as guest editor when I was on holiday earlier this month.

What you won't be aware of is her bravery. Bravery that she is herself far too modest to tell. Because, dear reader, Little Zoe is called 'Little Zoe' for a reason. On account of the fact that she was born with no legs. Instead, she was born with frog-like flippers.

Her parents did their best to camouflage her unique condition, as this photo shows:


















Fortunately for her (but unfortunately for the UK Olympic swimming team), as she reached maturity, the flippers grew into proper legs and she is now more or less 'normal'. Although I haven't seen her in the much-hyped shorts, so there may still be tinges of green.

I just want to say "Little Zoe (or 'Frogger' as she is affectionately known within the family), you are an inspiration to us all.

From one extreme to another

So after a day of spectacular beauty, I then went to the other extreme and went to visit my friend Carrie in Camborne. I am of course referring to Camborne as being 'the other extreme', and not Carrie...

Camborne is a funny little place. It's deep in the heart of darkest Cornwall, and is one of Cornwall's many mining towns. World-renowned, according to their website. For what, I have no idea. Perhaps as being the punchline of a Jethro joke... But, well, Cornwall is lucky to have some of the most beautiful locations in the world. Let's just say that Camborne isn't one of them.

But I wasn't there to sight-see (luckily). I was there to PAAAAARTY! And so it was that Carrie, her friend Sarah and I decided to hit the town and moonwalk down to the Corn Exchange, which is Camborne's probably world-famous nightclub to strut our funky stuff and show those Camborne divas how it's done. And oh, did we do that.

The Camborne Siamese Twins strut their stuff








It was two quid for a double. Two quid! In a nightclub! That's my type of establishment. You can buy a round and still have change from a tenner. Amazing. Well, needless to say, with alcohol that freely available, things did get a little messy. Not only did I end up poledancing, I actually took it upon myself to convince other men to poledance too. And enough respect to the Camborne Crew, I didn't get my head stoved in; I actually managed to convince one or two do it.

If you look really carefully, you can just see the strings.







So all in all, it was one of the best nights I've had out in a long while. Yes, I had a monster hangover the next day, but damn it was worth it.

Hidden Beauty...

I found one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, no more than 15 minutes away from my house. It really is remarkable to think that this place was here all along and I never even knew. I've only lived down here for 5 years.

Picture taken from Burrator dam.









It's called Burrator Reservoir, and is simply stunning. I got out of the car and thought I was in Canada or Scotland. I actually half-expected to see a bear or wolf walking past. Remarkable to think that this is actually man-made.

It's at moments like this I really know why I live here. After years of living in cities around Europe, I never fail to be amazed at the fact that I only have to drive 10 minutes in pretty much any direction to see such stunning beauty, you know you are alive.

We walked over the dam, which is beautiful in itself. The whole dam is covered with granite, so although it's man-made, it doesn't look out of place. We found a woodland just over the dam:

Picture taken from the woodland, next to Burrator dam.






It was like walking through my childhood. I'd forgotten how a wood smells in the autumn... Picking chestnuts, beech nuts, hazelnuts... Remember puffballs? Those round mushroom things that puff a type of smoke out when you stand on them... It has probably been 15 years since I was last in a wood. I love the vibe of living in a city; but it's only when you get back to where you are from that you really feel alive.

So I now have a new mission. I'm going to go out and find what this beautiful part of the world has hidden away. If anyone wants to join me, you're more than welcome.

How do you Solve a Problem Like Korea?

Kim Jung Il? I never saw the first one. Looks like the afro'd crackpot leader of North Korea may be even more of a loon than first thought. For the platform-shoe wearing nutter, whose hobbies include huntin', shootin' and fission, might be telling porky pies about what he got up to on his school holidays.

After proudly announcing to a nervous world that they had successfully tested a nuclear weapon, it was announced today that this might not be the case after all. Why? Because apparently there is simply no trace of any radioactivity in the area. In addition, the seismic shock of the supposed test was much smaller than is usually the case with a nuclear explosion.

There are of course a number of possible explanations for this:

1) There was in fact no nuclear test. It was all just a major bluff on the part of North Korea to ensure America doesn't invade. USA! USA! USA! had no problem invading Iraq for having suspected nuclear weapons, because they knew that Saddam didn't actually have any nuclear weapons. I can pretty much guarantee that if Saddam DID actually have nuclear weapons, there would have been no invasion. Because he would have a nuclear weapon. It's simple playground politics. You don't pick on someone that can actually defend themselves, cos you might get hurt.

2) There was in fact no nuclear test. It was all just a major bluff on the part of North Korea to get the world to give them cash in order to stop their supposed nuclear program. The North Korean economy is in a pretty bad way. The last time North Korea was supposed to be embarking on a course of nuclear testing, all sorts of things were tried. Sanctions didn't work because basically the government does not give a shit about its people. Hundreds of thousands died from starvation and nothing changed. In the end, the Korean government were effectively bribed to stop testing, and this certainly worked up until recently when a certain George W Bush decided to stop that. As soon as the cash stopped, the 'testing' started again. I would certainly not put it past the Korean administration to effectively put a gun up against the head of the world for cash. Just as I wouldn't put it past the Chimp President to stop the cash in order to go after Korea.

3) There was a test, but it was so far underground that the seismic reading was muffled. However, that still doesn't explain why there is no radioactivity showing up in the area.

4) The Koreans have been sold something they believe to be plutonium, which is in fact no more than vim mixed with aspirin, a bottle of diet coke and some mentos to make it look real.

Either way, it makes the situation a little more complex than first thought... Not least because Kim Jung Il may well be playing an extremely dangerous game of bluff with an equally psychotic and trigger-happy adversary. If there is in fact some doubt as whether North Korea actually does have a nuclear capability, will Dubya decide to go in after all? I wouldn't put it past him. He went into Iraq for a lot less.

With two of the world's true looneys at loggerheads with each other, I dread to think what will happen. I suspect that Dubya will not go into Korea, if only because of the bloody nose he has got in Iraq. Because Korea might not have nuclear weapons, but they've got a hell of a lot of normal ones.

An Italian Awakening...

Just made the first set of transfers for my fantasy football team, Obi-Wan Kenobi Nil. I am disappointed thus far with my very Ipswich-like mid-table placement after I had such high hopes. It would appear the Force is not with me after all.

Nonetheless, this gives me an opportunity to ditch the deadwood and replace it with some young and hungry new blood. So I decided to do away with Lauren from the Arse, who has for some unknown reason not played this season. I've replaced him with Venus Williams from Portsmouth. Sorry, 'sensitive' Sol Campbell, I mean. I always get those two mixed up.

My dark horse in Stalteri of Tottenham turned out to be so dark, no one can find him. So he's gone, and in his place the mighty Swede, (my favourite person called Olof) Mellberg from the surprise package of the season, Aston Villa. Really goes to show that perhaps Martin O'Neill should have got the England gig, rather than second-choice, nobody's-favourite-but-the-only-one-the-FA-could-agree-on-at-least-he's-English Elvis impersonator, Steve 'Hotpants' McLaren.

So those two were easy, because simply they haven't scored any points at all and they haven't even played. So it left just one more choice to make, and I had a choice of three to drop:

1) Everyone's favourite cockney Lee 'gor blimey guvnor, strike a paki' Bowyer;
2) Neckless weirdo and sheep molester Craig 'Bell-end' Bellamy; or
3) Meeelan legend, Andriy Shevchenko.















Now, after many lengthy debates with my (Arse-supporting) nephews about Sheva being the best striker in the world, much better than Henry who has a tendency to disappear in big games, I am pretty much flummoxed at Sheva's indifferent form for Chelsea. I really did think he would bang in the goals. I know it takes time to settle... I know Chelsea do not play the same attacking style as the Rossoneri... But Drogba's banging them in for fun, and Sheva is playing with all the finesse of a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest.

But I still believe that Sheva is one of the best strikers in the world, and, as Wayne 'Help the Aged' Rooney will testify, form is temporary, class is permanent. So I've decided to stick with him for the time being and have dropped the neckless wonder, Bellamy from my team. If only because he used to play for Norwich. In his place, I've chosen Andy Johnson from Everton.

Although I'm not a great fan of Chelsea, I really do hope that Sheva does get his act together. He's always been a model professional, a Milan legend and to be honest, he's always come across as just one of football's nicest and most humble people. A class act in every sense. I just hope for my sake that his drop in form is just a short-term blip. I do suspect, though, that he never really wanted to leave Milan and that the decision was taken by his American wife.

Oh, and why is the post called an Italian Awakening? Whilst looking up an Italian word, I came across this definition on google - apparently an Italian Awakening is the act of waking someone from a deep sleep by slapping your dick on their forehead*. When Shit Sandwich comes to stay in November, I shall be sleeping with a headband.

*This is not to be confused with a schapappy, which is the act of smacking one's dick across another's face.

The Silent Library Game

I would LOVE to play this game...

Japanese Sauna Pranks

As ever, the Japanese really know how to do things to extremes... Keep watching, the end is the best!

Free Hugs

I don't know why, I just found this very moving.

A refreshing run in the Forest...

Many thanks to Carrie for this one! But this is simply great.

More adverts...

Who brought the cat?

Now that's what I call NHS Direct...

Family Fortunes

Went to my cousin Graham's wedding this weekend in Bath, and what a great day it was. It was my dad's side of the family and some of the people there I haven't seen in perhaps 6 years or so. Like all weddings, there was some very dodgy disco dancing going on. None more so than Uncle Malcolm with my sister Zoe...



But was really good to catch up with the family again. We used to meet up every boxing day, but it's been many, many years since we've done that. So it tends to be weddings or funerals when we all get together.

And the wedding itself was great. And I couldn't help but wonder if I'll ever have one of those. I'd like to think I will. But who knows what the future holds? But hopefully it won't be another 6 years before we all meet up again.

What a Burqa!

Heard a lot of talk this weekend about Jack Straw's comments on Muslim women removing the veil... I have to say, I think he is way out of line. Did Commisioner Gordon ever ask Batman to take his mask off when visiting his office? Of course he didn't. Or did Big Daddy ever make Kendo Nagasaki take off his mask? I can't help but agree with the Muslims who think it's one rule for the West and one rule for them.

Greece is the Word

Taken from the balcony of a local restaurant in Tsilivi on my new camera phone





I had the best time on holiday as Zakynthos turned out to be OK. My hotel was in Tsilivi, which is on the north of the island, and it is definitely an English resort. But there were some excellent local tavernas, and the seafood was great. Only once was I tempted by the egg and chips brigade.

The weather was fantastic, the people were friendly and it really was exactly what I needed. It took me about two days to properly wind down, to get used to the fact that I had nothing to do! But by day three I got into the groove.

It ain't a holiday without a hat









Although I am very, very glad I went now and not in the Summer. Partly because it would have been about 45 degrees. And partly because I imagine Zakynthos to be a bit on the 18-30 side. And if I want to catch crabs on the beach, I'll go to Brixham.

The ruin of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, birthplace of the Olympics.






Went to Olympia as well, which was rather cool. It's one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, so that's two I've seen now (the other being the pyramids at Giza). I think I'd like to see the other five now. One of those 'things to do before I die' things, I think.

And, just like last year when I went to Ibiza, I had some rather great revelations, although I won't go into them here. But it's amazing what you learn about yourself when you take a bit of time to quieten your mind.

Erm, no thanks...

And it's hello from me!

Oh yes, I'm back, with a bit more colour than before (or, considering I was blue when I went, perhaps a bit less) and feeling refreshed and raring to go. And may I join Captain Alliteration in saying a mighty thank you to the literally laugh out loud Little Zoe. So good, I may have to start calling her 'Medium-Sized Zoe' to befit her increasing gravitas. Which I think she'd prefer to the perhaps not so flattering but infinitely more amusing monicker of 'the purple pissing princess'. Or perhaps, more enigmatically, I might occasionally refer to her as 'Violet'. For that I have to say many, many thanks to the one in a million Aunty Helly. And you're right about the photos. Not only do I have photos of me in Rocky Horror gear, they're on my website. (About 2/3 of the way down, just after the pics of me as a witch).

I have a million and one things to do, not least check my bank balance to see what damage was done (oops!) and then I shall resume where I left off. I suspect some photos may be in order. Don't worry, no naked ones, before you all start running. Oh, and now that Little Zoe has gone, I can change the web title again. I know that would have been like water torture for her.

Well, it's goodnight from me...

The period of my guest hosting now draws to a close and with a sigh of relief, shared, I'm sure, by most of you, I hand the blog back to its rightful owner, the much-funnier Chez Guevara. Long may his witty insights and bizarre photographs of animals in fancy dress continue.

You've been a great audience, guys. Thanks for the warm welcome, and have a safe journey home. I've got some CDs on sale in the foyer.

This is Little Zoe. Over and out.

Faintly Artistic

As I walked past the selection of newspapers in the ante room at work today, I noticed the following headline in the Sun:

Lunatic Gets Into Number 10

Closer inspection revealed, to my relief, that Gordon Brown was not in fact announcing his early election as Labour Party leader.

Insert witty title here

This week, as I'm sure you're all aware, the papers have been awash with harrowing tales of the harsh realities behind recent events. We've all seen the photos, and I'm sure we've all felt the same sense of horror.

I'm talking, of course, about the parsnip declared England's ugliest vegetable in the recent nationwide contest conducted by the National Trust. Apparently, the whole shebang was designed to emphasise the unimportance of appearances. As one spokesperson puts, "This competition was designed to show that we shouldn't judge a vegetable on its looks and we should challenge the image of the cosmetically perfect and well-formed vegetables found in many of our supermarkets." I kid you not.

Personally, I think the whole thing was a fix anyway. Everyone knows England's ugliest vegetable is the Rt Hon John Reid.

The product of seven cans of Red Bull

It's 3am and I've just got home from work but I'm still buzzing, so what better way to wind down than by submitting you all to my ramblings?

I've been thinking of ways to get my revenge on dear Chez for the flagrant misuse of the apostrophe. It actually causes me physical pain to look at it, but I can't work out how to change it. Bastard.

I was thinking of posting some embarrassing photograph, perhaps from his childhood, but then I was assured by his father that no photograph in the world could embarrass Chez. After all, we are talking about a man who has a picture of himself in full Rocky Horror regalia - stockings, suspenders, red panties, the works - and he's proud of it. And we won't go into the Miss World costume. People, we are dealing with a sick mind.

It might be rather more effective, in fact, if I were to exploit my newly-instated powers and turn the website pink. I could have lovely tinkly music playing, hundreds of irritating and bandwidth-guzzling animated gifs, and I could discuss feminist issues and all things menstrual. Do you think a little manic laughter would be appropriate here? I do.

Now that's done with, I suppose I'd better talk about something with a little more substance than mere family politics. I'm a masochist, in that I voluntarily give up my spare time to work with 30 of Satan's spawn, also known as Brownies. And I was informed today in my oh-so-riveting monthly Guiding publication that the last line of the infamous Everywhere We Go song (you must remember the one if you were ever involved in the movement) - "And if you can't hear us, you must be deaf," usually 'sung' at a volume approximately fifty decibels above the volume needed to make eyeballs bleed, is to be changed as it is offensive to deaf people. I can't even begin to comment on this travesty. Will the last person to leave Britain please turn out the lights?

Hah! I've got the power!

Well, this is my first post as blogsitter for the criminally-named Smell's Like White Spirit. I shall take care of it in the proper fashion expected of blogsitters; that is to say, I'll raid the fridge, use the phone to call all my friends in Tokyo and spend all night watching movies on Sky Box Office.

I'll try to keep it in the spirit of Chez (pun very much intended, but just not very good) where possible, but it's not easy. His shoes are very difficult to fill, mainly because they're about twice my size and I wouldn't be seen dead in them anyway. I tried to get into his mindset (a scary thought) by reviving my German, but all I could remember from GCSE was, "Meine Tante hat Durchfall," and I really don't think she'd thank me for telling you that.

That's all for today, folks, and let me leave you with an important piece of advice: don't drink water. Fish have sex in it.

Due to Popular Demand...

Little Zoe in Chav-hunting regalia.











If Little Zoe is up for it, she will be taking over the reins until I return. I have emailed her my passwords... And in anticipation of a surge in grammar Nazism, I've also slightly changed the name of the blog, just to irritate her (and Shit Sandwich) until I get back.

So Little Zoe, you're in the big time now... A blog worth nearly $4,000... Treat her kindly and she will love you for it. You know, writing a blog is like making love to a beautiful woman... You turn her on... You put your log in... And think about what angle you're going to use...

Sorry, I appear to have turned into Swiss Toni. I clearly need this holiday.

"Making a cup of coffee is like making love to a beautiful woman. It's got to be hot. You've got to take your time. You've got to stir... gently and firmly. You've got to grind your beans until they squeak. And then you put in the milk."

Holiday!!

This is where I'm going on holiday. There are turtles too, although sadly none of them are of the teenage mutant ninja variety.




Oh yes, dear reader, it is with a certain degree of excitement that I write to say I will be going on holiday on Wednesday, not to return until late the following Thursday. So it may well be a whole 9 days until you get your next fix of White Spirit.

I know it's going to be hard for you. I hide heroin in the metatags, so there will be a certain amount of cold turkey for you all until I return. And as much as I'd love to spend all my week at an internet cafe writing the blog, I don't think I will. Unless something really cool happens. Or I get bored. Or it rains.

So... Based on the roaring success of Technical Monkey's guest editor spot at the Shit Sandwich, does anyone feel up to the challenge? Would YOU like the chance to take over the reins of Smells Like White Spirit while I'm away...?

Have you ever read a blog and thought 'That's rubbish. I could do much better'. Have you ever contemplated world domination, but don't know where to start? Or have you simply got way too much free time and / or a rather inflated opinion of your own self worth?

Whatever (and I don't mean that in a chav-esque manner) Chez Guevara needs you...

If you're interested, email me at AnythingyoucandoIcandobetter@chezguevara.com. Mark your email "Yes. Oh yes. This is my destiny, what I've waited my whole life for" and make sure you write before Wednesday lunch time.

How much is that Bloggie in the Window?

My blog is worth $3,951.78.
How much is your blog worth?

If anyone would like to buy White Spirit for 4 grand, please get in touch. One careful owner. Plenty of mileage left in it. Find out how much your blog is worth...

Fancy Dress for Dogs

It's all kicking off in Blackpool...

Very bizarre story today about a guy who was trying to commit suicide by jumping off Blackpool Pier. I don't know why he was, but can you imagine... It's all got too much for you. You're at your wits end. You see there is no other way to go, you really feel that it just can't get any worse... And then your rescuers arrive, and it's Lionel Blair and Alan Carr.











How would you react like that? It would either be enough to make you jump or just so surreal that it would perhaps wake you up to what the hell you are doing. Just goes to show that sometimes guardian angels come in the strangest forms.

My favourite quote from this story...

'He just kept saying he wanted to end it all,' said Blair. Then someone said it was Lionel Blair from TV and he did a double take.

And then in a separate incident, a man threatened to jump off a shop roof after arming himself with a vacuum cleaner. Police negotiators were drafted in to talk him down as he threatened to harm himself on top of the Bananarama fruit and vegetable store. After a few hours, he surrendered the vacuum cleaner but still refused to come down. Finally after 3 hours, Police talked him down.

No wonder it's the UK's top holiday destination. It's rock n roll from noon til night.

Bit less Martial, bit more Arts...

Went to my first ever Tai Chi class yesterday. I've been thinking about learning tai chi for years. But every time I've signed up for a class, it's always either been cancelled or I haven't been able to make it... I must have tried at least 6 times.

And I was quite surprised at how hard it is. I don't know why, I just assumed I'd pick it up really easily. But it's actually a lot harder than it looks. Although I did get the mild giggles halfway through when we were doing a couple of forms and I suddenly felt like we were doing a Peter Crouch-style robot dance. Try explaining that to the rather serious (but very nice) teacher.

But I've signed up for the course and I'm looking forward to it. I've always fancied a bit of martial arts. Not that I can see this being much good in a fight... Although I've never actually ever had a fight and hopefully never will. But I don't think slow motion waving of the arms will do me much good on Union Street on a Saturday night.

Get Well Soon, Hamster...

Q. What do elton john and richard hammond have in common?
A. Both have skid marks on their helmets.

Bad taste, but one I think he'd laugh at.

I really, really hope that Wee Richard Hammond is alright. I like him a lot. At least he's out of intensive care - it remains to be seen whether he will make a full recovery. I really hope that he does. Top Gear will not be the same without him. Anyone know if he actually got the record?

Friends Lost...

Writing about my experience with Bipolar Girl in the last post (which sounds like a kind of very dodgy anti-Superhero) reminded me of just how many friends I lost as a result of that relationship. It really was a 24-hour job keeping her in one piece and, well, sane that I was simply unable to keep in touch with my friends anymore.

And I miss them. Even though I do have some truly wonderful friends now, there are still old friends that I really do miss, even now. In my bedroom I have red fur stuck to one of the walls. Yes, really I do (some things never change). And on that fur I have stuck various photos taken over the years. There are a lot of my uni years.

It is truly sad that although those years were possibly the best of my life, I have lost contact with EVERYONE I went to uni with. It seems remarkable that I left uni 11 years ago. Eleven! That means I've known them for 15 years. Jesus, it seems like yesterday.

I miss Duncy Dunc, Susan and Rav the most. Dunc's Beavis laugh... Sue's yellow hair... Rav's fundamental Ravness. I'd love to catch up with what they're doing. And I'd love to know what Kilv is up to. And Chicken Leg... Kazza... Jen, Het & The Raven...

Would it be weird to see them again? Yeah, of course... Would we still get on? Indubitably. Some probably more than others. I think that with some friends a connection can transcend many years. A couple of years ago, I got back in touch with my schoolfriend Mikey G and it was like we'd never been apart, even though it had been 14 years since we'd last seen each other. I did demolish his house, though, within 5 minutes of turning up. Sorry about that.

So if anyone out there in blogland knows the whereabouts (or indeed if any of you are actually reading this!) then get in touch. It would be ace to meet up again and see what you're all up to. I'm in beautiful, sunny Devon. You're all welcome to come and stay. So long as you don't break anything.

Stephen Fry: The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive

Watched the Stephen Fry documentary on Manic Depression last night, and thought it was excellent. I didn't know until I heard about this series that he suffered from it. But hats off to him for making such a fascinating and informative documentary.

Up until recently, I only had a vague notion as to what bipolar disorder actually is, even though I have since realised that I lived with a (sadly undiagnosed) bipolar girlfriend for nearly 4 years. It was in many ways the best years of my life; it was simultaneously the worst years of my life. I wonder how different things would have been if I'd known then what I know now. When she was good, it was like walking with angels. When she was bad, it was like living with Satan.

But that's why programs like this are so important. We both thought she was just highly strung, whereas clearly she was seriously in need of help. At least once she had a full psychotic breakdown. And I am sad to say, I just simply didn't recognise it as a mental health issue. Yes, I was there for her. But I didn't realise that it was medical help she needed, rather than me trying to 'be there' 20 hours a day solid.

If I'd understood... Perhaps if I'd been more aware of what was going on... Perhaps if she'd been diagnosed... It might have made things easier to deal with for both of us. It took me years to get over her when she left.

I haven't seen her for about 7 or 8 years. I still sometimes wonder where she is, what she's up to. Last time I saw her, she was covered in bruises. Her new boyfriend was beating her up. She was returning some of the things she had stolen from me. She'd left me with debts, to the point where I was forced to live in a camper van by Putney Bridge. And yet still I felt sorry for her.

I guess I let her take advantage of me because somehow I had an intuitive feeling that despite everything it wasn't really her fault... And it turned out that it sort of wasn't. I hope that she got diagnosed. I hope that she got the help she needed. And I hope that this program educates people - sufferers and non-sufferers alike - about Manic Depression.

A Joke about Stars in their Eyes

A young man walks onto the stage of Stars in their Eyes, on crutches, with a plaster cast from his feet to his hips. Matthew Kelly Introduces him as Simon.

“It's very brave of you to come out here,” says Matthew. “Please tell the audience what happened?”

“Well” replies Simon “about a year ago, I was driving with my uncle when we had a really bad accident. Unfortunately my uncle was killed outright but I survived. I was trapped in the car for six hours before I was eventually cut free. The doctors had me in surgery for 12 hours but they couldn't save my legs.”

“That's terrible. But I see you have legs now. Are they artificial?” asks Matthew.

“No Matthew, while I was in hospital the doctors informed me that my uncle had in fact died, but that his legs were fine and with all the advances in medical science, they could graft the bottom half of his body onto mine. As you can see the operation was successful. I have been having physiotherapy for six months and hope to be walking fully again by the end of the year.”

A huge round of applause erupts from the audience. Kelly responds with:

“That's an unbelievable story. So Simon, tell us, who are you going to be tonight?”

“Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be Simon and Half-uncle”

"Flamin Galah! We're like two Dingos in a Pod"

Is what Alf Stewart would almost certainly not have said if ever he came face to face with useless ex-German and honourary Jock manager Berti Vogts.

Hogan's Ghost! A hearty "Strewth" & "Flaming Galah!" to my Aussie Readers

Yes, we really do think that all Aussies talk like Alf in Home & Away, and the worst insult you can throw at someone is that they should "rack off, ya flamin' mongrel".

Anyhoo, I was on MSN with my old friends Carla from Buenos Aires and Rahne from Oz. And I was amazed to hear that some of Rahne's school kids read this blog (which is why, dear reader, I haven't used the words 'cunt' or 'fuck' recently).

So I'd just like to say a hearty "flaming galah" to the Year 8's in, erm, Wagamamamamba school (Rahne did tell me the real name, but I've forgotten it. Sorry, I'm not the sharpest stingray tail at the bottom of the sea).

But fascinating to find out how many people are actually reading the blog, and from all over the world. As citizens of the world, I welcome you one and all.

Chicken in the Air, Deckchair up my Nose

Hooray! Hooray! I've booked a holiday! After working far too damn hard by far I've booked myself a last minute holiday next week in the Greek island of Zante. Apparently it's an Ionian island, which reminds me of my favourite Physics joke, where an atom goes to the Doctor:

"Doctor, I've lost my electron."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm positive"

Anyhoo, I'm even more chuffed with the holiday on account of the fact that it only cost £130. Which is a total bargain, when you consider that I'm going on my own. It's so irritating, having to pay single supplements when you go somewhere on your own.

It's funny. Last year I went to Ibiza on my own and it was absolutely amazing. There's something incredibly liberating about not having to worry about anyone or anything else. It was without a doubt the best holiday I've ever had.

But the looks that I would get from from people when I told them I was on my own... It was like I had two heads. And when I told them I did actually HAVE friends at home but had CHOSEN to go on my own... And that I was really enjoying it... Some people actually got offended by that. Crazy. As if I'd done it deliberately to get at them. It's amazing what some people do when faced with their own insecurities.

And as an added bonus... I booked a trip to the Turks & Caicos Islands today to go visit my friend Anna! Double hooray! And that was a bit of a bargain too... 5,000 airmiles and £185. I'm off in January. I can't wait, I've missed her like mad, there's been a big Anna-shaped hole in my life since May.

So all in all, life is looking pretty sunny today. But hopefully nowhere near as sunny as it's going to look next week.

A Joke about Poles

A Polish immigrant went to the Specsavers for an eye test. The optician showed him a card with the letters:

'C Z W I X N O S T A C Z.'

"Can you read this?" the optician asked.

"Read it?" the Pole replied, "I know the guy."

A joke about the Lottery

A woman came home, screeching her car into the driveway, and ran into the house. She slammed the door and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Honey, pack your bags. I won the lottery!" The husband said, "Oh my God! What should I pack, beach stuff or mountain stuff?" "Doesn't matter," she said. "Just get out."

A joke about Bondage

One day, a man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in a very sexy nightie. "Tie me up," she purred, "and you can do anything you want." So he tied her up and went golfing.

Love him or hate him...

You just can't ignore ex Italy supremo, probable Mafia boss and owner of the mighty Rossoneri, Silvio Berlusconi. Here he is seen having 'fun' with a female traffic warden.

Talking of all things Italian, for a great short sketch on the differences between Italians and the rest of Europe, click here.

Liars and Charlatans of the Worst Kind...

Not much gets me cross. I'm a pretty laid-back kind of guy... But something that really gets my goat is when Big Business lies to you, or pretends to be something they're not.

I'm on a health drive. After years of living on crisps, chocolate and fizzy drinks, I've realised that I need something with perhaps a vitamin or two in it if I want to live to the ripe old age of 150. As mentioned on a previous post, I'm cooking my own food. But I just get so confused as to what IS actually healthy. So I rely on people like Tescos and the like to help me. But there are so many pitfalls.

I'll give you an example... I'm mildly wheat-intolerant. So I decided that wouldn't it be a good idea if I had an oat-based type breakfast cereal? So off I trundle to Tescos and I bought their own-brand oat muesli. You don't get healthier than muesli, and wheat-free to boot! But I was horrified when I read the lable to see that it was actually 40% sugar.

Yes, that's not a typo... In every 100g of cereal, there is 40g of sugar. I don't even think that Frosties has that much sugar in it. I mean that is absolutely staggering. And that makes me bloody angry.

Who buys muesli? People that are trying to be healthy. When I buy 'healthy' food, is it too much that it is actually fucking healthy? It's the equivalent of raising free-range chickens, but sneaking out each night to give them all a damn good shoeing. It goes against the point of WHY you buy that product.

If you buy 'nuke food' or sausages or something like that, you know that it's going to be full of lips, elbows, eyeballs, scrotums and a million other hideous things, not to mention preservatives, e numbers and the rest. But when you decide to make a difference, you shouldn't need a fucking degree in nutritional science just to buy a breakfast that isn't going to give you diabetes in 5 years time.

I propose a Traffic Light Series for ALL food. Green for healthy, Amber for moderation and Red for unhealthy. That would make all the food manufacturers sit up and take notice. And would perhaps help the rest of us to actually notice what it is we're buying.

Giant Girl Doll

As seen on Kyklops' blog, this is a little freaky, but absolutely beautiful and compelling at the same time. However, the children sitting on her wrists will not be sleeping tonight.

Make the Pie Higher

Here is a poem made up entirely of genuine George W Bush quotes.

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER
by George W. Bush

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
and potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope, where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher! Make the pie higher!

Blog Roll...

Seems the blog phenomenon (da daaaaa da da da! Sorry. It's the Muppet Show. I have to do that whenever I use that word) is really taking off... I had no idea how many of my friends are actually blogging.

So I thought I'd take this opportunity to 'big up' the bloggers. All the bloggers are linked on the right under 'External Links'. If you want me to link to your blog, just drop me a line.

Shit Sandwich: by geetar-hoarding, ping pong God Miguelinho, an Overlord amongst Emperors. Pun-tastic and very funny.

Swing-Out: by swinging, jazz mag pin-up, Carrie. She's only just stepped into the blogosphere, so be gentle with her. But she's got a great sense of humour, so should be well worth a read once she gets some momentum going.

Tiny Realm of Glee: by the inimitable Queen of Comedy and Mother of Dennis the Time-Travelling Kitten, Harriet. A welcome return to the blogosphere for the sharp-tongued one.

Orangutan Fan: by my 18-year old cousin, future ruler of the planet and grammar nazi, Little Zoe. Intelligent, witty and my God, someone under the age of 25 that can actually spell.

OTHER NOTABLE BLOGS:

Kyklops: A Canadian living in Japan. Don't know him, but has some really interesting stuff.

Chase Me Ladies, I'm in the Cavalry: Offbeat but funny blog from English Expat.

Most controversial Goal of all time?

OK... So this is a Brazilian 3rd Division match between Santacruzense and Atletico Sorocabana. It's the 89th minute and you're 1-0 up. The ball goes out of play for a goal kick. The ball boy brings the ball back onto the pitch and kicks it nonchalantly into the goal... And the female referee awards the goal as the equalizer... Unbelievable.

Celebrity Lovechild

New West Ham signing Carlos Tevez... I can't work out whether he looks more like Mutley or more like the Incredible Hulk. Maybe the love child of both...

A Joke about Clocks

A man died and went to Heaven. As he stood in front of the Pearly Gates,he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him. He asked, "What are all those clocks?"

St. Peter answered, "Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie, the hands on your clock move."

"Oh", said the man. "Whose clock is that?"

"That's Mother Teresa's", replied St. Peter. "The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie."

Incredible", said the man. "And whose clock is that one?"

St. Peter responded, "That's Abraham Lincoln's clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abraham told only two lies in his entire life."

"Where's Blair's clock?" Asked the man.

"Blair's clock is in Jesus' office... he's using it as a ceiling fan"

9/11 - 5 years on...

Bugger. It's November already, and I missed Bonfire Night...

But seriously, I can't believe it's been 5 years already. Damn, how time flies. And how little things change...

9/11 is our generation's JFK moment, I certainly remember where I was on that day. I was living in Newquay at the time and I had blagged the day off. I was in Comet, vaguely watching all the TVs in the shop. I remember trying to work out which film they were playing because it looked ace. After about 5 minutes, I suddenly realized it was real and not a film at all. I spent the rest of the day at home, glued to the TV.

I have to admit, my initial reaction was one of excitement and delight that finally the Yanks had got a taste of their own medicine. It was only as the actual details of the event started to emerge that my initial pleasure turned to horror.

For a start, I had assumed that the terrorists would have tried to hurt as few people as possible. I assumed that the World Trade Center would have been empty, as would have been the planes. I assumed it was simply a gesture, a protest, much in the same way as the IRA used to do, when they would give coded warnings to give the Police just enough time to evacuate the area.

I was horrified that it all happened at Rush Hour, when the buildings would have been full. I was even more horrified that the planes were full. I just could not get my head around that.

Many people have questioned my admiration for Che Guevara, calling him a terrorist. In fact, some have called Che Guevara the Bin Laden of the 60s. Their enemy was certainly the same, and neither can be called a pacifist.

However, I think there is a key difference in the two. Che's targets were always military or political. I am also sure that Che valued human life and would never have tried to kill as many people as he could in the manner that Bin Laden did.

And I think for me, that was the hardest thing of all to accept... It was the fact that they quite simply tried to kill as many people as they could. It wasn't about raising awareness or protesting. It was simply end the lives of as many people as was physically possible. The time and manner chosen was for maximum loss of life. It was perhaps the first time in my life I have encountered true evil.

I grew up in the 80s, when we were all convinced that the world was going to end in a nuclear holocaust. It was the age of CND, Greenham Common and Ban the Bomb. The 90s was different, we all relaxed a bit... No one in their right mind would think about something like that, we thought. Having the bomb is actually a deterrent. If you nuke us, we'll nuke you and that sort of kept the balance. MAD, but it sort of worked...

But now I have absolutely no doubt. If they ever get their hands on it, they'll have no qualms about using it. And it scares the shit out of me, truth be told. And what do we do? Do we build bridges? Do we ask the people why are they protesting? No... we bomb the fuck out of them. The Yanks (and us) talk tough and both sides just end up digging trenches.

Bush has done more in recruiting new members for Al Qaida than Bin Laden or any other Muslim extremist. Scary but true. And you know, the scary thing is... I absolutely cannot see any way out. All I can see is more and more freedom being taken away... and both sides becoming more and more hardline. I tell you now... If we get through the next five years without a nuclear atrocity I will be amazed.

And it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck to even write that last sentence, let alone think about it.

Chez Guevara, the Naked Chef

This was me on Saturday. Those of you that know me know that the food served at Chez Guevara is not the best. Invariably, it usually involves coming home from work to a combination of crisps and chocolate, washed down with the odd fizzy drink or two.

So, it may come as a considerable surprise to hear that I have been cooking. I decided it would be good for me to start eating properly. So on Saturday I cooked enough food for a month and put it in my freezer.

So what culinary delights did I conjure up? I made an apple and butternut squash curry; I made a lentil and vegetable soup; I made a Mediterranean lentil casserole; and a vegetable and bean chilli. I even made my own vegetable stock! I now have enough food in my freezer for a month.

So tomorrow is the start of a new era for me... A period of healthiness as never seen before. I've already stopped smoking and gone vegetarian. I'm going to eat breakfast every day. I'm going to take vitamins. I'm going to stop eating crisps and chocolate and fizzy drinks. I'm even going to join a gym. You never know. Give it a year, I might even look like the photo.

Throw another Barb in the Shrimpie

I hear that Jimmy Nail has been booked to sing Crocodile Shoes at Steve Irwin's funeral. Sting was Steve's favourite, but was considered inappropriate.

Yes, all the inevitable jokes are starting to appear about Steve Irwin. Some people are getting very uptight about it, and some people find them funny. I personally think he would find it all quite funny, I know I certainly would. In fact, I think I will put it in my will that there will be a prize for the best joke at my funeral.

I must say, when I go I don't want any pomp and circumstance. I'd rather not have hymns and all that bollocks. In fact, thinking about it, I'm going to plan my funeral. I think it would be good fun to work out which songs you'll play, what messages you'll give and all that. Yup. It would be the ultimate blog!

Back from da Smoke

View from Primrose Hill. Couldn't believe this was only half a mile from Camden!



Had a great time in London. Harriet had a very successful exhibition. I got to see the Kandinsky exhibition at the Tate Modern, I got to spend a great night in my favourite bar in the whole world, Aint Nothin' But, the Blues Bar by Oxford Circus... Met some new people. Discovered Primrose Hill. All in all, a good time was had by all.

And got the black snot, which I always get in London, so I'm pleased to be back in the fresh air of Devon. I have a bit of a love / hate thing with London... Always pleased to be there, always just as pleased to leave...

Crikey Flaming Galah and all that.

Was quite surprised to hear that Aussie loon Steve Irwin has died. I half thought it was a joke, but amazingly it turned out to be true. I quite liked him. In many ways it's a miracle something like this didn't happen before. He was pretty unique in his 'poke something incredibly dangerous and probably poisonous with a large stick whilst talking very loudly' type way.

There was a great quote in the Guardian:

"It is most likely that Irwin would have preferred to have been killed by a saltwater crocodile, his favourite creature, but he would, nevertheless, have relished telling an audience about the creature which killed him, the stingray."

I think perhaps given a choice he would have preferred to have died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 90, rather than being ripped apart by a 5 metre long treetrunk with teeth. Or maybe that's just me.

And the saddest thing of all, it could all have been avoided if he'd been wearing sun tan lotion. Then he would have been protected against harmful rays.

Diet Coke and Mentos Display

For those that missed it before, this actually does work. I have tried it and it's absolutely brilliant!!

Gor Blimey Guvnor Innit

off to visit some friends in that London.







Yup, I'm off to London for a few days, so for the (very) select few that read this blog, I won't be posting any more until I get back on Thursday. I'm off to help my friend Harriet prostitute, I mean, exhibit her work at the International Jewellery Exhibition at Earls Court in that London.

Oh what the hell. She never reads this blog anyway, despite her being allegedly one of my closest friends. She's a corporate whore who sucks retail cock. There. Not that I'm bitter of course. I mean, I work hard to come up with funny and interesting stories for the blog. Is it too much to ask your closest friends to read it once in a while? Or maybe even once? In fact, I might even turn this blog into a 'let's all slag off Harriet Bedford' forum for a while, just to see if she'd notice.

Actually that's quite a good way to get people to read. I could send an email to all my friends saying next month I will be slagging you off online, unless you post meaningful comments. But I digress.

It should be lots of fun. I expect to see Mr T there and if I don't I'll be very upset. I did offer to go to the exhibition as Mr T. I think it would have saved a lot of hassle - Harry wouldn't have needed to buy cabinets or anything like that, as she could have just draped her jewellery on me and any prospective buyers could have just leafed about my person. I was even prepared to use bronzer. But somehow, she felt that it wasn't the image she was looking for. Racist.