Monday, 24 December 2007

Patron Saint of The Lads

I don't know where you stand on this whole nativity lark but I reckon Joseph is The Man by any definition. Not only did he get Mary pregnant but he got away with it, how? He blamed God. Unbelievable! This man has more front than Blackpool, Brighton and Weston-Super-Mare put together.

For the rest of the story he plays the humble carpenter, helping Mary to find some digs and so on. Are we supposed to believe he just did this out of the goodness of his heart? No guilt trip going on there then, he's just a jolly decent chap helping out the luckless Mary Mother of God. I can see how he could trick an innocent young girl; sex education wasn't widespread in those days, nor was any other sort of education. "I just have to put this in here to help the swelling. I learned it from a travelling faith healer, Chinese I think, they're very clever the Chinese". A month later the swelling finally subsided when Mary honked all over the duvet.

It's the next bit that doesn't fit, how do you get from morning sickness to virgin birth? Again, convincing the gormless Mary Mother of God is the easy bit, "errrmm... the er like holy ghost was here, and errr.. you were asleep, I tried to stop him, really, but he's like really scary and stuff. Errr...huhu, you'd better wash those sheets", "No way Joseph, they're your sheets, your mom should wash 'em", "It's your barf buttmunch, I'm gonna kick your ass", "I'm gonna kick your ass". Yes it should read like a script from Beavis and Butthead. I can see those two idiots going along with it but how did he convince the neighbours let alone anyone else? What Holy Ghost? It didn't exist until then, he just made it up to blame someone else for the Mary's condition.

That's the true miracle of Christmas, Joseph scored, blamed God and got away with it. Well good luck to him. Here we are, two thousand years later, sitting around the kitchen table drinking egg-nog because Joseph couldn't face up to his responsibility and he didn't have the balls to do a runner.

Jesus was far more likely to be Joseph's son that God's, as you can read later in The Book. Fair enough him telling the prostitute Mary Magdalene to go reform herself, but then why does she keep popping up later in the story? Is it really necessary to have a hooker* hanging around The Saviour and twelve other men who left their wives to go on a road trip? Unless it was a rugby tour*, I'd say no, the boy was clearly influenced by his old fella*.

Why isn't Joseph's story told? I can think of a few fellas who could have used his ideas. Anyway, go Joseph! Patron Saint of The Lads!


*Hooker is one of the playing positions in Rugby. Not withstanding that both types of hookers are usually required on a rubgy tour
*Old fella refers to Joseph at the same as being a metaphor for the One Eyed Trouser Snake. Well, how do you refer to the Son of God's appendage? It's not something to be taken lightly, Mary can vouch for that, I meant Magdalene not the other one**.

**It was Oedipus doing the horizontal dance with mother (now that was one fucked up individual)

Thursday, 20 December 2007

Smog Alert!

Yesterday evening we had smog alerts in downtown Brussels.

This morning it looks foggy, I suppose that must be it. But flippin' eck it's cold, -4.5! Luckily it hasn't rained for almost a week so there isn't much ice but still someone "binned it" in a rented white van, the Avenue Tervuren was backed up a good long way. I think that's the only time I've seen it like that on the way to work, it's usually blocked going the other way. But I don't go the other way.

Talking of cold fronts. The Belgians, by order of His Majesty, have finally formed a government. Sort of, it's an interim measure to last until 23rd March, thus proving once again the stupendous powers of the Belgians to "do it later". That'll just give them two and bit months to make it a full calendar year sans Government. I wonder if there's a record for this sort of thing? If any country deserves the record for doing nothing for the longest time ever, I think it should be my adoptive homeland, Belgium. I'm buggered as to why these people don't play cricket, surely to God this is one place where people have got time for series of five day tests.

It's been a slow day, the trees outside are getting whiter, the smog seems to be settling on them. There's no smog in outer space but there are other things, according to the Beeb yesterday a black hole in galaxy 3C321, 1.4 million light years away is blasting a jet of particles and radiation on to another nearby galaxy. That's worse than smog. If you want to know how many nuclear bomb equivalents it is, forget it, the universe laughs at such comparison. Any man-made nasty, compared to a jet blast from a supermassive black hole, isn't even a fart in a bag.

Talking of space, only 22 days left until the arrival of The Silver Machine, I hope it really does glide sideways through time. Either that or it has winter tyres for the trip to Baden Baden - remember that? Where the England team camped for the 2006 world cup, yes we're going there for a party the week after The Delivery. As I'm going with girlfriend I might stand better chance of scoring than England did (sorry, but I really am going to Baden-Baden, I had to use that line I might never get another chance). Anyway, that's a good line by most sports writing standards, I could have said it's known for its baths and spa's and so, like the England team, I'm looking forward to being taken to the cleaners. But there's more to it than that, there's also the famous Baden-Baden Casino where you can also spend ninety minutes or more sweating nervously like a headless chicken caught in the headlights just to walk away without even the shirt you came in.

Ok now, that's enough cheesy sports coverage for one day, go home.

Go on, bugger off!


Monday, 17 December 2007

Rock Lobster

What a week! Led Zeppelin and The Spice Girls are back!

I would've gone to see them but I went to meet some folks at the christmas market in Aachen instead. Life's like that, one mans wheat is another man's chaff, I'm even developing a taste for "glue-wine".

As it is christmas you can get your Elvis Presley Duck's here and for the more discerning shopper; Arse Face Soap, it's about time somebody invented that.

As if that isn't enough you could sign up your loved one to the Jordan Fan Club Mailing List here, just imagine the look on her face! It'll be just like that time you bought her a home brew kit.

If your relationship is beyond that phase, ie you are still together, there's plenty more giving to do: this little beauty i-Cybot can carry a drinks can and sweep the floor at the same time, finally a practical use for "science". Maybe next year they'll make one that cooks and well, does other things too.

But if you really want to get into the spirit, check out the Jesus Action Figure, it's a bargain at under ten dollars. Or, if you don't want to get into the spirit, get yourself a Devil's Action Figure from good old Amazon.

If christmas isn't your thing then you might want to check out the Osama Bin Laden Action Set, I don't know where you can buy it but I think there's no lower age limit so it's quite a flexible gift.

Finally, if you really want to go the extra mile (1.6 kilometres), you can buy an acre of land on The Moon here. I'm not sure where you go for planning permission, try The Clangers, good luck.

Happy Shopping!


Sunday, 9 December 2007

Monster Raving Christmas Curry Party

So the Seasonal Party season begins with the Brussels Bloggers Bash and not a single little green cabbage-like vegetable in sight, we went for a curried buffet instead. It wasn't planned as a statement of political correctness and I personally am not at all offended by LGC-LVs, I even eat them when it isn't, you know, "mid-winter festival".

How can the PC world sleep with themselves after spending a day spouting this nonsense? Do they really talk like this at home? I hope not. I eat sprouts all the time and I don't feel the need to explode on public transport. On top of which I've maintained a healthy grasp of all the worlds stereotypes; the circumspect, the bearded and the confessors. Actually I'm a bit hazy on the whole Protestant v Catholic bit, what's the difference? Which is the one that bans women from standing at the front and then makes the men wear dresses? What a peculiar caper, maybe I've mixed it up with a pantomine.

But that's not all, the mid-winter festival existed long before Christmas so this isn't PC-ness gone mad, it's truth. The whole Christmas thing is made up, mid-winter festival is pagan, so what now? "Year End Celebration Day" Does anyone have the slightest clue just what it is we're supposed to be celebrating now? Does it matter? Maybe this is the future, everything described by bland harmless names for things we used to care about.

That was just one of the many bit's and pieces we talked about, I won't re-tell the whole evening because I can't remember. But there was one other thing, Elaib was bit miffed about not having a fatwa issued on him (against him?). So, with it being Christmas and all I thought I could help him out, here goes:

"For the heinous crime of impersonating Eliab Harvey, taking his name in vein, and the secondary misdemeanour of mis-spelling Eliab; I hereby call on the people of Hempstead Heath to take one mighty Oak and beat the false satanic Elaib mercilessly with it until he confesses and then carry on beating him mercilessly until he's dead and again for a good long time even after he's dead. The last beating is unnecessary but that's what I've decreed, it's my fatwa and anyone who disagrees with it must be a servant of Satan and will be next to receive a good thrashing. So, you people of Hempstead Heath had better get on with it, pronto. Or you can take your time, Salman hasn't had his yet so there's no rush really. Oh and don't worry too much about the confession part, if he doesn't confess just move on to the second and third merciless beatings otherwise you'll be there all night."

I think that's fairly standard phrasing for a fatwa. Anyway, it was a splendid do, I finally got to meet some Brussels Bloggers and had a jolly good night. The do finally ended in the Joyce shortly after the knockout of Ricky Hatton. Makes a change to watch someone else fall over in the pub. Boxing is a bit taboo (horrible word) these days too isn't it? Or maybe it's just in countries that don't win.

All together now, "Onward Christian So-ho-ldiers...", oh come on it's Christmas for heaven's sake. Note to heathens (inc. self); Christmas is rightly spelt with a capital 'c', stop complaining and pull a cracker or something.

Goodnight Seattle,


Tuesday, 4 December 2007

Happy Feet

I forgot to fill in the sandwich order this morning so I had to get a sandwich from the gas station (the same one that poisoned me during the 2006 world cup). There I noticed Humo is giving away "Happy Feet" and that somehow stoked my boiler.

Anyone who is about to say "Happy Feet is one of those really clever kids films that adults can watch too", shut, the fuck, up.

I've seen Shark's Tale and Finding Nemo, these films are for children under 10, and that's all. I can understand parents enjoying these films, I expect your children dominate the TV and 90% of what you watch is aimed at children. The reality is, you have become attuned to that level. Childrens films haven't changed, you have changed, but of course you can't see it.

But it's not just parents, single people are peddling this horseshit too. But what kind of single people? Is it the same people who are suffering from the "obesety epidemic"? up to their eyes in debt and still living with their parents well into their thirties. There is a school of thought that a whole new group of society is spawning thirty something people with the mentality of teenagers. These people have never had to work for anything and so they simply don't grow up.

Well it makes perfect sense to me. The whole notion of films being multi-layered is "big daddy pants with skid marks". If it's true that films work in multi-layers like this then please send your kid's to my place and we'll watch the "Saw" films together, or Seven, Van Helsing etc. I've got a whole collection of films which are not suitable for kids which I why I know HAPPY FEET IS A FUCKING CHILDRENS FILM.

But while I'm on the subject I'll have a dig a couple of other charlatans who deserve everything they get (they get rich but that's not what I meant). Firstly, of course, JK Rowling. Author of CHILDRENS BOOKS, shit ones. Not one single original idea. There are some people, on this planet, who think JKR has a deep understanding of the Occult and Pagan Ritual. It's mainly people who don't know what the fuck they're talking about; people who's experience of the Occult is limited to The Daily Shite's horoscope section. Of course! It can only be these slow witted dunderheads who are buying "Harry Potter and The Bollocks Talking Shit Peddler" in their droves. Marketing people worked out decades ago the best way to make people buy something they don't want or need is to just keep saying to them "this is really good, you want this", that's what's happened to all you Harry Potter reading adults.

Next; Dan Brown. CHARLATAN! This brazen plagiarist had the bloody nerve to stand up in court and claim he didn't copy the entire Da Vinci story from the eighties book "The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail". Lies! Why can't he admit it? HBHG is non-fiction, he would be perfectly entitled to quote it as research for a book of fiction. Only problem is, it isn't a few paragraphs here and there, it's the entire bloody book! I laughed my hat off when I heard the Hollywood writer's strike has delayed the movie production of his next dirge. The "prequel" no less, is there anything original in his sorry horses arse of a repertoire?

Well, I'm happy now, I might take the penguin out my arse and sit down.


Friday, 30 November 2007


A short play about everyday misunderstanding's, in a pre-modernistic soap-operatic vein.

Man: What?! Divorce papers?? I thought you was kiddin! I was half cut, we dit'un even talk about it

Woman: we don't talk about nuffink, that's the problem, we never talk, you're always pissed

Man: what the fuck's that got to do with anyfink? you're more pissed than me

Woman: don't turn this on me, I wanted to make something out of it, I tried

Man: tried what? that fucking gyppo in The Lion?

Woman: you bastard! that was all lies and filthy rumours and you know it

Man: oh yeah, that's when it's your turn, you weren't so philosophical when they was talkin' about me and Ambalah

Woman: that's 'cos it was fuckin true! they wasn't rumours you cheatin' basterd!

Man: there's no talking to you, you just won't listen to anyfink I've got to say, you'd rather hear it from your skunky mates

Woman: don't bring me mates into this, at least they stand by me, and the word is "skanky" actually

Man: as long you're gettin' the rounds they stick by ya, and whose money is it that your buyin' the rounds wiv? eh?

Woman: you total basterd! I knew you'd bring it down to money, that's all it is wiv you innit? why don't you just pay me by the hour and treat me like one of your littel whore's?

Man: if I wanted to make money into an issue I wouldn't fuckin' give you any at all would I?

Woman: don't then! do you fink I can't make it wivout ya? I don't need you, typical man, you fink you can buy me? well horlicks to you Mr Man!

Man: What? Horlicks? oh Gordon Bennett! 'ave you slipped back into the fifties again?

Woman: Goodness Mr Man, you seem to be awfully perplexed, whatever can I do?

Man: stop talkin shite you cock-eyed bint! It's gunna to get me now, dash it!

Woman: oh dear, we seem to be perspiring, let's sit down and have a frank discussion

Man: Well said "the good lady" you're absolutely right as usual. What about a round of sandwiches and a jolly good cup of tea?

Woman: I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier! you put your feet up Mr Man and I'll busy myself in the kitchen.

Man: Yes, I'll put my feet up, that's what I'll do, I think this is going to work out very well

Mr Man winks at the audience and raises his elbow



I enjoyed that,


Sunday, 25 November 2007

Travel XV, A Twat in a Box

What ho! Just got back from a weekend jaunt to Hamburg. Splendid, maarvellous city. Packed with history and all sorts of life (day and night), this place could easily fill more than a weekend break, as you would expect from a big city.

Yesterday we explored the huge port and a few other bits and pieces (Joahannes Brams Memorial, St Michel church etc) and went for dinner at Nil Restaurant. A very atmospheric little place, we were seated on a balcony, I recommend the Elk Steak, yum. Topped with a drink at a local bar, one of those spacious set-ups with sofa seating, we (girlfriend and I) finished off with a trip to St Pauli (red light district). The Reeperbahn is as much a tourist attraction as Pat Pong of Bangkok, we wandered into a huge marital aids shop (not martial arts, very subtle difference not only in spelling). It was mostly womens toys, I was given a re-assuring "you don't need that" while perusing the stamina increasing potions.

There was a tremendous seletion of gimp outfits and strange hardware in the basement, we left that more bemused than excited. The men's bit was dissapointing to say the least, an 800 euro solid rubber doll, a selection of blow up dolls and a selection of women's genitalia made of rubber in various colours. I thought to myself; I've only brought hand luggage, how will I explain this?, I don't even know what it's called "a twat in a box?". I left it.

Today we did the bus tour, as it was raining most of the day. The British influence on this city is striking, although it's more the case that the place already looked very British so the Brits took it over after the war and rebuilt it. They get credit for Hamburg being the press/media centre of Germany, well done! There was even a fish and chip shop (with vinegar) at the entrance to the railway station. I thought it would make a great picture but the lady working there had a different view. Obviously African, she charged out of the shop and grabbed my camera shouting "no pictures! no pictures!", I didn't expect that. The station was full of police officers as rival football fans arrived chanting and singing for the days game, a bit unnerving we thought. So we finished the tour and had nice (late) lunch back at the hotel before setting off back to Brussels.

We might go back in summer, I would recommend it.

I'll sleep well tonight.


Monday, 19 November 2007

Travel XIV, Ping Pong Thai Style

Well, here I am sitting in the lobby of the Royal Orchid Sheraton, Bangkok.

Only last week I was shivering in the cold Twickenham mornings wondering what I'd done wrong, when low and behold, my brother conjured up a set of golf clubs and said "here you can have these". Things picked up from there, the French railway workers went on strike so I cancelled the Paris trip and took the time to prepare for Bangkok.

It's 25-30 degrees here, I've been walking around the city in flip flops, that's one of my favourite things about hot countries. I'm going to do it again tonight. Only problem walking around here is the constant offers of strip shows and hookers. I wanted to see the Golden Palace but it closes at 5pm, I'd happily pay someone to sneak me in but that doesn't seem to be happening.

Nevertheless, as research for this bit, I went to see one of the famous shows. I don't know if these shows started out as a sex thing but today it's more of a circus. Tourists come in on buses, at least half of the audience is women (even those with headscarves and long garments - a bit off-putting frankly). There were a lot of "acts" in a one hour show, here's some:

Lady come's onto stage with a handful of ping pong balls and inserts a good few into her "jingle" while dancing in time to a local rip-off of some dance track which I vaguely recognised. Then she ejected the balls into a tall glass filled with water. One missed and bounced off the stage, she asked one of the guests to help retrieve but he refused to touch it, even when she offered a handful of tissue paper. She showed her displeasure before continuing the act.

Next, lady dances around for a bit and suddenly starts pulling a long ribbon out of her jingle. The ribbon has little bells attached to it but the really amazing thing is the length of it, she was wrapping it around four poles on the stage, I estimated it to be about 15 metres long and she was a mere strip of girl.

Similar act, a lady produces a series of dayglo things (about the size of Christmas tree decorations) attached to each other with dayglo string. This was easily as long as the previous one, incredible because of the size of the decorations.

Next lady lay on the floor and fired a "projectile", somebody shouted banana - it would have to be a small one, into the air, caught it and repeated half a dozen times.

This one will make you wince; another string pulling trick but this one had razor blades attached to the string, not just a few, I'd say 30-40. There was a group of women sitting next to the stage on the opposite side (round stage), the expressions on their faces would have made a good picture but cameras aren't allowed. Just to prove the point she then took a piece of paper and shredded it with one of the blades.

The next act was quite impressive, the lady inserted a small "blow pipe" into her jingle while her assistant launched a balloon into the air. She fired something out of the blow pipe and burst the balloon from about 2 metres away. She did that twice and then used the blow pipe to blow out candles on a cake.

Then there was the lady who took the top off a bottle of coke (the jagged metal tops), another one with metres and metres of neon ribbon, then a comedy act. This lady took some water from a small coke bottle and ejected it into another bottle, the trick being that the ejected fluid looked just like cola, it did raise a laugh.

Next, lady rolls up a sheet of A4 and inserts into jingle followed by felt tip marker pen. After much jiggling about she retrieves the paper and proudly displays the writing "welcome to Thailand". That brought a new twist to the art of sign writing and an end to the show, well the closing "act" was an erotic simulation by a couple of young ladies but no one was interested in that, people made their way out and the next bus loads came in. It was bizarrely not-erotic, all I felt was hungry and so I also left.

I wandered around and looked in at some of the street food stalls but I wasn't actually sure which were selling food and which were souvenirs, trays of brightly coloured things everywhere, I could smell food but I didn't recognise any. None of the vendors spoke English. I ended up in a Thai Restaurant (they just call them Restaurants here), sitting outside by the riverside, very nice. I'll tell you what, the chili sauce doesn't leave you wanting! I've got to bring some of that back. The restaurant is called "Sala Thai", joke for Punjabi speakers there.

Other than that there's the weirdo news typical of dictatorships. Today's Bangkok Post headline was that the Princess Royal has released a diary of her photographs of flowers taken in the Palace gardens. The second spot; "Thais Happier than at any time in Past Year", they have an actual Gross Domestic Happiness Index which is at record levels since the military coup two years ago (when they ousted Thaksin Shinawatra whose key foreign policy was to buy Liverpool FC from the proceeds of a Thai National Lottery). The GDHI is now 6.90, the maximum being 10. The reason for this happiness is that the King just came out of hospital after successful treatment for a blood clot.

One of the chaps in the office told me about the military coup. There was a general announcement that no one should go to work that day and military were posted on all street corners. That's it, children were running around and playing on the tanks, and few days later life went back to normal. There'll be an election next month but there's no rush.

I had Pad-Thai for lunch and suddenly realised why I've never liked Thai food before. Here they put heaps of chili sauce and dried spices on it, my host is a German fella and he said he couldn't handle it at first but now he's used to it, it's the only way to eat it. My main experience of Thai food was in Sydney, bland, they don't serve the spices and sauces that are supposed to go with it. I'm happy now I can say I like Thai food, I was a bit uncomfortable with that before because everyone raves about it so much.

And now, off for more Thai food (and Singha beer)

Coule of hours later:

eeeeh! I right enjoyed that, tamarind soup rocks! I had to send the port back though, you can't put ice in a Taylor's! Wait a minute, there's ping pong balls in the soup! no wonder it tastes a bit spicey!

errrmmm... okthengoodnight.


Thursday, 15 November 2007


My Great Great Grand Aunt, thrice removed, was a Fusilli in the Crimean War. It was a messy war, the Crime's were a particularly inventive and slippery people, very hard to prosecute in a civil court, almost impossible some would say.

My Great Great Grand Uncle, thrice removed, was a travelling Yogi in North Western Hindustan (India). He didn't care for war but he didn't care for much else either, marijuana grows wild in much of Hindustan so there are many travelling spiritualists and entertainers who didn't seem to get an awful lot done. In the end they had to compromise his pacifism with her buring desire to be a Fusilli.

Hence the family motto "fight pasta with pasta", we think that's it anyway, it was handed down by some chinese fellas, shortly after they invented pasta (yes, I say the Chinese invented pasta, read it again if you don't believe me). Could've been noodles too "fight noodles with noodles" or maybe it was a mistranslation of "stop throwing your noodles at me". In those days it was considered a great insult to throw a noodle at someone, much like today when Japanese people in hotels and restaurants will be offended if you offer them a tip and they will retort "don't throw your noodles at me!" only in Japanese.

When my ex-wife made pasta she usually added Garam Massala and Chillies to it and I like to put chilli sauce on my pizza. We would often reminisce about our ancestors fighting the crimean war whilst lying on a bed of nails and smoking a huge doobry.

How does lying on a bed of nails equate with spiritualisity? fair question. Well, its the masturbatory equivalent of acupunture, as soon as you lie down all your energy points are connected immediately, so of course it's all over very quickly. Not as good as the real thing but it get's you through the long winter nights. For those who are not so culturally aware, that's the difference between the Asian Superpowers, the Chinese way is driven my method and material profit, Indians focus more on the creative and sensual (I started that rumour).

I've gained over 78 kilos in the last 39 years, Gordon Bennett!


PS. does anyone know a good French teacher in the Brussels area? What about the Etterbeek commune, do they offer anything? Perhaps someone could teach me the lingo in exchange for computer related assistance or some other service?

Sunday, 11 November 2007

Doncaster Rock City

My old mate Dave built a lawnmower out of motorbike parts and I said to him "you know, if you swap the 'D' and 'v' around in your name and add 'r' it spells Vader" and he said "I've fuckin told you to stay the fuck out of my garden, and stop telling people we're mates". Ungrateful bastard, he didn't complain when I let his mom stay at my place so that he could get his end away with the woman from the post office.

One time he called me in the middle of the bloody night, apparently the woman suddenly came-on while they were at it so they had to wash the sheets afterwards. He wanted to ask his mom where the fabric conditioner was, so I took the message and said "Hang on, I'll see if I can wake her". Wasn't too tricky because she was on her hands and knees at the time chomping away at the old pork sword, I just needed to buy a few seconds to let her get her composure. I was as cool as cucumber of course.

A few days later I bumped into Dave at the pub and he was giving it the usual "how come you haven't got a girlfriend eh? what's the matter with you? you don't bat for the other side do you?" and all that, I just kept saying I was waiting for Miss Right and all that, I was thinking "'cos I'm getting free shags off your mom without all the whiney bitchy crap you have to put up with from that tart at the post office" she wanted to marry him but Dave was his own man, meaning he fancied himself more than he fancied her.

Eventually she ditched him and took up with Shane, the guy who did the karaoke on a Friday. It was shame, he on only knew "Blue Suede Shoes" and he could only do it with so much echo on the mike you couldn't tell if he was singing or having a fit. Dave was gutted but not as much his mom was. Me? I just moved on to the next town and the rock rolled on.



PS I'm in England again, going to Paris and Bangkok in a few days, I'll tell yer all about it later

Tuesday, 6 November 2007

This Sauce is OK

A short play about three evil Golf Club Presidents and barbecue sauce.

The Players:

The General. Leader of one of those foreign countries that no one hears about unless there's a flood, earthquake or war. A military dictator, obviously.

Vlad the Inhaler (he's out of his tree!). A popular leader, very successful at home but we don't like him because "he's foreign so he must be up to something".

Small Bush. The Boy-King of The Empire, some people say he's simply too young to understand what's going on around him, others say he's just simple.

Act 1. After the summer break, the evil geniuses get together around a jacuzzi in Geneva.

Small : Surprised to see you here General, I heard you were going to be electrocuted

The General : Elected you idiot, I was going to get elected but I changed my mind. There's too much risk of losing if you ask people to vote

Small : But you're not supposed to stay after two "Turns" it has to be someone else's Turn now, it's in the constipation, I read it.

The General : Nah, I declared a state of emergency, I can play as long as I like now

Small : Wish I'd thought of that

Vlad : That's your trouble, you can't think, you're a fucking idiot. What about my idea of being "Prime Minister" I can do that and still play for free.

The General : Forget it Vlad, the Boy will never work that out, he'll have to re-write the constitution and frankly I'm surprised he can write his own name.

Small : I'm not listening to you guys, last time those little yellow guys told me they had a way of scoring 100% in every electrocution. When I tried it I only got 44, then daddy and Jeb had to stay up all night and make new tickets to put in those funny little boxes.

Vlad : Like I said, you're an idiot, you don't deserve to win.

The General : Tell you what Small, I'll send some more of those blowy-uppy people over to your place then you can declare a state of emergency too.

Small : I dunno about that, it's a bit scary, I'll have to ask my dad. Why don't we just pay the membership out of our oily dollars?

The General : haaahaar, ha ha ah ah, raahaaah! love American comedy, this boy kills me, he really does

Vlad : ha! membership?? can I have extra sauce on mine? ah ha ah ha

Fade and pan left, focus on a picnic table supporting a bottle of OK Barbecue Sauce bathed in the morning dew as the sun sets in the distance and crickets cry "owzee!"

Roll Credits

Roll Debits


Well that's what I think. I'm not sure I like The General using my palindromic laugh though, and Vlad is definitely up to something with his cut down version, or is that just his accent? I can never tell with these things.

Hot Dog.


Friday, 2 November 2007

Le Constitution

The You-Are-Peeing Constitution according to John Prescott.

1. The Presidency.

There's no fuckin' way that Nancy Boy Blair is gunna be President, I'm sick of the bloody sight of him and his cheesy grin. I tell you what, I'd love to wipe that grin off his face, he's ruined t' Labour Party, whole thing's a pile of shite now and I'm glad I'm out of it, I was gunna pack it in anyway, bastard.

2. Common Foreign Policy.

'Ow can yer 'ave a Foreign Policy when yer 'aven't got a bleedin' Army? It's common sense innit? So let's start from t' beginnin'. Military Service for everyone at 18 years old, except girls and puffs obviously, we won't need them anymore 'cos we've got more people to choose from. Then we'll build a massive fuck-off army and park it on t' Russian border, how do like that idea Igor? whatever your fuckin' name is.

While we've got the army we might as well invade Norway and Switzerland, they've been mincin' around too long now, if the Brits can sign-up then so can you.

3. Qualified Majority Voting.

Now that there's 27 countries we'll get nowt done if everyone has to agree all t' time, either that or we'll only pass watered down useless laws like American beer, fucking gnat's piss. But we want a strong union with a strong leader, he should be able to over-rule "certain" cuntries (that's deliberate 'cos you know who I'm talking about) if he don't like 'em and it's for the greater good. Someone who's 'ard, maybe an ex-boxer who isn't scared to punch some fuckin' hooligan in the eye even when it's on tv and he's wearing his best Armani suit.

4. Language.

You see how I've wrote title of t'Constitution in French, how hard is that? Instead of "The Constitution" it's "Le Constitution" there's fuck all to it, obviously we'll write everything in proper English and then all the foreigners can translate it into whatever language they speak back home. I've been to Mallorca and fuckin' Ibiza, they all speak English, they love it and you can get egg 'n chips and all day breakfast.

Anyway, if you think I'm writing this bastard out again in French and Spanish you've lost it mate. And as for fuckin' Estonia and Latvia I don't know what language they speak there so just forget it, they'll have to Google the fucker.

5. Common Currency.

I'll tell you sumthin' you aven't thought of, Roman Empire had a common currency and it was bigger than this Union but where is it now? eh? When you use your bank card abroad the money comes out in Euro's anyway so what's the bleedin' point of changing all the money back home? Forget common currency, we don't need it and if the Germans want to go back to using silly coins wi' holes in't middle or whatever, that's their look-out, nowt to do wi' us.

'Ow do you turn this fuckin' spell checker off again? I can't properly proof read this fer all t' squiggly lines.


Hmmm.. Thanks for that JP, is that last line supposed be in the final draft?

Vote JJ for higher taxes and pointless form filling!


(Disclaimer: by 'John Prescott' I mean that fella who sings "Ring of Fire" on the metro to Herman Debroux at 8am every day, not the former deputy cheesey grin).

Sunday, 28 October 2007

Tart Train

It's finally here, the end of Summer(time) is today and we can all be late for work tomorrow morning. How did we place the end of summer in October? October for pete's sake! How bloody optimistic is that? To the best of my recollection we had a good run in April, after that it was patchy at best.

So what's a Tart Train then? Well I had the idea at Sushi Train restaurant, they have a bar with a little track on it and a succession of little dishes runs along the track. One can sit there and pick off as many as one wishes. I thought why not do the same with Mr Kiplings Tarts? It would be much more colourful and the name Tart Train has a better ring to it. Ok, it wasn't Mr Kiplings Tarts I was thinking of, it was the other Tarts, I can't help it, it's the sushi. I smeared it thoroughly with wasabe and soy sauce but the taste and texture still forced it's way onto my tongue. Don't get me wrong, I do like it and I'll eat it again but it just isn't satisfying enough on it's own.

I don't know about you but I've just returned from a fantastic party in Aachen, it's not often one has the opportunity to dance to Thunderstruck at 4am but the chance was there and I took it. Only when I woke up this morning did I realise the clocks went back a 3am so actually I've been foiled, it wasn't 4am it was 3. Bloody government, they ruin everything. At least they've got a government in Germany, here it's still shrugging of shoulders and rolling of eyes. More and more people are saying "tant pis" everything works fine like this, we don't need a government.

That's an idea for my You-Are-Peeing Union election caravan/campaign/train, let's give the EC, the Parliament and Council 6 months off. Then we'll see if the trains still run on time. While they are off they can all learn to play cricket. It is beyond me how anyone can expect to run an administration this size when they don't even play cricket. Where does the sense of fair play and decency come from? eh? Well it doesn't grow on trees but even that's a moot point because you buggers keep cutting them down. You can't build democracy by throwing your little metal balls into a gravel pit! what are you thinking?

You know what else I'm going to have on my election train? Gravy, boats of gravy to fuel my glorious Empire. But before that, I better check how Prescot's getting on with the new Constitution;

JP : I've wrote sumthin' about t'Presidecy and I was gunna do Foriegn Policy next
JJ : Is that it? Come on pick up the pace you lazy fat bastard, it's no wonder you are always the deputy. And Put that gravy boat down we haven't even stood for election yet.

all eyes turn to Gordon Brown
embarassing silence and shuffling of feet
Exit stage left
Curtains close.

Thanks for coming, have a safe journey home.


Monday, 22 October 2007

Don't Take Your Coat Off!

Continuing work on number 6 of my list:

Imagine if once a month you had to work from a different office for a week, the company hires people to move all your stuff 428 kilometres and you go along with it. This is what the European Parliament does. One week of every month they work out of Strasbourg. It goes without saying this horseshit could only happen in France. But why? oh why is it so? I hear you cry, well I'll tell you A Short Story:


A Short Story:

A long time ago a bunch of old men sat in room and said "OK we've got our shiny new You-are-Peeing Union, where shall we put the Headquarters with the swivelly chairs and new desks, all of which costs money?" and the reply came in chorus "not in my country, it's just unneccessary costs and overhead". Then, after much consternations had happened the old men decided to give free money to the country which would house the Headquarters which would be called "Brussels" because that's French for "burocracy with chips and mayonnaise".

The Belgian old man leaped into the air and cried "I'll take it! We can put it in the city which is also called Brussels and finally our Brussels will have second tourist attraction. That stone boy peeing in a fountain was funny in the beginning but it's wearing a bit thin now" and they all agreed but added "it's not supposed to be a tourist attraction! It has to serve purpose you bloody idiot!", the Belgian old man said "Ok I'll do it your way, when do I get my money?" that remark also wasn't very well received and the other old men decided that the Belgian old man was "a little odd" and they made a note of that for later.

While they were all thinking "How the fuck did the Belgians conquer the Congo? It staggers belief!" the French old man said "errmm... how much money exactly? for this errr Brussels thing?" then much more consternations started happening and eventually the French old man said "I'm going to have another Brussels in Strasbourg and get the same amount of free money" the others replied in chorus "OH NO! we've gone from having no costs and overheads to having two lots of costs and overheads plus all the travelling in between, YOU BLOCKHEAD!", "but surely you can see that if we have more Brussels's we will have more democracy, the logic is irrefutable!" replied the Frenchie, the Luxembourger said "Horseshit, you just want free money!", the German old man said "Don't make me come over there!". Then it went quiet for a bit until the Italian old man said "why is everyone scared of him? he lost both wars" and then there was tense silence as the gathering came to a realisation, "OH NO! we've formed a You-are-Peeing Union of losers! WE'RE ALL BLOCKHEADS!"

Some time later they realised they needed a British old man in the Union to give it some credibility, they got one, but it was a British old woman who said to them one day "shut your trap Frenchie, this a big fat waste of money and I want a rebate". Nobody expected that to work becuse the old men had to vote on it first, but amazingly they all voted in favour. So, in summary, they all agreed it was a waste of money but they carried on regardless.

The End (?)


It got a bit lairy towards The End but the point of the story was to explain why there are two Parliaments that between them just do the job of one.

This moving back and forth nonsense was highlighted by our good old friends Sinn Fein in AD2006, when they pointed out this carry on costs at least 190 million Euro annually. As if that wasn't enough, the city of Strasbourg has been overcharging the European Parliament by 2.7 million Euro per year for 25 years. So as of 2006:

Total money wasted in France 4,750 million

Additional amount stolen by overcharging Frenchies: 67.5 million

Why isn't the EU sorting this out? Isn't it embarrassing? What's the Commission's opinion? Why don't the European Council debate this properly and fix it? Why aren't the national leaders bringing this to their debates about Europe? Because they're all a bunch self-serving fops. If one of them starts pointing the finger they'll all turn on each other and starting saving money everywhere, no more porkular expense claims for any of them! Disaster!

You might think this an odd way to go about becoming MEP - attacking the institution itself - well I'm not attacking the institution (today) I'm attacking the pigs that line up in front of the troughs filled with our hard earned cash. More people should be complaining about this flagrant waste of money by the Frenchies, it has to end.

See, I'm protecting you, The Beautiful People, from politits and bowlercrats, huzaahh!! Vote for JJ!


Monday, 15 October 2007

La Planet Des Singes

JJ makes Alien Contact.

After decades of staring into space like a gormless muppet and wondering "what's going on up there? Can we contact aliens?" I finally decided to pick myself up out of the gutter and find out damn it!

When it comes to geeky gadgetry I'm one of the most geekly people I know (I know at least five people in Brussels), notwithstanding that most of said gadgetry is foisted onto me by my loving employer and politely overlooking the GPS incident with The Protagonist, it makes perfect sense. On top of that I have a remarkable ability to say a couple of badly pronounced words in a huge variety of languages. Once I'd thought it through the only question that remained unanswered was "why the custard didn't you think of that before? piehead!"

So I gathered up all the equipment; old mobile phone, four pda's, gps unit, half a dozen wire coat hangers (staple of any DIY project), string, silver spray paint, glitter, 17 metres of kitchen foil, silver platform shoes, oversized goldfish bowl (in case I have to travel), empty yoghurt pot, 24 cans of Maes beer, large bag of potato crisps.

It didn't take long to strip down the pda's and hook them up to the phone and gps with the coat hangers, so I moved the assembly onto the balcone while I got ready. I wasn't really sure about the platform shoes but it was too late to start taking risks, I put them on with the golfish bowl and wrapped myself in foil and proceeded to spray and glitter. There was some stuff left, string and the yoghurt pot but that's DIY! I can just squirrel them away for the next project.

Finally, at around 7pm I was ready. A slight hassle dragging the bean-bag onto the balcone without damaging my spacesuit, but I managed it. I was just sitting there for a while watching the punters outside the Portuguese bar. That Spanish opera singing bloke was there again, bloody racket, I waved but he just looked at me and sat back down with his mates.

I must have dozed off, when I woke up the pda screens were going mad with static but there were some shapes in the background, I couldn't believe my luck! Normally this only happens in Bollywood, then I remembered what the string and yoghurt pot was for. After a dash to the kitchen I attached the yoghurt pot with string to the mobile 'phone and planted it against firmly against my ear. I remember thinking I was glad I'd washed and dried the pot thoroughly, but if I hadn't it would have been a great comedy moment for my blog (yoghurt in ear), it's a shame and a surprise that didn't happen.

Then was the moment which would change my life forever, I heard a voice, it was crackly and distant sounding so I figured this had to be a Voice From Space:

vfs : ###n #### ####op ### re## #### ####### e#####
JJ : Hello, JJ speaking
vfs : ###n y### ####op ### re## ###r sod#### e####!
JJ : hang on I'll move about a bit, it's a really bad signal
vfs : ##en y### ###top ### re## ###r sodd### e#ail!
JJ : wait I'll just go over here a bit

Then it all became scrambled again but I thought the last word was email. When I opened my laptop I had an email from vfs it read "open your laptop and read your sodding email!" I conveniently overlooked the fact that his email address was "vfs" and he'd sent the same message on email that he was trying to speak on the phone and it was in English, it was too early in the morning to think about continuity errors, but maybe I could get some answers from vfs;

JJ (by email) : Oh shit! I thought you were from outer space
vfs : I am
JJ : then how come you're emailing me? In english?
vfs : Because we have email on our planet dimwit and I've been on a TEFL course
JJ : No way! they don't teach words like "dimwit" on TEFL
vfs : have you ever been on a TEFL course?
JJ : No
vfs : then shut the fuck up
JJ : steady on there space man, there's no need to be uncivil
vfs : I'm not, it just seems like that because you don't pick up nuances of expression in email
JJ : good point, my mistake
vfs : what do mean 'space man'? have you never seen Planet of the Apes?
JJ : errrmmm, you're a monkey?
vfs : I'm not a monkey, I'm an Ape, you ignorant stinking human
JJ : you stole that line from the film, why are you so hostile?
vfs : it's all explained in the film, evil humans, good apes, monkeys in-between. Our goal is to build a spaceship and get over there to wipe your planet out before you can spread your evil into the cosmos
JJ : How long will that take?
vfs : Probably a while, but we've got some flying machines up off the ground now
JJ : Flying machines? we did that decades ago, have you visited a nearby moon or anything like that?
vfs : No, have you?
JJ : We did that ages ago, we're going for a planet next and then, who knows we might head in your direction.
vfs : Shit. If you're so smart how come your communications technology is so lousy?
JJ : I'm talking to you aren't I?
vfs : Good point, errrmm, what are your views on intergalactic relations?
JJ : Going by local history I'd say say we're likely to kill most of you and steal anything valuable we can find
vfs : well, I suppose you are quite evil after all
JJ : Yep, and we're determined to fly into space
vfs : Shit, our tv always shows aliens as evil invading nasties but I didn't really believe it
JJ : Well you might like to mull it over for a bit, in the meantime I'm going flood your email with junk just so you get an idea of the things we can do
vfs: evil stinking human!
JJ : stoopid monkey!

That was it, vfs deleted his email account, a crowd of angry villagers threw my radio into a ravine and accused me of witchcraft. I've lost count of how many times I've been pursued by an angry mob and accused of heresy, it's odd because Etterbeek is quite nice during the day.

Anyway, that's one less thing to do before I die. Although making alien contact wasn't actually on my list, that's only because I couln't be bothered to finish writing the list.


Monday, 8 October 2007

Travel XIII, The Tapas Sandwich

This week I'll mostly be in Madrid for a Location Based Services Congress. I don't know why it's Congress rather than a Conference maybe I'll find out tomorrow, I thought Congress was something married people did to each other.

The hot dogs and Leffe at Brussels airport were on good form today but now I'm in a Spanish hotel bar waiting for a Cheess an' Han San'ich whatever that is. I like Spain although this congress is in the hotel i'm staying in so I won't see anything of the country this time. The flight was made a little more eventful than usual in that I had an extremely loud child sitting two seats away from me. I think she had that "terrible two's", it's something children get apparently and it makes them want to talk and sing at the same time as loud as possible and kick everything within reach. Could be contagious too, I felt the need to shout quite loudly a few times but I managed to contain it.

There was a time when I had enough of a grasp of Spanish that I could get around hotels, bars, hospitals and such. These days I'm almost back to the pointy waving language of the British tourist, never mind, this language is probably more widespread than French by now so it's a good idea to practice every now and then.

Amazingly the taxi driver didn't try to rip me off, that used to be part of the charm of Madrid, just like the Mexican taxi drivers that take you down a dark alley and shoot you. I've always thought the Mexicans are much better at being Spanish than the Spaniards are. The problem is countries aren't able to preserve their culture in this modern age of information, the spread of joke/useless email junk is so fast that the people at the Ministry of Culture have been caught with their pants firmly down. Probably having congress when they should be writing laws stopping people from modernising their houses and putting bits of broken pots in museums.

You might think it flippant but remember this the next time you're on holiday and it's raining cats and dogs outside. Where will you be without the Ministry of Culture then? Standing on bit of wasteland getting wet thinking "they should build something here". Where will you get all those little spoons with enamelled handles depicting the place you're visiting? Isn't it strange that you can always buy those in museum shops no matter where you go in the world? Why? Who buys them?

Of course the wonderful thing about Madrid is they have this local delicacy which is a fried egg on top of a plate of fries. It's egg and chips to me but I don't want to be one of those people that goes to another country asks the restauranteurs "can you make egg and chips?" I can get away with it in Madrid, I just say "I love your local delicacies, ahh Spanish food is great!" they like that. I do look forward to these trips.

Anyway, that's enough anthroplogy for one night, I hate spiders anyway.

Goodnight then,


Friday, 5 October 2007

It's here somewhere...

Despite living in Brussels I don't drink and drive normally, whether I drive normally otherwise is a different debate. However, yesterday's circsumstances contrived to bring me into this popular local sport.

Taking the car to the pub is generally taboo (what a horrid word) to me so I already felt umcomfortable before I arrived. But after my 2 beer limit The Protagonist bought me another one. An interesting concept then arose where The Protagonist asked me for money to pay for the beer he'd just bought me. Deep down I suspect he does this kind of thing to distract me from some dastardly scheme he's cooking up but I don't know what.

I was already envisioning a taxi trip to collect the car in the morning but a small miracle happened. The Protagonist and I managed to follow the original plan and leave the pub, it was still daylight! Just.

It was good but slightly disturbing, you know when things go too well and you can't help thinking "I'm sure that's Mr Fuck-Up waiting around the corner, certainly looks familiar anyway", well there he was. Being a kindly and good person I offered The Protagonist a lift home as "it's only 2 minutes from where I live", he should have picked up a clue when I headed toward the passenger door (left-hand drive, still not 100% comfortable with that).

That's where the Twiglit Zone shit started, after Montgomery we just drove around in circles saying "do you recognise anything yet?", "it's covered in bees!", the only thing I recognised was my appartment, both times we went past it. Eventually I stopped the car and reached for the GPS, not only is that the solution, it's the problem. Because I follow that gadget around everywhere I don't know my way around Brussels at all. Well that's part of the problem, the other part could be that The Protagonist was in the pub all afternoon and doesn't know his way home unless he's on that sub-terranean light railway contraption.

It turned out we were only 300 metres from the place, so we weren't that bad after all...

TP : "Where's my phone thing?"
JJ : "What thing?"
TP : "You know, the phone thing"
JJ : "I don't know, what thing are you talking about?"
TP : "aah, bugger it, it'll turn up"
TP Get's up out of the car,
JJ : "oh this thing, the belt clip? you were sitting on it you muppet"
TP : "nice one, my flowers! mustn't forget the flowers"

eeeeh, we did laugh though.


Saturday, 29 September 2007

Vote JJ, for a Dimmer Future!

This is number 6 on my list of things to do before I die, become and MEP.

Does anyone know if I need a manifesto to become an MEP or do they still just get their family and friends to vote and win because the turnout is so poor? If I don't have to write a manifesto or talk about politics I might do it. As long I get tons of expenses payments every time I don't turn up to parliament.

Oh yes and I'll need a big flash car, there won't be any green nonsense in my policies or on my plate. I see myself as an old style fat cat politician who knows nothing about his electorate and couldn't give a fig about the country or anyone who doesn't play golf.

1. Members of the public aren't expected to recycle. We're going to tax Chinese imports and use the money to employ local people to clean up the environment. Also, big business and corporations have to clean up their shit and stop trying to hoodwink the gullible public into putting paper into separate bins that end up in landfill anyway.

2. No carbon tax on flying. Instead, anyone who flies business class or first class has to ride a bike to work (except public servants because they are working in the public interest and shouldn't be troubled with these things)

3. There will be no referendums on the European constitution or treaty. The general public knows nothing about Europe and cares less. The elected government of each country has to decide how they implement European law and stop bleating about it. Referendums will be banned altogether, it's the governments job to govern so get on with it.

4. Public transport will be scrapped and the billions of euros spent on it will go towards providing a huge fleet of taxis that use bio fuel and will be free to ride in. Taxi drivers will be subject to weekly showers, or baths, as they prefer.

5. Anyone caught walking a dog on a city street will be forcibly re-located to the countryside. It's better for the dog and the rest us of can walk on shit-free streets. Any dogs found wandering alone on the streets will be impounded and consider themselves lucky that's all they get done to them.

6. No one will be allowed to park outside a house or apartment block unless they live there or the resident agrees some parking fee. If someone does park outside your house you will be entitled, by law, to "key the car". But only one continuous scratch.

7. Instead of car insurance we'll have an annual fee paid to local governments. But if you crash your car you'll have to pay for your own repairs so you better not buy a flash car and drive like a loony. No cop outs for company cars, you crash - you pay. (Damage to civil servants cars will be paid by the state because they are working for the public good and shouldn't be troubled with these things)

8. Car free day(s) will be mandatory in every city in every member state. Be prepared to have more than one of these.

9. Anyone caught carrying a gun will have it removed and be shot with it, instantly.

10. All employers will implement flexible working hours. People should be allowed to come and go as they please and work from home when they feel like it.

11. Banks will not be allowed to charge for anything except interest on loans. They make far too much money so they'll have to learn to live off the interest they make on peoples cash.

12. Remote controls will be made to one standard, so you only need one for all of your gadgets. You still get one with each gadget but you can just keep them for spares.

13. Priorite Adroit rules will be banned. That's just nonsense, no one knows how it works and it causes too many accidents

14. Heinz Baked Beans will be not be called "Tomato Beans" in Belgian shops, that's silly

15. French fries will be called by their proper name, Chips. Any place selling chips will also have vinegar, pickled onions, pickled eggs, battered fish, mushy meas, battered sausages, curry sauce (not that putrid yellow stuff), the proper Homepride tinned variety and gravy.

16. Now that UK is retaining imperial measurements alongside metric, it's only fair to introduce imperial measurement to the rest of Europe along with the Pound Sterling as an option to the bland characterless Euro

17. Tabloid press will only be allowed to write headlines, no stories. They can have pictures but no text. Their readers will have to work out what's going on for themselves by practicing logic and deductive reasoning.

18. No pop group will be allowed to call themselves a Band unless at least one of them plays an instrument.

19. The next person to say "I love my Apple Mac" will get slapped, as will all subsequent people. The Apple is a "computer" for people who don't know how to use a computer, that's your slogan so-called "Apple Community".

20. This is getting silly now.

"Vote for JJ" and get fleeced to pay for his fact finding missions in the Bahamas to study their public transport infrastructure. If Glenys Kinnock can do it why not me? She was a nursery school teacher and now she's a fat cat.

Disclaimer: I reserve the right to change any or all of these policies before, during or after election.


Friday, 21 September 2007

Tag-less Wander

Spanish Goth wrote a thing (post) about a dream and tagged some people (filthy habit) who have all dutifully responded (not that I bothered to check, I'm trying to reduce my carbon fingerprint). Anyway, I wasn't one of the tagged ones but I'm still going to respond because it's cheaper that thinking of my own ideas for posts. Although I already mentioned one my wierder dreams in Afore ye go! (something about turning into a dolphin).

What really messes with my head is when I dream that I'm getting out of bed and getting ready for work, once that dream looped about five times. That is, I realised I was dreaming, stopped and woke up and started getting ready for work - but that was a dream too, I realised that, stopped and woke up... etc five times. By the time I finally got out of bed I wasn't sure if I was awake or not, I was thoroughly confused and late for work.

I often dream that I'm lying in bed and can't get to sleep, the following morning I really can't tell if I've slept or not. That's quite annoying.

I have some themes that repeat; if something is bothering me I'll dream about spiders, big spiders for big problems and lots of little spiders if I'm just generally unhappy with things. I once dreamed about a huge spider with a wooden leg, I don't know what that was supposed to mean. If a person is draining a lot of time/energy/emotion from me I will see them as a vampire in a dream (the blood sucking bit is what does it), that's a useful one because I don't always realise when someone who seems to be a friend is actually a leech.

I once read a book about self-hypnosis (as an aside - if you read something like that you'll immediately realise how meditation works, it's the same thing) But back to self-hypnosis, I used it to become conscious in my dreams so that I could take control of them. Now when I dream about vampires I can easily fight them by turning into one myself. I almost always fly in my dreams, recently I was running a small zoo in a city when a puma escaped and I flew after it and chased it back into the pen. He didn't expect that at all so he was a bit intimidated.

Years ago I went through a period of post traumatic stress after something bad happened to me, part of that PTS was a recurring dream where I was sitting at a bar and a man approached me, I thought he was going to attack me for some reason. The first time I had the dream it ended there, the next time I dreamed it the fella sat on the stool next to me and began to turn towards me. Each time I had the dream it progressed a little more. The whole dream was that I pulled out a sword and attacked the guy before he could attack me. As you can imagine a sword attack is very messy, a lot of blood every where, the problem was that as the guy collapsed and died I thought I recognised him and realised I'd made a mistake.

Another one I vividly recall was where I was driving on a highway through a desert, after I overtook a petrol tanker I looked in the rear view mirror and saw it go into a skid sideways. It rolled over and exploded in a huge fireball.

I dreamed a winning lottery ticket once and actually remembered the numbers when I woke up, sadly that dream didn't come true. When I was in a band I actually used to get ideas for music in my dreams, sometimes I dream solutions to problems at work too which is a handy way of working things out and saving time.

That's just a sample, I dream almost every night so there are plenty more where those came from and plenty more to go yet.

But that's all for today, I'm off to enjoy a couple of Mr Kiplings fruit pies and a nice cup of tea, well it is Friday after all.



Monday, 17 September 2007

Travel XII, Salad Days

Got back from a splendid holiday in Greece on Sunday afternoon, it was my first time there so we dashed around a few places, in the end it felt like we'd been away for a month. It was a lot of fun:

Friday 31/08:
Arrived late in Athens in 40 degrees of heat, nice view of the Acropolis from the hotel, just had time left for dinner before bedtime. The first of many Greek salads and Mythos beers were consumed that night amongst lots of fine Greek food and drinks.

Saturday 01/09:
Rental Car arrives, we set off to on our travels. Driving accross Evia we saw plenty of scorched landscape around Aleveri, that must have been horrendous. The burning smell was still in the air. Spent the night in Kimi by the port. For dinner we got Greek salad, Fish with potatoes and white wine, because that's all they had, there was no menu. Quaint.

Sunday 02:
Took the ferry to Skyros. The hotel is on the beach but most of the bars and restaurants are in the village - a 20 minute walk up a steep hill, very steep.

Mon 03 to Wed 05:
Lay on the beach, wandered up to the village for dinner, I didn't want to leave but
we'd already made arrangements

Thu 06:
8am ferry back to Kimi and set off back accross Evia, arrived at Delphi early in the afternoon. We explored Appollo's Sanctuary, where the oracles worked, the theatre, stadium and the gymnasium where they trained for the games. They had games there every two years in old days.

Fri 07:
Set off for Nafplio, this little coastal town was the original Greek capital city. Still going well, full of tourists, even the Athenians like to get down there for the weekend.

Sat 08:
Visited Epidavros which was a centre for medicine in the good old days, Hippocrates wrote his oath there. Then we had a wander around Mycenae (Mykines). Maybe that was the other way round...

Sun 09:
Depart for Monemvasia. Not far from Nafplio we looked back and saw a huge column of black smoke about 20km south of the town, later we saw the flames too, it must have been huge. Monemvasia is built on a huge rock off the south east coast, a natural fortress. We stayed in a hotel that used to be a monastery, the whole town is a world heritage site.

Mon 10 - Wed 12:
Hanging around Monemvasia and the nearby beach

Thu 13:
Long drive back to Athens, stopping at Corinth on the way to check out the famous canal.

Fri 14 - Sun 16:
Explored the Acropolis and a few other bits around the city including the stadium they re-built for the first modern Olypmics in 1896. We'd booked a photo tour - a professional photographer took us to a few places to get some good views and pictures. Worked out well.

It's fun driving, the cities are total chaos but that means you can go the wrong way up a one-way street and park wherever you like. Outside the cities the roads are quite decent after years of EU investment, look out for the goats though.

Generally the countryside is used as a bin, when we stopped to look at the fire in the distance, a fella pulled up next to us, got out of his car and threw an empty plastic bottle down the hill. It would actually be easier to keep driving and put the bottle in the bin at home, he didn't seem to see it that way. Despite that there is some fairly spectacular scenery in the Pelopnnese.



Monday, 10 September 2007

Hang On

I'm on holiday in Greece, I'll tell you about it when I get back next week. No need to comment about all year/all over tan etc. I get those comments every time I go on holiday and I can't be arsed to reply anymore.

Oh yes, now that I've had time to relax think about it I withdraw my comments about not being a git anymore. So nuts to the lot of you, stop reading my blog, go on bugger off! yeh and thanks for the f&^*ing support.


Thursday, 30 August 2007

Afore ye go!

It's the Bell's whisky slogan (vile stuff).

Writing and reading lists is one of the staples of the good blogger, one of the other's is writing your blog when you should be working, which I never do and I don't recommend or condone such nefarious activity. Bloody phone's ringing again, sod it they can leave a message if its important.

So here's my list of twenty things to do before I die. I was going to write a hundred but not only am I too lazy to do a hundred things I'm too idle to write a list that long. Actually, I think of these lists like those "To Do" lists at work or the "Tasks" in Outlook, I spend all day editing the lists and never actually do any of the things on them.

1. Mud-wrestling with Kylie Minogue (see previous post), but instead of cold mud it'll be warm tapioca because there's no other human use for tapioca. You certainly shouldn't be eating the foul stuff

2. Turn into a Dolphin. I once did this in a dream, it's quite painful until you get into the water but then the water feels really nice against Dolphin skin and it doesn't wrinkle even if you stay in water for ages. I wish I'd dreamed about being a shark, maybe I will one day.

3. Get a brand new Mercedes for free. My Loving Employer is taking care of this even now.

4. Win the US Open (Golf). Granted this is unlikely but I've started having lessons and I own a real golf ball. Just need a club and bag and I'm on my way but I can't decide which colour club to get. Silver ones look nice but orange is a warmer colour, I like orange. I might get a hat too.

5. Win the lottery. Only snag-ette is I've never actually bought a ticket (in Belgium anyway). I'm waiting for a sign. An astrologer once told me I had a good chance of winning. She also told me I'd be married before the age of thirty five, she didn't tell me I'd get divorced before the age of thirty five though, bitch, that could've saved me a few quid.

6. Become an MEP. David Cameron sent me some stuff to read, I'll get round to it one day. But the way Chimpy Dave is going it looks like he might become an MEP before I do.

7. Learn French. To speak, read and write it too. Despite all my fancy pants and plans to bake bread at home I am officially illiterate in Belgium. It came as something of a shock when I realised that. What really hurts is I can't even say "thick bastard" in French (or Flemmish) and that's completely undermining my self-deprecating British sense of homous.

8. Stop being a git. This is really difficult, I've always wanted to be an old git, even before Harry Enfield's Old Gits. I practice quite a lot (being a git), girlfriend doesn't appreciate it much but the thing with relationships is; if the person your with now is less of a git than the last person you were with, then you're happy. I really need to stop being a git.

9. something about recycling or doing volunteer work in Africa etc.

errrm, I can't be bothered anymore. Oh here's one for you, you can write a list of "shit posts that don't do what they say they'll do" and you can put this one on it. You'll notice I haven't tagged anyone with this list so please don't tag me with your Shit List.

Thanks heaps, I'm off to plan my re-incarnation now so cheeriebye!


Thursday, 23 August 2007

Naval Territory

I was explaining the term "Naval Gazing" to some Germans after our weakly badminton session, it came up because one of the group works in parliament and is taking a week off to study. It occurred to me that someone stated "Naval Gazing" as their occupation in their blog profile. Could be Zoe, I think that's her style. Anyway, that lead me think I haven't blogged for a few days so here's some stuff I've thunk about:

This was told to me by more than one person in Denmark so I'm assuming it's true. The annual Father Christmas convention happens in the last week of July every year in Copenhagen, two years ago the Finns were ostracised for claiming that Santa comes from Rovaniemi in Finnish Lapland. The Finns have their own Father Christmas convention now, they won't be allowed back into the global one until they renounce their belief. I'm with the others, I don't think big fat jovial people in red costumes would come from Finland, frankly I don't think they'd go there either, costumed or otherwise.


According to the opening web-site template provided by Apple "HTML... is what webmasters and designers use", "To create an HTML web page in Microsoft Word, all you have to do is choose Save as HTML".

Is anyone fooled by this? Do you really think you can create your own version of "You Tube" in Microsoft Word just by clicking "Save as HTML"? If you're even thinking about trying it, you are a seriously deluded individual. This is the equivalent of saying you can start your own country by declaring your back-yard to be independent territory. Make sure you've paid off your mortgage but that's going to be the least of your problems.

On the other hand this is aimed at Mac users so let me just explain - the first paragraph is real, the second paragraph IS A JOKE. DO NOT try to start your own country, there are enough people laughing at you already you don't need any more.


I saw a "report" on CNN about dangerous Chinese exports. After the usual numbers; the US imports $230 million more than they export to China, they told us about Thomas the Tank Engine toys containing Lead Paint. An interview with a "Toy Industry Expert" confirmed it but then he said it's just a few bad apples etc.

What the hell is "a toy industry expert"? who does he work for? 80% of the WORLDS toys are made in China, if one has a problem does that make Chinese standards worse than US, UK or anywhere else. Seems to me they have a pretty good average overall. So is this story just a bunch of hokum made up by CNN? Of course it is. Is this going to stop Chinese imports and bring thousands of jobs back to America? Dream on, it's filthy propagandy by the fat cats who have outsourced manufacturing so when Americans complain about job losses they can blame the Chinese.


I've been getting a lot of email lately about buying cheap drugs over the Internet, it's seems to go in phases. Is there really anyone dumb enough to believe that "no need to have a doctor recommendation" is a good thing? I can only think they keep sending this out because there must be some people responding to it, incredible, here's the whole thing:

Enjoy the Security, Competence Low-Priced Prices and Excellence Benefit mainly trusted On-Line Canadian Drug Store.

We take over 2000 Trade Name and General medicines. We are the major web-based drugstore in Canada we are able purchase at the low probable prices. We then hand our investments onto you.

No need to have a doctor recommendation to request from our company.

We can even set you up on express re-buy so you don't have to be anxious about running out of your medical treatment.

For great saving check us out: www.{deleted by JJ for your protection}.org

Hmmmm... Canadian? I think not, these people are barely literate you'd have to be mad to buy anything from these clowns. Mad, mad, barmy, doolally, dippy, probably loopy and a tad fruity if not completely stark staring bonkers altogether. (Who say's English isn't a rich and colourful language, I think it's fucking maarvellous!)


Finally (about bloody time), I might have mentioned this before but I just can't shake it from my head. This happened the first time I went to visit the commune administration in Etterbeek. The Foreigners registration bit is downstairs, in the dinghy basement, a large lobby area with doors all around leading to various offices. I went to the one I thought was right and knocked, a fat bloke opened the door and after I explained my situation he sent me to the next door along. I knocked on that door and bloody hell, the same bloke opened it and let me in. The office was narrow, about 12 yards (10.92 metres) long with a door at each end. When we went over to his desk I realised it was bang in front of the first door I'd knocked on! This seemed perfectly normal to him, I couldn't stop thinking "Monty Python". He could've signed me up for a mud-wrestling contest with Kylie Minogue, I wouldn't have noticed, I just couldn't take that guy seriously.


That's all for this session, next time we can talk about something you like to do (yeh, right!)


Sunday, 12 August 2007

Travel XI, Danish Cricket

I wrote this yeterday so it's out of date, I had rather a good day today but I'll tell that another time. I didn't publish this yesterday because I was tanked, I guess I just don't trust myself;

10 August 2007
Fuck me, I'd rather be in Brussels even though I constantly slag it when I'm there. What I'm really saying is I'd rather be with girlfiend, I invited her out here but she turned me down. That might sound odd but she had good reasons and none of it was my fault.

No need to mope though, I went down to Tivoli to see a free concert, if you think "free" means "shit", think again. Tivoli has all sorts of fairground rides and a couple of roly-coasters (see Larry Sanders). There's heaps of bars and restaurants, so it's easily worth the 79 Crowns to get in, but what got me was - this is a typical outdoor do, sound system like the arse end of a space shuttle and improvised bars dotted around the place, but - the beer is cheaper in there than the boozer accross the road!? eh? On top of that, the Danes are just chillin' and enjoying the music, there's no queue at the bar, ever! It's goes without saying the place was strewn with slinky blondes, it just seemed to good to be true and frankly it made me nervous.

In time honoured fashion I just quietly drank my drink and left politely. I knew the faux (yes that means "shit") English/Irish bars were more expensive but I can't really enjoy a drink when everyone around me is smiling and stepping aside to let me get to the bar. It was a futile search, there are no drunken louts in Copenhagen, well there are but they're not loutish enough. I need to feel like I've escaped a war zone to be able get a good nights sleep, I miss Leeds at times like this.

Shanghai Sam's Karaoke bar looked promising (in the sense that "I have to see this shit") until I got inside, this is hardcore Karaoke you don't hear the singer because the whole pub is singing (shouting). It was full to the rafters even though they charge 30 Crowns to get in, looked like a lot of regulars and no doubt there would be drunken shenanigans later, but not for me.

I sneaked accross the road to another English style pub. "Style" being the operative, they have "Leffe Blond/Brown" and Hoegarden on tap. I felt strangely at home sitting in frong of the Leffe taps but not enough to venture a glass, the Tuborg was doing a more than Stella job so I didn't feel the need to change.

However, after I'd fulfilled the prescription I did feel the need to get a cab back to the hotel. I contrived to let someone get in front of me in the queue so I could get in the second cab with the Eastern European looking bloke. I had a hunch he would be the quicker driver. I was right, he was a maniac, driving two inches up the next drivers arse and constantly flashing lights to get past, it was even better than being in Italy. He got a well earned tip, I can't drive like that even in Brussels but I watched and learned.

It hot here.


Thursday, 9 August 2007

Travel X, Free Stuff

Back on Monday afternoon I chucked my toothbrush into a taxicab and set off yet again for the delights of Brussels airport.

I almost had a hot dog at the bar but they'd sold out and I didn't fancy waiting 20 minutes for the next batch, I only had 5 minutes to boarding. So I knocked back a lively leffe and jumped aboard for the hop over to Copenhagen, they have excellent hot dogs even in the baggage hall, next to conveyor 3.

I'd ordered a little Ford Fiesta to get to the hotel thinking that would cause the least hassle if I wrapped it round a post, but the kind rental people upgraded me. Few things can be as big and ugly and still say "It's supposed to look like this", as a Sport Mondeo Estate. In hindsight it was very nice of them, but at the time when the lady asked me "Any questions?", all I could think of was "What's the drink drive limit in Denmark?", I'm sure she knew the answer but somehow she couldn't get the words out.

I followed the GPS to the hotel, no bother, I've been there before but somehow I'd confused it with that pokey rat-hole in Oslo so I was pleasantly surprised by the lovely huge suite they put me in. 150 kroner of drinks tokens and free movies in the room helped sweeten the deal. The downside is that it's Fashion Week in Copenhagen, I've nothing against Danish fashion, it's just that I couldn't stay in the hotel for the full week or even find a room in the city at all on Thursday and Friday, so I have the pleasure of a couple of nights at a hotel next to the airport. Awful location but because of that they make more of an effort. This time I've got access to the Executive club lounge with endless supply of drinks and food. Also free Internet in the room but then if they wanted to charge me I'd just charge it back to my Loving Employer anyway.

Oh, the free movies, I watched Rocky Balboa. Well there was nothing decent on, including Rocky Balboa. That film is like a hospital moment when they say "this might hurt a bit", you know it's going to be fucking agony and it was.

But back to the airport hotel, the view looks out across the sea and it's next to "that bridge that goes into a tunnel", I saw it from the plane on the way in and someone on the row in front said "look, there's that bridge that goes into a tunnel". I reckon I'll take a drive over at the weekend, it comes out in Malmo (Sweden) then I can go along the coast to Helsingborg, get the ferry to Helsinger (Denmark again) and drive back down to Copenhagen. It's about 150km round trip so tomorrow I'll see if I can blag a blank CD off the local IT mob and burn a Motorhead disk - the Danish radio's giving me a headache.

I've got heaps more stuff to tell but now there's a film on tv with female vampires fighting, so it'll just have to wait.



Tuesday, 7 August 2007

Travel IX, I've marked that bottle!

JJ Goes to Denmark

I was going to say something about Copenhagen but I decided on this instead (see below).

Written by Lemmy, performed with Fast Eddie and Philthy Phil.



Please tell me I'm dyin', I´m out of my mind
And I´m telling you
Please don't feel bad, I´m totally mad
I´m a boogaloo
I´m certain, I must be a burden
Over the top, over the top

Don´t know what it means, all I hear is screams
And I don´t know whose
The nightmare´s for real, I got a raw deal
And it´s all bad news
And I swear it, I can´t bear it
Over the top, over the top

I tell you no lie, my main alibi
It´s a waste of time
You know it´s the truth, the lyrics the proof
And at least it rhymes
You can´t harm me, ´cos I´m barmy
Over the top, over the top

Sunday, 5 August 2007

Sprouts Life

JJ Goes to the Movies

Brussels has a tremendous selection of what used to be known as "Arthouse" cinemas, these days we call them "musty old flea pit where they show films with subtitles", a bit redundant really because you could describe the whole of Brussels like that. All films in Belgium have subtitles, in two languages, even on TV. Next time you're flicking throught the Lonely Planet for some exotic location to spend your measley holiday entitlement, remember: if a town has lots of cinemas, you can assume it going to rain every day. If there are lots of museums, hire a boat.

Nevertheless, in spite of this pointless meandering, determined to enjoy myself I managed to drag my sorry carcass to one of the smaller flea pits. After all, why should I stay at my own place and sit on my own sofa watching movies on my own tv when I can pay someone to do it at their place?

The flea pit is deserted of course so the ticket assistant locked eyes on me immediately. I just told myself it was nothing do with the place being empty, she probably would have done that anyway. Trying to be nonchalant like an Indian James Bond I sauntered through the lobby.

Did you know the Punjabi word for arse is "bond"? My grandmother would be in tears laughing at that every time, god rest her soul. Actually, now that I think of it, it was more of swagger than a saunter, like Clint Eastwood in High Plains Drifter. It's no wonder she was staring.

So I approached the ticket counter, no queue at these places, especially on a Monday night.

JJ: what's showing tonight then?
Asst: English?
JJ: I am and it should be
Asst: You don't look English
JJ: My parents are Indian, does that matter?
Asst: Indian! Ooohh I love India, all the temples and people, the foods great. I went last year for my holidays, what's that little fishing village on the coast? Do you know the one I mean?
JJ: Do you want to go through the whole list or shall I just stand in the corner and chew my arm off?
Asst: It'll come to me in a minute, the sunsets are amazing, I've been there 5 times in all
JJ: And yet you still can't remember what it's called. I hear that marijuana grows wild in many parts of India but I've never been so I can remember most of my holiday destinations
Asst: You've never been!? How could you not go? Haven't you got family there?
JJ: I've got hundreds of relatives in India and that's precisely why I've never been. Now, much as I am enjoying this sparkling conversation, I did come in to see a movie, would you happen to have any lying around?
Asst: You're not going to believe this! It's your lucky day, we've got a new movie in today from the guy who made Mango Wedding about mixed race couples, you'll love it
JJ: Wasn't it Monsoon Wedding?
Asst: It's ever so romantic, the girl gets forced into an arranged marriage but the groom turns out to be an untouchable, he was lying during the arrangement, then the family are all despairing when the girls lover turns up and beats up the groom and all of his family and they all run off. In the end the grateful parents let the two get married to each other, I cried at the wedding scene
JJ: Do you get many mixed race couples coming in to see it then?
Asst: Oh yeah, mixed race couples are just like you and me, whenever they don't know what to do and that, they turn to Bollywood
JJ: Uncanny
Asst: You should see it here on a Friday night. Funny though, there's a lot of break-ups after the movie, it was a proper demolition site last week.
JJ: Tell you what, I'll give it a miss tonight, maybe I'll turn up at the finish next Friday and see if there's anything worth picking up
Asst: You heartless bastard! this blog knows you've got a girlfriend
JJ: It also know's none of this is real so be a treasure and shut up now, I'm off to the boozer, bloody stupid idea this was
Asst: Thanks-for-coming-please-call-again
JJ: Will you shut up already? It's the movies not Kwik-e-Mart and you're a girl!

eeeh I do enjoy a good night at the flics.


Friday, 3 August 2007

Real Laws

How does taxing airlines or introducing congestion charges for cars reduce carbon emissions? Because they stop people using those means of transport? Horseshit, those industries are growing and expanding, they're not doing it on the back of the investors good nature.

1. Each household is only permitted two vehicles. Unless they’re electric, then you can have more.

Don’t give me that crap about charging an electric car is using fossil fuel at the powerstation, that’s nowhere near the same and you know it.

Why all this fuss about banning Smoking in public areas, it’s just added burocracy and costs when you have to employ people to enforce it (obviously this doesn’t apply to Belgium)

2. Legal minimum age for buying and smoking cigarettes is raised to 30. That should slow the take-up rate.

Ok, easy enough? Let’s tackle teen pregnancy, binge drinking, inner city weekend violence/vandalism, this is so easy it ridiculous…

3. Legal minimum age for drinking alcohol raised to 25. Drinking in the streets is banned completely

This is a huge blow for the alcopop industry and Government revenues. So let’s say bugger the alcopop industry, let it die, remember how the real industries were killed off in the eighties? Just like that, no need to protect this poisonous rrrubbish. Government shouldn’t object, what they lose in revenue, they save in policing, healthcare, street cleaning etc. As an added bonus the Government also gets a generation of people aren’t alcoholics, assuming that’s what they want.

4. Abolish speed cameras and radar guns

Hooray!!.... but just a minute

All road vehicles will be fitted with speed limiters. They managed it with seat belts and Catalysts, it’s not difficult. This technology has been around for years and years and years. Problem is, if it was implemented then we might as well all drive those slow electric cars, there would be no more advantage to the petrol engine.

What about wreckless driving:

5. Road deaths prosecuted as manslaughter

6. Legal minimum age for driving, 25.

In any other walk of life, if someone dies through your carelessness or recklessness you can get 15 years for manslaughter. But if you are speeding on a busy road and kill a mother and her child walking to school what happens? You get a driving ban for 12 months. Remember that one? The Subaru Impreza. Is that the type of car that should be driven by a teenager in a built up area? Of course he'll do it if we let him, it’s up to us to stop this idiocy.

So that’s Binge Drinking, smoking, teen pregnancy, weekend violence, carbon emissions, road deaths and speeding all sorted out.

Sounds like heading into a nanny state? Look at Australia, you can’t walk your dog in the city (that's why they walk upright, they're not the lookout for dogshit all the time), the number of things you can’t do on the beach is at least a two hand count, they actually throw you out of pubs for being drunk. Yes it does feel like a nanny state, but the number of Brits (and people from every other country in the world it seems) that go there for a holiday and never come back is legendary.

Think about it, it sounds heavy but drunk teenagers aren’t going to mend your society.


Wednesday, 1 August 2007

Hi Guys,

The only thing worse than having a bad day is when someone you love is having a bad day.


Friday, 27 July 2007

Something in the Air

Seems that a number of bloggers are blogging about sex at the moment and not being one to baulk at stealing ideas and jumping on bandwagons etc I thought should take the opportunity to further my education and contribute to the greater good.

On the kitchen table, in the stairs, bathroom, living room etc not very original but how about actually moving between rooms while "engaged"? I've done it but I'm not convinced that it adds anything. It adds to the effort, which is not really a bonus in my view.

I've tried playing with food, warm and cold, on the whole I don't like anything cold on my skin. Some women love ice cubes on them, not me, can't stand it. Being tied up and teased mercilessly is more my idea of a fun night in, haven't done that for a long time though. Can get a bit hairy if blindfolds are introduced too. But then if you don't trust your partner to be safe/careful the question of blindfolds during bondage might not be your biggest problem.

Needless to say I've tried one or two 'toys', I'm in favour of those but again some things ought to be warmed up before contact/insertion. Lube and textured condoms are easy to get hold of and so definitely worth a try.

Location is always worth experimenting with, the added thrill of being caught and so on. I've tried it outdoors, in some bushes in a park it was hot day so there were Lot's of people out and we could hear various conversations going on around us. When some kids started running around in the bushes we decided to move on, not immediately though, takes time to dis-engage. It works well if you have strong urges (like at the beginning of a relationship), otherwise the sense of danger overwhelms the urge and it won't happen.

Anyone been to a swingers club? I haven't, I don't think I could handle it if I met someone I know there and they actually wanted to "swing" me, or whatever the phrase is, scary. I'd like to know how people justify that, do they just think of it as a hobby? Perhaps its a way of keeping a relationship going where everything else works but the sex. Maybe I'll ask at the HR/Personnel office, they might not know the answer but at least they'll be expecting a stupid question when they see me walk in.

I found this by way of research;, if you want to meet some people who want to wee on you, have a look, personally I find the term, and the act, "Golden Shower" just plain bizzarre. How that turns anyone on is well beyond my grasp, but that's just one of the many delights awaiting you at the Aladin's cave that is

Anyway, while we're on the subject of getting pants down, better get back to work, har, har, maybe that's a bit too close the errmmm...bone so to speak.



Monday, 23 July 2007

A Fine Mess

Send this to as many people as you can

Did you know that Oliver Hardy (from Laurel and Hardy) has the same message as Adolf Hitler!!!!????? This is so amazing it has to be true!!!!!!

In Germany, Oliver is actually spelled as Olifer, and Adolf means "A Dolt", ie a fat stupid man, makes sense?? "Hardy", translated to German means "Hard Man" almost the same in English "a hardy man", ie someone who "hit's a lot" which is almost the same as a "hitter" or, in German, "Hitler".

In the silent movies Olifer und Stan were often shown as being broke. But look at them again, they're wearing a suit in every movie. Who wear's a suit in the 1940's??? It doesn't matter that the films were shot in the thirty's, the point is that they were wearing suits during the war when everyone else was broke!

It wasn't until 1976 when even Ian Kilmister was able to muster enough dinero for a bullet belt.

We all know that many Germans went to the US and Argentina to avoid the Nuremburg Trials, did you know that their money funded the movie industry? Well ask yourself this; where else did the money come from? USA was broke from the war.

Stan Laurel's original name was Metro Goldwin. "Metro" as in "Metro-sexual" and "Goldwin" as in "I WON the GOLD from the war, it's a Gold-Win", that's how he sneaked into America. Metro-sexuals have been undermining the silent movie industry since the thirty's, but what can you do about it??

Well here's what you can do: paste this article into a word document, highlight the text, change the font to wingdings, make it bold, size 24, convert it into a pdf, save as .jpg, check for netscape compatibility, take a picture of your arse, put your finger in it, smack yourself over the head with a baseball bat, put your left leg in a bear trap, throw up in a shrubbery, phone pizza slut and go to bed before they come.

If you don't send this to ten people immediately you'll be wracked with guilt for the next fifteen seconds or until the next email/internet junk takes your mind off it, whichever is the sooner, it's up to you.


PS. why are there so many conspiracy web-sites around? are people really that stupid?

Friday, 20 July 2007


JJ Goes to the Wrestling.

Now this is stretching back almost thirty years so there could be a few gaps and/or licentious liberties but I'll try to keep it straight.

On alternate Tuesday evenings they held Wrestling at our local Civic Hall and my old man was a huge fan so he would take us all along regularly. Mum never went though, somehow this macho shit didn't appeal to her. I didn't understand that at the age of 9 but I think I do now (no, really I mean that, I'm in touch with my squidgy side these days). Thirty years on I managed to drag Girlfriend to see The Revenge of the Sith at Toison d'or even knowing that that was her equivalent my mum going to the Wrestling. So I got one up one the old twat.

Those were the days of Giant Haystacks, Big Daddy, Kung Fu, Dynamite Kid, Rollerball Rocco and so on. Catweazel will always be an old time wrestler to me.

It was just a regular thing for us until uncle J came to visit from India. Then it turned into a whole Roman Gladiator kind of deal. We were buying posters, badges, magazines, hanging in the bar to meet the wrestlers, it got completely out of hand.

One guy, who I'll never forget, was called Kendo Nagasaki, he used to come on stage in a black cloak with a leather/chrome mask accross his face carrying a Samurai sword. When the match started he would have a black fabric mask with white stripes. He didn't lose a match in fifteen years. The idea was that if another wrestler beat him up so badly he could rip his mask off he'd have to reveal his identity. This went on and on and we all wondered about this mysterious oriental man and his strange secrets, "Why can't he be beaten?" He was almost beaten a few times but managed to get himslef disqualified instead or cheated his way out.

Eventually, he retired undefeated, there was an unmasking ceremony at our Civic Hall but somehow we missed it and had to watch it on tv on Saturday afternoon World of Sport. His manager took the mask off and placed it in a ceremonial fire. The wierd thing was he just looked like an ordinary white dude. At that age I was just learning that people who look real on tv aren't always real, Kendo taught me a lesson.

He did some fights without the mask but it was never the same for me and I gradually lost interest. Later he came back with the mask on but the whole wrestling thing was dying out, we'd stopped going, Kent Walton died, Pat Roach went off to do Auf Wiedersein Pet, they took wrestling off the air and eventually World of Sport gave way to Grandstand. Des Lynam did a good impression of Dickie Davies but it turned to mush after he left.

There was an Indian wrestler called Tiger Singh, he runs a pub in Leeds now, I've been there. To Leeds and to the Pub. Not that I made a trip of it, I lived in Leeds and just wandered into his pub one day. He wasn't there but the people talked about him like he was a legend, I thought "obviously none of you ever saw him fight" and then I left (I was on the way to a band practice)

Obviously I live my life like a masked Kendo Nagasaki; undefeatable, unfathomable, inpenetrable. The reality is that I'm just an ordinary brown dude.