Friday, 6 December 2013

Extract Of Court Martial Trial Judgment From The Trial Of Marine "A"

Marine A executed the Afghan national by shooting him in the chest at close range with a 9mm pistol, saying “There you are. Shuffle off this mortal coil, you cunt". He then turned to comrades and said: “Obviously this doesn't go anywhere, fellas. I just broke the Geneva Convention.” 

This execution was filmed by a camera mounted on the helmet of Marine B. Marine A reported to superiors via radio that the insurgent was still alive and - to avoid the watching helicopter and observation balloon - he was manhandled to the side of the field, under the cover of trees. Marine A is then overheard asking "Anyone want to give first aid to this idiot?" before Marine B replies loudly "No". 

Marine C, standing over the insurgent pointing a pistol at his head, is heard asking Marine A if he should shoot the man in the head, which is refused as "that would be too fucking obvious". Footage shows the injured man, whose top had been pulled up exposing his bloodied torso, suffering kicks from the servicemen before being flipped over from his back to front. As Marine B gives the pretence to the watching helicopter or balloon of administering first aid, he is heard to say "For fuck's sake, I cannot believe I'm doing this". Marine C replies: "Don't - just - don't - yeah, wait a minute, just pretend to do it until he's behind them trees."Two minutes later, Marine A shoots the insurgent at close range in the chest.

Marine C stated in the court martial that his offer to shoot the man in the head and the heart was "banter" and "black humour". Marine C told the court martial he walked away from the insurgent, judging the man was dead, before he heard a shot ring out: "I wasn't there, you know, I wasn't any part of it. I wasn't asked if I wanted or if we should shoot. As far as I knew, when I walked off he was dead". 

This turned out to be untrue when the court saw the footage and later heard extracts from Marine C's journal which he wrote on the evening of the killing: "So there I was, pistol drawn, waiting for [Marine A] to get off the net so I could pop this little wanker and be done with it, when [Marine A] came back over, and thinned me out, to take up ARCS with the others. As I walked off [Marine A] popped him one himself! I felt mugged off, but job done - little fuck was dead at the end of the day."

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Yeah, But How Can You Represent Them When You KNOW They're Guilty?

Ah, the question everyone asks when they find out what I do for a living.

It used to irk me. I wondered why ostensibly smart people couldn't work out the answer for themselves - but then I have always been a defence lawyer so it makes sense to me, but I have come to learn it really isn't apparent to a lot of people and nor should it be.

There are some myths and some truths in the beliefs people hold about us caniving tricksters who get the bad guys off (often "on a technicality") but most people who ask me and listen to my answer seem fairly satisfied that what I do is justified and necessary.

So - first to dispel a couple of myths:

I cannot put forward a defendant as "not guilty" if they admit the offence to me. Although what they tell me is absolutely confidential and I can advise them to make "no comment" so as not to further incriminate themselves beyond the evidence the police already have, I cannot help them fabricate a story - nor would I want to - in order to "get them off".

Secondly - most people plead guilty.

Most defendants are faced with a decent weight of evidence and offer a guilty plea - and, quite rightly, get sentenced for it. Others come to me and say "I ain't done it" and for the majority of these people the evidence is stacked against them and I advise them as such.

The CPS are not daft - they don't charge cases (ie send them to court) unless they have a decent amount of evidence. So often it is a case of me being an objective assesser of the evidence and advising the client if I think they are likely to be convicted that they should plead guilty.

They often want to take the risk and fight it, but where there is overwhelming evidence I advise them firmly of this. My advice is usually taken because my clients trust me to look after their interests. Police, court clerks or prosecutors telling them they're stuffed falls on deaf ears. They're 'the man' - the voice of authority. I am their legal counsel - I am paid exclusively to look after their best interests. If I think it is in their best interests to plead guilty because they're stuffed (and thus get a reduction in sentence for a guilty plea) I will tell them - and they tend to listen.

So, my advice spares hundreds (yes hundreds) of victims each year from having to give evidence about the crime itself and be cross-examined and saves thousands of hours of court time and tens of thousands of pounds of taxpayers' money in avoided trials. Many people who tell me they want to plead not guilty will accept my advice and plead guilty when I have finished explaining my reasoning to them.

But what of the ones that say they haven't done it and either (a) they have a good case or (b) they're stuffed but won't listen to my advice?

Well, obviously in case (a) we have a potentially/possibly/probably (depending on the circs) innocent person. I am going to fight tooth and nail to get them acquitted - as I'm sure you would want and expect me to. That seems fair, right?

So....that leaves the tiny minority of people I deal with, but the ones that form the topic of the question I quoted at the beginning - those defendants who face apparently overwhelming evidence but maintain their denial despite my advice that they are likely to be convicted.

[Note: I never tell them I don't believe them or I think they have done it if they say they haven't - it is NOT my job to call them a liar and they woulds lose all trust in me if I did so. It is my job to tell them objectively if I think the court will believe them or not].

In these cases I.....fight tooth and nail to get them acquitted. Of course I do. Why/how could I do anything else?

"Yeah, but if you KNOW they did it?"

I don't.

I wasn't there so I don't know they did it.

They have not admitted it to me so I don't know they did it. I can strongly suspect they did it, I could even believe they did it, but I don't know and more importantly what I believe doesn't matter one bit.

Am I the Judge or the jury? No. So it is absolutely not my job to decide the fate of my client. If they insist they are innocent (and let's not forget the hundreds of widely reported miscarriages of justice where all circumstantial evidence pointed firmly at the defendant and DNA or other evidence later categorically exonerated them) then who am I to decide they aren't and so shouldn't get a proper case put forward?

Would it not be usurping the role of the courts altogether and supremely arrogant of me to say "Weeeell - I reckon he's done it, so fuck 'im - I'm not going to put up much of a fight"?

If you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, if some ex-friend went psycho and fabricated an allegation of assault or harassment or rape (it does happen) against you - if you ended up in court charged with a crime you hadn't committed and were pleading your innocence and put all your faith in someone with years of training and even more years of experience in the criminal courts to help prove your innocence - someone paid purely to do that - wouldn't you be disgusted if they did a half-arsed job because they didn't believe you?

And it is precisely because I don't know and can never know for sure whether someone did or did not commit an offence that I cannot make myself the Judge and decide a defendant doesn't deserve defending.

Yes, that can make this job gut-wrenchingly unpleasant at times. I have had to view photographic and video evidence that has turned my stomach and even brought tears to my eyes involving harm done to children, adults and animals - and then stood up and defended the alleged perpetrator of those horrific acts.

It is not an easy job and it is much maligned, but when someone who has never been in trouble before (and particularly if they are well educated, articulate and "middle class") gets charged and has to go to court they are always horrified at how they are "treated like a criminal" and everyone "assumes I'm guilty before I've even had my say".

We live in a "no smoke without fire" society. Why do we have all those vile headlines about the landlord alleged to have killed Jo Yeates before any charge was laid (never mind a conviction)?

Why do people throw rocks at prison vans with SUSPECTS inside who are on their way to TRIAL (ie they are denying the crime)? We assume if someone is charged they are guilty. We see it more than ever in the reporting of "terror" arrests. My firm has dealt with numeorus arrests under the Terrorism Act. Not one had sufficient evidence to get to trial.

Rumour, suspicion, innuendo, anonymous tip-offs based on misheard snippets of conversation and the fact that he's a Muslim with one of those big long beards etc etc.

We live in a civilised society but we still lock people up for months whilst awaiting trial and then drop the case due to lack of evidence. They then have to face the world with that stain on their character.

I know a man who was charged with rape. The lady who accused him later admitted to fabricating it and it transpired she had made false allegations before. He lost his job, his wife and his friends shunned him. He spent 9 months in jail awaiting trial.

He hanged himself about three months after he got out.

Many others have had their lives ruined even though they have been acquitted because the whole neighbourhood saw them carted off by police and saw their photo on the front page of the local evening news "Man Charged With Murder" and if they get found not guilty? Well, let's just avoid him just in case. I mean I'VE never been arrested for murder. YOU'VE never been arrested for murder. He must've done something to attract suspicion!

Those may be extreme examples but they hold the key to the reason I do this job. What if it was me? What if it was you? What if the entire weight of the CPS and the police was coming down on you trying to get you jailed for something you know you didn't do?

You'd want a lawyer who would do their job properly wouldn't you?

Defence lawyers have seen a freeze in legal aid rates for 11 years, followed by substantial cuts. I work 10-12 hours a day most days and evenings and weekends on top. If I am out all night at a police station I am in court the next morning. I get no time off in lieu.

When I am not working (or listening to heavy metal) I am reading the reams of cases published each week and new legislation coming along every month as I need to be up to date on all of it. Criminal law changes faster than any other area of law and requires constant training and I also have to train many of the staff at my firm and others as new legislation is so badly worded these days that it takes 12 months of case law to establish how the higher courts will interpret some of it.

It's no good you saying to me "I did x and y, but not z" in a police station before the police interivew you and me saying "Hmmmmm, well I'm not sure that technically is an offence, but it might be".

So - if you think I do it for the money then think again - I could get paid double what I do now in almost any other area of law. I don't get respect from most people for doing this job like I would in some circles if I were a doctor or a fireman - and on the whole I don't get much in the way of thanks from many of the people I represent - but what I do get is a tiny bit of satisfaction in knowing that I help the wheels of justice keep turning.

The guilty are more likely to put their hands up to it if a good lawyer that they trust gives them sound advice. The avoided trials save us millions of pounds a a year. The innocent few who end up in court by a combination of bad luck or bad judgment or over-zealous policing, get given a slightly better chance against the weight of prosecution against them and a chance of acquittal (slim chance: of those that actually plead not guilty, over 80 percent are convicted at trial according to the most recent figures from 2010).

I don't set any of this out to make myself sound noble or deserving of praise - far from it - I get paid a reasonable wage to do a job that is occasionally enjoyable, often interesting and always challenging. I simply hope that a few more people who wonder how us defence lawyers can bring ourselves to "represent scumbags", or however they see it, appreciate that there is a value to society in having defence lawyers around.

As for "getting off on a technicality" that happens so very rarely, but is a topic for another blog post another day.

I am now getting down off my high horse and if you have bothered to read this, thank you for taking the time.

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Chris Brown, Waste of Oxygen

This unrepentant dick continues to show no remorse for his frenzied attack on Rihanna and moreover his first account to police was not one of contrition, rather he set out a number of reasons why she had "provoked" and "annoyed" him.

Nice move fella.

Beat a woman senseless and then set about telling the cops whys she asked for it.

He now feels all the "haters" have been taught a lesson by him winning a grammy.

Chris - we didn't hate you because of your lack of musical talent (although everyone from James Brown to Jimi Hendrix will be rolling in their graves if your "talent" merits a Grammy win). We hate you because you are cowardly piece of shit who savagely beats his girlfriend, shows no regret and even tries to blame her for the incident. A Grammy doesn't undo that. Repeatedly expressing remorse, regret and seeking forgiveness in a humble and very public manner MAY go some way towards redeeming you. A little metal horn on a piece of wood does not.

And for those girls who have been popping up all over twitter recently saying they'd let Chris Brown "beat" them.....this is what he did - this is, verbatim, the police report.

This is what was read out in court. This is what he pleaded guilty to.

This is what Chris Brown did to Rihanna (aka Robyn F.):

"Brown was driving a vehicle with Robyn F. as the front passenger on an unknown street in Los Angeles. Robyn F. picked up Brown's cellular phone and observed a three-page text message from a woman who Brown had a previous sexual relationship with.

"A verbal argument ensued and Brown pulled the vehicle over on an unknown street, reached over Robyn F. with his right hand, opened the car door and attempted to force her out. Brown was unable to force Robyn F. out of the vehicle because she was wearing a seat belt. When he could not force her to exit, he took his right hand and shoved her head against he passenger window of the vehicle, causing an approximate one-inch raised circular contusion.

"Robyn F. turned to face Brown and he punched her in the left eye with his right hand. He then drove away in the vehicle and continued to punch her in the face with his right hand while steering the vehicle with his left hand. The assault caused Robyn F.'s mouth to fill with blood and blood to splatter all over her clothing and the interior of the vehicle.

"Brown looked at Robyn F. and stated, 'I'm going to beat the sh-- out of you when we get home! You wait and see!' "

The detective said "Robyn F." then used her cell phone to call her personal assistant Jennifer Rosales, who did not answer.

"Robyn F. pretended to talk to her and stated, 'I'm on my way home. Make sure the police are there when I get there.'

"After Robyn F. faked the call, Brown looked at her and stated, 'You just did the stupidest thing ever! Now I'm really going to kill you!'

"Brown resumed punching Robyn F. and she interlocked her fingers behind her head and brought her elbows forward to protect her face. She then bent over at the waist, placing her elbows and face near her lap in [an] attempt to protect her face and head from the barrage of punches being levied upon her by Brown.

"Brown continued to punch Robyn F. on her left arm and hand, causing her to suffer a contusion on her left triceps (sic) that was approximately two inches in diameter and numerous contusions on her left hand.

"Robyn F. then attempted to send a text message to her other personal assistant, Melissa Ford. Brown snatched the cellular telephone out of her hand and threw it out of the window onto an unknown street.

"Brown continued driving and Robyn F. observed his cellular telephone sitting in his lap. She picked up the cellular telephone with her left hand and before she could make a call he placed her in a head lock with his right hand and continued to drive the vehicle with his left hand.

"Brown pulled Robyn F. close to him and bit her on her left ear. She was able to feel the vehicle swerving from right to left as Brown sped away. He stopped the vehicle in front of 333 North June Street and Robyn F. turned off the car, removed the key from the ignition and sat on it.

"Brown did not know what she did with the key and began punching her in the face and arms. He then placed her in a head lock positioning the front of her throat between his bicep and forearm. Brown began applying pressure to Robyn F.'s left and right carotid arteries, causing her to be unable to breathe and she began to lose consciousness.

"She reached up with her left hand and began attempting to gouge his eyes in an attempt to free herself. Brown bit her left ring and middle fingers and then released her. While Brown continued to punch her, she turned around and placed her back against the passenger door. She brought her knees to her chest, placed her feet against Brown's body and began pushing him away. Brown continued to punch her on the legs and feet, causing several contusions.

"Robyn F. began screaming for help and Brown exited the vehicle and walked away. A resident in the neighborhood heard Robyn F.'s plea for help and called 911, causing a police response. An investigation was conducted and Robyn F. was issued a Domestic Violence Emergency Protective Order."

At the end of his statement, Andrews said Brown sent a text message nine days later apologizing"

Tell me that piece of shit deserves to be celebrated simply because he can "sing" (with a little help from auto-tune) material written for him by other people and he can't even play a musical instrument.

Monday, 19 December 2011

A firm of bailiffs who specialise in forced evictions and repossessions have sent the company I work for a Christmas card in the hope of getting business from us. My firm doesn't do work that would require their services so I am baffled why they would send it to us (we are more likely to be helping people with debt problems) - but the card itself left me speechless (briefly of course, back in ranting gear again).
It shows three people 'disguised' as Carol Singers trying to batter a front door down, with a large Christmas tree, whilst two people appear to peek nervously from behind the curtains. The bailiffs are clearly labelled as such and on the front door is a handwritten note saying "No Carol Singers...or XXXX Bailiffs". XXXX being the name of this firm of suckbags.
In the background is a passer-by grinning at the scene of forced eviction taking place and another passer-by grinning and saying "Well, they should've complied".
Where do I start.....
1. The joke doesn't even work you fucking morons. If they have a sign saying no bailiffs OR CAROL SINGERS - why "disguise" yourself as carol singers? Because you are stupid idiots? Is that the message?
No - I know the message is you are tough and resourceful and get the job done, but that "joke" doesn't work because only idiots would disguise themselves as carol singers to get someone to answer the door when there is a sign on the door saying "no carol singers".
2. You heartless, soulless, money-grabbing arseholes. You are making fun of people losing their homes at Christmas in order to make your card seem humourous. You think the average Joe in the street would grin at the sight and have a "Well, serves them right" attitude. We are in a recession and you are making a profit from people's misery. Ok - I deplore what you do but I accept that you do it for a living and it is none of my business.....BUT - to joke about it? You utter pricks.
Do vivisectionists send comedy Christmas cards showing rabbits being blinded with chemicals in a supposedly humourous way? Of course not.
I cannot fathom on what level someone functions that they think this is funny or suitable for a Christmas card. OR that you even think it would drum up business? I know firms who do need to use the services of bailiffs at times and they (from the few I know) see it as a necessary but unpleasant part of the job. Their morals aside...I can't see any of them wanting to glorify that part of the job or receive a card gloating about people BEING MADE HOMELESS AT CHRISTMAS.
You despicable wastes of oxygen. I hope your firm goes bust and there are bystanders laughing at you when your home is repossessed you money-grabbing filth. I shall pass the offending card to the two firms I know who do use bailiffs pointing out what an ugly sense of humour you have and imploring them to never use your services. If I can persuade even one firm to sack you and use a different firm it will be a wonderful irony seeing as it all stems from your card sent out to drum up business.
Have a shitty Christmas, lots of love, Dewie

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Best Records I Got Since Last Christmas

On the basis that approximately none people care, but I like making lists and am obsessive about music, I decided to do a top 20 albums for 2011. Rather than spending ages assessing comparative creative worth of different styles of music or agonising deeply over the relative merits of each, I simply put together a list of the 20 albums I played most frequently this past 12 months (in order of frequentlyness).

And then I added 5 more because I am incapable of being concise.

1. Turbid North - Orogeny
2. Machine Head - Unto The Locust
3. Anthrax - Worship Music
4. Fair To Midland - Arrows & Anchors
5. Alice Cooper - Welcome 2 My Nightmare
6. Vader - Welcome To The Morbid Reich
7. Cormorant - Dwellings
8. Vektor - Outer Isolation
9. Ana Kefr - Burial Tree
10. Skindred - Union Black

11. D-A-D - Dic.Nii.Lan.Daft.Erd.Ark

12. Devin Townsend Project - Deconstruction
13. While Heaven Wept - Fear Of Infinity
14. The Black Dahlia Murder - Ritual
15. Decapitated - Carnival Is Forever
Vomitory - Opus Mortis VIII
17. Benighted - Asylum Cave
18. Hammers Of Misfortune - 17th Street
19. Vallenfyre - A Fragile King
20. Opeth - Heritage

Special mentions:
Black Widow - Sleeping With Demons
Trivium - In Waves
Mastodon - The Hunter
Edguy - Age Of The Joker
Devin Townsend Project - Ghost

Someone will now remind me of a crucial album (that I have no doubt listened to loads) but have forgotten because I have done this list hurriedly and late at night.

Thank you for reading this. I am sorry you have wasted three minutes of your life.

Friday, 5 November 2010



Goes on for weeks

There's a family across the road from us who have been standing in their garden for TWO HOURS watching rocket after rocket go up and go BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG continuously.

No pretty flashes - just deafening bangs.

How retarded are you? To be impressed by loud bangs repeatedly for two hours. Jesus - I could hit them repeatedly with a hammer around the head and it would have a similar effect.

Then we'd all be happy

Friday, 1 October 2010

Second Extract From The Journal Of Gant Ericsson

It hit me very hard in the face. The Frisbee that is.

As I stood in the park enjoying the warm weather and admiring the delightful sight of two dogs fucking, I was knocked back as it whistled into my face cracking hard on the bridge of my nose.

I staggered back and felt blood began to trickle down onto my top lip. It was a bit like the time I pointed out to one of the doormen at a club in Worcester that, no, I wasn’t “looking for trouble” - I genuinely had slept with his mother once and paid for the privilege. I was merely commenting on the quality and value she provided and hoped he would pass on my regards as it was some years since I had seen her.

As the pain began to rise from my nose into my forehead I began laughing. I’m not sure why, but I laughed quite intensely.

I carried on laughing - harder and harder. The teenagers who owned the Frisbee had begun to approach me to retrieve their toy and check if I was alright, but as my laughter increased in volume they started to slowly back off.

And then I realised what I had done. Quite by accident of course. It wasn’t the laughter that caused them to back off.

Must remember to put my cock away before going to the park.

It could be misconstrued.

Diary Of Gant Ericsson

I found an old notebook at a second hand stall on the market at the end of the Portobello Road in and amongst a tressle table load of old tat that I am guessing came from a house clearance. It was 25p and I have no idea why it was for sale rather than binned but scrawled inside the hard cover was "My Words" and it appears to be a journal or diary of sorts. You know - before they invented "blogs" - when people wrote it on paper.

I don't know whether he ever intended it to be public or published or shared with a single soul.

I wonder if it is right or wrong for me to even blog about it, but it intrigues me so I have (as best as I can, with the scrawly writing and frequent scribbles and crossing-out of words) typed out some extracts here for you to have a gander at.

Based on the writing on the third page in, his name is (was? I don't know if he is still alive) Gant Ericsson.

These are some of his thoughts:

People say they recycle. But they don’t do it properly.

Sure, they recycle newspapers, cans, bottles - some even mulch their food scraps and tea-bags in a compost bin. But they don’t make use of everything they can.

They don’t recycle themselves.

I’ve been recycling myself for approximately four years now.

Much of our body is wasted and we can re-use our own by-products to great effect.

I shave my head and beard every seven weeks and have done so since I began my bodily recycling programme. So far I’ve stuffed eight pillows, two cushions and am halfway towards my first duvet.

My ear wax has been collected in pots and provided several large candles in a rather attractive earthy orange/dark brown speckled finish.

If ever I find myself sobbing uncontrollably, I collect my tears in a small jug and use it to water the Aspidistra on the window sill. Much of my wallpaper is affixed with mucus. Unfortunately this does mean I can only put one strip up every six to eight weeks.

Toe-nail and finger-nail clippings are kept in a large Tupperware tub in the garage. I haven’t determined what I shall use them for yet.

Now, it may seem unsavoury to some but in my flat there's a bucket instead of a toilet. Some of the faecal matter I collect is dried and used in the stove and the rest is used as fertiliser for the garden.

The human body produces so many useful substances from every region, but by far the most versatile has to be the penis - which regularly produces two entirely different substances which most people simply waste.

People may say it’s somewhat unpleasant to collect and keep my penile fluids - and they may be right. But every visitor that’s ever been to my flat comments on my home made lava lamp.

Football Match

"You're goin 'ome in a fackin' ambulance" they chanted.

I scoffed...."Surely, you foul and foolish young fellows, I would be going to hospital, not home, if I were indeed in an ambulance. Your daft little ditty makes no sense - if you actually took the time to think about it".

The stabbing I got in response did however result in me going in an ambulance shortly thereafter.



How I laughed as I proved them wrong.

Pink Or Brown

We had an argument the other day as to what was the best colour.

Yes, we had been drinking and no, it wasn't actually a debate as to our favourite colour but a debate as to which colour reflects the largest number of things that are awesome.

An early nomination was pink: boobs, fannies, strawberry milkshake....erm - and that was about it.

I scoffed at the suggestion and went straight for brown.

Booze is brown. Yes - all the best booze is bronze, nutty or amber. Rich bourbon, fine cognac, peaty single malt whisky, real's all brown. Even Pimms is brown - which I know is a girl's drink and/or a toff's drink but it is quite nice with all that fruit and bits of nettles or whatever they put in it.

Chocolate is brown. That's a pretty heavy candidate for brown being the best colour right there.

Nuts are brown.

Leather is brown.

Mud is brown. The very earth that gives life to all plants and in turn to all living creatures is brown.

Coffee - oh sweet caffeinated boiling (well, ideally 90 degrees celsius and no hotter) nectar - how brown you are.

Tobacco - very brown and very lovely. Of course.

I could go on.

The Torrent Of Blah Continues Unabated

2007 saw the bullshit factory that is my brain continuing production at a steady rate with consistent levels of juvenility and impotent rage.

In 2008 more stuff fell out of my mind onto a keyboard and got soaked up by the internet.

In 2009 I still had the occasional thought that had no particular relevance to anything nor any great importance - yet I still had the audacity to think it may be worth posting it on a blog in case someone who has run out of things to do or indeed reasons to live has exhausted all possibilities for mental stimulation and decided to be one of few lost souls who venture onto this page.

Now it's 2010 and I have found the Twitter where I can spew my mind-dung more quickly into the consciousness of strangers. Still, I occasionally have something I need more than 140 characters to sum up. Occasionally....

Saturday, 19 December 2009


Well the government has today announced they will definitely ban this "Dance Drug" due to increasing pressure after a person died from using it. A person. Singular.


Any death is a tragedy but more people die from allergic reactions to aspirin for feck's sake. Why do we have to ban everything just because some fool kills themselves with it. What is GBL? It's not a 'dance drug'.

It's paint stripper. It is designed for cleaning alloy wheels, removing superglue and thinning paint. That's what most sane people use it for.

So, some bright spark dilutes it and markets it as a drug and some poor medical student dies from drinking it. One wonders how smart someone is if they are either (a) knowingly drinking paint stripper or (b) drinking some unkown chemical someone has given them without knowing what it is.

Either way - what is the point in banning it? Are we going to ban every solvent and chemical on the shelves in B&Q in case some tool drinks it and dies? Are we going to ban every single thing known to humanity that, if misused, can prove fatal? Why not ban cars and matches and hammers whilst we're at it?

I know the argument is "because it's legal people think it's safe" - and therefore making it illegal will stop people from thinking that, but that simply doesn't hold water. It is down to the ignorance of people who decide to take a "drug" not knowing what it is or the potential consequences that causes deaths. A little publicity as to the risks is sensible but banning it is pointless. All it means is that governement legislative time and money is used up when it could be better spent on passing useful laws (bearing in mind the limited amount of bills that can be passed in any parliamentsary session).

Still we believe making it illegal is the answer. After all ecstasy, heroin and cocaine were all made illegal many many years ago and nobody has taken any of those drugs ever since have they?

I Was Completely In The Daaaaark.......

(title sung in Bob Mortimer voice a la 'Man With The Stick')

So they installed a smart new 'bathroom' at work. No bath, obviously, just toilets. I used the gents and all seems fine and dandy and rather pristine. As you walk in there is total darkness due to the energy saving automatic light sensors. The fluorescent bulb flickers into life a split second after you enter and one can then empty the bladder illuminated in the bright white glow.

However, I used one of the stalls for the first time today. It soon became apparent that the sensors for the lights

(a) switch the lights off after approximately 3 minutes if no movement is detected; and
(b) they are located near the urinals but there are none with any detection range over the stalls

Trust me - I moved as much as I could in the circumstances. I was flapping my arms and waving a loo roll streamer in the air, all to no avail.

Without wishing to be graphic, I couldn't feasibly emerge from the stall at that point, but couldn't really proceed with the task in hand in pitch darkness either.

Solution: after a little pondering I rolled up a ball of loo roll and tossed it over the door towards the wall.


I thought maybe it was too small or light so chucked my wallet over instead (pondered chucking my phone as was running out of ideas - wallet seemed less likely to damage on impact).


Later contacted the contractors who confirmed the sensor cannot be set to cover the stalls, but the timer can be changed to shut off after 3, 5, 7 or 11 minutes. So perhaps need to do a straw poll amongst male colleagues tomorrow. I will suggest 7 mins should be fine.

I mean - who needs any longer than that to have a wank anyway?

More Nonsense

In 2009 I posted less shite but was still yelling my strange notions into the cavernous void that is the worldwide web - here be some of it...

Monday, 2 November 2009

More Bloggage

So - the posts below were the mindshite I thinked up in the year of last year (2008). I shall cut and paste the 2009 stuff onto this here bit of the internet soon.

Saturday, 31 October 2009

Your Dog Doesn't Know It's Christmas

Greetings Card companies are always looking for smart new ways to get more money out of us by inventing new reasons to send cards. After all - the greetings card was designed in days gone by when you wouldn't see so many people at Christmas or on their birthday or wedding anniversary and so you would send your greetings in a card, via the miracle of the fledging Royal Mail.

Nowadays with the wonders of cars, trains, planes, bikes and rollerblades we see each other more frequently and more easily and have text messages, email, phone calls, facebook, twitter and Jesus H Gates knows what else.

So why do we still send cards? More perversely - I have found myself handing greetings cards to people. "Happy Christmas! :-) Here's your card" ......which says "Happy Christmas" in it and then, ludicrously, is signed to demonstrate that it is indeed me that is wishing you that.

Valentines cards were always there to send an anonymous message of love or admiration to the one you longed for - secretly and subtly. Now we are supposed to send them to our partners, spouses and girlfriends. "Be My Valentine?" - "Erm, well, I already agreed to be your wife - do you remember - that day in 1999 when you said "I Do" in the church and then got horribly drunk and danced like a giddy toddler to A-ha in the hotel bar - so I think I have already 'agreed' to something a little more binding so perhaps the idea of being your valentine is a little redundant?".

Oh, you're so unromantic, folk will say.

Bollocks I say. My other half gets flowers, gifts, surprises and affection - but do you know what - it happens spontaneously and more than once a year and not just because Clintons remind me it's February 14th so I'd better buy her some chocs and a vile glittery card to tell her I love her in the most insincere way possible (ie with someone else's words in a twee verse inside the card rather than my own words, spoken to her directly).

Well, they have successfully turned that into a money spinner and now they have Fathers' Day. Never used to exist. Mothering Sunday did (never involved cards either) and they turned that into a money spinner too. Well done Hallmark, Andrew Brownsword et al.

Nothing wrong with these particular days being celebrated (I think Hallmark have invented Grandparents Day too) but can't you just get these people a nice gift and tell them you love them and how much they mean to you face to face or over the phone - from the heart.

Well......with all these avenues successfully explored how else do the card companies increase their market? seems the solution is to increase the pool of people to whom you send cards. And by people I mean pets.

Yes, you can now get Christmas Cards that say "To The Dog" or "To The Cat" on the front. They have them in WH Smiths and Clintons (other card shops are available), but why would you?!?

With all the other nonsense I have listed above we are wasting several million trees each year - but now they urge you to 'send' or 'give' a card to your dog!?! You may as well show him the local delivery pizza menu that dropped through your letterbox whilst patting him on the head and giving him a bit of turkey for all the difference it will make to his understanding that you are wishing him a Merry Christmas.

Finally, I must add that, not content with this travesty, Smiths also have "Merry Christmas From The Dog". Yes, you read that correctly.

A card for you to buy your insipid spouse or stupid children and sign it, no doubt, with a crudely drawn felt-tip doggy paw-print as a signature and the whole family can pretend that Bullseye sent a card to wish you all Seasons Greetings.

If you are in that last category may I strongly recommend you re-assess your life choices.

Merry Christmas.

DANCEOPHILIA 2008's the event of the year - back to the heady days of the 90's crazy dancefests. This is DANCEOPHILIA 2008:

Hosted by



The State Of Our Press

The Headlines following Max Mosley proving in court that yet another newspaper story is based on lies and bullshit and they just hope he's too embarrassed to challenge it in court:

Daily Mail: What Price Morality?

The Sun: Freedom Gets A Spanking!

Daily Telegraph: Mosley Ruling Means Adultery Can Be Kept Secret

Perfect. They couldn't be more predictable. The Mail pretends it's about sexual morals, The Sun pretends it's about freedom (erm, yeah - after all the headlines about supporting 42 day detention without trial you're clearly very pro-freedom) and The Torygraph goes for the poor wife angle.

The lowlifes that fill our daily rags with sensationalist nonsense and non-stories about non-celebs are smarting from the kicking and just can't have the good grace to admit they went too far and try to pull back a little with their invasion of people's privacy.

The judge said "Anyone indulging in sexual activity is entitled to a degree of privacy - especially if it is on private property between consenting adults". Isn't it sad that a judge actually has to spell that out and it's not already a basically understood principle by all.

If I want to indulge in some cakefarting in the privacy of my own shed, that's no-ones business but mine.

Rant over.

Are Women Too Sensitive

For reasons I won't bore you with three of us at work move between offices so a temporary profile had to be set up for us on the computers in our city office so we'd need a different logon and password to the ones we use on our other computers. The new logon was set by the IT guy who has to put the new password in - we don't get to choose. He is a nice bloke and has a decent sense of humour.

So - the other two staff are female and he decided to pick something random but cute and drew inspiration from a nearby wildlife calendar. He chose "penguin" and "panda".

He spoke to me today and told me that the girl who he picked 'penguin' for immediately got offended and asked if it was a dig about the size of her nose? He was bemused and apologised and said it was nothing like that and she hasn't even got a big nose - it was just a random word.

The girl who he picked 'panda' for also got offended as soon as she found out and asked if he was saying she wore too much eye make up (I'm not kidding). Again he was baffled as to why she would take offence and explained the thought hadn't occurred to him and indeed she didn't wear much make-up at all.

Having unwittingly offended these two women he then told me my password.

He then pointed out that he was amused by the contrast that when I was told my password, which he'd set up for a laugh, I just went "Fair enough. Cheers!" and made no complaint at all.

My password was "c-nt".

Shed Boat Shed

Well, I clearly missed out on this one didn't I?!

Not that I normally make a point at looking out for which heap of tosh has won the Turner art prize, but I have recently seen Simon Starling on TV and became aware of his "work".

Shed boat shed. I can barely begin to describe it, I'm that angry. It makes my urine boil.

He got a shed, turned it upside down and rowed it down a river and then put it in a gallery as a shed again.

And that's art! What a cock.

Well, for my next piece (and I hope to win the £25,000 prize) I intend to present Turd Breakfast Turd. You see, first I get a turd and put it on a plate, then.......

Radio One

I have just come across a group of people moaning about Jo Whiley, Chris Moyles, "Comedy" Dave etc and debating which one is worse and complaining about how terrible they are. What do you expect?

Complaining about the poor quality of what you hear when you choose to listen to Radio 1 is like complaining you don't like the taste when you choose to eat a small cup of cold sick.

Haven't you people got cd players?

Valentines Card

So I find myself in some godawful card shop being forced by misrepresented convention to waste money on more ex-trees that have been pulped, turned into card, folded and have some hideously un-romantic pap written on them (Valentines Cards were designed for sending a secret message to someone you long for, not to make blokes pretend to be romantic by doing something as predictably cheesey and stupid as buy their other half some roses and then carry on being thoughtless and unromantic the rest of the year).

I see a card with a 'cute' little monster on the front with wobbly eyes and a verse inside (because god forbid we ever actually bother to write our own words and bother to express our love for another - much easier to let a stranger who works for Hallmark do it for us) along the lines of "Your eyes are really sexy....your body's really hot...." and then on the back it said - I kid you not - "Contains small parts. Not suitable for children under 3 years old".

Well thanks for that. Presumably you do a different range of Valentines Cards with sexually provocative verses inside but without small parts on that I can give to a three year old!?

More Stuff From My Original Blog

2007 saw the bullshit factory that is my brain continuing production at a steady rate with consistent levels of juvenility and impotent rage.

In 2008 more stuff fell out of my mind onto a keyboard and got soaked up by the internet

Here it is......

Tuesday, 28 July 2009

Big Issue

I forgot to mention - when I was in town doing my Christmas shopping I purchased The Big Issue (please do the same - too many miserable buggers walk past and won't cough up a couple of quid) and as I did the guy said to me - honest to god - "Great. Cheers mate. That's me last one - I can go home now".

Mate - you really need to sort out your sales pitch.

EDITED TO ADD: Thank you for your comments but no I didn't see Jimmy Carr doing this gag. This is not a gag. It actually happened. He's the Big Issue seller with the long hair who has a dog who usually stands outside Waterstones in Birmingham just down from the Bull Ring.

Christmas Shopping

Well all the adverts for shit on the telly and the subtle hints from idiots I live/work/socialise with as to what they want for Christmas makes me think it must be time for the annual horror that is "Christmas Shopping" or as I prefer to call it - buying crap for people because you feel obligated to based on a religious festival they don't even believe in.

So - I get wrapped up warm and drive into the city centre and queue for half an hour to travel the last quarter mile into the very centre. I then spend another half hour queueing to get into the multi-storey car park which is bursting with stupid people-carriers (everyone used to manage with a simple estate or even a saloon when they had kids back in the 80's) and us fools who weren't up at the crack of dawn and have got here at noon are waiting for each car to come out before another one is let in.

Eventually I park and get out and fight my way through the throngs of noisy, grubby, shellsuit-clad gobshites who are utterly incapable of noticing anything other than what it directly in front of them and therefore have to mash everyone else's shins with their bags of cheap plastic crap from Argos as they bumble off towards KFC for their bargain bucket lunch.

I finally make it to a trendy little "cafe" which serves all manner of different coffees with all manner of chocolate/toffee/milk variations.

And internet access.

After twenty minutes my coffee is finished and,, and somewhere else - I think it was - have sorted all my Christmas shopping.

Like all those smug buggers in your workplace who always tell you their Christmas shopping is no problem as they do it online - I do too, but I do it properly because I'm hardcore. I go through all the hassle to get the presents even though I shop online.

A Christmas present is only any good if the person went through hell to get it for you.

Album Review: Metallica - In Darkness

Metallica return with a humdinger of an album recorded entirely in the key of H.

It is a new key they invented whilst in a particularly protracted group therapy session. James was busy not drinking in one corner whilst Lars yelled into a small Brabantia pedal bin about how misunderstood he was and Kirk looked on bemused as he couldn’t fathom why no-one had sussed he’s been playing the same rubbish solo for all these years.

Fortunately this album is as heavy as ever albeit we cannot hear an ounce of the rhythm being provided by the insanely talented [insert name of current bass player].

Whilst it’s not interesting in any way - it’s certainly worthy of note that all eleven songs on this masterpiece were written.

The cover art concept is brilliant - combining a picture of some sort with the name of the band (and the album title) - written in actual words - across the bottom bit of it, sort of in the middle.

Having said all that this album has a sort of menacing swagger and it leaves you unsure whether to adore it or hide in the shed and tell no tales. The riffs fly at you like those freaky monkey things in the Wizard Of Oz. Christ those things used to sh*t me up big time. What kind of weirdo puts that in a kids' film?

Anyway - where was I? Oh yes - riffs - it's got lots of those. Fast ones AND slow ones and some that change halfway through.

Did I leave the oven on?

Sorry - the album - yes - it's er....Metallica really. It is beige metal of the very shiniest order and the lyrics are about stuff and the drums are there too.

In short you should buy it because you are 38 and think you still rock, but actually you have two kids and a Mondeo estate and spend more time listening to Teletubbies and the Tweenies than any other music and so by comparison it still seems cutting edge. Goodnight.

Bonfire Night

Except it isn't a "night" any more is it? It's a f**king month! Why do so many people have to let fireworks off every frigging night and what is the fascination? Surely the novelty wears off eventually. One night a year it's cool (maybe two - Divali is usually a good night) but every night for four weeks is just pathetic. Get a life.

There's a family across the road from us who have been standing in their garden for TWO HOURS watching rocket after rocket go up and go BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG continuously.

TWO hours???!!?!?

No pretty flashes - just deafening bangs. For TWO hours!!!

What's wrong with you? Are you swamp creatures? Are you all a bit "backwuds"? To be impressed by loud bangs repeatedly for two hours......Jesus - I could hit them repeatedly with a hammer around the head and it would have a similar effect.

Then we'd all be happy

Trick Or Treat

Trick please…

Come on then you pasty-faced nylon-tracksuit wearing little roaches in your crappy Woolworth's masks thrusting forward your grubby little paws in the expectation of sweets or, more to the point, cash (it seems from the demands of the local 'yoof' in my area) show me your "trick".

You aren't getting a treat from me, this is not America. Demanding money with menaces is not cute. As if there aren't enough of you little sacks of puke letting off fireworks til 3am every night without banging on my front door all frigging night whilst I'm trying to watch a movie after a 12 hour day at work.

So - show me your trick - bearing in mind I have come to the front door in my Halloween costume (DM boots, boiler suit, Voorhees-style hockey mask and large kitchen knife) let's see what you've got???

Hey - come back......

Where are you going?

Ah, the delights of scruffy teens hijacking Halloween to try to raise a few quid.

Hmmmm. Wonder if they'll be back next year.

Oh - and parents - if your kids (and by this I mean young kids who are genuinely going to go "trick or treating" (how can three words be a verb?!!) then have the decency to accompany them on a cold dark night when they are effectively wandering around the neighbourhood knocking on strangers' doors and playing the role of every paedophile's fantasy.

"Hey got any treats for me?"

How about parental supervision.

Wank For Peace

It's quite simple.

There are too many wars, too many pub fights, too much civil unrest, too many arguments. People are always fighting.

We need to do something to promote peace and I thought about a march or a protest or some campaign but that all seems like a great deal of hassle to be honest. However - wanking is something we all do, at least once a day, and it's fun (I assume everyone does do it at least once a day, right?!?). So why not wank for peace?

I suggested this idea to a few people and they said that they couldn't actually see how it would help. None of them questioned my enthusiasm for wanking nor my commitment to peace, but they couldn't see how it would help.

Well, here's how. War is about aggression. Fights start because people have too much pent-up aggression. What better way to release it than a good old fiddle!? These warmongering lunatics are primarily religious types - and their leaders are ususally revered Religious icons. And what do senior religious figures all have in common? They're celibate. They get no sexual release. It all builds up and they get aggressive.

So I say let's all have a wank - everyone - and encourage your friends and family to do it too. Be careful how you phrase it and which of your friends and family you address your comments to or you could have a really awkward meal time.

So - one and all - come forth and come forth - let us wank for peace.

Album Review: Survivor - Fighting To Win

We thought they were long forgotten but Survivor return to prove that we have actually forgotten ourselves - yet they remember all things.

This album is just a stone’s throw from the seminal “Eye of the Tiger” but it’s also miles away - as if it were right at the bottom of a field and you were the other side of the farmhouse, wincing.

The collection of songs on offer are steadfast, good old fashioned rock-by-numbers rock - and you can’t argue with that. But then - Survivor don’t want to argue with you - they want to take you on a trip that is nostalgic, but also modern in a really not nostalgic way.

The contradiction is beautiful and it tickles, with the tracks coming at you one by one like scorned lovers from your past turning up on your doorstep night after night to remind you of your indiscretions and poor table manners. The sound conjures up images of a manatee on a skateboard honking with delight as it ollies its way into all of our hearts and, dare I say it, all of our tomorrows.

Buy this album - if only for the reason that you want to listen to the songs on it. And don’t say I didn’t warn you!
(because I just did - just then, in that last bit)

I Need Answers

1. Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are flat?

2. Why do men believe you when you say there are four billion stars in the sky, but they have to check when you say the paint is wet or the plate is very hot?

3. Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

4. Why do they use sterilised needles for death by lethal injection?

5. Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?

6. Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

7. Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?

8. If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?

9. If it's true that we are here to help others, what are the others doing here?

10. Do married people live longer than single ones or does it only seem longer?

11. If someone with a split personality threatens to commit suicide, is it a hostage situation?

12. What level of importance must a person have, before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

13. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on big suitcases?

14. Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up every two hours?

Some Basic Facts Of Life

1. Cheggars cant be boozers.

2. Laughter's the best medicine. Unless you're asthmatic, and then its ventolin.

3. People who live in glass houses shouldn't....masturbate with the lights on.

4. To avoid a messy divorce, find a woman you really dislike, and give her your house.

5. When your wife/girlfriend asks you to "be totally honest" she doesn't actually mean it. What she meant to say was, "tell me exactly what I want to hear and make it sound convincing."

6. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

7. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff.

8. Don’t go to Nuneaton. It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there.

9. Everyone has at least one great novel in them. Except Dan Brown.

10. Ladies please realise that until a man has slept with you he will not be able to concentrate fully during conversation.

11. DJs - Impress people by learning a real instrument. Alternatively, shut up, take your record-player and f**k off.

12. If you are a necrophiliac sadomasochist who enjoys bestiality, you may as well give it up. You're flogging a dead horse.

13. If at first you don't succeed, pay someone else to do it.

14. Who says men can’t multi-task. What about w@nking and moving the mouse at the same time?

15. There’s no sadder feeling than accidentally leaving your mobile at home all day and then returning to find you have no texts or missed calls.

16. Americans: No, that’s not irony. That’s called a co-incidence. There is a difference.

17. Organised people are just too lazy to look for things.

18. Fat birds & mopeds... both alright for a quick ride, just don't let your mates find out.

19. Never, EVER, mix sleeping pills & laxatives.

20. There are 10 types of people in this world. Those who understand binary and those who don't.

21. The phrase "What are you, some kind of c**t?" can only ever be used as a rhetorical question. Unless you’re at a fancy dress party where the theme is genitalia.

22. A true friend will never say 'I told you so'; they will just pour you a stiff drink and listen.

23. Under no circumstances should two men ever share an umbrella.

24. The one who smelt it dealt it.

25. Tact is for people who aren’t clever enough to take the piss.


Not a bad programme - little documentary about the edges of the country where they meet the sea. Splendid.

The long-haired Scottish fella who presents it is okay too. I'm not about to start a rant about him though. So why am I mentioning him you ask?

It's that bag - that man-bag he carries with him all the time. On screen he always has it with him. Why? TV presenters on location have a team of people who do the camera work, sort the lighting, directing, food, drink etc and a general runner who does all the odds and sods. If the presenter needs stuff - they sort it for him - he doesn't need to carry it round with him in his own little bag.

So why does he carry it? Well.....either he has it for effect - to be a little trendy f**ker and make a fashion statement. However, his kagoul and Marty Pellow haircut would tend to suggest he's not a Hoxton fashion type.

So - the only other reason can's got his special precious stuff in it. There must be a collection of items he holds dear in some sort of weird clingy way - or they're just too secret to let anyone else carry and he needs them at all times.

So what's in the bag? Porn mags and a bag of special toffees and a picture of his childhood sweetheart who is now married to an engineer in Hartlepool? Is it his special hammer for cleaning the streets and some rubber gloves and bleach? Is it the Turin shroud? Is it a large paper bag full of happy pills for when the show gets dull and he needs to boost his enthusiasm levels before the next interview with some bloke pointing at lichen on a rock?

I wish I knew.

Advertising Speak

I like coffee. Not that instant shite - that bears no real relation to coffee.

I like ground coffee beans with hot water on them. Except it's a hassle to make. So I was most pleased to discover coffee bags. Ground coffee - in a bag. Like tea bags!!! Brilliant - easy to use and I'm surprised they haven't been around longer.

Except they are each individually wrapped in a foil packet in a great big box which seems utterly pointless when they could be in a single big foil pack - just a gimmick if you ask me.

Then I noticed the other day what was written on each packet - right next to the tiny little slit.

"Tear here" ? No - that would be too easy.

"Tear here to open" ?- no - far too straightforward.

How about "Tear gently to free your coffee bag"

WTF!?!?! Tear it GENTLY to FREE your coffee bag. What sort of coked-up gonk dreams that stuff up!?! I'm not drinking it any more out of principle because idiots write nonsense on the packets.

Children On Aeroplanes

Please, please, PLEEEEASE...........

If you have children under the age of 4, don't take them on aeroplanes unless you have taught them some form of discipline. Those of us who sensibly choose not to go on long haul foreign trips with small kids have no way of escaping your screaming little shits for several hours you selfish, small-minded fools.

If they are under 12 months old it is hardly their fault if they are crying or whatever - but why take them on a foreign holiday???

When I was little we went to Wales or Cornwall in the car so that our tantrums were only inflicted on our parents who CHOSE to be shut in a form of transport with us.

So - wait til they're over four and not prone to crying/squealing and then you won't ruin the flight for SEVERAL HUNDRED PEOPLE, MANY OF WHOM ARE TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP AND NONE OF WHOM CAN GET AWAY FROM YOUR WAILING LITTLE BANSHEES.

Oh yes - and in the brief time I have spent in two pubs since the smoking ban came in I've noticed that now they are no longer smokey, unhealthy places to be - more parents are bringing their flipping kids into the pub.

Not the big chain, diner-style, happy to have kids there type pubs - but decent proper pint and a game of darts REFUGE FROM THE FAMILY type pubs.

Having a pint should be accompanied by fags, darts and blue jokes, not the screams of children and women glaring at you for swearing because little Milly is nearby doing her colouring in and having a glass of coke.

I don't hate kids - well, actually I do - but isn't it best that they are either
(a) taught to behave; or
(b) not forced by their parents to spend 11 hours on a plane

Trust me - when you're 3 you can have as much fun in Devon as Disney World.

Are You A Rock Star?

No, I didn't think so.

So why are you wearing shades indoors? You sad, deluded tool.

If you were Keith Richards, or Ozzy or Steven Tyler - you could get away with it. But you're not. You're some chav lad with a spiky haircut in a bar who thinks he's it.

Well stop it. Anyone who is not in a band who wears shades indoors is a total and utter arse-wipe.

And so is Bono.

Album Review: John Denver - Doohickey-Doo

John Denver’s latest album pukes out of the speakers and into our homes like the purest statement of intent. “I’m not f**king dead, you lot” he seems to say. Although he doesn’t ever say that.

The album begs the question….but never proffers the answer(s). And therein lies its beauty - albeit a really frustrating beauty whose face you want to scratch with handfuls of straw.

It fills your ears but never involves your eyes or mouth. It’s a collection of words and chords and bits of stuff that sounds like an orchestra of windmills laughing at the notion that Todd Carty could ever have a successful spin-off series from Eastenders when his character is essentially two-dimensional and relies wholly on interaction with characters that are already well-established.

I think that Tony Parsons summed up our loss most succinctly when he wrote the words “Oh you bloody plane you. Bloody bad bloody plane. So much you did rob us of with this dear sweet man whom you took from us”.


Terror Alert! Everyone Panic!

Well, as I went to my place of work today certain civic buildings were coned off so you can't pick up or drop off outside them. Vehicles can pass by down the road as normal, but the bit next to the pavement outside the building is cordoned off.

With the terrorist burning jeep hopeless nonsense that did nothing other than singe the occupants and annoy the airport authorites, I guessed this was related. So I asked the nearby plod "Why is this coned off?"

Reply "To stop people who may be car bombers"

But of course. I should have known that if you are hurtling at high speed towards the entrance of a large civic building in a 4x4 packed with half a ton of explosives, that a row of 18 inch high yellow cones with "Police" written on them will stop the impact.

Why do they bother? Or do they think terrorists are real sticklers for Highway regulations and will think "Well, I was going to park my car outside the council house there and detonate it, but if I were to stop I would be breaching the local parking by-laws and that's n ot what I'm about. No, sir. I'm a law-abiding suicidal maniac intent on murdering dozens of innocent civilians".

Or (and stop me if I'm being cynical here) perhaps it's the government yet again trying to con us into thinking they are doing something useful about the problem by doing something noticeable yet useless.

How about a sensible look at our foreign policy and why it is we keep pissing off half the Muslim population of the world, rather than the sticking-plaster-on-a-severed-limb approach we currently have.

I Want Some Feedback

Not from a Mesa Boogie head with a Gibson SG jammed against it with the volume turned up to 11.......from people on e-bay.

I get something in the post from an e-bay seller and it's all in order and I write nice things on the feedback form because I think that's all very nice.

So.....I end up with two tickets to the Metallica show at Wembley this weekend and I can't go. I flog them (they are front standing tickets - sold out section) on e-bay for a huge profit??

No - Buy It Now - face value and I don't even charge them postage. Some bloke purchases them and I send them First Class recorded delivery and at the same time e-mail him to let him know they have been sent and wishing him a very jolly time at what promises to be a stunning gig.

Nothing. No response, no feedback, nothing.

So I send another e-mail a week later asking politely if he got the tickets? Still nothing.

Before anyone thinks "he may be on holiday" - the gig is this weekend so I doubt it. He gets an absolute bargain for a sold out gig and I e-mail him twice to check he gets the tickets ok and I get no feedback.

What a cock knocker.

Hmm, maybe I should write that on his feedback?

Album Reviews

Someone e-mailed me to ask what the hell I'm on about in my album reviews.

Let me explain briefly..........

I come from a generation that read Melody Maker, NME, Sounds etc and saw the emergence of music journalists as people who thought they had some great literary prowess or poetic turn of phrase. My view is shut up with the bollocks and tell me if the album is any good or not.

I explained that the likes of Paul Morley (and in her day as an NME scribe Julie Burchill) wrote such pretentious bullsh*t that I just gave up on their nonsense and took to reading reviews online. They would use ludicrous epithets, similes and metaphors to describe songs like they were mythical beasts or legendary masterpieces and something more than just - well - a song.

They would also do this really annoying thing of writing "it's as if they're trying to say...." and put their own interpretation on everything. They would suggest that some cheesey pop song was about the struggle of the Suffragettes or neo-classical philosophy when it was actually Lionel Richie singing about Dancing On the F**king Ceiling.

So I decided to write the same sort of thing - as pretentious and surreal and utterly pointless as the real thing. I thought I was getting carried away and just being silly until last week I saw a review by the one and only Paul Morley - of Brian Ferry's album.

I am so jealous. It is more ridiculous, pretentious and mental than anything I have come up with.

Please note - this is EXACTLY word for word as it appears on the liner notes for the CD..........
"Well aware of the lateness of the hour, the brightness of the day and the fullness of time, because ultimately there's no hurry - and a void to fill - the surefooted Ferry heads out into the black colossal brevity of the fourth track. With just the correct amount of transcendent grace he sings the song - which is just a song - and much more than a song, as if to say 'wherever I've been, whoever I've been, whoever I met - and it might have been me, it might have been you - whatever I've seen, whatever happens next - because it means a lot to me....It's been an absolute pleasure' "

Is there a word that's a level up from c**t?


I went to Donington to enjoy the heavy metal festivities and noticed something that seemed to happen every time someone spotted themselves on the big screen as the camera swooped around the audience.

I kept seeing the side view of them as they waved/gurned/stuck their middle finger up. None of them were shown facing forwards. None of them twigged all weekend.


Thank you.

Album Review: The Offspring - Clank

I don’t know how to begin with a summary of the aural pleasures provided by The Offspring’s newest and, let’s be honest, brownest offering.

It immediately snaps at your heels the second you open the case and by the time you put it in your CD player it’s positively foaming at the mouth even though it doesn’t have a mouth in the literal sense.

Press play and fireworks go off like the end of a really lovely party in Nottingham - but be careful. Too many listens and you can find it’s more like a bad, bad accident with a sparkler and a child’s eyes.

This disc is the sound of the younger generation rebelling against the older generation but then reacting back against themselves in an even more rebellious way. It evokes images of rolled up newspapers being used to whack kittens into waste paper baskets like some lunatic croquet match.

And the only way to describe the lyrics is that they fall out of the speakers and prostrate themselves on the floor - demanding to be picked up, chewed and then spat into the face of anyone who dares to wear a uniform or call themselves a ‘citizen’.

This album demands to be heard. And then demands to be put away properly in its case and put back in the right place in your alphabetically arranged CD collection.

No, I Don't Want Fries With That

I know that has been said before (many many times), but McDonalds seem to have learned it's frigging irritating and stopped getting their staff to trot it out like a mantra if you choose not to order fries.

So why is everyone else doing it?

WH Smiths... "Would you like a half price chocolate orange with your magazine?"

"NO - I can see them sitting on the counter right in front of me in a desperate attempt to catch my eye as your stocks are massive and you need to get rid of them but I didn't buy one because I don't want one so just sell me my f**king magazine"

HMV do the same - they insist on offering me a half price dvd from the selection strewn across the counter right in front of me. I'm buying the new Deicide album - do you really think I want a copy of The Santa Clause on dvd?

I know it's what they're told to say by their bosses but come on - think about it - at least pick your target audience properly. Yesterday I was buying some wrapping paper for a birthday present. I stupidly picked the day before Mothers Day when all blokes, true to form, are leaving it to the last minute to buy a card for their Mums and so the queues were enormous.

And EVERY bugger who got to the till was being asked by the grinning fool behind the counter (whilst pointing at a garish, crappy LED in a bit of plastic on her right tit) "Would yer Mum like a flashin badge fer Mothers Day?".

Cunning you see. Not "Would you like?" but "Would your Mum like..." - making you immediately feel more reticent to say "No" as they're asking if your dear old Mum would like an extra gift or are you too tight to pay the extra £3.

Fortunately most people realise their Mothers would be mortified if they had to wear a small piece of yellow plastic that flashes and draws attention to them so sales were not going well. However, what really annoyed me (god knows why) was that they were asking everyone - no matter what they were buying.

If they asked people who were buying Mothers Day cards - that's not so bad - but to ask everyone.....well I felt the need to highlight the pointlessness of their little marketing campaign.

I get to the counter..................."Would your Mum like a flashing badge - only £3????!!!!"

" don't think so. She died last month"

Stunned silence followed by very swift purchase of some wrapping paper.

Comic Relief Ain't Having My Money

Just seen a clip where they are explaining about teenage kids who have gone online and given a complete stranger (slightly saucy) photos of themselves, plus their phone number and home address and guess what - they turned out to be perverts, but their parents weren't monitoring their internet use so they didn't know.

And they want my money to stop it? How about no!!!

You are 14 and have your own PC and need my charity money!?!?!?

If your parents can't be bothered to look after your welfare properly why the f**k should I?

I will give £30 to a childrens charity tonight instead but if a 14 year old girl is THAT stupid and her parents aren't monitoring her activities I have no sympathy (btw - nothing happened to her - they eventually sussed it was some 40 year old nonce). even if I did have sympathy why should I pay money to stop it happening. Can't they sell the dozy kid's PC and give the money to kids in Africa who have no clean source of drinking water? Children In Need should be saving the lives of kids like that not paying for dimwits to go on courses to tell them what their parents should be telling them which is not to post naked pictures of themselves on Facebook!

I despair.

Album Review: Phil Collins - The Fax Of Life

Phil Collins prances back with a ruddy great twat of an album. It’s as gleeful as it is glib and, in many ways, makes you want to f**k something really thoroughly.

It’s as if the 1970’s never happened, but all the other decades happened twice. The songs lurch, leer and fart at us like petulant wasps intent on stinging the only person at the Regatta who’s actually allergic to wasp stings

The wall of bang and fizz that ripples out of the speakers is like the noise of Little Jimmy Krankee ageing as he/she/it begins to realise the hypocrisy of the cabaret circuit and wails longingly into a conch shell that’s been smeared with horse fat.

This album makes fools of us all.

Apparently It's Snowing

Is it just me or has the whole damn country gone mad with the snow thing? How much of the news is going to be taken up with talk of snow? It's not news!!!

Sky even had their helicopter out showing us images of five chavs having a snowball fight on a hillside.

Excuse me, but, er, isn't there a war on and stuff?

The weather IS NOT NEWS. In fact it is SO not news that it even has its own section after the news - called "The Weather". So stop it.

Right now.

Aren’t You Supposed To Have A Gun Or A Knife When You Rob Me?

After all - it would seem more appropriate.

Being a big music fan I go to a lot of gigs. I remember the days when a booking fee was just that - a booking fee. To cover the cost of the people who answered the phone and took the booking. Couple of quid per order.

In the last few years it’s gone from a couple of quid per order, to per ticket an now it’s getting more and more. £5 per ticket for a gig at a major venue recently and then I went online and bought tickets for a big outdoor festival.

£8-50 per ticket booking fee. And I did all the work myself by booking online - nobody took my order or did anything.

Are you trying to get back at the e-bay tossers you singularly fail to combat by making your own extortionate profit on top of the ticket price? Yeah - join in the constant struggle to kill off live music despite a resurgence since the heady days of clubbing, raves and the like almost killed it in most small venues.

Oh and then on top of the booking fee there’s a £1-50 “admin fee”!!!! Is that the bit where the mugger kicks me in the balls AFTER I’ve already handed over my wallet and phone?!?

Still - the P&P was only £4-99 for two small pieces of paper in an envelope.


Ah, Sweet Romance

I was strolling past a rather dim and dodgy pub today - you know the sort - big chain pub in the centre of a big city - full of people drinking dawn til dusk or until their giro money runs out. Not that I’m stereotyping.

Anyway - there was a rather charming poster in the window with the headline “Treat her” underneath which was a picture of two bits of meat cut into heart shapes nestling together.

Underneath it said “Two steaks for £9-99 14th Feb”.


Mind you, I did think perhaps the poster was incomplete and the headline should have had a few more words after “Treat her” - such as “like shit” or “with contempt”.

Nothing says “I love you” better than steak and chips. And what a bargain price too. As long as she pays her half, of course.

E-bay (A Bit Sweary This One I'm Afraid)

C**ts on e-bay that sell tickets. You're all c**ts. F**king c**ts.

Not to put too fine a point on it.

I wanted to go and see David Gilmour last year - the man's a genius. Never seen him or Pink Floyd live.

Could I buy a ticket? No, I f**king couldn't because his entire tour sold out in four and a half f**king seconds because eight tickets were bought by fans and the other 48,000 were bought by c**ts who wouldn't know a Pink Floyd tunes if it f*ked them up the arse but think they can make a quick buck out of it.

So - the genius guitar bloke who I was desperate to see because of his finely crafted work and skill and talent - gets 45 quid per ticket - and another 250 on top goes to some f**king leech with a computer and no life or proper job.

And although I could afford it I refused in principle to pay those prices. And e-bay refuse to do anything about it due to the tidy profit they make.

Eventually managed to get tickets via a friend of a friend, but was incredibly hard and many other people had no such luck. Many other gigs I've wanted to see recently have involved being online and on the phone the second the tickets go on sale frantically calling and hitting refresh on the PC in the vain hope of getting two sh*tty tickets right at the back.

If you sell tickets on e-bay for a profit - EVER - no matter what the reason or how much you need the cash - YOU ARE SCUM. You are living off other people's talent and depriving genuine fans from getting to see their heroes. The richest get to see the good bands, not the keenest fans.

You suck and what goes around comes around.

Aaaaaaand relax.

Public Service Ads

Right - this is genuine and serious. I'm not being flippant or sarcastic and there is no punchline coming.

I went to a bar the other night and there were two poster ads in the gents toilets above the urinals. One showed a woman's groin area - with a "No Entry" sign on her knickers.

The other showed a burly bloke sitting in a prison cell - looking at the camera and said something like "If you don't make sure your partner says "yes" to sex - then the next person who has sex with you may not care if YOU say "yes" or not!!!"

Have we, as a society, (and in particular our binge-drinking youth culture) sunk SO low into a moral rut that we need SIGNS IN THE BOGS AT THE PUB REMINDING US NOT TO RAPE ANYONE?!?!

For f**ks sake. I despair.


Why do people do it? There's always people running near where I live. Not for any reason - not trying to catch a bus or a mugger that's run off with their wallet. Just running along the street, sweating - and usually listening to an i-pod - because clearly they find running boring.

There is no need for it. We can keep fit by playing competitive games. We used to run and there used to be a point to it but surely we have evolved beyond that now that we are civilised modern people!?!

Running was invented for one of two reasons:

1. Something that wanted to eat you was chasing you
2. You were chasing something you wanted to eat

Having seen no sabre-tooth tigers or gazelles in my local high street I figured anyone who does run around the town is probably mental.


Fine - companies spend money on research and development - increasing market share by bringing out new and unique products that are fresh, exciting and innovating, but in the world of savoury snacks this is NOT NECESSARY. Just stop it.

We have Crisps*, Nuts, Pork Scratchings, Twiglets and Mini Cheddars. That's all we need. The 5 basics.

(*includes Wotsits, Quavers, Monster Munch etc)

We then get Scampi Fries and we get Pretzels from USA and Tortilla Chips and Pringles too. Ok - I can live with that.

But it's starting to get silly now - new snack developments that we simply don't need. Pack it in. This isn't the space race - you make cheesey footballs or crispy things to dip in runny things at parties.

For instance Pringles are introducing Pringles Prints - crisps with facts and trivia printed on them. FFS.

It would now seem the Pringle will be smarter than the person eating it.

And then America's answer to Cheesey snacks - Cheez-It have another new development, namely "Twisterz". If you click the link you will see they are a new snack that combines TWO flavours for a unique taste sensation.

Two flavours? TWO?

We all see these days how the main political parties become more and more marginalised and new "Single Issue" parties spring up such as UKIP and The Green Party and the Respect Coalition etc, but they don't get enough votes to have any sway or catch the attention of enough of the electorate.

If we started a Snacks and Pop Regulation Party aimed at bringing in stricter guidelines for manufacturers we'd have the whole country behind us.

"Do you want to know our stance on Iraq? Or PFI? Or Education reforms? We haven't f**king got one. No stance - no policy. Not even a vaguely quotable opinion. But we'll sure as shit stop them fannying about making new types of crisps, adding aspartame to pop and taking the E-numbers out of Tizer" (Really pisses me off that does - Tizer was just artificial flavours and colours dissolved in sugary water - it's pointless without them).

We'd be voted in with a landslide majority. Come on people - these are the REAL issues that affect our day-to-day lives. They stopped making Wispa bars and re-branded them as Dairy Milk Bubbly in a normal chunks-bar-type product. They changed Opal Fruits to "Starburst". They changed Marathon to "Snickers". Jif is now "Cif".

Are we gonna stand for this shit or are we going to march on Westminster declaring "No more innovations in snacks (and bathroom mousse cleaning agents) and fizzy pop" ???

After 2006 comes...

2007 saw the bullshit factory that is my brain continuing production at a steady rate with consistent levels of juvenility and impotent rage. Read on, upwards and upwards, you masochist you.

That Was 2006

The posts below are the sum total of the nonsense I dribbled onto the interweb in 2006 (well, the last couple of months actually - I only started my ramblings in October).


Tim, that is.

He is such a terrible fake and so dreadfully lame and genuinely doesn't seem to appreciate that he is about as cool as Fonzie.

No - correct that - Fonzie is much cooler. Westwood's about as cool as the Chuckle Brothers.

In a recent issue of Q Magazine he surpassed himself in new levels of pretentious white middle aged, middle class tool trying to sound "gangsta". He was asked about his current favourite tune which he said was a remix of Soul Survivor by Akon...............

"As a club DJ - I rock bangers that create crazy excitement in the party. The original was a hood classic so they made me a 'special' - a revoiced version dedicated to me. Sh*t is straight banging! Trap music meets J.A. shottas. It's an ugly situation."

That made me so angry I had to set fire to an old lady. And her dog.

Now look what you've made me do Timothy!

What a cock.

Album Review: Terence Trent D'Arby - Rock-A-Bye

My word! Terence Trent D'Arby slams back like a greased fist - with an album that provokes us into a vertical position and never lets up until it’s done.

Once again he’s proving that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you can teach someone else’s two-year-old child to say “Vulva” at breakfast.

The pieces of music that form this round platter snuggle up against one another so tightly it’s as if they’re second cousins who are worryingly close in a ‘not-illegal-but-may-produce-web-toed-children’ kind of way.

The ear is treated to a lilting brace of melodies that remind you of the sounds heard the first time you ventured secretly into the abattoir to see where Uncle Maurice worked only to find him with his arm entirely inside a dead lamb, as if it were a glove puppet, wanking himself off with its lifeless jaws.

And this means only one thing - Mr. D'Arby has yet again set the standard for modern soul music just like James Brown and Sir Edward Heath before him.

If you only buy one album this year, then buy this one. But if you buy two, then get The Kooks and The Feeling. And just borrow this off a mate or get a tape of it or something.

Glitter On Christmas Cards

I have now got to the point where this year - any card I get with glitter on goes straight in the bin, regardless of who sent it. It's mainly work colleagues and of those it's usually girls, but family ones will be binned too. Can't even recycle them ladies! Tut tut. If you're a bloke sending cards with glitter on you need a slap anyway.

So - for those people who send me cards with glitter on - f**king stop it you dozy gits. It gets everywhere! It's a huge pain in the arse and it should be banned.

The second I get a card and feel that rustly glittery feel I begin to get annoyed - even before I've opened it. It's usually got bits of glitter on the outside of the envelope anyway as the idiot who sent it will have glitter all over their hands.

It ends up on my hands and on my suit and it won't wash off - sticks like a batstard. Before you know it you've rubbed your eye or scratched your nose and it's on your face.

Thank you very cocking much! I look great at work speaking to my boss with glitter on my face and suit. What am I supposed to say?

"Sorry boss, I'm being festive"

And don't even get me started on the stupid amount of bows and ribbons and shit people put on presents.

Give it me in a f**king bag or some cheap wrapping paper and spend the extra £5 you wasted on ribbons and bows on getting me a decent f**king present next time you twat.

Merry Christmas btw.

Christmas Present For My Missus

Never know what to get her.

This year I thought I'd try something different and original: Vouchers for a boob job!

Nothing wrong with the size - they’re perfect.

There should just be more of them.

I mean, 3 would be cool, but 4 would be ACE!!! An extra one in the middle and then a spare round the back between her shoulder blades.

Album Review: Jean Michel Jarre - Futurisme

Jean Michel-Jarre returns like a stealthy goat with a whole hour of mindhurting electronic wob-wobba. The album dares you to like it and then demands that you ignore its inconsistencies. Yet it never touches you in a bad way or rifles through your pockets.

The music cannot be described simply as music because it goes beyond, and in many ways, underneath that. It’s a fruit-bowl of musical notes and………well……more musical notes.

The overall effect of the album is as if you were violated wrongly in the bum after eleven glasses of Absinthe laced with Rohypnol at a Christmas party then awakened with the acrid smell of smoke as your car burned furiously next to a disused sporting goods warehouse and children looked on wondering if you were Santa Claus or just some homeless with a collection of Commonwealth flags in a shopping trolley.

The whole thing just beggars belief - but you know it’ll gatecrash your party and never go home again. Ah - sweet poetry.

Hair Conditioner

What the hell is that all about then????

Hair cleaner - yes. That's fine.

It's called shampoo - it makes perfect sense - and when I have my monthly shower I use some to get the flies and birdshit out of my barnet.

However my missus tricked me by putting a very similar bottle in the shower - right next to the shampoo. So I splash a load on my head won't lather and it's really oily and takes twenty minutes to rinse it out. And it makes my skin feel greasy too so I have to wash myself again.

And what are its benefits? It gives my hair "body and shine" apparently.

Well thank you very f**king much L'Oreal for that body and shine I have been apparently missing for the last 30 years. My hair is now so full of body I can't get my helmet on and was about to go for a ride on my motorbike.

So, my hair which normally looks something like this...........

(that's not actually me btw)

Now looks like THIS


Idiots At Gigs

Why are you videoing it on your mobile phone? You utter, utter, utter twats.

The sound will be rubbish - the picture is pointless as it is just a blur of flashing lights - and it's only 250 by 250 pixels. It is as pointless as you are you depressingly obsessive nob-ends. Standing throughout the gig with your arm aloft - looking at your phone's screen, not the stage, and blocking other people's view whilst missing out on the reason for being there - to jump around, mosh, sing, clap, dance and generally enjoy the moment and be part of it.

You are trying to capture it for posterity but don't actually enjoy the spectacle whilst you are there. What a lovely memento of the night you stood there like a lemon holding a phone in the air. Oooh, put it on facebook!

If you ever ended up in a situation where you got a naked girl in your bed (unlikely, I know) would you just video her on your phone rather than actually having sex? Result - you're still a virgin but at least you can look at a tiny image of her naked body any time you want and send it to your friends. Sorry - "friend".

You sad no-lifers really should stay at home and watch some grainy footage on Youtube because more and more of us real fans are getting sick and tired of you bumbling around trying to record everything and the next time you're in the pit it won't just be your Nokia that gets broken.

A Certain Store Selling Car Accessories That Shall Remain Nameless For Legal Reasons

So I went into Halfords yesterday and asked if they could help me because my car battery wasn't working. Here follows the (slightly paraphrased, I admit) conversation:

Halfords man: Can I help you sir?

Me: I very much doubt it

Halfords man: Pardon?

Me: Nothing. I need a battery cos mine is broken.

Halfords man: Broken?

Me: Yes - as in "not working"

Halfords man: In what way is it not working, sir?

Me: It's making my car not start

Halfords man: Really...

Me: Yes - which is a bit awkward as it means I now cannot drive my car. And I bought my car mainly for driving.

Halfords man: Are you sure it's the battery itself....

Me: Yes - it's got no electric left in it. Is it tired? Can I have a new one?

Halfords man: Certainly sir - this is our standard battery - it comes with a 3 year guarantee

Me: Is it full up with electricity?

Halfords man: Indeed it's filled right to the top with heaps of electricity sir. Now... what car do you have as I need to know which battery to get for you?

Me: I have a black one - tis that one there in your list. It's nice. Mine looks diferent to the one in your book though. I done the stickers myself.

Halfords man: Aah, right - then you need an 067 - here you go!

Me: Er....that looks too big

Halfords man: Are you sure? (said in a "I know about cars - I work in a car shop - and you clearly know f**k-all" tone of voice)

Me: Yes - it's too big

Halfords man: Well - the computer says it's the right one for your car

Me: Well, I think the computer may be wrong as it is MAAAHHHAAAASSIVELY too big for my car

Halfords man: (I kid you not - this is a direct quote) Well, I'm sure it's the right one sir - things sometimes look bigger out of the car than they do in the car

Me: Yes - and things often look bigger when they are actually bigger than the other thing they are being compared with. It is larger than the space in my car for where the battery goes.....

Halfords man: But I'm sure.....etc etc

In the end I bought the battery and carried it out carefully (because it was brimming over with electricity and I didn't want to spill any) and took it home to my poorly car. I lifted up the lid at the front of my car and guess what..........