Oh, poor old Ashlee Simpson!
Just goes to show, again, that today's popular music is shit.
Instead of promoting young upcoming musicians and singers, who have worked hard to improve their craft, playing local gigs to a paltry amount of fans until an interest is built up, the record companies *spit* plough all their available A&R funds into packaging any old pretty face/sister of someone famous/failed soap star as 'the latest thing', and use them to urge the kids to part with their pocket money yet again.
I'm delighted that Ms Simpson has been exposed for what she is. Talentless. And the sooner the kids realise, the better.
And all this on the day that John Peel leaves us as well.....
Synchronicity?
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Comedy Genius....
Clicky Here! for the comedy genius that is Calvin and Hobbes!
Updated daily as well, so bookmark it if you know what's good for you!
*Edit:-fixed the link - sorry!
Updated daily as well, so bookmark it if you know what's good for you!
*Edit:-fixed the link - sorry!
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Sunday Prayers....
Ok, it's early on a Sunday morning and I'm feeling a wee bit religious!
Let us pray...
God grant me the strength to change what I can,
The inability to accept what I can't,
And the incapacity to tell the difference...
A-fucking-men....
Let us pray...
God grant me the strength to change what I can,
The inability to accept what I can't,
And the incapacity to tell the difference...
A-fucking-men....
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Primary School Football
Sorry for this, but I stole it from a message board 'cos I think it's funny! Why Oh why do they have to change the rules when you get older? I blame Sepp Blatter, and why not?
Primary School Football
The Rules Of The Game
General
Matches shall be played over three unequal periods: two playtimes and lunchtime.
Each of these periods shall begin shortly after the ringing of a bell, and although a bell is also rung towards the end of these periods, play may continue for up to ten minutes afterwards, depending on the nihilism or "bottle" of the participants with regard to corporal punishment meted out to latecomers back to the classroom. In practice there is a sliding scale of nihilism, from those who hasten to stand in line as soon as the bell rings, known as "poofs", through those who will hang on until the time they estimate it takes the teachers to down the last of their G&T's and journey from the staff room, known as "chancers", and finally to those who will hang on until a teacher actually has to physically retrieve them, known as "nutters".
This sliding scale is intended to radically alter the logistics of a match in progress, often having dramatic effects on the scoreline as the number of remaining participants drops. It is important, therefore, in picking the sides, to achieve a fair balance of poofs, chancers and nutters in order that the scoreline achieved over a sustained period of play - lunchtime, for instance - is not totally nullified by a five-minute post-bell onslaught of five nutters against one.
The scoreline to be carried over from the previous period of the match is in the trust of the last nutters to leave the field of play, and may be the matter of some debate. This must be resolved in one of the approved manners (see adjudication).
Parameters
The object is to force the ball between two large, unkempt piles of jackets, in lieu of goalposts. These piles may grow or shrink throughout the match, depending on the number of participants and the prevailing weather. as the number of players increases, so shall the piles.
Each jacket added to the pile by a new addition to a side should be placed on the inside, nearest the goalkeeper, thus reducing the target area. It is also important that the sleeve of one of the jackets should jut out across the goalmouth, as it will often be claimed that the ball went "over the post" and it can henceforth be asserted that the outstretched sleeve denotes the innermost part of the pile and thus the inside of the post.
The on-going reduction of the size of the goal is the responsibility of any respectable defence and should be undertaken conscientiously with resourcefulness and imagination.
In the absence of a crossbar, the upper limit of the target area is observed as being slightly above head height, although when the height at which a ball passed between the jackets is in dispute, judgement shall lie with an arbitrary adjudicator from one of the sides. He is known as the "best fighter"; his decision is final and may be enforced with physical violence if anyone wants to stretch a point.
In games on large open spaces, the length of the pitch is obviously denoted by the jacket piles, but the width is a variable. In the absence of roads, water hazards etc, the width is determined by how far out the attacking winger has to meander before the pursuing defender gets fed up and lets him head back towards where the rest of the players are waiting, often as far as quarter of a mile away. It is often observed that the playing area is "not a full-size pitch". This can be invoked verbally to justify placing a wall of players eighteen inches from the ball at direct free kicks. It is the formal response to "yards", which the kick-taker will incant meaninglessly as he places the ball.
Tactics
Playground football tactics are best explained in terms of team formation. Whereas senior sides tend to choose - according to circumstance - from among a number of standard options (eg 4-4-2, 4-3-3, 5-3-2), the playground side is usually more rigid in sticking to the all-purpose 1-1-17 formation. This formation is a sturdy basis for the unique style of play, ball-flow and territorial give-and-take that makes the playground game such a renowned and strategically engrossing spectacle.
Just as the 5-3-2 formation is sometimes referred to in practice as "Catenaccio", the 1-1-17 formation gives rise to a style of play that is best described as "Nomadic". all but perhaps four of the participants (see also Offside) migrate en masse from one area of the pitch to another, following the ball, and it is tactically vital that every last one of them remains within a ten-yard radius of it at all times.
Stoppages
Much stoppage time in the senior game is down to injured players requiring treatment on the field of play. The playground game flows freer having adopted the refereeing philosophy of "no post-mortem, no free-kick", and play will continue around and even on top of a participant who has fallen in the course of his endeavours. However, the playground game is nonetheless subject to other interruptions, and some examples are listed below.
1. Ball on school roof or over school wall. The retrieval time itself is negligible in these cases. The stoppage is most prolonged by the argument to decide which player must risk life, limb or four of the belt to scale the drainpipe or negotiate the barbed wire in order to return the ball to play. Disputes usually arise between the player who actually struck the ball and any others he claims it may have struck before disappearing into forbidden territory. In the case of the Best Fighter having been adjudged responsible for such an incident, a volunteer is often required to go in his stead or the game may be abandoned, as the Best Fighter is entitled to observe that (a) "you can't make me"; or (b) "It's not my ball anyway".
2. Bigger boys steal ball. A highly irritating interruption, the length of which is determined by the players' experience in dealing with this sort of thing. The intruders will seldom actually steal the ball, but will improvise their own kickabout amongst themselves, occasionally inviting the younger players to attempt to tackle them. Standing around looking bored and unimpressed usually results in a quick restart. Shows of frustration and engaging in attempts to win back the ball can prolong the stoppage indefinitely. Informing the intruders that one of the players' older brother is "Mad Paul Murphy" or some other noted local pugilist can also ensure minimum delay.
3. Menopausal old bag confiscates ball. More of a threat in the street or local green kickabout than within the school walls. Sad, blue-rinsed, ill-tempered, Tory-voting cat-owner transfers her anger about the array of failures that has been her life to nine-year-olds who have committed the heinous crime of letting their ball cross her privet Line of Death. Interruption (loss of ball) is predicted to last "until you learn how to play with it properly", but instruction on how to achieve this without actually having the bloody thing is not usually forwarded. Tact is required in these circumstances, even when the return of the ball seems highly unlikely, as further irritation of woman may result in the more serious stoppage: Menopausal old bag calls police.
Celebration
Goal-scorers are entitled to a maximum run of thirty yards with their hands in the air, making crowd noises and saluting imaginary packed terraces.
Congratulation by team-mates is in the measure appropriate to the importance of the goal in view of the current scoreline (for instance, making it 34-12 does not entitle the player to drop to his knees and make the sign of the cross), and the extent of the scorer's contribution.
A fabulous solo dismantling of the defence or 25-yard (actually eight yards, but calculated as relative distance because "it's not a full-size pitch") rocket shot will elicit applause and back-pats from the entire team and the more magnanimous of the opponents.
However, a tap-in in the midst of a chaotic scramble will be heralded with the epithet "poaching bas*ard" from the opposing defence amidst mild acknowledgment from team-mates.
Applying an unnecessary final touch when a ball is already rolling into the goal will elicit a burst nose from the original striker.
Kneeling down to head the ball over the line when defence and keeper are already beaten will elicit a thoroughly deserved kicking. As a footnote, however, it should be stressed that any goal scored by the Best Fighter will be met with universal acclaim, even if it falls into any of the latter three categories.
Penalties
At senior level, each side often has one appointed penalty-taker, who will defer to a team-mate in special circumstances, such as his requiring one more for a hat trick. The playground side has two appointed penalty-takers: the Best Player and the Best Fighter.
The arrangement is simple: the Best Player takes the penalties when his side is a retrievable margin behind, and the Best Fighter at all other times.
If the side is comfortably in front, the ball-owner may be invited to take a penalty. Goalkeepers are often the subject of temporary substitutions at penalties, forced to give up their position to the Best Player or Best Fighter, who recognise the kudos attached to the heroic act of saving one of these kicks, and are buggered if "little Bobby" is going to steal any of it.
Close Season
This is known also as the Summer Holidays, which the players usually spend dabbling briefly in other sports: tennis for a fortnight while Wimbledon is on the telly; pitch-and-putt for four days during the Open; and cricket for about an hour and a half until they discover that it really is as boring to play as it is to watch.
Primary School Football
The Rules Of The Game
General
Matches shall be played over three unequal periods: two playtimes and lunchtime.
Each of these periods shall begin shortly after the ringing of a bell, and although a bell is also rung towards the end of these periods, play may continue for up to ten minutes afterwards, depending on the nihilism or "bottle" of the participants with regard to corporal punishment meted out to latecomers back to the classroom. In practice there is a sliding scale of nihilism, from those who hasten to stand in line as soon as the bell rings, known as "poofs", through those who will hang on until the time they estimate it takes the teachers to down the last of their G&T's and journey from the staff room, known as "chancers", and finally to those who will hang on until a teacher actually has to physically retrieve them, known as "nutters".
This sliding scale is intended to radically alter the logistics of a match in progress, often having dramatic effects on the scoreline as the number of remaining participants drops. It is important, therefore, in picking the sides, to achieve a fair balance of poofs, chancers and nutters in order that the scoreline achieved over a sustained period of play - lunchtime, for instance - is not totally nullified by a five-minute post-bell onslaught of five nutters against one.
The scoreline to be carried over from the previous period of the match is in the trust of the last nutters to leave the field of play, and may be the matter of some debate. This must be resolved in one of the approved manners (see adjudication).
Parameters
The object is to force the ball between two large, unkempt piles of jackets, in lieu of goalposts. These piles may grow or shrink throughout the match, depending on the number of participants and the prevailing weather. as the number of players increases, so shall the piles.
Each jacket added to the pile by a new addition to a side should be placed on the inside, nearest the goalkeeper, thus reducing the target area. It is also important that the sleeve of one of the jackets should jut out across the goalmouth, as it will often be claimed that the ball went "over the post" and it can henceforth be asserted that the outstretched sleeve denotes the innermost part of the pile and thus the inside of the post.
The on-going reduction of the size of the goal is the responsibility of any respectable defence and should be undertaken conscientiously with resourcefulness and imagination.
In the absence of a crossbar, the upper limit of the target area is observed as being slightly above head height, although when the height at which a ball passed between the jackets is in dispute, judgement shall lie with an arbitrary adjudicator from one of the sides. He is known as the "best fighter"; his decision is final and may be enforced with physical violence if anyone wants to stretch a point.
In games on large open spaces, the length of the pitch is obviously denoted by the jacket piles, but the width is a variable. In the absence of roads, water hazards etc, the width is determined by how far out the attacking winger has to meander before the pursuing defender gets fed up and lets him head back towards where the rest of the players are waiting, often as far as quarter of a mile away. It is often observed that the playing area is "not a full-size pitch". This can be invoked verbally to justify placing a wall of players eighteen inches from the ball at direct free kicks. It is the formal response to "yards", which the kick-taker will incant meaninglessly as he places the ball.
Tactics
Playground football tactics are best explained in terms of team formation. Whereas senior sides tend to choose - according to circumstance - from among a number of standard options (eg 4-4-2, 4-3-3, 5-3-2), the playground side is usually more rigid in sticking to the all-purpose 1-1-17 formation. This formation is a sturdy basis for the unique style of play, ball-flow and territorial give-and-take that makes the playground game such a renowned and strategically engrossing spectacle.
Just as the 5-3-2 formation is sometimes referred to in practice as "Catenaccio", the 1-1-17 formation gives rise to a style of play that is best described as "Nomadic". all but perhaps four of the participants (see also Offside) migrate en masse from one area of the pitch to another, following the ball, and it is tactically vital that every last one of them remains within a ten-yard radius of it at all times.
Stoppages
Much stoppage time in the senior game is down to injured players requiring treatment on the field of play. The playground game flows freer having adopted the refereeing philosophy of "no post-mortem, no free-kick", and play will continue around and even on top of a participant who has fallen in the course of his endeavours. However, the playground game is nonetheless subject to other interruptions, and some examples are listed below.
1. Ball on school roof or over school wall. The retrieval time itself is negligible in these cases. The stoppage is most prolonged by the argument to decide which player must risk life, limb or four of the belt to scale the drainpipe or negotiate the barbed wire in order to return the ball to play. Disputes usually arise between the player who actually struck the ball and any others he claims it may have struck before disappearing into forbidden territory. In the case of the Best Fighter having been adjudged responsible for such an incident, a volunteer is often required to go in his stead or the game may be abandoned, as the Best Fighter is entitled to observe that (a) "you can't make me"; or (b) "It's not my ball anyway".
2. Bigger boys steal ball. A highly irritating interruption, the length of which is determined by the players' experience in dealing with this sort of thing. The intruders will seldom actually steal the ball, but will improvise their own kickabout amongst themselves, occasionally inviting the younger players to attempt to tackle them. Standing around looking bored and unimpressed usually results in a quick restart. Shows of frustration and engaging in attempts to win back the ball can prolong the stoppage indefinitely. Informing the intruders that one of the players' older brother is "Mad Paul Murphy" or some other noted local pugilist can also ensure minimum delay.
3. Menopausal old bag confiscates ball. More of a threat in the street or local green kickabout than within the school walls. Sad, blue-rinsed, ill-tempered, Tory-voting cat-owner transfers her anger about the array of failures that has been her life to nine-year-olds who have committed the heinous crime of letting their ball cross her privet Line of Death. Interruption (loss of ball) is predicted to last "until you learn how to play with it properly", but instruction on how to achieve this without actually having the bloody thing is not usually forwarded. Tact is required in these circumstances, even when the return of the ball seems highly unlikely, as further irritation of woman may result in the more serious stoppage: Menopausal old bag calls police.
Celebration
Goal-scorers are entitled to a maximum run of thirty yards with their hands in the air, making crowd noises and saluting imaginary packed terraces.
Congratulation by team-mates is in the measure appropriate to the importance of the goal in view of the current scoreline (for instance, making it 34-12 does not entitle the player to drop to his knees and make the sign of the cross), and the extent of the scorer's contribution.
A fabulous solo dismantling of the defence or 25-yard (actually eight yards, but calculated as relative distance because "it's not a full-size pitch") rocket shot will elicit applause and back-pats from the entire team and the more magnanimous of the opponents.
However, a tap-in in the midst of a chaotic scramble will be heralded with the epithet "poaching bas*ard" from the opposing defence amidst mild acknowledgment from team-mates.
Applying an unnecessary final touch when a ball is already rolling into the goal will elicit a burst nose from the original striker.
Kneeling down to head the ball over the line when defence and keeper are already beaten will elicit a thoroughly deserved kicking. As a footnote, however, it should be stressed that any goal scored by the Best Fighter will be met with universal acclaim, even if it falls into any of the latter three categories.
Penalties
At senior level, each side often has one appointed penalty-taker, who will defer to a team-mate in special circumstances, such as his requiring one more for a hat trick. The playground side has two appointed penalty-takers: the Best Player and the Best Fighter.
The arrangement is simple: the Best Player takes the penalties when his side is a retrievable margin behind, and the Best Fighter at all other times.
If the side is comfortably in front, the ball-owner may be invited to take a penalty. Goalkeepers are often the subject of temporary substitutions at penalties, forced to give up their position to the Best Player or Best Fighter, who recognise the kudos attached to the heroic act of saving one of these kicks, and are buggered if "little Bobby" is going to steal any of it.
Close Season
This is known also as the Summer Holidays, which the players usually spend dabbling briefly in other sports: tennis for a fortnight while Wimbledon is on the telly; pitch-and-putt for four days during the Open; and cricket for about an hour and a half until they discover that it really is as boring to play as it is to watch.
Ever Met Anyone Famous...?
I haven't.
The closest I got was when 80's Pomp-Rock 'giants' Magnum played in Wick about 12 years ago.
We all went through early in the day so we could get a bit pissed up before the gig, and we met Lead Singer (and professional dwarf-imitator) Bob Catley and his huge bodyguard walking down Wick High Street.
"Alright, Bob?' we nodded from across the street, as if we were casual aquaintances.
"A..Al..Alright lads?" he stammered back at us. I think he was wondering "Who the fuck are they?"
I know that The Professor once met Kenny Dalglish outside Parkhead when he played for Celtic (that's Kenny who played for Celtic, not The Prof....).
And what were Kenny's words of infinite wisdom, which The Professor has held close to his heart ever since?
"Get the fuck oot 'o ma way..."!
Who have you met, then?
The closest I got was when 80's Pomp-Rock 'giants' Magnum played in Wick about 12 years ago.
We all went through early in the day so we could get a bit pissed up before the gig, and we met Lead Singer (and professional dwarf-imitator) Bob Catley and his huge bodyguard walking down Wick High Street.
"Alright, Bob?' we nodded from across the street, as if we were casual aquaintances.
"A..Al..Alright lads?" he stammered back at us. I think he was wondering "Who the fuck are they?"
I know that The Professor once met Kenny Dalglish outside Parkhead when he played for Celtic (that's Kenny who played for Celtic, not The Prof....).
And what were Kenny's words of infinite wisdom, which The Professor has held close to his heart ever since?
"Get the fuck oot 'o ma way..."!
Who have you met, then?
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Hans-Hubert's Last Stand...
Trust me, it's not Berti's fault.
How is it that the Moldovan players could control (first touch as well) and pass the ball to each other with no problems at all, yet we couldn't? Our movement off the ball was frankly shocking, our use of the ball was amateur, yet 'we can't fault the boys for effort'.
Big deal. We expect effort. They are playing for Scotland after all.
Whatever happened to skill? Has it been usurped by the desire for effort and stamina?
I'm angry tonight, yet if these are the best players on offer, what can any replacement manager do? Gordon Strachan certainly wouldn't be able to suddenly turn Gary Holt or Stevie Thompson (for example) into silky, skilled footballers.
The answer lies with teaching young adult footballers that skill is the most powerful weapon a footballer can have. Not strength, stamina or power. Christ, a defender heads the ball from his own box into the opponents half, and the scottish crowd gives a big cheer.
'Yay! Good header..!'.
But the ball goes straight to the opposition. Well fucking done......
The ability of our players to receive the ball properly, and to pass it on so it is able to be received properly is non-existant! Where have the basic skills of the game gone?
Time to wise up, play with intelligence and skill (and confidence in that skill). Yet we haven't got players who can do that, because they were dumped aged 15 or 16 because they weren't strong enough, or were too small, or couldn't run flat out all game.
It's madness, I say. Yet poor old Bertie will get his jotters (or resign - it matters not. The shoogly peg on which his jaicket is placed is buckling under the weight...) simply because our players can't play football.
As I said, it's not Bertie's fault....
How is it that the Moldovan players could control (first touch as well) and pass the ball to each other with no problems at all, yet we couldn't? Our movement off the ball was frankly shocking, our use of the ball was amateur, yet 'we can't fault the boys for effort'.
Big deal. We expect effort. They are playing for Scotland after all.
Whatever happened to skill? Has it been usurped by the desire for effort and stamina?
I'm angry tonight, yet if these are the best players on offer, what can any replacement manager do? Gordon Strachan certainly wouldn't be able to suddenly turn Gary Holt or Stevie Thompson (for example) into silky, skilled footballers.
The answer lies with teaching young adult footballers that skill is the most powerful weapon a footballer can have. Not strength, stamina or power. Christ, a defender heads the ball from his own box into the opponents half, and the scottish crowd gives a big cheer.
'Yay! Good header..!'.
But the ball goes straight to the opposition. Well fucking done......
The ability of our players to receive the ball properly, and to pass it on so it is able to be received properly is non-existant! Where have the basic skills of the game gone?
Time to wise up, play with intelligence and skill (and confidence in that skill). Yet we haven't got players who can do that, because they were dumped aged 15 or 16 because they weren't strong enough, or were too small, or couldn't run flat out all game.
It's madness, I say. Yet poor old Bertie will get his jotters (or resign - it matters not. The shoogly peg on which his jaicket is placed is buckling under the weight...) simply because our players can't play football.
As I said, it's not Bertie's fault....
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Clever Boy....?
So, David Beckham thinks he's showing his intelligence by getting booked against Wales at the weekend, thus getting his suspension out the way while he's injured.
Pity his intelligence doesn't stretch to keeping his gob shut about it!
Pity his intelligence doesn't stretch to keeping his gob shut about it!
Monday, October 11, 2004
Best Ever Name Generator
The Name Generator. Easy bloggage!
Click Here to find out what your 'Ramones' name is.....
(This is for you, 70's Ian!)
Click Here to find out what your 'Ramones' name is.....
(This is for you, 70's Ian!)
Not Quite Schroedinger's Cat?
Well, it is done.
The first stage of The Great Cat-Nip Experiment has just been concluded, and I am pleased to publish my findings.
After some deliberation, and waiting for an opportune moment (i.e., when he'd calmed down and was unlikely to claw my eyes out..!) I took the botle of catnip spray, and, firmly holding his tail, sprayed it liberally over the end of his tail.
I then retired to a safe distance to record the results...
He immediately registered an interest in something around the area of his tail, but sniffed the area of blanket that his tail had been on...not once even considering that his tail was the area affected....
After two or three minutes he'd forgotten about it completely, even though his tail was still damp.
Bah.
In conclusion, I can concur that catnip, applied to living feline results in a neutral scent. Almost as if a + b = the square root of c.*
*Where a = cat and b = catnip and c = fuck all....
So, not quite Schroedinger's Cat then....
The first stage of The Great Cat-Nip Experiment has just been concluded, and I am pleased to publish my findings.
After some deliberation, and waiting for an opportune moment (i.e., when he'd calmed down and was unlikely to claw my eyes out..!) I took the botle of catnip spray, and, firmly holding his tail, sprayed it liberally over the end of his tail.
I then retired to a safe distance to record the results...
He immediately registered an interest in something around the area of his tail, but sniffed the area of blanket that his tail had been on...not once even considering that his tail was the area affected....
After two or three minutes he'd forgotten about it completely, even though his tail was still damp.
Bah.
In conclusion, I can concur that catnip, applied to living feline results in a neutral scent. Almost as if a + b = the square root of c.*
*Where a = cat and b = catnip and c = fuck all....
So, not quite Schroedinger's Cat then....
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Experiments and Idle Hands...
Right, I've been thinking....(...Cue The Wife saying "Oh Christ, he's been 'thinking' again..!)
When she was last down in Inverness (shopping) she came back with some treats for the cat. Y'know the sort of things - things tied to elastic on a stick, a dangly thing to try and catch and - the piece-de-resistance - "Kookamunga Super Concentrate Catnip Spray"...
This is exactly what it says on the bottle - liquid catnip.
Now my puss is just a common or garden fat ginger tom, and as such is just a wee bit vulnerable to the mind-altering multi-orgasmic effects of said catnip. Whatever we spray this stuff on gets slevered on, rolled on and rubbed to bits for about an hour at a time.
He likes.
So as I said, I've had an idea.
What if I was to spray some of this stuff on him ? Or on his tail? (Don't worry kitty-lovers, there are no warnings on the bottle to discourage the use of said product on said feline.)
Would he chase his tail around in circles, slobbering and purring uncontrollably? Or would it drive him NUTS!??
And as a further extension to this experiment, what would happen if I gave the bottle to 70's Ian to perform a 'Group Study'? He's got 5 cats. Imagine them all ganging up on the one cat that's been sprayed! Would it be one big love-in, or would the inevitable fight ensue?
Once this experiment is concluded I will publish a full report.
Here. Later.
When she was last down in Inverness (shopping) she came back with some treats for the cat. Y'know the sort of things - things tied to elastic on a stick, a dangly thing to try and catch and - the piece-de-resistance - "Kookamunga Super Concentrate Catnip Spray"...
This is exactly what it says on the bottle - liquid catnip.
Now my puss is just a common or garden fat ginger tom, and as such is just a wee bit vulnerable to the mind-altering multi-orgasmic effects of said catnip. Whatever we spray this stuff on gets slevered on, rolled on and rubbed to bits for about an hour at a time.
He likes.
So as I said, I've had an idea.
What if I was to spray some of this stuff on him ? Or on his tail? (Don't worry kitty-lovers, there are no warnings on the bottle to discourage the use of said product on said feline.)
Would he chase his tail around in circles, slobbering and purring uncontrollably? Or would it drive him NUTS!??
And as a further extension to this experiment, what would happen if I gave the bottle to 70's Ian to perform a 'Group Study'? He's got 5 cats. Imagine them all ganging up on the one cat that's been sprayed! Would it be one big love-in, or would the inevitable fight ensue?
Once this experiment is concluded I will publish a full report.
Here. Later.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Nothing Doing....
Well, this 'Unemployment' lark is not all it's cracked up to be...
I've spent the last few days doing nothing but get pissed and sleep! What's the fun in that, then?
I had arranged to meet 70's Ian and The Professor in a local hostelry on Friday to drink lager and catch up on things. So I get home at about 10pm, absolutely snottered with the drink. I knew I had to get up early on Saturday as we had an all-day 7-a-side Cup Competition to play, starting at 10am. Which led to more drink (we went for the carry-out at 11.30am, and it was half done by time we played our second game at 1.25! Needless to say, we lost both games 4-1! Thank soddery I am the manager and don't play anymore!).
I remember being home in time to watch the Premiership highlights on BBC1 at night....
And today was spent sleeping, with a brief trip to the all-weather pitch (in fact more appropriately, the SOME-WEATHER-pitch) to take the weekly training session which was aborted due to there being only 4 players in attendance! Bloody softies...
So that's it for now. I have my first signing-on date on Wednesday where I will be expected to justify my Jobseekers Allowance by providing evidence of my attempts to find work.
That should be fun...
I've spent the last few days doing nothing but get pissed and sleep! What's the fun in that, then?
I had arranged to meet 70's Ian and The Professor in a local hostelry on Friday to drink lager and catch up on things. So I get home at about 10pm, absolutely snottered with the drink. I knew I had to get up early on Saturday as we had an all-day 7-a-side Cup Competition to play, starting at 10am. Which led to more drink (we went for the carry-out at 11.30am, and it was half done by time we played our second game at 1.25! Needless to say, we lost both games 4-1! Thank soddery I am the manager and don't play anymore!).
I remember being home in time to watch the Premiership highlights on BBC1 at night....
And today was spent sleeping, with a brief trip to the all-weather pitch (in fact more appropriately, the SOME-WEATHER-pitch) to take the weekly training session which was aborted due to there being only 4 players in attendance! Bloody softies...
So that's it for now. I have my first signing-on date on Wednesday where I will be expected to justify my Jobseekers Allowance by providing evidence of my attempts to find work.
That should be fun...
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