The View From The Bar....

Post Update

2006-08-17T21:23:00.002+01:00

Ach, post edited after many months of embarrassment. Shame that a rather fun endeavour ultimately descended into an utter boredom-led lyrical maelstrom.

The commenters have it right, though - although I can't believe any of them are still available to read after all these years..

Y'never know though, I might be back one day, just not this day. It's not easy coming up with new pub-related funnies these days, given that my 5-day-a-week pub attendance (as a pub-worker) has now been superceded (underceded?) by a mostly one-day-a-week limit.

Time will tell though...

Still Here....?

2006-06-30T11:24:00.000+01:00

Just popping in to see who's still hanging around...h'mmm, not many it seems.

Recent things that have caught my attention: -

1) Scottish people being harangued by the English media into supporting England during the World Cup.

My view on this? Why should we? As F.I.F.A. recognise us as two separate nations, why should we actively support any other team (and if we do, why should it be England)?

That'd be a bit like a German supporting the Netherlands, or a Spaniard supporting Portugal (or even a Brazilian supporting Argentina). It would be preposterous.

In no other place on earth would anyone expect someone to support their nearest and dearest (!) rivals in any sporting arena. Just because we are part of the United Kingdom, doesn't mean we have to fawn all over each other on the football fields.

Now we shall expand this a little, and look at the many Scots who are actively supporting whoever England are playing.

Now, this may seem a tad on the hostile side of things, but there is a very, very good reason for this phenomenon.

Television.

We in Scotland are forced to watch English television coverage of the World Cup, through the Scottish television company's lack of funds/enthusiasm.

Nothing irks me (and most other Scots viewers) more than watching these pundits and listening to commentators and anal-ysts witter on about the England camp and how they will win the World Cup, during a game between Argentina and Germany or Ghana and Brazil.

If these television programmes would concentrate on the game at hand, and project a sensible, un-biased viewpoint, then we in Scotland would be a damn sight happier.

2) Football-related again, I'm afraid.

Recently, a young Kiwi lad and his father were attacked in Edinburgh because the lad was wearing an England shirt. Allegedly.

In another incident, a disabled England fan was dragged from his car and beaten up for the same reason. Allegedly.

Now, I add the 'allegedly' to both statements, simply because there has been no corroborative evidence to back these stories up. No arrests, no prosecutions, no hardened xenophobes sent down.

Now, in no way would I condone these actions, true or not - they are a sad reflection on modern life more than anything else.

However, these incidents have been widely reported in the English media, at a time when over 500 England fans are arrested in Germany. The cynical amongst us could come to a few conclusions quite easily here, don't you think?

And before any enraged Englishman comments about the Scots and their Anti-English hatred, I'd like to draw their atention to a small news report that has probably not been widely reported, and certainly not raised in the House Of Commons: -

Click Here

The phrase "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" springs to mind.

Holier-than-thou? Me?

Back from the Dead!

2006-02-16T00:37:00.000Z

Well, the previous post certainly confirms my thoughts.

Posting from a mobile 'phone doesn't work using the Blogger dashboard...even using an xHTML browser. Meh...

In other news: -

I haven't been posting recently because I couldn't really be arsed. (None of this "writer's block" bollocks for me! Non-arsed-ness it is, then!!)

Christmas is now firmly past us, and we're all happier for that I'm sure. In fact, it's almost Easter time, 'cos there's tons of Creme Eggs in the shops.

In fact, I have to concur with Scaryduck's discoveries of a few weeks ago - Creme Eggs are now indeed smaller than ever.

They used to be the size of ostrich eggs (hang on - that remnds me of an old story that takes the piss out of The Wife!) in the days of Wagon Wheels the size of, well, wheels on a wagon and Curly-Wurlys had to be carried on your back like a window-cleaner's ladder...

Ah, the halcyon days of youth right enough.

Right, enough of this buffoonery for now.

We'll take this one step at a time, and see how long and how far we can go. Likely as long s it takes for me to become not arsed again.

I bid you adieu, adieu, to you and you and you...

2006-02-16T00:16:00.000Z

The DVDs People Will Release...?

2005-12-01T16:10:00.000Z

I could not believe it when I heard today on the radio that they're set to release a DVD of the England 3 Argentina 2 football match played recently in Switzerland.

It was a friendly game! Not the World Cup Final!! This match counted for nothing, although quite a good game of football it was.

But then, I saw a quite good game of football on TV the other night between Doncaster Rovers and Aston Villa, yet they're not rush-releasing that for the Christmas market!

Pretty sad decision to release that DVD, to be honest...

But is it quite as sad as THIS??

Who decides these DVDs should be released? And more importantly, who decides to buy them?

Magnus Magnusson

2005-11-20T18:27:00.000Z

If I told you there was a game starring Magnus Magnusson, you'd like it, right? I mean, it's Magnus Magnusson, isn't it?

What if I told you Magnus was pissed. From drinking bleach?

And that he has to piss on otters?

And not wasps. Or Electric Eskimos.

Would you play it?

How could you not?

Magnus Magnusson Pissing On Otters and not wasps or Electric Eskimos Game

Highest score wins a small portion of fuck all.

(Actually, it's a rather crap game, I just like the idea!)

Freefall.....!!

2005-10-29T00:19:00.000+01:00

This made me laugh. Out loud. Slow it down a wee bit, very crunchy!

Hope it makes you laugh too..!

Anniversaries...

2005-10-27T13:01:00.000+01:00

A year has passed. One year. It has been better than expected, I suppose.

I’ll never forget that fateful day, one year ago today, when my darling, beloved Wife came home from a not-so-routine Doctor’s appointment. We both knew something was not right (not just not right, but well, wrong..) but the Docs couldn’t figure it out.

Her right leg had become weak, meaning that walking long distances had become difficult – not painful, but just difficult. Her right hip was affected too. We thought it might be a trapped nerve or something like that.

Various tests were carried out, a couple of MRI scans and blood tests galore.

She came back from that doctor’s appointment, burst through our front door visibly shaking, and in floods of tears. Eventually she said the words that would change both our lives forever….

“I’ve got MS. Multiple Sclerosis.”

Much tears and soul-searching ensued. I spent a few sleepless nights, worrying about the future and what that might hold. I can’t even contemplate how The Wife was feeling through all this….she certainly coped better than I did.

After the shock had worn off a wee bit, we knew we had to face up to it. The nurse had told her not to look at all the MS websites, as they can give a somewhat false impression of the condition, and after ignoring her advice and checking some of them out, I knew I should have listened! MS is a condition that is different for every single sufferer, and some of the websites paint a very black picture indeed.

Anyway, a year has gone by. She is still fit, active, and full of life and is as strong as ever.

Her condition (I’ll never, ever call it a disease, like one of the nurses called it – that annoyed me somewhat!) hasn’t progressed much at all, and I for one think that that has much to do with the way she has combated this threat to her health.

She has an indomitable, indefatigable (© you-know-who…!) spirit of positive defiance that astounds me, and long may that last.

So, here’s to the next year – and whatever it may hold.

Anyone here...?

2005-10-20T04:07:00.000+01:00

*Opens door*

*Pokes head into room*

*Shouts "Hello? Is there anybody out there?"'*

*Waits for echo......*

*Hears "... ♪ on the horizon...orizon....izon....♪♪"*
.
.
.
*Shakes head, and closes door again, until tomorrow...*

End Of Another Week...

2005-09-23T12:57:00.000+01:00

Been real busy this past week or so.

The local seven-a-side league has started again, and after last season's wonderful achievements (we won the 2nd Division and the Champions Cup) I have resigned my post as Manager. Time is an issue just now...

The new season has got off to a bad start 10 goals conceded and only 1 scored. The 1st Division is going to be tough, right enough!

Moving on..

Had a visit from our mates Sneaky Les and Jeanette last week, and we went to see the neolithic burial chambers at Camster.

And have a deek at those clouds..!!

The Long Cairn

The Round Cairn

The Wife crawling into the passageway of the Round Cairn, with Sneaky Les in the foreground.

You'll notice that there are no 'photos of the inside...! There's a reason for this - no way was I going down that wee passageway..!

Anyway in other news, I was told 10 days ago that we'd be playing at the 3rd 'E-Rock Concert on the 24th (that's tomorrow!) so have been frantically trying to rehearse the new songs. It's not going well...

The last 'E-Rock Concert was a great success, raising cash for the local Nerve Centre, so hopefully this one can do the same. I'm shitting it already...!

A further point to consider is that tomorrow (24th) is The Wife's 6th Wedding Anniversary.

This means that all ideas of romantic candlelit dinners, and all that bullshit have been replaced by frantic rehearsals, and an evening for her which consists of going to a place she hates, sitting with a nervous, twitching, sweaty, probably not sober husband...!

Happy Anniversary, M'Dear!

People From Dundee....?

2005-09-08T19:53:00.001+01:00

Stumbled across some funny stuff on the internet over the years, and here's another example!

Be warned though, there are sweary-wordies, and a broad Dundee accent involved, so those of a nervous disposition shouldn't proceed....!

Just press the 'Play' icon!

*Edit - Content removed as now obsolete.*

-->

I know I wouldn't want to be 'June' when 'Aggie' get's her hands on her!!

*Many thanks to Dumpdee.co.uk for the laughs!This is the first time I've tried embedding, so let me know if it works or not! Got my fingers crossed!

Save Our Trees!

2005-08-31T17:18:00.000+01:00

So, they've decided to cut down our trees (well, they're not ours, just the ones that are in the town square) because the birds are congregating on them, and shitting on the ground, which causes an awfy smell?

Jesus H! What are the council road sweepers for? Should they not be clearing the mess up, rather than just cutting down all the trees? Or even get rid of the birds! We could get a council cat to patrol the area. All it would cost is the frequent rescue fees from the fire brigade!

What purpose do these birds serve? W£hat the fuck are they for?

A couple of weeks of pot-shots from the local rifle club, and we'd be rid of them for good. But no, the council wouldn't spend their (or should I say, our) cash on cleaning the corpses from the streets, would they?

No, they'd far rather shift the problem sideways and just cut down all the trees.

Where do they reckon these flocks of starlings will go? Do they seriously think that they'll all just shuffle off back to their nests like a football crowd going home after an abandoned game? No, they'll migrate to the nearest group of trees, probably down by the riverside, where they'll continue to stink up the place.

Despite what it says in the above article, there's nothing wrong with the trees - they are pretty much perfectly healthy.

This is just idiotic council cost-cutting of the laziest kind.

The End Of The Mini-Stalker Episode...

2005-08-15T15:33:00.000+01:00

It came as a shock to us all...

A mini-stalker, appearing at our door two or three times a day, annoying us by hanging round and offering to help us with the garden, in return for the endless reinflation of tyres.

But, in scenes reminiscent of the Iranian Embassy Seige, the offending mini-stalker was hunted down like a wild animal, and banished forever from our door.

All it required was some welding gear, an irate neighbour and one small, ginger, mini-stalker!

Ahh, the peace and quiet is marvellous....

(I'm sure I'll tell the full story one day!)

Ya Gotta Laugh....?

2005-08-05T23:32:00.000+01:00

Copied and Pasted directly from Overheard In New York!

And Lo! 'Tis funny...

Chick #1: I went back on birth control this month. I'm using the Ring, except I don't know if I'm using it right. I don't want to take it out every time we have sex.

Chick #2: Wait, you shouldn't have to take it out during sex.

Chick #1: That's what I thought. Except, maybe I'm using it wrong, but I had sex and then afterward we couldn't find it.

Chick #2: It can't get lost up there!

Chick #1: It went so far up my cooter. And I swear I must have put my whole fist in there to fish it out.

Chick #2: There's nowhere for it to go! It can't get past your cervix.

Chick #1: How far up is my cervix?

Chick #2: Well, depends how long your vagina is. I think everyone's is different. Maybe you have, like, a subway tunnel in there.

Stalker Update...

2005-08-05T14:26:00.000+01:00

Well, our mini-stalker problem hasn't got any worse. Or better.

Every day he's at the door, yesterday he arrived on three separate occasions.

I've told him not to ring the doorbell, as The Wife is on night-shift and was woken up by him at lunchtime on Tuesday. So now he just knocks on the door...

I've re-inflated his tyre three times, straightened his handlebars twice and put the chain back on three times. The last time the chain came off, I couldn't unravel it. He came back later that day with it all fixed. He'd done it himself...

I've told him that his front tyre has got a slow puncture, and to take it to the bike shop for repairs.

But why should he? Every time it goes flat there's some mug living in yon house over there who'll fix it for nothing!

I've tried asking why his Dad won't fix his bike for him, but he said that his Dad isn't a "biker person" like me.

The Wife is getting on my back about the constant interruptions, but she won't do anything about it! It's my job, apparently...after all, it's me he comes to see...

Trouble is, I don't have the heart to just tell him to "Fuck off and don't bother us again!"

Soft as shite? Me ?

You betcha....

...And About Time, Too!

2005-08-02T03:16:00.000+01:00

Thanks to ScaryDuck for the alert. I hadn't realised this had happened (at last).

This could possibly be the second best headline ever...??

Some Advice Please...?

2005-08-01T00:46:00.000+01:00

Last Thursday, I think, there was a knock at the door. It was a wee laddie with his bike.

"Aye?" I says.

"Sorry tae bother ye Mister, but huv' ye goat a pump fur ma' bike..?" he says with a broad Edinburgh accent.

"Aye, I do! Here, I'll give you a hand."

So I go out, and his front tyre was nearly flat. I take my handily placed bicycle pump and proceed to reinflate his tyre. He was just a wee laddie, ginger hair and quite inquisitive. And really polite.

As I'm pumping the tyre up, he apologises - "Ah'm sorry fur comin' tae yer door, mister", to which I can only say "It's no bother". Well, it's not often you see such politeness from one so young.

So, bike back in order, he's off into the distance with the friendly advice - "Keep an eye on that tyre, it might have a slow puncture..." ringing in the late afternoon air.

At this point, I thought that'd be the end of it. I'd done my good deed for the day.

Couple of days later (Saturday), we're due a delivery of 2 tonnes of stone-chips for the garden, and they duly arrive in the morning. The Wife has arranged the borrowing of a 'borrow, and she arrives with it in the late afternoon.

So, with the garden all covered by the recommended groundcloth stuff, I proceed to shovel these 2 tonnes of chips, transporting to The Wife in the garden via the aforementioned wheelbarrow.

Halfway through this monumental (or just mental?) task, who should show up?

That's right, the wee ginger lad. With questions.

WGL - "What are ye doin', mister?"

TMBTB - "I'm shovelling these stones into the wheelbarrow, and taking them to the garden"

WGL - "Can I help?"

TMBTB - "Sorry, but no, it's too heavy for a wee laddie like you."

At which, he decides to start filling a pail with these stone-chips, and carry them into the garden. Next thing, The Wife has got him collecting the stones that have fallen on the ground (off my shovel!).

"Good!" I'm thinking. "That'll keep him out of trouble, and out of harm's way."

Even when we adjourned for a break, he still wanted to carry on. We had to tell him we were going for our tea before he took the hint. And off he went.

For a while.

Half an hour later, The Wife and I are back at it again, nearly ¾ done now, and from nowhere, he's back again.

As we're finishing off the job, and packing everything up, I hand him a pound coin. He seems really surprised at this, and grasps it tightly.

As he's cycling off, he says "Thanks for the pound, mister!"

"No bother wee man, you earned it!" I reply.

"OK, I'll see you tomorrow then...."

Me and The Wife were left just looking at each other.

And this morning?

The Wife goes to hang up some washing, and there he is. Again asking questions.

She comes back indoors, where I'm nursing stretched and sore muscles, and says "What are we going to do about him?"

Well, what can we do?

10 minutes later, it's raining and she has to go back out and take the washing back in again. He's still there. Asking questions.

He's everywhere, following our every move!

Fucking hell, we're being stalked by a 7-year-old !

So, my question to you all (or both of you, I've been checking my site stats!) is:-

How can we dissuade this charming, polite, inquisitive yet utterly annoying wee pest from haunting our every footstep, without causing alarm or distress?

At Last....Normality resumes...

2005-07-30T12:04:00.000+01:00

Well, after a long, long summer of sport, including Sir Clive's disastrous 'English' Lions Tour of New Zealand, the collapse of Henman Hill (and subsequent rebuild into Muray Mound (WTF?)), along with Golf's wonderful, yet utterly predictable Open Championship at St. Andrews, the legend of Lance Armstrong winning 7-Tour-De's-in-a-row then quitting at the top, to England's dashed hopes after winning a few 20/20 matches aaginst Australia which had them triumphantly parading The Ashes before a ball was thrown in anger, it's time at last to welcome real sport back onto the daily calendar.

Welcome back the SPL!

It's a BIG AD...!

2005-07-21T11:45:00.000+01:00

Ha ha ha! Another funny, this time an Australian advert.

Click Here!

Mmmm, I fancy a beer now!

Did You Miss Me?

2005-07-20T22:25:00.000+01:00

Ach, I'm back....sort of...

Decided to take a rest from 'blogging, as I can't be arsed to be honest! Content recently has been a bit pish, and I haven't really been visiting the Blogosphere to catch up with things either.

Been reading a lot of these Internet Message Boards though, and there is some quality funnies to be found. Here's one someone else prepared earlier....(credits to 'AMW-r1ckw', whoever he is!)

"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline....

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, telephone number, date of birth, credit card number and your mother's maiden name.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9 If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you are manic-depressive, it does not matter which number you press; no one will answer.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want.. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All of our operators are too busy to talk to you."

Now I could have done a wee diatribe about the futility of these damnable automated answering services, and how bloody annoying they are, and how the easy way to actually get to speak to someone real is to wait until all the options are read out and the call gets diverted to the one person who's actually really there....but I won't.

I'll try to be back soon.

Coming Home...

2005-07-08T13:36:00.000+01:00

I had considered writing something about the happenings in London yesterday, but I really can't think of the right thing to say. So, I'll concentrate on things closer to home for me.

Well, The Wife is on her way back from Glenrothes today, in fact she'll be back in less than 2 hours.

The sight of various nefarious types conducting running battles through the sleepy, timid streets of an early morning Auchterarder reminded me of the rioters in Belfast at the heights of the troubles there.

Reports of injured policemen taken to hospital, only for the protesters to follow and attempt to disrupt their treatment!

These people are not protestors (nor anarchists) at all. They're just idiotic wee students, fooled into believing they are on some ort of crusade.

One guy, on camera, complaining about getting a truncheoning (?) after getting too close to the perimiter fence at Gleneagles was asked by a journalist "Sir, why were you standing so close to the fence?" to which truncheonee says "I..I..I was trying to make my voice heard!".

Journo then says "Well, you have a TV camera there, now's your chance. Make it heard".

All he could say was "Look what they did to me!"

Idiot. A true campaigner or protestor would have had a here's-one-I-prepared-earlier diatribe against western capitalism and the war in Iraq.

Anyway must dash, time to wash the dishes and hoover the floor, and weed the garden, and do all those things I said I would do when she was away...

Live 8

2005-07-04T00:57:00.000+01:00

Spent most of yesterday (and some of today) watching the coverage of Live 8 concerts, from all over the world.

Was watching out for specific artists of course - Motley Crue, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Deep Purple, The Who and Pink Floyd uppermost in my viewing schedule.

One thing I realised after the event, was how the older rockers managed to put on such a great show, with all the above showing real Rock Star qualities - something that the younger, up and coming bands need to learn from. A lot.

Bands like Coldplay and Travis came across as shoe-gazing scruffy students, dull and introspective. I mean, come on! Where's the fucking SHOW?

Christ, I could just sit at home and play your CDs with the EQ all fucked up, through some really crappy speakers to get the same fucking effect...!

Got to admit, Robbie Williams does put on a good show. He's a rock god in the waiting, that boy...if only he'd cut out the sentimental shite ballads, he'd be up there with Rob Halford and Bon Scott as a frontman.

So, I was well impressed with Motley Crue in Toronto - they just came out and rocked the place, but just older and a bit fatter! Encouraging to see Mick Mars actually walking about on stage! By the accounts in "The Dirt" I half expected him to get wheeled about in a wheelchair or something...

Bon Jovi just were! A band born for the big stage.

Def Leppard put in an unsurprisingly American performance, complete with dodgy lead vocals. No surprise there, but at least they did act like Rock Stars!

Deep Purple were brilliant too - even without Ritchie and Jon, and even though both Ian Paice and Ian Gillan look as if they are 70! A cracking dose of classic rock!

The surprise of the day (for me) was The Who..

I've never really been much of a fan of theirs, and I only know a few of their songs. Yet they really put on a good show, an ageing but still lively burst of strained and stretched guitar and vocals, all fitting in well with their unmentioned backing band members.

Pink Floyd, while not being my type of thing, seems to have stolen the show.

(Not really that hard to do I suppose with only a surprisingly sweary (!) Madonna and the aforementioned Robbie Williams even coming close.)

Good to see the Floyd band members all getting on so well together after all the acrimony and backstabbing over the last god-knows-how-long!

Biggest Disappointment? - Velvet Revolver. Came across as true Rock Stars, but failed to deliver musically. In my opinion, they should ditch the dodgy singer, write some great rock songs, and get back on the drink and drugs...

(A bit of credit is due to the Stereophonics, who at least tried to wake the London crowd up early doors. Showed a bit of promise, and a fair bit of Rock Star quality.)

One last thing - Watch the re-runs of all the concerts on US AOL and UK AOL. At least there is none of that infuriating Jonathon Woss, and that utterly vacuous bint off of TOTP...Fern Cotton is it?

Lazy, Bored, - Damn Summertime...

2005-06-30T13:53:00.000+01:00

Well, been a bit indolent here recently, so a wee update for you all!

The Wife is away (since Sunday) at this G8 conference, working in the nerve centre in Glenrothes as part of the S-PICC team. She's expecting to be a bit busy over the weekend! She even got her fizzog on the telly on Tuesday - they were doing a news piece about the S-PICC and there she was, bending over a table with some coppers!

Unfortunately, I'd recorded it on VHS, but hadn't checked to see if the VCR was connected properly since the house-flitting, and ended up with a recording of a black screen instead. Bloody technology!

As soon as she went off on Sunday, I was straight onto Crucial.com to order a RAM upgrade for my PC. Good thing she left her credit card behind!

Two days later, package arrives and I'm digging in the back of the computer installing the new RAM. Now the PC is running like a dream, fast as f...er,...a fast thing indeed! It's like getting a new PC (but for just £35). Should've done it ages ago!

Wednesday was my fortnightly trip on the bone-rattler through to Wick for to sign-on. Uneventful as usual, except for the journey back. A couple of tourists (husband and wife I presume) sat behind me on the bus and he was giving her a running commentary all the way, just spouting random rubbish about the countryside. I'll give you a wee rundown of some of the pish he was talking:-

1 - "It's quite gentle scenery up here, lots of rolling hills and fresh pastures, isn't it darling?", to which she replies "Yes, dear.."

Aye, that's 'cos the wind has flattened everything in its path.

2 - "The cows and the sheep seem quite happy to share pastures with each other, don't they?" - "Yes, dear..."

What, like you'd expect them to be fighting for territory?

3 - "There's Georgemas Junction over there, I wonder how it got its name? It's like Christmas, but with George instead..." - "Yes, dear..."

Dear God, what next?

4 - "And now we're going to Halkirk, it's like Falkirk, but with an 'H'.." - "Yes, dear.."

And now I am physically laughing out loud!

All in all, a worthwhile journey!

Wimbles of Wombleton...

2005-06-24T13:03:00.000+01:00

Well, I thought of commenting on the disastrous (their words, not mine) exit yesterday of the mighty Timmy from Wimbledon.

But then I came across Birdy's chirp on the same subject, and as I couldn't possibly do better, I've decided to link to it instead.

Click here to read it!

I Spk Txt Lk A Ntve...

2005-06-21T20:28:00.000+01:00

Struggling for 'blog-content recently, so should apologise for this. Sorry. I'm sure that both of you will forgive me a wee rest.

However, BBC News brings THIS to my attention! (Professor, don't click the link! It'll make you angry!)

It's true that in today's world, with the worldwide wundaweb and the popularity of mobile 'phones set to rise exponentially, we are becoming more and more acceptant of the basdardisation of the English language, by people who are basically ignorant of its basic rules. (I include myself in there somewhere too, before the cry goes up! I know I use too many "..."s!)

When reading most of the many message boards, forums and websites that I visit, I am continually amazed at what I class as other people's stupidity.

How can someone not know how to spell "definately", or how another can "loose the game", or "go too the cinema"?

How many times must I read "LOL", "AFAIK" or "IIRC" and all the rest of the wonderful Txt Spk?
(My favourite is "ROTFLMFAO"! Let's face it, no one really is rolling on the floor, laughing their fucking arse off, are they? Are they???)

But, what can we do? How can the ordinary bloke in the street encourage the ignorant and the lazy to punctuate properly, or to spell correctly? Simple answer is, we can't.

So, we'd better get used to the idea that the English language is going to change beyond all recognition. I for one am not too happy about it...

UEFA In A Fankle...

2005-06-10T14:10:00.000+01:00

The NEWS that UEFA have acceded to overwhelming pressure and allowed Liverpool to enter next season's Champions League (albeit at the 3rd Qualifying Round) has gone down like a lead balloon here at View From The Bar...

It's not that Liverpool don't deserve to defend their trophy - they undoubtedly do - but more the fact that as England now have 5 representatives, the English UEFA Co-Efficient (which affects the next 5 years worth of seedings) will now be unfairly advantaged.

I can imagine that the Spanish FA are particulary beelan' at this decision after Zaragoza were forced out of the Champions League a few seasons ago.

Interesting to note that Liverpool could easily come up against another English team in the final Qualifying Round, thus leaving only 4 English teams in the league section proper.
(Presuming they all qualify!)

What are the odds of that happening?

Pay As You Go...?

2005-06-07T15:01:00.000+01:00

So, Alastair Darling announces plans to charge drivers £1.34 per mile to use our motorways?

Who on earth ever thought this would be a good idea? Was this put to a referendum, so we could voice our concerns? Nope. Nada. Nicht.

Whatever happened to Democracy?

The only saving grace (for me) is that roads up here in the Highlands of Sunny Scotland are liable to be rated at about 2 pence per mile. Not that it bothers me as I don't drive (but The Wife does...)

The more I think about it, the more I reckon it's all a con by the Government.

1. Tell everyone that it'll cost £1.34 per mile.

2. After everyone uniformally complains, Mr Darling then announces "Major Reform" of his PaYG plan, and changes the prices to 40 pence a mile.

3. Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief - "Whew, we showed them there, didn't we" - meanwhile, the Transport Secretary is laughing up his sleeve at getting his evil, nefarious plan through the statute books.

It's so not right that I would even consider saying that it's wrong....

E-Bay...How Sad???

2005-05-30T02:34:00.000+01:00

Look at this and tell me that people don't actually buy false teeth from eBay???

What The Fuck???

Who on earth would happily buy second hand false teeth from unknown sources, especially since they can't try them for size first...?

Twister!!

2005-05-26T22:13:00.000+01:00

Taken from Viewfirth field, at 1.45pm last Sunday afternoon.

Cheers to Davie T. for the images.

(Fair put a stop to our football training...)

I Still Can't Believe It...!

2005-05-23T14:43:00.000+01:00

Sat alone in the house yesterday afternoon, listening to the radio coverage of the final day of the SPL season, fully expecting (and dreading) an easy Celtic win at Motherwell and thus another Championship going to Celtic.

Yet Lo! and Behold!

A Motherwell reserve side, who were comprehensively trounced last week by Rangers, played out of their skin and with the score at 0-1 and 3 minutes to go, Scott McDonald, an Australian journeyman footballer (and Celtic fan) pops up and scores one of the goals of the season to make it 1-1. Then again 3 minutes later to make it 2-1!

Over at Easter Road, where Rangers and Hibs are playing out a 0-1 victory to Rangers (which gives Hibs the last UEFA spot, strangely) the away support absolutely erupts when news filters through of the equaliser at Fir park.

Back in my house, the hairs on the back of my neck are bristling, and I can only hope that the neighbours didn't mind all the shouting!

It's upsets like this, the twists and turns, and the utter inability to predict the results of football matches that makes this Beautiful Game so wonderous to all those who follow it.

It's amazing that a largely unknown, average Australian footballer can become a Scottish Football Legend, his name forever revered and hated equally by either side of the Old Firm divide. An Albert Kidd for the new Millenium indeed!

Bedlam, heartbreak, tears and joy. From the top of the world to the depths of despair (and vice versa, for some of us!) in the space of 3 excruciating minutes.

What a season!

Gorgeous George...

2005-05-18T01:45:00.000+01:00

Spent a good wee while this evening laughing at George Galloway ripping the utter pish out of the Yanks.....

I'm not political in any way at all. I have issues, but mostly about standing up for Scotland but surely that's to be expected?

Gorgeous George just delighted me with his 'Braveheart' spirit. Good on ye, but I hope ye dinna get 'fun oot'...

Other News:

I've been listening recently to more and more of what can only be described as 'Euro-Metal' music.

Bands with names like Blind Guardian, Kamelot and Falconer with their bombastic choruses, over-wrought lyrics and frankly laughable images...

But, the absolute and utter belief in their music is one of the main things that draws me to them. They are Heavy Metal. Completely. Totally.

Just watch this streaming video from Dream Evil and tell me they don't read from The Book Of Heavy Metal....

\m/

Just a Lame Forum-Joke-Post, again...

2005-05-13T23:44:00.000+01:00

Yeah, I know it's an oldie, but hey-ho, it's still a wee bit funny...I have no shame....

Technical Support,

18 months ago, I upgraded to GirlFriend 1.0 from DrinkingMates 4.2, which I had used for years without any trouble. However, there are apparently conflicts between these two products and the only solution was to try and run GirlFriend 1.0 with the sound turned off. To make matters worse,GirlFriend 1.0 is incompatible with several other applications, such as LadsNightOut 3.1, Football 4.5, and PlayBoy 6.9. Successive versions of GirlFriend proved no better.

I tried a shareware program, Slapper 2.1, but it had many bugs and left a virus in my system, forcing me to shut down completely for several weeks.

Eventually, I tried to run GirlFriend 1.2 and GirlFriend 1.0 at the same time, only to discover that when these two systems detected each other they caused severe damage to my hardware.

I eventually upgraded to Fiancée1.0, only to discover that this product soon had to be upgraded further to Wife1.0. While Wife 1.0 tends to use up all my available resources, it does come bundled with FreeSexPlus and cleanhouse2005.

Shortly after this upgrade, however, I found that Wife 1.0 could be very unstable and costly to run. Any mistakes I made were automatically stored in Wife 1.0''s memory and could not be deleted. They then resurfaced months later when I had forgotten about them.

Wife 1.0 also has an automatic Diary, Explorer and E-mail filter, and can, without warning, launch TurboStrop and Multi-Whinge. These latter products have no Help files, and I have to try to guess what the problem is.

Additional problems are that Wife 1.0 needs updating regularly, requiring ShoeShop Browser for new attachments and Hairstyle Express which needs to be reinstalled every other week. Also, when Wife 1.0 attaches itself to my Saab 93 Convertible hard drive, it often crashes.

Wife 1.0 also comes with an irritating pop-up called MotherInLaw, which can''t be turned off and cannot be deleted without corrupting Wife 1.0 bundled add-ons permanently.

Recently, I''ve been tempted to install Mistress 2005 Beta, but there could be problems. A friend of mine has alerted me to the fact that if Wife 1.0 detects Mistress 2005, it tends to delete all of YourMoney before uninstalling itself.

Help requested please.

Regards

Right, Pay Attention...

2005-05-12T02:27:00.000+01:00

...I've had enough of this.

Directions

1. Leave your house.

2. Make your way to London Heathrow Airport.

3. Catch flight from London Heathrow to Dallas Fort Worth Airport.

4. Hire car at Dallas Fort Worth Airport.

5. Start going toward the "Airport Exit" on "International Parkway South" follow for 0.2 miles.

6. Bear left onto the highway toward "Terminal East Parking" - follow for 0.3 miles.

7. Bear left onto "International Parkway North" toward "North Airport Exit" follow for 2.9 miles.

8. Take the "Highway 114 west" exit toward "Fort Worth" - follow for 29.2 miles.

9. Then continue on US287 north - follow for 91.1 miles.

10. "US287 north" becomes "Interstate-44 east" - follow for 0.7 miles.

11. Take left fork onto "US-287 north" toward "Vernon" - follow for 104.0 miles.

12. "US 287 north" becomes "Avenue F (US-287)" - follow for 2.8 miles.

13. Continue to follow "US287 north" - follow for 104.9 miles.

14. Take left ramp onto "Interstate 40 west" toward "Dumas" - follow for 7.8 miles.

15. Take "Exit 70" onto "US 60 east" toward "Dumas" - follow for 0.5miles.

16. Take the Buchanan Street" exit toward "Dumas/Pampa" - follow for 1.7 miles.

17. Turn right onto "Old Route 66 (Interstate 40)" - follow for 0.1 miles.

18. Arrive at the centre of "Amarillo, Texas".

Now THAT'S the way to Ama-fucking-rillo...

Views From Our Old Flat..

2005-05-11T12:35:00.000+01:00

I rummaged through some more old stuff, and came across some pics I took from the windows of our old flat. We were quite lucky to have a brilliant panoramic view over the whole town, from the High School looking West, over the town itself and over to nearly Dunnett Head on the East. In the distance, you may even be able to see the Orkneys!

the view looking approximately West - including the High School, and just to the left of the block of flats, a small orange-coloured gabled roof peeking out from behind some trees....that's our new place!

The view looking sort of NW, including my old Primary school (long white building in the centre) and the West Church spire.

Looking more towards the north - the West Church again, and St. Peter's Church.

The view looking North, with the mouth of the River Thurso in the centre, and the ruins of Thurso Castle just to the right.

Oh, and if you look closely, that's Orkney (or the cliffs of Hoy to be more accurate) in the distance. Hard to believe that those cliffs are nearly 1000ft high, eh?

One For The Lads...?

2005-05-06T01:12:00.000+01:00

With thanks to Charging Through The Midfield I've managed to come across *cough* the genius of the Fwapometer.

Click, and laugh.

I did.

Rivers Of Fur?

2005-05-04T01:57:00.000+01:00

With the election fast approaching, I’ve decided to refrain from comment. Except for this - Bollocks to the lot of them, lying, cheating, self-serving fuckers that they are…

Last night, our recently emancipated puss was out on the prowl around dusk. We’ve gradually been getting used to him coming and going, marking out his new territory as and where he sees fit. This time however, he may have met his match.

We’re quietly watching Corrie (or she is, I’m reading the excellent “The Times: - Complete History of the World” for some reason) when we hear an almighty screeching, growling, hissing, spitting and yeowling cacophony coming from outside.

The Wife is first to the door, and immediately shouts for the cat. I’m right behind, just in time to see a fat ginger streak bolting into the house, hotly pursued by a black streak that upon the realisation that we’re there stops halfway down the garden path and vanishes around the side of the house.

After some considerable time hiding under the spare bed, our battle-cat emerges and as soon as we approach he’s straight into “Fuck You” mode, and is ready to annihilate anything that moves, while emitting the sort of noise that I’m having trouble explaining…sort of like a low, deep, constant growl coming right from the depths of the stomach.

After a while, he’s beginning to settle, and The Wife spots from the kitchen window the remains of an almighty battle.

Halfway down the path, there are numerous clumps of ginger and white fur, liberally scattered on the ground, and further down there is more. Vast swathes of the stuff. I can see no blood, there are no scratches or broken skin on our brave wee warrior (!), but there’s no sign of black fur on the path either…

My theory is that he’s encountered this other cat, upon whose territory he’s now encroaching, and in the first struggle has managed to fend it off away from the house. Unfortunately, the noise of the conflict alerts us, and The Wife runs to the door shouting his name, thus distracting him from the job in hand (kicking the fuck out of this landlord cat). He takes flight back to safety with just a few clumps of fur lost. But ultimately cheated of victory.

So this means that there is an unfinished job in hand.

I must admit, I’m utterly fascinated by all of this…

I will report any further scuffles, I mean developments later, after The Wife’s stopped peeping about her wee man getting into a fight!

Give Me Freedom...!

2005-04-26T22:56:00.000+01:00

Our cat is a 'House Cat'. He's never been outside since we got him from the local sanctuary. Since we've moved home, and now have a front garden all to ourselves, we thought it would be a good idea to expose him to the delights of The Big Bad Outside World...

The pic below is his first step outdoors in more than six years...

Quickly followed by the thought.."Oh fuck, what the hell is all this..? I'm going straight back in there...at least its isnae windy inside..."

He's been out a few times since then, but after six years of incarceration he probably thinks he's Brooks out of Shawshank prison....

One of these days, I'll find "Hobbes was here" scratched in the garden fence....

Recovered Treasures

2005-04-23T15:28:00.000+01:00

OK? I'm back again. We got our 'phone line installed yesterday, same number as before and we're now using dial-up (no broadband for up to 10 working days) for interwebnet access.

Have spent quite a lot of time unpacking all the boxes after the flit. It's funny the stuff you find when moving house - you know, stuff that's been lying about the place unnoticed or forgotten.

Like the image below. This is a poem that my daughter wrote at school when she was 8 years old, entitled "Boys".

BOYS by Lynn

Boys are yucky
Boys are gross
Boys stick their fingers up their nose
Boys eat snotters, worms and toads,
Boys are something worse than gross
Boys are...BOYS!

I particularly like the use of illustration to show big jars of worms, toads and snotters (neatly rolled up!), and the close-up view of a finger-up-the-nose moment!

My plan was to keep this pinned to our kitchen noticeboard until such time as it would come in useful, like the Father's Speech at her wedding, but as she doesn't seem too bothered about boyfriends so far I thought I'd share it with the WWW instead.

Coming soon - More Recovered Gems....!

Moving House Update

2005-04-12T14:28:00.000+01:00

OK folks, I'm currently using the local library's PC's to update you all! Quite funny because the've blocked access to this 'blog (and most others) because of "Too many or repeated swearwords"!

The move has been successful, everything is now shifted except for a few odds and ends, (like my guitars and stuff!) so I'm off up there to get them shortly.

The cat is now safely moved too, and he's been enjoying the new surroundings. One good thing abut all this is that he will now be able to be let outside. He's never been outside since he was 4 weeks old (he's now 6 years old!), and I'm looking forward to seeing how he copes with the railway track at the back of the house!

We still haven't got a telephone line to the house, but it is due to be sorted out within 2 weeks.....so they say....

So internet access at homew isn't and won't be available for that long either...

I managed to get online on Sunday up at the out-law's, so I'm not totally out-of-touch!

Further updates as and when available....

Enforced Hiatus....?

2005-04-06T23:03:00.000+01:00

I'll be away for a while, due to moving house imminently. The new place has no telephone line yet, and we've been told that the installation of one could take up to 3 months....

It'll be a lot shorter than that, I can assure you...

So, my WorldWideWundaweb access could be severely limited over the forseeable future. I'll probably be able to use the out-law's PC to get a few things done, so I'll try to keep in touch!

Adios for now, hope you check back every now and then!

Site Updates...

2005-04-04T00:06:00.000+01:00

I've added another ouple of sites to my side-bar blogroll thingy...

Check out Birdman's revamped Raised By Chaffinches for some interesting views. He gave up the blogging lark a while back after getting "found out". Thankfully he's back again!

And for some ripe and rude sweary wordies, check out Noreen and Ballbag's Emerald Bile! This is what the interwebnet is all about...quality rants and anonymity!

They're nutters, but funny with it. I must stress that some very bad words are on this site, so if you're under the age of about 16, I wouldn't let your mam and dad supervise. Unless they don't mind...

Gig Update...

2005-04-03T01:45:00.000+01:00

Ended up OK! We played a blinder, after a quick mid-afternoon rehearsal, and we went on at about 9pm, played our stuff and got off stage to a rapturous reception.....

Was a wee bit nervous before-hand, including a wee vomitous bout in the morning which might have been hangover induced, but I don't think so...

We were one of six bands playing:-

*Estrella - Pseudo Bon Jovi clones with headbands, cowboy boots and on-the-knees guitar solos, with a pretentious lead singer who would suck his own cock if he could extract his head from up his own arse for just a minute...

*All Stitched Up - a punk band in the true sense...guitars out of tune, raucous shouting, and each player playing nothing in common with anyone else. Good punk attitude though...

*The Stevie Taylor Fiasco - A collection of classic Rock songs, including Dio's "Holy Diver", Van Halen's "Eruption" (which Stevie played, not me...as if!) and "Paranoid", which one of us managed to fuck-up! (It wisnae me!) Cracking versions of "Perfect Strangers" and "Rock You Like A Hurricane" too. We got plenty of congrats afterwards, but then you get to expect that, and learn not to believe it all. Pissed people talk bullshit far too readily...we did manage to get some chicks dancing, and even one old rocker shaking his dandruff to Deep Purple! Gawd bless you, Gordy!

With a full lightshow, and a 300 plus crowd, the on-stage temperature was into the "fucking hot" level, and I came offstage sweating like Dyer and Bowyer in Souness' waiting room....

*Crimson Tide - a young band from Bettyhill, and by far the most impressive of the night. A brilliant use of dynamics, switching between soft, gentle acoustics to brutal, just-under-control distortion and with some haunting vocals as well. Only negative was the singer reading lyrics from a stand, but maybe he's new. Surely if he'd written the songs he'd know the words..? Look out for them, for I predict they could go far...

*Boss Hogg - a Glasgow based band comprising entirely Thurso-born musicians. They were quite good, and while not my cup o' tea they did come across as quite powerful. As main organisers of this charidee event, they were due a better crowd than they got. A lot of the kids deciding to leg it to the nightclub before it closd.. :(

*Findo Gask - An Inverness band who have been courting a record deal recently. These fuckers were pure mad mental. I spoke to them about half an hour before they went on stage, and they were totally chilled. Cut to 10 seconds into their set, and they're just going mad...singer chap is twisting and turning, staggering on and off stage, tortuously screaming unintelligible vocals, while shouting obscenities off-mic ("FUCKING BITCH" etc.) during interludes...They even managed to create a wee mosh-pit, during which an extremely drunken 30yo-ish fat woman fell on her arse twice...Quality!

All in all, a successful night, with proceeds from the £4.00 ticket price going to the Caithness Nerve Centre, which cares for people with neurological problems.

Bloody Fuckery...Wait For Me...?

2005-04-02T00:25:00.000+01:00

Right, I've got myself a wee bit in over my heid here..

Tonight, as part of a six-band extravaganza of musical delights, I've agreed to play rhythm guitar for the Stevie Taylor Band...

We've had two (2) rehearsals, where we played a couple of Deep Purple songs, a Scorpions number, and "Holy Diver" by Dio, along with one of Stevie's own compositions. We played some more, but I can't remember what. Says a lot, eh?

We sounded good*.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm a crap guitarist, quite simply because I'm not. I'm a damn decent guitarist.

But I'm the type that needs to practice to be better, and in a band situaton, I need to be able to work with the rest of the guys to know when to give and when to go...

So, tonight at 8.30pm-ish, I shall be prostrating myself, and my undoubted musical talents at the feet of the ears of some of the most renowned of local artists, while having no real idea of what I'm supposed to be playing next...

Thank goodness that I've at least got a full head of luxurious, flowing hair** for the undubious headbanging duties.......

I will file a full report afterwards. Or maybe not. depends on whether we were shit or not. Hey ho. Bite me.

*Lies, and shite.
**Utter lies, and utter shite

Quality Rant, Mr Alberto...

2005-03-31T11:57:00.000+01:00

It's not often (in this world of political correctness, and sterile after-match interviews) that a football manager's comments make me laugh.

Gordon Strachan's classics aside, of course..

But Azerbaijan's national Coach, a certain Mr Caarlos Alberto (famous as captain of the peerless Brazil '70 team) came out with some classics after only losing 2-0 to the Mighty World Champions Elect, England.

Read about it here!

OK, so wee Michael Owen responds well, but Alberto says in a few lines what most of the rest of the world thinks of English arrogance...

Who indeed is he?

Has He...?

2005-03-28T03:11:00.000+01:00

First of all, you're not sure what I'm asking - I'll try to spell it out.
Understanding Prince Charles' mind can be difficult, as she's pig ugly.
Child sweet hearts allegedly, but I'd rather have Diana, even dead.
King to be in a few years, with a horse for a wife.
Even the media have got stuck in, the royals have become a joke.
Does anyone think it'll last?

Hope it will last a few years...then hopefully Willy will sort it out.
Erstwhile lovers of the monarchy beware!
Read them their last rights, time is running out

????

Hope you've understood me...?

Bear Necessities.....

2005-03-24T00:43:00.000Z

Ok, this is tricky, so pay attention and follow each step closely.

See this list of words? Say them out loud.

bears
about
talking
idiot
this
kept
i've
long
how
look

First, say the word bears before each of the following words like this:

bears bears
bears about
bears talking
bears idiot
bears this
bears kept
bears i've
bears long
bears how
bears look

Now, say the word bears after each of the following words like this:

bears bears
about bears
talking bears
idiot bears
this bears
kept bears
i've bears
long bears
how bears
look bears

Ok, almost done, so bear with me (hehe). Now say the word bears before AND after each word, like this:

bears bears bears
bears about bears
bears talking bears
bears idiot bears
bears this bears
bears kept bears
bears i've bears
bears long bears
bears how bears
bears look bears

Ok. Last step. Now read these words from the bottom up.

bears
about
talking
idiot
this
kept
i've
long
how
look

Arf!

Real Life? Sorry, I Donated Last Week, Thanks.....

2005-03-18T02:04:00.000Z

Sorry for the lack of recent updates, but the reason for my parsimonious procrastination (in a 'blogging sense!) is THIS.

Got it last week, and haven't left it alone since! I canna help it! It's been a while since something like this has gripped me so much...I mean, 15 hours straight, with only a break for a Champion's League game?

No wonder my eyes are so bad....!

(I won't mention my aching thumbs!)

Transplant Cures Man Of Diabetes

2005-03-09T09:38:00.000Z

As a long-term sufferer, this is just the news I (and many, many others) are delighted to read.

Hopefully this technique can be improved upon, and then made widely available to those who need it most.

All my adult life I've steadfastly believed that a cure could and would be found, but probably for the benefit of the next generation of diabetics. I always thought it would come too late for the likes of me.

But now things have changed! With this ground-breaking news, there is a dim light at the end of a long, long tunnel. But a light none the less....

This news brings a real hope to millions of diabetics all over the world. Looks like science can get some things right after all.....

Note To The Wife...

2005-03-09T01:57:00.000Z

Is beer less fattening than fruit juice?

Answer seems to be "Yes"! I cannae believe it!

Ha ha! Now I've just got to convince my dietician...

Science - It's Got A Long Way To Go Yet...

2005-03-08T23:01:00.000Z

Arm wrestling robots beaten by a teenage girl

TV Off Your Radio.....

2005-03-07T00:18:00.000Z

'Tis a sad day indeed.

The news broke earlier today of the passing of one of the defining Radio DJ's of the short history of modern broadcasting.

This was a man I grew up with. Listening to The Friday Rock Show, with it's signature tune by Van Der Graaf Generator, of all bands!

(Or so I was told! In fact, the clip I've linked to there is by a band called Dixie Dregs and not VDGG...I'd need someone in the know to confirm I'm right here - that it is indeed a VDGG tune! I'm counting on you, Professor!!)

I used to have a worn out C120 cassette which I used to record the whole two-hour show, every week.

I cannot even begin to estimate how many albums I went out and ordered through our local record shop because of something I'd heard on The Friday Rock Show. I still have about a hundred live concert broadcasts from this show.

A young, enquisitive musical mind was honed and enlightened by this man, and his talents.

Thank you, Tommy Vance.

For those about to rock, I salute thee.

See! I Told You....!

2005-03-04T13:03:00.000Z

I remember way back in the beginning of this 'Blog I posted a Quickie about serving two Americans a coffee, and them being flabbergasted when I asked them if they wanted a "white" or a "black" coffee.

Well, I have Conclusive Proof (thanks to Overheard In New York) that it is indeed an "American" thing!

Thank fuck for that, eh?

Scotland's Secret Shame....

2005-03-01T00:43:00.000Z

Well, I watched Panorama last night (Sunday), and the overwhelming feeling I’m left with is utter embarrassment.

I’m a Rangers fan. I have been since I was about 6 years old. I don’t go to games because I live 350 miles away, and it’s too much bother. Call me an “interested observer” if you want.

It’s easy for me to come out with the standard “..but some of my best friends are Catholics/Celtic fans..”, but that’s because it’s true. I was brought up in an area that had virtually no Catholic kids. The first I heard of Catholicism was in Primary 7 when two or three kids were excused from Religious Education because they had to go to Catechism. “Lucky bastards, they’re getting out of R.E.” I used to think!

So I haven’t really got a true idea of the magnitude of the problem in hand. I did have a mate who was a “staunch” (what does that man, by the way? Does it mean what I think?) Rangers fan, and some of the stories I heard about him were truly horrifying. He’d come back from an Old Firm game and regale us with tales of spitting on a wee boy that was wearing a Celtic scarf, or about the kicking that some poor lad got for wandering into the “wrong” pub at the wrong time….but the thing is, he was a good friend, and a wonderfully proud father to his daughter. He wasn’t a bad person per se, except when he was wearing the Blue and someone else was wearing the Green.

For years I’ve heard the songs that come from the terraces, and now stands at Ibrox. I know now of the significance of “Hello, hello, we are the Billy Boys..” and of being “up to our knees in Fenian blood..” and I’ve always been embarrassed when I heard them.

(I even remember being down in England for the Donington festival and being in a local pub in Castle Donington. The (English) lads broke into a chorus of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” only to be rudely interrupted by a young Glaswegian woman singing at the top of her voice about being up to her knees in “Fenian blood” – we just stood and stared at her! WTF has that got to do with anything? Like many of the perpetrators of such things, she obviously didn’t understand what she was singing about or even why she was singing it.)

Even though “Billy Boys” is now sung at grounds across England, at least they seem to have missed the whole point of singing it (for a Rangers fan, anyway). I have no doubts that they don’t mention religion or being up to their knees in anything.

But the thing that annoys me is that because I’m a Rangers fan I am automatically pigeon-holed as a bigot. As someone anti-catholic, anti-Celtic and anti-Irish. Which I’d like to think isn’t true.

I don’t hold any hope for Jack McConnell’s new initiative to combat sectarianism in Scotland. We need to realise (and I’m sure he does) that these people are the most uneducated, imbecilic and stubborn groups of people in our wonderfully diverse country, and as such they will resist any form of change for the better.

Panorama has opened a festering sore that is undoubtedly present in the West of Scotland (and the rest of the country is affected in no small way either), and poked its grubby, sensationalist finger right into the wound. One can only hope that the resulting painful recoil can shock the mindless morons into stepping outside of themselves and having a good hard look at themselves.

But somehow, I doubt it….

At It Again...!

2005-02-28T01:25:00.000Z

Well, The Incredible Falling Down Man has been at it again!

This time, he falls out with his car big style after it breaks down.

He goes out on the piss and gets it into his head that he'd like to do a "Basil Fawlty" on his car, but with a golf club instead of a branch. So off he toddles home, into the house and gets a golf club....

Unfortunately, he's that pissed he can't open his front door again to go out to the car, so decides to take it out on the door itself!

After laying into the door for a wee bit, shattering the wee window and bending the putter a bit, the cops show up and ask him "Hello, hello, hello. What's going on here, then?" to which he replies, as calm as you like...

"I don't know...? I'm trying to hit the car..."

A quick caution from the rozzers and they leave him to it.

When his girlfriend comes home from visiting friends, she's horrified to see the big man gleefully trying to chip bits of broken glass through the broken window with his pitch-wedge....

Best bit though, is that he's got a job interview with Northern Constabulary next Monday!

What do you think his chances are?

Adverts! Ya Gotta Laugh!

2005-02-21T20:15:00.000Z

now, I don't watch much terrestrial telly due to it mostly being shite, but tonight I happened upon an advert for This Stuff.....

I can't believe they'd call it "Boswelox"!

Sounds like bollocks to me.....

FHM o2 Cup Pics

2005-02-17T11:37:00.000Z

A selection of photomographs taken on our trip to Glasgow for the FHM o2 Cup is available Here.

Let us know what you think!

There are more at the FHM site.

Metal Quiz!

2005-02-17T03:33:00.000Z

Not for the faint-hearted, or those who don't know their Heavy Metal stuff!

Click on "Play", bottom left!

I got a score of 2140, and that was using all 3 lifelines, and guessing one of the Euro-metal questions correctly...

Now to be fair, I know my metal...but how am I supposed to know the name of the third drummer of Heelloween????

(Or even how to spell 'Helloween'..!!!!! Arse!)

Window Shopping....?

2005-02-15T21:52:00.000Z

Some things you see in shop windows are just plain wrong...I mean, who on earth thought that this would be a good way to present kid's clothes to the buying public?

I'd bet that it was someone who hasn't got any children.....

(Mind you, we all had a laugh at it!)

FHM Trip - Update

2005-02-10T13:26:00.000Z

This was 'The Incredible Falling-Down Man" mentioned earlier....

Funny thing is that he was back up on his feet again 2 minutes later, banging on the door down the corridor looking for "sugar" for his "coffee"... (Of which we had neither!)

The door was opened (3am) by a middle-aged Spanish lady, who shouted and presumably swore filthy obscenities at him until he slounked off back to his bed, tail between his legs...

We met the offended lady at breakfast the next morning, and she gave him such an evil deek. I don't blame her.

Grovelling apologies were proffered, as expected.

Chris (the offender) is now tee-total. So he says.

Dentist Agony...!

2005-02-09T15:19:00.000Z

Just got back from the dentist.

I'm not the sort who enjoys these types of things, but today's visit to the Dental Hygienist was pure and utter agony, mixed with abject terror, nausea, anxiety and not a little discomfort.

There wasn't a happier man on earth than me on leaving that dental practice today.

Being strapped into a chair and forced to listen to Dolly Parton on their CD player does that to me.....

She (the hygienist) even commented on it - "Why are we listening to Dolly Parton? We must have a better CD than that?" she laughed. But did she change it? Nope, not a chance!

I can imagine her thinking "That'll teach you not to floss!"

Bloody Politicians.....

2005-02-08T11:55:00.000Z

Well done, and congratulations to Ellen MacArthur (and I mean that very, very sincerely).

I'm sure it can't be easy living on a wee boat for 71 days. Only to return to good ol' Blighty and have your moment of glory completely overshadowed by an insensitive, deceptive, band-wagon-jumping, electioneering government's decision to court votes by awarding you a Damehood.

I'm sure she'll wear it with pride.....

FHM Cup Update...

2005-02-03T02:01:00.000Z

OK, I'm back from Glasgow, alive and well (though goodness knows how!)

Football-wise, we managed to make it through to the quarter-finals where we were defeated by a team of youngsters, all fit and fast. Not a beer belly amongst them! Damn their washboard stomachs to hell!

The whole trip was an interesting experience, though. I hadn't realised what a bunch of pure-mad-mental-by-the-way-pal-but idiots they are.

I'll give an example...

Someone who shall remain nameless (Chris Sinclair) stated, quite emphatically that Giant Pandas deserve to be shot. All of them.

Reason being that they tend to have trouble procreating in the wild (never mind in captivity).

"Pandas! Shoot them all! They're too thick to even shag each other! This is a species that doesn't really want to be here! They even eat nothing but bamboo shoots, yet they're carnivorous! Thick as mince!"

"Don't donate money to save the pandas! Shoot the fuckers instead! They deserve to die!"

Quote of the trip though was this, spoken in pure Ned-ish :-

"Has the bin-man been, man?"

"Naw, the bin-man's no' been, man..."

More stories to follow.....including "Cup-A-Soup", "Spanish women at 3.30am" and "The Incredible Falling-down Man"....

FHM Cup - A Wee Trip To Glasgow...

2005-01-29T23:17:00.000Z

Off tomorrow on the train to Glasgow.

My football team got themselves into the Scottish heats of the FHM magazine 6-a-side football tourny to be held on Monday night at the Glasgow Green Football Centre.

So, 8 hours on a train, followed by a visit to a famous Glasgow curry-house followed by a visit to some salubrious Glaswegian pubs. Oh aye, there's actually some football involved too...!

Looks like my photie is going to be in next month's FHM, too...

I'll try to get some digipics of my own. There's going to be a few FHM girls there as well!!!

Much credit to the boys who have raised around £600 to cover travel and accommodation expenses. Means we only have to take beer and curry money!

Will report back afterwards.

Worth A Slap???

2005-01-27T01:42:00.000Z

Read this - then ask yourself...

Would you like to give him (or more importantly, his parents) a right good slap?

I would.

Computers! Damn Them All To Hell.....

2005-01-22T11:31:00.000Z

At last! I'm back online!

I had a wee set-back on Thursday, when my PC crashed. Not your normal sort of crash, but serious. No, make that SERIOUS.

Windows wouldn't boot up, kept getting a screen asking to start in safe-mode.

"OK, that should work, and I'll be able to sort it out, nae bother" says your hapless correspondent.

Some bother later, and I haven't got an effing scooby! So, after fruitlessly asking my whizz-kid nephew for assistance I had to move on to 'Plan B'.

After getting home from the pub (slightly pissed out my face?!?!) on Thursday night, I search out all the old installation cds and proceed to re-install Windows.....

I mean come on, how was I to know that everything (files, settings, mp3's, emails, more importantly all the Wife's stuff too....every-fucking-thing in fact) would be wiped from my hard-drive??

*Repeat after me - "I Must LearnTo Back-Up" *

Ach well, at least the PC is running really fast now, though......

Amerika ist Wunderbar....

2005-01-16T02:47:00.000Z

We're all living in Amerika
Amerika ist wunderbar
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

We're all living in Amerika
Amerika ist wunderbar
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

Wenn getanzt wird will ich führen
Auch wenn ihr euch alleine dreht
Lasst euch ein wenig kontrollieren
Ich zeige euch wie's richtig geht

(If you’ll dance I’ll guide you
Even if you turn to leave
Let go of a little control
I’ll show you how it really goes)

Wir bilden einen lieben Reigen
Die Freiheit spielt auf allen Geigen
Musik kommt aus dem Weißen Haus
Und vor Paris steht Mickey Mouse

(We’re building a beloved dancing circle (round dance)
Freedom plays on the violin
Music comes from the White House
And outside of Paris stands Mickey Mouse)

We're all living in Amerika
Amerika ist wunderbar
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

Ich kenne Schritte die sehr nützen
Und werde euch vor Fehltritt schützen
Und wer nicht tanzen will am Schluss
Weiss noch nicht dass er tanzen muss

(I know which steps are very useful
And I’ll shootout (point out) your mis-steps
And whosoever isn’t dancing at the end
Doesn’t know that they must dance)

We're all living in Amerika
Amerika ist wunderbar
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

We're all living in Amerika
Coca Cola, Wonderbra
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

This is not a love song
This is not a love song
I don't sing my mother tongue
No, this is not a love song

We're all living in Amerika
Amerika ist wunderbar
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

We're all living in Amerika
Coca Cola, Sometimes war
We're all living in Amerika
Amerika
Amerika

This is a song by a German Industrial Metal band called Rammstein. And damn fine it is too. The translations are rough at best, but the general feeling is unmistakeable.

The interesting thing about this song, and the album it is taken from (Reise Reise)is that it seems to be the most successful release they have ever had in the good ol' US of A....

I'll leave you to make up your own minds about that......

Me? A Pie-Eating Champion....?

2005-01-14T02:01:00.000Z

HA! You betcha....!

"CONGRATULATIONS! You finished the pie in 15 bites. You are the new pie eating champion!"

And if enough people ask,I will tell you how I did it..!!!
(It was quite easy, after all those hassles!)

Pie Eating Contest!

2005-01-12T01:19:00.000Z

Try this Pie Eating Contest!

It's driving me nuts!! I can finish it in 16 bites...

Can anyone else do any better?

Mmmm, pie......

God Bless You, Mr McC...

2005-01-07T01:46:00.000Z

Just been watching the new Celebrity Big Brother (I know, I know...) and have been pissing myself laughing!

John McCrirrick has just said:-

1)- "Each fart you do adds 10 minutes to your life (rids the body of poisons!)"

2)- "Picking your nose (and eating it...!) is good for you..."

3)- "It's better to go out with ugly birds, they're more thankful for what they get...!"

Fuck me, J McC! You're not gonna last too long in there, mate!

Spoiling The View....?

2005-01-05T16:43:00.000Z

I don't think so!

There has been much trouble and strife amongst the locals concerning the erection of Wind Farms. Most were against the decision, feeling that they'd be an unwelcome eyesore in our beautifully desolate countryside.

I went out this afternoon and took a few 'photos. These particular windfarms are literally yards from the main A9 south to Inverness. There's about 25 there, in total.

As it was the first time I'd actually seen them, my initial reaction was somewhat subdued. I mean, they aren't really that intrusive, they aren't monstrous carbuncles and they only occupy a couple of old farmer's fields.

The views of Morven and Maiden's Pap are not ruined by them (in fact, as we arrived both were quickly being obscured by a fast moving rainstorm, heading OUR way!) and they seemed to just sit in a field, whirring away quietly to themselves!

In fact, at night I'd like to see them floodlit, with lights on the vanes and everything...!

People travelling up the A9 at night would be able to see thm for miles...

What More Can Be Said...?

2005-01-04T14:34:00.000Z

Well, things have been a bit slow on the blog-front recently.

News-wise, there really is only one story. Tsunami.

I've thought about commenting on the scale of the tragedy, but it's all been said better by others (like Birdman). I couldn't really add anything.

However, there was something I heard last night on the James Whale show on TalkSPORT radio last night that kinda disturbed me.

Apparently (i.e., I have no proof of this! You'll have to take his word for it!) Oxfam last year made something in the region of £64M through their vast range of shops. But the running costs of this empire amounted to around £49M!

As I said, I have no corroboration, no proof except the words of Mr James Whale. He might be wrong.

But if he's right, then please be careful about where and to whom you donate money. It's all too easy to chuck a few quid in the bucket outside Tescos, but how do you know what happens to it after that?

Jings, if even Oxfam can only put 25% of the money donated to a good use, then what of the others?

Here We Go Again...!

2005-01-01T13:34:00.000Z

Ahh, a new year, new opportunities, a chance for new experiences in this big wide ever-changing world...the opening of new doors leading to fantastic new adventures and even the chance of new friendships and relationships...

Same old fucking hangover though.....

Wishing a happy, healthy and wealthy New Year to all!

2004-12-27T13:32:00.000Z

It was a White Christmas after all...!

Merry Chrimbo..!

2004-12-25T01:11:00.000Z

I'd just like to take the time to wish all (i.e., both!)of my loyal readers a warm, wooly, and wonderfully ecstatic Christmas!

May your God(s) go with you.

As St.Noddy of Holder would say...

...IT'S CHRISSSTMASSSS!

'Twas The Night After Christmas….

2004-12-22T17:25:00.000Z

A Christmas Message…

This one goes back a couple of years. It involves alcohol, The Wife, the Police, the Fire Brigade and a smattering of woe. And some rude words…

It was Boxing Night, I'd just finished work at 6pm, and had settled down in the pub for a few pints. I knew that The Wife was working night shift in the Control Room of the local Police Station, and that she was going to her mum's for dinner. I'd have to cook my own when I got home. Ho-hum.

So, a night of excellent drinking japes, and much Bacchanalian buffoonery ensued. As time went on, however, I realised that it was getting late, and I'd not eaten yet. So I made my excuses and left at about 11pm. Well-oiled, as they say.

Back home and starving, I decide to cook up some sausages for my dinner. They were taking ages to cook, so in my (drunken) wisdom, I closed the grill door to keep the heat in. I mean, the sausages will cook quicker, won't they?

Next thing I know, the smoke alarm is peeping away, and there is smoke coming from the kitchen…..

No problem, open grill door, see that sausages are now charred remains, all they are doing is quickly converting themselves into smoke, which is pouring out. Open all the windows and waft a newspaper over the smoke alarm to get it to shut up. Under control.

Cut to The Wife -

She's at work, quietly directing coppers to check the local roads, as the snow has been falling hard. The 'phone rings, and it's the local Command Centre telling her that the Fire Brigade are attending a house fire in the very block of flats where she lives…!

"I hope it's not number 7…" she says, only to be told that it is indeed her house…

So how does she react? With the calmness and composure of a trained member of a stressful Control Room?

"THAT FUCKING, FUCKING BASTARD. I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM!!!! THAT'S MY FUCKING HOUSE!"

As I'd been fanning the smoke alarm, there was a heavy knock at the door. I expected some of the neighbours were getting annoyed at the noise, and were just making sure that I was OK. I open the door, and a swarm of Firemen pour into the house, through to the kitchen to check on the "fire", and upon seeing that there was no danger, back out again…except The Firewoman.

The Firewoman is the wife of a good, good friend of mine, and she stayed behind to give me a few words of wisdom - "YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!", amongst a few others.

(Departing words from the Firemen? "Everything's under control. Hey, have you got any drink?", and when I say "No" they all dive into the flat across from me, where there is some, apparently!)

I also remember a Policeman asking a few questions. Apparently, they have to attend this sort of incident.

What had happened was this-

Our upstairs neighbour had heard the smoke alarm going for a while, and had come downstairs to check. He'd knocked on my door and got no reply, and smoke coming out from under the door, so he went back upstairs and rang 999 to report a fire. It was this knocking that must have aroused me from my alcoholically-induced slumber.

So, when the Police officers get back to the Police Station, what do you think is the first thing The Wife asks them?

"Is my darling husband OK?"
or
"Is the flat badly damaged?"

Nope, not a bit of it - "Is my cat OK?"

In the morning when she got home, she was most annoyed that I hadn't written off the cooker, as she's hated it for years! Halfway up the stairs there was two slices of half-eaten stale bread, which I knew nothing of…I must have tried eating them, as I knew I needed food..!

And by Christ, what an almighty bollocking she gave me though, and I suppose I deserved it….

However, there is a moral to all this..….

The Wife was reminded of this story when she went into work last night, and opened her payslip. There, in big bold letters was the following message:-

"WARNING!! 8 RECENT ALCOHOL RELATED FIRE DEATHS. PLEASE DO NOT COOK WHEN DRINKING. YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!!!."

So everyone, please do not cook whilst under the influence of alcohol - you may not be as lucky as me……..

Human eye 'cannot spot offside'

2004-12-18T01:56:00.000Z

An entirely credible report from the wonderful BBC News website, apart from one glaring error.

Under the column headline "Are You Blind, Referee?", they list the incident in the '86 World Cup where Maradona "allegedly" handles the ball over a sleeping Peter Shilton, and insinuate that Maradona may have been (WAS) offside as well.

Now, far be it from me to point out to the wonderful BBC, but,...

As the ball was played through to Maradona by an England defender, how could he possibly have been offside?

Answers on a postcard to:-

"BBC News Website,
4, We Still
Harbour Grudges Inn,
England"

Mad Friday.....

2004-12-17T01:19:00.000Z

Today is the day known locally as "Mad Friday".

Traditionally, the whole town goes partying today, to celebrate the birth of Christ - by getting as pissed-up as humanly possible, spewing in the streets, abusing the bar-staff, flicking the "V's" at the cops, fighting each other, falling out with spouses, arguing with the Nurses while they insert the stitches and invariably shagging the wrong people. All before tea-time….

Originally started by the workers at the local Nuclear Power Station, "Mad Friday" was always the last Friday before Christmas, as this was the day the Power Station closed for two weeks. As next Friday is so close to Christmas, they are having it a week early this year, just to give themselves time to recover, I expect…

Each department has its own outing, usually to a hotel or restaurant where a Christmas Lunch is served, accompanied by much wine and beer. Then move on to another pub for more libations. And then on to the next pub. Then the next. Until the nightclub opens and the fun really starts..

When you put together about a thousand people, in groups of thirty to forty each, it can lead to problems you will agree. In fact, there are some startling sights to behold.

The day starts at about 11.30am, after leaving work early. Most parties have their meal booked for 12.30 or 1pm, so it's a good idea to get in to the pub early for a few starters. This is where you can suss out the people who could potentially become troublemakers later on. When you get parties like this, it's always the quiet, shy types, the ones who hardly ever go out to pubs, that end up making an arse of themselves. Well, nearly always..

Once the meal is over, it's back into the pub for more drinks, by this time the 'kitty' has started. Now, when you get 40 people, who all drink different things, you'd think that a simple drinks list would be ideal, for both party and bar-man alike. But when 'Sharon from the Canteen' decides that she doesn't really like Rum and Coke - "..it tasted differently when I had it last year…" - then the list has to change.

And it changes endlessly. The lads quickly find that going pint-against-short leaves them with extra pint-age, which they will have to abandon when the time comes to move on. So they switch to their preferred short. The girlies find that endless white wine spritzers just leaves them feeling bloated so they move on to vodka and coke, the standard ladies party drink, or Spiced Rum and coke for the more intrepid. So the list is nothing like it was when it started.

Then there are the 'Fly-guys'…

They are the type who get their drinks like the rest, but wander from table to table, socialising and surreptitiously leaving their drink behind pot plants, on window sills or just abandoned on a spare table. They are trying to stay sober, so as to have the best chances later on in the nightclub… routinely they fail nonetheless.

(The amount of drink I poured down the sink after each group had departed was astounding. Enough to make a jakey cry like a baby…)

Then there are the 'Doublers'…

These are the guys who are just interested in getting as pissed as possible, as quickly as possible. They get their drink from the kitty, down it ASAP, and then go back to the bar individually to buy more. But rather than queue again and again, they order doubles. While there, they invariable meet up with other like-minded souls.

"…And one for my mate Jock, as well. Make it a double…"

The most worrying thing though, is the inappropriate clothing worn by many of the young ladies. Just now we have a snow forecast for today or tomorrow, and the wind is blowing up a gale like normal. Yet we will undoubtedly see skimpy tops, short skirts and bare midriffs galore. And not a warm coat in sight.

Well, it is Christmas is it not…?

As this is the first time in ten years that I haven't worked "Mad Friday", I am quite looking forward to it. I'm making a point of keeping my usual Friday-5pm appointment with The Professor in one of the busiest pubs. I expect I will have to step over bodies just to reach the bar…

70's Ian says he will also be there, but he's out at his "Mad Friday" do, so he may not make it….

UEFA - Heavy Handed Punishment...?

2004-12-14T03:02:00.000Z

Madrid Fined

"Real Madrid CF, meanwhile, have been fined €9,780 following the racist behaviour of some of their supporters during last month's UEFA Champions League game with Bayer 04 Leverkusen. UEFA had instigated disciplinary proceedings following an investigation into incidents at the Santiago Bernabéu on 23 November, which included racist chanting at the German club's black players. Some fans were also seen making Nazi salutes."

Copied and pasted from the official UEFA website:- uefa.com

For me, this is astonishing!

Real Madrid are one of the richest (if not the richest) clubs in the world today. They can boast of at least 6 of the world's greatest current players amongst their ranks, (Figo, Zidane, Ronaldo, Raul, Roberto Carlos and Casillas, in case anyone is mumbling away in the cheap seats..) who command payments from their club far in excess of anything we, as mere mortals, can ever begin to imagine.

So why the flipping fuck are UEFA fining a club whose wealth exceeds that of most African countries (and some lesser European ones too, I may humbly add..) such a paltry sum?

Jesus-effing-forest, what is ten thousand euros to a club like that?

Nothing. Nada. Nicht.

Yet Roma had to play 3 games behind closed doors for being unfortunate enough that a ref was actually hit by an object thrown during a game. If the thrown lighter had missed, absolutely nothing would have been done. Honestly, they are punished because the guy that threw it had a good aim...?

What.
The.
Fuck?

Yet a simple, unequivocal, undeniable affront to decent, dare I say it 'normal' football followers and fans alike, televised throughout the world (and elsewhere) is dealt with in such a derisory way by the rulers of our game in Europe....

What sort of message is UEFA sending out to the supporters of such reprehensible behaviour? The racists and bigots and neanderthal, knuckle-scraping, oxygen-thieving idiots who regularly think nothing of shouting racist and obnoxious abuse, safe in the knowledge that they are beyond reproach?

University Of The Bleeding Obvious...

2004-12-12T03:18:00.000Z

It's gotta be said, The University of the Bleeding Obvious is a top site for humourous stories.

One can only take a step backwards and admire a mind that can come up with Oven Chimps!

The rest of the site is no' bad an' all!

After all the bad news recently, it's good to read some WorldWideWundaweb stuff that makes me laugh out loud....

......?

2004-12-09T23:26:00.000Z

I'm speechless.....and shocked.

How could this happen?

And why?

"Carpe Scrotum"

2004-12-07T13:34:00.000Z

For those interested in a wee rant, have a look at THIS.

You can almost feel his frustration at a country that is literally going to the dogs....

Dear Merriam-Webster....

2004-12-06T02:48:00.000Z

Dear Merriam-Webster,

This blog condemns the incumbent electoral insurgent commonly known as George W. Bush, and the way he ignores the wishes of his people, treating them as nothing more than a hurricane-tossed cicada from his lofty position at the helm of his peloton of self-approved partisan sovereignty.

Defenestration would be fitting......

Kind regards,

The Man Behind The Bar....

Spelling Is Not Child's Play.......

2004-12-05T21:33:00.000Z

Of course it is....?

As one who prides himself on his spelling skills, (it was one of the few things I was Top Of The Class at) it seems that I approached This with somewhat misplaced confidence...

Shite! Only 5 right?

That's right.

5.

FIVE.

Thank fuck it didn't cover grammar as well!

I'm going to get pelters from The Professor about this...

Canny Scots Create Muckle Archive...?

2004-11-30T15:59:00.000Z

Today is St. Andrew's Day.

BBC News reports that an online archive has been created which aims to record the Scottish dialect in all it's glory.

Some of them have to be seen to be believed! I'm quite sure that, much like the language of Shakespeare and Pepys, most of these words are now defunct. And long may they remain so....

Honest to fuck, who uses the word 'sonsie' anymore? Just people reciting Burns, that's all!

These words are DEAD! Let them lie.

And none of the local Caithness dialect words are included (no "Scorrie" or "Deek" or "Boug" for instance)....but then, maybe we are not Scottish?

Have a deek at the site here.

Interesting Music Site....?

2004-11-28T01:25:00.000Z

Found THIS on the electrical interwebnet and thought it was interesting.

What you do is enter your favourite musical artist, and the site draws a sort of mind-map of other related, or similar artists.

I searched for "Freedom Call", and found out about "Rhapsody" and "Avantasia" who are both quite similar in style.

I've no idea how extensive it is (it doesn't recognise some of my more obscure tastes - no "Life After Death" or "Princess Pang" for instance!), but well, I thought it was interesting!

Go on, give it a go, you know you want to....

Music Piracy? I Feel Another Rant Coming Along.....

2004-11-24T01:59:00.000Z

I got an MP3 Player for my birthday recently, and have spent the last couple of weeks studiously filling it with MP3s ripped from my *extensive* CD collection...

I have also illegally downloaded quite a few albums worth of tracks via a P2P file sharing program, and have transferred them on to said player with no qualms concerning music copyright whatsoever.

The reason for this cavalier attitude is quite simple.

I am a music fan. I like music. I want to have music.

Why should I not have access to music? As a *pretend* musician myself, I understand the copyright laws as much as the next man. I realise that by downloading Judas Priest's "British Steel", I'm shirking my responsibilty to the music industry, and depriving a band I have always quite liked of the princely sum of (in this case) £7.99 (which they really must need to keep all their legal battles against each other going...).

But, as I already have paid for this particular album 20 odd years ago, why should I have to pay for it again? It's just the medium that has changed.

Is it against the law for me to play my old "British Steel" cassette into my PC, and rip the tracks onto my MP3 Player? I don't think so...I paid for that - it's fucking mine!

So, what's the big deal?

OK, so I have also downloaded a few albums that I haven't heard before - "Dance Of Death" by Iron Maiden for one, but in all honesty I really wouldn't have bought this without hearing it anyway. And after listening to it quite a bit, I don't think it is worthy of my cash...I never contemplated buying it before, and my original decision has been vindicated.

Similar with "Toxicity" by System Of A Down - now I have downloaded it, and actually quite like it so far, I most likely will go out and buy the CD, just because I can then have it properly on CD. So SOAD (and the whinging multi-national music company conglomerates, who earn multi-millions of dollars selling bollocks like Britney and Ashlee Simpson to impressionable kids) get a positive result through file sharing!

I remember well the campaign in the early 1980's - "Home Taping Is Killing Music!" with a skull and crossbones underneath, plastered on nearly every LP and cassette.

All I can say is" "Utter Tosh"...

If home taping was killing music, how come music has survived, in fact no, how come it has flourished? It can't have been the campaign, as everybody ignored it! Everybody borrowed albums off each other and copied them at will! Now with CD burners, it still goes on....

There's one thing that gets on my tits, though.

How come, if the music industry is losng so much money through file-sharing, they can still afford to produce the type of musical diarrhea that gets into our "Charts" every week? Who buys this crap?

If the music industry spent more money on A&R, signing proper musicians who can actually play and sing, and even write their own songs, and promoting their songs in musical collections, or "Albums" instead of fly-by-night one-hit-wonders, then perhaps they would see a return on their outlay....

Instead of mercilessly ripping off the poor 10 to 14 year olds who only now what to like through reading fashion comics and watching Saturday morning kids television....

"The Only Thing I Know Is That I Know Nothing...."

2004-11-21T02:57:00.000Z

Every now and then sport throws up an interesting, or amusing, or downright unbelievable story.

And THIS definitely qualifies under the latter category!

FFS, what's the reasoning behind Socrates agreeing to play for a non-league team in Yorkshire? Why on earth would he ever agree to do such a thing?

As I said, unbelievable!

*OK, come on then footie-fans, which ageing foreign (preferably Latin/South American) former superstar would you like to see signing for your local pub team? I like the idea of Gigi Riva and Teofilio Cubillas...imagine how good they'd be now...!

Band Aid 20 - A Follow Up....

2004-11-19T02:59:00.000Z

A just found THIS on Twenty-Major's 'blog, and laughed myself a bit silly...

Very funny, and yet so true...!!

They should have written a new focking song.....

Racism & Xenophobia.....

2004-11-18T14:54:00.000Z

So, a wee bit of a dust-up over in Madrid last night?

Everyone seems to be jumping on the bandwagon here, criticising the racist monkey-chants from a small section of the Bernabeu crowd.

I'm not making excuses for it, but it's an issue which was stoked by the media into an unlit petrol-doused bonfire, just awaiting a spark.

Undoubtedly, there were ugly chants directed at Ashley Cole and Shaun Wright-Philips. I heard them.

But, why were these chants not aimed at Rio Ferdinand or Jermaine Jenus? And why did the chanting stop after Ashley Cole was subbed? Jermaine Defoe, Cole's replacement, was ignored by the thugs. Why?

And in the aftermath, why has the talentless, sterile performance by the England team been ignored also? Or Rooney's dishonourable behaviour in throwing his black armband (to commemorate an England legend) to the ground in disgust?

Here's the Spanish Press reaction (as provided by the good ol' Beeb!).

And as an aside, I noticed last night's commentator (I forget who?) mentioned the fact that Scotland were 4-1 down at home to Sweden, with the comment "And Sweden don't even have a full squad!"

Well for your information, nor did Scotland......

But then we expect that sort of reaction from these people.

In my opinion, it's time some people stopped whinging about racism in a foreign country, and instead looked at the inherent xenophobia that pervades their own country.....

Band Aid - Bollocks, it is....

2004-11-17T17:22:00.000Z

Band Aid 2004, it's bollocks so it is.

I heard it on radio today, and the rumours are true.

They can't sing it. They all sound out of tune. They all are out of tune!

No surprise there, then. Modern 'Pop' music is shit (v. 281).

We'd all be better off donating to a worthwhile charity instead.

At least then we won't have this god-awful cd cluttering up our beloved music collections (which we have spent decades building up, and which contains NO crap cds or records*).

I urge you all to make a small, meaningful donation to a charity of your choice instead of inflicting misery on your nephews and nieces this Chrimblemas. I'm sure they will understand......

*Except for the ones the Wife has bought - most of them are kept hidden from prying eyes. And no point in telling me that G'n'R-Appetite For Destruction is yours, so you must have musical taste my dear - I can throw back Elton John, Bryan Adams and Bon Bloody Jovi at you , just to prove my point....

What Kind Of Metal?

2004-11-11T16:31:00.000Z

Thanks to Mosh for this!

You are traditional/thrash metal. Iron Maiden and
Metallica are representive of you. Air raid
siren vocals, distorted melodies, brisk paced
songs, lots of technical solos and of course,
terrible taste in clothing and hair styles.

What sub-genre of metal (music) are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I Woke Up This Morning....

2004-11-11T13:15:00.000Z

...at 0600hrs, laughing my sleepy head off!

I'd rolled over in bed, and accidently nudged the wife with my knee. She thought she must have been hogging all the bed and rolled over towards the side to give me more space.

Unfortunately, she promptly rolled out of bed with a "thud-ud-ud-ud....." before sheepishly jumping back in.

It took me half an hour to stop laughing!

Cat Experiment (Part 2) - The Hobbes Effect

2004-11-09T21:34:00.000Z

Here are the latest results from the Great Catnip Experiments.

What a ruse, I thought. Apply liquid catnip to the tail of a cat! Would said puss react favourably towards its own tail? I originally conducted this experiment on my own cat, to general indifference.

I then wondered (scientifically, of course!) whether the application of catnip to one cat would elicit a response from another cat?

Having passed the liquid catnip to 70's Ian, he proceeded to liberally douse one of his five cats with said fluid, and retired a safe distance to record the expected stramash....

Apparently, almost the same thing happened with his cats as happened with mine!

Nothing! Just some curious sniffs at the area affected, and then a general ignorance, from both the cat affected and the others who were unaffected.

My scientific findings can reveal that my previous theoretical formula (a + b = √c)* holds true. This is henceforth to be known as 'The Hobbes Effect', after my original guinea-cat.

With this scientific corroboration, can I now apply for Government funding to further investigate this new-found scientific phenomenon? These findings open up a whole new world of further unanswered questions.

For instance, what would happen if catnip was applied to another living creature, say, a dog? Would the intoxicating cat-nippiness be similarly subdued?

Further revelations as and when they are, er, revealed!

*(Where a = cat, b = catnip and c = fuck all.)

Och, Berti, My Berti....

2004-11-02T01:40:00.000Z

So the tabloid morons finally get their wish, and Berti resigns....

Worst of the criticism has arguably come from Charlie Nicholas and Gordon McQueen, both respected former Scotland internationals.

I remember both when they played for Scotland, and although Gordon helped provide some happy memories (especially a win or two against the Auld Enemy), Charlie's Scotland career was strangely subdued - perhaps because he was such an under-achieving waster, a Scottish George Best if you will. He undoubtedly had the talent, but never quite managed bring it with him every match day. More famous for his mullet and 'Champagne Charlie' lifestyle than his goals.

And now, repackaged as a Sky Sports anal-yst, he brings mediocrity to new levels...
(Quite how a man of such limited intelligence can make a handsome living at a job which requires a modicum of linguistic ability leaves me speechless. Much like I'd prefer Charlie, in fact...)

So now that MacBerti has chucked it, do we now see Charlie & Co. sending CV's to Hampden, applying for the vacant job?

Do we fuck.

Why?

Because these people know nothing about the game, or how to manage a team (never mind the National Team).

And anyway, they know more than most that waiting in the wings there is always some talentless tosser waiting to hammer them for every unpopular decision, every mistranslated quote, and every unfortunate defeat.

These lap-dogs have made quite enough money out of this 'schadenfreude', and I for one am not happy about it...

Anyway, good luck Berti, and I hope you can finally get to meet up with Charlie Nicholas and the rest to discuss your Scotland career.....hopefully down a dark alley, with a baseball bat in your hand.

Popular Music is Shit...Official...Again...

2004-10-26T17:51:00.000+01:00

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?

Comedy Genius....

2004-10-26T17:29:00.000+01:00

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!

Sunday Prayers....

2004-10-24T01:34:00.000+01:00

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....

Primary School Football

2004-10-21T13:41:00.000+01:00

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.

Ever Met Anyone Famous...?

2004-10-21T00:36:00.000+01:00

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?

Hans-Hubert's Last Stand...

2004-10-13T23:15:00.000+01:00

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....