NME VS Festive Fun

I’ve been putting off writing an article on NME for a rather long time now. I’ve been hoping, nay preying, to appear on one of their enthralling Cool Lists for many years and I thought perhaps criticising there lazy tabloid journalism would be a sure way of ending my hopes of that accolade. That was until I read Luke Lewis’s internet article about the massively popular Rage Against The X-Factor campaign, then I thought you know what? There is no way in hell I’d ever be NME-worthy cool anyway. I’ll just hope to be spotted vomiting on Pete(r) Doherty and hopefully NME will twig that the pastey little gits powers of genius actually stem from the contents of other pastey little gits stomachs being sprayed periodically into his uber-talented mush.

I originally joined the Rage Against The X Factor group when it was on about 20,000 members. I’ve watched it steadily grow through the last 5 days or so and, as I write this, it’s currently hovering around the 430,000, a remarkable achievement. I fully intend to buy the single 3 times over next week from 7Digital, iTunes and Play. I am not doing this because I hate the X Factor. The X Factor doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact those two spiky haired twerps with one name are some of the accidentliest hilarious spectacles I’ve seen since first laying eyes on R Kelly’s Hip-Hopera Trapped In The Closet. I am going to buy Rage Against The Machines Killing In The Name because the idea of it being Christmas number 1, or even number 2, is fucking funny.

There is absolutely no reason why it’s a bad campaign. The group has been affiliated with the charity Shelter, which I believe is getting many donations through the group. This tied with the inevitable increase in X Factor single sales, which also donates proceeds to charity, the benefits are great for the non-profit sector. The song is an amazing one, and was criminally overlooked for number one back in 1992 by Charles and Eddie’s Would I Lie To You. Also how fun is it going to be trying to explain to your Nan at Christmas time who Rage against the machine are!? When Kate Thornton is on ‘Top 100 Quirky Moments of the Noughties’ in 8 or so years time, pointlessly explaining how nobody saw it coming, I will still be laughing.

Luke Lewis’s article is typical of NME’s elitist stance on music. Whenever I’ve read the magazine I can’t help but cower up at the sky every few moments in fear that the gods at NME headquarters will ambush me and my iPod for listening to Mika (you’ve got to admit its catchy) then kidnap me, place me in a room in Shoreditch naked but for the words ‘I’m not worthy’ scrawled in my own blood across my forehead, and encourage men with skinny jeans to laugh at me until my whole feeling of individuality has been ripped away from me and I’m left weeping, pounding the ground and cursing my affection for Snow Patrol.

The article starts off by insulting all members of the group, suggesting we’re all like ‘Kevin the Teenager’ (despite later slating the choice of song for being too old) then goes on to speculate the Simon Cowell ‘probably has shares in Sony’ and therefore will still be making money off the sale of the single. That’s not journalism, that’s speculation and even if it’s true I’m sure Cowell will see about 25p of the £400,000 odd pounds RATM would need to grace the coveted spot.

Do you think such a negative article would have been written if the group was trying to get one of NME’s flavour of the moment’s to get to number one? Probably not, but hey, I don’t like to speculate. Mr Lewis doesn’t mention the charity angle at all and that’s a shame. He does make some interesting points on the hypocrisy of it all. But anyone who’s been on the group page has read hundreds of people talking about the irony of it all (in many cases much more convincingly than NME) yet has chosen to continue recruiting and promoting anyway. And sure the song is a call to arms and wasn’t intended to be used in this way, but I’m sure Zach De La Rocha doesn’t give a flying fuck, and the suggestion of racism is just inflammatory bullshit. The kind you’d expect at a secondary school debate when all rational arguments have been used up.

The article explains how it is all pointless really (he even handily puts it right in the title) ‘because Even if all 300,000 members of the RATM Facebook group bought the track – which of course they won't – it'd still be dwarfed by the inevitable monster sales of Joe McElderry's winning song’. He’s right. Fuck it. Let’s give up. Let’s all 400,000+ give up. Luke Lewis told us to. Because what’s really the point of doing anything like this? To loosen an increasingly stale formats grip on the charts? To try and damage Simon Cowell’s Susan Boyle sized ego? To hear ‘fuck’ on the radio on Christmas day? To see your disgustingly right wing Aunt and Uncle bitch and moan about it at the dinner table whilst casually throwing racial slurs like they were asking for more roast potatoes? Whatever the reason it’s generally just a good bit of fun, something the NME has forgotten about in the last 10 years or so.

I’ll go further into the NME another time because, well, I just can’t help myself. But for now I’d urge anyone reading this between December 13^th and December 20^th to buy ‘Killing In The Name’, even if it’s just to irritate Luke Lewis at NME.

Sign up here

http://www.facebook.com/#/group.php?gid=2228594104&ref=mf

See the original article and make your own mind up here

http://www.nme.com/blog/index.php?blog=10&title=rage_against_the_machine_for_christmas_n&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1

Jonathan Hatch in new blog shock horror.

Hi folks. Thought I’d come out of my self imposed hiatus after splitting up due to creative differences or some shit. Seriously I’m very sorry for my lack of blog action I’ve been a very busy boy. However today my train has been stupendously delayed so I actually have an hour or two free. I will try my best to not be so shit from now on, but don’t hold your breath. Anyway please enjoy this little filleted chunk of blogfish.

LOL!!!

‘Lol I think we must’ve missed each other lol’ Now is the second lol really necessary? If you insist on ‘lol’ing surely with such a short sentence one lol would suffice? Or was the incident in which this sentence refers so side splittingly funny that the author burst in to laughter first at the thought of the incident and then upon the exclamation of the incident? And most importantly will lol eventually take over actual laughter in real life? I just have an image in my head of going to watch the latest movie starring Eddie Murphy and a fat suite and the whole of the delusional audience exclaiming ‘lol!’ At the site of Mr Murphy breaking wind. I think of these things and I die a little inside.

I enjoy facebook. On the most part it has been an extremely useful way of getting in touch with old friends, sharing amusing photos of drunk people jumping off things they wouldn’t jump off when they’re sober and generally giving my friends terrible banter in an attempt to embarrass them in front of people who aren’t ‘mutual friends’. I like the idea that it gives everyone a voice and encourages people to get involved with worthy causes, and I like the idea that it’s non-discriminating and promotes multiculturalism. What I don’t like is fucking ‘lol’ing, ‘wtf’ing and ‘omg’ing.

Now, as was pointed out to me quite recently, ‘haha’ makes you sound like a drunken sailor (apparently) and ‘hehe’ing just makes you sound utterly ridiculous and a little bit creepy. There aren’t really any other ways of expressing your amusement without looking like a dick head. You could write ‘that’s so funny’ but then you just sound patronising and honestly who has the time. ‘wtf’ should not be used because an exclamation of this magnitude does not warrant an abbreviation. For example, in normal everyday conversation if you found out that Peter Andre was divorcing Katie Tits you wouldn’t blurt out ‘What the fuck!?!?!’ you’d probably say ‘that’s a shame’ or ‘who the hell cares’. However if you caught your brother sleeping with your wife you probably would shout ‘what the fuck!?!’ however. You almost certainly wouldn’t shout ‘WTF?’ And as for ‘omg’ essentially you’re using the lord’s name in vein so you’re being blasphemous and a dickhead.

If you’re having a bad day chances are at least 30% of your facebook ‘friends’ are having a bad day as well. The difference is they’re not telling everyone. If you’re having a bad day ring a friend, go for a drink and blub away to someone who genuinely cares. It is very unlikely that people are going to show sympathy, especially if you specify what’s wrong. Example time. If you change your status to ‘missed 2 trains and got shouted at by my boss my life’s shit!’ the person who has just caught there brother sleeping with his wife will throw his personal computer off a bridge out of sheer annoyance. Trust me, very few people care. The few that do are on the end of your mobile telephone.

No photo albums dedicated to new pets. I’m very happy that you’ve finally found love in the shape of a stupid little dog which never actually walks anywhere and wears a sweater but I don’t need to see 103 photos of the mutt with comments such as ‘lol sooo cute’ underneath. It makes me want to repeatedly hit my head against a brick wall until I can no longer think or act for myself, eventually dying poor and lonely in a third rate nursing home where the carers put make up on me whilst I sleep and swap round my colostomy bag with my drip, never remembering what happened before ‘the incident’.

I could go on but you all know the other problems. To be fair you can do what you want with facebook, I only say these things because I’m a pedantic bastard. I’m just expressing what countless hundreds of other pedantic bastards are thinking every time they see new photo albums called ‘Robert the parrot making me feel less shit about my life lol’. Don’t get me started on twitter!

Fantasy Football Forums

I know, I know! A new blog only a week after the last one! It's basically because I have no life. I'm currently watching Britains Got Talent for goodness sake! (Jamie Pugh's lost it!) Now I didn't write most of the content I'm about to present. I have been aided by several friends of mine. Lets set the scene. Basically I take part in an online fantasy football league with a group of my friends and there is a forum which everyone writes on. If you don't like football bear with it as its not about football really at all. I also need to point out that the views expressed are entirely fictional and the people that wrote them are not like that. So without further ado here are the Lamb Invitational forums. Enjoy!

10th September 12.41
New Team Hatchmiester chairman Shakleberry Gizlington has expressed shock and dissapointment at the start which his fellow Ramsbury clubs have made in the world famous Lamb Invitational. 'Its an embaressment! last season 4 of the top 5 were Ramsbury teams. this season so far all of the bottom 6 are ramsbury boys! they're giving the village an awful name!' He went on to attack the new boys The Super Toads. 'Flash in the pan. thats all they are. a glorified flash in the pan almost like the darkness! they'll be at the bottom quicker then you can say Guntadon!' So far no other club has been available for comment.

10th September 18.59
New chairman of whack hammer united fc, Hank Olof Berserker, known by many as H.O.B especially by his best mate 'GAS lipstick' (the drummer from H.I.M) would like to take this opportunity to formally introduce himself. Hi. Apparently Hob has replied to Shakleberry gizlington over the phone to "see you next tuesday". "These are still early days and one must not dither on early standings in the championship race as things could change as quickly as Michael Jacksons next horrendous face lift!"A rather rude remark from the newby also suggested that he was disappointed with the rising number of gunts on show at football matches. His reasons suggested that more seats were being taken up by bigger people who were taking up two seats and restricting the number of ticket sales which is restricting the profits that should end up in his back pocket for a spot of gambling or a trip to Amsterdam for him to enjoy himself.

11th September 17.51
Glazed Ham FC's new owner/chairman Jewish billionaire Dr Jeremiah Hamsteinberg has officially completed his takeover of the club. Hamsteinberg made his fortune in his international ham trading company, known as 'Ham-Corp', who incidentally will be the club's shirt sponsor this season. Upon hearing about Gizlington's outburst, Hamsteinberg kindly replied "I fully agree with Mr Gizlington. As two time champions, this club has a responsibility represent the village in a positive manner. I intend to talk with the manager and provide him with funds in order to take the club back to where it belongs. Right at the top !". Rapturous applause followed from all the journalists, who were obviously impressed by the rich Jew. Dr Hamsteinberg has recently outlined plans for takeaway glazed ham stalls at all Lamb invitational games, as well as plans to help the club establish itself as the most famous club in the whole of Wiltshire.
Chief football writer, Benjamin Baconscrot, GHTV

19th October 17.09
"I fucked up" were the clear words from the half Swedish half Texan chairman of whack hammer united fc last night whilst discussing the current season on the late edition of filthy soccer radio. His disappointment was shown along with his new first team coach and HOBs close friend Gas Lipstick (the drummer from H.I.M),who also stated that the decision to leave danger man zaki out of the squad replaced by Carlton Cole was about as helpful as giving Gary glitter the keys to a nursery.
More to follow on filthy soccer radio.

27th October 11.32
We will prevail!",this is the message that headlined the Pogatetz Gazzette this morning after The Super Toads have now risen and returned to the position in which none can argue they rightfully deserve. Manager "Bertie Bullfrog" was every bit the optimistic and charasmatic figure we know and love in his post match interview, although some did not appreciate remarks made towards faultering rivals "Team Hatchmeister" due to their obscene content, this is the war cry of a highly competitive and successful coach. Time will only tell which of the chasing pack have what it takes to challenge the "Bullforg-Super toad" combination that contains such knowledge and quality.
Rodney Marsh,St Matts sports review

27th October 13.59
Team Hatchmiester chairman Shakleberry Gizlington has responded to Bertie Bullfrogs comments aim towards his team with the calm and composure you'd expect from a 3 time world darts champion. 'I learnt from my days at the old lakeside that if someone tries to get in your face you should just turn the other cheek... unless they have darts in there hand.' Gizzlington went on to say 'The Supertoads are everything thats wrong about this great sport. brash, cocky and most importantly overconfident. we'll see who's on top come the end of the season.' He also used the words 'twisted little fuck' and 'i saw him felate his grandfather once' but this was off the record so therefore not publishable.
Stelios Von Collander, Southville Football Frenzy Fanzine

7th November 18.15
Glazed Ham Weekly - the informative ham magazine £2.50This week in Glazed Ham Weekly, "How Cured Ham Cured My Cancer".
PLUS interesting conspiracy theories, such as there actually being millions of pounds worth of Glazed Jew Ham stolen from the Nazi's and kept in Swiss banks.
LEGEND of the Pork sword. An Ancient tale suspects that beneath Buckingham Palace there is actually an ancient shrine to Glazed Ham guarded for generations by the Queens ancestory. It is said that deep underneath the palace lays the legendary Pork Sword. Legend says that the one who slays the Queen with the Pork Sword will reign as King and live forever.
EXCLUSIVE interviews with Glazed Ham FC chairman Dr Jeremiah Hamsteinberg on his teams slow start and the Glazed Ham Guzzler himself Marlon Harewood talks about how glazed ham changed his life.
Steven Sausagerington, Editor of Glazed Ham Weekly

9 December 13.10
A spokesman for the Bottom Of The Table Owners and Managers union (BOTTOM) roundly condemned calls from some managers for Jack Chatfield to withdraw his team. In response to Joe Skeaping's request for a 'case for the defence', he retorted that 'perhaps those against Chatfield should look at his performance for the last gameweek. He came fourth'.The spokesman also reacted angrily to James Leake's claim of 'being mid table', saying 'he's one of us', and added that 'no one wants to be part of BOTTOM but we're there for when things go wrong. Some of the managers who have had some luck recently may be joining us fairly soon'. In a thinly-veiled reference to the unlikely stint at the top for Joe's Mercenaries, he reminded the press conference of 'the well known saying in football: pride comes before a Skeaping'

9 December 14.54
As Chatfield-gate enters its second week, Mercenaries Chairperson Gladys Muckraker shrugged off demands to restrain her intemperate language and conduct, issuing a further attack on the struggling manager Jack Chatfield. 'I don't know who the fuck he is', said the foul-mouthed millionairess from Birkenhead, 'but I wouldn't piss on the bastard if he was on fire.' Meanwhile she celebrated the Mercenaries strong start to the campaign by throwing big piles of cash into the air and shouting, in comments directed at an unknown club manager, 'I own this league and if that big-nosed wanker doesn't like it he can fuck off an' all.' She also stood by struggling striker Carlton 'shit-for-brains' Cole, guaranteeing his place in the squad until 'at least the next gameweek, otherwise we'll lose four points.'

10th December 15.18
Team Hatchmiester chairman Shackleberry Gizlington has finally broken his silence over contreversial comments made towards unknown bottom of the table club Cacks Glory XI. in a wild and, perhaps, acid fueled press conference Gizlington slurred 'I cant believe there has been so much debate! its like the UN discussing Moldova's attempt at taking over Russia! i personally dont think he's worth the oxygen it takes to discuss such matters!' Gizlington, who's side sit comfortably third in the distinguished lamb invitational, added ' I'm going to treat Mr Chatfield like my gay son. I'm going to show him no support and ignore him!'
Stefan Von Kinkladze - The Brislington Bugler

17th December 15.03
"That f**ker is a lying ginger c*nt" splurted Team Hatchmiester chairman Shackleberry Gizlington, spilling his goblet of pigs blood. "How can that useless little pr*ck accuse my man of fraud when he has managed to get himself a job at marlborough college!" the outburst was, of course, aimed at Joe's Mercenaries manager Joe Skeaping who, this week, claimed that Team Hatchmiester manager Jon Hatch released a statement to the press pretending to be him. "Fraud? the man is top of the Lamb Invitational! thats not only fraud thats theft!" So far no one in the Joes Mercenaries camp has been available to comment, prompting many other chairmans and managers in the global phenomenon that is the Lamb Invitational to suggest that they may be scared.
Derick Vin Diesel - Clifton Chronicle

19th December 13.13
After a dignified period of silence following the unhinged outburst of Shackleberry Gizlington OBE (services to the hardcore pornography trade), Mercenaries Chairperson Gladys Muckracker defended her manager Joe Skeaping in an interview with an offshore pirate radio station. "He's come from nowhere, a terrible school on an outlying Swindon estate to becomea leading fantasy league manager and an accomplished and rigorous history teacher, rated a resounding 'satisfatory' in a recent Ofsted survey."Her eyes now bulging out of her head, she then launched an unprecedented attack on Gizlington: "I'll tell you this, when that lanky dicksucker said what he said about a man like Mr Skeaping, he went down in my estimation. If he tries to pull a stunt like that again, I'm going to put a gun up his arse and pull the trigger until it goes 'click'".
Carlton Cole was unavailable for comment.

13th March 18.52
Enigmatic Team Hatchmiester chairman Shackleberry Gizlington has launched a sensation attack on champions and the team currently in the best form Glazed Ham FC, accsing them of using banned substances to aid there ascent up the table.'There is definately something dodgy going on' spluttered Gizlington whilst chewing on a human arm. 'They must be injecting steroids into ther glazed ham feasts because no one is that good!' Gizlington, commonly known as the Ede Armene of the footballing world then went on a highly anti-semetic rant about 'Hams owner. 'He is a hooked nosed, money grabbing c*nt' Gizlington exclaimed before fainting from too much cannibalism.Hamstienberg was unavailable for comment.
Collinder Vin Mclintoc - www.footballerssaythefunniestthings.com

20th March 17.58
Speaking exclusively to Glazed Ham Weekly about Gizlington's outburst.Hamsteinberg stated "These outrageous comments by their chairman are totally unfounded, whilst it is true that we have recently employed Dwain Chambers as our new sprint coach, we can assure you that no drugs being used. We have found the occasional use of Sherbet Double Dips directly injected into the sphincter can enhance the performance of a player by 50%."Upon hearing the anti-semetic comments directed at him, Hamsteinberg decided to fight fire with fire."Well that Jipsy cunt can go fuck himself, maybe he can go tarmac some fields and have some more kids with his sister.", Hamsteinberg was referring to Gizlington's jipsy roots, where he grew up in a caravan in Jipsy city off the M4 near swindon.After his attack Hamsteinberg left to finalize a new deal for superstar Marlon Harewood, which is rumored to be worth 200,000 pounds of ham a week.

21st March 11.18
Head of the LIFL Lamb Invitational Football League, Maurice Mont-Guntolac today came out to make a statement about the racist comments made by chairmen Shackleberry Gizlington and Hamsteinberg of Glazed Ham."When I heard that two managers from my league came out and made comments such as this, I felt shocked. I was shocked that they did not push the envelope enough. Gizlington had not even commented on Hamsteinberg's power hungry nature and clawed hands. "Obviously I was pleased that a response was forthcoming, there is nothing worse than provoking someone with racist insults, only for them to ignore you like a big scared girlie fuck. However, again, the conservative nature of this league's managers was evident. Gizlington was not even mentioned in the same sentence as tax dodging, crystal balls or even illicit bare knuckle boxing."

27th March 8.19
After remaining quiet for some time it is apparent that Hank Olof Berserker has joined the fray of heated debates going on in the Lamb invitational. After a scheduled managers meeting in a pub of choice (The Queens Gunt). HOB (outrageously drunk on sambuca and jagermeister straight up) is reported to have taunted Hamsteinberg after they finished 2 points behing Whack Hammer in the Game Week. "Hey Hamstenberg" Hob is recalled saying "Check this out", before launching a huge greeny into the bottom of Hamsteinbergs pint of fosters and baileys mix. Hamsteinberg reportedly lunged for HOB before Gas Lipstick (The drummer from H.I.M) stepped in the way knocking him out with instant effect. Further to this HOB went on to splutter to all other managers in the league, getting up on a table with a loud speaker and chanting over and over "needle dick, needle dick, needle dick!"- Soon after HOB was escorted off the premises by the police and spent the night in a cell.(Malfred Jerk-wanger-Shlonge reporting - Footballer's tackles magazine)

April 3rd 00.34
Tragedy struck the ground breaking Lamb Invitational today when news surfaced that Whack Hammer Chairman Hank Olof Berzerker's best mate Gas Lipstick (The drummer from H.I.M) had been eaten by Team Hatchmiester chairman Shackleberry Gizzlington. Mr. Gizzlington has now been sectioned after he appeared wearing only a zebra skin loin cloth at the top of canary wharf with one of Mr. Lipstick's eyeballs screaming 'I'm King Kong you bastards!' before proceeding to try and chew his way downwards through the building. Acting Team Hatchmiester chairperson Lesley Stumprape issued this statement: 'We are deeply sorry to Mr. Berserker, Mr Ville Valo (the singer from H.I.M), Mrs. Lipstick and Gas Lipstick JR. Mr Gizzlington has been struggling with his hunger for human flesh for some time now. It is just unfortunate that when it finally took over him he was with such a distinguished member of society, and not some homeless mutant.' Rumour has it that Mr. Lipstick was debating whether to become Mr. Gizzlington's best mate instead of Mr. Beserker but changed his mind. So far no one from Whack Hammer F.C. Has been available for comment.Collie
Mahon Von Ticklytits - The Guardian

23rd April 21.13
After being utterly shocked and loosing faith in the world. Whack hammers chairman H.O.B has come back at Gas' funeral with some strong words over his ex best mate G.Lipstick and mega rival Mr S. Gizzlington. "Gas was a big name in the field" "his sheer whit and determination to succeed will be sorely missed" before launching in to an uncontrollable swearing rant over his rival. "what that C**t did to him will be avenged I tell you!"if Gizzlington thinks he can go around and just eat human flesh, well he's got another thing coming!" shortly after Mrs lipstick launched into tears and Olof Berserker was once again escorted off the premises by police for swearing at a funeral.Mervin Dickschwanger - Footballing funerals magazine

20th May 12.09
As Mercenaries Chairperson Gladys Muckraker lies dying from AIDS or something, the acting Supremo, youthful Dwight "Reg" Butters has called upon the boys to give it one last push and clinch the title.Butters commented 'Its been a season of two halves, and frankly we've been as shit as Atletico Smith in the second half, but the boys have got to close it out for Gladys.' He also stressed 'It ain't over 'til its over', quashing rumours that Muckraker has placed an order for 5000 tons of bunting, 200 magnums of champagne and a street and an open top bus parade through Marlborough High Street.

22nd May 23.09
at the other end of the table, rumours are running wild about the state of Second Ball. A report in todays Daily Fascist claims that a number of changes have been made to the playing staff at the club, with an emphasis on youth, with the guiding hand of "big" marlon harewood upfront.The report goes onto suggest that chairman Josef Fritzl has infact sold the club to Russian oligarch Andrei Rapestingovic. Rapestingovic is well known in the football world for his outrageous transfer habits. He did have this to say."I spend on futures. These big players? They dont care 'bout club. they only concern for bank accounts, i want players who love badge, love footballings clubs."When asked about the point penalties, he said"I think biggest achievements we will make is to come below chatfields. he is shites and it would be honour to be worsts than hims"

23rd May 18.23
With just one day until D-Day, Hank Olof Berserker had just a few words of wisdom to sum up the season. Speaking from his Prison cell which he failed to escape from since his last outburst at his best mate Gas Lipsticks (the drummer from H.I.M)Funeral. HOB said it had been a season of many ups and downs But only one constant force remained in the top half which ultimately is Whack Hammer United and not Joes Mercenaries. "All fairness to the chap running the top team but at the end of the day its all because of a huge donation from Alaskan Oil Merchant Geoff Stelling, which enabled the Mercenaries to keep on top of things, thereby securing the best deals throughout the season". With the final day of football to come it would appear almost impossible for anyone to catch the Mercenaries unless of course the Mantonian based club could throw a spanner in the works? After seeing another fellow manager using the classic 'Marlon Harewood tactic'. Hob congratulated Second Ball on having the courage to pull it off at such a late stage of the season. " I cannot wait to see how the team lineup will project for the second ballers final day" Hob is recalled saying. "I just hope that for the sake of good order Marlon himself is made captain to liven things up".

24th May 1.23
Second Ball spokesman and physiotherapist, fictional South Park character Randy Marsh had this to say after hearing such kind words from Hank. "I would like to thank Hank and congratulate him for whack hammer's performance this season. While this season has largely been forgettable since their peak around December, Second Ball would like to finish in the most memorable way we can. I can guarantee that people will be talking about us as much as whoever is crowned champions."

25th May 17.53
As the dust settles after an explosive year of fantasy football acting Team Hatchmiester chairperson leslie stumprape was downbeat about the state of the club "Since the incident with Mr. Gizlington eating Gas Lipstick (the drummer from H.I.M.) our form took a nose dive. Alot of the players saw it as a heroic act and started to mimick mr gizlington. In fact the reason why ronaldo got sold is because he ate carlton coles foot!"She went on to congratulate Joe's Mercenaries "they fought a hell of a campaign. i think everyone was a little suprised with how well they did" Stumprape did however attack Hank Olof Beserker for his recent behaviour "that man is a piece of shit! always moaning 'oooh im so sad my best friend got eaten' get over it you nasty little prick!" She then announced that sje would be stepping down "I dont even like fucking football!" before launching herself off a 40 story building, landing on 1980's supergroup Toto killing everyone onvolved instantly. The gathered press agreed it was for the best.
Tammy Mackalackashackalack - www.ithinkiminlovewithacamel.com

So there you are. Once again I'd like to emphasise that these aren't the contributers actual views they are fictional charaters. Hope you enjoyed them.

Where Have You Been All My Life?

Hello Folks. Sorry for my unbelievably lazy and slack approach to this ever popular blog. I've been extremely busy what with getting a new job as a cheeky Dickensian pick-pocket and eating grapes while lying in bed watching re runs of the apprentice like some sort of sloth monster. I thought I'd get on it since I'm currently in a catatonically hung over state and doing anything else would involve moving. I received some feedback saying that i needed some visual stimuli on the blog so i put up a picture of a cabbage. I hope you're bloody happy!

Anyway two more blogs this time about the similar subjects of The Wire and swine flu. I hope you enjoy them and thank you for supporting me in my profession change.

Swine Flu

‘Jon I’m sending you some healthy products which are supposed to build up your immune system affectively. It’s just what with this Swine Flu going round I’m worried about you and need to know you’re as healthy as possible.’ Bless my mum always looking out for me. And as sweet and generous and caring that gesture was from my lovely mother I couldn’t help but feel a little sad that she’d been swept into the swine flu panic.

Now don’t get me wrong I am absolutely not denying that swine flu could turn into something potentially nasty. And I’m not sniffing at the fact that people have lost friends and family to the illness. But the Black Death it ain’t. So why does our media seem determined to make it seem like it’s an unstoppable plague that is going to kill you and everyone around you?

Firstly this is all a little too familiar. Remember the dreaded SARS pandemic. The illness was essentially just a slightly more contagious strong cold, but the world’s media went nuts. I remember one particularly harrowing story about a man in Canada who missed his daughter’s wedding because he was quarantined in his house. The news made it out in the report that he was on deaths door and that he was scared he’d never see his daughter again. Being slightly younger (surprisingly) and more naive then I am now that scared me until I thought about it logically. Surely if he was on his way to meet his maker they would postpone the wedding, or at the very least the honeymoon, and make sure he was alright. It was one of the first times I started to really question what we were being told about the world in the media. In the aftermath of the dreadful SARS pandemic a statistic revealed that in the period that SARS was at large more people died from falling down the stairs.

Around 30,000 people die from regular flu in the USA a year (although obviously this can be a factor and not always the direct cause). Most of these people have poor immune systems and their bodies just can’t handle it. It’s a nasty illness as I’m sure everyone who reads this is aware. But deaths of this kind aren’t published on the front page of newspapers or at the top of news bulletins. Since Swine Flu emerged around a month ago two people have died from it in the USA, one of them being a 26 month old baby. Of course that’s tragic but clearly a baby’s immune system isn’t fully formed and any particularly nasty common illness could potentially kill a baby. What is the Medias obsession, as well, with leading a story with a death count? When swine flu first emerged on pretty much every front page they said something along the lines of ‘512 People Die Of Swine Flu In Mexico’ it wasn’t until you got about half way through the article that they said 26 people were confirmed of dyeing from the illness. So basically the front page was a lie and it ropes people into panic like my mum did. In fact the figure of confirmed deaths is at 48 in Mexico. The Sun couldn’t even be bothered to call it swine flu just in case the readers didn’t get the swine reference. They just called it pig flu. Idiots!

The Media does this far too often. I remember a couple of days after Hurricane Katrina hit some idiot from FEMA (who were partly responsible for the loss of life anyway) told reporters that they feared that over 100,000 people had died. The print media went crazy and ran the figures. Obviously at that point people around the world could not know that this was completely false. In fact it was a suspected 1,836 people who died. This is a horrendously tragic number of people but imagine the people around the USA who had family or friends in New Orleans and they here 100,000 people have died. They must have given up hope.

The way I see it with the economic downturn seemingly bottoming out and now slowly climbing again the papers became bored with the story. Not enough gloom. After a few feeble attempts to get it going again they jumped on the first disaster story they could. Scaring half the world to death into the point where some began panic buying tinned goods to batten down the hatches and hide till it’s over like it was some sort of zombie invasion. Meanwhile hundreds of people are dying in the civil war in Sri Lanka, the cholera outbreak in Zimbabwe is not under control and soldiers and civilians are still being killed every day in Afghanistan and Iraq. Let alone the ongoing famine in Africa. I’m not preaching I’m just trying to point out that there really are more pressing issues then swine flu.

The pandemic is now taking a back seat to the ridiculous MP expenses story which seems to be getting more and more ridiculous as it develops. So suddenly we’re not all going to die which is nice but look at those greedy bloody MP’s eh? It’s a ridiculous state of affairs when the media can be so fickle with stories which are supposedly going to affect everyone. Do they just think that British people are so self centred that we won’t care about story unless it directly affects our lifestyle? Because it’s not true.

So thank you Mum for the immune builder type things. But I’m not going to change my behaviour and my lifestyle because of swine flu. And neither should anyone else.

How The Wire Ruined My Already Pathetic Little Life

I used to be so social. ‘Hey Jon we’re going for a pint after work. Wanna come?’ ‘Sure mate count me in!’ ‘Hey Jon we’re going to go throw cashews at squirrels in the park.’ ‘I’m there!’ Then one fateful day last summer a friend said ‘hey man. Gonna start watching the Wire starting from season one. Would you care to join me?’ At that point I should have said ‘no thanks mate. It’s a nice day I’m going to take a nice walk around the harbour and maybe pick up some falafel.’ Unfortunately I said ‘Yeah okay. I’ve heard very good things about it.’ At that point my life changed irreversibly.

Fast forward 7 months and I am completing the 5th series of The Wire for the 3rd time! That’s one hundred and eighty hours of the last 7 months sat in front of my computer, mostly on my own, revelling at undeniably the greatest show of all time. That’s approximately 51 minutes a day on average watching the television equivalent of crack cocaine. And considering I’ve been employed and getting the good eight hours in that whole time makes those statistics even harder to swallow.

I’m not going to bore you with why the show is so good. If you watch it you know already and if you don’t I’m sure you’ve been told 495,861 times by annoying little toe rags such as myself. The show has ruined my life on two different fronts so if your reading this and are planning to start watching it consider this a warning. If you have watched it then I’m sure some of you will share my pain.

I used to love television. During my days as a student I would literally watch any old crap. I studied Film so I would constantly be picking movies apart while watching them, but television was different. My whole house (all guys) would sit down together to watch the Eastenders, Hollyoaks and Neighbours. If I was too broke or too burnt out to get plastered I’d regularly watch shows such as The Bill, Holby City and Judge John Deed. It was nice easy to digest television. It didn’t matter that the acting was bad or the storylines were preposterous, you could sit there and go numb for a little while. The ‘credible’ dramas I did like such as Lost, Heroes and West Wing I thought were genius. Hard to top in terms of good television. Then The Wire came along.

Now I can’t watch anything remotely serious without comparing it to The Wire. Started watching The Shield, great show but gave up after half a series to start watching The Wire again. Michael Chicklis’s testicle-esque face just started irritating me and I wanted to go back to McNulty’s questionable accent and bad drunk acting. Attempted to watch the latest series of Spooks as I’d heard from many peers that it was terrific. ‘What did you think?’ ‘It’s not The Wire is it?’ The amount I’ve used that bloody sentence since starting to watch the show is ridiculous. I feel like such a pretentious little fuckwit.

It’s not just drama’s either. It’s pretty much any television show. I’ll be watching Big Cat Week or something (have a weird attraction to that really posh zoologist) and just think ‘I’m wasting my time. I could be knee deep in Baltimore juice right now.’ Bit of a weird analogy but hey I’m tired.

Unfortunately it doesn’t just affect my television habits. It’s trickled into my personal life. Friends will be rather irritated when I reveal that at least half a dozen times I’ve turned down invitations to go for beers or whatever to watch the show. No television show has ever affected my decisions whether to get drunk or not. Usually it’s just a resounding ‘See you there mate!’ But while I’m in Wire mode the thought of getting blind drunk and hitting on lampposts and other such inanimate of objects suddenly looses a little bit of appeal.

And then when I’m out having a drink with other people who’ve watched The Wire all you end up talking about is the fucking Wire! You could’ve known the person all your life and have millions of thing to talk about but you don’t. With one particular friend the amount of times we’ve said ‘Lets not get into it’ and realise 3 hours later we haven’t talked about anything else is a little pathetic. I mean you could be going to talk to the person to reveal that you’re sleeping with their sibling but completely forget once The Wire’s mentioned. It’s a very sad state of affairs!

After you’ve watched it you’re suddenly a criminal law expert. Or at least you think you are only to talk pompously to someone studying or practising law for your knowledge to be totally dissected. In fact from my experience, perhaps subconsciously, if you’ve seen it you carry a very slight superiority complex and subsequently sound like an arrogant twat when talking about it with someone who has never watched it. The shame!

So be warned. Yes it is undeniably one of the finest television shows of all time and yes it is horribly addictive and yes you will be inconsolable when you’ve finished watching it. But it may ruin your life. You could be a suave big city man about town who likes nothing more than stuffing canapés into your elegant face while sipping Santana champagne and chatting up ball gown clad young women, or you could be a sociopathic alcoholic who likes nothing better than putting on your finest Primark white shirt, catching syphilis off some ropey at best women and kicking to sacks of shit out of someone who disagrees with your preference of football team. The moment The Wire takes hold you’ll become a sad little loner just like me.

The Doubly Whammy. Part II

No excuse this time. Just been caught up in the tediums of life and once again neglected my civil duties. So once again I've hopefully made up for it by posting two brand new blogs for you very kind people to indulge yourselves in. I hope you enjoy them, and I promise I won't take so long next time.

5 Ways to Not Get Beaten Up on a Night Out

I mentioned in my last smattering of blogs that I was going to talk about 'a couple of choice kicks to the head by some psychotic fuckbag.' Well the waiting is finally over. Hold on to your hats because you really don't want to loose them.

First of all the serious bit. Outside a pub on a Friday night a guy approached my friend and without warning punched him round the jaw. I jumped in and subsequently blacked out from the whole event. When I came to I was covered in blood and another of my friends was pulling me along the pavement whilst a group of guys ran in all directions. When i stood up the guy who was initially hit was in a bit of shock and another of my friends was bleeding from a headbutt. Three guys had attacked me on my own and punch and kicked me several times in the face, from which I luckily only suffered cuts and bruises to the face and head and a massive concussion (pussies!)

It wasn't the funnest thing in the world. Violence is very very rarely necessary, and this was completely unprovoked. A few of the attackers have been caught and hopefully they'll get what they deserve. So with that out the way without further a do I present:

5 WAYS TO NOT GET BEATEN UP ON A NIGHT OUT

1. Don't draw attention to yourself. We were having a great night at the time but didn't exactly keep a low profile. There was a house band playing and for some reason the only song we wanted to hear was a cover of 70's soft rockers TOTO's immortal hit 'Africa'. The house band did not know said power ballad, but that didn't stop us yelling 'AFFRRRIIICCCCAAAA' during every gap. It was kind of like shouting 'We will rock you!' during a Bjork gig. This was rather foolish but the band and most of the patrons didn't seem to mind. But jut in case their are psychos mixed in its probably best not to do it.

2. Don't be tall. I know its hard to help but if you are a taller gentlemen try sellotaping shoes to your knees to pass off that your actually small. You'd be amazed how alcohol can blur depth perception. That the fact that this seemingly short legged gentleman has another leg growing out of his heel will only make people avoid you.

Actually for the record if you want to completely avoid being beaten up don't be Black, Oriental, Asian, ginger, Gay or Jewish. Just make sure you're white and of average height you'll be fine.

3. Do not, whatever you do, talk to anyone of the opposite sex. Even if the girl is your friend and she came out with you ignore her. Because people like our friends the psycho's will want to fuck said girls, and they can't be fucking them if you're talking to them. If you feel bad for not talking to them at the very least scowl and pretend that you hate her and aren't interested in anything she has to say. DON'T camp it up for reasons specified above.

4. Don't laugh or appear to be having fun. People will take it the wrong way, say 'what're you laughing at mate?' and punch you in the face. For heavens sake if you go out I cannot stress how important it is to be miserable. stand in the corner with a look on your face that says that you would much rather be at home in bed furiously masturbating to Babestation. Actually on second thoughts...

5. Don't go out! Cos they can't get you when you're in your house. Furiously masturbating. To Babestation.

Of course I'm joking. When it comes to these types of people, if it wasn't me and my friends it would've been another group of guys who just wanted a good night. Fuck 'em. They're just going to end up in jail or, hopefully, pick on the wrong people one time and have to make their own trip to A&E.

One more thing. If you think that you may get into a fight, don't wear a hat that you love. It'll mean that if you get hit and the hat falls off in your dazed state you'll just end up groping aimlessly around on the floor and looking rather idiotic.

First Impressions

Back when I was a fresh face 16 year old, before a mixture of Radiohead records, alcohol and the death of my beloved childhood dog Stanley turned me into the bitter fuck I am today, I was so keen to make new friends I literally thought everyone I met was a genius who was worthy of my time. I remember going on my first holiday with a big group of friends down to Polzeath. For those of you not familiar with his charming little Cornwall village it is the place where a huge number of private school kids get away to to generally rebel, mostly by throwing up after drinking too much Smirnoff Ice and shagging people it later turns out are their cousins. But I digress.

At this time most of my friends didn't judge people on their first impressions. We really were a tremendously friendly bunch to everyone we met, even if a lot of the people we met down their would terminate the conversation as soon as we revealed we didn't go to private school. The first impression we gave to these future professional trust fund spenders was that we were probably not good enough to hang around with them. The ones that didn't think like that ended up loving us, and we had some increasingly out of control nights out (it still amazes me we were allowed to go away unsupervised at 16)

One of my friends wasn't as friendly. After our first night out in which we'd befriended a bare-footed stranger, who within about 20 minutes of drinking games decided to go bare-everything. Said character turned up at our place in the morning to borrow our shower. 'Who the fuck is that twat?' my friend eloquently asked once the bare-footed man was indisposed. 'Mate you'll love him!' I replied. 'Seems like a prize bell-end to me!' The other day my friend turned round to me and said 'What ever happened to [bare-footed man] that guy was a fucking legend!' What would've happened if my friend had followed through with his first impressions? He would not have had the memories and good times, and that little holiday wouldn't have been anywhere near as good for him.

Fast forward 7 years and I'm sad to say I've become him. I can't bloody help it! I meet someone new and it takes me a long time to give them a chance, usually I'll just ignore them all together. I honestly don't mean to do it, but I've noticed it coming the other way as well. Why is this?

I'm not talking about first impressions on looks or appearance. I'm sure Hitler didn't judge Jews on their personality, I'm sure the social elite don't judge the working class by their views on the hunt and I'm sure not every good looking girl I see just happened to be much more friendly and learned then the not so good looking ones. I'm talking about first impressions on social interactions

I wonder whether its just comes down to how people tick. Everyone has a particular type of person that rubs them up the wrong way. I was coming out of a pub the other day for a cigarette whilst two girls waited the other side of the door. I then failed to hold the door open for them and as they squeezed past me one of them rather unsubtly muttered 'fucking cunt.' When I went back into the pub it turns out they were going to meet with the same group I was with. The one who called me a cunt didn't even look at me for the rest of the night. So I'm guessing for her not being chivalrous is 'the' thing that rubs her up the wrong way. Hey! I'm a nice guy!

One thing I have noticed is the age thing. Thinking back to when I was 16 up till today I seem to have got worse and worse as I've got older with these irrational judgements. I'm not sure whether it's just me. But thinking about being at school when the girls would go out with the older lads, was it because we were little twerps, or did the older guys just judge us for being little twerps and consequently steer the girls well clear of us.

I don't know maybe I'm clutching at straws to cover up my own social retardation. But I think back to that holiday when I was 16 and do start to think about all the potentially missed opportunities. And if I am not alone, which I'm sure I'm not, then lets give each other a chance and go create some memories.

The double whammy!

Sorry for being absolutely shocking with this blog. But thank you for your patience if you have been regularly checking. The past 3 weeks have been rather hectic what with social occasions, work and enduring a couple of choice kicks to the head from some psychotic fuckbag (which I will be blogging about very soon). For the time being here are two newbies for you to sink your blood thirsty dentures into. Also in the next couple of weeks my good friend David Palmieri will be pitching in with some guest blogs so keep checking the site. So enjoy and thanks for visiting.

Getting Old, Kicking and Screaming

What an odd situation I've found myself in today. I spoke to a close friend earlier today who, along with a group of my other friends, were still out from last night. This was around 3PM so when i returned home from work at 5.30 I gave a couple of the other guys a call and there phones were off. The strangest sensation came over me, I actually started to get worried! I eventually managed to get hold of one of them and they were fine (except one who is still MIA but apparently being 'looked after') Why was I worried?I'm not there Mum! I've done the same thing with the same group of guys countless times before. And all of a sudden my worst fears are coming into question. Something I've been starting to think for some time now but really didn't want to think about. Am I getting old?

It all started when I started working a dead end 9to5 job. Suddenly I was getting tetchy about people playing music after midnight and slamming doors if I had to work the next day. I put this down to the fact that I love sleep possibly more then anyone has ever loved. If i could I'd marry it and move to a great open plain where the only sound is the sound of my light breathing as i sink into the beautiful arms of slumber. Then i felt myself getting horrifically froogle with my money, to the point where I'd get rather indignant with the lady on the till at subway if she charged me full price for a 'sub of the day'. I put this down to being my fathers son. He would be unbelievably proud me for this slightly irrational irk. Then all of a sudden I'm getting worried about my idiot friends!

Its not just socially either. I find myself really struggling to get in to new music. Back when I was18 we had a terrific year for music with the likes of The Killers, Kasabian, Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party and the world conquering Goldie Lookin' Chain emerging. We were the trend setters! Now I don't know what I'm supposed to be listening, get a little frustrated, and resort back to old Weezer albums. When I heard the rumour that Green Day, Blink 182 and the aforementioned Weezer were going to play one of the days at Reading I almost jizzed with excitement. 'Yay I can be 16 again!' Since I've left university it appears I've lost all touch, something I really didn't think would happen.

I have spent way to much of my spare time recently talking about this fucking credit crunch. I was talking to someone still at uni who said she felt a little bad because she didn't know what all the fuss was about, so I spent 15 minutes boring the poor girl to tears talking about the tricky situation I knew other people were in. I'd only just met her! what a prick! She's older then me, doing medicine, and here I am try to be intellectually superior by talking about cunting finance.

There are hundreds of other little things which are making me feel old (the cold does make my knee go stiff which is just plain wrong) and I've got to be honest its depressing the hell out of me. I'm not sure about anyone else but in the back of my head I'm thinking 22 is the beginning of the end. Its ll down hill from here. Essentially its bollocks and I thinks its just a result of being scared of the future. I do take comfort, however, how young I feel compared to other people in there early 20's.

Not one but two of my ex girlfriends from when I was much younger are now married. It-is-fucking-insane. I'm sure they were ready and I hope they're going to be very happy but just the thought of getting married makes me want to hurl myself into the Avon river and swim to Mexico. Marriage is one thing but people I went to school with are now having kids. KIDS! Now this really is scary because, and i know its an old cliche, but i really can't look after myself let alone a kid. For example so far this evening I have drunk a litre and a half of chocolate milk, had chicken dippers and waffles for dinner and smoke enough to make Keith Richards proud. Instead of getting changed into casual clothes i simply took off my work clothes and put on my dressing gown (that was at 5.30) and tomorrow night will be a shamefully similar story. Me with a kid? the poor little bastard would almost certainly grow up to be either a horrible slob or a serial killer.

And I still go out and do ridiculous things, which brings me to the reason why today of all days I'm all of a sudden rather terrified of the 'o' word. Whats unbelievably stupid is, with this exact same group of guys last weekend, I went on a three day bender which involved some incidents which I'm to ashamed to admit on such a public forum. I've started to think that these stunts we pull may just be a way of staving off this inevitable sharp descent into being boring an old. But at least we're getting old kicking and screaming and not submitting to its evil claws.

Make that 2 lires of Chocolate Milk. I am on fire!!!

A Question Of Sport

Imagine the scenario as a guy. You're out with your significant other and you're dragged along for a drink with another couple you've never met. As soon as you walk into the pub the girls are off. Its been a couple of months and they need to catch up on who's dating, who's fat, who terminated a pregnancy after finding out the father was in fact gay and had run off with someone who is a back-up dancer for Girls Aloud and other such stereotypical lady gossip. Unfortunately your imaginations been fried by the sordid video your friend e mailed to you earlier in the day so, in an attempt to ease the boredom, you try to talk to the other guy. 'So... Did you watch the game last night?' You wait with bated breath for the answer. It doesn't matter which game you're referring to. as long as he says 'yes' you know you've got at least half an hour of evening saving material stored up. This is it. Make or break time. Your mouth goes dry you start to shake. 'Nah I'm not really into sport.' That's it, night over you might as well be drinking alone, thinking how drunk you'd have to get your partner for her to do what you saw in that video. A nightmare scenario or what?

Now don't get me wrong I'm not some jock asshole who thinks any man who doesn't live and breath sport is a little pussy who deserves to be put in an abandon warehouse whilst the entire New Zealand rugby team hunt them down with tazers. A lot of my friends have no more interest in sport then Pete Docherty has with a cup of tea and a good night sleep. But when it comes to first meeting another guy in a situation when you have to talk to them the sport conversation is like a get out of jail free card. You really don't want to risk the double role otherwise it becomes less and less fun.

What i mean by my superb monopoly analogies is your next port of conversation if the dreaded 'I'm not in to sport' comes out. the subjects become more risky to discuss. Sport is sport. There are no different genres, sub genres and movements in sport. you don't have ska darts against grime darts its just darts. Music is the most natural thing to resort to, and its a tricky one. what if you literally despise his taste and have no interest in discussing different scratching techniques or guitar licks by bands you think disgrace the speakers they pump out of. Your fucked again! And you will naturally resort to judging him for being either overly pretentious or horrendously mis-informed. Time for another role.

Film and TV runs the same risks. As a horrible little film snob i try and avoid this because if that's the first proper conversation that i have with someone they will end up hating me. comedies a good shout but what if their idea of humour is a Mr Bean marathon followed by anything with Eddy Murphy in a fucking fat suite. Go back to thinking about that night you microwaved that cuddly toy. Better times.

Finally there's the most risky one. Politics. Best case scenario you agree on a couple of things and can have a relatively chilled debate about other things, which kills some time. Bad scenario he doesn't know much about politics and your back to square one. Worst case scenario it turns out the boy is the reincarnation of Hitler, says he moved away from London because there were far to many ethnics and guffaws about the night his mate Jeff slapped a black toilet attendant because he sprayed YSL on his wrist instead of John Paul Gaultier. At which point you run off to the toilet to throw up and try and wash the hatred of your hands and face.

Sport is just easier. a stepping stone if you will. If it turns out the stranger is big in to his rugby great! for me the girls can spend all night catching up I'm sorted. from rugby you can talk about Cipriani, whose dating Kelly Brooke who was married to Jason Statham. there you go you've eased into movies. See how this can work?

Many of my friends feel the same. One of them, in avid Middlesborough fan for reasons only he knows, sort out a group of guys, one of whom was in a Boro shirt, at Glastonbury! he then didn't want to leave because he'd finally found some inbred little bottom feeders just like him. another of my mates was telling me about the time he was at Global Gathering and ended up just chatting to some random in the bar about League One for 4 hours whilst gurning his motherloving tits off. bearing in mind the festival is less then 24 hours long that's pretty good going. A new colleague started at my work the other day. He saw me looking a the transfer deadline day news on BBC, asked me who'd gone where and there you go we were friends.

To those of you who don't like sport i have an idea. If you know a night like i described in the first paragraph is coming out just watch a game, any game, before it happens. Just to make sure there is a way to break the ice.

Oh the Humanity!

It was around 5.30 one grotesquely hideous day at work last year. I was sat on my desk all alone, as I was pulling a late shift. The sweet older lady who works a couple of desks behind me suddenly bellowed 'Oh no! I just pressed enter instead of shit. . . . . . sorry shift. excuse me,' she ended in her embarrassed little voice. At this point the cueballed, disgusting, sweaty, unapproachable, more penis then man, fucking toss rag of a human lookalike starts literally howling with laughter whilst wiggling his probably withered and unusable genitalia right in this poor Lady's face. he calmed down after 30 seconds of pretty ghastly humiliation on the nice ladies part and, with absolutely no use of irony, piped up 'you need to learn how to do sentences good love!!!' My head sunk into my desk praying for a nuclear bomb just to land directly on the building. I need to quit my job!

As you may have guessed I'm late on my blog again. but it will surely be a doozy so keep checking.

A Touch of Class

After blogging about such a deep and hard hitting subject last week, this week I've decided to tackle the comparatively benign subject of the class system in the UK. I know, I know, I've gone soft. But it's something that plays on my mind quite a lot due to its ridiculously dated state.

I couldn't really be more middle class if I tried I'm slightly ashamed to admit. Both my parents pull in a good wage, but not so much that I've got a double barrelled surname and 30 acres of land which we use purely for polo and generally toffery. I went to a state school, but a state school that had rugby union as its main sport and award winning teachers (yes they do exist)

I sometimes appeal to 'working class' people because I'm pretty well spoken, and can therefor be classed as 'that nice posh bloke', as well as appealing to the 'upper class' people because they feel like they're slumming it with an oik a la Kate Winslett and Leo Di Caprio in Titanic. I'm sometimes hated by 'working class' people because I have a posh voice and therefore must have gone to Eaton and did a bit of sodomy with my bunkmate. And sometimes by the 'upper class' because I am an oik who isn't really fit to breath the same air as them as the air that they breath was imported from the Seychelles and it's only for them and their friend Biffer. I got one question, where's the love?

The former of the people I mentioned are great, whatever their motives, and, in my generation at least, they are the majority. They're good, tolerant people who are worthy of everybody's time. The latter people are the problem and it makes me ponder where this hatred stems from.

There's the obvious focus on the past. Like in the 'golden age', pre-world wars when the rich were literally inbred, elitist fuckheads and the poor were about as clever as Blackpool pleasure beach. Post world wars it went back to normal after the unity of the conflicts. In the 80's Thatcher obviously made things even worse by ostracised the working classes in favour of the rich. But that was 20 years ago, surely things are better now? Perhaps its the Vietnam syndrome. People just can't let it go

That leads us on to the nurturing side of it. Either end of the spectrum children are bought up being told their place. A friend of mine used to work on the tills at the Waitrose in Marlborough. One day a college kid, aged 13 or 14, gave my friend a pound for a packet of crisps. When my friend went to count out his change the college kid asked 'do you need help counting that' with general concern and sympathy etched on his grotesque little face. That's right! This poor little deluded little Shitbird had been bought up to think that people who worked in supermarkets couldn't fucking count! On the other side another friend of mine, who was bought up in a not so nice area of north London, hates rugby union for the pure fact that he thinks everyone who plays it went to private school and is a little toffee nosed wanker.

Theirs the money factor as well, the obvious one. But I still don't think it's a big enough excuse for the division. Some carpenters I know pull in anything up to £1500 a week, yet they're still considered by the upper class to be lower class. Granted some carpenters I know spend all their money on beemers with 7 foot high spoilers and trips to Thailand to witness the world famous ping pong ball trick. But still a hell of a wage, and its the same with most 'lower class' trades.

I'm not going to pretend that I know how to fix it because I don't. I'm about as useful as a midget in the NBA when it comes to ideas of how to mend a broken society. But the reason why I write this is because I don't know why it can't fix itself.

I had a job signing people up for free sim cards last year. Glamorous I know. There was one gloriously sunny day that really sticks in my head. Me and a colleague were walking round a packed park. We signed up some college kids up who were unbelievably posh, but none the less absolutely lovely people. The common perception of these kids would be that they'd run to there fucking beach house in Malibu at the sight of us coming to talk to them with clipboards. But they didn't. They signed up, had a joke,and we moved on. We then signed up a group of kids who were on the other end of the spectrum, drinking white lightning and massaging pregnant bellies and what not. Once again though these people were lovely. Slightly dense but none the less good people. A couple of minutes later one of the latter group went to take a piss in a bush. The posh kids make some snide comment and suddenly all hell is kicking off. But these two groups of people were both extremely friendly to us, why did they see each other as enemies?

Its certainly for much cleverer and less shabby people then myself to figure out how to fix. All I can say is 'where's the love?'

Read muthafucker, read!

I saw a headline 'crazed fan lunges at X -Factor star Diana Vickers.' I burst out laughing imagining a strange man in his 40's doing sport lunges towards Vickers in an attempt to woo the little songstress. I shared this thought with a colleague only for her to tell me that the story was a rather nasty one were some nutcase pounced on Vickers, who i didn't realise was only 17, while she performed. Should probably read the whole article before opening my big mouth next time.

Anyway the reason for this tiny blog is i haven't quite finished my latest feature length nugget of wisdom. I will hopefully have it done for tomorrow so watch this space.

Insomnia

New Years day 2009. 4pm. The majority of people are lying in their beds, welcoming that feeling of horrific resentment caused by that pathetic come on they put on the person they've been in love with for the whole of 2008, or the relationship threatening argument they had at their oldest and dearest friend because the fiend criticised their shoes, or the beating they put on the poor sucker who just happened to be breathing the same air around them when their irrational anger inevitably reared its ugly head. Most people re not, however, still up partying. That's because its a ridiculous thing to do. The nights peaked, every one has gone to bed and are in tremendous pain from the standard 75 units consumed. So why the fuck do some people think it's a good idea?
4pm in my humble flat and their I lay, trying to get back to sleep and ignore that pressing feeling of regret and self loathing. But I can't because a bus-full of morons are playing useless Norwegian techno music at a level even deaf people can here, having not stopped since I went to bed 9 hours before. Several things had happened in those 9 hours including another of my flatmates coming home in the morning and was unable to go to the toilet as there was a couple of fuckers in their doing cocaine in there. .. . . WHY? Isn't that one of the beauties of living in your own house, being able to do cocaine anywhere? Our fucking desks aren't giant mirrors for Christ's sake!
So back to 4pm and I've decided enough is enough. I head upstairs expecting to argue with many, put my head round the door and there are two guys barely awake looking awkwardly around the room. everyone else look like they've been roofied up, slumped over on any tiny patch of bed or floor they can find. The music is still being played at a level that would offend the most debouched of sex offenders. One of the awake guy's looks up at me, a disgusting drip of drool hanging from a crusty corner of has pastey face 'al''igh bra'?' he mumbles. 'Can you turn it down now please mate' I reply in my cowardly politeness. 'uhhh...' I take that as a yes and leave. Does it stop? Fuck no!
The group of ameba's eventually shut up at 9pm and most disperse into the cold 2009 air hopefully to never be seen again. But it got me thinking what makes people do this kind of thing?
I could hit a club, busts some shapes, shoot some tequilas, get a free blow job from a prostitute, who as it turns out is an undercover cop who's just really into me, and be in bed by 11.30. Who had the better night? Okay so the low job thing's never happened, but my social life has got to be better than taking it in shifts to stay awake and seem 'crazy' whilst subsequently pissing off half the population of Europe, plus ruining what should be a day of rest for everyone, simultaneously killing off any lingering brain cells that might have been threatening to produce cognitive thought.
My only guess is that these types of people have so little substance to there personalities that something is ridiculously stupid as partying for 26 hours straight, even if you clearly don't want to and clearly can't handle it, makes them feel 'wild' and 'unique'. Even if everyone else thinks you look like a dick head.