The Pizza constant

Every good mathematical or physics formula has a constant.

I discovered a new constant yesterday , quite by accident, whilst writing an email to my good friend Joni.

I was explaining to her about when my cooker suddenly broke down. Not in an emotional way, it just stopped working. I'm not sure cookers have emotions. I think some electrical appliances do have emotions, for example my fridge, which has been revelling in my torture for some time now.

My fridge is just a youngster of about 2 years old. It was manufactured by Beko, a company I always presumed was Japanese, but it turns out they are Turkish in origin. Already, you can see the problem, letting Turkish people make electrical goods. A nation famous for kebabs and other fatty delicacies. However Turkish labourers re-built Berlin after WW2 and made a bloody good job of it, so why not have a manufacturing industry? Unfortunately for the Turkish kebab swilling labourers, fridges and other electrical equipment aren't usually constructed from bricks and mortar, under the direct supervision of a squad of Nazi commanders who've just lost a war and have been 're-skilled'. I am sure the Turkish took a few short cuts with fridge building, using materials like egg-plant and yoghurt, where clearly alloyed metals should have been employed. I guess that's why, just after the 1st anniversary of it's purchase, it failed horribly, defrosting everything inside. It's only got worse from there. I paid £300 for one year of reliable refrigeration. This is very un-Turkish indeed. I have been eating kebabs for years and by the look of my bloated frame, they are ALL still with me. I digress (which is the point of blogging).

So back to the story of my cooker. Ironically due to the nature of this post, which will become clear no doubt, I discovered that my cooker was knackered when I found a stone cold pizza in there after 20 mins of cooking, with cold air. So I rushed out to buy another one. I got a second hand one though because we want to move this year and I didn't want to shell out for a new one that we may end up leaving behind. The new one is very nice, nice and gassy, which the other one wasn't.

Electric cookers are shit to cook on but the nature of the fan assistance in the oven makes for perfect pizzas. They are crispy and cooked all the way through. Gas however is a different story. The hob cooking experience is a sheer delight, instantaneous temperature control, a luxury. The oven however is total toilet. Put it on, wait for a fortnight, then it's just about ready to cook, badly.

So here comes the real science behind this blog. Whilst writing the email to Joni, I realised that I use the hob more than I use the oven for the specific task of cooking pizza. So although I am happy about the thrill of instantaneous temperature control, I am disappointed about having burnt round the edge-soft in the middle pizza.

Let's put that into a formula where:

H= Happiness (measured in Jollynesses)
nP= Number of pizzas cooked for any given time period (expressed in pizzas per unit time) The SI (Scottish Idiot) unit for this is Pizza/week.
F= Fuel type where Electric ovens have a higher 'oven quotient' than Gas.

The formula is therefore:

H=F/nP

Elementary you may say, but my discovery is the 'oven quotient' for Gas. It's -5, whereas an electric oven is 7.5. So with 1 pizza per week cooked on Gas Jollyness is -5. Conversely, for every 1 pizza per week cooked in an electric fan based oven the Jollyness is 7.5.

So as we can clearly see, whilst cooking with a Gas oven, Happiness is inversely proportional to number of pizzas cooked. Whereas with an Electric oven, the opposite is true.


I am hoping to get this ground breaking and philosophical epiphany published in New Scientist magazine. This could revolutionise the world, by promoting happiness and unhealthiness across the globe.

Stephen Hawking popularised 'String theory', the understanding that a body with a gravitational pull acts like a ball in a blanket, please, spare me, was that one of the blankets he was dribbling on? What the fuck has he ever done for science except disprove one of Newton's fundamental laws. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction according to Newton's third law. So what happened when his wife knocked fuck out of him in 2004? He fell out of his wheelchair and she escaped without sanction. Well done Stephen, you've just blown away one of the foundations of Physics.

And Einstein, what the fuck did that forgetful fluffy haired weirdo ever add to society. I'll tell you, 2 flattened Japanese cities and 40 years of cold-war terror. Well done old man. Pretty clever eh, but never remembered to wash.

So in short, I hope to be held up there amongst the greats with this discovery. It has also led me to the conclusion that to attain true happiness I must eat less pizzas from now on, unless I change my cooker of course.

Extending the smelly hand of friendship

There's this man, who drives a bus. Let's call him the bus driver. Anyway it's a bus that I have to use to get around work and he's one of the regular drivers. He's a nice man, very friendly and polite, a gentleman. He's one of the people in the world that can put a smile on your face because you know that when he greets you that he's doing it sincerely and genuinely.

But there's a problem. He loves to shake hands with people. A warm handshake, not only with one hand, but with the other clasped around the back of your hand in a very welcoming way onto his little bus. That's not the problem though. The problem is his hands smell. They smell like they've been doused in aftershave overnight and then sprayed with some more just to make sure they still have that eye-wateringly strong aroma.

So what's the problem with that you may ask yourself? Perhaps he gets up in the morning, has a shave, then pours some Brut into his hands and rubs liberally on his freshly scraped face, it's what lots of men do. (I don't know if his face smells, thankfully, so I can't confirm or deny that) The man has a sense of hygiene, he's always smartly turned out, surely I can't knock him for that? What's the big issue?

So I just wander into work, sit down and get going for the day. Then it happens. I put my hand near my face, perhaps resting my head in the palm and I can smell him. He's invaded my day! He's invaded my nose, he's with me at work, my hands even smell of him. This is not acceptable to me. I begin to think that everything I've touched previously will smell of him, my pen, the mouse (I keep a little mouse in my pocket and stroke him every now and then, it makes me feel big and powerful). It's not even nice aftershave, it smells like he concocted it from cheap household cleaning products from Lidl. Even Cillit Bang (Barry Scott's favourite aftershave) would be an improvement. So off I traipse to the toilet and scrub the bastards until there is no trace of the repugnant stench left.

Afterwards I start to resent the bus driver. I feel that he's upset my day by invading my personal space. It's not that I mind shaking his hand, that's just polite. It's the that he then proceeds to follow me around, on my hands no less, until I wash him off. Also he's got very rough skin on his hands, no wonder if the aftershave he uses can also be used to descale toilets! So now when I'm walking towards the bus and I see his face gurning out of the window like a fish in a tank full of turgid bleach I think 'ah fuck, it's old stinky hands'. I imagine sitting in the bus with my skin withering away slowly, unable to touch anything in case there's a sudden onset of leprosy and my epidermis departs my person in one large hand-shaped scab. I get phobic about walking to the bus in case he's there and starts beaming out of the window at me, ready to infect me with his aromatic AIDS.

Then I feel guilty. The bus driver is a nice man, he only wants to make friends and make people happy. Sometimes his kind words are the only kind words I hear all day and here's me hating him because of his rough skin and refusal to use a spray on aftershave or at least one that doesn't have the same effects as Sarin.

I'm trying to think of a logical ending to this little saga.
Maybe it's that no matter how nice you are, you'll never please everyone.
Maybe it's don't befriend bus drivers.
Or maybe it's subliminal advertising for a company which produces hand sanitising gels.

Swimming

Today I had a swim for the first time in ages. I really enjoyed it. I don't know why I don't do it more often (laziness may be the answer to that question). It's a very liberating form of exercise, although it does make my back ache a bit. I swam in the pool in the gym I go to.

There's a man who goes to that pool every day and he gets in and just walks up and down. I call him Luke Poolwalker. It's not that funny really cause he's disabled and looks like some sort of hunched hobbit from Lord of the Rings. He went over and spoke to the young lifeguard today at length. I watched the interaction and was imagining that he explained to the young man that he'd dropped his ring in the pool and he had to walk up and down everyday, feeling for it with his toes. Of course that wasn't case, by the look on the young man's face I imagine he said "Do you know how to make an old crippled man happy? No, then suck my cock and we'll see how it goes" Of course that's probably not what happened either because I imagine his cock is crippled too.

I am going to burn in hell one day for my thoughts. And If I don't, I'll burn in hell for posting them here.

Also I was reminded today how fucking disgusting my fellow men are. Men are desperate, desperate for sex or just even to look at women and imagine themselves sliming all over the women they covet. There were a couple of pretty women in the swimming pool. I think they were mother and daughter, but both well kept. There was also a couple of lecherous men in the jacuzzi (I was observing them from the sauna). The jacuzzi sits in front of the pool so in walking from either the changing rooms or the sauna to the pool, one must pass the bath of bubbles and piss. Anyway these 3 guys watched these 2 women as if they'd never seen a woman before. They craned their heads, leering and leching with their eyes almost on fucking stalks as if Beyonce and Alicia Keys had just started to lick custard off each others naked bodies (Beyonce and Alicia Keys aren't members of my gym, to my knowledge anyway, although maybe they slip in and out early in the morning).

These guys though, they looked like they'd never seen a woman in a swim suit before. I hate that desperate streak in men. Have some dignity, look, but don't make it so obvious. The two ladies were clearly uncomfortable by the unwanted attention of two men who looked like candidates for a UK Border Force eviction special and a fat beer bellied speccy twat who hasn't seen his own cock for 12 years. The kind of guy you see hanging around outside men's toilets in the hope he gets the 'come-on' for a bit of willy fun.

At the risk of repeating myself (and I can it's my Blog after all) I fucking hate men like that. There was another man in the pool when I was swimming doing the same thing. The younger lady was swimming in the lane next to me, about 10 meters in front. This horrible hairy greasy desperate fuck had positioned himself at the far end of the pool to letch at her when she turned and swam away. I watched him, he didn't care. I was watching him while I swam to the wall and she had swam away. H didn't even try to hide that he was transfixed by her body. He might as well have held up a sign saying "I AM MASTURBATING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I HAVE NO SENSE OF SELF WORTH OR OTHER PEOPLES PERSONAL SPACE, I WATCH WOMEN IN SWIMMING POOLS THEN GET INTO MY CAR AND WANK INTO THE ASHTRAY".

I hate people like that. Men like that. They are sad and clinically unable to keep their testosterone in their pants, or a in handkerchief where it belongs.

The duality of man presents itself here. Lets put the boot on the other testicle. If a gay man were to openly ogle a straight man in the shower or changing area of the gym, he'd most probably end up as a mess on the floor, blood seeping from every conceivable orifice, staining the tiles. The same man who would give the gay man a kicking would most probably stare at a pretty woman in a swim suit and think nothing of it, even if it made her uncomfortable.

While I'm on the subject, another thing I hate about the typical man is their total lack of hygiene. You would be surprised how many men have a piss in a pub toilet and don't wash their hands. Maybe they think it's a bit gay, or they are too hard to wash their hands. Piss soaked idiots the lot of them.

Sometimes I hate being a man. Not that I want to be a woman, I would definitely hate myself more then. All women hate themselves for some reason or another. Maybe I should be a cat in my next life. The only down side to being a cat is the compulsion to lick your own anus twice a day, with an unfeasibly rough tongue. Actually, maybe licking your own arse is a small price to pay to live a life without the minutiae that I get myself so worked up about.

Conclusion of this rant: If I lick my own arse, maybe I'll be more content.

Crying

Today I cried for the first time in ages. Why?

My best friend left London today. Not just London, he left the UK. Now let's just get things in perspective, it's not the first time he's been out of the country for an extended period. But this time it's different cause this time I think it's forever.

He and his wife have gone on a once in a lifetime trip around the world which is due to last 6 months. 6 months is nothing really. There are people I don't see for 6 months and I couldn't care less. However this, is different. I think they'll find that they belong somewhere else, that they can have a better life somewhere else. I don't blame them if that is the case, but selfishly I'll be sad. It's not something that happens often, that 2 guys meet and become friends and 15 years later they are still in the same place, still knocking about together, talking shit and getting drunk. But there are the friendships that only happen once in a lifetime.

So, my best mate is gone for a while. I hope that whatever happens to him on his travels only enriches his life. But I'll miss him. We only met maybe every 2 or 3 weeks. In a pub in Wimbledon with a grumpy Scottish barmaid who sounded like she smoked 300 fags a day. But it was always good fun and we always put the world to rights. I hope we can again. Maybe, since he'll have seen more of the world, we'll be able to put more of it to rights!

So I wrote this after much cider and whiskey. That perhaps has amplified my normal emotional response. But so what? I don't care.

I don't mind admitting I had a good cry tonight (not very manly or macho I know).

Everyone cries. About different stuff. Life affects us in different ways, some cry at the birth of their first child, some because Celtic lost the old firm game at the weekend. Today, I don't mind admitting, I cried because my best friend, Colin, left.

Tommorrow I'll be back to my hard-hearted self no doubt.

Malvinas

The Falkland islands.

28 or so years ago Argentina decided that they wanted the Falkland Islands (or as they call them, Malvinas). However as the UK have had this sovereign territory since 1833, we said: no, fuck off.

Argentina then proceeded to invade the islands and claim them, holding the British citizens hostage. What happened next is not only well documented but is one of the things that makes me most proud to say I am British.

A small island in the North Atlantic, a tiny island nation called Britain, sent their finest troops on a 3 week sea voyage to defend British territory. A tiny British territory, which many may have called insignificant. This was a point of principle and that's what makes me British and proud to be so. We could have easily given up that barren rock deep in the south Atlantic and simply recovered the few residents and re-settled them here. But we didn't, we sent our forces half way around the world and gave Argentina a bollock punch by wearing their troops down to the point of surrender.

So now Argentina and a group of other impoverished south American countries are condemning the UK for drilling for oil off the Falkland Islands, our territory.

Fine I say. We may be at the depths of our deepest recession, we may be over stretched in Afghanistan. But fuck it, bring it on anyway. At the risk of sounding like a fuckwit neo-nazi loony, just try it and see what happens. You can say whatever you like about the British, but our spirit and resolve will always prevail.

We have values, we have pride and we have determination, that will never be crushed, oil or no oil, 10 or 10000 miles away, whether for 5 British citizens or 5000 British citizens or 5 million British citizens.

In 1982 British citizens were reminded of what we stand for, why we are proud and what we can achieve as a nation. In these disparate days of British politics, perhaps it's about to happen again. I hope not, but in a horrible way, I hope so. We are not to be undermined and we are not to be divided.

Oh my, who the fuck do I think I am, Churchill?

Fridge/bus mentalist

An excerpt from an email which I enjoyed writing:

Well I've been off work, and I have to say, having fun. However, I suffer from a crippling deficiency of motivation and this plagues my time off. So other than socialising, going to Tesco, drinking more than the government prescribes, scratching my arse, the odd gym visit and pondering long and hard about my return to stand-up, I've achieved very little. I did do a wee bit of DIY the other day. You see I've been 'doing up' my hall and living room for about a year now, with small and tiring bursts of activity and long periods of inactivity, longing for the 'magical DIY fairy' to visit during the night and finish it. I've pulled out 5 of my teeth and placed them all under my pillow (one at a time of course, I'm not daft), but that fairy never comes. I noticed the other day that the house 2 doors down has nice new living room decor and curtains, maybe just another 2 teeth and the fairy will make it here. Of course the re-constructive surgery will be more expensive than just getting a painter and decorator in to do it, but I'm a man and will never admit defeat. Unless defeated by a fairy of course. This is one of my great failings, being a man.

I haven't been sleeping well, because of my fridge and nightmares. My fridge was making a horrendous noise, today I ripped that mother-fucker apart and found the source of noise that was keeping me up nights. I had to force defrost a frost-free freezer (LIES damn LIES). I have diagnosed a new defrost cycle timer is required, cost £20, better than a new fridge-freezer, cost £350. I will feel very smug when that tall white bastard starts acting like the 2 year old it is, then I will sleep easy. It ruined 3 haggis today, the fucking Japanese bastard.

The nightmares are mainly the usual: unable to get upstairs on a double decker bus due the poorly thought out design and anti-tall-people devices fitted in the future and then abusing a tramp loudly about not moving seat. Then being chased through a high st shopping centre by an angry bus-rage fuelled mob, who plainly couldn't see my point. I think some of them have pitch forks, that should be reserved for vampires and aliens, not the Scottish.

Maybe I have issues, with white goods and public transport. Maybe a I should go for some counselling. Or a new mattress, that might do it.

Mick, fridge/bus mentalist.

Up to date

I am really shit at keeping things up to date. I probably wouldn't have a TV licence now if they didn't keep sending me one every year and extracting money by direct debit every month from my bank.

So it's no wonder then that I don't keep this page of random rantings up to date. I really would love to, but I guess at the age of 33 I have come to realise that I am just, well, too lazy.

It's a shame really, cause I started this blog as a material generation tool for my stand-up comedy. Which, of course I have been too lazy to keep up, both the comedy and the blog.

The last time I updated this was 01st Oct 2009. Now I'm sure lots of very funny things and more importantly infuriating things, have happened to me since then. So why don't I just spend 5 mins writing them down????

I don't know the answer to that and maybe I never will. However having read over some of my previous posts, I really enjoyed them and had forgotten how much I enjoyed writing. I guess it's about being disciplined. I should be more disciplined, however I won't hold my breath for that to kick in!

Disco Stick

I would never let Lady GaGa "take a ride on my Disco Stick" cause she's a minger!

Selfish mums

I have long held the very unpopular belief that women who have children are of a great detriment to our beautiful society.

When a woman has a child something disappears from her. For a long time medical professionals have believed that Placenta is merely a by-product of birth, a means of sustaining an unborn child. I dispute this. I believe that Placenta contains a woman's common sense, reasoning skills and sense of self-worth. When she has her first little baby, the whole lot is shat out with it rendering her unable to interact with the real world at large.

Don't believe me? Go to a supermarket car park and watch any of them try to park a car/get out of the car/shop/pack shopping/pay/keep control of their brats/push a trolley/open a car door/unload a trolley/get the brats into a car/reverse a car/drive a car forwards/put petrol in a car.

A perfectly good and useful woman can be ruined by having children.

Today I went to the local shopping centre and parked in the multi storey car park attached. To my utter dismay and unbridled disappointment, when I returned to my car, someone had parked so close to my car, I was unable to open the driver's side door more than 20cm. Now I admit I'm not the slimmest of chaps, however, I had no hope of getting into my car, no matter how much I breathed in. The only route to the driver's seat was through the passenger side door.

I briefly considered waiting until the offender arrived back at their vehicle and giving them the benefit of my wisdom (abusing them severely). However I thought this a waste of my valuable time to hang around just to make a mother cry. Unable to leave the scene without some means of retribution I thought a polite note should cover all the points I'd liked to have put to them in person. The note read thus:

Thanks you selfish Fuckwit. You parked so close I couldn't get in my car. You are obviously a complete retard

That made me feel slightly better. I hope it ruined someone else's day though. You may be wondering how I knew this person was a brain dead school-run-mum. Because they were driving a (badly parked) Citroen Picasso, that's why.

Well hello blog, how have you been?

Wow,

it been a long time since I blogged. One post was accidental, I done a group reply from my old email address about a virus. It didn't make good reading to be honest.

I just read some of my old posts. I liked them , even if no one else did.

Perhaps blogging is a way to get rid of the perpetual frustrations of life that I face day to day. I'll give it another go.

my email account was hijacked and sent you a virus - sorry

Hi all,

 

this email account, which I never really use now, was hi-jacked by a cyber-nerd lowlife type. Subsequently, they sent out a load of viruses and spyware to everyone in my address book. One of these viruses even made it onto another of my computers, which it totally corrupted (latest anti-virus, firewall and spyware installed, all of which missed it!).

 

Anyway, I have now reagined access over this account. Please delete any previous emails from this account, don't open them whatever you do.

 

sorry if any of you were affected.

Browny has the baby

I feel sorry for Gordon Brown. It would appear that before Gordon was handed the Labour baby, the baby had a severe case of diarrhoea, and now it's just shit itself in Gordon's arms, all over his best suit!

Since he has taken over, scandal after scandal has emerged and pressure is growing for his resignation. Firstly after apparently bottling it to call a general election, Northern Rock almost collapsed and the government gave them £24 Billion of the taxpayers money. As if that wasn't bad enough a few weeks ago some idiot at the Department for Work and Pensions sent two discs in unrecorded, insecure post containing the details (including the bank accounts) of up to 25 million people.

Now this week Harriet Harlot, sorry, Harman has been accused of accepting unlawful donations for her deputy leader campaign. These donations were made by an influential Labour donor, hidden behind apparent donations of several other Labour supporters and finally through a woman who had no knowledge of them. Subsequently Labour face repaying £600,000 of donations to clear their name!

Oh Gordon Gordon, what are you going to do to keep your party in order. As I said at the start I feel sorry for him, but he's going to have to get his house in order very quickly to maintain any credibility.

Today I watched Prime Minister's Question time. Usually a humdrum affair, today it was explosive! The leader of the Conservatives David Cameron, a laughable and socially impotent man, savaged Brown at the dispatch box. Savaged no less!! Gordon needs something big to come back form this. If a laughable nerd like Cameron savages anyone, it's getting close to their final curtain I'm sure. Unfortunately what Brown needs now is a national disaster, to bring everyone behind him.

The debate, if you could call it that, did have it's comedic moments. Quote of the day has to go to Lib Dem MP Vince Cable with this gem:

"The house has noticed the prime minister's remarkable transformation in the last few weeks from Stalin to Mr Bean"

There's nothing much more to say!

Heather Mills McCartney can do more for the world than recycling her leg!

Crackpot divorcee Heather Mills McCartney has come out today in support of Vegan organisation Viva. Viva support vegetarianism, veganism and animal rights. They have recently launched a new campaign entitled HOT!. This campaign purports to save the environment by highlighting the contribution us meat eaters make to the ever popular bandwagon topic of climate change.

She was interviewed on London talk radio station LBC today and crumbled under the pressure of questioning by presenter Nick Ferrari, finally hanging up after being asked some searching questions about her involvement.

I have, or should I say had, no particular problem with or interest in the wooden legged bint. However she has now become just another environment zealot.

What the fuck are these people trying to achieve, demonising the consumption of meat products by trying to link their production to global warming? Everything thing we do these days is somehow being linked to environment change, whether it's driving our cars, going on holiday, using the lights in our houses, keeping ourselves warm and now apparently, having a nice piece of steak for your tea.

Well I've got news for these greasy haired, sap sucking, bleeding heart self righteous cunts: The good normal people of the world will not stop eating meat for you or for any other fucking idiot who come up with some wild figure about how many tons of CO2 meat processing produces.

This is just another pathetic attempt to use the fallacy of climate change in a tenuous link to their own ends. I'm sick of being told when to turn my lights on and off, to turn my thermostat down and to drive a car made out of sustainable balsa powered by bird droppings. It feels like I can't do anything any longer without the threat of the environment zealots looking over my shoulder and telling me that I'm singularly responsible for the downfall of the planet and the melting of the polar ice caps.

I have an idea for Viva and Heather. Before you tell me to stop eating meat, something that I not only enjoy, but something that I feel is exercising my choice, a basic human right. Why don't you firstly get the USA to sign up to the Kyoto agreement and then discuss with China their use of fossil fuels and consumption of the Earth's natural mineral commodities. Yes that's it, why don't you stop targeting the normal people who are going about their normal, everyday lives enjoying a bacon sandwich or a chateau briand of an evening? Escalate these campaigns to the real culprits of 'supposed' climate change .

No actually, that would be too difficult, nay, impossible. On second thoughts, just keep trying to make the weak minded and impressionable citizens of the world scared to have a bit of lunch. That'll be easier for foodophobes and do-gooders.

A closing thought, much like Jerry Springer but without the patronising undertone:

If God didn't want us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat.



See the fucking loonies cry here and make up your own mind : http://www.viva.org.uk/

Sean Kingston

You can't sing and they only put you on TV so all the fat teenagers think there's someone out there, even for them.

Give it up Sean, while you still have some dignity left, you fat tosser.

Facebook

I've got one of them Facebook things now. It's not a book, but my face is on it.

I tried to resist the temptation of this for ages, as I love to go against the popular flow. However I thought it a good way to keep even less in touch with people by replacing them with a link to a small photo on a website that I'll never look at. Also I get to know fascinating things about them like: What book I'm reading just now, What mood I'm in (portrayed by a little smiley thing) and When was the last time I had a pooh. Ok I made the last one up, but I might introduce it to my Facebook page.... just.... well just because I can.

All of this intimate and completely superfluous information about people I hardly ever see means that when I do see them, we'll have even less to talk about. Unless of course, it's about what's on their Facebook page.

Progress.

Wow it's dusty in here.

It is indeed dusty in here as I haven't been in for over a year. This blog has been stored in my garden shed, under the decorating stuff in a damp cardboard box. I only came across it again the other day when putting the barbecue away for the winter. Unfortunatley it's discoloured slightly as I think the mice have been weeing on it.

Now that I've found it again I might dust off the cobwebs and start using it. A bit of Mr Sheen and WD40 and it'll be good to go.

I'm sorry for neglecting you, Blog. A whole year's worth of ranting and potentially funny stuff has passed and you've missed it all. I'll try and keep you filled in, in future.

Terrorism's many guises

My friend said something excrementally stupid yet monumentally funny the other day. We were casually chatting about terrorism, as you do, when he said "Yeah what about that Spanish terrorist group.... FETA!". Well I nearly fetched myself a stool, so I could have the pleasure of falling off it. I haven't laughed so much in ages.

"FETA, fucking FETA.... I screamed. It's ETA, you cunt!"

But it did amuse me considerably. The thought of a terrorist organisation funded entirely from the sale of soft watery cheese! How bad would everyone feel if they suddenly realised that their lovely summer salads were supporting the Basque seperatist group in there continuing war against the Spanish government for independence.

Maybe my friend had something with his little slip of the tongue I mean, FETA, ETA, not too far removed from each other are they? Both from the Med too! The Bastards, I haven't been able to look at cheese the same way since, just incase it's providing bombs for Al Qaecheddar.

That was the best (worst) pun I could conjure up at short notice. Please feel free to leave any cheese-terrorism related puns in the comments section if you can do better (worse).

Yours,

Osama Bin Edam.

Richard Hammond

The popular television presenter Richard Hammond has been involved in a near fatal accident whilst driving a jet powered car.

In the same vain as Steve Irwin, Hammond is a popular and likeable man with a family and thus tributes have been flooding in to the BBC for him. I like Richard Hammond, he's a congenial and affable character. I have watched and enjoyed most of the different programs he has hosted. He has the rare ability to laugh at and belittle himself for the audiences enjoyment.

However.

Let's not lose sight of what he was up to at the time.... driving a jet powered car....at 300 mph.

Jet engines are not designed for use in cars. The one in question being designed for use in a 1950's light attack aircraft. Car's are not generally designed for use with jet engines, being predominantly ground dwelling vehicles. Richard Hammond (and I'm assuming here most other humans) was not designed to stop suddenly at 300mph.

There are the facts. Whilst I have the utmost sympathy for the man and his family, it doesn't take a fucking genius to work out that it was...shall we say...a bit silly to be there in the first place.

As with Steve Irwin, who by the way I liked a lot, Hammond was out of his realm. If a Stingray was wandering into Irwin's his garden, he'd have been more than justified to kill it, especially if it was interfering with his barbecue or his kids swing. He strayed into the Stingray's realm, probably poked it with a stick, and well, the rest is history. Hammond was in a realm in which his vehicle should have been fitted with wings and a means of flight control, and, well....we'll see.

I hope he lives, then he can do it again, live on TV this time.

Biofuel Bollocks

Biofuels! The answer to all the worlds ills? I think not.

Now don't get me wrong, there is a lot of research into Biofuels at the minute. A lot of good research too. I'm all for that idea that we can grow crops, make breakfast cereal out of one bit, ferment the other bits into alcohol so I can get pissed cheaper and then with the remainder of what's left make a biofuel. A fuel that sucks carbon out of the air as it grows and then when it burns in a car engine, only gives out the same amount of Carbon Dioxide. Thus being "Carbon Neutral".

Great idea I think, as long as I can run my car cheaper.

Unfortunately everyone suddenly thinks this is the answer to all the worlds growing climate problems. So as a result, some bleeding-heart, cous cous eating, hemp sandal wearing, tree shagging wankers think that because we have this small technological breakthrough......... lets punish anyone who doesn't use it!

Who shall we punish?????? AIRLINES!!!! Yes that's right those massive businesses who have such a strong and stable foothold on the world economy? No, the one industry who have been through hell in the last 5 years, shed millions of jobs and are barely surviving. Let's punish them!

All these hole dwelling, protesting Greenpeace arseholes are under the impression that it'd be great to tax airlines out of the air. Well get in line sweethearts, my old mate Mr Al Qaeda is already hell bent on frightening the shit out of everyone who steps on a plane. The last thing air travelers need is a brainless twat trying to force the airlines to run jet engines on Olive oil, or tax people for the pleasure of using oil derivative fuel.

The world economy has driven the need and demand for air transport. Without a question of a doubt air transport, whether it be cargo shipments or SLF (Self Loading Freight, work it out for yourself) the world economy relies on my industry to survive. Countries which haven't before had a pot to piss in have seen a step change in their economies with the advent of cheap air travel for tourism and import/export of goods.

I can't see what good pricing airlines and passengers out of the air will have for the environment. Yes we will have slightly better chances of reversing the onslaught of climate change, but at the same time people will simply pay more money for the privilege, economies will suffer and more and more people will be out of jobs.

Was climate change known about at the time of the industrial revolution? Imagine if you will that industry leaders of the day were approached by a 'Government Think Tank' crewed with a bunch of Organic Rice Cake eating University Post Grads and suggested that their interests were harming our beautiful Earth and maybe they should consider some less polluting alternatives alternatives to Coal. I'd like to think that they'd be taken outside and given a jolly good thrashing to within an inch of their worthless lives, just to teach them a lesson.

I think things should be the same today. All the fuckwits who are eager to appear on Newsnight blathering on about the benefits of fueling aircraft with 'Biofuel alternatives' should be sent skyward in a 747, over the mid Atlantic, full of Vegetable Oil, to learn a stark lesson in the freezing points of liquids. Namely that, at minus 56 degrees centigrade, most things other than jet fuel (including self righteous politicians) will FREEZE, rendering them useless (self righteous politicians become useless at anything nearing room temperature).

I guess what I'm saying is that there is a good reason that aircraft with jet engines need to use this type of Oil derivative fuel. Contrary to popular opinion there is not a department in each airline trying to work out how to best pollute the planet. I suggest that if the people who are so concerned with pollution want to do something proactive about it,stop trying to intercept Oil tankers by blockading them with 13ft rubber dinghies, disembark from 'The Rainbow Warrior' and go to Uni, get yourself a real and worthwhile degree, say in Physics or Mechanical Engineering and solve some problems.

Lets line these dissenters up against a wall and shoot them in cold blood. That will significantly reduce the amount of Carbon Dioxide emissions they produce whilst spouting politically correct shite. Need any volunteers for the firing squad, I'm your man. I'll work overtime too, without pay!

Pricks!

Blogging

I've been fucking lazy! Unbelievably fucking lazy. I've not blogged for a long long time, so long I nearly forgot the password. Why?

Well I don't quite know. I suppose there have been several reasons. I was on a project at work for about 3 months. It took a lot out of me, even though everyone else thinks it was a scam. It's not worth explaining fully unless anyone reading this understands the intricate nature of migrating Airworthiness data from a 30 year old computer system to a 3 year old one. Shit, I'm even boring myself with just outlining it!

After the project I went back to "normal" work for about 2 or 3 days. My senior manager then asked me if I'd like to go off and do something different, off the back of what I'd achieved on the project. It sounded like good career development and a bit of an easy ride for 6 months. Oh how wrong I could be! It's fucking mental! A pretty thankless job, ultra high workload, little if any respect and it's bloody draining!

I suppose all of this has led me to feeling less 'funny' about things. I haven't lost my sense of humour, I hope. But I can't feel as flippant and surreal about life as I used to. I started this blog as a sideline to performing comedy. Hoping it would self-generate ideas and material. It did for a while, but I suppose as the life was knocked out of me and I started feeling less funny, I didn't want to just log on and moan about how shit I felt.

Anyway, I was driving home after my third nightshift the other morning, listening to Radio 4, a station for boring people, fishermen, farmers, old people and information junkies. There's lots of info on R4, lots of really meaty stuff. Gardeners World, Farming today, The Shipping forecast and prayer for the day. Anyway, I was listening to an interview with an exceptionally boring man who ran a political Blog. This wanker was getting 10-20,000 hits a day on his site. What a cunt! At future projections it'll take me 16 years to get 10,000 hits! Asked what was his secret of blogging, he said, it's simple, you have to blog every day! No matter how you feel. Whether you have something worthwhile to say or not. This forces you to talk (type) about something different ever day. Keepin' it fresh, keepin' it real, hangin' with the homies, talkin' like a bell-end!

You know what, he's right! He's fucking boring and he gets nearly twenty thousand hits a day! My life is fairly boring and what do I get, bored and even more boring! So funny or not, boring or not. I'm gonna write more. Blog more. Even if I think it's rubbish. That's the key to a blog, it's a log, of stuff about my life, boring or interesting, sad or funny.

I should and I will do more. I owe it to myself, my life owes it to me and the internet deserves to be poisoned by my shit!

Cheers muckers!