Someone I know and loathed died at the weekend. He hanged himself from the rafters of his house. Oddly, we had a great deal in common even though we only met one another half a dozen times. He wanted the song “Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks played at his funeral, which, was one of my all time favourite tunes.
I will always hate him for what he did, but, no-one deserves to die like that …
Seasons in the Sun – Terry Jacks
Goodbye to you my trusted friend
We’ve known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we’ve climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and A B C’s
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
Goodbye my friend it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I’ll be there
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons
Out of time……
Goodbye Papa please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along.
Goodbye Papa its hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I’ll be there.
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone.
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone.
Goodbye Michelle my little one
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground.
Goodbye Michelle it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone
All our lives we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons
Out of time……
[fade out]

Huzzah for the crazy Germans who think the Queen should apologise for World War II!!
Apparently they think the Queen should make some form of round-about apology for the blanket bombing of cities like Dresden. Odd really, I never knew she was a bomber pilot…

*correction to Wednesday’s post about loafing*
Look into my eyes …. you are feling sleepy … the world is drifting away … you will forget everything I wrote two posts ago about being a loafer … because I’ve just realised it’s not big, clever or, in fact, true.
I’m beginning to think my bum might actually be superglued to the chair I’m sitting on right now, either that or my nether regions have no intention of getting up and walking about and are, in fact, on strike for want of a better pair of trousers.
The last three nights I’ve been here till 4am trying to complete the vast amount of work I suddenly realised I had! So, three websites and a DVD later I STILL find myself sitting here writing rubbish that hardly anyone reads. (I say hardly because I now know there’s at least one reader – thanks Si !!!).
So there you have it. A retraction. I admit it. I am really busy … honest …
And now that I have atoned for the sin of lying I will attempt to nip downstairs for a coffee and a nice cream bun. At least, I will once I’ve taken my buttocks to arbitration and cut a deal with them.

From the pages of “you couldn’t make this stuff up” …
Police responding to a call of a convulsing Elvis Presley impersonator soon found themselves in a high-speed chase of another faux celebrity — a man dressed as one of the Blues Brothers.
Crystal Police Capt. Dave Oyaas said the bizarre string of events began when officers were called to a veterans hall Monday morning to find a man dressed as Elvis Presley apparently in convulsions.
When the officers approached, Oyaas said the man suddenly jumped up and yelled, “Viva Las Vegas!” before singing show tunes.
At about the same time, two women said another man at the veterans hall dressed as John Belushi’s character in “The Blues Brothers” had stolen their car and driven to a nearby airport.
The man led police on a high-speed chase around the airport before officers forced him to stop and arrested him.

I’ve been thinking very seriously over the last couple of days about a subject which has become very close to my heart. It’s a growing phenomenon in the UK and it’s about time the government sat up and took notice of it.
I am, of course, talking about loafing.
As a newbie loafer (several weeks sitting on my arse now watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead of working) I’m appalled at the lack of any government support schemes for us layabouts. I mean, honestly, do people think it’s easy watching TV all day instead of working for a living ???
For a start, it’s difficult to know exactly how to “loaf” properly, there are documentary programmes on the BBC which highlight the plight of unemployed loafers (see also The Great Unwashed) but where are the support groups and telephone hotlines to offer advice ??
I have gathered together several questions relevant to the current situation which remain unanswered, and if anyone can shed any light on them I’d be very grateful:
* What’s the maximum allowable time one can remain laid out on the sofa before bed sores set in?
* Does the casual loafer have to drink cheap lager and wear a heavily stained vest to fully appreciate their art, or would a plaid dressing gown, comfy slippers and a glass of high quality Port be acceptable.
* Does the loafer need a wide range of conversational skills or will “If that’s the fooking DSS at the door, tell them I don’t live here” do ?
* Should I develop some form of serious back trouble in order to avoid work ever again???
Just this weekend, while having a couple of beers with my father in the local pub, (several loafing points gained for drinking six pints while telling everyone I was unemployed!!) I overheard the story of a local guy known as agrophobia who hasn’t worked for a long time due to … agrophobia …
Thing is, it’s only a problem DURING THE DAY. It turns out he has a home help who takes him shopping and drops him off at the pub during daylight hours because it’s too frightening to do it by himself. Thing is, as soon as night bursts onto the scene he’s perfectly fine and can navigate his way to the boozer unaided.
Which raises the following the following question:
Is this man really ill, is it the greatest exercise in loafing ever or is he really a vampire who can’t nip out for a packet of Hobnobs and six pints without someone to keep the sunshine off him and carry him about the place ???
I’m in two minds as to whether to applaud him for his slackness and ability to buck the system or send round Sarah Michelle Geller and the Scooby gang to sort him out with the sharpened leg of my dining room table … (actually I say I’m in two minds, but the truth is I’m too busy laying in front of the TV, creating the world’s biggest arse groove in the sofa to actually care…)
More job-hunting goodness to follow blog fans *yawn*
(just in case you were wondering, here’s the dictionary definition of sarcasm, though the story about the agrophobia guy is totally true ..)
Sarcasm is the making of remarks intended to mock the person referred to (who is normally the person addressed), a situation or thing. It is often used in a humorous manner and expressed through particular vocal intonations. This is often done by simply over-emphasizing the actual statement, or particular words of it. Because it is vocally-oriented, sarcasm is often hard to pick up in written messages.