February 2009 Archives

... my blog! It's been  five years since I first put finger to keyboard and published my random ravings for anyone to see and when I think about it, it seems so very long ago.

Of course in the last 12 months I also hit 40 and am now entering that time of life when things sag, droop and ... errrr ... errr... become more difficult to remember (like my own name and address - that sort of thing).

It's the oldest cliché in the world, but knowing what I know now, I can't help but think that innocence and ignorance were the two best things that ever happened to me. Years ago I never worried about interest rates, employment issues were a twinkle in someone else's eye and I wasn't been constantly angered by other people's actions.

To all intents, being younger held a certain wonderment, there were still things to do, places to see and achievements to best. I think, that as one gets older, those achievements and minor victories tend to get left behind somewhere, replaced by mundane worries and concerns which aren't half as much fun.

Still, when I'm not reflecting on ye goode olde days like an old fart, I do try to retain a healthy sense of the child within. To be honest, if I haven't stopped being childish at this age, it's never going to happen!!

So, I'll still be hankering after tiny laptops and video games systems, laughing at kids cartoons and making plans to build my very own SuperVillain headquarters under the back garden.

Getting older doesn't mean you can't have any fun now, does it?

(the more observant of you will have noticed commenting is back after an unhealthy absence)

Since 2001 the Western world has been living with the ever-present threat of terrorism looming over it's shoulder. After attacks on the London Underground, hotels in Mumbai, failed bombings in London's West End, Glasgow Airport and a show bomber, we've seen our civil liberties eroded, and our way of life forever altered.

And all by a bunch of bearded religious twats who think they're better than we are.

They expect us to "respect" them, to listen to their arguments and to give them what they want. But they'll never get their way because, quite frankly...

Al-Qaeda are SHIT.

And here's why:

* Their leader is a tatty looking old gimp with an iron lung
* They operate out of the arse-end of Pakistan
* There is no semblance of organisation to their ... organisation
* They only have three teeth between them

So, clearly, if they're to be successful they need to effect a few changes, here's my suggestions:

* Ditch Osama Bin Liner and get a proper boss in place, preferably someone who runs a technical multi-mega-corp and is bald or has an eye-patch and a menacing scar
* Operate out of a luxury Caribbean island instead of some Middle-Eastern lavatory
* Sort out the organisation - introduce some management structure and hold regular team meetings (for the team members who haven't blown themselves up)
* Get a dental plan
* Hire nice, clean henchmen and kit them out in matching red suits so they are easily recognisable - no open-toed sandals either, proper, shiny boots

and finally ...

* Get a proper evil villain HQ equipped with a ludicrously fancy helicopter or submarine.

In short - watch a James Bond movie you bunch of monkeys! It's really not hard is it now? Everyone knows it is vital to have a real-life version of Tracey Island, equipped with all sorts of cool gadgetry and always bear in mind that you're going to lose the battle at the end, but only after revealing in minute detail what you intend to do - though that's pretty much well-known already and goes under the heading of "blowing shit up".

And finally, get a cool yet oddly evil pet.

Now that's that way to do terrorist villainy properly!

I've just seen the new Government anti-cannabis advert, and it really set me to thinking.

Cannabis, apparently, makes you giggle a lot, then you have panic attacks, then insane paranoia and finally you become a dribbling schizophrenic - scary stuff. Apparently only "Frank" can save you at this point...

So, time for my confession.

My name is Crussell and I'm a Malteser addict.

It started so innocently at first, I was hanging out down Tesco with my mates, abusing pensioners and people with limps and then a mate offered me a fun-sized bag of LIVING HELL.

I thought I could I could handle it, a couple of chocolatey malt balls here and there - what harm could it do? But before I knew it I was trapped in it's sugary melt-in-the-mouth madness.

I started bunking off work to go to the corner shop, sometimes sopending £2.50 or £3 at a time. Hiding in the firm's toilets to cram them in, three, four, sometimes five at a time. I lost interest in food, my skin became spotty and I was spending all the loose fifty pence pieces I could get my hands on.

Before long I escalated to Revels and even ... fizzy cola bottles.

My wife spotted the signs, she thought I was on smack or Charlie, but I finally broke down and admitted to my addiction, she was horrified.

As part of my rehab I was forced to edure hours of torture, watching Gillian McKeith sift through people's poo and learning that I did not, in fact, "look good naked".

The withdrawal was the hardest part, I had to lock myself in the house, eating only celery and peas for weeks at a time but eventually I fought off the cravings - it was hard and miserable. I lost my job at Cadbury's and was forced to live in the shed until I was clean.

I'm much happier now, apart from a relapse involving a large Toblerone and some Jelly Tots, I've been straight for hours.

I did think about visiting schools to tell my sad story. encoraging kids to increase the amount of Ketamine and Ecstasy they take (it's safer than horse riding apparently) and I think I'm getting my message, I even have a catchy catchphrase to catch the kids attention - "Chocolate balls, don't, don't do it"...

Government advisor Professor David Nutt will today recommended the Ecstasy be downgraded to a Class B drug because, it's not as dangerous as horse riding.

Last year, 100 people died in horse riding accidents and 30 from incidents involving E.

Prof Nutt (the clue may be in the name) may have a point which I will illustrate with examples from my own personal life:

* I once fell off a horse, it was a long way to the ground and it really bloody hurt when I landed on my head.

* I also once tripped over an Ecstasy tablet in a nightclub that a careless raver had dropped. No injuries were incurred and I didn't get so much as bruise on my toe.

So there you have it, in your face evil Government overlords - strike one for the pro-drug lobby.

This argument (in addition to being marginally flawed) set me thinking, you see, as far as I remember, almost everything that's followed by the words "Class", "A"  and "Drug" is usually pretty bad for you and can result in death or serious injury if overdone.

So what exactly is the point in changing the classification of E?

Prof Nutt says it's not really, really, really dangerous so it should be designated less harmful than, say, Heroin. But isn't that a bit like saying pistols are less dangerous than sub-machine guns because they fire smaller bullets - it makes no sense whatsoever!!!

The Home Office have said they'll reject the Nutty Professor's opinion and Home Secretary Jacqui Smith said he was trivialising the issue, a bizarre statement coming from a government that won't do anything about the mass production of Heroin in Afghanistan because it might damage their economy, even though we have a ton of troops over there...

Ah well, time to put a big fish and a little fish in a box and throw a few shapes ...

What a great idea they are, little silicon buds that fit neatly into your ear holes, cancelling out the noise of the outside world so you can listen to your tunes comfortably and a lower volume then standard phones.

However they're not so useful when the buds get stuck in your earholes!!!

Crowning a morning of utter misery I had to stand, half deaf, on Embankment station digging about in my ear with a house key to try and remove the offending item. The last time I got anything wedged in an orifice I was a toddler and jammed a Jelly Tot up my nose ...

So, the morning so far:

* Tried to feed pills to Tom the cat using the trusted method or hiding them in squirty cream, only Tom didn't want squirty cream at 7am - FAIL

* Got to station car park and fed £4.40 into the parking meter in various 10, 20 and 50p combinations, shame the last 10p was refused every time for 10 minutes - FAIL

* Fell asleep on train (again) and woke up with seconds to spare before it set off from London to the South Coast - DAMN NEAR FAIL

* Earphone got wedged in ear hole - HEARING FAIL

* Removed earphone and boarded the only bloody tube train in London which went at .000005 mph for 20 feet before breaking down

I am currently hiding under my desk in fear of the sky collapsing on me...

I've always loved the poetry of Brian Patten since I read a collection of material from him, Adrian Henri and Roger McGough called The Mersey Sound. For some reason I lost touch with his work but he popped up on Radio 4 on Saturday and read a poem called The Minister for Exams and excited my interest all over again.

When I was a child I sat an exam.
The test was so simple
There was no way I could fail.

Q1. Describe the taste of the moon.

It tastes like Creation I wrote,
it has the flavour of starlight.

Q2. What colour is Love?

Love is the colour of the water a man
lost in the desert finds, I wrote.

Q3. Why do snowflakes melt?

I wrote, they melt because they fall
onto the warm tongue of God.

There were other questions.
They were as simple.

I described the grief of Adam when he was expelled from Eden.
I wrote down the exact weight of an elephant's dream.

Yet today, many years later,
For my living I sweep the streets
or clean out the toilets of the fat hotels.

Why? Because I constantly failed my exams.
Why? Well, let me set a test.
Q1. How large is a child's imagination?
Q2. How shallow is the soul of the Minister for Exams?

Ahhh celebrities, they go to posh parties, have spiffy chums and every single word they say is salivated over by the British public - even when it's said in private.

Prince Harry records a private home video, calls one of his chums the "p-word" and all hell breaks loose. Carole Thatcher, in an off-air green room conversation makes a comedy remark about a tennis player who looks like a kids toy, it's reported and all hell breaks loose.

So, the p-word and the g-word obviously cause great offence, especially at the matronly BBC, great bastion of political correctness.

How is it then, that when the inevitable storm of protest hits BBC current affairs programmes, respected journalists and commentators bang on about Pakis and Gollywogs every other word.

"So (insert offended person's name here) is PAKI really a bad word. how do you feel about being called a PAKI?? PAKI PAKI GOLLYWOG PAKIWOG WOGGYPAK " (etc etc)

Now, I don't know about you, but that smacks of double standards. A comment made in private surroundings is pounced on  yet immediately after the fact TV and radio use the terms without impunity - and no-one seems to mind!

This set me thinking, however, and if we start to avoid all slang terms and stereotypes where will we end up?

Allo Allo would be injurious to the French (and Germans for that matter), no more Last of the Summer Wine as it makes Yorkshire folk look like dim pensioners and Bread would be off the table as it portrays Liverpudlians as thieving, work-shy dole scroungers, and that's before you get to anything that's faintly edgy - it's "classic British comedy".

There needs to be a set of suitable standards but someone needs to come up with them quickly and they need to be consistent or our broadcasters will spend more time censoring shows then making them - it's time to wheel out the great cliche; It's political correctness gone mad! (except you can't say mad as it's offensive to people with mental health problems - see how far we can go?

Just a side observation, but it appears Carole Thatcher was reported by comedian Jo Brand who was disgusted at her use of the word gollywog. Odd really, as Brand, who commented at the time of the leak of the BNP's membership list that:"Now we know where to post the shit to" wasn't censured in any way shape or form.

Interestingly, Jermey Clarkson's just landed in hot water for referring to Gordon Brown as a "One-eyed Scottish idiot" - who knew you could get into bother for telling the truth :)

News reaches the interwebs of a prank pulled off by students in Austin Texas which involved re-programming those portable roadside warnings. The jokers replaced "lane out" messages with a variety of zombie-related warnings including the one on the left.

Clearly, this was an utterly irresponsible act - if Nazi Zombies really do attack, the people of Austin will take one look at the alert system and mistake it for a joke, what'll happen then??

I'll tell you. Before you know it, the rotting remains of the SS will be swarming over the countryside and only a handful of people and George Romero will survive...

Having studied Zombie movies for ... far too long ... I reckon your best chance of survival is to hide up a tree until they all go away, zombies are usually slow, stumbling creatures with very little brain who can't read a paper, drive  or climb trees so, surely, nipping up a stout Larch or Scots Pine will provide a safe area until you can get away...

Hoorah for Mr Gordon Brown, comedian and current British Prime Minister.

Not content with taking the credit for the current lack of credit and for showing a surreal level of optimism in the face of disaster (Brown: Britain is well placed to handle the current economic crisis, IMF: Dude, you're totally SCREWED), he now has to face a growing wave of resentment from striking workers who feel they've been betrayed by his policies.

After promising British Jobs for British Workers two years ago, he now seems to be telling refinery workers that what he actually meant was .... well ... I'm not actually sure what he meant, or how he meant to say it. In an interview with teh BBC, Brown said (read this carefully boys and girls..)

"What we've got to do over time, as I've always said, is that where there are jobs in this country, we need people with the skills, developed in this country".

Tackled about his 2007 Labour conference pledge to create "British jobs for British workers" - a slogan used by the striking refinery workers - Mr Brown said: "Well, we are part of a single European market but I have always understood the worries that people have.

They look round and say, well, why can't we do these jobs, jobs ourselves, these are jobs that we can do.

"When, when I talked about British jobs, I was taking about giving people in Britain the skills, so that they have the ability to get jobs which were at present going to people from abroad."

Mr Brown added: "You'll find that no government in history is doing more to try and find ways that we can help people who are unemployed back in to work as quickly as possible."

See, it makes perfect nonsense, and throws a few desperate untruths into the mix for good measure -  actrue politician! a true statesman! a true lost cause.

At a time when Barack Obama is promising the US change, hope and a brighter future, Brown promises nothing, offers platitudes and seems utterly out of control.

There's never been a better time to be British...