Sainsburys, and why I hate it.

For those of you who are unaware of Sainsburys, it's a large grocery chain in the UK, a bit like Tesco or Walmart.

I wrote this from bitter experience of the one near me for part of the novel I'm still writing. The central character is a bit more bitter and twisted than me, so it's a bit more scathing. It's also just a first draft, so still a bit rough...

I hate this place. It's an asylum, a place where the lost and confused get dumped by uncaring relatives so that they can forget them. Pensioners wonder aimlessly through the aisles, attached to their trolleys like a life support. Single men squeezing melons to find a ripe one, confused looks on their faces. A woman holds a coconut next to her ear and shakes it, God knows why.

The refrigerated aisle is littered with half empty cages of steel wire whilst a man in an orange fleece slowly puts chicken madras for one on an empty shelf, one by one, occasionally checking use by dates and shuffling them around.

That's the worst thing about this place. Worse than the lost pensioners who've been trapped in here for days - zig zagging at a glacial pace in search of an exit, worse than the mothers with their screaming children parking their trolleys sideways across the aisles by the cheese; worse than all of these is the atrocious stock management. Around every corner and down every aisle it's littered with steel cages half full of whatever. People in orange fleeces taking things out one by one, blocking the aisle so only one trolley pushed by a moron with no sense of urgency or the passage of time can meander at their own pace past them. And despite this, the place has the feel of communist Russia; half empty spaces where the bread should be, a drastic shortage of semi-skimmed milk but an abundance of sterilised. I don't know how they manage it, people stocking shelves all day but there's never any food. It's like an episode of the twilight zone, some shelve stacker's own personal nightmare I've somehow been trapped in.

A sign where the eggs should be lies to me. If there's a country-wide shortage of free range, then where are Asda getting there's from? Well?

And we'll end with a funky choon. This just makes me want to jump around the living room:

The blue-rinse of death

What is it with people who stand in front of me when I'm running? Today it was 2 separate occasions of women with pushchairs, and 1 granny.
You should need a license to operate a pushchair, like a car or a forklift. And like driving a forklift, you'll find that having a mobile phone stuck to your ear whilst one hand digs around inside your handbag makes them unpredictable in the staring department and you're likely to skew wildly about the place severely pissing off innocent runners like me.
And old people, they're just taking the piss. I'm running along, about 20 yards from a bus stop. There's an old lady who looks about 104 sat waiting for the bus. She sees me, stands up, walks out in front of me and turns round to face to the other way just as I get there. I mean what the hell are you doing you blue-rinsed moron? You just been sat there waiting for some hapless fellow to come by so you can jump out in front of them? Luckilly, I managed to swerve into the road (good luck there wasn't an actual bus coming) and miss knocking her skyward.
But really, I don't why I bother. Sometimes, I think I should just keep running in a straight line, no swerving, no moving out of the way, like a train with a psychotic driver hell bent on destruction leaving a trail of blue rinsed hip replacements in my wake.
And I thought this running malarky was supposed to lower my blood pressure.

Anyways, here's quite possibly the most chillaxicle piece of music I know (today anyhow). So if you too feel like screaming at the world, turn up your speakers and listen to this, you'll be thinking of fluffly kittens, lost loves, and all that in no time:

Taxi drivers

Went on a trip last week (hence no posts), including my old stomping ground in the midlands. On the way back I got a taxi to the train station driven by an idiot.
For starters, despite being in somewhat of a rush to be on time for the train, the man seemed to have no concept of 4th gear, or indeed what the vertical peddle on the floor was for. Admittedly, he was getting on a bit, and was rather rotund, so I assume he's not that used to moving in any way shape or form, but if your job is to drive people around all day, it surely makes sense to move your fat ass and not drive below 20mph.
At the first junction we get to, he just stops. No cars coming in either direction, in fact no forms of motorised transport at all that I could see, but we stopped for about 30 seconds anyway. And when I thought this couldn't get any worse, he started talking.

You know you're in for a bad conversation when the first thing the person your speaking to says is 'did you see about that bloke in the News of the World?'
No I didn't - I read a newspaper, one with news in. If I wanted knee-jerk reactionism and unobjective ramblings, I'd speak to a Jeremy Clarkson.
Then he starts talking about paedophiles, and how he thinks they should all be in prison. well no shit Sherlock, you think? He goes on to tell me that if a paedophile ever attacked his grandchildren, he'd probably kill them - and he says this like he's really proud of it, like no one else has ever thought of this and it makes him special.
He then goes on about diplomatic immunity, and how 'foreigners' shouldn't be exempt from the law, by which time I've fallen into a coma.
Most taxi drivers I've had have been friendly, or at least quiet, but I just don't get these folks who think that because I have to sit in the same car, means I 'm really interested in their xenophobic sun-reader take on the world. Next time, I'm wearing ear plugs.

Anyways, on a lighter note, it's only 3 more days before I go see the Killers (and the Kooks) in Hyde Park - really can't wait.

Panda = stupid

What is it with Pandas? I remember as a child, being told all about them at school, how there weren't many left in the wild, about how they only ate bamboo, the captive breeding programs etc, and I couldn't help but think - as a species they're pretty dumb.
Don't get me wrong, I recycle, I turn off lights, I only buy line caught Tuna, and I don't eat Cod (the last 2 is because of the overfishing and general methods used), but I draw the line at Pandas.
I mean - they're hardly helping themselves are they? For a start, Pandas are bears, and like all bears, have evolved to be carnivores. However, Pandas don't eat meat, they have a diet that consists pretty much exclusively of bamboo, which is made up mostly of cellulose. which Pandas can't digest, hence the need for them to eat 30 pounds of the stuff every day. They reason they look a bit dopey and cute all the time is because they're knackered, very little nutrition = very little energy, so anything more than walking slowly is beyond them.

Secondly, they never want to have sex. Despite all that slutty eye make-up, Pandas would rather scratch their arse than have a romantic night in with Mrs Panda. Though I feel that this may be related to my previous point, zoos have tried pretty much everything to get them 'in the mood', including Viagra and Panda porn. I'm not sure how they managed to get hold of Panda porn, given the scarcity of Panda sex, but there you go.
Which all makes me wonder, that maybe without mans intervention, Pandas would be extinct. There are plenty of species that mans activities have brought to extinction, or the brink of it, but this is just the opposite - nature has created an animal that doesn't breed or move (unless you poke it with a stick) so surely we're just screwing with natural selection by getting them jacked up on Viagra and playing Barry White.
In my view, there are other species on the planet more worthy of saving - they just have the misfortune to not look as cute. And why are they called Giant Pandas? Where did all the normal sizes ones go? Probably eaten by the Giant ones - wouldn't surprise me...

Anyways, enough of upsetting people, here's a little ditty from a few years back - and quite possibly the only song by these guys I've ever heard (apparently the rest isn't worth listening to). I thnk they're using this on TV at the moment to advertise another TV show as well...
.

A week is a long time...

We've had elections here in the last week (both local - for councilors and European - for MEPs). We've also seen a lot of in-fighting, plotting, hissy fits, and general murky goings on within the government. The big question in Britain being will Gordon Brown still be prime minister this time next week or will some MPs bump him off in the night.
The whole situation can be confusing, so I've put together a wholly biased and inaccurate handy guide to explain who's who, and a little of what's going on.

David Cameron - leader of the conservatives.
Seen by many as nothing but a vacuous toff, nonetheless, the conservative party are now out in the lead in the polls, and will most probably win the next general election (whenever that is). They have an interesting strategy, in that they don't actually have any policies, or indeed, any opinion on anything at all. They
just keep their mouths shut and wait for the the current government to
mess things up royally, so people will vote for them on the 'can't do any worse'
ticket. Despite some of them using taxpayers money to have their moats cleaned, this is proving to be the most popular thing they've ever done.

Nick Clegg- Vince Cables stunt man, and leader of the liberal democrats. This is the only picture of him known to exist. Ask pretty much anyone in the UK who the leader of the lib dems is, and they'll say Vince Cable (including Vince Cable).

Apparently he was raised by wolves.

And now for the lot currently in power:

Hazel Blears (photo actual size). Former communities secretary and MP for Lillyput. In a way, the one who kicked it all off with her spectacular resignation.
Basically, she dodged paying tax, misused taxpayers money and apologised - which is where she went wrong. Other ministers who did the same and didn't apologies got away with it.

She is actually only 7 inches tall and was created in 1981 by Jim Hensons workshop as a prototype for 'The Dark Crystal'. Her loss to the government is seen by most as 'a pretty good thing'.

Caroline Flint - Former housing minister and all round sex goddess. Another spectacular resignation, blaming Gordon for leading the party on a downward spiral, and for not noticing when she got her hair cut. She's said that Gordon used her for 'window dressing' and that she had no power as a minister, never got invited round for tea and biscuits, and was generally there just to look pretty and make it appear that there where women making decisions in government. To which Gordon quite rightly responded 'There there, now don't you worry your pretty little head about it'. With her and the dwarf gone, along with pretty much every other women in any position of power, Alistair Darling has been told he can only continue in his role as chancellor if he wears a dress.

Gordon 'Happy' Brown - Depending on when you're reading this, either Prime Minister, or former Prime minister. It's been something of a bad few weeks for Mr Brown. It all started off with his rather good impression of the child catcher from chitty chitty bang bang on youtube, and he surprised everyone by going downhill from there. Pretty much everyone around him has resigned, and in the European elections on Thursday he managed to steer his party to it's worst election result since 1918. He's also blamed for the current financial crisis, and seen as a dithering idiot who is out of touch with the British people. Makes you feel bad just watching to be honest. In political terms, he's like an old incontinent sheep dog. He mopes around looking sad all day, and you can't help but think that someone should take him to the vets for a long sleep.

Off the Boyle

Apologies - but this is another post about people singing on TV.

Tonight is the final of 'Britain's got talent', and unless you've been living in a cave for the last month, you've probably heard of Susan Boyle - the 100million hits on youtube singing muppet.
Now don't get me wrong, she can sing quite well, and I'm sure she's a lovely lady (though going ballistic at journalists this week hasn't helped her image), but she's no Kathryn Jenkins.

The fact is, that if she was pretty, she'd be pretty unremarkable. The only thing that makes her stand out is that you don't expect someone who looks like they should definitely get out more (and do some serious plucking with their eyebrows) to be able to sing. If she was 25, reasonably attractive and sang like that, no one outside of the UK would have heard of her, and she may well have not made the semis. Certainly not the final with the out of tune start she had singing memory this week - which the judges seemed to completely miss. No doubt they're banking on her making the final to boost the ratings. Piers Morgan is a prick, and Amanda Holden can't move her face because of all the botox, so I don't expect them to tell the truth, but even Simon Cowell said she did well - and he's usually honest to the point of brutal.
I'm sure this says a lot about the society we live in, and the way we judge people on looks (good and bad), but I'm no psychologist.

There's been lots of press around her this week, maybe quitting the show, going mental at the TV because a singer in another semi-final did well, close to breaking point from the pressure etc... most of which seems to be pretty lame PR by the shows producers and judges to me.
To quote Jo Hemmings, a behavioural psychologist 'She's angry, she overwhelmed. It's all very sad'
My prediction - she won't win. No way they'd risk putting her in front of the queen in her current precarious mental state.

On a brighter note - I'm still not smoking. This is my 6th day, so going pretty well. I'm trying to avoid alcohol - which will either help in that alcohol makes me want to smoke, or hinder, as now I have 2 things to not do. Maybe I should just join a monastery.

Well it's a little after 5am, and I'm partially awake and typing.
I hate not being able to sleep. I have this weird kind of insomnia some days whereby I find it really easy to get to sleep at night, I just wake up ridiculously early and can't go back to sleep (about 4am today).

Personally, I blame work. Having a shitter of a week/month/year.
To make my boring job worse, our overlords have told us that we won't be getting a pay rise this year. Pay freezes for everyone. They've also said that no one can get promoted, as that would mean they'd have to give them a pay rise, and they're not going to do that. Which is particularly bad if you got told you were getting a promotion at this years annual review - one of only 2 times in the year that anyone is allowed to be promoted, and now you're told you'll have to wait.
It's not like I work for a bank or anything, so I'm pretty sure this is just to piss us off and increase profit margins.

On a cheerier note, I've just discovered Don DeLillo - friend of mine bought me a couple of his books. Reading White Noise at the mo, not got very far yet, but it's pretty good so far.
His writing style is a little like mine, or more accurately, my writing style is a little like his, only he's much better at it than me - with clipped sentences and the like. Not that I write that much like that here, this is just me madly ranting my inane tirade into the void, but I guess everyone needs a hobby.

Living in Oceania

Another day, another living-in-a-police-state incident...

Those of you who don't know, and I don't know who of you don't know or know, or even care come to that, might be interested in knowing that the UK has more CCTV cameras per person than any other country in the world. You can also be held without charge by the police longer than in any other democratic country in the world - and there are a lot of those that aren't very nice to live in. We also have the largest DNA database - mostly populated with the DNA of innocent people who have not been convicted of any crime, and children.

Anyways, back to the point - a 69 year old Austrian tourist was out with his 15 year old son in my part of London, when he was stopped by police who deleted all the photos he'd taken of a bus-stop, as well as taking his passport number and hotel details. According to the officers, it's now illegal to take a picture of anything to do with transport in this country. Perhaps they should have a word with Google street-maps then.
This comes hot the heels of a new law that's just been passed which means you can be arrested for taking a picture of a policeman which gives a hint of sad irony to the following.
During the recent G20 protests, Ian Tomlinson who owned a newspaper stand and was merely passing by on his way home from work collapsed and died of a heart attack. Originally, the police claimed they'd had no dealings with him and where hampered by protesters when they tried to help him. The IPCC (internal affairs type people who investigate police misconduct) said that no CCTV cameras where in the area.
That is until this video was handed to the newspapers showing him being assaulted by a policeman to whom he had his back to (and had his hands in his pockets) just before he collapsed and died. Also handed in to the newspapers, photos of the scene with police controlled CCTV cameras pointing to the place where it happened. There's now a growing collection over at the guardian of the police beating up journalists, women, setting dogs on people etc...
And don't even get me started on arresting opposition politicians for no reason.

Sorry if this is somewhat of a political rant - but sometimes things just piss me off. There's things about my country I love, but there's a growing list of things I don't as we creep slowly but surely from a democracy to a police state. Orwell was right, he just got the year wrong.

Back once again with the ill behaviour...

.. and cheesey 90's dance track lyrics as well.

Sorry I've not written in sooo long, I've been particularly busy at work and all that 'real life' stuff that tends to get in the way.

So happy Easter everyone - not particularly religious myself, but nothing like a good excuse to eat chocolate and have a couple of days off work. It being a bank holiday, Mrs Block has had me wallpapering and clearing out the spare room. Does look pretty now though, so time well spent.
I've also been working on a new short(ish) story I'm thinking about sending off to a competition. If it doesn't win, which is statistically likely, I'll post it in installments here. It's broadly about a guy who looses his job/girlfriend etc.. and ends up living next door to a guy who thinks he's god. Hopefully it will make more sense than it sounds.

Anyways, it being Easter also means we get bombarded with shit TV. 50 channels of 'which-idiot-thought-this-would-make-good-TV?' so far, with the odd sprinkling of the worst of what Hollywood has to offer. Still, there's a Dr Who Easter special on tonight - with Michelle 'bionic woman' Ryan as the new assistant which might be good. Also, Dave (that's the name of the TV channel) have made 3 new episodes of Red Dwarf - one of the best things the BBC ever did in my humble opinion - apart from the last series which was pretty awful.

One of the worst things the BBC ever did is also running at the moment - 'My Life as an Animal'. This 'groundbreaking' show follows 8 volunteers as they live with animals. The last one had some guy living with pigs. This doesn't mean he invites a pig to stay with him at home for a week, oh no. Instead he goes and lives in a pig sty, with a bunch of pigs, 24 hours a day for 4 days, eating what they eat, 'talking' to them in grunts, sleeping with them etc... you get the picture.
Why would anyone want to do this? No bloody idea. Why would anyone want to watch this drivel? Sorry - can't help you there either. Nice to know that my £120 a year for TV licence is being spent well by the 12 year olds that make up the management team there. Well done guys, I can see now why you cut the budget for all the news programmes and generally interesting stuff in order to fund this. Nice one indeed.

Anyways, enough of my rants, here's a pretty picture to calm me down. I took this on holiday a couple of years ago. If anyone can guess the country, you'll get - er well, sod all really, but I'll give you a shout out and a well done.

And I promise to post more often. Honest. Whether you want me to or not - so there.

Tuesday blues and the olympics

I hate Tuesdays. The buzz of the weekend has worn off, and it's miles and miles until the next one. Given that my Monday to Friday is normally pretty shit anyway, and I live only for weekends - this is a depressing day indeed.

The wife is out to dinner tonight in Stratford - no, not the home of William Shakespeare, that's Stratford-on-Avon, a rather quaint 'what all the tourists think the whole of England is like' type place where people talk about the weather, literature, and drink copious amounts of tea. The Stratford my wife's gone to is more a 'this looks just like the set of Blade Runner' type of place, mostly due to the fact that it's where they're building lots of the stuff for the 2012 Olympic games, or as the locals call it, the slums of the future.

Not that I'm against the Olympic games or anything. I'm sure the spending of several billion pounds in the middle of the recession for something that's going to last 2 weeks is a great idea. And of course there's the long-lasting legacy that all the politicians are so keen to remind us of. Though when I last checked, they were thinking of turning the stadium into a warehouse for B&Q (that's like home depot for all my American visitors). The problem they have is that no one wants to buy a giant stadium capable of holding a squillion people. The nearest football team is Leyton Orient, whose average attendance is around 5000 - so enough to almost fill one side. Somehow I don't see them as a being all that keen in taking it over.

At least it'll showcase British engineering and building skills - it will be a proud day for us all when they finally declare it open in 2013. And don't even get me started on the logo. Described mostly as 'man on toilet' or 'Simpsons blowjob'

Anyways, Masterchef is on TV now, and Horizon is on after that - they're talking about nuclear fusion today, and why despite the odd headline and lots of money and time on research, we still don't have one powering our flying cars we were all promised 20 years ago.

Oh well..

Quote for today:

'inspiration comes after the first line'

Love day and flash mob that wasn't

As those of you who read here will know, Friday 13th was the date of the much anticipated zombie flash mob at London Bridge train station in London. The plan as I heard it was that as the clock flicked over to 19:00 - the 500 or so people confirmed to take part would start dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller.
I was there, the wife was there, I persuaded a couple of friends to be there, waiting by the clock with camera in hand for the zombie fest to kick off. With 5 minutes to go, I took a couple of snaps of the extra police that'd been brought in:

5 minutes later and the clock flicked over to 19:00 - and nothing happened. Well, when I say nothing, it wasn't actually nothing, me, along with the whole bunch of other people who'd gathered to watch all looked disappointed. About 5 minutes later, these guys showed up:

And that was it. 500 'confirmed' - about 6 turned up. Unlike the onlookers and photographers who'd made a far greater effort:

along with the folks who work at the station who'd drafted in extra staff and had been having contingency meetings for 2 days in case things got out of hand with too many zombies.

All in all - a bit shit really. As i exclaimed in the car park - 'I travelled for 45 minutes on the tube for THIS!'

If the person or persons who organised the event are reading this - you're crap. Really crap, I mean totally "couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery" crap. This event wasn't just poor, it was butt-clenchingly piss poor.

Tossers

Anyways, Hope you all had a good love day on Saturday. I got the wife some roses and a card - she read me some poetry and made me breakfast in bed. All very romantic.

We then went out with some friends to the great Vinopolis where we drank lots of wine, followed by the old favourite of "cooking-whilst-pissed" which turned out a lot better than you'd think.

My wife's souffles are amazing.

No video today - but you do get a quote:

'Behind every successful man stands a surprised mother-in-law'

Paris Hilton in search of a stalker

Whilst flicking through TV channels last night, I caught the end of possibly the worst TV show ever. 'Paris Hilton's British Best Friend' - or to give it it's full title 'I want to be Paris Hilton's bitch'.

Thanks a bunch America, no really. First George Bush and now this? What are you feeding your kids, lead paint and mercury?

The show seems to be all about a bunch of sycophants in an ass-kissing contest, the prize being you get to be friends with Paris Hilton. Not really my cup of tea, but I guess some people are just plane nuts. I can already guess at the sort of events they're going to have, like 'how many Chihuahuas can you stuff in a Prada handbag'.

In a bid to find out what sort of folks go for this, I've managed to find some of the questions used by the researchers for the show to find the candidates with the 'right stuff', or in the words of Homer Simpson (no relation to Jessica) 'I'll kiss your butt and still call it ice-cream'.

Anyways, here they are:

Who should win the 2008 best acting Oscar?
a) Heath Ledger for ‘Batman – the Dark Knight’
b) Kate Winslet for 'crying at the golden globes'
c) Paris Hilton for ‘The Hottie and the Nottie’

How did Barrack Obama win the 2008 presidential campaign?
a) With a well thought out grass-roots campaign on the key issues facing the American public
b) Paris Hilton publicly backed him
c) Barrack who?

After a night out partying, you’re driving home and accidentally hit a parked car. A policeman spots you and asks you to pull over. Do you
a) Pull over calmly; perhaps he won’t notice you’ve downed 8 cans of RICH preseco.
b) Tell him you’ll do anything, no really, ANYTHING if he keeps it between the 2 of you.
c) Claim your assistant hadn’t told you it was illegal to drink and drive, start an online petition in a vain attempt to keep your ass out of jail and scream that it’s ‘not right!’ before finding God.

After meeting that ‘special guy’ at a party, he comes back to your hotel room and asks to spend the night. What should you do?
a) Tell him that you’re not a one-night-stand kind of girl and that if he really likes you he’ll respect that and take things slowly
b) Tell him he can stay but only if he wears a condom
c) Break out the night vision camcorder and ride him like a pony, claiming that the tape was subsequently ‘stolen’ and it’s only by coincidence that it’s been released on the net 1 week before your new series starts.

How did you score?
Mostly A’s – You’re a well balanced individual. What the hell are you doing here?
Mostly B’s – You’re a slut and have the intelligence of a chimp. Well done, keep honing those skills and there might be a place for you yet.

Mostly C’s – Congratulations! You’re a moron with no grasp on reality who thinks the world revolves around small dogs in handbags, perfume endorsements and drunken sex in hotel rooms. Now ask someone how to work a telephone and give us a call!

Today I am mostly watching wierd kids doing freaky things with their eye-brows in order to advertise chocolate. My favourite bits the baloon at the end.

Friday friday friday!

Ah joy, the weekend once more. My boss is on holiday as well, so I get to do very little today. Bliss.
I'm also in a good mood today, as I won the 'spot the ciggy packets' competition over at the Patsy Log, and won a dedication of this truly moving performance. of 'Arms wide open'. Cheers Babe.

Anyways, had lots of family come to see me this week, which means my Father is currently staying for what he claims is a week (very long story) - so not been writing as much as I'd like. Still, I'm here now, and wanted to to talk for a moment about award ceremonies. Not the kids-sports-day type thing, but the actors golden-statues-of-various-things type thing.
They had Kate bloody Winslet on TV again last night. I liked her when she was nobody, but now she's all wailing on at award ceremonies proving she can't act that well without a script.
I mean, if these things mean so much to them, why are the ones that loose all smiles and have that 'Ah, well' look that I'm pretty sure they practice in the mirror for an hour before they head out? Just once I'd like to see someone go crazy because they didn't win, like Joey in that episode of friends a million years ago that my wife made me watch (honest).
Personally I think it would be great if Angelina Jolie went postal screaming 'That's Mine you whore! I'm gonna fuck that bitch up' before smashing a bottle of cristal over her managers head.
That's entertainment.

Today I am mostly listening to KT Tunstall doing some amazing things with a loop pedal:

Dogs are from Venus

Ok, so I know I said I'd finish my short story and post it, but I haven't edited it yet, so you'll just have to wait. Sorry, awfully bad of me, spent yesterday running followed by drinking wine and watching TV (re-run of war of the worlds - the Tom "jump up and down on a sofa" Cruise one) instead of writing.

I must say, it's one of the better sci-fi Hollywood remake offerings. My wife thinks it's scary - she's got some sort of alien invasion phobia - which I tell her is pretty weird but it still puts the willies up her. I mean, planet earth has been around for about 4 billion years (unless you're a creationist nutter in which case it's only been around 6000 years, but then the bible doesn't mention aliens so this sort of thing won't bother you anyway). And in that time, there is pretty much zero evidence of aliens ever trying to invade. As the average human life-span is around 70-80 years, you'd have to be pretty unfortunate to be around if/when they do invade.

My wife - an ex-scientist - did find comfort in the fact that they all die from bacterial infections, which she pointed out would actually happen if they where organic. - sigh

Don't get me wrong, I think that there is life out there in the great cosmos, maybe even intelligent life somewhere, but I think the chances of them coming to visit us is pretty remote. For a start, the amount of effort involved to travel here would be pretty immense. Why would they bother? I know the KFC party bucket meal is good value and everything, but is it really worth the trip out?

Some people just don't take this as a reasonable answer though. Some people think they've been abducted by aliens and had probes inserted into various orifices - but some people will think anything.

I think it's telling that in the 70's we got the odd hazy picture of what looked like the lid off a washing up liquid bottle, and lots of eye-witness accounts of grey men with big eyes - but these days when pretty much everyone in the western world carries either a camera or a phone with a camera, no-ones ever been able to get a picture of one of the little buggers.

Anyways, ran 6.1 miles yesterday, so very proud of that; even if I can't feel my legs today and my knees no longer bend. Got the day off work tomorrow as well - Whooha!

I'll leave you with a quote today, rather than inflicting you once more with my questionable taste in music:

'Friends are God's apology for relations.'

I see dead people [instructions...]

Tuesday already. It's been a while since my last post - just like at school - 'must try harder'.

It's not all my fault I hasten to add, had an old friend over at the weekend, and we had a lot of drinking to do. It's hard work, but we make it look easy. Not that I spent the weekend pissed mind you, I actually did some clever type stuff by going to a few talks, one of which was by Ben Goldacre - a columnist for the Guardian newspaper and a very funny man. He was talking about science reporting in the media (as he does on his blog) and about how 80% of it is just made up crap, usually sponsored by some company trying to sell you something, and copy-pasted straight out of a press release.

Anyways, I was having a read on his blog when a story about seeing dead people caught my eye. This story has had quite a bit of media coverage over here, and was printed in the Express (a large national paper) amongst others. It's basically this: If you drink coffee, you will see dead people.

Now I know what you're saying, 'I drink coffee, and I don't see dead people'. Well, you're obviously not drinking enough coffee are you. Whole story is here.

It's a big day today for all our American cousins over there today. You get a shiny new president to replace the broken one you've had for the last 8 years. Apparently the new guy is much better, he can count to 10 on his own and can even feed and dress himself, so there's an improvement straight away.

I remember a while ago, just after the last election when 'W' got in, again, and I was talking to this American women who'd voted for him. She couldn't understand why everyone else in the world didn't think that was the best of choices. I remember her saying 'he's a very clever man you know'. Well he's certainly hidden it well.

As for the new guy, well, I think people are going to be disappointed when it turns out he can't walk on water or turn grass into marijuana or anything. I think he's a vast improvement and will have a positive effect on the US and the rest of the world, but it's going to be a series a small steps rather than a revolutionary leap.

Which brings us nicely on to white supremacists. They arrested a guy just after Obama won the election for plotting to assassinate him. These white supremacist types really should take a good look at themselves - this guy lived in a trailer with no job, no money, and couldn't even spell 'assassinate', thinking that there's not a problem in the world that can't be solved by guns or god. You'd think it would occur to him that if there is a master race, he's clearly not in it.

Anyways all you lucky people in blog blog land, to celebrate a new El Presidente, today you get a quote, and a song:

Quote of the day: 'It's a recession when your neighbour loses his job; it's a depression when you lose yours.'

Old but still good:

Ninja kittens of death

I was flicking through the TV guide yesterday, when I came across this little gem of a film tucked into the afternoon schedule:
Murder Without Conviction: 'Drama in which a former nun becomes embroiled in a murder mystery surrounding twin savant brothers who are serving life sentences for killing their mother.'
I'm sure this sort of thing happens every day.

The big question here is not who comes up with this shit, but who decides it would make a great film and pours money into it. I mean, surely at some point, someone who works on these films must say - 'hang on a minute, this is total crap' But then again, I guess they're getting paid.
This got me thinking about some other daytime made-for-TV gems, like this one:

Fatal Error: 'When a computer virus evolves into a deadly organic killer strand and a series of deaths occur, two scientists have to team up to prevent it spreading across Seattle. Can they stop the cyber-plague?'
Can they explain how a computer program manages to crawl out of the monitor in some 'Ring' type episode and starts killing people? I bet all the computers make weird beeping noises like they do in CSI.

And who can forget-
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians: I shit you not. This classic from 1964 is described as: 'The parents of Martian children decide to kidnap Santa after watching him on TV in order to make their children happy.' And believe it or not, this wasn't done as a comedy.

It's films like these that make me realise that no matter how bad I think my writing is, no matter how wooden the dialogue, or how ridiculous the plot line, someone somewhere is prepared to make a movie out of it. I mean, who can forget Tombraider 2? That alone should give hope to bad writers everywhere.

Today I am mostly listening to this:



They're much better live than the TV prog they did - in my opinion anyway.

Black day

Today is a black day - a day where nothing I do seems to matter, a day where I sit under a crushing black cloud that squeezes everything out of me. It's days like this that make you forget your dreams and dwell on your fears.

I can't wait for the weekend and it's only Wednesday. At weekends I get to do stuff with the wife. I get to go into London and do cool things, I get to stay in bed if I want and worry about nothing. In the week I sit alone and wonder why I'm still doing this shit job.

I saw a poster on the tube the other day that said 'if you don't like your life you can change it'. Maybe I should make more of an effort to change the shit things in mine.

I think I need to get writing more, get a novel finished and go see if anyone will buy it. I can sit in Starbucks most days then and just write shit down. Now that's a job.

Sorry to be on a downer today, but mid-week is never a good time for me.

'Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.'

Scratch scratch scratch

Me and scratchy (my pen) have been busy. Me and scratchy have finished chapter 11. Onwards and upwards to chapter 13 (ch 12 is a long story).

Just been watching Something For The Weekend (foody type TV show in the UK). They had an old clip of Keith Floyd in Madrid eating carbs and wrong fish. Now I don't know whether this is just Floyd, but according to him, the Spaniards spend most of the morning eating aforementioned carbs and wrong fish whilst getting slowly pissed before passing out and calling it a siesta. When they wake up, they just eat and drink some more before it's time to throw up and go to sleep.
That Floyd guy must have a liver the size of a small car, and I should move to Spain.
And is it just me, or does Mel B not look anything like Mel B anymore?

Anyways, thanks to Ksquared for the half-ass line. I'll get to work as soon as I get back from shopping.
I hate shopping in London. It's just so damn busy. There's a credit crunch on people, you're not supposed to be spending money! What's with everyone heading into town on a Saturday and wondering mindlessly in zig zags across the pavement before stopping for no apparent reason. It's like Day of the Dead out there people, Day of the fucking Dead.
And as for tourists, don't even get me started. The London underground is a mode of public transport to get people from one place to another, it is not a tourist attraction! You're not supposed to stop at the entrance to the platform, thereby blocking everyone else, so you can take a picture of the tunnel. I mean, come on, it is quite literally a hole in the fucking ground.
And why, despite the signs every 10 feet on the escalator telling folks to stand on the right, do they feel the urge to stand on the left?
There's a solution here involving cattle prods.

Thanks to Amanda for the 'encouraging' words about non-smoking. What the hell is an electric cigarette? Maybe it's because I'm a guy, but you add electricity to something and it just gets 10 times better. Now you're telling me they make electric cigarettes? That's just another reason not to quit - where do I get me one of those?

And the quote from yesterday about moving a body is attributed to Alexei Sayle. He's a slightly surreal British comedian who never used to be very funny, though he has got better with age. Well, that's my opinion anyway.

Wednesday - already?

Just been out for another run, and Christ it's cold. I know some of you probably live places were it gets to minus 80 and if you go outside for 4 seconds you get frostbite, but here in the UK we're used to it being being grey and mediocre 90% of the year, with a few days of sun in summer and if we're lucky a few days of snow in winter. Minus 10 it was last night, Minus 10!

Anyways, enough of being typically English and talking about the weather.
Today is turning out to be yet another boring day at work in my boring job with my control freak of a boss. Every week I have to fill in a time report that says what I worked on and for how long, and every week my boss calls me up and says:
'Hey, you put down 3 hours last Wednesday for (insert project here), what were you doing?'
and I say: 'I worked on (insert project here) for 3 hours?'

I mean, what do they expect me to say? Why am I spending 2 hours every week filling in these things if they're just going to ring me and ask anyway? Next time I'll tell them I was drinking lighter fluid or something.

Sadly this is typical of who I work for. Why do something easy when you can make it far more complicated, involve far more people, and make it take twice as long? I really need to get writing more and get something published so I can give up on this torrent of mediocrity I call a job.

Sorry, I'm in a bit of a ranting mood today. I'm never happy when I get back from a run. Someone told me endorphins are supposed to kick in after running, I guess mine are broke or something.
So here's a nice picture to make up for it that I took on holiday last year. I'll give a gold star to anyone who can guess the country.

And I'll leave you with a quote of the day:

'If you can keep your head while all those around you are losing theirs, perhaps you do not understand the situation'

Back to the grind stone

Well, Christmas is over, I'm half a stone heavier, and it's my first day back at work. Oh the fucking joy. What's more, it's appraisal season at work, which means I have to fill in a million forms saying how great (or otherwise) I am at just about every aspect of my job so my boss can tell me if they agree or not.
On a lighter note, it snowed last night. I like the snow, I know lots of people don't - they moan about the driving or whatever, but being a non-driver, and not having to leave the house unless I want to, I think it's pretty nice. Makes everything look clean and pretty for a while, even though as with all things that are clean and pretty, it soon turns to slush.
I managed to get out for a run today. I only did 3 miles before turning grey and wanting to puke - though I have had man flu, and as we all know, it takes almost 2 months to get over that. Also, I've still not stopped smoking, even though I said I would in the new year. Though to be fair, I've only had 1 ciggy today, which makes me practically a non-smoker.
Thanks to the folks who commented on my short story (below). As soon as I write something interesting I'll post that too so people can congratulate/ridicule me as they see fit.
I really need to add some pics to this blog to brighten it up a bit, I'll see what I can do over the next couple of days.

Oh, and Matt Smith is the new Dr Who. I mention this as I've met him - which from now on will be my claim to fame. He was a very nice chap indeed.