Belated New Year Bleurgh

So another year is upon on us…. I’ve emerged from the season of prescribed celebrations a somewhat jaded figure this year. Perhaps being on call over the Christmas period didn’t help but the forced aspect of Christmas and New Year celebrations have begun to chafe the soul. I’ve come to realise, perhaps with age, that the best times are the unexpected times. The times where you pick up the phone and get a few pals out for a pint at the last minute. Not the ones which the build up starts four months earlier than necessary. Fucking Christmas starts in September these days! Please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not being a complete miserable jaded bah humbug twat. There are the prescribed occasions which do result in good times. Weddings (provided no punches fly), Stag Dos and Glastonbury spring to mind. People tell me, “It’s cos you aint got kids”. Hmmm, lets think about that shall we. Kids = 10 x more presents = 10 x more expenditure = -10 x visits to local hostelry on account of not trusting glue sniffer to babysit aforementioned kids. Nope. Like a Farepak hamper, I’m not having it.

Something else I’m not having this year and others too it would seem, are New Years resolutions. People seem to have stopped manifesting out of reach goals for themselves. Why wait until Jan 1st to stop smoking/eating/drinking/masterbating/shooting up (delete as applicable). If you’re serious about stopping and you really want to achieve that goal in question do it now. No? Ok then. Wrap it up in a New Years resolution so that come February 1st you can blame not achieving the goal which you secretly didn’t want to achieve on the fact that it was a New Years resolution and that you never see them through. Thats not the only thing which galls me about new years resolutions. They all have a recurrent theme running through them. I’m going to stop smoking, I’m going to stop eating, I’m going to stop dancing when drunk. Me. Me. Me.

Why not make your New Years resolution a charitable one? Help someone less fortunate this year? Send me your money ! Only kidding. Check out www.charitychoice.co.uk and start giving to those less fortunate.

Talking of resolutions. Perhaps I should have one this year. Update this site a little more frequently….

Tis the Season to be Damning

Damn you Microsoft, damn you straight to hell. Damn you Rockstar, damn you straight to hell too. I’ve had the pleasure of a day off work today and rather than do something sensible like a bit of DIY, perhaps put a window in my shed (long story) or take a stroll in the brisk winter air picking up porno mags from railway sidings I happened by the Xbox 360 on button and my copy of Rockstar Table Tennis. Jesus (no blasphemer), it’s a digital version of smack but without the teeth loss, bad skin, and inevitable death.

I picked the game up back in May when it was originally released. At 20 quid, it was incredibly cheap and my Scottish bloodline just couldn’t resist. I played it a little bit on-line and off realised I was remarkably shit at it and lo it came to..erm..rest on the shelf making way for some other graphics over content barrage on the senses.

“Just when I thought that I was out they pull me back in !!” Micheal Coreleone Sullivan Gill

So rather than go out the house today and scare pensioners with a shitty stick I decided to give Table Tennis another go. Not a good decision. I have run the entire gamut of human emotions playing this today. The joypad has been this far from exited via the window countless times. I’ve screamed with joy so much I beginning to sound like my rutting neighbours. I’ve been abusive, dirty (I’ve defecated in my jeans several times rather than make the few steps to the nearest WC), cruel (kicked the cat), suffered immeasurable highs and lows but still I keep going back for more. Hence the smack comparison. However, Pete Doherty, Anthony Kiedis, and Ant and Dec (not yet proven) can go to Rehab for a detox. What can I do…… I need help.
Help.
Me…

For me it’s too late. I am beyond redemption. But for those of you haven’t purchased this or played it. I urge you don’t. Just go see your friendly neighbourhood drug dealer instead. Herion is cool. Haven’t you seen Trainspotting? It looks a right old laugh.

Zante wi’ me Auntie

It wasn’t with my Auntie despite what the above says but it rhymes so I’m having it….. Ahhh Greece at the arse end of August when all the kids are about to bugger off back to school. What better way to say goodbye to the Summer than to plonk yourself by a pool and read countless books whilst burning your skin off for 10 hours of the day. This was the holiday of biographies for me. Three to be exact. The first was John Peel’s brilliant half biography-half auto biography lovingly finished by his wife. The life story of a wonderfully humble, insecure and self effacing man who even at the time of his death still sincerely thought he wasn’t any good at his job or even that popular (!). Here was a man who openly recounted the details of being buggered by a school study monitor in a Shrewsbury toilet at the age of thirteen which such candour and humour (telling his wife aka The Pig years later, he figured she was more upset than him) without being strangely remorseful. An absolute gem of a book. My second biography was Vic Reeves’ slightly off centre tales of childhood and teenage years ending with him heading down the A1 to the big smoke at the age of 20. His vivid childhood memories of marbles, egg theft, (not) getting laid, spacka wagons and pig bollocks is a must read for any bloke who grew up with only 3 to 4 channels on the TV and had to make do with his pushbike and imagination. The third was the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Anthony Kiedis’ memoir, Scar Tissue. What starts off as an entertaining story of a less than ideal drug addled, star mingling childhood soon turns into a laborious I slept with this girl, did this drug, slept with this girl, did this drug cycle of monotony only to pick up once again around the release of Blood Sugar Sex Magic.

It wasn’t all work work work though. I took advantage of the daily boat trips round Zante. The trip stopped off at the “famous” shipwreck, (had it been closer to more hospitable land would have be moved and melted down for scrap a long time ago), was given the chance to swim with the famous Loggerhead “Caretta Caretta” Turtles (a.k.a. World Famous Ghost Turtles as I never saw once never mind swam with one), and eat traditional Greek Souvlaki and chips complete with 90% of the salt from the Aegean Sea. All of this to a brilliant Greek rendition of Axel F on the boat’s 1.1 surround sound system. John Peel would have been proud.

Summer Is Here

Stop the press. It’s official. Summer is here. It’s true that we Brits aren’t blessed with a vast array of weather conditions. Our climate ranges from a bit dull with some rain to dull with no rain to shit the sun is out (lets make the most of it before it goes behind that huge cloud and turns dull again). Imagine I was unlucky enough be in a coma and during that time the worlds governments outlawed calenders (I don’t know why either but stick with me). Provided I didn’t progress to a vegetative state whilst in said coma, I would be hard pressed to tell which season we were currently in. With this in mind, the only way of telling its summer is that the annual idiot parade aka Big Brother has returned to our screens.

This yearly parade of tossbags and wannabes contains several, ahem, “characters”. Amongst others there is

Shabaz, Shabaz, who calls himself a “waki,paki, poof”

Lea, a model / porn star / ex-pie eater with, at size 30M, the largest breasts in britain

Nikki Nikki, an idiot gold digger who can’t drink water unless it’s bottled water.

Bonnie Bonnie, beanflick fixated and can barely pronounce her own name

Pete Pete, tourettes afflicted, rock singer, Frank Spencer on acid, who according to the channel 4 website, “lives in a wall”.

In all honesty the entire house could fold in on itself, like the end of poltergeist as long as Pete survived. The man is a legend already. He needs his own TV show. His audition tape was mental, if a bit like ingesting 100 microdots. I did wonder whether Pete was an actor planted by the show’s producers but based on the evidence at hand I very much doubt it.

Every year I try to avoid the human petri-dish that is Big Brother, but just when I think I’m out they pull me back in. There is one saving grace this summer though. The World Cup. Come on England (or more importantly Rooney)

Drug Trials

I think its fair to say that the recent coverage of the drugs trials show that those ones are not that safe to take….

“Lucky” Raste Khan was one of two volunteers which took a placebo dose. He said that “Some screamed out that their heads felt like they were going to explode”. It has yet to be confirmed whether he stumbled in to audition of a remake of the David Cronenberg 1981 classic Scanners. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not taking the piss but if you partake in a Russian roulette drugs trial then surely you accept the risks that something untoward may happen. Since this has occurred all kinds of stories have surfaced. My favourite has been in the Sun “The head of trainee plumber Ryan Wilson, 21, is three times its normal size and his limbs are purple. Doctors said his chances of survival were slim.”

Fuck off. Three times the size? I’m not having that. Even if it is true, what have the Sun gone and done with their compassionate ways? Called him “Elephant Man” that’s what. Just what you need when you are on your last legs, to be compared to John Merrick.

What this does bring to the fore is the argument for or against testing on animals. I ‘m not for it and I agree that its somewhat cruel to force feed a drug through the eyes of a small lab rat but hey it ain’t me that’s going to end up with a head three times the size of Old Trafford. What’s the alternative? Picture the scene;

Hospital waiting room.

Red eyed lady and stern faced doctor face to face.

“I’m sorry Mrs Smith. We did everything to help him and our last resort was to use TGN1412.”

“Why didn’t it work” Mrs Smith says sobbing uncontrollably

“Well. We only tried it on a loaf of bread and a venus flytrap”

Mrs Smith manages “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh” before collapsing to the ground.

“Nurse. Get the TNG 1412. Maybe this time it’ll work”

Anyways, if the Animal Testing protestors don’t agree they can put themselves forward. I’d like to see the outcome of force feeding Bulghur Wheat cocktails laced with TGN 1412 has on a hippy whilst trying to “help mankind”. [quote Unlucky Drug Taker]

Celebrity Big Brother

The normal Big Brother (if you can call it that) gets my attention. Despite it being shown in the summer when I should be in beer gardens rather than in front of the idiot box, it is mindless TV. The idiots on there make me laugh but why do we allow washed up celebs and D-lists back on to TV in an effort to rejuvinate or in some cases apply the lethal injection to their careers? This is terrible TV of the highest order.

The most amusing thing to come out of this series (I dont watch it honest, I read the BBC news website) is scary fat-lipped scouser Pete Burns. Here are some quotes from the official Dead Or Alive website.

“In many ways Pete is Madonna’s counterpart”

Yeah on account of all the records he’s sold and the fact that he is a worldwide megastar….

“He has gone through a series of successful re-inventions in his long career”

What re-invention is that then? Stuffing his lips so they look like two slugs with high blood pressure?

Well apparently he is looking like being in trouble for wearing a coat made from Gorilla fur. If this turns out to be true they should set a big silverback on him.

Pete Burns Fella
Maybe then he could be forced to “spin right round baby” and be vigoursly entered by said Gorilla. That would teach him. Bummed to death on Live TV. Now that would get me watching it. Are you listening Channel 4?

Interstellar Paul McCartney Transmissions

According to the news today Sir Paul McCartney has performed a live gig for an audience in space. An audience of 2……

Wow. Looks like the millions of dollars NASA have invested in the space program over the years are finally beginning to pay off. What next? Food Network shows on how to cook your next packet of space glob?

This is a foolish move on the behalf of NASA and their Russian counterparts. If there really are life forms out there, and should they have intercepted this transmission, what would they think of Earth? I tell you what they would have thought. “Look at the soft humans. Always singing about frogs. Quick Herzog !! Get the fleshy human destroying gun. The planet is ours”

To avoid such invasions we should be transmitting round the clock loops of Marilyn Manson or Rammstein. That should do. Or go one better. Send ’em up to space. Phil Collins gets my vote. No spacesuit required.

Phil Collins Airbourne Death Pipe

For those of you who don’t know. I’ve just returned from my hols in a sunnier place than home. Certainly sunnier than home at the moment. Ever since getting off the plane nearly 48 hours ago it’s managed to constantly piss it down. Now I fully understand that we are in Autumn but for chrissakes this is taking the piss (or should that be giving it). Anyway, I digress. One of the joys of venturing anywhere further than France in a plane are the joys of in-flight entertainment. Second to the joys of having red hot pokers thrust into your eyes that is. In-flight entertainment generally consists of episodes of The Simpsons which you first saw over 10 years ago, Scooby-Doo, 12 certificate films with all the best bits taken out as to not upset the likkle chillun and DVT exercise videos with Mr Motivator (here’s an idea – take a few more rows of seats out, put the price up by a tenner for the privilege and maybe I wont die of cramp never mind DVT). Well this time for me it was the nadir of in-flight entertainment. A music show was on called Noisebomb or Acoustic Guff or something and as someone who likes his music the show managed to tear me away from mindlessly chewing the seat in front of me. That was until I saw the subject of this show. Phil “Potato Face” Collins, drummer graduate extraordinaire. The show featured clips from his new DVD “Phil Collins – Finally – The First Farewell Tour”. Didn’t quite catch it? Here you are again, “Phil Collins – Finally – The First Farewell Tour”. How arrogant is that? First farewell tour!!! Like anybody wants him to say bye twice? Like anybody wants to see his fat Buster face lolling on top of his snowman body telling us all how he can’t dance and doesn’t require a jacket. I’ve never being a big fan of Phil Collins but obviously some people are. According to the review of some PhiLover on Amazon he “is in good vocal shape, but not as amazing as on the Live And Loose In Paris release from ’97” Nothing is ever loose on Phil Collins. Trust me. Not even a 4 man tent. Maybe I’m being a bit harsh on Bob Hoskin’s stunt double and to be honest it’s more a rant at in flight entertainment than anything else. I mean, does a plane full of Ayia Napa gurners really want to watch Phil Collins? Air companies, please do some demographic studies on your flights before something like this pushes people over the edge and you land with a winged death pipe consisting of 150 slaughtered passengers and crew.

Also Liverpool, Champions of Europe, lost to Crystal Palace in the League Cup. Shame that.
He’s nearly crying…..

p.s. If you’re reading Phil, sorry if I’ve upset you but Dave Grohl is how to graduate from the drums. You wont find him sound tracking Disney movies