Get To The Back Of The Line Scum!!!

Welcome back my swashbuckling shipmates to another edition on the high seas of my psyche, battling the armadas of the stupid, insane and downright odd segments of society. After last week’s Christmas edition I have decided to keep this post topical. I will tell you about an experience I have endured this very week whilst negotiating through the festive period, enjoy...

My alarm didn’t sound, not a great start. I removed my nice warm duvet and headed towards the bathroom to freshen up. It is still dark outside but the early ornithological wildlife is informing all who are awake that the sun is on its way. I creep slowly back towards my bedroom to get an adequate amount of clothing on before I leave the house. My sister’s boyfriend also overslept but stirred at around the same time I did and we rendezvoused downstairs ready to leave. My sister, who had a fair amount of festive wine the night before was still asleep nursing a severe case of Christmas hangover. The day was Boxing Day, the time was 5:30am and the destination Steve and I were heading was the Broadfields Retail Park, where Next were putting on their yearly sale. The opening time was 6:00am and as we knew from last year’s experience, the earlier you get there, the better for the queuing.

I elected to drive in the Delorian with Steve riding shotgun. We pull up at 5:40am and notice the distinct lack of spaces already in the car park. I parked as close as possible before vacating. Unfortunately for Steve I parked too close to the van on my left leaving him no chance of opening the door on his side, but with the Queue already massive he decided to climb out of my side. The problem there is that he used my handbrake as leverage and took it off without realising. The Delorian was headed for the vehicle parked in front in a slow manner but it took us both a while to notice before I screamed “The handbrake is off!!” in a high pitched girly voice. Luckily the accident was averted and we straightened it out before contact was made with the car in front – panic over. Now it was time to stand in a line and wait for our opportunity to cash in on the savings.

Sure enough 6:00am rolled on and the first people, who must have waited there overnight, were allowed into the retail outlet. The line moved substantially for the first few minutes as we went from half-way along the fence next to the retail park, to three units from the store we were waiting patiently to enter. The time went on through till 6:30am before we moved again. Obviously after the initial onslaught the store had a one in/one out policy due to health and safety restrictions. Steadily over the course of an hour we found ourselves within spitting distance from the store. As we queued, there was a slightly entertaining couple who thought they could turn up late and blend in to the front of the line. These people were clearly morons who thought we had come down with yesterday’s rain. They tried again and again to join the line at different distances from the store, whereby each time they were greeted with, “get to the back of the line scum!!!” If they had known how long the rest of us had queued for they surely needn’t have bothered considering none of us were in a charitable mood.

Finally we were part of the front of the queue, eagerly anticipating what lay behind the automatic doors of wonder. As we took our first steps into the store we were handed a clear plastic bag each with handles. They were around the same size as bin liners and just as heavy duty. We raced upstairs to the men’s section to see what bargains were lying in wait. Astonishingly the larger/taller gentleman’s variety were in good supply as I started filling my bin liner with all kinds of goodies, all the while knocking people left and right in order to gain prime spot in the areas of interest. It was like the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan in the men’s section. Bodies flying, limbs blown off and dog tags being removed for the deceased families...strong stuff. Mercifully, the carnage subsided long enough for me to find some real bargains; a few nice shirts, jeans that fit me and smart casual tops. Steve and I congregated at the tills and another long wait ensued before we paid for our loot. We left the store after I set the alarms off with one of my still-tagged purchases at around the 8:00am mark, whereby we swiftly bought a nice McDonalds breakfast and set off on our voyage home.

In summary it is hard to put into words how my experience on Boxing Day felt. You simply wouldn’t understand unless you were involved. Like Vietnam – You weren’t there man!!   

Yuletide Special - Merry Christmas Boys And Girls!!!

Welcome back my friends to another edition of saturated satire. Immerse yourself in a world of twisted and soul-starved collections of words formed into sentences that verge on the ridiculous. This week’s fermented turd offering is a Yuletide special, stuffing the proverbial turkey butthole of your intellect and destroying the blanket-covered pig of your senses. Let the festivities begin...

When this time of year comes around many of us feel a sense of tradition and nostalgia towards the festive period. The retro Christmas anthems are uncovered from the cd collection, the dust is blown off the case and the speakers belt out a well known track from Christmas past. The traditional dead bird is in the freezer ready to be thawed, stuffed with a seasoned bread-based mush and cremated in a fan assisted oven for what seems like a lifetime. The kids of the world collectively wake up at 3:30am and venture towards the foot of their bed to see if Santa has left a stash of loot in their stocking. Mums fuss over dinner, dads make sure that the house is at the correct temperature by adjusting the thermostat accordingly and the children contemplate ruining their dinner by eying up the mountain of chocolate that they received from various relatives.

I for one love Christmas. It is the one time of year that I can relax and know that no matter how much I eat or drink I won’t feel guilty for the pleasure. It is Christmas after all. I also love the traditions and rituals that occur at this time of year; the big decorated green tree in the front room, the hanging up of Christmas cards around the house to show how popular we are and the giving/receiving of presents to loved ones. The main part of Christmas day I enjoy is the dinner. The roast potatoes, the turkey, the pigs in blankets, the stuffing, the gravy and the vegetables. I also love the pulling of crackers at the start of the meal. The anticipation of what is inside is overwhelming, but it usually is a miniature deck of cards or a cup with a ball on a string. Don’t get me wrong they both sound like hours of fun, but probably not what I was imagining to be inside. You also get a superb joke in many crackers along with a fine hand-made paper hat with a lucky dip choice of colours.

Some don’t stick to these awesome traditions. Some take it upon themselves to veer away from the normal and do something different for the big day. These people are at the cutting edge of holiday celebration, but I pity these people in a way. My sister and her man, for instance, decided to open all of their presents on Christmas Eve last year. I couldn’t believe what they were doing as I sat there watching them destroy a whole year of waiting the day before. Do they have no self control? It was only another 12 or so hours that they had to wait. The thing that got to me most was the fact that they felt as if they hadn’t done anything wrong. What they did was like purposefully avoiding the outcome of a TV show because you missed it and have it taped ready for your next free moment. Then on your way home to watch it reading the entire story before get through the front door. It’s madness!! Why buy Christmas presents for each other if you’re not going to open them on Christmas day? You might as well call them “the day before Christmas presents.”

Oh well, the day is nearly upon us and soon we will be getting ready for another year. It is scary how quickly the last decade came and went. We are already two years into this decade. Soon we will be welcoming in 2012 and making promises to ourselves in the forms of resolutions, only to break them in a moment of weakness within three or four days. Time to wrap this up now so may I take this opportunity to say to all of my readers have a fantastic Christmas and thank you for all of the great comments about my blog. It is because of this superb feedback that I am still writing these posts weekly and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Thanks again.

Gareth xxx

The Christmas Shopping Special Needs Group

Welcome back to another edition of observational garbage. It has often occurred to me that these weekly posts may be influencing your judgement when considering similar situations in life. For that I apologise and in no way am I here to develop an army of supergareths whose prime objective is to rid the world of its Doritos supply orally, consciously flip off BMW drivers or actively encourage procrastination. This would be a tragic and bleak future in which no one will entertain the idea of being a part of, but if I have been an inspiration in some form through this blog you will need to consult your local GP regarding medication. This week is all about Christmas shopping and the way that it changes our persona and mentality, enjoy...

Some people have been doing their Christmas shopping for a good two weeks now so many are either nearing the end of their list or finished and preparing to wrap the goodies. These people are the Christmas shopping intermediates that are undoubtedly well organised and have two weeks to concentrate on the big day with regards to the dinner preparations and seeing the majority of their family. Some do their Christmas shopping throughout the year. These people are true Christmas shopping professionals who prepare months in advance knowing that December will involve just adding the last couple of presents to the list, then concentrating on making sure their house has more decorations than the neighbouring cribs.

I don’t fall into either of those categories; far from it I’m afraid. I have literally done no Christmas shopping whatsoever. The category that I fall into is the Christmas shopping special needs group. We are the type of people who laugh at other shoppers rushing around filling their baskets and trolleys while we relax and take it easy. We don’t do lists, we have no idea what to get anybody and we only start to shop when we realise that Christmas day is a few days away. We special needs shoppers work better under pressure. Usually my presents are wrapped on the 23^rd or 24^th of December and look like they are from six different people as I use the leftovers from the rest of the family’s rolls of wrapping paper.

I love the customers that come into the store I work at and take one look at the queue, scrunch their faces up and walk straight back out again. Seriously, what do you expect?  It’s Christmas!!! Everyone has the same damn idea you have; “I know, I will go to the shop that is usually quite busy at the time I want to make a purchase and nobody will be there.” Really? Really?!! Normal down to Earth people expect to be waiting that little bit longer for service at this time of year. It has to be predicted that there will be a lift in footfall across the retail business over the festive period. Surely when you walk into a shop that is known for its popularity at any other time of the year you would understand that maybe the volume of customers will be at its peak. Some who are put off by the length of the queue are reassured by shop floor staff that the wait will not exceed five minutes and wait in line. Sure enough the service is swift and the customer is served within the quoted time. Others choose not to believe the staff and put the product down before exiting in a huff, as if they are the only ones in a rush. Each to their own but in my opinion some people need to develop a little perspective.

More and more people are choosing to make their purchases online nowadays. It is inevitable that soon this method will take over as the top choice for consumers. It is a very modern way to do things but there will always be a market for in store purchases, especially at this time of year. By now it is probably too late to source items from websites before the big day. Next week will be the week where people start to panic and need an item quickly. Unfortunately for some the products may be out of stock due to the popularity of the product. This is where the real spirit of Christmas is revealed when fully grown adults start to have juvenile tantrums in the middle of a store demanding to see a manager. “Where is the... (Fill in your product)?  I need it for Christmas!! You are completely unprofessional no wonder your going out of business!!!” Blah blah blah. Given the chance (and this is strictly off the record) I would reply, “I do apologise sir. We had over 1000 copies of that particular product last week. You had ample opportunity to buy it but you decided to come in a few days before Christmas when the product is least likely to be in stock. Please do not shout at my staff as they aren’t paid enough to take your bullshit. Perhaps a rethink in your Christmas shopping strategy is needed as you are currently a Christmas shopping special needs person. Please go forth and multiply.”

Thanks for reading peeps, remember my Kitty blog – www.clawsofsteel.blogspot.com

Pass Out In A Puddle Of Sick

Welcome back one and all to this week’s instalment of trivial tosh. Enjoy the next few paragraphs delving the depths of my grey matter searching for anything that sounds remotely relevant or makes sense. This week’s random attack on the establishment is all about alcoholic beverages and the surrounding culture that is attached to the consumption of them.

The reputation of the “drinking culture” in the UK is very unfair in my opinion. Most hardworking, honest people like to let their hair down when the time will allow and hit the town centre for a night of socialising and having a laugh with friends. More often than not there will be consumption of alcohol with many drinks being purchased through the night. We do this for a lot of good reasons; one main reason being the crushing inevitability of returning to work in 48 hours or so and alcohol is a good way of taking your mind off it. I think that a small minority of people go out just to get paraletic and pass out in a puddle of sick. These are the images that we see on the TV when a special news report on binge drinking in urban areas is aired, so the whole alcohol culture gets a bad reputation because of a mindless few.

Don’t get me wrong, the mindless few have it right in my opinion. It would be the height of hypocrisy if I condemned actions that I have indeed been guilty of.  If your sole aim when you go out on a messy evening is to drink until you have the balance and co-ordination of a four month old baby, then I applaud you for your dedication to the cause. Think about it for a second with me. We are actually doing the economy a massive favour by blowing our money on alcoholic drinks every time we get a chance. The taxes on drinks are the highest ever so we are contributing to the country’s financial stability and helping the UK post-recession. Alcohol also helps people to come out of their shells socially too. I will be willing to bet everything I have on the fact that most of you readers were conceived as a direct result of Dutch courage. That’s all I will say on that matter because I’m sure the thought of your parents…let’s move on.

Drinking is a great ice breaker for many socially awkward situations, e.g.; first dates, dinner parties, dogging etc. Moderation is the key though when getting shitfaced. Know your limits otherwise you could end up on the wrong side of the law. There is no glory in spending the night in a cell, nor is there any dignity when you get released and have to walk home with soiled, ripped clothes on in the morning. I think we all have woken up in the morning and felt like a grand piano has been dropped on our head due to excessive volumes of alcohol. I for one hate that feeling and promise myself every time that I would never get like that again, although inevitably, I will. Back when I was in my early 20’s an evening’s drinking would have been seen as a failure if I didn’t wake up with a random object in my bed and no idea the chain of events that led to reason why it was there. Memorably I have woken up next to traffic cones, shopping trollies, billboard signs, tree branches and an assorted collection of Volkswagen badges from the front of Golfs and Polos – you know who you are!!!  

Sadly all good things do eventually come to an end and nowadays I have just as much fun in a horizontal position eating cheese balls and watching TV of an evening. Occasionally I will roll back the years and have a messy one with the lads but only when we have organised it around our lives that have taken different directions and developed different responsibilities. Drinking is still the best way to forget the last week of crushing mediocrity and for that reason I am totally in favour of the next generation of 18 – 21 year olds filling their boots and experiencing the world of one night stands, skinny-dipping in duck ponds, trespassing on building sites and shitting in somebody’s front garden. All of these great moments would not have been possible without a good liver bashing from time to time. Thanks for reading and remember my other blog if you can’t wait till next Wednesday for this one - http://clawsofsteel.blogspot.com/2011/12/kitty-slickers-2-meow-it-all-began.html

You Wouldn't Give A Reacharound To A Koala Bear

Welcome back peeps to another edition of dissection and reflection on societies failures. We all have our grudges to bear; some of us just get on with it and refuse to let it bother them. Others choose to let them fester inside their heads and let out their frustrations in one foul swoop. Some gradually exorcise these demons by tackling them head on at every turn. My way of shipping these ill feelings is to write them down in a document at my laptop every Wednesday and release them on an unsuspecting public. This is a very British thing to do. Us Brits like to avoid physical violence and confrontation, so when we get annoyed we tend to write a stern letter hoping that it will be read by the right people. This is virtually the same thing except I don’t expect anything to change; just having regular folk agreeing with my views is enough for me. This week will be all about piracy and the issues around the subject.

When the subject of piracy arises around me my mind wonders into a magical world of swashbuckling adventures, sword fighting and treasure. I instantly think of Pirates of the Caribbean’s Captain Jack Sparrow or One Eyed Willy from The Goonies.  I then try to join in the conversation and the subject is completely different. The argument has nothing to do with sea faring captains or drinking rum with shipmates, far from it. Piracy in our society is far more common and easily done. I am talking of course about the music and film business. I will have to tread carefully on this subject as I am close to the industry through my job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have an honest opinion on the subject. We have all put a DVD on and skipped through the adverts in an attempt to get to the main menu. We all then have to endure a 30 second guilt trip informing us that piracy is a crime and we all should be purchasing our media in a legal manner. You’ve all seen it; “You wouldn’t steal a handbag, you wouldn’t steal a car, you wouldn’t piss on a disabled person, you wouldn’t give a reacharound to a koala bear.” These examples are all unthinkable to a normal, honest person. Except maybe the last one – purely for experimental reasons.

Do the film and music industries really believe that downloading media that someone has shared online is as bad as the aforementioned? It surely has to be put into perspective. I think that there are varying levels of piracy and distinguishing between them has to be done using common sense. If you go to a dodgy market and pick up the latest cinema release from someone who is clearly trying to make a quick buck from exploiting the movie industry then you surely are as bad as the man selling the dodgy copy and you both are committing a crime, fair enough. If you start a website where you get money from sponsorship whilst providing free music and movie downloads to opportunistic people then you deserve the book thrown in your trajectory. Here is the grey area in my mind though. Should you be made to feel like a criminal for doing something that pretty much everyone else who owns a computer has done? Is it still wrong if the masses do it? I am not saying that I do it nor am I saying that I have ever done it but it does raise a valid question. I use a legal streaming software site for all of my audio media. It is a very useful tool to see what new music is available and is great for trying music before you purchase it. I pay to use it monthly and it is approved by the record labels that it promotes.

I get the fact that piracy is rife in our society but putting that 30 second clip on a DVD is just a waste of time in my opinion. For one; I have just purchased the DVD by conventional means so you’re preaching to the wrong person. I’m not going to by a pirate DVD straight after the one I’m watching just because it didn’t warn me. What it is hoping to gain by telling ME that piracy is a crime? I just bought the damn thing; I’m not the one you should be after. Imagine you get arrested for illegally purchasing a pirated movie. You get six months in prison, shortened to two pending good behaviour. You are sitting around a table at lunch with some hardened criminals and the conversation is initiated about the reason you are all doing time. One says that he raped a prostitute then killed her, the other is in there for shooting a policeman in an armed robbery and the third is locked up for smuggling heroin into the country. They turn to you and you reply, “I bought Twilight: New Moon from a dodgy market dealer and I watched it and there were heads in the way, so I went back to complain and got arrested.” You will be bent over more times in those two months than a Chilean miner.

I think there are more honest folk out there who download illegally than dishonest folk who steal DVD’s and CD’s from the shelves of stores. Is there really a difference in the two? In my opinion there is. When someone steals from a store they look other people in the eyes when they do it. They make it personal to the company that they steal from and, in turn show no humanity or compassion. When someone clicks a mouse a few times and suddenly has media shared online, it is still wrong but slightly more accepted in today’s society. If you saw someone stealing in a grocery store, there is an overwhelming majority of you that would speak up against that individual compared to if you were sat next to someone showing you their collection of pirate DVD’s. Therefore I conclude that, while piracy is wrong and illegal, it still is accepted by most as inevitable and not seen as seriously as physical theft.

Sorry for the blatant disregard of comedy in this post, I got caught up in the seriousness of the issue. The podcast is becoming a real possibility. PH and I are hoping to get the ball rolling sometime before Christmas, I will keep you posted.

Special Guest Post: P.H. - "Have You Read My Blog?"

Welcome back friends to a very special one off edition of my blog. A guest post from an avid disciple of mine who feels partially responsible for my weekly instalments of fertilizer. We are colleagues and friends who bounce ideas and banter off each other at any given moment. I must warn you that he is a psychiatrist type of person so most of this will be nonsense but I’m guessing that you are used to that otherwise why are you here? Introducing P.H. my budding sidekick…

Guest Post From P.H. – “Have You Read My Blog?”

Down in the basement of a well-known retail store in Aylesbury is a stock room affectionately known to all who work there as, “The Bat Cave”. If you dial 226 from the front of store phone to check on stock supplies your call will be answered with the words, “Bat Cave....” It was the Bat Cave where this blog was born. Not that the first words were committed to digital paper there, just that like many more before it, Captains Blog 1984 was born there as an idea. Now I don't know whether this particular room happens to sit on an intersection of lay-lines or if it was built on an Indian burial ground that somehow gives it special qualities but it's fair to say that as an environment conducive to generating ideas, the Bat Cave has an above average hit rate. The difficulty can be though that in the best interests of the majority of people, at least some of these ideas will hopefully never see the light of day. But from time to time thanks to the above average hit rate just mentioned, out of the ether does arise the occasional gem. This blog being one of them! But of course I don’t think it would be fair to say that the environment there is solely responsible for the creation of these ideas. There is at least one added ingredient that I think contributes largely to this phenomena and that is one of the Bat Cave’s most frequent of residents; Gareth Goodchild. I am not Gareth. This week he has made room for a guest post, (whilst he no doubt sits down to a meeting with his feline companion to discuss next weeks ‘Cat diaries’) by myself, someone I am pretty sure he considers to be (at best) his ‘sidekick’ in his vision of his future online endeavours.

As the person in charge of preventing loss within the store, much of Gareth’s time is spent looking busy in the stock room. I should know, much of my time has been spent looking busy making it appear clean and tidy. As people come and go from the Bat Cave all day long you'll likely catch a conversation on your way in or out; a way to revolutionise shopping on the Internet, a forth coming block buster novel or the developing ideas of a zombie stage musical are all highlights worth mentioning. But there are times where a more accurate image of the conversation is that of sitting in a juggernaut with Gareth at the wheel whilst he purposely sets you on a collision course with all manner of socially edgy destinations. Your job then is to grab the wheel and steer both yourself and Gareth back to safety whilst keeping him entertained enough for him to allow that to happen. It's my perception that giving him the space to drive to the edge of oblivion every now and then is like opening a release valve so that his 'special' ideas don't end up on this blog. You’re welcome. I do admire his commitment to his ideas though; it took him all but one evening to follow through on his idea to start this site. One thing concerns me though. Having grabbed the wheel enough times I've developed immunity to pretty much anything Gareth says or does, but in the case of his blog, I find my mind being moulded and primed in surprising ways. I haven't looked at a BMW driver the same since post number four, I dislike The Only Way Is Essex even more than I already did and frankly, I want a cat.

I'd be interested to hear what everyone else has to say about Captains Blog - When do you read it? On your way to work? At work? When Gareth has asked you for the twentieth time, have you read my blog!? We had a new Christmas temp start with us the other day and I swear she’d been in the building for less than half an hour before I caught Gareth ‘casually’ dropping his blog into conversation. I don’t blame him really. Personally, I read it half asleep at 6:15 on a Thursday morning before my mind has a chance to defend itself, which is almost definitely why I’ve been so susceptible to its influence. What about you?

Not The Typical Grammer Of Benefit Cheats

Welcome back my avid readers to another edition of absent grey mattered madness. This week is a very special week in the history of CB1984, for this week I will be posting two entries. One (this one) will be a regular ranted attack on the establishment a la Gareth, the other will be a one off special guest post from my soon to be podcast partner P.H. He will be hopefully explaining the part he has played on the creative side of my mediation to you, my public. Have a read of it as he has stated to me that it will be the only time he will interrupt the regular blog, but felt he had to introduce himself before he is heard on the podcast – still in the development stage. Let’s get on with the reason why you are all here, my rants. The category this week is fashion and popular culture. This is a broad spectrum of stuff to talk about but I will give it a go.

Fashion is a steaming pile of shit. End of that category. Seriously though, why are so many people obsessed with looking like everyone else? For that matter, why are so many people obsessed with being an individual and not conforming to the masses? Both sides of the argument are wasting too much time with looking the way they are that they are missing the big picture; who bloody cares? For instance, a certain type of person will dress up specifically to look intimidating to others. They wear hoodies and baseball caps whilst hanging around in packs outside fast food restaurants shouting “bruv” and “sick.” Give me my machete and a dozen black sacks, I have an idea. Although they look intolerably stupid and wasteful of their time, they are after all just kids underneath and probably don’t really have anywhere else to go. It’s the ones that do the same thing and are around my age that I detest more than anything. There are many places to go for people in their mid to late twenties that don’t involve looking and acting like a total social reject. Pubs were built for this very purpose so stop cluttering up my town centre with your attitudes and loudness. Get drunk and pass out somewhere, at least you’ll be quiet.

Fashion is just another way of pigeonholing people into categories. I thought that once you left school and became an adult you would leave that superficial and pretentious world behind. I look out onto the high street and shopping centres and all I see are people still trying to fit in with the way they look. Whilst we are on the subject of pretentiousness in popular culture, I have to put in this story that happened to one of my friends. He was working for a nice tidy restaurant as a waiter some years back and was serving a well-spoken family who were out for a nice meal. When it came to serving the wine he poured a dash of wine and waited for approval before the distribution to the other glasses. About five minutes passed before the lead male of the table called him over and demanded a fresh bottle because the one he served tasted off according to his wife. My friend was quite annoyed with this but took the bottle, went away and came back with exactly the same bottle with the same wine in it. The man’s wife tasted and nodded her pompous approval and my friend left the table. This story tells me two things. One is that some people obviously are just out there to show off and make people look small. The other is that my mate is a genius.

In end we all are just improvising and haven’t got a clue why we are here and what we should be doing. Everybody is playing a massive guessing game if you look at it like I do. How do we know how to act or what is the right thing to do? I will tell you what we shouldn’t be doing and that’s segregating people because of how they look. Find out if they are a nob head first then segregate them from your groups. In many ways I admire community street drinkers. They just get drunk and don’t care how they look…or smell. I salute these people, from a distance of course. The only worry for a community street drinker is the risk of spilling their extra strength lager whilst chasing a pigeon or squirrel.

Another part of popular culture is the absolutely shameless act of benefit cheating. “Oh no, the money is drying up. We had better have another baby.” *NOT THE TYPICAL GRAMMER OF BENEFIT CHEATS*.  I feel like my tax money is being pissed up the proverbial wall. I think the government should ask each and every tax payer what public service or economic growth they would like to put their tax money behind each month. At least that way I will know for sure that these pathetic people won’t see a penny from me. I have an idea, and before you start the witch hunt believing me to be the next mass genocide idealist, it’s only a thought. I think that these benefit cheats and layabouts who earn more money on their arses than if they were to go into full time employment, should all voluntarily walk to their nearest LIDL or Aldi with a full petrol canister and collectively remove themselves from the gene pool. I think this would solve a lot of the economic problems that blight our position in the world financial table.

Thanks for reading my friends. Keep your ears to the ground about the podcast, it is definitely something we are serious about and it would be good to get feedback on it.

The Importance Of Being Idle

Welcome back my loyal readers for some more light hearted dollops of comedy slush. I’m here to distract you for a few paragraphs from the crushing inevitability of your own eventual deaths. This week I am going to analyse something that I have been guilty of on more than one occasion, the subject is procrastination. To procrastinate – to delay ones task or put off something one should be doing. Alternatively in my case – to watch TV or browse the internet instead of writing my blog or novel.

I believe that there are two sides to every story. We have to be motivated to do anything in life, you can’t just wake up one morning and suddenly you’re a changed person. My motivation to go to work, for instance, is the prospect of eviction and financial ruin. I don’t have the luxury of millions of inherited pounds to fall back on so I just get on with it. All of my daily goals require motivation, it’s in my nature to put off less important things and prioritise the more vital things, like breathing and scratching an itchy area of skin. The putting off of some tasks can be misconstrued as laziness. Shame on all who dare to call it that. It takes a hell of a lot more of an effort to have something in the back of your mind and ignore it than to actually do something about it. Imagine a world where we all did everything on time and to the best of our ability. There would be no praise for improvement and no surprises or appreciation. Just ruthless precision and constantly boring efficiency. In short, we would be the German national football team of the 80’s and 90’s.

It is our basic human right to procrastinate, but there is a time and a place. If you consistently procrastinated at work you would eventually be fired, or if you kept putting off the housework or washing up you would feel the stiletto up your ass. If I’m lying on the sofa and there is a lawn to be mowed, the more attractive option is to keep lying on the sofa. If I’m in bed watching repeats of Top Gear on Dave and I need to take a pee, I wouldn’t go straight away. I would put it off until my bladder starts hurting or the adverts come on, whichever comes first. Personally, I don’t see how anyone develops the motivation to do anything on their day off work. It’s such a great period of time where I get to choose what I want to do, usually not a lot. Today, for instance, I have barely managed an acceptable combination of clothes to wear in case there is a knock at the door. It has been a relatively good day off, plenty of rest and relaxation and lots of me time. It has been just me and the cat chilling together.

I think that if most people made a bucket list they wouldn’t get round to doing most of the things on the list. I know for a fact that if I wrote; paragliding, white water rafting, swimming with dolphins or make a porno, I would only half-heartedly attempt one of those things. I just need a camera, a group of promiscuous teenagers and a white water rafting instructor.

I must now take a step away from defending procrastination and look at the alternative; getting things out of the way and moving on. I do like to see results of my labour, which is why I usually fail in attempts to lose weight or get fit. I like instant rewards for hard work but that isn’t possible on the weight loss subject. It is a lifestyle, a gradual change that the body makes over a long period of consistently keeping to a regime. It is a mind-set that is really hard to stick to in this day and age. Everything is instant. If you click on something on your laptop, it opens instantly. If you order a cod and chips at the local chip shop, it comes within a few minutes. We are used to things just coming to us and not having to wait.

We all have varying degrees of motivational issues, I just happen to be a professional at leaving it till the last minute. This very blog was meant to go out hours ago, but I keep getting up to make cups of tea and do anything else. This is why I have arrived at this subject, although it was suggested to me by someone who was being ironic. Well I feel like I have won because I have stretched it over five paragraphs and made a post out of it – victory for irony. Speaking of which, I must do my ironing at some point. Meh, it can wait.

There is a special treat for all you blog readers next week so make sure you keep up to date. Plus there is a podcast in the pipeline. I will keep you posted and thanks for reading.

Speak English You Pair Of Idiots!!!

Welcome back friends and settle down for a few paragraphs of silver tongued madness. This week I will be talking about reality TV shows. I have a few opinions about reality TV shows that I want to share with you, but some are too explicit to write on here as my mum and grandma read this blog. Furthermore I am proud to say that the colourful language I usually use with regularity rarely makes it onto my blog, although this weeks’ subject is the most difficult one for me to express myself on without the use of non-dictionary vocabulary. I apologise now if you are easily offended, this one may be a bit harsh on the eyes.

Let us start with the first reality TV show that took the nation by storm: Big Brother. Twelve borderline retarded Neanderthal-like “people” looking for their 15 minutes of fame before disappearing into a world of scraping the bottom of the Z list barrel for parts in pantomimes or Christmas light openings in small villages. I have been guilty of watching this show but never of actually voting or giving a toss about the outcome. I only watch for the occasions where the editors miss the censoring and a naughty word pops out pre-watershed. That to me is hilarious but, to a parent who has to explain the meaning of the word to their minor, probably inappropriate. I think I’m not alone when I say that the whole show would be a lot more exciting if you threw a couple of crocodiles or lions into the mix. I don’t want people to get killed, just maimed or emotionally scarred for my entertainment. I think you could combine the ancient Spanish running of the bulls and Big Brother contestants from years past. Get a nice steep high street in a small market town, close all of the shops, place all of the past contestants in the middle and have bulls run at them from all directions, job done.

Let’s move on now because these shows only deserve a paragraph of my attention, nothing more. My next piece of television fertilizer is I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! Or as I like to call it; I’m A Publicity Mercenary…Get Me My Cheque and Exclusive Hello Magazine Interview! What an absolute steaming pile of horse manure this show is. I have to say that before I completely lay into this testicle of a programme, they do raise a lot of money for charity so fair play but that is outweighed by a truly shocking assault on the senses. My eyes burn, my ears get pins and needles, my skin crawls, my nose hairs singe and it leaves a taste in my mouth that resembles excrement (something you wouldn’t be surprised to see one of the “celebrities” eating on a bush tucker trial). The calibre of “celebrity” on the programme is laughable too. “I’m here because I used to wax Mick Jagger’s balls” or “I’m here because I brushed past David Beckham and accused him of rape.” I think that I only managed 38 seconds before I switched channels never to return, mainly because of the presenters; Ant and Dec. Am I the only one who has to put subtitles on whenever they talk? How do these people end up on primetime TV? Speak English you pair of idiots!!!

I am going to make a statement now and it is from the pit of my sole, many of you won’t like it and, in a way, neither do I. Here goes – I like the X-factor (hands on head with shame and disgust). I will tell you what I like then I will tell you the long list of dislikes I have for it as well. The main reasons I like it is because of the entertainment and the business side. I get it in a way that a lot of people don’t. The reason Jedward, Wagner and other freaks stay in for so long is because they generate hate from the nation. To me that is a great way to do business Mr Cowell. Of course you are going to keep them in for as long as possible because they polarise opinion and cause publicity. If the competition had 16 acts that were just good singers and had no personality (Leona Lewis, Shane Ward), it wouldn’t sell half the amount of newspapers and magazines that it does. I will never knock the show for that because it is just good business. As for the entertainment part, the edge that this show has over the previous two I talked about is the fact that the contestants actually do something for your votes. They don’t just argue drunkenly for the camera or eat kangaroo testicles for attention. Sadly, that is where my love affair with X-factor ends and comes crashing to Earth with a thud. The exploitation of adversity they use makes me vomit so much that there isn’t enough volume of food in the world for me to bring up the amount of projectile hatred I have for the shameless emotional back stories of the contestants. Cue sad music, cue slow motion blinking and now bring in the picture of the dead family member…blah blah blah. Just sing for me fatty and I will judge you on that. Oh but look how cute her kids are and they need a mother to provide for them, please Mr Cowell put her through. This is her last chance to make something of herself, she is 85 and she has her whole life ahead of her, don’t ruin her dream Mr Walsh………….Sorry I’m back, I just had the sudden urge to rip my chest hair out and eat it. The public are as much to blame for this as well. It’s in your hands dumbasses so stop complaining when the dwarf hermaphrodite deaf guy gets through to next week instead of the gorgeous fake tanned blonde that is destined for Broadway. As much as people say it is, the show isn’t fixed. OFFCOM regulate it independently, so I doubt a few back handers from Sony Music would be taken instead of keeping their integrity. Wait a minute…

The last show I will be talking about is what I would describe as “everything that is wrong with everything.” No not Justin Bieber, although he is a close second. I am talking about the genital wart production called “The Only Way Is Essex.” I had the misfortune to watch this programme for 10 whole minutes before I decided to leave the room and throw myself off my garage roof. Only a few bruises and scratches, thanks for the concern. I will never get those 10 minutes back that I wasted watching this truly revolting programme. I could have written my whole blog on just this show, it is vulgar and monumentally stupid. Is this what our great grandparents who won two world wars for us intended us to do with our freedom? This Friday is D-day. A time to reflect and a time to remember the people that lost their lives defending our way of life and our country. How do you explain The Only Way Is Essex to those brave men and women? It makes me ashamed to be British. The amount of whale blubber alone used to form some of those faces on the show is enough to extinct the entire planet’s supply. Do people seriously need to put that much make-up and fake tan on? I heard that the “actors” work from a script. Excuse me whilst I laugh so hard that my kidneys drop out. A script? Really? Really? Brilliant. I take it all back; the talent on display is amazing. It’s like a really well acted version of Hollyoaks. My sister watches The Only Way Is Essex so it is on or Sky planner as series linked. A little bit of sick comes up whenever I skip past it to watch Two and a Half Men. She said she watches it because it’s so bad that it’s good. Probably a fair point, but not enough to get me to watch it. Certainly not enough for me to tolerate it when she is watching it.

In summary reality TV is rubbish, but still as popular as ever so I guess I will have to grit my teeth and get on with it. Thanks for reading.

Integrated Orange Socks or Personal Dog Fetcher

Welcome back friends to another edition of my thoughts. I am currently getting used to my new iPad 2 that I have recently acquired and, I have to say, it's pretty impressive. I usually write my blog posts on my laptop but I'm giving my new toy a go for this one so there may be some grammar or spelling issues, bear with me I'm still learning.

The technology available to us these days is astonishing. Even something as simple as turning a light switch on can be done without even leaving the buttock crevices of your sofa. I like to think that I am up to date with all of the technology on offer but, alarmingly I am so far behind that it's scary. I hear people talking about megapixels and gigabytes and I look like I understand, but I really have no idea what they do and how they improve my life. I can tell you the basics, like megapixels are something to do with cameras and pictures and gigabytes are something to do with memory storage on media devices, but that is pretty much it. Jargon gets in the way of my general understanding of electronically powered devices. This is a big revelation from someone who works for a company that sells Beats by Dre headphones and Archos 10" tablets, but it is really easy to sell a product to a customer that is on the same level as you are. I don't fill their heads with technical jargon and long words that don't appear in the dictionary. All I say is "this is better than this because..." and they appreciate the simplicity of my sales pitch when I say "it has more memory storage" or "you get what you pay for." Ok so it is a bit more in-depth than that, but you get the idea.

Technology move on so fast and leaves a lot of people behind. I feel sorry for the older generations who had to come to terms with replacing VHS with DVD. Even DVD is gradually being edged out by Blu-ray and digital media. CD is losing the battle with mp3 storage devices too. It was only 20 or so years ago that cassettes were still in circulation and CD was an up and coming alternative. I’m starting to feel like the older generations now. I say things like “in my day” even though I am the right side of 30. Ten years ago my mobile phone was a BT-Cellnet brick. Five years on my phone was a Samsung D900. It was a little bit smaller with a camera and mp3 player plonked in it. It's 2011 and I am still one handset behind everyone else with regards to the iPhone. While everyone else is gallivanting around with face time and night vision compatible iPhone 4's, I have the less popular older brother in the iPhone 3GS. In purchasing the iPad 2 through my work's salary sacrifice scheme, I am now bang up to date. Although even with this new touch screen thingy I still feel as if I'm behind some people knowledge-wise. When I tell someone that I have an iPad 2 they start using fancy acronyms like IOS and PDF. For all I know they could stand for “integrated orange socks” or “Personal Dog Fetcher.” Clearly nonsensical drivel but it got me thinking that you could theoretically invent any device and name it what you want. For instance I could invent a product that could butter your toast exactly how you like it and give it the acronym “DTBTFYBYATLTDIY” translated as “Device That Butters Toast For You Because You Are Too Lazy To Do It Yourself.” Hardly a commercial title but you can see my point.

Maybe I am being too pedantic about the whole subject. Maybe it is easy to learn jargon words and how to use/maintain certain products. I am just one of those people that turn things on without knowing how they work. I have no idea how the TV remote makes the volume louder and softer, changes the channel or picks a colour when I’m playing Bamboozle on teletext. All I know is the term used is infer-red, everything else is just smoke and mirrors for all I know. If the world ended tomorrow and I am the last human alive, I would have no idea what to do if my dishwasher breaks down or the boiler packs up. I guess that would be the least of my problems in a post-apocalyptic world so swings and roundabouts. If an advanced race of intergalactic travellers were to visit our planet, I would hope that they didn’t choose my back garden to land in. I could tell them last week’s football results or how I like my steak done, but I would come unstuck if they asked me any intelligent questions about astronavigation or engineering. You may as well be asking a blind person what the clouds look like.

Thanks for reading.

Playing Snake On My Nokia 3210

Welcome back friends. This week I am going to talk about something that gets up everyone’s nose; public transport. I rarely use buses or trains anymore, mainly due to the fact that most things for me are walking distance away. Anything else I can usually get to in my DeLorean, eventually. It seems now more than ever people are cycling and walking to destinations instead of using public transport. To the naked eye that would seem like the healthier option has been chosen, but I like to scratch beneath the surface on these issues. My take on it is that most people don’t trust the punctuality of buses or trains in the outer city areas. In London the only way to get about is via public transport. The underground is packed at peak times and the buses always look full. This is mainly because getting about in London, although quite entertaining to the passengers, is a challenge to even the most experienced driver. The congestion charge doesn’t help, but I can definitely see why it is in use.

Here in the Home Counties it is a far different story. Many snub the use of these services due to the percentage of the time that they are late to a destination. You can’t blame the service if there is a traffic jam or an old dear is taking their time at a zebra crossing, these can’t be helped. What can be helped is the amount of vehicles used at peak times and the regularity of them. Obviously this is a budget issue to which I know nothing about and won’t even entertain the idea of arguing. It’s just frustrating for the consumer when they are sitting at a station or bus stop for double the amount of time they expect to. In Japan they have The Shinkansen, or the bullet train. A superb piece of engineering that has been in operation since 1964.Tests as far back as 2003 have shown that these trains can reach well over 300mph. That is nearly eight years of known technology at the world’s fingertips and we have only just started the ball rolling on a London – Birmingham line for trains that can go 200mph. Since its inception The Shinkansen has never been late to a destination. Furthermore they are usually on-time to the nearest 10 seconds. That is incredible in my opinion, especially when you can be sitting at platform 3 in Harrow on the Hill and time the next train to the nearest 10 minutes.

Ok I will stop complaining about punctuality and move on to other reasons why so many of us are choosing other methods of travel. When I was at college I would regularly get the bus from the stop a couple of hundred yards from my house in order to get there. I would sit at the bus stop for X amount of minutes whilst playing snake on my Nokia 3210. The bus would pull up and I would board and pay before sitting in a seat next to a window. The bus would begin moving and, every so often, would stop to let people off/ let people board. With the time being between 08:30 and 09:30 there would be a lot of passengers so usually the bus was almost full. We would get to the stop where the nutters would be waiting and my heart would skip a beat. There would usually be three or four of them and, as the bus was nearly full, they would shuffle for a seat. The seat next to me was usually not taken because I would stretch out due to the lack of leg room. You can guess what happens next. One of them spies the vacant seat and, without asking or gesturing, plonks his weird ass on said seat. I look the other way towards the window pretending not to notice or care. Suddenly the bloke starts to whistle, no real cause for concern. He then starts erratically moving from side to side, knocking me into the window. I turn to him and ask him to stop, but to him it sounded like I wanted to be friends for the remainder of the journey. He kept coming out with random comments like, “I like potatoes,” and “My toast is burnt.” To which I would nod and turn away again. Eventually we would get to the bus station and I would quickly jump off and start briskly walking to college.

My point is that there is no segregation on public transport. I just want to get from A to B without fear of sitting next to someone I would consciously cross the road to avoid. I know that if I were to get on a bus in my home town now, the nutter to normal ratio would be far greater than back then. There are a lot of smelly people on buses as well. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for people that sit next to me to not bathe in their own urine. I just don’t want the hassle of it so I choose to drive or walk. If I had to decide between a taxi and a bus I would pay the extra to sit on my own and be dropped off at my front door.

Nevertheless I do think that public transport is vital in urban areas and I would use it if my options were limited. I just wish that they were a more attractive option.

Thanks for reading…

Bonus Blog: Addiction To An Institution

Welcome back my friends to a special edition of my blog site. I this issue I will be addressing an unbelievably huge part of my life, and so many others. Something that has been at the very core of our personalities and achievements down the years. An institution that has taken many hours of joy and pain from my dearest friends and I for so long. This blog coincides with the release of that very special friend of mine’s year 2012 edition. I am talking, of course, about Football Manager 2012.

Let me take you back to a time where everything seemed so simple. I had a Sega Master System while my friends had Mega Drives. Move on a couple of years and I had a PS1 while some had Nintendo 64’s. In truth I was always one step behind in the console game. Not that I cared much about this too much, in fact it made the time playing on them more special and helped me to appreciate the moments of technologically based fun. I remember one sunny afternoon, around a friend’s house (Joe Munt), I was introduced to a game that brought sheer joy to me in the small time I was afforded to play it. The game was Championship Manager 2, the old school version of today’s international sensation. The makers were Eidos, a small British based software company established in 1990. From the moment I made my first signing for Northampton Town, bringing Ali Gibb to the club on a permanent deal from Norwich after a successful loan spell, I was hooked. I can’t begin to tell you the rush that you get when a player you have signed scores his first goal. It is still a buzz even now, in a time when you can fine your players for misconduct or tell the media that you dislike the opposition manager.

It was not at Joe’s house that my addiction started though, far from it. I had no PC when I was a nipper but just around the corner from my house were two absolute legends in the making. Long Meadow was a vast road that separated the Bedgrove Road from the Paddock. The road stretched for hundreds of yards, but at the Camborne Avenue end lived a very special family – the Goodins. Five (soon to be six) of the most legendary people you are ever likely to meet. The two sons of John and Anita were Luke and Ellis, one is currently stateside chasing the American Dream and the other is one of the key players in FC Unique’s title challenge of 2011/12 season. Both had to put up with a persistent Championship Manager “junkie” that lurked round the corner from their home. That addict was me. I would knock on the door every day like clockwork to get my “fix” of the fictional management world. I would invite them out to play football, but eventually we would end up at the computer screen typing in MSDOS the keywords cd/cm9798 and loading up one of our many saved games.

There were many unfortunate incidents that plighted our gaming experiences and caused many arguments among the three of us. Like accidently clicking cancel when Luke was about to sign Juninho for Man Utd. An incident that threatened our very friendship, and is probably still not forgiven to this day. The Guttuso method was forged on one game where you could theoretically sign any player you wished if you offered them a month-to-month contract. The season where Luke was cheating to sign players for nothing and it slipped me by for several months before I realised his budget did not deviate nor did his balance. Luke would click through many pages without reading each screen, while Ellis would take so long it was home time before we got to the first game. There were so many great memories as well. The main one being the season Luke and I both reached the Champions League final. He beat me 2-0 but the journeys we both undertook to get there were memorable.

There have been many players of note throughout the years of playing the game that are worth a mention; Martin Palermo, Javier Saviola, Francesco Viveros, Roberto Donadoni, Dougie Freedman, Lewis Buxton, Ibrahima Bakayoko, Robert Pires, Christian Vieri, Vladimir Beschastnykh, Karl-Heinz Riedel, Lars Ricken, Davor Suker to name but a few. There are so many more that brought enjoyment and pleasure to the world of Championship/Football Manager.

What new players will capture our imaginations this year as we progress through the 2012 season and beyond? What torturous pain will we have to endure in order to achieve true greatness in this truly perfect management simulation? Only time will tell my friends, a lot of time. In fact let’s not lie to ourselves, any free time we get will be spent at our laptops and PC’s dedicated to the one, the only Football Manager. Let the addiction re-ignite. Thanks for reading.

Ten Of Your Best Penny Chews Please!

Welcome back friends. This week I’m going to talk about jobs and professions. I’m a security officer at a well known retail chain. Most of you know this and a few of you don’t. I am happy to have a job in this current financial climate and I will never complain about it, even though I know I am capable of much greater feats. I enjoy the majority of what I do without ever really feeling ecstatic about my day’s work. To me it is a job – do as I’m told, give it 110% and never complain unless warranted.

The end of the month is supposed to be a joyous time, where my bank account bulges with earned currency from the previous month. It’s supposed to take me back to a time where I have a bit of pocket money from completing my chores to go to the sweet shop with and ask the nice man behind the counter, "Ten of your best penny chews please!". Unfortunately the reality of the situation is more like walking several miles to a well with a rusty bucket, filling said bucket to capacity with sweet, nourishing drinking water, then returning home and finding the bucket virtually empty due to a sizeable hole at the base of it. I look forward to pay day every month, it is like a mini-Christmas, but when it is time to unwrap the metaphorical presents there are just socks and pants inside. Rent, phone bill, loan repayments, credit cards and other financial leaches suddenly come to life. They chase me down a cul-de-sac where, eventually I turn to face them and hand over the money I worked so hard to never see. With what little left I cling on to I decide to blow on boozy nights I won’t remember, petrol for my unquenchably thirsty car and junk food that just goes straight through me.

I have never really cared about what people do for a living. If I meet someone new and they tell me their job title I instantly forget. Not because I am ignorant or disinterested, but because I have no real need to know this information from someone I have just met. There are so many people who are judgemental when they first meet someone that I think it really shouldn’t matter. If someone told me that they are a traffic warden or a banker I wouldn’t care. I would make uncomfortable jokes and sideways digs at them but I wouldn’t judge them on how they make money. They are paying their taxes and national insurance like everyone else in the working class. I have been guilty of taking the piss when I hear people say job titles that are ridiculous or unusual, this is what you have to expect from me I’m afraid, but I would want to get to know the real you before I decide not to like you.

Some people say “you are your job.” This may be true if you are a doctor or a celebrity, but not if you are a bus conductor or a car park attendant. Never feel like someone is better than you because they are doing something more worthwhile. I believe we all are useful in our own way. For instance, who would my sisters shout at if I wasn’t here to annoy them? Who would impatient people push past in the street if I wasn’t barged out of the way? Who would be started on by a drunken man as a result of clumsily knocking his pint out of his hand in the local bar? I am here to take that burden away from people, ergo I am a worthwhile citizen of this Earth.

I also don’t care about how much more people make than me. Money is a wonderful thing to have if you respect the power it has over you. I believe that when I eventually do make the sort of money that would give me financial comfort, I will appreciate it more due to the situations I have been in as a direct result of my past immature approach to money. If you tell me your salary I will be interested to hear it, but not particularly excited for you unless, in some way, that money is coming my way.

Well time for me to wrap this up, thanks for reading. Look out for a bonus blog this Friday!!!

If You Throw Enough Shit Then Some Will Stick

Welcome back friends and settle in for a few paragraphs of me. As I said last week I will be attacking random categories of people and this week I have chosen one close to my heart. I would like to call to the stand – the modern day footballer. It was bound to happen in one of my blogs and I guess this one is as good as any. For those of you who don’t watch football, there are still issues that may have made you angry in the past so let’s hope I cover those.

When I say the word “football” to anybody it brings a different reaction every time. I look at this subject as someone on the inside looking out, but I see professional football totally differently. The media give football this dark and seedy look most of the time, with stories of adultery, corruption and misbehaviour. I will never accept that all professionals act the same way and so I will not generalise the sport. In fact it is only the small minority that bring the reputation down. One does wonder in the back of their head how they would react to suddenly being thrust into the limelight with sponsorship deals, interviews, ridiculous sums of money, women throwing themselves at you and paparazzi eager to buy stories about you from anyone that brushes past you. I would like to believe that I wouldn’t be so stupid as to wrap a Bentley around a lamp post due to the 150mph I was doing previously round a sharp corner. I would like to think I am not so idiotic that I would rent a hotel room out and wake up in the morning surrounded by white powder and hookers. I would also like to think that as I am a well paid and respected athlete, I wouldn’t take pictures of my knob and send it to a page 3 girl behind my more attractive wife’s back.

In truth I just don’t know how I would cope with the fame and fortune that comes from being a pro-sportsman. What’s more I can’t really judge from my position the correct way to conduct one’s self in the public eye. That doesn’t mean I can’t shake my head every time I wake up, switch on Sky Sports News before work and hear that another player is in custody under suspicion of rape/battery/being a dick or all of these. I understand that some women lie in order to make a quick quid off the bank account of a rich, young and naive airhead footballer, but if you throw enough shit then some will stick.

I haven’t bought or read a newspaper in over a year and I refuse to. They twist the facts so much to support their own opinions that it’s laughable sometimes. The back pages are filled with constant bandwagon criticism and scandal that I cannot stomach reading any of it. For example if a reporter hears in an interview from a manager of a top club that the ref made the wrong decision. The headline would read, “Manager says death to all referees.” Or if a player says he is flattered by interest from another club the headline would say, “Player is unhappy with life at club and wants to move.”

Another massive issue is the amount that some modern day footballers get paid by their clubs. Some grab as much as £250,000 a week. You don’t need me to tell you that’s a lot of money for one person to possess. I think that most of you will agree with me that these clubs should be giving that money back to the dedicated people that support the team, not spend every last penny pampering their stars. I know it is a cliché but how much do doctors make a week? How much do the brave men and women of our armed forces make risking their lives on the front line in hostile terrains? When you put it into perspective the game has grown beyond any control or boundaries. The issue has festered for far too long for there to be a quick fix, but that doesn’t mean it should be ignored.  

Football is enjoyed throughout all age groups. Some boys and girls as young as three years old start to join local clubs on Saturday mornings and really embrace the spirit of the game. You would like to think that these youngsters have good role models in which to aspire to be. Like I said though, it is a small minority of players and I believe football does far more good than harm in local communities. From day one I loved playing football, in the local paddock where I grew up the field was always occupied with kids playing a game. Football helped me to stay where the drugs and crime weren’t. There were a few groups of kids that got involved in that near where I lived, but I was too busy playing football to ever be tempted by smoking or under-age drinking. It is a shame that some people never got that choice but I did and I’m glad that I chose not to get involved.

I do apologise if you were expecting something funnier, normal service will resume in the next blog, thanks for reading...

Urinate On Your Collective Upholstery

So, you decided to return did you? Well that says a lot more about you than it does me. It tells me that you are amused by my words, agree with my opinions or your bored and are looking to fill a gap between eating and watching TV. Welcome back to all who returned and enjoy the next few paragraphs of mindless fertilizer.

I’m going to be attacking random categories of people in the next few instalments, just so you’re aware. It will mainly be people that you also dislike but not to the extent that you would publish it in a blog. My first “type” of person is the BMW driver. Now, I have friends that drive BMW’s and they are good people with good intentions...I think, but put them behind the wheel of the German engineered death machine and I instantly want to urinate on their collective upholstery. It isn’t so much the car that I dislike, it’s the mindset that the driver has once the ignition is turned on and the handbrake is removed. They instantly believe in their deluded heads that they own the road and no one would dare question the reason why they cut up old people and inexperienced drivers in order to gain a few extra yards on a busy B-road.

I have been driving for 9 months now and, despite a few scrapes with bollards and fences, my car is still getting me around. I can honestly say that at least 80% of my “near misses” have involved BMW drivers. The remaining 20% are probably various vans and Chelsea tractors. 80% is too much to be a coincidence. I accept that most of those incidents may have been my inexperience and lack of road knowledge, but I don’t accept that more often than not on the other end is a suave tosser in a grey suit that some Debenhams sales assistant said was “satin silver,” holding his Blackberry whilst trying to steer and talk on speaker phone, paying zero attention to the Honda Civic Saloon (family air loom) on his left that is trying desperately not to swerve into the curb where an old dear is happily decomposing slowly on a bench.

I have recently been a passenger in a BMW owned by one of my best friends. He took me from my residence to the pub where we watched footy and had a cheeky pint. I have to say the ride is very comfortable and you do feel superior in a strangely British way. You know, the same British superiority feeling that you get when you jump a queue because you know someone, or when you finish mowing the lawn and peer over your neighbour’s fence to see how much nicer your garden looks to theirs. It is that same feeling and I get it, your car is better than mine well done. This doesn’t mean that your car has any more right to the road than mine and it doesn’t mean you can disregard other road users on your relentless mission you seem to be undertaking.

Overtaking is a big issue in my limited experience of driving. Usually my car struggles in the high gears to muster up the speed in which to overtake, but nevertheless I attempt it and usually look a bit of an idiot. If I spend more than 10 minutes behind the same car and it is consistently going 10 miles per hour under the speed limit, I get understandably annoyed. I then proceed in trying to overtake said vehicle at the earliest, safest opportunity. I push my foot closer to the floor, signal with my right indicator to warn other road users I am about to move into the oncoming lane. I get my car up to a decent speed and slowly move up alongside the car in front. It is at that point that I realise I am not driving a Golf GTI or a Subaru Impreza, so my acceleration isn’t quite in the same league. I trundle along trying to overtake but eventually the car alongside me slows down in order to let me pass. Truly embarrassing not only to be involved in but, I’m sure, to watch as well.

I really do love my car to be honest, plus it’s my first car so it will always be special to me. It has character and personality that you just don’t get from newer models. I often joke that my Civic is not an A to B car but more of an A to A and a half. I argue with it a lot as well, the damned thing never does what I tell it to and usually you need to ask it twice whenever accelerating and changing gear. I am nostalgic towards it as well; I named it “The Delorean” after the Back to the Future films. The only reasons I can think of is that the Delorean broke down a lot in the films and If I ever got it up to 88 miles per hour it would probably send me anywhere through time as well. Anyway it’s time for me to end this post so have a good week whatever your doing and thanks for reading...

Territorial Smells and Spare Tyres

I'm here to help, to refresh your browsers with a twisted and alternative view on life. In saying that I will probably do more harm than good, so more fool you for trusting my judgement!! But seriously you should never start a sentence with the word "but," it's bad grammar...hang on, did I just do that? Oh well, don't take my advice. It was a great way to start a sentence. And furthermore, the word "but" isn't as bad as using the word "and" to start a sentence. So take my advice and use the rule of three - never use the words "and" "but" or "so" to start a sentence. It is unprofessional and lazy to try and shoehorn these impostors in to begin any sentence. If you got the above satire then you are obviously good at your English so well done. If you didn't see the in-joke then I'm afraid you have epically failed, but ignorance is bliss so your probably happier than the majority of people, so well done for being a bit slow.

As you have probably gathered I am bored so here is my third installment of Garethism. Enjoy your stay my readers. If you are easily offended then you should probably stop reading, I'm in a ranting mood, which is good news for all of you weirdos who love to laugh at adversity like me. I have just heard the sad news that Arch West, the creator of Doritos, has just died aged 97. I for one wish all the best to his family and friends who must be devastated. I can't help thinking I may have had a hand in his death. I'm not a murderer nor am I saying that I was involved in his passing away. All I am suggesting is that it has been four weeks since I have eaten a packet of crisps (apart from a moment of weakness where I had one of Ellis Goodin's crinkled walkers paprika before our footy game on Sunday, but one crisp is not the end of the world). The guy must have realised that the demand was drying up from the UK and couldn't fulfill his mortgage repayments on his Doritos-shaped mansion. He must have had a broken heart upon hearing his main Doritos "junkie" was in rehab and currently recovering with less fatty products like Snack-a-Jacks.

I have not been on a diet, nor have I been watching my weight, I have just cut out the crisps completely. My eating habits are as erratic as ever. I fill my body to capacity at any time and destroy the nearest toilet when digested. I have to say that since my crisp "fasting" began I have been more active, less bloated and happier with my size. Not that I gave a damn before, in fact my size has never particularly bothered me. I always said to myself "The day that you play football and can't run - stop eating!!!" I have always flirted with the precipice, generally because of my constant binge drinking and kebab consumption antics, but those days are very rare for me now. My room is next door to an early rising three year old, so drinking is shortened to once a month. I am not blaming my nephew for my lack of drinking, far from it. In fact the lad has helped me to be responsible and not treat my home as a hotel. The kebab consumption is even rarer, due to it tasting like garlic sauce covered dog mess and seeing the long-term affects to some "regulars" at the local takeaway, it's amazing how some people can get to the point where they have developed so many spare tyres that they could replace all four wheels on a Nissan Micra.

I have been chatting absolute manure again, I apologise for that. The problem with me is I can't work out some people. They are quite happy to destroy themselves and don't realise the effect it has on other people. Like smelly people for instance. I'm not talking about what your bedroom or your farts smell like - these are territorial smells so you have the right to "mark your territory" I do it a lot myself. Oh, and yes we all fart so get over yourselves and stop complaining when I express myself. The gripe I have is concerning personal hygiene. People who go days without washing, brushing their teeth or changing their clothes. In this day and age, with all of the products on the market - some cheap and affordable, you don't expect there would be people among us who disregard other peoples senses with bad personal hygiene. Yet these people exist, selfishly lifting their arms in people's faces, breathing in close proximity to noses and attracting insects to public places. It is beyond gross, its borderline anti-social behaviour. The government should be handing ASBO's to these people. Rant over...Sorry for the digression, I really have to theme these things, oh well, till next time.

Pull My Finger...You Had To Pull My Finger, Didn't You?

As titles go, sure there are better ones, but none that capture the very essence of Garethism. It describes me and my pull on people. Many know what they are going to receive from me as a person, some don't, but all definitely are intrigued with what will happen when my mouth opens. So they pull the proverbial finger. I say to that one thing, it's your own fault!!!

You have to expect the worst when controversial subjects arise around me, even if I don't mean to offend, I amuse myself by making the atmousphere in the room a little awkward. It's funny...to me. Toes curl and eyes wince, people don't know where to look so they look at me. They look at me to see 1. If its ok to laugh and 2. If I'm feeling as embarrased as they are. In all honesty it should be a no to both. If you laugh I'm afraid you have stooped to my level of immaturity and there is no going back from there. If I look as embarrased as you then it is quite possible I have taken it too far, and in the process I am looking at you, embarrased for you that you haven't changed the subject in time. Number 2 rarely happens, if at all, because I am an honest and open fella who tends to playfully step on toes that are hanging off their metaphorical metatarsals. If there is a situation where the tension needs breaking then I'm your man, not only do I divert all destinations of anger towards me I also produce the perfect remedy to "awkward silences". We have all had them and most people feel really uncomfortable when participating in this expressionless sport. I for one absolutely adore awkward silences, it gives me a enormous sense of superiority and I will tell you why - I have what they call verbal diarrhea, which means I never run out of things to say, in any situation. This makes awkward silences fantastic to participate in. I just sit there and watch as everyone becomes increasingly uncomfortable. I have the power to break the tension any time but the longer the silence goes on the more I enjoy the squirming and fidgeting going on in the room. This may sound cruel to the less evil amongst you but I believe my own entertainment easily out-weighs other's misery. Plus it is only cicumstantial misery, not long term. I suppose if I did it to the same person for a sutained amount of time they may be affected mentally long term so I use this power responsibly.

Anyway, I was talking about the diversion of anger. I believe in the idea that two wrongs do make a right. If somebody says something offensive which they truely didn't mean to cause offence by, I believe they deserve a second chance to take the words they said back and to move on. That is where I believe I can be of use. Instead of them admitting that what they said was bad and as a result they apologise, they should pass the buck onto me. I can immediatey defuse the situation by saying something even more offensive - but funny. If you are going to attempt this technique then know your audience first. It's no good having this fool-proof information if you say it to a ward of sick children or a room of Women's Institute members. This is lost on these people I'm afraid. Try it out on mates first, then mates' girlfriends, then who knows? The world is your oyster.

This blog wasn't meant to be a "useful tips" page but if you can learn something then whats the harm? I think that you should never take yourself too seriously and receive everything in good humour, unless they are trying to physically harm you. You should probably fight back then, if they are smaller than you. If I say something that sounds a bit close to the line it usually is a poor attempt at humour. I try to get a reaction no matter what kind of reaction I get. Either way the bate was taken, any reaction is a good reaction. You could replace the whole 3 paragraphs in any situation with me "breaking wind" and you would get the same reaction. It creates awkward situations, it is bound to make sick children sicker and as for the 2 wrongs bit, if someone guffed it wouldn't be pleasant, but if I squeezed one out immediately after them it would divert the anger to me. Plus I would be very entertained and relieved. See...it works on so many levels. In summary, you know you shouldn't but you can't help but pull my finger.

Thanks for reading...

IBS - Irritable Blog Syndrome

Welcome to my little corner on the net, make yourself at home...

In truth I am struggling to come up with a theme for my blog. Do I talk about my life and experiences? Do I analyse my interests ie; football, eating, drinking and sleeping? Do I address the state of the economy or politics in general? I think I will leave that last subject to the professionals. I honestly don't know at the moment so I will leave it open to anything that pops into my head at the particular time I choose to start typing. In reality this could be very interesting, my head is never scared to spit out what it's thinking. Usually when I speak my mind there are only a couple of people in close proximity, but with this tool of destruction it is set in black and white for the world to read.

I am going to put a very personal piece of work on here as my first entry, a poem to be exact. It was written when I was 14 years old and at school, my teacher at the time believed I should have it published but I was too lazy to do anything about it. The subject matter for the poem was global warming (yawn), but I hope you take the time to read it and let me know what you think.

The Last Chance - Gareth Goodchild

There won't be life to live,

Nor love to give,

As the light begins to fade on human race.

Where is my sanity,

With man's cruel vanity,

Will we vanish without a trace?

The Earth is but a rock,

Another tick, another tock,

As the hands of time edge away life.

At the edge there is a gate,

Opened and it's too late,As nature pierces the land like a knife.

Ignorance is a curse,

Likely to get worse,

It's just a routine consumption each day.

Many don't see the fait,

They will sit and wait,

In the end our grandchildren will pay.

The future is nearly here,

It's a truth we all must fear,

Let's wake up and out of our trance.

A plan is what we need,

One which will succeed,

This really is...The Last Chance.