Tuesday, 1 December 2009

Childrens Stories 2!

Hi All,

Due to the success of the last one, I have written a new one!

Childrens Stories 2!

Once upon a Tuesday, around 10am, there was a boy called Jack who lived in a council estate in Peckham. His mother didn't work at all and spent all their benefits on Gin. Occasionally on Vodka, but mainly on Gin.

One day she slurred

"Brian, Brian, Come here"

"It's Jack, Mum. I was named after my father"

"I think I know who your Father was, boy"

She sighed, and several of the house plants that were on their last legs dissolved. Even the cat decided he'd had enough and stumbled out of the door

"Listen Brian, errm, Tony? err, Martin, Roy..."


"Jack, I know who your Father was thank you!" She breathed angrily,
"I want you to sell the old rusty Ford Fiesta down the car market"

"Not old Bessy mum?"

"Yes, Bessy. Take her and sell her, I need some more Gin, now piss off"

So Jack grabbed his hoody and got into Bessy. The car wasn't taxed, and he wasn't insured, apparently the insurance companies take a dim view of 12 year olds driving, and off he went.

15 miles away, vertically, the Giant was in "The Grimm brothers brothel and ale house"

"Hey Guys, check this out, a Magic Harp, watch this"

"It's bloody clockwork mate, we saw you wind it up"

"Nah it's not, look it's playing all by itself"

"It's fake mate, this is as bad as that 'Goose that laid golden eggs' you brought in. How you got that much gold leaf up its ass I don't know, and you didn't have to squeeze it that hard either"

"Bugger off then, I'll have a pint of 'Old Beanstalk'"
he said to the barman.

Jack was doing a ton down the M1, the bald tyres screeching down the road. Smoke was pouring out the engine bay, but he had to sell the car. He was listening to some R&B his cousin, or his brother, or one of his many suspected fathers had left in there. All of a sudden there was a flash of blue lights behind him.

"Shit, Police"

Jack floored it but it was at that moment the clutch gave out and the car came to a grinding, rusty, halt in the fast lane (causing all 3 lanes of the M1 to be closed and 13 miles of tailbacks which weren't cleared for another 6 excrutiatingly long hours).

The Police took him down the Nick. They immediately threw the book at him. Banned from driving for 2 months and a £20 fine. Then they crushed Bessie.
Jack was angry. He hadn't managed to sell the car, and all he got was a lousy piece of paper telling him how shit he was at driving. He went home.

"Where's my fucking Gin you useless wanker"
Shouted his mum, killing next doors dog with her alchoholic facial eminations
"I got arrested and they crushed the car"
"Get out of my house!" She screamed

When Jack had come round after his body had recovered from the toxic fumes, he found himself in the garden. He threw his ASBO into the bushes and climbed into his room through the open window and went into a troubled sleep. Little did he know what surprise would await him.

The Giant was well into his cups, the barman had kicked him out and he stumbled back to his castle in the sky. He found the going really difficult, pissed, weighing in at nearly 2 Tonnes, walking on a cloud. He got to his castle and tried to get his keys in the door. He failed. Then he placed a fat digit just underneath the lock and ran the key along his finger. The key went straight in. The giant fell into his castle and into a deep slumber.

Jack(Brian?) woke up very, very early in the afternoon. He looked out of his window and was greated with a magnificent sight. The ASBO must have picked something up at the station, because greeting him was a massive plant, with leaves of a very particular shape. Jack jumped out of his window and climbed up the plant. After just 10 minutes he was really high, but still only 15 feet off the ground. He kept going until he reached the top.
There was cloud as far as he could see apart from this huge castle that seemed to dominate this misty landscape. He ran towards it, then, when he was out of breath, walked towards it. Then he stopped for a bit. Then he carried on.
When he arrived at the castle the door was open. Jack walked around the giant and then stopped. He heard a strange noise. It was like R&B but with an actual tune. He saw the Harp and slipped it out of the Giants pocket. Then he went into the kitchen.

"look at that Goose!" he said to himself, "Think how many turkey twizzlers I could get outta that"

Jack hadn't really attended school much, which explains a lot. He only went to school when he was hungry, which was every Thurday before the benefits were paid in on the Friday.

He grabbed the Goose and ran, kicking the Giant on the way out.

"OI! thats my bloody harp and goose that is!"
The Giant, rather coherently shouted and ran groggily after Jack.

He caught him, took him down to ground level and called the police.

The police were amazing, little more than a week had gone by before they turned up. The Giant handed Jack over to them.

"He bloody burgled me, the little bastard"

"Allegedly, sir, allegedly"

"There's no allegedly about it, I know he's a bastard, have you met his mum?"

The police looked at each other, for slightly longer than either of them were confortable with.

"I bloody watched him burgle me!" the Giant said, getting back to the matter in hand

"Allegedly, sir, allegedly watched him. By the way, where are you from exactly?"

"Up there" said the Giant, pointing upwards.

"And have you got any ID or a British Passport?"

"What? No, course not, I'm a sodding Giant. It's not as if you can miss me is it?"

The police went back to their car and made a call. They came back.

"Excuse me sir, how did you enter the country? Gatwick?"

"No, I climbed down a massive cannabis plant and ended up here"

"There's no need to be like that, sir"

The Giant protested that it was true

"Right that'll do, you are coming with us, section 53 of the being overly sarcastic to a police officer while he is attempting to do his duty....act, law"

2 weeks later Jack and the Giant were at court.

The Judge stood and addressed the crowd:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I hereby declare that Jack (or Tony) is innocent of burglary. As the Giant cannot prove within the laws of physics how, not just himself, but a whole castle, can be held up in the sky by nothing more than a poxy cloud, there cannot physically be any place of residence owned by said Giant that can, in actual fact, be burgled"

The judge took a deep breath in, praying that his next sentance was better punctuated.

"Furthermore, we are going to jail said Giant under the charge of entering the country illegally"
The crowd gasped at this; surely that is a seperate charge and should be dealt with seperately by the immigration officials?

The giant screamed "He nicked my bloody Goose that lays golden eggs!"
"Ah yes," said the Judge "The RSPCA also have an interest in speaking to you, case dismissed"

We return to Jack 5 years later. He is now living in his Mums house on his own. He has done wonders with it. The cat is back and he has new houseplants. He wears a suit most of the time, and he barely has to lift a finger for a generous income. The plant in the garden? Well it got a lot shorter when he wanted an extension on his house and a new BMW.

Thanks for reading,

Monday, 9 November 2009

B&Q: The Dream Catcher

Hi all,

It's getting dark and cold out there now isn't it?

I mean, it's November, the temperature is dropping and we've put the clock back an hour so Scottish farmers can have a lie in. This has always confused me to be honest. The number of farmers is Scotland cannot be that great in comparison to people who work in call centre's in Hull. Why can't Scottish farmers try this:

Get up an hour later! Stop making life a sodding pain every bloody winter!

Anyway, back to the plot.

Because you are indoors a lot more than in the summer months your eyes are drawn to all those little niggly things that get you down about your house. All those bits you had promised your partner you would do about 6 months ago. You know the kind of thing, putting up shelves, changing the cupboard doors, putting the handles on things, washing up, that kind of thing, and in a moment of madness you think to yourself

"Yes, I have become DIY man. I will now achieve in 1 day what it has taken me 6 months to avoid"

A dangerous thought at the best of times.
Now I was sitting in my lounge, because if I sat in the garden I would be cold, and I remembered that my partner had asked for a TV in our bedroom (apparently Most Haunted is more entertaining than me in that respect, I disagree and ask her to put the heating on) so I thought about it for a moment or two and decided the time had come. Armed with nothing but a badly thought out, malformed plan in my mind I headed straight for B&Q.

B&Q is the emporium of badly thought out plans. If you go in there, any day or time of the week during winter, you will see the sight of 100 men, with dreams in their eyes. They walk around with bags of screws, bits of MDF and fibreboard and they all look purposeful. They have a purpose, a plan, and they know exactly how they are going to do it.

I, along with them, carried my timber and MDF and nails knowing exactly how my TV stand for the bedroom was going to go together. It would have made the chippendale brothers weep at the beauty of my construction. The flowing lines, the carefully guilded edging, the way the drawer would open with the slightest whisper, and the contents organised by size and usefulness. The Tv itself would rest on an inlaid circular piece of wood, with grooves cut into it, and bearings, so the TV could be rotated without any physical effort. That was my plan, and you could see it in my eyes along with every other man who had entered the store.

So I got myself back home, and described my plan to my partner with emotion and vigour and how it would be awesomeness personified in wood. She, however, was incredulous.

After 3 hours I had made something that would be accepted by Tate modern as a piece of art, and enough injuries to make a Chippendale weep. I threw it in the garden with the rest of the failed projects, the pizza box fountain, the paper mache newspaper rack and the dreaded kitchen knife dispensor.

My partner was horrified. How could I have done such a thing? So we headed to Ikea, and it was there I had my revelation.

Women, you see, have grandeous ideas. They are just as good as ours, but they do something we don't. They look it up in a fucking catalogue. Us men, we have grandeous ideas too, but in our minds, is not this office dwelling muscleless clueless idiot, but a God of Furniture. A veritable superhero of dovetailing.

What I noticed as we walked around Ikea, was the sad mens faces all lined with the same thought...

I could have made that.

Thanks for reading,

Sunday, 18 October 2009

Those who can, do...

Hi All!

It turns out that chemistry teachers are having to show videos of experiments to students instead of letting them actually do it.
I'm not talking about explosions and stuff but really basic chemistry like putting lithium in water. This is because although all the risk assessments have been done and given to them, teachers do not have the confidence to either perform the experiments themselves, or allow the students to do it.

To this end they even have a sodding helpline for the teachers to ring, probably crying, saying how they just don't understand the experiments and cannot teach the class. Even though, and this is the shocking thing, they have just spent the last 4 years in teacher training camp and the previous 8 years of study to be able to teach.

What is more shocking is that these incompetents are actually allowed to represent the science that they are claiming to be confident enough to be able to teach. I'm sorry, but do fuck off. If I wanted that, I'd bloody teach my kids myself.

It is no wonder to me that kids in this country are not interested in science. If you see a teacher, as a kid, looking nervous and umming and ahhing, and they are supposed to be your mentor, and they are supposed to be teaching you, you would quite honestly say:

"Blow this for a laugh, even my teachers can't do it, and most science is watching some expert from the 60's having all the bloody fun."

I had a great time in science, I had an awesome teacher. He knew what he was doing, he blew shit up, and then taught us how to blow shit up. Then we did the real work. And I tell you something, you show kids the magic, and they will all want to know how you did it. You show kids a video...they kick each other under the desks. I want to see a return of experiments to the classroom, health and safety to sod off, and the return of the apprentice system. Those who can, do. Those who can't, can't possibly teach it.

Thanks for reading

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Kids Stories, so how hard can it be?

Hi All,

I was sat reading some crappy kids stories the other night, when I thought..how difficult can it be to write a story for a 6-9 year old? So, here it is.

There was once a fairy princess.

Her name was Emily.

Well, she wanted to be called Emily, but her real name was Jessica

She had 3 legs, and one arm, which stuck vertically out of her head.

This made it very awkward to get her crown on in the mornings.

One day, she left the Castle in search of the Great Chicken, who had the power of seeing rhubarb at a great distance.

She knew he lived in the forest of Niggy Niggy Noo. Just past the old tree stump. On the A303.

She entered the dark, dank forest. She came out of the forest and went back in again, it was still dark and dank. It was an enchanted forest, that had the ability to induce amnesia in people. The local townsfolk who entered the forest often forgot where they parked.

She crept through the undergrowth. Her dress caught on twigs and brambles and badgers.

After a while she reached the old tree stump. There was a mushroom on it. Suddenly, the mushroom jumped up. It was a magic mushroom. And it said:

"OI! what is a fairy princess doing out here, in a forest, just off the A303?"

"I am a fairy princess," said the fairy princess

The mushroom stared at her. "Really?" it said.

"Yes and I am seeking the Great Chicken, who has the power to see rhubarb at a great distance. Now stop looking at me fungi"

"Blimey," said the magic mushroom, "Well he's over there, but he's asleep"

"Cheers mate" said the fairy princess and off she went. Dragging several bushes and a confused badger behind her.

She saw the Great Chicken. He was lying down, snoring.

"Yoohoo!" Said the fairy princess.

The Chicken didn't move.

"YOOHOO!!!" shouted the fairy princess.

The Chicken didn't move


The chicken jumped up

"Help me wok a noodle!" he screamed.

"terribly sorry old chap" said the fairy princess "But I need to find some rhubarb for tea."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong chicken" said the Chicken, "the one you want is over there, I can't do anything right. I always get everything wrong."

"Fantastic" the fairy princess said. "I've walked all this way and I've found the wrong chicken, and he keeps putting himself down"

So she took the axe from her pocket and chopped his head off.

then she stuck him in the oven for an hour and a bit on gas mark 6. It turned out he was self depricating.

She tore the mushroom from the tree stump. Removed the great chicken out of the oven and ate him with the mushroom, as there was no cutlery available.

She went home to the castle. Smelling of chicken grease and badgers.

If you sniff carefully in a forest, around lunchtime, you can still smell the faint whiff of worried badgers. Often you will also find people who have forgotten where they have parked.

The End.

Thanks for reading

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

My Blog: One year on

Hi All!

My blog is one year old!

So to celebrate and to mock in some fashion all those other blog type, video, tv efforts, I have decided to do some recaps, quotes and outtakes from the last 12 months.
Hope you enjoy them as much as I did writing them.

"...as the human body is 80% water, I can be anywhere between 4'3 and 6'2 depending on where the moon is."

"Now thats the body that I want! I want to look like that, and I'll do the dvd every day for a decade to get it if i have to, if i have to cycle to the moon and back I'll do it" Now I've been doing this
dvd now for fucking months, and i still havent got Davinas tits.

"I wear glasses and I've got a stupid goatee\beard thing going on. I am the geeks geek."

"Luckily we have something in our arsenal that Mexicans do not....Yakult"

"Muslim women don't have to wear that black royal mail letterbox outfit, it's just that they are also highly trained Ninjas"

"I am to biscuit barrels, as Harold Shipman was to old peoples homes."

"T = (Q + A) / B"

"Half the people are average meat, and have no intelligence."

"A guy was released in Hampshire after being wrongfully imprisoned for 27 years...the first show he saw on telly when he came out? You've been Framed"

"Quick tip for you, open your front door, go outside, turn around. See that? See that building? That's your fucking house. It's been there all along."


"He-man....What a complete and utter Gaylord"

"There was a guy who ended up sleeping on the streets and he spent most of his life searching for his real father. He was a poor bastard"

"ok Trev, this is a TV job, so have you got any experience appearing on camera"
"you are kidding right? This is London you prick, I've been on camera 300 times just getting here"

"god doesn't exist sweetheart."
"yes he does, he's slightly shorter than you and wears a dress."

"If you drink tizer, your urine will look like this..."

"A satelite Navigation system...for trains!" - Actually additional to this...what if the train-driver goes on holiday, on a canal boat?

"I know! We'll cut them into squares! Shit it's been done"

"I spend the whole of november training squirrels for this very reason"

"Why not have a Large Monkey Collider (or LMC)? It's not the colliding bit I'm interested in really, but I am interested in the noise they'll make as they go round."

"...so I thought if I'm gonna break my resolution, I'm gonna do this properly I've held it for 2 years. There is no way I'll break it over something trivial, but now is the time. Look at her eyes Trev, you know that this is the time
so I looked deep into her eyes, and saw the love in them, and I took a deep breath and said "I resolve, from now until the end of time, to the end of my life, to the end of the universe, to stop drying my socks in the microwave"

"All things fall over if you hit them hard enough. Apart from Weebles."

Thank you to you all for reading over the past year, or if you've just started reading them, cool, but where the fuck have you been?


Saturday, 29 August 2009

The TV tax. What does it do for me?

Hi all,

There is absolutely nothing on telly. Well, nothing worth watching anyway, and as I am a resident of the UK I pay the BBC tax, the Television License.

I subscribe to Sky too, so I get approximately 5 billion channels. All of these broadcast total shite. Or if it's not total shite, it's the total shite that was offered to you in the previous hour.
What I will be doing though is going to one of these "+1" channels when the clocks go back. Just to see if it creates a hole in the space time continuum.

But anyway, scanning through the seemingly endless screens offering the equivalent of piercing my eyeballs with a spanner for an hour I discovered "Street Doctors". This is a tad scary.
Basically the BBC has paid for some real GP's to go out stalking and hunting for ill people on the streets of our towns. Once they have pounced on them they promise to fix them up, and send them to hospital or whatever they need.

Street doctors. You can tell by the sign.

What a stupid idea. I'll tell you why.

"YOU POOR GUY! STEP THIS WAY, AND WE'LL SORT YOU OUT! oh, you've collapsed. Ah well"

I would like to raise the issue about me paying National insurance for the NHS to pay for GP's, and paying the TV tax to the BBC so they can pay for some GP's, but I can't be fagged.

No matter.

What seems a little odd that GP's themselves thought it might be a good idea to jump out on unsuspecting people who may have unknown medical conditions. What if they are deaf for crying out loud? Having some dude in a doctors outfit jump in front of you mouthing that you're sick and there are camera and sound men surrounding you. My reaction would be to run screaming.

I personally think that the producers of this show are so stupid that they will do a one off called "Street Doctors: Agoraphobia Special"

However. This might not actually be a bad idea in essence. Why can't we have a service where we get a couple of GP's in a van that parks up in the city centre for half a day to pounce on people? Or maybe even get the local businesses to get a GP in for a day. The NHS could pay for the GP, the business provide a room.
This would solve the whole day off work for an hour to visit the doctor. It would solve the whole "haven't got time" thing. You don't need to worry about drugs on site or whatnot, because GP's don't carry any.

It would probably reduce the amount of out of hours appointments GP's have to do, and reduce waiting time.

Maybe we need these shit TV programs to test some really crap ideas, before we actually try them for real. Now that is worth paying the BBC tax for.

Thanks for reading,

Sunday, 23 August 2009

IT and Dating....Possibly not a good partnership

Hi All,
Dating is a scam. Honestly.
I have been incredibly lucky. I have a partner, 1.5 wonderful kids and 0.5 fucking noisy little bastards.

It didn't really take that long for me to find my ideal partner, who made me laugh and all that other emotionally fulfilling shit. But this isn't why I'm lucky.
It didn't take me that long to conceive, 3 times, unlike these other unlucky people out there. But that's not why I'm lucky.
I didn't have to go to Africa and import one, or buy one off ebay. Or smuggle one in from Sumatra. But that's not why I'm lucky.

I've got a house, that wasn't that hard to get, and it's just big enough for me and my family. But this isn't why I'm lucky.

I've got 2 cars, full of petrol, that tend not to try and kill me every time I start them.
I have everything I feel I need to live my life to the full, and nothing is a struggle. But no, that's not it either.

The reason why I am lucky to have all of the above?

My name is Trevor, and I work in I.T. That is why.

Can you imagine what my success rate on that lovematch.com or whatever the sodding site is called? I couldn't even supply a good picture.
I wear glasses and I've got a stupid goatee\beard thing going on. I am the geeks geek. If it's two things that women hate it's train spotters and IT geeks.

Imagine if I had a blind date though. Introductions.

"Hi I'm Kate"
"Hi I'm Trevor"
"What do you do?"
"I work in IT"


I would rather say that I was in charge of shaving the ball sacks of Gay actors. But even that sounds exciting in comparison doesn't it?
Maybe this is the wrong way of going about it? Can I make IT sound exciting? No.

"I've got this virtual host in a datacentre and one of the disks in the RAID 5 array went nuts, I nearly lost 1.5 TB of data and 9 virtual machines"
"....yawn, sorry...what happened?"
"well luckily for me, haha, I managed to order another Hard Drive and everything was ok."


So I've explained this dating thing to my partner, she said I had better stay with her then. So I will.

Thanks for reading

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

The Banana Effect

Hi all,

How much do you value a banana?

Actually stop and think about it.

Ok, so lets hear your answer....
Nope you're wrong.

Try £20,000.

Yes that's right £20,000. The Crown Persecution..sorry Prosecution Service took a man to court for stealing a single solitary Banana, and then failed to convict him.
The total cost of the trial to the tax payer was £20,000. The actual Banana? The actual physical Banana, still in mint condition, with original packaging, and manufacturers label is.....


I'll work this out for you. There were 26 million taxpayers last year (real numbers on this blog, I got them from Yahoo! answers and everything). Not including self employed dudes. So lets share the 20,000 out between us. So now we have the cost to each one of us.

I'm going to shrink the number down a bit. 7.69230 E-4.
For those of you who don't do maths: that is 0.000769230 quid.
Ok now, I pay tax over a year. And all this Crown Court, CPS, bullshit is worked out over a tax year too. So lets divide that by 365.

so now we are at 0.00000210748 quid. As you can see this number is small. Incredibly small. In fact it is about 2 ten thousandths of a penny.

So now lets work out how many days it would take me, on my own, to pay for a banana. Just using my tax money that has been allocated by the government to take this guy to court...

0.25/0.00000210748 is....you know what? If he wanted a fucking banana that badly I'd have fucking bought him one.

Thanks for reading,

(it's about 351 years by the way, so it would take 351 of us 1 year, and 124956 of us one day. Talk about the butterfly effect huh?)

Source: http://tinyurl.com/ok6mk7

Yes I know it's bloody Sky News as well, gits

Friday, 14 August 2009


Hi All,

Have you seen the obesity figures recently? You'll have to move your arse out of the chair to see them apparently because over 40% of people are nearly fat to the point of death. I don't mean that your fingers are so fat you can't actually dial 999, I mean that you are that fat that your heart will implode with the power of a 4 megaton cheese burger.

But it's not your fault.

I know who's fault it is. The fucking media. Again.

Because we are British we love our TV shows, and we aspire to do the things shown to us on the box. Primarily because we believe everyone else is doing the same, and there is that pressure to keep up with the Jones'.

In the 90's the media were behind the fad of Do It Yourself. Who could forget shows like....errrm, DIY SOS, Changing rooms, 60 minute makeover, and Pimp my Lounge (OK I made that last one up). All of a sudden shares in B&Q and Homebase rocketed. Everyone was doing DIY. Look at how successful handymen were, repairing all the walls, doors, floors, kitchens that we had destroyed. All because we wanted to keep up with each other.

So, guess what the TV schedules are full of nowadays?

TV Chefs and foody people all showing us how to cook, what to eat, what not to eat, what we should try, what we need to eat before we die. Thing is there are so many food shows we, as a nation, are doing the equivalent of eating our fucking house.

Listen, media. Start a fad of exercise regimes and healthy living or something. In fact, what we British need right now, is a healthy balanced media.

Thanks for reading,

Friday, 7 August 2009

Clubbing hasn't changed...or has it?

Hi All,

When you see something everyday, you often don't realise that things change.
Take my hamster for example. Actually don't, just leave him where he is, but I only realised how old and wrinkly and hairless he was getting when a friend of mine came round and asked me why I was keeping my bollocks in a cage and feeding them dried fruit.

Speaking of things that don't change, I decided to give clubbing another go. Now I should at this point give you a little bit of background. I fucking hate clubbing. The tunes are dull, repetitive and noisy and always have some woman shouting in them. I can't stand it. My idea of a good tune is something with down tuned electric guitars, drums and some blokes with enough hairspray, bleach and styling products to officially ban them from internal flights.

So, anyway, off I went into town to find where the beats were. I found a suitable venue got myself a drink and decided to go where the action was, down by the DJ. Man it was noisy. But it's not like Rock, or Heavy Metal where you get 4 minutes of intense ear shattering, bone vibrating noise and lyrics that make you wish you were smoking the joint of the man next to you. It's 4 hours of bass, and the kind of drum beat that sounds like a bloke with sleep apnea using a road drill.

I got to the front and I was trying to have a good time, I was jumping up and down and "pushing the ceiling" and all that crap, but the club atmosphere was still the same, some woman was screaming over the music; "Wooo!" "aaaaaah!", over the hideous and repetitive beat, I was being shoved around and people were shouting at me and all sorts. After about 15 mins, I got tired, and bored. The woman was still screaming, but I took a moment and realised it wasn't coming from the speakers. I looked down and there was this woman crying.

I shouted over the speakers "yeah, I know, I've come here to see if clubbing has changed too, it's boring, and loud but it's not that bad"

She looked up and through teary eyes she said to me

"It's not that *sniff* you've been jumping on my feet for the last 10 minutes"

Thanks for reading,

Monday, 15 June 2009

Bumps in the night

Hi All,

God is it hot! Even if you don't move you end up sweating like an MP in the middle of an expenses scandal. Night times are the worst. I have had to take to sleeping stark bollock naked.
Too much information? Maybe, but you will need that vital information, so remember it well.

So there I am, tucked up in bed with a fan on desperately trying to sleep, and all is quiet. Until I hear a strange noise.
So I lie there, trying to think of what could possibly make the noise, and then it happens again.

Now I'm not paranoid, but I wasn't going to sleep, it was 3am I was hot and slightly pissed off so I thought I'd go and check it out. It was late, but that's no excuse for what I did.

I have in my possession a rather crappy air pistol, and for some reason I really wasn't thinking. I put my glasses on so I could see better in the complete darkness that pervades my house grabbed my pistol and carefully went out onto the landing.

I don't know how you are supposed to do this. Creeping around your own house holding a pistol. I mean, I've played FPS's and even watched some James Bond films, so I know roughly what you are supposed to do, so I start covering corners and doing judo rolls across the landing.

No-one there. I stand there on the landing for a second listening. Nothing. I hear some scratching.

Ok, so there is something downstairs scratching around. Time to look around.

I creep slowly down the stairs, and I can see a light flashing through the glazed doors to my lounge. I creep some more, until I get to the bottom of the stairs.

So there I am, breathing quietly, trying to be just another shadow in the hallway. Timing my moment. Ready to take on anything that is in the lounge. My lounge.

I take the safety off my pistol, and I'm ready.

I wait...


I burst through the door, looking for the light source that was shining through my lounge doors. I find it and fire. Once, twice 3 times, aiming slightly lower so I don't accidentally kill my target.

That's when I realise that I had changed the alert on my msn. That's when I realise where the flashing and the light is coming from. That's when I realise I had just put 3 metal ball bearings into my coffee cup. Smashing it completely.

And now I feel stupid, and I just stand there, stunned.

My partner comes down the stairs and asks what I am doing standing, stark naked, in the lounge at 3 o' clock in the morning, doing terrible James Bond impressions, shooting coffee cups?

I didn't have the heart to tell her. I told her I was just filled with hate and needed to take it out on something.

She asked, why the coffee cup?

I said, I hate the cup.

She went to bed then shaking her head in a "We'll have to put him in a home sooner than we think" kind of way.

And the scratching noise?

That was the hamster.

Thanks for reading,

Tuesday, 9 June 2009

Flouridation, mass medication...for the masses

Hi all,

Look, I know its been a while, but it's not like I can write every week is it? I mean, I go to work, come home, drink beer, have a wank, go to bed, get up, go to work, realise it's Saturday, go home....etc...but to be honest all the news stories have been along the lines of "Dog bites man". There's nothing there I can write about, it happens all the time. "Man bites Dog" stories are cool, but unfortunately are a bit obvious to be remotely interesting to write about. What I look for are stories that can be quite interesting. So I found one.

In the Southampton area (in England this is) they are going to be introducing fluoride into our water supply so our kids can have impeccable teeth. Not a bad thing in essence, the UK has an international stereotype of bad teeth, but what the idiots in charge don't realise is that this is a bad thing.

On the back of every toothpaste tube is a warning about not swallowing the actual paste if we can help it. We are told that in sufficiently high doses it is fatal. We are told to only use a pea size amount so to avoid this. But, with their new scheme they are going to introduce a poison into our water supply. We have had the public meetings and things but we have been ignored.

Weirdly I am not saying we should not have something like this introduced to our diet. What I am going to suggest is a slight modification.

The kids who really need this tend not to drink water unless it is carbonated and mixed with a vegetable syrup and a rather potent acid. What we should be doing then is quite simple.

The kids who don't drink thing like bubbly acid, or have a controlled amount tend to be the most...cared for kids. They don't require the extra fluoride. The kids who do drink something that looks like it came from a bottle in Frankensteins castle do. So why can't we put fluoride in Pepsi, Cola, 7up and all the other horrific drinks out there.

Problem solved really. No-one is getting the "medicine" for no reason. The kids who need it are getting it, and they'll never notice due to the huge amount of saccharine in the drink, and the kids who don't, won't get it at all, and neither will I.

Thanks for reading,

In fact that's lame.

Why don't the government just Fuck off?
I'm fucking fed up about trying to make the mediocre interesting, and that's all we are being fed by the government.
They spend our money on shit, we didn't vote the bastard in charge in, and he's Scottish, he's got his own sodding country to run now, you don't see an Englishman in Scottish parliament do you?
Leave our lives alone. We have nothing to be proud of in this country any more.
Instead of spending stupid amounts of cash on toilet seats, CCTV and other bullshit, why can't we have something really nice to go and visit?
Not the millenium dome, that was crap. But a really nice building that echo's the thoughts of the nation. Why not fill that building with everything that it means to be British? Maybe even a tribute to the garden shed, where all the best things are invented. Fill it with IK Brunel, fill it with railways, fill it with the Royal Navy, the Army and even the RAF. Fill it with Concord the Harrier Jump Jet and Aston Martins. Fill it with tea and strawberries and cream. Fill it with the Union Jack and late night curries. Fill it with patriotism and the need to expand our horizons. Fill it with euphamisms and talking over the garden fence. Hell even fill it with Tim bloody Henman.

Make me proud to be a Brit. Don't make me feel like I have to admit it.

Thanks for reading,

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

pre-school play pictures, the decision is mine

Hi All

Well I don't know what to say....I need some advice.

Some twat has complained to OFSTED about a picture that was taken at one of the pre-school shows that was on a few months ago.

Why does that bother you Trev? Was it your kids?
No. But I am a committee member at that pre-school, and now we have to make a decision on having a blanket ban on all photos and videos taken at the pre-school or re-writing it so we effectively single out particular types of people who don't mind having photos taken of their kids.

Here is some background. Currently the contract does cover certain parts of this privacy. But we are being asked by OFSTED to police the internet. Basically the contract asks the parents to promise not to put piccies up on t'internet. In return for which we'll ask you if we can use the photos for promotions etc...

What we also do, which is kind of unique, is that we take piccies of the kids while they are playing or doing something and we put the piccies into their "home record book". Parents miss out on what their kids do at the pre-school and this is a good way of communicating with the parents.

With a blanket ban, all this would stop. we would have to hand-pick kids to use for photo ops and things, and we wouldn't be able to film or take piccies of the kids in plays or productions or events or anything. We can't exclude the kids from taking part in the plays because that is against the law. So we cannot record any of it for prosperity.

If we say no to a blanket ban, then the parents who are concerned about privacy in this way will leave. But we will still get the benefits and FREEDOMS for the parents to video their children in a play.

In my view I say no to the blanket ban. But can I as a committee member possibly put kids at risk by having their pictures on the internet?

If a kid falls off a swing or something we can put a crash mat down can't we? If a kid gets a picture taken and if that picture is grabbed out of thousands available by a peado, then...what? Do the kids become a target? Or not? If not, as distateful as it is, no harm has come to the kid. If so, then by allowing the photo to be taken we are partly responsible.

That is my quandry. And one that schools all over the land will have to face now, and all because of 2 miniority groups.

Those who demand that no-ones takes pictures of any children
And those who want to fuck children.

Thanks for reading,

Sunday, 3 May 2009

Something-Flu, Victory is ours!

Hi All,

Media Hype, is it all it's cracked up to be? Sensationalising every tiny little thing. Basically newspapers and the media are in love not with the story, but with prefixes. Flu, is dull. But "Bird Flu" is exciting. "Pig Flu"? does it have a prefix? Yes, so its exciting. Pig flu has killed under 200 people, and yet it is splashed all over papers. "Normal" Flu has killed 5000 people so far this year.
why are the papers not going mental about that?

I actually believe it is because it has the mystical prefix. Of course, you know what the next one is going to be:

Bird Flu, killed less than 100
Pig Flu, killed less than 200
Normal Flu, Kills 38,000 per year

and now I reveal to you the next big influenza:

MAN FLU: It feels like it's killed 500,000 people already!

Luckily we have something in our arsenal that Mexicans do not. While they are alone fighting evil pig influenza, we have the mightiest weapon known to man. The good bacteria in a pot of Yakult. We have a limitless supply of these mini friends to defeat our evil curly tailed microbiotic foes. Unfortunately, our doctors have not realised this. They give us so called antibiotics. These are probably invented by the Americans. After all, it is friendly fire they can get away with. So if you do get ill, here is your choice. Eat Yakult or take medicine, but don't do both otherwise you may as well eat Ski and die.

Thanks for reading,

Saturday, 18 April 2009

"I want my privacy!" Screams man with blog

Hi all,

So, there I was. Sat at work without a care in the world. Actually that's a lie, there were several cares, but that's work for you.
Anyhew, there I was sat at work with...some...cares in the world when I read a story about some group of people who are trying to protect my privacy.

Now these people are supposed to be fairly intelligent as they spotted that the government are trying to create an uber-database with all our personal details, all our medical history, all our tax/benefits information, all our beliefs and what we do in our spare time, absolutely everything, on.

Now I have always supported these pro-privacy people, not financially, just in spirit, because I like the idea of me having a private life that the government doesn't know about. Why should a bunch of unelected (yes, I said it, and it's true) arseholes have the ability to see what I do on a Saturday between 9 and 10pm? Hell, half the time I don't remember what I was doing between 9 and 10pm on a Saturday night.

But anyway, I was invited by these pro-privacy people to fill in a petition against a national database and ID card system. Not a bad idea, until you realise what this involves. They wanted me, to write my name, address, and put my signature on a form saying "I like to keep things from the government", which they were going to send...to the government!

These pro-privacy people obviously think that irony is a description of a 10oz rust steak served in an iron bru gravy. Whoever thought of that petition idea needs shooting, but unfortunately I can't seem to find their details anywhere.

Thanks for reading,

Friday, 10 April 2009

Because you're worth it

Hi all,

I have seen the future. It is bleak.

Corporations are trying to kill the human species. We have "2nd Life" taking away personal human interaction. We have Facebook doing the same. We have World of Warcraft giving people a virtual social life with people all over the planet, with people they will never meet.

And now I have realised a shocking truth.

Make up companies are taking what little human interaction we have with each other and are destroying it. What apparently attracts us men to the opposite sex is what is going to destroy the human race forever.

The 2 main adverts I have seen for makeup recently have been for Mascara and Lipstick. This is deadly serious! These 2 products more than any other are going to destroy the human race. The adverts for Mascara over the past few years have been to further increase and enhance the size of your eyelashes. Up to 324x their normal length.

It is the same with lipstick too. Increasing the appearance of fuller lips. Can't you see where this is going? I believe, with the speed research is going, we have less than a decade before women have the facial features of a Camel.

And who is going to want to ask that out? We men already have issues when we see Camel toes on a woman, let alone a Camels face! There is one other way this could go. This is just as bad. With the advances in foundation technology giving women a smoother looking complexion, again with the really long eyelashes and lips, the females of our species will look like Mrs Potato Head. Would you go out with that? NO!

So this is it. 10 years. I give it a decade and then there will be no more breeding humans. Half will be behind a monitor the other half will look like Camels. And if you do go out your other half will be a camel. The only difference being the location of the humps.

Thanks for reading, because you are worth it.

Monday, 6 April 2009

The battle of the Vegetables

Hi all,

Interesting times are afoot! As you all know, I am a fan of growing my own cat toilet. Well, after several weeks I have finally found something to keep the furry little shits away from my veggie patch. Netting. Seems cats don't like netting.

But I have an additional issue now. You see I am already 5 weeks into the growing season and I have a huge gap where some of my veggies used to be. I'm not happy about this. At all.

But I found something can can give me a head start on regrowing my poor garden, and these plants are really hardy. They will grow in temperatures of anywhere between 0 and 5 degrees centigrade. However, you cannot get these from garden centres. In fact garden centres would even say that it would be impossible to grow these plants in these conditions.

What I am saying is that if you get your vegetables from Morrisons and put them in your fridge, within 2 days you will probably be eaten, "Day of the Triffid" style.

I have never seen anything like it. I bought some red peppers and some garlic a couple of days ago, and sure enough when I opened the door the peppers grabbed my arms and the garlic made a break for the back door. They didn't escape though as the onions and Sugarsnap peas came to my aid. The fight was horrific, but it did save me cutting everything up for my stir fry, and the survivors are planted in my veggie patch. So in a way we're all winners.

Thanks for reading,

Saturday, 28 March 2009

Monitors provide tan

Hi all,

Here is a news bulletin for you, from the BBC:

'Computer tan' website scores hit

Ok so here's the story, 1 million people have been online to a website and downloaded software that they believed would give them a 5 minute tan.

Now I'm not sure what is worse here to be honest. The fact the website is, in effect, mis-advertising their product. Or that 1 million people believed that their PC monitor could give them a tan. I wouldn't mind but these are probably the same million people that bitched about fucking mobile phone towers irradiating their faces.

How stupid are these people? I always used to go by the phrase;

"Half the people you meet are below average intelligence"

But now I'm going to go with;

"Half the people are average meat, and have no intelligence."

Not worth talking to, not even worth eating, they'd probably be really stringy and horrible.

Did they really think that their monitors would get past ECC, BSI and other health and safety Euro-rulings if with a simple piece of software they could emit UV intense enough it'd burn you?

Were these people so ridiculously retarded as to believe that all hardware supported this functionality and no-one had noticed before?

Unfortunately though, I bet these wankers are clever enough to create a law-suit asking why this isn't possible when the website clearly said it could be done.

Stupid bastards. Mind you, maybe they have an excuse. After all, judging by the area this story is based in, inbreeding does have an effect in some ways.

LINK: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/nottinghamshire/7969758.stm

Thanks for reading.

Wednesday, 25 March 2009

Google knows...that is all

Hi all,
There is a stirring in the force, a change in the world, something is affecting people through the interweb. It is affecting everyone.People who have never been on the internet are now going online to look at pictures.

And what are these pictures of? Where have they come from? Who took them? Do you really want to know? Do you want to know that badly? Do you really want to know the truth?

I'll tell you...it's Google.

Google have been to your house. They have been to your mums house. They have even been to your Nan's house. They have pictures of your dad in a hat. They know where you live!

But why do you care?

Seriously, I don't have figures to support this, but apparently 117% of people in the "Googled" cities, in the UK, have been online in the last fortnight checking out the pictures of their house. Quick tip for you, open your front door, go outside, turn around. See that? See that building? That's your fucking house. It's been there all along.

What so special about it being "online"?

Tell you what, go back outside with a camera, turn around, see that building? Take a picture. Run back indoors and upload it.

There you go. Your house, on the tubes. Now stop fucking boasting that your house is on the internet and mine isn't. Mine would be too if I could be arsed, and no, I'm not jealous honest.

Thanks for reading,

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

Drinking like it's 2003

Hi all,
I tried an experiment at the weekend. I was at someone's 21st birthday party, so I decided to party like I was 21. Here's a tip.


If you have already been through all that heavy drinking stuff, with the shots of different coloured liquor and wierd things that taste like mouthwash, and you haven't done it in quite some time, then don't try it. Don't even think to yourself that you can. YOU CAN'T.

I was drunk. Now I'm not talking the kind of drunk where you know how to spell your name on the third attempt. I mean absolutely smashed. The beer fairies got me home, you know who you are, and I love you too.

I was so smashed that I have memories of thinking I had more legs than a camel. If you have ever seen a Camel get around you'd know why this was a problem. Camels can't cope with four legs, let alone a spider embarrassing 14. People have said that I looked, shall we say, awkward getting out the back of a Micra. To them I say...


Why is it that alcohol affects your brain? I'd much rather a drink that was much more specific than all encompassing brain failure. How about a drink that when consumed gives you a blind spot for snacks. You have 5 shots of this stuff and all of a sudden all crisps, twiglets and sandwiches disappear.
Or a drink that makes you hear people talk like they were in the middle ages? That one would have its uses. Just drink 5 pints of the stuff before doing a Shakespeare essay. Sorted.

Now I'm not putting myself forward for testing, but trust me, there are plenty of 21 year olds out there who would be more than willing to try them, repeatedly, until they fail to remember how many limbs they have.

Thanks for reading,

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

He-Man is a Big, Gay, Nazi

I've been away, I've come back.

I was jailed for running a 90 year old granny over, but the jury weren't too bothered about that. They were bothered however by the 4 people carrying her coffin, that's the last time I drive in a cemetery.

Right, on with the show! He-Man, the 80's cartoon hero is up for a bashing. What a complete and utter gaylord.

"Ooh look at my big sword, I'll cut you"

He is the epitome of the muscly gay stereotype.


Waving his sword around. Who does he think he is? He is also a liar. You can tell he's gay by the way he tries to hide it by spending his time riding what can only be described as a giant pussy. Yeah mate, you have the power. Obviously.

Also if you watch the cartoons you'll notice he walks funny. Some say that its down to animation techniques available at the time. I say it's because his ass hurts too much.

He is also a blatant Nazi. Big, muscular blond haired and blue eyed bloke. With one hell of a schwerpunkt sword, and you can tell he's evil really because he lives in a place called "greyskull". Seriously, if you are a good guy you live in Acacia Avenue or something. Where did Banana-Man live? Danger Mouse? exactly. Not fucking 18 Greyskull Street, Deathsville.

"OOOh look I'm so hard, BY THE POWER OF FORESKIN!!! shit, GREYSKULL!"

I've had enough of him. The sooner people stop adding him to youtube the better.

Thanks for reading.

Sunday, 15 February 2009

Car Crash Record Breaker

Hi All,

Car accidents can be horrific. You can have serious damage done to your internal organs, broken bones, whiplash, cuts and bruises, psychological trauma and normally even a little knock can be quite debilitating.

A woman recently had a car crash, and it broke her nails for example. That doesn't sound that bad until you read on and the story says that these nails were mammoth, 2ft long, record breakers.

That woman holds the guinness world record for the longest fingernails in the world. Can you imagine a life where you can't type an email, open a jar of Branston Pickle, rub your eyes without removing one of them or unrolling toilet paper without automatically carving them into paperchain people? It must also have been a pain in other ways. You have probably experienced yourself when you have cut your fingernails and left a sticky out bit and that has got caught on something.

Well imagine if that "sticky out bit" is actually 2 and a half feet long! You could get them caught on Buses, cars, hot air ballons and passing tramps, let alone that special fluffy jumper you got for christmas. Can you imagine getting home at the end of the day and having to remove stray dogs, pigeons and squirrels and things that have got caught up in your hands? No, didn't think so.

Well, she had this car accident and I would understand at this point if she cried. She has lost her livelihood. But on the bright side she can now do all those things that she hasn't been able to do for the last 20 years. Normally these things are not without a sense of irony. I bet she is a natural touch typist, or she can play amazing piano. Or something.

But I do know this. She is the only person in the world who has had a car accident and has actually come off physically better. That's more than lucky.

thanks for reading.

Thursday, 5 February 2009

Dear god,

Hi all,

I am not what you would call a religious man. You would probably call me a lot of things, some of them rather rude maybe, but not one of them would be religious. In fact there is nothing more strange for me than spending several hours of everyday worshipping what actually amounts to be a fairy.

But in my happy Atheist world there is a problem. My daughter's school took my daughter (and others, it wasn't a special indoctrination trip) to church.

Now due to the quirks of a 5 year old's brain she has got it into her head that the priest, or vicar, storyteller if you will, is, in actual fact, god. This doesn't seem to be a problem until you try to explain it in from an atheist point of view. Here is roughly how the conversation went.

"Daddy, I went to church today and saw god"

"god doesn't exist sweetheart."

"yes he does, he's slightly shorter than you and wears a dress."

"That's the vicar, my angel"

"No Daddy, it's god."

"God doesn't exist, some people believe he does, but I don't"

"But..I SAW him"

"Sweetheart, you can't have seen 'god' because he is an anthropomorphic personification of natural forces, and the stories of his alter ego, Jesus are an amalgamation of stories that originated 2000 years before Jesus was around, if he even existed"

Ok, so I probably pitched this a little high for a 5 year old, but to her credit she came back with:

"I know that Daddy, but I saw him, and I spoke to him. So he does exist"

Now my response to this was probably not as intelligent. In fact it is probably more what I would expect from my daughter, having just taken a first class trip into the world of sarcasm recently, but I said, and I am quite embarrassed about this. I said:


So there you go. My daughter believes in god. But what's more she believes that father Gerald is god. And I have no argument that she can understand. Any more than I can explain that inside every Tellytubby there is an under paid, under valued actor. So now that seed has been placed in her mind, through society and not through my teaching, I have to provide the balancing wheel, I will have to entertain her thoughts until such time as she can actually understand exactly what she has been told. Thank you to the School system.

Thanks for reading,

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

My idea for "Dragons Den"

Hi all,
I was sat watching "Dragons Den" the other day, I really like the idea of inventors doing their pitches to investors on telly, it tells you what people are thinking about, and what problems they are trying to solve. And there have been some crackers.

Like the woman who was trying to get £250,000 for personalised pants. Or the really geeky "man in a shed" engineer who had invented a radical new gearing system, and wanted a stupid amount of cash and wouldn't show anyone. Yeah. I can do that too.

"I've invented magic pixie dust,but I'm not going to show you how it works and you are not allowed to see it, give me large wodges of cash."

But I have stumbled upon a really good idea that no-one has thought of. It will make me richer than the dreams of Avarice. It is.......
I'm trying to build tension here, bear with me
A satellite Navigation system...for trains!
Not so stupid, think about it. A plastic box with a gyroscope in and on that is an arrow that always points straight up. Then you record some voices to say at random intervals;

"In 200 yards, straight on"

"AH! But that won't work! What about when the train changes direction, and the driver has do go to the other end of the train?"

I don't hear you cry. Well, simple. He'll take the box with him, and when he gets to the other end of the train, he can put it on the dashboard or whatever they have on trains. The arrow will still point straight on, and the voice will still be correct! Cheap to manufacture, cheap to buy, and always accurate. I want £100,000 for 10% of my business "Pointless_gadgets.com"

Thanks for reading!

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

Jobs, personalities? what?

Hi all,

What kind of person are you? I bet that your personality matches the job you do, as long as your happy in it.If you like being outdoors, I bet that you work as one of those annoyingly upbeat people at those corporate team building exercise places. If you like working in a place with no atmosphere, you work as an astronaut or as a Little Chef cook. If you find that you are unhappy in your job, it probably isn't down to your boss, or your workload. It's probably down to the fact that your personality profile doesn't match your job.

Careers advisors always used to tell me that I was suitable for something strange and off the wall, like chicken mechanic. What the hell is a chicken mechanic? That's what you put on your wedding register, or if you get onto "Price is Right" or some other daytime TV rubbish. You don't say "Chicken dissector" or "chicken part relocator" do you?

But what I want to know is, what kind of personality do you have to have in order to work in the research and development lab for walkers crisps? Your only goal at the end of a 37.5 hour week is to make a potato more exciting. A potato. More exciting.

"I know we'll cut them into squares! shit it's been done"

If you do work in the R&D lab for walkers crisps, I'll save you 37.5 hour week, and I'll give you an idea that's bound to win.What is it that people really crave? Where do you buy crisps randomly? The pub! So what you need is lager and pork scratching flavour crisps. It's just an idea. That's all.

Thanks for reading

Friday, 9 January 2009

Olympic games, where's the dough?

Hi all,

I've just come across this golden nugget I'd like to share with you all. Now I hope your all sitting uncomfortably, because its going to get worse...the cost for the 8 minute segments for the handover ceremonies for the Olympic games came in at.....now I'll give you some time to have a guess..........
No, you're wrong...unless you've googled it already, but it comes in at 2.5 million quid. 2.5million quid for some dancers and Beckham to kick a football. But that leaves us with a problem. You see in the current economic slowdown, and predicted worldwide recession, that is quite a lot of money. You know its quite a lot of money because if you walked into your bank and said "I'd like to deposit 2.5 million quid, your bank manager would make love to you, and probably won't let you go until you know how to say "Yes, that' s lovely thank you, now let go of my leg" in every language your "local bank" understands.

So, they can't possibly cut down on spending on the opening and closing ceremonies, not after China, so they are going to have to cut down on spending in events. 100m sprints will be shortened to 80m, the high jump will only be done by hedge fund managers, and the hammer throw will be won by the Polish, who will, of course, still be building the Olympic Village.

But all is not lost! I have a solution. Instead of spending 100 billion quid, or whatever it is, on the Olympic village, put the money into local schools and they can host the events. Obviously the events will have to be changed slightly. The marathon will be 10 laps of the school field, it will have to be a 50m sprint, the 400m will be a 3 legged race and the relay will involve an egg and spoon. This would be no bad thing. It is really boring watching some already well known athletes doing predictably well in their chosen event but, like strictly come dancing, the viewing figures would be massive to see Dwain Chambers or someone trying to beat a record while trying to balance chicken ovulate on an eating implement.

Boris, if you are reading, get rid of bendy buses, then get on with speaking to the schools.

Thanks for reading

Monday, 5 January 2009

New Years Resolutions

Hi all,

What is the point in new years resolutions?
Its just a good way of depressing yourself by February, and we've normally got bigger things to worry about. I worked it out a while ago though, I resolved never to make another new years resolution, and it was really cool for a couple years, then one year my missus and I are sat on the sofa and Big Ben did its 12 rings, and my missus looked into my eyes and said

"My new years resolution is to love you for the rest of my life, no matter what happens, I'll stay by you from now until the end, you make me complete"

I was stunned and overcome and she looked into my eyes searching for my reply, but I couldn't, because I resolved never to make another new years resolution.

So i thought if I'm gonna break my resolution I'm gonna do this properly I've held it for 2 years, there is no way I'll break it over something trivial, but now is the time. Look at her eyes Trev, you know that this is the time.

So I looked deep into her eyes, and saw the love in them, and I took a deep breath and said "I resolve, from now until the end of time, to the end of my life, to the end of the universe, to stop drying my socks in the microwave"

Thanks for reading