The Rich Tapestry of Life

Welcome to my page of random mutterings.

Those of you who know me will see a calm veneer. You will also know that I'm easily annoyed. I think it's healthy.

I allow myself to be annoyed most of the time. It doesn't take much. People who use the letter 'H' twice in 'Southampton', txt spk, Tom Jones, and suchlike annoy me in equal measure.

Here you will find tidbits that annoy me, amuse me, and enlighten me, and I shall share them with you, to annoy, amuse, and enlighten you.

Friday 22 October 2010

Wenzel's Orgasmability

Something different for you today.

Today I visited Wenzel's in the unmitigated shithole that is Uxbridge and treated myself to a Crispy Bacon and Egg Mayonnaise roll.  While I was disappointed that the employees were of the Polak variety, I have to say that I was delighted with the quality of my roll.  It was fairly large, and I couldn't fault the asking price of £1.60 despite my proclivity to a good old haggle. The bacon was indeed crispy and that's no bad thing, because there's nothing worse than floppy bacon in a roll in my opinion.  I was also pleased with the quality of mayonnaise that had been lovingly blended with the large chunks of egg.  Honestly, the whole thing was a taste sensation!

The only area of disappointment was that Wenzel's only sell Welsh mineral water in their Uxbridge shop.  I'm loath to drink water from the Principality that gave us Neil Kinnock, irritating shrieking gobshite Charlotte Church, and that strumpet with the intolerable accent from The One Show.  In fact, I'd rather drink my own piss.  It wasn't until I'd finished drinking it that I realised what I'd done.  Bloody good job that I have the whole weekend to detox with copious amounts of alcohol.

Anyway, pay Wenzel's a visit! They make good stuff.

Thursday 21 October 2010

For Fucks Sakes...

Those of you who know me will be aware that I am, on a daily basis, becoming increasingly fucked off with people in general.  I feel constantly let down by my fellow humans.  That's if some of them are human at all, because I'm seriously beginning to wonder. 

We've all got our pet hates, and it'd be fair to say that I have more than most people.  I assume it's part of getting older?

Anyway.

Recent Annoyances:

Why do I have to wait for ten minutes at my local to get a pint?

Why, when I half-jokingly complain (because despite your inability to be altogether effective in your role, I do concede that you're generally likeable) that I've been waiting for ten minutes, do you always look at me like something that just dropped out of a dog's arse and say:  'Well, I'm working on my own', or 'I was running food', when really what you mean is that you just suffered an horrific triple fracture of your eyelash and it required immediate attention or the whole world would suddenly have come to a shuddering halt.

Why do young men have hair styles that actually belong on young women?

Why can't I park my car without a spotty PCSO (with one of the above hairdos) telling me that my rear bumper is hanging over the mong space by four inches?  If the people using the mong spaces drove those little blue invalid carriages like they used to instead of government subsidised dribble wagons they'd HAVE ENOUGH ROOM, wouldn't they!

Why do women drive 4x4 vehicles?  Do they all live on farms?  Or are they just pretentious cock gobblers who delight in the corpulence of their husband's wallet, while all at the same time feeling it necessary to share their deranged delusions of grandeur with the rest of us?  I'm rather leaning toward the latter.

Facebook

Now, Facebook just irritates the bloody life out of me.  Not so much the concept itself, more the fact that people tend to play out their whole lives on there for the whole world to see. 

I don't care if you've split up with Marvin. 

Or that the reason you split up with Marvin is because Kaz told you he shagged your best friend, her mum, and her dog. Twice.

I don't care that you're back 'in a relationship' with Marvin because you found out that the part about him shagging the dog belonging to your best friend's mum wasn't true.  Or at least that's what Kaz's friend, Shaz, told you.

I don't give a fuck that Kaz is a lying bitch.

And I won't give a fuck when, in 9 months time, Shaz'll be up the stick with Marvin's sprog because they both turned out to be unmitigated liars, and the night Shaz was watching Marvin allegedly shag your best friend, her mum, and the dog (twice), he was actually shagging Shaz and Kaz.

I don't give a fuck about Farmville, and no, I don't want to join in  And stop fucking poking me. 

I always assume the reason you're putting an invite to your 'party' on Facebook is because none of the people you spend any time with on a daily basis can be arsed with you when you're sober, never mind drunk.  Moreover, you need to get an idea of numbers so as you know whether to book the Savoy or just stick with the telephone box as planned.

Honestly, it's absolutely mind-numbing.  I just want to know if there are any REAL people out there?

Hello? Hello?!

Tuesday 19 October 2010

Poppies.


It's that time of year again.  I was browsing through my photographs of Belgium and France earlier today, and came across this beauty.  Tyne Cot Cemetery.  It is impossible to even begin trying to imagine what these brave men went through to ensure that I am able to air my views on this blog today.  When I visit these war graves and monuments my pride is overtaken by a sense of interminable sorrow at the complete waste of life that was The Great War, and every other war before and since.  

I'm not sure if these men would have fought were they to know what this country would become, but their courage in the face of impossible odds should never be forgotten, nor taken for granted.  Along with their present day counterparts, they deserve nothing other than our complete respect and gratitude for putting their lives on the line for the ideals that each of us hold so dear.

We will remember them.

Monday 18 October 2010

Katy Perry or Cheryl Cole?

I'm leaning towards Katy Perry, myself.  The only downside is that Russell Brand's love truncheon has already been there.

Still, even that's better than having Ashely Cole's seconds, I suppose.

Modern Football, Danny Murphy, Indiscipline, Diving, and the Offside Rule.

THE OFFSIDE LAW

First of all, I'm not sure that Mark Hughes should be wagging the finger at referees and linesmen about the application of the laws of the game given as he spent a fair part of his career breaking them - class player though he was.

So the offside rule. To me, it makes not a jot of difference that my beloved Spurs had the benefit of Mike Dean's decision on Saturday, the offside rule is a total joke.  Quite why FIFA had to complicate a perfectly good, workable rule that everyone understood  is beyond me.  I accept that it was done to promote attacking football, but clearly the interpretation of the rule is so blurred now that no one really knows what's going on.  There is an art to defending.  Arsenal under George Graham are a perfect example, it helped them to great success in the late 80's and early 90's.  You don't have to be a fan of the type of football - and God knows I'm not - to appreciate that it was effective, and that his team had the discipline and the know-how to do it to great effect.  FIFA go on about how referees should have discretion in their application of the laws of the game. The old offside rule was simple in that a linesman or a referee could use their discretion as to:

a) Whether or not they felt a player was interfering with play by standing in an offside position

Or:

b) Whether or not a player was seeking to gain an advantage by standing in an offside position.

Or:

c) Whether or not a player was just plain offside.

What FIFA have done by talking about phases of play and so on has done nothing other than to confuse fans, players, and officials into having 101 different views, none of which appear to be completely correct.  The Spurs goal on Saturday should not have stood.  The second Everton goal yesterday should not have stood. Both William Gallas and Aiyegbeni Yakubu were standing in offside positions, and I honestly believe that they are equally offside. None of this rubbish that neither of them touched it the ball.  Gallas threw a leg at the ball in the hope he was going to get a touch to it.  Yakubu was standing directly in front of Pepe Reina, blocking his view.  In my view, the way to deal with the issue is to give discretion back to the referees and linesmen.  Go back to applying the offside rule sensibly - if you're offside and hanging a leg out for a ball, or if you're stood in front of the goalkeeper blocking his view, accept that you're offside and get on with it. However, while I disagree with Mike Dean's decision to allow Spurs' second goal on Saturday, I applaud him for having the balls to apply the laws of the game as he saw fit at the time.

DANNY MURPHY's BIG PIE-HOLE

Now, Danny Murphy and his views on dangerous tackles and indiscipline. He really ought to keep his daft mouth shut on matters of discipline.  Particularly when you consider that I for one can remember last season in the Europa League when he got himself sent off for a moment of sheer petulance in the last minute of a tie with Shakhtar Donetsk.  It's all very well, Danny, if you're whiter than white yourself and you come out with these remarks about the behaviour of other teams and their staff. But for someone who currently sits at number 58, with 46 yellow cards, on a list of all 2016 players ever to have been booked in the Premier League, you might want to start weeding your own garden before looking over the fence at those of your fellow professionals.  Enough said about that, really.

MAROUANE CHAMAKH

On to Mr Chamakh and his Tom Daleyesque display of diving so far this season.  Funnily enough, I can see why the referee was conned on Saturday into giving Arsenal their penalty.  Doesn't alter the fact that it was a dive, and diving is cheating.  Mr Chamakh has won 5 penalties this season for Arsenal.  Some teams don't get 5 penalties in a season. I can think of at least 3 of those penalties where the consensus among fans - even those of the team he represents - and pundits alike was that Mr Chamakh had gone down like he had been clobbered by a giant invisible frying pan.  But fair play to him, a 60% cheat-to-conversion-rate isn't bad for a team with a manager who repetitively extols the virtues of fair play.  Which brings me on to my next point.

ARSENE WENGER

I'm not going to sit here and batter Arsene Wenger for the sake of battering him.  After all, a lot of what he says is pure common sense, and to argue with every point of view of someone who has had his success is just ridiculous.  So believe me when I say that I'm not writing this as an Arsene Wenger hater, or just because it makes me feel better as a Spurs fan if I give the Gooners and their manager a bit of stick.  I'm writing this because I hate some of the things Arsene Wenger says.

Mr Wenger:  It simply is not good enough to sit in judgement of the style of football played by everyone else just because it no longer fits in with your idea of how the game 'should' be played - and I'll tell you why.  When you were winning things, it was perfectly acceptable for members of your squad to behave like animals.  It hasn't always been quick passing and silky skills, Arsene

Patrick Vieira - 78 yellow cards, 8 red.

Gilles Grimandi - 23 yellow cards, 3 red.

Martin Keown - 49 yellow cards, 5 red.

Emmanuel Petit - 15 yellow cards, 3 red.

(To name only 4)

Now, we could go into the stats a bit deeper and analyse how many appearances they each made - not that many in the case of Grimandi and Petit - but what'd be the point? None, because the point is already proven.  Anyway, just to drive it home a bit further, and this is the part that makes any rhetoric he comes up with about everyone else completely obscene in my view, Arsene Wenger presides over a club that, in the all time discipline league, sits in 42nd place out of a possible 44 teams.  Worse than Bolton, Wimbledon, Blackburn, Stoke, Leeds, Leicester, Birmingham, Wolves and everyone else apart from Chelsea and Everton. 

I don't entirely disagree with Mr Wenger's view on tackling.  What I will say is that it was fine for Arsenal to behave like the very teams he is so quick to accuse of using thuggish tactics when it was bringing him success and silverware.  It was fine to miss the bad tackles.  It was fine for him to defend Patrick Vieira when he spat in Neil Ruddock's face after having been sent of during a game against West Ham United.  English fans aren't stupid, Arsene, we don't forget these things.  Even recently, and on more than one occasion, he has seen fit to walk from the dugout straight down the tunnel with his nose in the air instead of offering his hand to the manager of the opposition.  All too frequently it appears that he doesn't practice the very things he perpetually harps on about.  Where's the fairness, respect, sportsmanship, grace?  Maybe it's a good thing that he was put in a position on Saturday where he couldn't defend the indefensible.

To make my position completely clear on all of the above, and before I get a whole shitload of Gooners coming down on me like a ton of bricks, I will offer you a summary - and this will be as balanced as everything above.

No one team is whiter than white.  No one player is completely innocent.  I don't believe that players fall into such tight stereotypes as people put them in.  I don't believe that any player goes onto the field of play with a mind to hurt a fellow professional.  I don't believe that Jack Wilshere intentionally went in studs-up on Nikola Zigic on Saturday.  I don't believe that Ryan Shawcross, Karl Henry, or Nigel De Jong deliberately went in to break the legs of Aaron Ramsey, Bobby Zamora, or Hatem Ben Arfa.  The point is that Zigic could have been injured just as badly as a result of a mistimed, ill-judged moment of over-exuberance from one of the finest young players this country has seen for years.  What makes a  mockery of Mr Wenger is that this player happens to be one of his own, and it appears that not even he, the great Arsene Wenger, can keep his own players from making grave errors of judgement.

Tony Pulis, Mick McCarthy, or Sam Allardyce do not have their teams playing a style of football that fills me with joy.  However, I don't have to like it.  Football is a contact sport and should remain that way.  We each have different ideas of how it should and shouldn't be played, but it's not for the purists of this world to tell people like Pulis, McCarthy, and Allardyce that their style is wrong.  

It most certainly is not the place of players and managers who have struggled to maintain their own discipline and that of their teams down the years to be acting like judge and jury on the perceived ill conduct of their fellow professionals.

Thursday 14 October 2010

My Dad Was Cool

I was 14 when he died in 1992.

When I was 14, anyone in their 50's was ancient.  My dad was 54, and now I recognise that 54 really is no age.

I just wanted to put something on here because we often laugh about my dad's little failings and foibles. We chuckle because he could be abrasive to the point of being amusing.  I remember his bluntness, and how it could be hurtful sometimes. I remember how he said exactly what he thought - and bugger the consequences. ( Don't know where I get that from?) 

I was thinking to myself... We remember these things because we've each inherited them in some way.  My sister, Lesley, is capable of giving you the same look as he did, and makes me laugh in the same way my dad did.

My brother, Graeme, has my dad's stoicism and sharpness of tongue. He even sounds a little bit like him, sometimes.

Mark inherited my dad's quietness, and the wisdom to know that sometimes it's better to listen than speak.

Andy forever holds dad in the highest esteem, and despite their differences, grew to love him and have the utmost respect for him. 

Sometimes I think all of us are little unfair towards dad, so just for little while, I'm going to defend him, because he was quite cool after all. (Despite his penchant for bad swimming trunks).

He liked The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Who, and The Kinks. He liked Nat 'King' Cole, Jim Reeves, Roger Miller, and Dean Martin. He liked Kevin 'Bloody' Wilson, and the Fureys.

He watched Fawlty Towers, Monty Python, and 'Allo 'Allo.  He supported Luton Town Football Club.  He liked to watch Golf on the telly and laughed at Peter Alliss' commentary. He used to let me stay up late on a Wednesday to watch Sportsnight. 

He made the best potato cakes in the history of the universe.

He liked cough candy and blackcurrant and liquorice boiled sweets, and he'd eat them until his tongue was sore.

He took me to Cornwall, Scotland, Spain (twice), Ireland, Florida, France, The Lake District, Hatfield House, Kentwell Hall, Blenheim Palace, Lavenham, Portsmouth, HMS Belfast, The Cutty Sark, Cheddar Gorge, Tower of London, Houses of Parliament, London Dungeon, Farnborough Air Show, Hendon RAF Museum......  I'd be here all night if I listed all the places he's taken me.

He took me sledding when it snowed. He tried to teach me how to play golf. He played cricket with me.  He was a capable golfer himself.  He worked hard and made sure that I never wanted for anything.  He took care of my mum. He had a cracking sense of humour. He liked reading, and furthering his knowledge.  He took me to Harrow Model Shop and bought me a model yacht that we sailed together at Rickmansworth Aquadrome.
He used to drive fast over the bridge on Batchworth Lane in Northwood because it made my tummy go funny.

He taught me that one can never read enough.  He showed me that I should learn for myself the things I haven't been taught.


I'd give anything to spend a night in the pub with my dad, enjoying a pint together. And that is truly the only missing memory.


But before you think I'm a morbid old sod, I'm eternally proud of my dad, and despite him being a cranky bugger at times, there are genuinely no truly bad memories.  I know that we all miss him terribly.


And it's true.  My dad was cool.

Why I dislike committees.

Funny things, committees.

I am a member of a social group of people who share an interest. We work as a team. Now, as far as I'm aware, working as a team requires teamwork. Teamwork is not a by-word for how much members of the team like or dislike each other. A team doesn't require its members to even speak to each other in order to function effectively. 

Now committees are, generally, a pain in the arse. This is because they tend to be manned by people who like to embark on little power trips, those with inflated egos, and those who are slightly out of touch with both modernity and reality.  They tend to forget that they are an elected body. They are given that gift by the same people they continually let down. They also tend to forget that they can be removed as quickly as they were elected.

Now if I were to make an ambiguous remark on my personal Twitter feed, for example, and another member of my social group happened to take offence to that remark, should the committee become involved?  Now, bear in mind that this remark has not made directly in reference to another member, but that this person has chosen to interpret it in a certain way.

I am well aware that sometimes the things I say may not be to everyone's taste. I know that sometimes the things I say are offensive, and I know that I say them to elicit a certain response or to start an open discussion.  I will not apologise for being this way, or for saying the things I say.  Nor will I pander to the feelings of other people who happen to disagree with my sentiments.  Of course, that isn't to say that I don't listen or take on board what other people think, feel, or say - on the contrary, in order to have a rounded opinion on any matter, one has to listen to many well rounded arguments and points of view.  I proudly defend all of our right to free speech, and will not apologise for the things I say.  I'm not sorry if I offend.  No one is asking you to agree with the things I say. Nor is anyone making you read it.

Amazingly enough, the incident that sparked this writing does not directly involve me, or anything I have put in the public domain.  This stems from the execrable behaviour of a group of outdated, boorish, puffed-up, self absorbed people who think they are the moral authority on all things great and good, when in fact they serve on a panel alongside like-minded trolls whom, it would appear, believe it their divine right to police the personal websites of those who elected them.

So an ambiguous remark on a personal Twitter feed is then turned into an allegation of bullying. 

Then the person fuelling the flames of these allegations is guilty of the very thing s/he is alleging.

Furthermore, it transpires that s/he is a member of the same committee passing judgment on the person accused of bullying in the first instance.  Am I the only person having a bit of problem with this whole shebang?

When you give monkeys power, they're still monkeys. And monkey is as monkey does.

I'm certain that the people I'm talking about won't have the faintest idea that I'm talking about them, because they're too absorbed in their pathetic little power trips to take note of anything that us mere minions are doing.  They would do well to take note, though.

What I put on my personal Twitter feed is my business.  If you don't like my business, don't read about it.  If you do read about it, and you feel the need to manipulate it into something that offends you, don't expect me to justify it.  Don't be so silly as to think the attention and support of a group of vacillators will somehow prevent you being offended in future, or that their supercilious finger-wagging is miraculously going to stop me from posting the things I want to post - yes, even if you find it offensive.

Real people deal with their issues with other people face to face, by behaving like adults.  I'm 33. I don't need a mediator telling me what they think the other person needs to hear because I don't say the things I say to make anyone feel better. 

I am able to decide for myself what I wish for people to read or hear.  I leave it at your discretion whether or not you wish to read or hear it.

Ultimately, that is exactly what I'm talking about.

Monday 11 October 2010

Tory Cuts. Labour Cunts. Malingerers.

So, now that the dust has settled a little bit after Mr Cameron and company announced last week that there are going to be cuts to the benefit system, I am now going to tell the world how I see things.

It's all very well for young Ed Miliband and his co-wankers to bang on about what's fair and what isn't, but none of his horse shit changes the fact that the previous government - the one that he and his lizardesque brother served in - are ultimately responsible for the monumental pile of shite that we're all wading through at the moment.  The fact that anyone still listens to them at all after the mess they left us all in never ceases to amaze me.

To me, it's very simple.  People who can't be bothered to get of their fat lazy arses and go to work should be made to work for their dole money. There's plenty they could do in all of our local communities to brighten the place up. I can think of lots of things like: clearing up dog shit and chewing gum. Removing graffiti, sweeping streets, helping old biddies with their shopping and such.

All these twats who bang on about how they're 'better off not going to work because I 'earn' more on benefits' will soon be whistling a different tune when they finally realise that you get nothing in this life for sitting around sponging from the rest of us.  Amazing how those who stand to lose the most appear to be the ones making the most noise. They're the same people who don't know what it's like to do a day's work, or have at the very least forgotten.

It absolutely disgusts me that people think it's okay for the rest of us to pay their way.  It's legalised bloody theft, if you ask me.  It's not a bloody Giro these wankers need, it's a good kick up the sodding arse.

It's all so bloody simple. If you're earning 44k per year... you don't need child support, and to my mind it's nothing short of fucking criminal to deny this. 

If you happen to be a rich pensioner, you don't need a winter fuel payment, or a free bus pass, or a free TV Licence.

And if you can walk, there's no reason why you're sat at home on your fat malingering workshy arses while Local Authorities could be making better use of your time than it would appear you're able to. 

Yes, start means testing people. Do it!  What are you frightened of? Someone finding out that you'll actually be okay without getting handouts from a Government that has inherited an economy totally crippled by socialist overspending and borrowing.

Times are fucking hard.  Deal with it.  Don't be so bloody stolid and at least have the good sense to recognise that Labour put us here. If you're looking to apportion blame, blame those who fucked the whole thing up, not those who are trying to un-fuck it.