Where's Grandad?

Little Johnny was lost in a large shopping mall.

He ran up to a policeman and said, "I've lost my grandad!"

The policeman asked: "What's he like?"

Little Johnny replied "Famous Grouse and women with big tits".

Innocent Smut

There's nothing like a bit of innocent smut to get old ladies giggling.

I played Bantam Cock at the club last night. Two old ladies at the back were nudging each other with their elbows and giggling through the whole thing.

Priceless.

Climate Rant

Please excuse me a a rant on the same subject as yesterday's post, but that's what blogs are for isn't it? Partly?

Anyway, if the scientists (except Bellamy) are right, then it's bloody important. More important than any issue facing the world today. More important than famine. More important than terrorism. More important than the type of pretzel that George Bush chokes on. That's bloody important.

If they're not right, then we can all relax and go back to squandering the fossil fuels. All we have to worry about are the wars when the stuff runs out. The Americans will be on our side. And they'll win.

Personally, I think the scientists are right. I also think there is absolutely bugger-all we, or anyone else can do about it. Things have gone too far already. That's not to say that we shouldn't try, but nothing seems likely to succeed (including mass installation of wind farms. I actually agree with Bellamy on that point).

I have kids and like any parent, want a decent life for the ungrateful bastards, but it doesn't look hopeful.

So we make gestures: recycling our bottles; selling our cars; changing our lifestyles so that we're seen as cranks . Maybe, just maybe, this will wake people up. A pitiful hope.

At least we'll be able to say "I told you so".

I wish I was wrong, or had someone to convince me I'm wrong.

Has David Bellamy Gone Mad?

It seems that not all scientists agree on the causes of global warming. David Bellamy and his other high-profile cohort Bernard Ingham are the staunchest opposers to wind power and wind farms. Wherever in the country planning is requested, you can bet this duo turns up to turn it down, and all in the cause of the environment.

The scientific argument must be won before the political arguments can even start. If these guys can't agree, what chance is there?

It may be arrogant to think that man can change earth's climate, but I'm prepared to believe that mass destruction of the rainforests and the burning within 50 years, of oil and gas that has been under the ground for millions might, just might, ruin the earth's climate.

I desperately hope I'm wrong.

Jogger's What?

This is very personal.

Some of you may have read a previous post on Jogger's Nipple. This is caused by said nip rubbing on wet shirt, causing it to bleed. The cure for this is a dab of trusty Vaseline.

Monday evening, I had a tad too much red wine with some friends. Tuesday lunchtime, I went for a 4.3 mile run. It was hell. Being a stubborn bastard, I kept going though my legs, chest and body generally were telling me to stop.

The odd thing is that now I have a nasty blood stain on my running shorts, right where the Old Man hangs about. I'm sure it's blood and it seems to have come from inside of the shorts (erm, I don't wear underwear when I'm running).

The thing is, the nipple analogy would mean abrasion on the Todger which I suspect would be desperately uncomfortable. A close examination reveals nothing, and I feel fine. The only conclusion I can come to is that blood actually came down the John Thomas while I was running using the route that piss normally takes.

I'm puzzled by this Marge, should I get help?

Citius Altius Fortius

The Olympics are upon us.

Whilst I generally enjoy the orgy of sport, there are too many events.  The Olympic Motto: Citius Altius Fortius means Faster, Higher, Stronger.  An admirable motto and one they should stick to. 

I can't be the only one to welcome the removal of (among others):

• Gymnastics (those precocious little girls - yuk)
  
• Football (it's a joke - ask Sir Alex)
  
• Tennis (same as football)
  
• Hockey
  
• Beach Volleyball (nice to watch though)
  
• That business where the horse walks backwards - Dressage I think

And let's not mention synchronised swimming.

Au Revoir

Sacha Distel

Sacha Disappointment

RIP

New Shoes

On Saturday, in the sale, I bought myself a pair of shoes. They're Clark's and a fine pair. The left one is size 8-and-a-half; the right is size 9-and-a-half.

I won't say they fit perfectly, but they were only £4.99. I couldn't resist.

It wasn't just for the bargain. It was for the sentimental attachment to the Marian Keyes half-story "A Woman's Right to Shoes" that I nearly completed, but didn't.

You'll have to read it to understand what I'm on about.

Celebrity Chef

My friend told me this, so it must be true:

He bought some sausages with a picture of Antony Worrall Thompson on the packet. Appropriately, below this was printed:

"prick with a fork"

Armstrong Where are You?

On the day that the remarkable Lance Armstrong takes hold of Le Tour, we should not forget his namesake.

It is exactly 35 years ago today that Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon.

By now we were supposed to be taking holidays there; "A giant leap for mankind"; a solution to world poverty and conflict; a cure for cancer.

What happened?

Nothing. I'm surprised our kids believe us when we tell them it happened. They may not (it may not, but that's another post). They may bracket the whole thing along with other fairy tales such as God and Father Christmas. Technology has never been more of a disappointment.

Lance will leave a bigger mark than Neil.

If Only...

You may have heard this on Radio 5 this morning.  If so, I apologise.  It tickled me.

If only Isla St Clair (remember her?) had married Barry White and, after he died, remarried Bryan Ferry, she would have been...

Isla White Ferry

Erratum

Re previous post, I've just realised that I've wrongly anagrammed Michael's name.  It should be "Buerk".

This is opposed to "Berk" as in rhyming slang "Berkshire Hunt".

That's me!

I hope this error didn't spoil your enjoyment of the post.

The "Oh Shit" Moment

I had an "Oh Shit!" moment on Saturday.
 
My wife is off camping with the kids next week.  She needs to tow a trailer and her car didn't have a towbar.  Being a tight-fisted git, I decided that I would save money and fit one myself.  It can't be that difficult can it?
 
One Ebay transaction later, I was the proud owner of a Renault Espace towbar kit, complete with electrics.  I set about reading the instructions:
 
1. Remove the spare wheel.
 
Oh dear!  This Renault Espace doesn't have a spare wheel.  It has an LPG tank in its place.  I figured that fitting the towbar was impossible without removing the cradle around the "spare wheel" tank.
 
Undeterred, I set about lowering the "spare wheel" in the normal way.  To my delight, the tank stayed where it was while the cradle was lowered.  Initially at least.
 
Then "CLANK", the entire tank fell out of the vehicle, still attached to copper gas pipes.  Worse still, the bloody thing was hissing out LPG all over my driveway.
 
"Oh Shit!"
 
This is just the sort of thing I used to see on the "999" TV programme with Michael Burke saying "Look what some tosser has done this week".
 
There was nothing for it.  I dialled 999 and called out the Fire Brigade.  Ten minutes later, eight strapping blokes turned up, sirens wailing.  They were quite good about it.  Apparently, they deal with prats like me every day of the week.
 
Luckily the leak had stopped, so they just sat around for a bit drinking tea and chatting about the weather.  I've got the local garage to re-fit the tank and I managed to complete the towbar installation.
 
It looks a treat.
 
Meanwhile, if you see a Renault Espace indicating left with its trailer indicating right, keep your distance.  It might explode.

Bloggers

I have updated my favourite blog list on the sidebar.
 
Thanks to you all for keeping me going.

The Joy of Sport

I know some of my blogging friends don't get it (sport that is).
 
I took my son yesterday after work to see the 20-20 match Gloucestershire vs Warwickshire.  The weather was grim: light so bad you could hardly see the ball, strong wind, drizzle in the air, and it was bloody cold.  Still, that's why we love it here.
 
The match was exciting though.  It all came down to the last ball.  The scores were tied on 135 each.  Nobody seemed to know the result until the Tannoy Man said that Gloucestershire had lost on account of having lost more wickets in their innings.  Boos all round.
 
A bloke yesterday at the Open (I can't remember his name) hit a hole-in-one.  Apparently it was a crap shot from the tee, miles off course.  It bounced off a tree, onto the green and into the hole; first bounce.
 
He won an Audi TT.

Don't Vote for Him

Sorry to bash on about this, but I'm angry. Very angry. Writing it down makes me feel better.

Get TB or any of his cronies to disagree with a single word of the following:

• Fact: The intelligence was wrong.
  
• Fact: Before the war TB knew the intelligence was at the least very dodgy. Hans Blix told him. When they sent Hansy Baby's team in, they didn't go for the least promising sites did they? They went for the "dead certs". The top of the list. They found nothing.
  
• Fact: TB presented distorted and misleading information in the so called intelligence dossier.
  
• Fact: We went to war and over 11,000 innocent people died.
  
• Fact: TB is still in power, thinking he's some kind of Saint Francis of A fucking ssisi.
  

Don't come back to this site ever again if you vote for him or his party. Make one Tony feel better by not voting for another.

I feel better now. Thanks.

The Butler Report

It's out today (not yet). Who will resign over it? Probably more of the media.

I tell you what I'd ask Mr Blair if I had a chance to interview him. My very first question would be "In the government's estimate Prime Minister, how many Iraqi civilians have been killed in the latest war in Iraq?"

TB (The Bastard) wouldn't answer, but I'd politely press him:

"A rough estimate?, 1,000?, 10,000?, 100,000? Any idea?"

He still wouldn't answer and maybe say that there is no government official estimate.

Well this is the whole point Mr Blair, the whole fucking point. Well as you don't know, I'll tell you. The fully ratified and itemised figure is between 11,000 and 13,000.

There's no point carrying on with this interview Mr Blair until your gob says that number.

Say it, so that we can hear you for once. Say it!

Such Cruelty!

As from today, it's illegal to win a goldfish at a fayre because it's cruel to animals.

However, it's still ok to set dogs after foxes to tear them apart in the name of sport.

Before you start, I live in deepest rural Gloucestershire and have done for over twenty years.

So there!

Le Jog

Regular readers will remember the sponsored drive from Land's End to John O'Groats without refuelling.

We raised an amazing £1,263.68. The Bristol Bone Marrow Transplant Unit and the Bristol Children's Cardiac Ward are both very grateful. I particularly like the thought of two nurses going to the BMT European Conference in Prague on the proceeds. I hope they also get off their heads on cheap lager and get f***ed senseless by some Bouncing Czech.

When I examine my own motives for doing it, raising money for good causes is pretty low on the list. They are, in order:

1. Because I love driving places, watching the world go by, the changing scenery
   
2. Because my friend Dave died and I wanted his friends to realise what we thought of him
   
3. Because I wanted to see if a clapped out 100,000 mile Renault Espace could be so frugal
   
4. Because of a personal reason I won't go into here
   
5. Because I wanted to go to see the Strathy House Hotel again
   
6. Because I wanted to raise money for a good cause
   

Thanks to everyone anyway.

Birdman Has Flown

The Birdman has gone.

I've lost the will to blog.

The Olympics are Coming

Sad git that I am, I feel a little bit lost now that Wimbledon and the footie are finished.

Still, the Olympics are coming. That's if Greece can stop partying and get ready in time.

Jonathan Edwards won't be there. At least I don't think he will be. Still I always thought he had an unfair advantage; what with God helping him the way he does.

By the way, whatever happened to the "double jump"?

What Would You Say?

What is it about Swindon? When I go there I am struck by the number of young girls pushing prams and left wondering whether they are elder sisters.

Apparently not.

From Sunday's Telegraph:

"Girls as young as 14 are seeking fertility treatment on the NHS because they have been unable to become pregnant after up to two years of sexual activity without contraception.

The Telegraph has learned that in one clinic in Swindon four girls aged 14 were so desperate to have a baby that they asked whether they could receive treatments such as In Vitro Fertilisation (IVF)."

If I worked in the clinic and a fourteen year old asked me for fertility treatment, I don't know what I'd say. I'd probably send the stupid cow for sterilization telling her "This'll do it, and if it doesn't work, we'll send you again".

The Power of Communications

I see that the Chinese authorities are worried about the proliferation of text messages.

As well they might be.

Totalitarian regimes surely cannot persist if too many people have mobile phones and access to the Internet. Any attempt to censor messages, like stopping Internet copying (see Wednesday's blog) will prove fruitless.

The Telecommunications industry could do more to alleviate global warming and climate change than the oil, gas, and automobile industries combined by facilitating e-business and reducing the need to travel. It would require governments to subsidise the industry, but I guess they don't because they're worried about the text messages.