Even if the Israeli Deputy Health Minister Yakov Litzman thinks the name swine flu is offensive, and if he does I’d question exactly where his priorities actually lie, I’m certain of one thing; human beings are a skittish bunch.
So I have three words of advice. Are you ready for them?
Stop fucking panicking.
Thus ends this public service announcement.
Now as anybody that knows me will readily admit, money and me don’t get on. I don’t respect it and it does its best to get away from me as quickly as possible, complicit in this little game are the banks, so consequently I’m not a fan of them either.
However they have a place in the world and without them we’d be pretty fucked, that much is true. If we want to change the banking system we need to make sure it’s equitable and fair, with no ridiculous APRs (60% anyone?) and no ludicrous charging models (£25 per infraction, come on!).
What we don’t need to do is smash up a bank in Threadneedle Street under the misguided illusion that it’s political activism, it’s not you stupid bitch it’s criminal damage.
That’s not really the way to get the message across is it? People see smashed glass and broken bits of computer and immediately you’ve lost all credibility. It might be that you have any number of amazing points to make about the banking system and how it should be changed but because of what you’ve just done you’re just another lout.
That’s part of the problem though isn’t it? How do you get your message across? Where is the forum for debate?
Well of course there isn’t one. So you get rebellious teenage girls, who’re under some illusion that they’re the bastard love child of Che Guevara and Jeanne d’Arc, smashing up banks.
Saddest part of it is is that she’s being misled by a group of people (the people she more than likely shares her Brighton squat/commune/double decker bus on bricks with) who have as much of an agenda as the bankers and politicians she despises. She’s as much a pawn in their game as she is The Man’s.
Silly girl.
I joined Twitter about a year ago and used to really enjoy using it, making the occasional little update here and there, reading my friends updates, engaging in some funny banter, that sort of thing.
Then the celebrities arrived.
The sheer volume of tweets that the likes of Jonathan Ross and Stephen Fry post is ridiculous. When you’re reading your Twitter feed on an iPhone and out of all the updates you get ninety five percent of them come from Jonathan Ross and each of those is in reply to some unseen comment, then you get really bored, really quickly.
The Twitter-shitters are one thing but at least they’re funny and/or interesting. It’s when the boring, band wagon jumpers get on board that you have to start worrying. Enter Chris Moyles self styled saviour of Radio One.
Chris Moyles is the least amusing man on the planet but, as I am certain he would point out to me, he does earn way more money than me. I’m fairly certain he’d follow that keen observation up with something about my poxy blog and lack of a breakfast radio show. I guess it’s these two things that makes him think people care about what he has to say.
His show bores me, he bores me and I’m really not interested in anything he has to say so why would I want his boorish, obnoxious musings when I’m on the move? Not only that but everytime he says twittering instead of tweeting (which he does a fair amount on the half hour monologue he does every fucking morning) he’s getting it wrong. No surprise there though is there?
The long and short of it is that I’m going off Twitter, where I was once a staunch advocate. Still I intend to keep tweeting just a little bit longer just to see what happens, I’ve removed all the celebs though, well except Stephen Fry, how could I?
I snapped this while I was out getting some coffee the other day.
Hen do’s seem to be viewed as a great excuse for overweight heifers to trot around cities they’d never normally dare visit, dressed like chubby prostitutes, shouting their fat northern mouths off and generally indulging in their usual small town, gobshite behaviour, just on a bigger canvas.
There are normally an abundance of cock shaped novelty items floating around too.
Oh and just before any smart arse (Tony I’m looking at you) decides to put a comment on this page about my apostrophe use in ‘do’s’, I’ve checked before.
It’s acceptable as typographical embellishment to add clarity.
So there.
I feel compelled to complain to the BBC about the cruel mockery, in Fawlty Towers, of Spanish speaking migrant workers.
It is high time that the BBC prevented this sort of thing from happening in the past.
Clearly I would have complained at the time of broadcast back in 1975 but I was not aware of the outrage I would have felt, had I been watching it then, up until recently, when I saw a rerun on UK Gold.
From what I understand it was originally screened on BBC Two in the early evening. This is entirely unacceptable in my opinion.
I demand that the creator of this racist filth and anyone involved in its portrayal be executed and that the BBC pay Spain a fine of at least €1,000,000.
This is probably the only thing that would enable me to sleep at night knowing that racist, so called, ‘comedy’ like this had at some point been created.
What’s more Aubrey Singer, who I believe was controller of BBC Two at the time, should be exhumed and his corpse made to give a public apology.
Death cannot be tolerated as an excuse for allowing this sort of filth onto our television screens 33 years ago.
It is high time the BBC and its disgusting former performers and controllers realised that the very fabric of space and time itself is liable to rip apart should this sort of thing be allowed to happen at unspecified dates in the past.
I’ve always liked reading Edge, it’s got a more mature outlook on gaming and treats it with the same level of respect that film critics treat their field.
This does of course lead to outrageously pretentious bollocks making its way from mind to paper. Witness this belter from a review of Motorstorm: Pacific Rift where, what they are trying to say is that the ground textures are a little indistinct and are made worse by the use of motion blur.
…which blend into amorphousness mere metres ahead. The problem is only exacerbated by excessive motion blur, further serving to muddy the aesthetic…
Oh, do fuck off.
The writer here clearly felt they had to embellish their writing to the point that it was practically unintelligible.
I like reading Edge but it does have a habit of pulling shit like this from time to time. At least it’s better than Gmaes™ which seems to desperately avoid proof reading and basic grammar in favour release deadlines.
I’ve just received this email in to the mailbox I set up for photos from Lou and Andy’s wedding.
I think it’s safe to say I’m never going to have to work again!
GET BACK TO ME.ASAP
Greetings of the day to you, although you may be skeptical receiving this email as we have not met before, I am Mr. Song Lile I work with Hang Seng Bank Ltd., nevertheless I have a business proposition involving the sum of $24,500,000.00usd in my bank which I know we will be of mutual benefit to both of us, and I believe we can handle together, once we have a common understanding and mutual cooperation in the execution of the modalities.
Should you be interested, please forward the following to me: 1.Full names, 2.Occupation, 3.Private phone number, 4.Current residential address. Via this email address:mr_li.song@yahoo.com.hk Your earliest response to this mail will be highly appreciated Song Lile.
So long suckers, I’m off to make a cool $12m.
Who actually falls for this bullshit? I mean really? Who?
If you want to do this sort of thing Mr Song Lile brush up on your fucking English and your letter writing skills.
As you may have noticed from my recent tweets I’ve just spent most of today sitting in airports and scooting up and down the country in a jet.
Before we get ahead of ourselves, when I say scooting up and down the country in a jet I don’t want anyone picturing Led Zeppelin groupie molestation style craziness or any fighter pilot nonsense.
No, no. I mean getting on a flight at the crack of dawn with other earnest young business men to fly to Edinburgh and then getting back on the reverse flight later that day.
Nothing even vaguely cool. Regardless though it’s not the jet bit that’s of interest, it’s the airports.
When Obi-Wan Kenobi (you might know him as old Ben) says: ‘Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.’, he’d clearly never been to East Midlands Airport at five in the morning.
Fuck me! I’ve never seen such a bedraggled bunch of scummy, fake Louis Vuitton toting, Crocs wearing, inbred half wits.
Every single one of them off to the sun to get shit faced, shag other equally unattractive bottom feeders and return home crawling with STDs, happy that they’d had a splendid time.
I’ll say it again because it bears repeating, it was five in the morning. Five in the morning and I saw people drinking Guinness.
I counted three hen parties and two stag do’s. I’m sure there were countless others it was just that I couldn’t help but notice the stag do’s because of their ‘Boys On Tour’ rugby shirts and the hens thanks to their ever so tasteful penis shaped deely-boppers.
There was also a birthday party flying out to Malaga. They were lovely. Over the strains of Metallica’s latest opus I discovered that Angela was ’shagging her man’s best friend’, that her sister thought (in a sing song voice) she was going to get caught out and that ‘her Mam had give her £150′.
Remember that I heard this over the Metallica that was playing through my headphones. I could hear these people discuss their private lives over the sound of heavy metal. Classy.
What does it say about society that when I was called to board at 06:40 I had to ask people to excuse me to get through the queue for the bar?
Good grief, I like a drink but who in their right mind wants to drink Heineken for breakfast?
We have though, yeah? If you haven’t it’s an experience you really ought to have had.
Your house mates (or room mates as our American cousins would have it) can really get on your tits. Whether they leave every utensil in the house covered in melted on, bright orange cheese, stroll around the house in only a towel or shit in the bathroom sink (true story, ask me about Nigel) we grow to hate those close to us in some way, at some point.
That’s why this YouTube video is so good.
Seemingly this guy’s house mate had been getting up early in the morning, going to college and slamming the door on his way out. Getting sick of this thoughtless behaviour our erstwhile auteur decided to enact a little revenge.
Roommate Revenge Buttered Floor - Watch more free videos
Priceless.
So we’ve made it onto our cruise ship and it’s full of fat people and stupid people. Still it’s a break from the norm and who knows I might even get a tan.
I’ve been reminded by a couple of things today, that in the event of an emergency it won’t be any of my actions that will cause me to die, it’ll be other people. I’ll tell you for why.
At 16:30 today we had the mandatory ship evacuation drill. There were three rules.
Fairly straight forward, no?
Still, what did about 50% of these chunky, brain dead bastards manage to do?
That’s right, scramble about the corridors in any old fashion headed for the first muster station they saw, with their life jackets on.
For fuck’s sake people it’s not difficult, just follow the instructions, they were clear enough.
I fear for my safety in the event of a proper evacuation, everyone of these bloody idiots will panic and start waving their flabby arms around and the whole system will fall apart.
God help us all.
Nottingham station is currently undergoing a bit of refurbishment, consequently helpful signs have appeared dotted about, warning us busy commuters of the dangers of restricted access to footbridges and the like.
It was with great ire that I spotted one the other day at said:
Keep to left
Footbridge Access
as been moved
Now, aside from the bizarre use of capitalisation and the lack of the definite article before ‘left’, the wordsmith behind this piece of free form poetry masquerading as a sign, has committed one of the most irritating modern sins.
That sin is using ‘as’ when they mean ‘has’. For fuck’s sake, honestly how hard is it?
Before I boil up again I must reveal the silver lining behind this grubby, laminated cloud. There were two signs! The second had been helpfully annotated.
I’m not alone!
I’ve always loved Clive James’ writing style. This just confirms what I’d always thought.
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