Jonny

The Parting

2006-11-11T00:50:00.000Z

We depart, we separate, it was always going to be this way, inevitable in its own way, but the pain is still there, still real, still… these things happen; two people meet, they talk, they get on, they become lovers and then, they separate. The funny thing is, no matter how many times you go through it, it still hits you like a sledgehammer every time.

John Lennon once said “Love is the answer, and we know that for sure.” Well Groucho Marx – oft paired with Lennon due to their communist names – quipped “I could never belong to a club that would accept me as a member” and I must say I am inclined to side with the theorist over the practitioner.

Singing

2006-08-31T22:07:00.000+01:00

I was just walking backwards for Christmas when I realised that I very seldom spontaneously burst into song, this is a shame as I actually rather like spontaneously bursting into song; I find, as I am sure you do to, that when I burst, spontaneously into song I find myself totally oblivious to all that’s going on around me, my world is transmogrified when I burst into song spontaneously, indeed famous demagogues, Hitler, Napoleon and Pope Benedict to name but three, could be doing their stuff right next to me but if I was, at that moment, bursting spontaneously into song, then the likelihood is that their demagogic words and actions would have no impact on me whatsoever.

With this problem straightened out in my head, I began walking forwards for Easter, I always find walking forward for Easter easier than walking backwards for Christmas, I don’t think it’s a racial thing, I have great respect for followers of Christmas, as indeed I do for the followers of Easter, its just that if you’re walking backwards it’s much harder to see where you’re going and there is every chance you’ll be hit by a bus; anyway it was while walking forward for Easter that I was stabbed in the back by a chap who mistook my actions for those of his heavily bearded former wife walking backwards for Christmas, as such I have re-assessed my philosophy for walking the streets of London; I have now decided that I should take the advice of Tony Blair and look for a third way, after some dedicating some time thinking about the matter I have decided to walk sideways for Passover.

Ashley Cole a poove? Who can say, but think of the movie rights…

2006-08-15T21:35:00.000+01:00

There have been many famous homosexuals throughout history; Robert the Bruce, King Henry the eighth and Lady Macbeth being chief amongst those absent from the list: now we have to consider the case for adding famed poove Ashley Cole to the list. For some time Fleet Streets finest (sic) have implied that he is not the most willing to clench his buttocks when a rock hard cock is in attendance, but his recent marriage gives a convenient opportunity to reassess his case: QC M. Bladger, of Bladger, Bladger, Bladger and Crillings, prosecuting drew my attention to several factors over lunch; firstly he notes that the defendant has a habit of wearing outlandish clothing, something he assures me is a known trait of buggers in legal circles, he also cites the evidence of a reputable tabloid newspaper – well a tabloid newspaper, which paints the diseased in a very queer light. The News Of The World, which cannot be read for legal reasons, alleged that the defender liked to be buggered senseless after a football match by any willing team-mate available. Further Bladger reminded me that many players of the pink oboe have married ‘glamorous’ women to disguise their depraved habits. In closing Mr Bladger drew my attention to the queen like behaviour the deceased has exhibited in his fall out with The Arsenal. Bladger noted that while Arsenal had acted in a manor one would expect of a club of their gentlemanly standing, Cole was still able to accuse them of treating him shabbily for only paying him £70,000 per week and not firing him for breaking the rules of his contract by speaking to a rival club.

So how about the case for the defence? Ms David Cribbings, of Walker, Walker, Grotter and Cribbings, who was wrestling on his favourite pair of pink fishnet stockings at the time, had her sectary, Miriam, hand me a recording of a hand written note, the transcribed contents are displayed in a more agreeable format below:

The wind knocks his window, the room it is wet.
The words to say he’s sorry, I haven't found yet.
I think of her often and hope whoever he's met
Will be fully aware of how precious she is.

Not only is this a paraphrased version of a verse from a well known song; but it is also gibberish as a defence for a man who stands accused of poovish tendencies. In light of the inadequacy of Miss Cribbings as either a viable human being or even a defence lawyer, I am unable to reach a verdict that can go on public record insofar as the buggery charges Frau Cole is facing are concerned; all I can safely say is: Ashley Cole, like him or loathe him, you’d be mad to like him…

The Day Today

2006-07-26T21:20:00.000+01:00

Two-hundred and thirteen years ago to-day Lord Bromley Crockington-Smith was hanged for attempted suicide; three years later war was to ravage Europe. But we are not here today to dwell on the past.

To-day England, and the metropolis in particular, was sweltering quite unlike to-day in 1793, when Lord Bromley was hanged, the sky was black and the wind was foul. Lord Bromley was not hanged in the metropolis of course, that would be silly – however his attempted suicide did involve the metrop. in a round about way. You see Lord Bromley – Brommers – felt a sudden urge when he saw a speeding stagecoach approach, this was the London special bound for London. Brommers, or Lord Crockington-Smith as he was referred to by the judge, leapt in front of the lead horse in the hope he would be dashed to death. Unfortunately he had his pet mouse in his coat pocket which escaped and frightened the lead horse, who had long suffered from Elephantitus, the well known mental condition which leaves the patient thinking it is an Elephant. After the Stagecoach had about-turned leaving Brommers muddied, but ultimately alive – until the thin-blue-line caught up with him and had him up on a charge of attempted suicide. The judge, naturally, found in favour of the truth and strung him up.

Anyway I fear I have quite lost the thrust of this passage, think I was going to say something about the weather or running or something, so I will drop anchor here and leave you to your supper, oh Mr. Johnson of 342 Arsenic Way, Swindon; probably better if you check your soup carefully as I saw your wife slip some broken glass in earlier – I did warn you not to take out that life insurance policy…

Ran London

2006-07-17T18:30:00.000+01:00

I did my race on Sunday; very respectable time of 22:21 (average speed of some 13.5km/h). Considering that I have only been distance running for just over a month I am fairly happy with this! I had hoped to get under 25 minutes - which was a conservative target, but I was mitigating for the heat!

While doing the run I met Paula Radcliff and was able to observe her running style for a couple of minutes while she over-took me. She was terribly sweet after the race and was even good enough to sign my t-shirt (although now I am a little concerned that it will come out if I wash it).

I have another race on the 8th October; this one is 10km and I am collecting money for charity http://www.justgiving.com/johnnyjames all donations will be gratefully received!

JA

Tennis

2006-07-13T18:25:00.000+01:00

This picture was one of the winners in a BBC young photographers award - you'll not be suprised to hear that the winner was a boy! I can only imagine that the panel of judges was male too...

JA

I try to live as much of my life as possible in my mind, but it's so hard to get a good steak there...

2006-07-09T13:21:00.000+01:00

Love

2006-06-29T20:12:00.000+01:00

Love is a strange thing when you consider it: it is possible to love someone so deeply that you hate the idea of them being with someone else so much that you would rather they were dead. The saying ‘You only hurt the ones you love’ works both ways because the only people with the power to hurt you – on a physiological level at least – are the ones you love. For this reason if someone says “You really hurt me” it’s fair to expect some bed based lovin’!

JA

I'm sailing away my one true love...

2006-05-31T13:50:00.000+01:00

Cock Botteling

2006-05-29T14:30:00.000+01:00

There is a new craze sweeping the county from the North: Cock Botteling. This is where young people attempt to place their cocks in somebodys bottle with out them noticing. I do not have details at the moment, but will revert when I get more in.

Photo's

2006-05-26T20:55:00.000+01:00

Food Now Isn't For The Birds

2006-05-08T19:50:00.000+01:00

In a typical Labour 'control freak' move we are now not allowed to feed pigeons. This is just the type of Orwellian mesure that we can be rid of should we vote Blue to think Green! I am not a fan of the flying rats, however I take against people who tell me I can not do something.

London Blogger

2006-05-08T18:50:00.000+01:00

I am now a London Blogger, you can find me under Brixton and Aldgate East.

See icon at the bottom left of this page.

JA

Treason @ The Polls?

2006-05-05T19:35:00.000+01:00

When a specific sub-section of society deliberately obstructs the will of the people are we beholden to act? This is the question facing legal minds across the country today after the people of the North – many of whom are imagined to lack a basic grasp of the English language – once more rejected modern Britain by refusing to vote for the new model environmentally friendly Conservative party in yesterdays local elections. In the south we see the affects of Labour every day; the tracks of the District line have been expanding as a direct result of the current Labour government for the past two days, causing poor suffering moderate conservatives (notice the small ‘c’) massive inconvenience. I should make it very clear here that Mr. Blair is completely blameless for this; his New Labour concept would have been able to do wonderful things for the county had it not been for the Socialist – an ugly word but I fear the only one appropriate given the circumstances – element that lurks in the shadowy recesses that make up the far left. Poor Mr Blair has been hampered at every turn by militant back benchers who almost to a man read the Guardian; to vent his frustrations he has been forced to undertake an affair with a married man from Texas and take the country to war in the Middle East.

Now that we in the south have realised that Mr Blair is going to give up his righteous quest imminently we have been forced to find a new leader who will lead the county into a new age; here we have been lucky, Mr Cameron, or simply Dave to us in the city, has been wonderful. He has made the country believe in it’s self again. We now know that we can be both responsible and environmentally friendly and more importantly it doesn’t have to be painful like the smelly people of the so called green party would have us believe. Under the Vote Blue, Think Green movement we can rest easy in the knowledge that our local authorities are doing the work for us! Since Cameron came to power I have done my bit too, I have switched to organic milk and now even have an environmentally friendly job. These things are not difficult to achieve either, you pay a few pence more for your milk and take a job that saves the environment. While some might find themselves less well off financially, everyone will be better off spiritually and come on, that is the most important area to be well off!

The great shame is that the Northern gas guzzlers are too materialistic to realise this. Luckily plans are a-foot to have them up on charges of treason, current legal opinion suggests that while we live in a country where you are free to vote for who ever you wish, when your vote is either clearly wrong – i.e. voting BMP or UKIP – or your vote is a deliberate attempt to obstruct the will of the people – viz not voting Blue, thinking Green – then you should be made to answer for your crime in a court of law. With the Law Lords expected to rule that not voting Conservative is a crime that should be punishable by hanging by Monday, we can expect these evil bastards to be answering for their hideous crimes with their lives by June.

Well renowned environmental lawyer Robert Groabling of Groabling, Groabling, Groabling and Scott (GGGS) confided to me over lunch today that he ‘can’t imagine any self respecting conservative voter committing an act that should be considered a crime in the eyes of an English court of law’ the consequences of this are obvious, once we have disposed of all people who don’t vote conservative, not only will the will of the people be guarantied but crime will be eliminated, save for when Johnny foreigner comes to town!

Standing on the Sholders of Groucho Marxs & Woody Allen

2006-04-26T20:25:00.000+01:00

If you have heard this before I am not surprised and make no apology; I know I had heard it before when I heard it recently, if not I had had the thought myself. It is a joke or at least flippant comment, attributed to Groucho Marxs, used by Woody Allen and might even have Freudian routes. Before I start I should point out that on the whole I am quite an optimistic sort of person in most respects, always looking for the positive, but my mantra, if I am being honest and I think now is the time for honesty, would probably be something along the lines of ‘Always expect the worst, then if it doesn’t happen you’ll be happy’ or something along those lines. This all may seem to be a contradiction, and I concede that if I were to analyse myself – something I have no intention of doing by the way – I would probably discover a dominant oxymoronic streak, but then to look on the bright side that may well add to my charm (sic). Anyway I feel I might be in danger of losing the thread – and possibly my readership – so yes, the joke I alluded to in my opening salvo, as I have said it has been used by two giants for sure, and possibly used by a founding father of science, so it is fair to say that while I might be advised to use it with humility I am also using it in the knowledge that it is pure gold. The joke goes along these lines – I make no apology for paraphrasing here – I could never accept membership of any club or organisation that would knowingly admit me as a member. Like Allens’ character in ‘Annie Hall’ I am very uneasy when it comes to women, no let me rephrase that; I am very uneasy when it comes to romance and women. I am fine with women in a social setting, happy to make conversation and all that jazz, indeed compared to many I might be seen as rather good at it; but as soon as there is the slightest hint of a romantic angle in the air deep insecurities which our friend Freud would probably attribute to some incident in my childhood. You will be glad to hear that I have no intension of going into my childhood at this juncture, I am sure there are better ways to overcome these problems that by dredging up terrible memories like ones younger years, on the contrary I intend to examine the problem from an adult perspective, and moreover from the comfort of my own living room.

As the joke, or phrase or witticism or whatever you wish to define it as indicates, my problem lies with the fear of being associated with people who find me either interesting or attractive or worse both. This may sound crazy to you dear reader, but I should remind you that you are probably under my spell, and further more I should remind you that no one knows quite as well as me just what I am capable of. Unlike you, who read my blog every now and then, I have to live in my head for around 14 – 16 hours a day, more if you believe count the dreams my mind very possibly subjects me to during my daily eight hours… all this gives me a very real idea of what I am like, and hence as and when some fine filly shows an interest in me I am forced to give very serious consideration as to the potentially dilapidated state of her mind. Being the public spirited chap I am I have been forced to refer several potential mates to the loony bin for fear of what they might be capable of if allowed to roam loose amongst the vast populace.

Now I can hear you all shouting in unison “Why now Jonny, what moves you to tell us these thoughts now?” and it is a fair question. Let it not be said that I don’t respond to my public, here is the answer, be careful not to miss it as it is only short: the mating season. Yes that’s right, with spring not only in the air, but in the step of many a young man of twenty three, we have to consider this dangerous season; it can hardly have failed to leap to your attention that at this time of year there is a very real chance that another poor young lady might have to be consigned to the loony bin for the good of society at large; I will do my best you understand. For the greater good I will be condescending, rude and generally unpleasant, but women are clever beasts when it comes to these tricks, there is a real possibility that a young lady or two might see through these ruses and, quite naturally, fall h. over h. for me.

I will keep you updated.

JA

Arsenal are f*cking book!

2006-04-25T21:50:00.000+01:00

We are in the final of the Champions League! Come on The Arsenal! We are the greatest, what a great night, even though we were up against 12 men...

London Eye

2006-04-23T19:00:00.000+01:00

Introducing TSOGU

2006-04-22T22:45:00.000+01:00

Dear TSOGU member,

It is my great honour to introduce Britain’s Newest – and therefore greatest – political party. I am immensely proud to have been nominated as TSOGU’s first ever leader and hope to repay my parties faith by firmly establishing ourselves on the political map.

May I firstly remind you all of the enormity of the task that lies before us; since this countries voting laws were relaxed allowing all and sundry a hand on the rudder of this once great country it has been near impossible for any serious political outfit to gain power. The rapid loss of the empire is the pudding proof of this sorry state of affairs: recent years have seen the situation deteriorate, citizens openly read newspapers such as the Guardian, poofs are allowed into all the armed forces not just the Navy, and vast public donations to Africa have coincided with a 93 per cent increase in street crime – I’m sure you will agree the significance of this latest point.

This brings me on to the party who, on the face of it, would appear to be our greatest competitor; the Conservatives. All of our members are, or were, conservatives, we were all excited by the appointment of young Dave; indeed my personal approval of the man is available on this very site for all to see. However we are of the opinion that Dave has gone to far in some directions while failing to address the real problems facing this country. Mr Cameron spends far too much time worrying about trivial matters such as the environment and Africa, and not enough time worrying about the state of the Armed forces, our position in a new European order and most importantly planning to regain the commonwealth and suppress the working classes.

While we wish to stress that our policies are still in their infancy and subject to constant review and addition, we feel confident that the implementation of our core beliefs will improve the standard of living in the country for all. I would remind you all that details of our core policies are available in our Core Policy Document but I would very much like to share what I believe to be the three key policies that will really shake up this country for the better:

The power to shoot any Guardian reader on sight,
Immediate withdrawal from Iraq in order to concentrate on the imminent invasion of the Indian Subcontinent ,
Requirement for all voters to have completed a degree from a redbrick university or have a city job and to have been born either in the Home Counties or to good family.

We are sure you will agree that these policies are the kind of sensible decrees that will have an immediate effect on day to day life in this country; we feel that the great unwashed will not miss the right to vote – we will concede our voting rights in reality TV programs to show that we are able to make personal sacrifices – and the national pride gained from the new British Empire will more than make up for this. At this point I would like to bring this introduction to a close and direct any questions to our Media Spokesman Dave Miller, but first I would invite you to study the table included below detailing our hierarchy.

Hierarchy of TSOGU
Position	Individual
Leader	Me
Deputy Leader	Marcus Redford-Smith
Treasurer	Robert McDonald
Foreign Spokesman	Sir David Michaels
Defence Spokesman	Gen. Sir Arthur Creadwurth-Picklesworth
Home Affairs Spokesman	Michael Zuckerman
Sports Spokesman	Sir Paul Michaels-Scott
Media Spokesman	Dave Miller

Kindest regards,

John J Arundell
(President of the TSOGU party)

Helping The Natives Of Africa

2006-04-22T10:15:00.000+01:00

This is an open invitation to my readership to help raise fund to purchase farm land in Ethiopia. In doing so we hope to prove that land in Ethiopia can be verdant, this will be a great help to the peoples of the western world in that it will allow them to not give moneys to Africa with a clear conscience. While I admit that knight of the realm and well known Monday hater Bob Geldof might not be too happy at first, when he realises that he can use the free time he will be afforded to crank up his campaign to legalise murder by sniper rifle on Monday mornings he will no doubt be happy – well as happy as an Irish man can be at least.

So send your money, let us prove that the people of Africa are among the laziest people in the world, and then we can rid ourselves of all these dreadful people who read the Guardian and wang on about African debt! Please check back for details of fund raising events to be held in high profile locations this summer.

JA

Oiseau grippe

2006-04-16T17:35:00.000+01:00

Les craintes montent au-dessus de la prétendue grippe d''oiseau '; elle est largement cru qu'il y aura sous peu une pandémie, tuer probablement autant d'en tant que 50 million mondial, avec quelques experts prévoyant encore des nombres plus élevés. Effets sur des humains y a jusqu'ici peu clair car seulement l'Asie a été affectée jusqu'ici, et il sont les nombreuses barrières linguistiques empêchant la communication ; mais une chose est dégagez, cet oiseau que la grippe vous transformera en oiseau d'une certaine description. Amateur Les scientifiques chez un certain Polly abandoné par Dieu réclament que le type d'oiseau que vous tournerez dans dépend de votre âge et fond. Par exemple on pense des personnes âgées à soyez susceptible de se transformer en aigles chauves américains, alors que les personnes intelligentes pourraient jaillir deviennent les hiboux. Tandis que prompts les gens sont susceptibles de devenir des oiseaux de chasse, comme les crécerelles, et les étudiants de Polly peuvent se transformer en mésanges (aucun vrai changement là puis).Il y a du souci concernant la grippe d'oiseau atteignant des prisons, parce qu'il y a jusqu'ici aucunes mesures de détenir en place des pies. Les fonctionnaires en Italie seraient préparants pour inonder le marché avec les poulets bon marché pour Pâques si le virus atteint leurs forces armées...

JA

Bird flu

2006-04-14T00:15:00.000+01:00

Fears are rising over so called 'Bird' flu; it is widely believed that there will shortly be a pandemic, possibly killing as many as 50 million world wide, with some experts predicting even higher numbers. Effects on humans are as yet unclear as only Asia has been affected so far, and there are numerous language barriers inhibiting communication; but one thing is clear, that Bird flu will turn you into a bird of some description. Amateur Scientists at some God forsaken Polly claim that the type of bird you will turn into depends on your age and background. For example old people are thought to be likely to turn into American bald eagles, while clever people might well become owls. While speedy people are likely to become hunting birds, such as kestrels, and Polly students may turn into tits (no real change there then).There is some concern about Bird flu reaching prisons, because there are as yet no measures in place to detain magpies. Officials in Italy are said to be preparing to flood the market with cheap chickens for Easter if the virus reaches their armed forces...

Sir Stanley Morris talks candidly about his role on the European Anti Bird Flu Committee

2006-04-14T00:10:00.000+01:00

I haven’t posted for a while and I apologise, the first two weeks of the year have been a little hectic. Due to my vast wealth of experience with Penguins I have found myself in the enviable position of chairing the European bird flu committee. Negotiations are at a pretty advanced stage at the moment, us Brits have conceded some ground on the scope of biscuits that will be available during meetings in exchange for the French dropping their obstinate position on the maximum acceptable level of skirts worn by the committees female assistants. I was rather proud to be able to forge an Anglo-French alliance to nip the German sausage motion in the bud – what sort of race can really survive on beer and sausage alone? Its little wonder they managed to lose two world wars! While I am happy to report that the Spanish demand for a four hour nap every afternoon was given short shift by all the other nations. The committee has been able to reach the unanimous decision that the location for the committee meetings shouldn’t be Brussels; though as there is no sign of agreement on another location it looks as though Brussels will indeed become the compromise choice. I am happy to report that my years of Penguin flight research may finally find commercial use: my French counterpart Bruno H’avhuryon (pronounced I am told ‘ave-her-young) is most interested in using my pneumatic cannon launch technique as a means of delivering infected birds to areas where they will be unable to do harm. Mr. H’avhuryon assures me that the French government have identified heavily concreted areas near Paris as the perfect location for all of Europe’s diseased poultry – very good of them to rally round the cause in such a way I must say! To-morrow heralds our biggest decision to date; viz which of our number we will be sending on a fact finding mission to Turkey. The smart money in our syndicate is on the a Polish delegation, I can reveal that I have held talks with my German and French counterparts and we have agreed that it would be entirely ethical to imply that the Poles maybe eligible for a bigger share of the EU budget if they play ball here, and for all we know they might be – as I said to Wayne Rooney last time I had the pleasure of his company “Ignorance is bliss”.

Naturally I will attempt to update you on progress as and when time permits…

SM

The Human Condition

2006-04-13T20:50:00.000+01:00

The story of a human life can be almost as long or as short as the teller wishes to make it. Supplying a date of birth and a date of death gives the reader enough information to develop a history in their mind. For the vast majority of the billions of humans currently inhabiting this planet this kind of history would be more than adequate; there is little use in knowing details about these people’s mundane lives. Through out history this ‘history’ is all most people have been afforded, however with the advent of the internet, mass media and labour saving devices of the late twentieth century people not only have the means, but also – crucially – the time to construct their own life history.

This is not a good thing; there is too much information available. It is almost impossible to filter what is worthy of consideration from the vast amount of crap – an ugly word I know, but I fear the only one appropriate in this situation – that exists on the web. What possesses “Rob” from Washington, or “Alice” of Edinburgh, to write about there boring mundane day? The reason is apparent enough; humans, on the whole, have an inflated sense of their own importance. No doubt when these cretins write about their sad little lives, and how they spotted a pink carrier bag floating outside the window of their dreary little office, they honestly believe that people will be interested.

We have reached a situation where more is known about the life of Stan from Slough (a town Betjeman wanted bombed, and rightly so) than about Jesus Christ, who while you may more may not believe to be the son of God, was still one of the most important figures in the history of man kind, and moreover responsible for more deaths than any other figure. How can this be? How can we know more about a man who’s greatest achievement in life will probably be to become a father and make it to his pension (if he is lucky) than about one of the most important figures in history?

What is the solution: bomb Slough? Well it would be a worthy start, but it fails to address the real problem. Only a fundamental change in the human race can properly address this problem; bomb Slough by all means, and Birmingham, Manchester and Liverpool too if it makes you happy, but the problem can only be corrected by artificially altering the very thing that makes us human. It is often said that God made man in his own image, if this is true then we can deduce that God is egocentric and deeply insecure. To be fair the Jewish bible tells us this much already: God, the all powerful creator of men, constantly tests the obedience of his creations, making incredible demands to prove loyalty. The solution to the human condition is to take the human being away from the image of God by artificial means.

I intend to develop this hypothesis over the coming weeks.

JA

More from the Powergen Cup

2006-04-13T12:05:00.000+01:00

Powergen Cup Final Picture Special

2006-04-11T18:10:00.000+01:00

Boat Race Pictures

2006-04-10T22:10:00.000+01:00

Childbirth vs. a kick in the balls: discuss…

2006-03-11T18:25:00.000Z

It’s one of the age old questions, baffling theologians and philosophers alike for millennia, but now we might be close to agreement on the answer. The crux of the problem lies in the fact that no one person is able to experience both; however by examining the psychology of the two sexes we can come up with an answer.

Let us start from the chaps’ point of view: a kick in the balls holds no advantage what-so-ever – unless you count the empathy he receives from all other men present - all he gets for his troubles is the chance to pee blood for weeks after. On the other hand your woman giving birth has the option of a drug induced stupor, which I am lead to believe makes the whole business a delight and even if in the heat of the moment the woman loses her marbles and opts to do it with out performance enhancing drugs she still gets a baby at the end – and with modern medicine there is a jolly good chance that the child will be healthy. Now I admit that most chaps would be horrified if they thought that they would be lumbered with a sprog after a kick in the balls – indeed they might feel they had been on the receiving end of a Boots style 2 for 1 offer – but it must be remembered that the psychology of your woman is vastly inferior to that of your chap. To a woman the advent of a child is far from a kick in the balls; indeed incredible though it may sound, your average girly will consider the advent of a child as one of the greatest moments in her life!

So there we have it: a kick in the balls if far worse than childbirth, my thanks goes to out to the psychotic community – long may your mental work continue!

The Mating Season

2006-03-05T18:15:00.000Z

I don’t know if you’ve noticed dear reader, but there is defiantly something in the air. No Abdal I don’t mean the snow, and if I hear one more peep out of you about the clement weather you enjoyed as a boy back in Pakistan I’ll give you a real reason to wish you’d never left! No I am in fact talking of the impending arrival of spring – and with it, the mating season. I don’t know if you’ve ever taken the time to brood properly on this annual event, but recent events have brought this subject very much to the for-front of my mind.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will say that the mating season is something to which I am far from an authority; and normally I would quickly concede the point – we Arundell’s know the importance of picking our battles! They will proceed, I imagine, to explain that my understanding of the physiology of the female brain – and I use the term loosely – is deficient on multiple fronts; again they will encounter little argument from Arundell! However, as alluded to in the opening salvo, I have devoted some not inconsiderable time in recent weeks to the study of this annual festival and am happy to report that I credit myself with something of a break-through. By attacking the problem amidships, from a previously underused channel – vis. the male mind, or to be more specific mine – I believe that I have come up with the solution to this age old problem.

To be totally honest I can’t understand why psychologists have spent so long fighting through the cotton-wool that clogs up the female mind, when they could have made far quicker progress through the emotional wilderness that is its male counterpart; I suppose sometimes you can be too close to a problem to see the solution. Anyway as I was saying I am proud to announce that the whole problem of the mating season is now an open book to me; I can readily explain to anyone who cares to enquire why, say, bunny A falls head over heels for bunny B, or why girl X might be completely smitten with a fellow who the rest of the populace consider to have the face of a fish and a mind to match.

So next time you find a girl with all the appropriate fixtures falling a. over t. for a chap who, by rights, should be lumbered with one of those lower class urchins that the BBC would have us believe make up the vast part of the East End, don’t waste time bending the brain to the problem; drop me a line, furnish me with the facts, and sit back and prepare to be amazed…

JA

Hitler still hated even after all these years...

2006-02-21T13:15:00.000Z

The Holocaust never happened! An absurd statement I know and one that after 60 odd years, one would hope would upset very few; however a statement along these lines in Hitler’s native Austria could land you in jail for up to 10 years. Amazing I know – you’d think that if the Holocaust had been that bad there would be no-one left in Austria to offend – but then that is European hypocrisy in relation to free-speech for you. In Europe we are very proud of our ability to insult others, make religious slurs, allow Muslims to call for more suicide bombers, etc so this Austrian law really flies in the face of everything the EU stands for, and as such Austria should be exiled from the international community and any medals they have won at the Winter Olympics should be given to the English for our part in the downfall of Adolf Hitler!

Room For Improvement on The Inside?

2006-02-09T12:05:00.000Z

While I'm sure we all agree it was nice to see Tindal trying to offload the ball, he must be encouraged to do this only when the pass is on. The number of times Tindal attempted to pass out of tackles only to give the ball away (often lobbing it to England’s invisible 16th man) was unforgivable. While I agree that centre partnerships need time to gel, Robinson needs to realise that Tindal isn't an inside centre. How about Abbott? He's been in fine form for his club. Aside from the Tindal issue, we looked very good at the weekend, but there was still room for improvement - which is good as we don't want to do a New Zealand and peak two years before the World Cup!

And It Was All Yellow

2006-02-03T12:15:00.000Z

The man in the yellow shirt looked over at me, something that I was ill prepared for. While I have no problem with men who chose to present themselves in public wearing such garments; I do make attempts to avoid making conversation with men of such an uncouth nature. So you will appreciate my despair when he uttered the words ‘Hullo old boy’ in my direction…

JA

My VI Nations ‘All Star’ team

2006-02-03T12:10:00.000Z

15: G Thomas (Wales)

14: T Voyce (England)

13: B O’Driscoll (Ireland)

12: Y Jauzion (France)

11: J Lewsey (England)

10: F Michalak (France)

9: D Yachvili (France)

1: A Sheridan (England)

2: D Szarzewski (France)

3: P de Villiers (France)

4: F Pelous (France)

5: D Grewcock (England)

6: Y Nyanga (France)

7: L Moody (England)

8: L Dallagio (England)

This team includes one Welshman, an Irishman, six Englishmen and seven Frenchmen. As a point of interest I should point out that I expect France to win the competition, almost certainly picking up the Grand Slam on the way, with England second – losing to only the French – followed by Ireland, who will run England close for the Triple Crown, only to be let down by their poor defence, with Wales in last place (not including the Scots or the Italians, who to be frank will be well off the pace).

21st Century Malaise

2006-02-02T23:51:00.000Z

Something has changed, but you just can’t say what,
And it’s driving you mad, but you just can’t admit it,
And you’re thinking thoughts that you just won’t admit to,
And it bothers you badly when you’re lying in bed,
So you promise yourself that you just won’t give in,
But you know in your heart that will in the end,
‘cos it’s bigger than you, and you hate to admit it,
But it’s clear in your mind that you just can’t rearrange it,
And you’re looking to stars on the movie screen,
Asking for answers that they just can’t be seen,
But you try with all your being, to believe in the answers society’s givin’,
Knowing that the answer is not in that new shirt you bought last week,
Or in the car you drive, or the shoes you wear,
Or in the tooth paste you use, or the paper you read,
And Tony Blair can’t help you, and neither can the Easter Bunny,
You’re on your own, and it scares you, but you just can’t admit it,
You need someone to open the door, to show you something that wasn’t there before,
Only it was, it was there, it’s always been there,
You just couldn’t see it, or just wouldn’t see it,
And even now you can see it you still don’t know what to do with it,
So you bury your head, you buy a new shirt,
You look to the stars, to ‘Heat’ magazine,
You go on that diet; you tell yourself you’re happy,
You believe you are happy, but still there is something missing,
You’ve spent your life trying to be something your not,
And now you’re not even sure what you were before,
And even if you did know, you know you couldn’t be that person,
So you look to the stars once more, on the pages of ‘Hello’,
They talk about life and death, and you learn everything and nothing all at once.

Swinger Lowe to Duck Out?

2006-02-02T17:55:00.000Z

Reports from the south coast of our fine country are implying that underfire chairman Rupert Lowe may be on his way out, with a well backed syndicate proposing to buy out his share and clear the clubs debt... please follow the above link for more information.

Cripple Hater Hoddle off?

2006-02-02T15:45:00.000Z

Sources close to anti-disability campaigner Glen Hoddle claim he plans to leave the island before David Cameron takes office.

Mr. Hoddle, a known con-artist who once tricked the entire country into believing him to be a competent football manager, is an outspoken critic of the disableds. His god told him, he claims, that all disableds were criminals in a past life and "reap what they sow" in this one. It is well known that Dave Cameron is a fan of the disableds - he even has a son who is one - and Mr. Hoddle fears that under a Cameron administration he may become victimised.

Hoddle is expected to leave the island for foreign climes before the year is out.

JA

Sir Stanley Talks About Women

2006-02-02T01:00:00.000Z

Valentines day approaches once more, and I find myself thinking about past loves… in the course of my life I have had occasion to have involvement with females, but I must confess that I have always been at somewhat of a loss so far as understanding them is concerned. Leaving my wife aside – the only sensible policy with the infernal woman in my opinion – I have been involved, if that is the right word, with seven women in my time. The first was Albridge, can’t remember her first name I’m afraid – we were very young at the time. She was the daughter of the village butcher, I remember old man Albridge – her father – had massive hands with fingers that carried an uncanny resemblance to the ‘Albridge prized sausages’ which hung proudly in the window. All I really remember about the girl Albridge was her broad accent, and her long blond hair; she was pretty enough though, in country way, but I was always painfully aware that she would look rather plain wearing the Chelthrope Coronet that I am due to inherit when uncle Bill has the good grace to pop his clogs.

The second of my women so to speak was Audrey Hepburn, I had met her in the summer of 1960 at a party, and was bowled over by her, she had such a wonderful figure you know, but what really attracted me to her was her name; Audrey, it just roles off the tongue. I remember saying to myself after the party “Stanley old man, here is a woman whose features would do credit to the Chelthrope Coronet!” With this in mind I wrote her a letter, pretty strong stuff too if memory serves, pages and pages about bunnies and the moon and stars and things like that, really laid it on thick! But I never got a reply, I think she may have been married at the time or something, or else the letter got lost in the post, I did think about writing another one, but I was pitched into a deep depression, a depression that I wasn’t to emerge from until the death of my first wife.

After this rejection I embarked on a series of illicit flings, of which I remember very little. Though one house party conversation does stand out in the memory; the girl in question was Monica Roberts, though at the time I was in the habit of calling her Moke. Anyway we were at Bill Tunwicks place in Berkshire, near Tillingbridge, the weekend had been a great success, hunting a-plenty, wonderful food and of course great company that was the hallmark of Bill’s house parties at that time. Anyway Bill had taken me to one side shortly after I arrived and advised me that Moke was a wonderful girl, all the right parts, and all in the right places, a rare thing he assured me. Anyway he told me that I should make a play for her, lay it on thick, that sort of thing, agree with her views, talk about the moon, the stars etc… seemed reasonable to me, though I wasn’t too keen on the soppy talk I could appreciate that there are times when one must show some resolve and all that. Anyway things got off to a flying start over dinner when she told me how she loved chickens, we happened to be feasting on some of Tillingbridge Halls finest at the time, so I was able to reel off yards on the subject, I held the table with my monologue about the wonders of a well roasted chicken, of the top ten roast chickens I had eaten, that sort of thing… then feeling that I was in danger of becoming a bore, I moved on to the French and how they are of the habit of eating both horses and frogs, as well as snails… must say I was pretty pleased with my efforts and went to bed that night full of vim and other words beginning with v. The next morning over breakfast Moke seemed a little quite, I put it down to her being tired from the journey down the previous evening, and suggested we take a turn in the woods. Her manner improved no end at this idea, and so after dinner we put our best ones forward and made for the woods; I Bill had arranged to meet me by the woods with the rest of the party for the morning shoot, peasants were the order of the day, and I for one expected to bag me self half a dozen in a bid to impress the little lady. My spirits were greatly improved when she told me that she didn’t shoot herself, I smiled to myself safe in the knowledge that if I could bag her a couple of the best she would be putty in my hands. Though out the morning she was most disruptive, constantly shouting, which scared off the birds, and on one occasion actually pushing my gun while I was about to open fire. I took this as harmless female mind games, probably designed to test my good humour, and to my credit I was able to maintain my cool, and still bag myself seven of bills finest! As the party returned to the house for luncheon I attempted to engage the enemy, as it were, in conversation; Moke however was having none of it, and marched off at some pace. I was feeling just a little bewildered when Bill appeared at my side, we exchanged greetings, him remarking on the quality of the field, self commenting on the warmth of the day, before he expressed his concern that my hand may have been weakened so far as Moke was concerned by my shooting prowess. He informed me that Jill Tittlewink had told him in confidence that Moke was one of those new fangled animal lovers who disagreed with harming animals. Naturaly I was shocked, and refused to believe him, she seemed like such a nice girl, but Bill drew my attention to the fact that she hadn’t touched the chicken the night before.

“Are you sure of this information Bill? That chicken was amongst the finest I’ve tasted”

“Quite sure, Fred was most distressed about it, took me an age to calm him down after dinner.”

“Fred?”

“Yes Fred!”

“You’re quite sure?”

“Oh yes, he was most upset about his chicken being returned.”

“And well he might be, that’s a hefty slur on his ability.”

“He was most upset that her plate appeared to be completely untouched.”

“Completely untouched?”

“Yes not so much as a tooth mark in site he tells me!”

“Well this is distressing, the girl must be some kind of lunatic, I’ll wager all the other plates had been licked clean!”

“Oh yes, Fred informed me he was in half a mind to lay off the kitchen boy.”

At this point he left me to brood on the matter, and brood I did… when I got back to the house Perkins, the butler, informed me that Miss Roberts had left. I never saw her again.

I’m afraid that’s all I feel able to write about in one sitting, these memories are really rather painful, and I have my penguins to attend to…

Regards,

Bearing The Brunt of Conversation...

2006-01-26T13:50:00.000Z

Thinking back to the occasion, I must admit to feeling a degree of, what’s the word? err, apprehension, yes that’s the ticket! If my feeling of this emotion surprises you I would ask you to consider that I had never before had occasion to join a family of Bears – royal Bears at that – for luncheon. I put this observation to Helen, with whom I found myself in a conversation, which, though flowing along nicely to begin with, had latterly gained a disagreeable tendency to ebb. This candid admission acted like the Camel that broke the Shrews back – or something along those lines – young Helen Petrioff took up the bit, placed it firmly between her razor sharp teeth, and proceeded to take the lagging conversation firmly in paw. Her curious accent – imagine if you will a combination of Russian, French, English and American with that distinctive Bear-e-ness thrown in for good measure and you may be somewhere not too far of the mark – made following her train of thought rather tricky at first, but as an English man I am used to dealing with Johnny (or in this case Helen) Foreigner, and was quickly up to speed. One it had become clear to me that she was addressing me in English, and not some ghastly foreign language that made one think there must be something wrong with her, we were quickly able to establish common ground. I should point out that this is not terribly easy when dealing with a Bear, due to the different interests of the two species; however when it emerged that she was a keen sports (wo)man – enjoying hunting and fishing mainly – we came to get on like a hearse on fire! Suffice to say we chattered away about this and that like only a man and a Bear can until we were stood out side the gates of the Palace of the King Augustus Petrioff…

I shall have to leave it here for to-day as I am still awaiting clearance to talk about court events. JA

Hair to-day, gone to-morrow?

2006-01-25T16:15:00.000Z

For those of you lucky enough not to have seen me for a while will no doubt not know I got a little confused with certain Christian festivals and decided to give up hair cuts for lent (which I mistakenly thought took place from November till late January to remember JC's birthday). As such I have taken the liberty of taking a couple of photos of my now longer locks for your (dis)pleasure.

JA

ps the first picture is a 'before' shot!

Bears

2006-01-23T13:30:00.000Z

There is nothing worse than writing under duress; please consider that before asking why I have neglected my blogging duties.

While out in the woods the other day I came, quite by chance, across a curious scene. It is this scene which I wish to share with you know. In the course of my walk a came across a clearing deep in the woods, though I had spent a great deal of time in the woods as a child I had never come across this particular clearing before, the light in the clearing seemed to take on an almost surreal quality, there was something magical about this place, something that for the life of me I could not put my finger on. Then suddenly I hear a sound, distant at first, but it grew steadily until it was all I could hear, the ground was trembling, but I was not afraid. Then suddenly the clearing was filled with animals, all sorts of animals, but in the centre were three bears; one of them saw me and pointed, imagine my shock when the bear next to him opened his mouth to utter “I am Augustus Petrioff, Ruler of these woods, King of all animals; who are you and what is your business in my court?” You can imagine my surprise at this, but I found myself responding with out a tremor in my voice “I am John, John Arundell, I was not aware that this was your court.” The bear Petrioff reply “No matter, as you are here you can serve as my judge, come, sit” as he said this he gestured with his mighty paw to a regal thrown in the centre of the clearing that for the life of me I can not explain how I had failed to notice earlier.

Once seated the second bear, whose name it transpired was Fredrick Petrioff, son of Augustus, explained that the court was to hear two cases that day; the first of theft, and the second of spying. Naturally the second case was one of some importance, while the first was but a petty squabble between Squirrels. The first case was fairly straight forward, Squirrel A (who can’t be named due to legal reasons) stood accused of stealing acorns from Squirrel B, a Badger named Rufus had witnessed the crime, and after the prosecution had presented its evidence Squirrel A changed its plea to Guilty. After consulting with the third Bear, Augustus’s daughter Helen, I passed sentence (a fine of 300 acorns and a two week exile from the kingdom, suspended for two months). After this case the court adjourned for luncheon, the King invited me to dine with his family, an invitation I could hardly refuse, nor did I want to.

I must leave it here for now as I am still awaiting clarification that I am allowed to discuss the espionage case.

JA

Temporally Sidelined by the Cancer of the Bourgeoisie

2006-01-21T21:20:00.000Z

I live in a world that don’t understand me,
That can’t understand me,
That won’t even try,
Why, oh why? Perhaps I’ll die.

Why do you hate me Great Briton?
What have I done to you?
Why don’t you try to understand me?
What is it about me that scares you so?

You’re afraid of me Great Briton,
You fear what I might do,
You fear what I might say,
You’re scared I might be right…

You need to know something Great Briton,
Just one little thing,
I will win Great Briton,
I'll beat you in the end.

Ivy envy...

2006-01-17T21:40:00.000Z

The house, the front of the house at least, was almost entirely covered by ivy; it had the effect of inducing in the occupants a feeling of serine superiority: unfortunately the imposing façade caused great unease in the people of the village. No one was at all surprised when the house and all of its occupants were burnt to a cinder by an angry mob in the summer of 1874…

JA

Sir James on 'Quacks'

2006-01-08T17:20:00.000Z

I do apologise for the other day; I get these fits of dizziness when I concentrate for too long, my Doctor keeps telling me that I should cut down on the drink, but I say to him 'what possible harm can one bottle of Port of an evening do me? Or even two...'.

No, I've made it a point of pride to ignore the advice of quacks; experience tells me they seldom know what they are talking about: had a fellow a while back try to tell me that I had hanged an innocent man. Claimed that he had DNA evidence to prove that the fellow was totally innocent; I told him that I hadn't got where I am today by worrying about silly details like evidence... quite an unpleasant young man if memory serves; huge nose, pair of ears that wouldn't look out of place on an elephant (African not Asian of course), and a vacant sort of expression on his face, kept on staring off into space... most unnerving I can tell you. Anyway I had the butler sent his coat with fox blood and arranged for the hounds to be out when he left; local papers made a bit of a fuss about the business, and it did encourage the anti-shower set (as I call the blighter's who picket my estate during the hunt season, ho ho ho), but in the grand scheme of things well worth it I think! I do take against people who accuse me of arrogance and incompetence and feel fully justified in 'taking the law into my own hands'.

I had better leave it there for to-day; the Port has just arrived...

Law & Order Under the New Chief of Wessex Police

2006-01-06T15:50:00.000Z

Dear reader, this is Sir Stanley Morris addressing you once more. My old school chum Sir James Lackenby, the renowned high court judge and veteran of not only the fine centres of academic excellence that are Eton boys school and Cambridge University, but also the Korean war has agreed to spare some of his valuable time to discuss his new role as Chief of the Wessex Police force. Sir James is a well known traditionalist, who is prepared to go against the grain if his beliefs command him to; but more importantly that that, he is a jolly good egg and is never scared of putting the lower classes in their rightful place (normally somewhere near the gutter). I leave you now in the competent hands of Sir James to return to my beloved Penguins, with whom I am happy to be reunited after an enforced separation...

SM

As you will no doubt have gathered from my friends fine introduction I am Sir James Lackenby, former high court judge, veteran of both Eton and Cambridge and of the Korean war... recently, after some forty years loyal service I might add, I was required to enter into what is known as retirement from my position as a judge. This sorry turn of events came after an alleged judicial mistake I was deemed to have made. To aid your understanding of the event I feel I should spare a few lines to explain my personal ideology: I am of the opinion that the best way to tackle any problem is to attack its roots. I first developed this philosophy while at prep school; my house had reached the final of the house cup for the first time in years, however our opponents had in their ranks a rather handy fly-half... our prospects looked bleak so long as he was on the pitch - he hadn't missed a place kick all year - so drawing on my families long judicial history (I will touch on this later) I decided to take the law into my own hands. Now certain of your number may feel this a rather rash thing to do, but I should point out that my families judicial history left me ideally placed to do this; after all who better than a judge (or the son of a judge) to take the law into his own hands? I constructed what is known as a Kangaroo court in the changing rooms, and had the chap up on charges of heresy. I had, you see, spotted him playing cards during morning prayer with Picklesworth and Rawlings. As such I was able to construct a water tight case against him and in an effort to improve judicial efficiency - another life long passion of mine - I acted as judge, jury and executioner, and having heard all my evidence against him: namely that I had seen him not only playing cards, but doing so with his eyes open, during morning prayer. I convicted him of heresy, and recalling a similar crime committed by Jesus Christ all those years ago in a temple in Palestine (as Israel was called in my school days) sentenced him to an hours crucifiction.

Due to the rather untimely intervention of the Rugby master, whose name now escapes me, he was only able to serve half his sentence, but happily for me was unable to line up for his house the next day: we eventualy ran out winners by one point - their stand in stand-off proving unable to land even one place kick all afternoon! Justice had not only been done, but more importantly had been seen to be done as, much to my chagrin I was unable to catch any other boys with eyes open during morning prayers that year...

I'm afraid I'll have to leave it here for today, I feel one of my attacks coming on.

JL

Happy Memories

2006-01-06T12:10:00.000Z

She sat across from him, unable to take her eyes off his face. It was quite clear to her that there was something of grave importance playing on his mind; the question of what it could be both frightened and intrigued her in equal measure... despite the tight connection she felt she had with him, at times he remained an enigma to her; there where occasions when his actions drove her raving mad - more so because nine times out of ten his instinct proved to be correct - but the fascination his actions provided her made all his eccentricities bearable.

In hindsight it was probably the shock of his speaking rather than what was actualy said that startled her, indeed she could distinctly remember having to ask him to repeat his question, but she is sure that he has offered her no clue as to what he was thinking before hand... indeed she is not even sure, with any certainty that he actualy asked her it as a question; there was an assurance about him that day, and assurance that she had never encountered in any other man before or since, that lead her to question whether it was a question or a statement. Either way she accepted - why wouldn't she? Turning the event over in her mind, as she was prone to do when alone, she still couldn't satisfy herself that her memory of the event was accurate, some days she would remember his words as something along the lines of "Shall we marry in the New Year?", while at other times she would remember something along the lines of "I think we should marry in the New Year...". Of the two she was inclined to lean towards the latter, there was something very romantic about the notion that he knew her answer before she gave it; and while certain friends assured her that it bordered on arrogance, she knew him well enough to know that not to be the case.

JA

Smile

2006-01-05T12:35:00.000Z

He gazed across at her, she looked beautiful as ever; her breathing still slightly laboured, her lightly tussled hair clinging to the perspiration still present on her temple, and then there was her smile... a smile that would light up any man's life, it illuminated her whole face, drawing him in, making him believe anything could happen, and everything was possible...

It was at that moment that he realised that he was in love with her...

JA

Gas Panic in Europe as America Defend the Bourgeoisie

2006-01-02T14:20:00.000Z

The recent disagreement between Russia and the Ukraine looks set to reopen cold war wounds. Russia's decision to cut off gas supplies to it's former satellite came after the Ukraine refused to pay the full amount. Russia had been supplying the Ukraine with heavily subsidised gas for years; indeed the price Russia were asking, despite having been quadrupled, was still below international averages. The problem is that while Russia are perfectly entitled to sell, or not sell, their gas supplies – the largest in the world by the way – to who ever they wish, the Ukraine gas pipe network just happens to be a strategic cog in the European supply line. Now those naughty chaps in the Ukraine have stolen $25M (or 100 million cubic meters) worth of the stuff in just 24 hours, much to Russia's (and Europe's) chagrin. Russia supplies around a quarter of mainland Europe's gas, and until the North-European gas pipeline (NEGP) is operational in 2010 gas destined for Europe will need to travel through the Ukraine. While the Ukraine is keen to play down Russian reports of skulduggery, they have confirmed that they will siphon off gas that travels through their territory as and when the weather deteriorates.

America has now wadded into the trouble by condemning the Russians for making energy supplies a political issue. It is widely thought that the reason behind the Ukraine price hike is the new pro-west government which was sworn in after the 2004 revolution. America feel that they should have protected rights on the concept of making energy resources a political issue after their trailblazing exploits in the field in Iraq. The Americans, being greatly uncultured, have always been suspicious of the Russians, unlike their English contemporaries who have always admired the Russian rejection of the bourgeoisie. Maybe the problem lies in the American obsession with money...

Dawn of the Dave Draws Closer Thanks to the Anti-Monday Set

2005-12-29T12:05:00.000Z

Britain's next great spiritual leader, Dave Cameron, moved yesterday to tighten his future grip in Downing Street. Aging Irish former punk rocker, and famed Monday hater, Sir Bob Geldof agreed to join the Tory 'Conscience easing' think tank. The aim of this organisation is to devise policies on the third world to allow white middle class people to feel better about pillaging the natural resource of, among other places, Africa. There is nothing worse than watching a news story about people dieing in Africa because they are poor, when you are wearing a diamond ring; it really makes you feel bad, which is not on considering the price you paid for it.

Dave has sensed that a token gesture is needed, to allow us Brits to ease our consciences, and to this end he has got Bob Geldof on board. Bob will make absurd suggestions like canceling all third world debt, increasing aid or trading fairly with Africans, and Cameron will respond by increasing aid to Brixton, and legalising soft drugs; it's what is known as negotiation. It may not be perfect, but it will go some way to improving the lives of the African natives of south London, while the white middle classes will feel better about using African natural resources because we are compassionate to those folk unlucky enough to be forced to live in poverty south of the river. And further more all the activists will be too stoned to remember that the people still living in Africa are still starving: everybody wins (except the people the panel is meant to help, but then nothing is perfect).

JA

Dishing the Dirt Dissident Style

2005-12-27T01:15:00.000Z

I took time out of my busy schedule this morning to talk with one of the growing number of Cuban dissidents taking refuge in one of the sheds in the garden. There are about 30 of these dissidents currently hiding out in our garden; most of them to concerned for the safety of their friends and family back home to speak out: for this reason you will understand my unwillingness to divulge which shed they are hiding in. Oswaldo, not his real name, is a charming young man of 24 hailing from Havana; he incurred Fidel Castro's wrath after penning an article suggesting that an increase in political choice may be the best way of fending off Americas unwanted advances. Castro – like many Labour backbenchers – has a fundamental fear of choice; he sees it as a bourgeois phenomena that always acts to harm the working classes. Oswaldo told me of his frantic escape (aboard a small motor boat) and of the persecution he suffered at the hands of the Americans upon landing. Naturally the yanks where loath to believe his claims that he was a Cuban dissident; instead assuming that he was a drug runner. Oswaldo claims they held him for three days before they gave him any food or water, then kept him awake for “what seemed like months”. Luckily for him after two months in state custody a Cuban flyer offering a reward for the capture of Oswaldo on charges of treason washed up in a Miami beach exonerating him. After his release from jail Oswaldo slipped away and boarded an oil tanker; this took him to Rotterdam, Holland, from where he was able to travel to England, and latterly my garden. He told me that great men such as Mr. Blair and Mr. Cameron inspire ordinary Cubans to hope that one day choice may be a reality instead of a dream. In Cuba you have no say as to which school you go to (always the nearest one to where you live) or which hospital you are treated at (always the nearest to where you live). He told me, with a tear in his eye, of how his mother had had to wait three days to be treated once, when there was a hospital on the other side of the island (only five days away by donkey) with no waiting list at all. His dream was of a Cuba with a Blair or Cameron type president where his mother would have been able to make that donkey journey in order to gain faster treatment. A dream us Brits may soon realise!

Looking Back in Anger (and Why Not?)

2005-12-27T01:00:00.000Z

What follows is a faithful reproduction of the Christmas message I drafted for her Majesty the Queen to send to her close friends and family. She was great-full enough to heed my request and make no mention of my help in her traditional Christmas address to the nation. In addition to this a select band of my friends and family were lucky enough (sic) to receive a copy in the run up to Christmas. I wish each and every one of you a belated, yet heart felt, Humbug Christmas; I flatter myself that you may find the following not disinteresting...

Hallo,

It's been an eventful year, stuffed full of dead Popes, Drinkers/footballers, Rally drivers, Western holiday makers (technically not this year but I'll include them anyway), Londoners and - if Irish ex punk rockers are to be believed - Africans... but I do not intend to dwell on death and suffering for long. Many other interesting things have happened in the last year, England managed to win the ashes - before a dramatic return to form in Pakistan - the Lions had a very successful tour to New Zealand (if you don't count the actual rugby), while England showed real signs of moving in the right direction in the Autumn tests. Tony Blair secured an historic third term, proving that the people of this country don't really care how crap you are at your job, so long as you look and sound right, while the Tories have finally realised that moving further and further to the right will never win them an election. 2005 also saw Pepsi overtake Coca Cola as the leading soft drinks manufacturer for the first time; and Iraq managed to hold an election with out too much blood shed; so well done there!

Closer to home the arrival of Christmas was delayed by the jubilation of a successful Ashes campaign, but when it finally arrived (as late as September in some places!) the traditional bastions of the event welcomed it with open arms. The Regent street lights are the best - in my opinion - for some years, while the Ice Rink and Somerset house has been well served by the addition of an Ice Wall! Again, sadly, the Church seem intent to detract from the traditional values of Christmas - family arguments, gross over indulgence and commercialisation - for their own evil ends, i.e. spreading peace and love, and brainwashing good honest capitalist folk: we can only hope that a Cameron premiership will act to stop the annual hijack of this wonderful 6 month festival of child birth and over indulgence!

While the island has been preoccupied with fighting the advance of religious fanaticism, our spiritual leader, Tony B'liar, has been off giving our money away to anybody who will accept it, manly European farmers. He has also been attempting to create a fairer deal for the third world, encouraged by the anti-Monday set. This consists, so far as anyone can gather, of giving them a few sheckles in return for them allowing our goods into their countries. All of this is good news for Britain, as we can increase our exports, while being reassured in the knowledge that the third worlders are getting a fair deal! Peace of mind and more money, what more could any one want?!

At this juncture I would like to say a few words about two "great" people who died this year; Pope John Paul the thirty three millionth, and George "anyone got a spare liver" Best. I was shocked when I learned that the Pope had died, I assumed that he was immortal. as he had been seemingly on deaths door for most of my life, yet kept pulling through to mumble something or other about the spread of AID's in Africa, and how everyone else should be nice to each other, unless they weren't Catholic, when they could rot in hell, or something, I never really paid to much attention to him... He was, according to the press, a great man; the first Communist Pope, he had thought the Nazi's as a lad; ignoring the Jewish commandment 'thou shalt not kill' in the process, while in later life being an equal pain in the arse to the Russians, he then spent the rest of his life in a golf buggy...

The second important person to die was perhaps the greatest drinker ever to live; despite his nations great drinking traditions he stood (or slumped) head and shoulders above the rest. His initial progress was restricted by his footballing prowess, but he quickly gave up this distraction to allow his god given talents the opportunity to shine. On form he was untouchable, pubs had to put on extra bar staff just to keep up with his frantic pace. After a titanic struggle with his first liver, he quickly defeated the substitute, who never looked like being able to contain him. Not even parental duties detracted from his gift, when required to look after his son he would take him to watch him in action, just like David Beckham does with his children. There is much
talk that Manchester United, who did much to stifle his gift, will honour the greatest ever Irish man by retiring the number 7 shirt he sometimes wore while warming up... His passing coincided with a mass delivery of Rose tinted glasses to both Fleet street and Ireland...

While being (thank goodness) neither Catholic or Irish, I am still able to sympathise with their loss, 2005 marked the passing of my Grandmother, which while sad also frees up another space in my phones address book; if I were only a more personable person I might have cause to use it... 2005 also marked my Graduation from Newcastle University, and I must say that I have so far found the adjustment rather difficult: it is not easy to find yourself living back at home after four years away, I have no intention of sugar coating the truth, there have been occasions when I have thought "I've had an all right life, and a varied one at that, why not end it now?" but I was keenly a wear that there remained much to achieve... and the light at the end of the tunnel of despair only disappeared fleetingly - never more than a couple of weeks. I look forward to moving up to the Metrop. some time in the New Year, hopefully by the second quarter, though nothing is set in stone as yet.

This year also saw the long awaited marriage of the Prince of Wales to Camilla PB; if it weren't for the frankly absurd public reaction to the long overdue death of his first wife, this happy union would no doubt have occurred eight years ago, but alas the great unwashed of this country prove themselves time and again to be far too easily lead by the gutter press, and their attempts to absolve themselves of blame... both Prince William, and his much more entertaining younger brother Prince Harry have publicly stated that they hold their new mother in law in high esteem, which is lovely for them. The man who would be king and his good lady wife took time out of their happy home life to tour the colonies: a tour that was a marked success. I am sure you will join with me in wishing the royal couple every happiness together, and hope also that the dark memory of Dianna Princess of Whores (or was it Wales?!) can finally be consigned to history. I would also like to take this opportunity to wish the Johns (Elton and David) all the best in their union; I don't really know exactly how these civil partnerships, or Garages as they might well become known by the media, work but I understand that Elton went on a massive bender this week, before committing to a life with a bender...

Perhaps the most worrying thing to emerge from 2005 was Turner report; as you may know Lord Turner was asked to look into the pension crises by Tony B'liar, and after a good deal of consideration, and a rather nice pay packet, he came up with the ground breaking suggestion that if people want a better pension they will have to; a) work longer and b) save more. I am sure this remarkable logic left you as distinctly underwhelmed as it did me, but I have hit on a better solution. I intend to spend all the money I have on a distinctly unhealthy life style, drink, drugs, pot noddles... all this in the hope that I will either die as a result of the life style, or be killed in some terrorist outrage on the tube. The thought of saving large chunks of my earnings
only to wind up dead under the wheels of a bus, or ripped to shreds by a chap with a beard is frankly to much to contemplate. If by some tragedy my gamble doesn't come off, and I am still around at the age of, say, 30 then I have a back up plan... I will move to LA and beguile a rich Hollywood actress with my Englishness; I know this to be a viable option as I have seen it in films.

I hope you are well etc... having a tolerable Christmas (I find drink in large volumes makes the affair almost bearable) and remember, what's done is done; and what's to come, with a bit of luck won't happen...

JA

Somerset House

2005-12-22T01:00:00.000Z

By way of explanation; Somerset House is a large building in Londons' West End, with a large courtyard area, which every year plays host to an open air ice rink for about two months around Christmas. The following are pictures of it.

Humbug Christmas

2005-12-20T11:30:00.000Z

I wish you a humbug Christmas,
I wish you a humbug Christmas,
I wish you a humbug Christmas,
And a crappy New year...

Wannabe Nudist...

2005-12-18T23:30:00.000Z

I always wanted to be a nudist, but i never quite had the nerve; I imagine it takes a lot of nerve to take your clothes of in front of other people in public. I suppose it all comes down to confidence really, and I never had very much of that. As a girl I remember always having to wait until the changing rooms were empty of my class mates until I could get changed for gym; this got me into trouble all the time for being late which meant that I was always having to do laps of the field after class. I liked this though, because by the time I had finished all my class mates had finished changing and had left the locker area, allowing me to get changed right away.

It is not just other people that I lack confidence around, even when I am on my own I lack the confidence to be nude, I always wear a bikini in the bath or the shower, and in the morning when I have to change my underwear I go into a special room I have in my house; it has no windows and no lights - it's a converted dark room - and I close the door, make sure there are no watching eyes, spiders, ants, bees etc, then I turn off the little torch I always carry with me, and get changed. I don't know if you have ever tired to change your underwear in a pitch black dark room, but if you haven't I recommend you don't... I suppose I really should have removed the photo processing equipment before I converted the dark room into a changing room, or as I call it, 'prude room', but thats hind sight for you. Every morning I manage to fall over when getting my knickers on, sometimes I get lucky and only smash my head on the floor, but other times I knock processing chemicals over me, causing rather painful burning.

So all in all my life would have been a lot easier if I could have been a nudist...

More Money Than...

2005-12-17T23:55:00.000Z

Why is it so hard to draw left handed in Microsoft paint? Bloody Bill Gates! JA

Tony The Tiger To Turn Tory?

2005-12-17T10:45:00.000Z

You heard it here first: Tony Blair was busy yesterday lining up a front bench job under David Cameron in the next government. He was, as you no doubt know, engaged in talks with his EU chums about the EU budget, when he surprised all present by offering ₤7 B over the next seven years for nothing. To the untrained eye this may just seem like a selfless act of generosity from a man who passionately believes in the European Union; however I have the benefit of an agile brain, and an eye for spin and treachery.

To me this is a deliberate ploy to undermine his own party, for whom he will give up the leadership by the end of this term anyway. Working against his own party can only help to ensure that Gordon Brown doesn't win the next election, thus saving the country from a very brown (surely dark?!) future. This will be Tony's legacy, he will be the last Socialist Prime Minister this country will ever have; before seeing the 'error of his ways' and helping to repair the damage he has done under a Cameron premiership. Makes you proud to be British...

Britain's Big Tory Turn On

2005-12-16T18:15:00.000Z

Despite being relatively politically interested; for various reasons that I have no desire to go examine at this juncture, I am not particularly politically committed. Naturally I find the Tory parties sudden surge in the polls fascinating, but find myself at a loss to explain the reasons. Quite how a party who three months ago were seen as being totally out of touch with the common man can elect a man who's Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandfather was a king of England as leader and suddenly not only be back in touch with the common man, but also the most popular party in the Britain boggles the mind some what.

In a bid to understand this transmogrification of the political landscape I decided to interview a cross section of the general populous. It seemed important to find the common man, however I happen to live in Surrey and was not exactly sure where one could find these people; racking the brain I remembered that many working class persons drink their lives away in so called 'working mens clubs' and so I set out to find one. After a semi-exhaustive search I gave up, and headed for a public house looking for something to restore the moral. While standing at the bar drinking my Guinness I heard the unmistakable sound of one of the great unwashed “Kronnie top love.” I turned to look at him, he was wearing a Chelsea football shirt (though I doubt he had ever been anywhere near the Kings road), a pair of sports trousers by Adidas, covered in paint and dirt, and a sturdy pair of work mans boots. His forearms were adorned with tattoos, and he had those narrow beady eyes and general rat like features that the lower classes seem to wear as a badge of honour. I had never noticed his type before in public, of course I had seen them on television before, accidentally catching the communist soap opera 'Eastender' when the BBC over run, but had never had occasion to observe them in the wild: I had a feeling that I was going to learn a lot today...

The upshot was that I had a quick chat with him, he was actually a jolly nice fellow, though I had trouble understanding his particular brand of English, and he agreed to write a small piece about why he would vote Tory. I was taken aback by this offer, assuming he would be illiterate, but praise must go to Tony Blair, as he claimed to be able to write, and actually seemed a little offended at my surprise by his offer. I anticipate his submission any day now, and will post it just as soon as the editing process has been completed.

In addition to 'Kev's' piece, I have also persuaded my good friend Sir Stanly Morris to write a piece about why the upper classes will be voting for Cameron and his friend Sir James Lackenby, the recently appointed high court judge, has also agreed to represent the legal community on the matter. In the next few days I hope to persuade members of other important social groups to commit their thoughts to paper on this subject...

Blogging in the free world (reproduced from another publication)

2005-12-15T23:55:00.000Z

Good evening (for this is being written in the evening), I trust you are all well - if not please do not tell me about your ailments, as I really don't care. I would like to begin today by sending out happy thoughts to all those people in Africa and the Sub continent that we have helped as a nation over the last year. It's heart warming to know that having given generously to them in their hour of need, they rush to our side when we come under attack.

In other news, my campaign to decree a peerage on young Jeremy Thorpe - ex leader of the Liberal Party - has not been going well. I am saddened to reveal that the response to my online petition has been at best pretty poor! Why is it that people are more than happy to sign anything that half baked Irish punk rockers tell them to on behalf of people on an other continent, but when it comes to helping out a jolly good egg in our own country they just can't be bothered? It must be something to do with the political apathy which stalks our land like a tiger in French knickers. We can hardly expect people to sign political petitions when they are following the advice JC gave to the beggar;

"Take up thy bombs and bomb"

Naturally at the time the poor old beggar did not have a clue what this meant, but in the light of Thursdays 'fun' in the Metrop we see that JC was not only years ahead of his time, but also able to appeal to people of different faiths (must be something to do with the beard). One wonders what other pearls of wisdom these Islamic chaps will glen from JC’s indecipherable ramblings in years to come – I only hope they will have the decency to test run his hair-brained schemes elsewhere.

*Originally written after the London bombings for another publication. JA

Waterloo Sunset (well almost)

2005-12-15T17:00:00.000Z

I happened to have a camera with me to capture this evenings wonderful sunset...

JA

Brown & out Gordon is no ladies man

2005-12-15T00:35:00.000Z

It's official: ladies prefer class... A recent survey suggests that the Conservatives will win the next election, provided that Gordon Brown and David Cameron are both in charge of their respected parties as expected. However if it were to be Tony that Dave was to be up against then the status quo would most likely remain. The major swingers, it would appear, are women, especially C1 group women – nurses, lower level police officers, etc... the reasons for this mistrust in Gordon are fascinating – remember that Tony shackled himself to Gordon at the last election because of his Chancellor's impeccable economic reputation and it worked with Labour winning an historic third term. However the thought of Gordon as PM just doesn't do it for the female populous – who let us not forget should still consider themselves to be on probation so far as voting is concerned. Ladies appear to be attracted to Dave for his youth and, lets face it, the fact that he has a disabled child probably tugs at the old heart strings. Women do have a disconcerting habit of letting their heart, not their head, make decisions – it would be hard to imagine for example a female Napoleon or Hitler as they wouldn't have the bottle for the key moment (for example Napoleon surveying a battle field with more than 10,000 dead and dismissing the scene with the words “One night in Paris will replace all these men.”).

If the poles do turn out to be true, David Cameron can trace the routes of his victory all the way back to the suffragette movement, and should honour Emily Davison by making her a posthumous peer; while Gordon may well be found the next day in the church yard of St. Marys in Morpeth, Northumberland doing his business on one of the graves, maybe popping round to chez Blair later for some John Prescott style diplomacy...

Chapter II: 'A Bourgeois Existence'

2005-12-13T23:20:00.000Z

He lay there under the covers, the day just about to begin, savouring the feel of the bed he would soon have to leave. There was a click, followed by the shrill bleep of the alarm; 7 o'clock, time to get up. He stays just a minute more, before pushing off the covers and stepping out of the bed; quickly, so as not to lose the urge, he drops to the floor and begins his exercises: first press ups, lowering himself almost to the floor, before quickly pushing his body back, arms fully extended. When his arms can lift him no more he roles onto his back and begins his sit ups, when his stomach is begging him for relief he lays back to catch his breath, before heading for the shower.

As was his practice Masters started with the water very hot, then, once he had washed himself to his satisfaction, turned the temperature down, standing for some minutes under the icy water. To his mind there was no better way to start a day, it really got rid of the cobwebs. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist he headed for the kitchen, where his breakfast things had been laid out for him by his housekeeper, Mimi. Despite the many women in his life he considered Mimi to be the only one he couldn't do with out, she was a real gem; kept the house immaculate with serene ease, managed to keep up with his fads and despite her perfect command of English, she still retained a trace of that wonderful French accent, which often appeared when she was attempting to reproach him for something. But perhaps what he liked most about her was that she steadfastly refused to sleep with him; he found this refreshing, so many of the woman in his life put up so little fight as to take the sport out of the chase: but Mimi, despite her flirting seldom gave him more than her customary cheek kissing welcome. She was an extremely attractive girl, with her pale olive skin, her chocolate brown eyes and her wonderful hair that was deepest brown in the winter, but in the summer, especially after she had been home to visit her family in Paris, her hair turned a wonderful dark blond. Not the horrid mousy colour that so many women are afflicted with, but a glowing, vibrant blond that he imagined other, less fortunate girls would kill for. She was also the only person in the world who he allowed to use his first name, Dima, he detested the name, chosen by his father after a Slovak friend his grandfather had made during the war. His full name was Dima Nemo Hugh Masters, and of those he found only Nemo vaguely acceptable; Hugh, he felt sounded soft, while Dima made him sound stupid. Indeed he had only come to tolerate Nemo after he had fallen out with his family, it's meaning after all being no name, however he was still loath to permit the use of any of his Christian names.

Notes on Chapter II

2005-12-13T14:40:00.000Z

Chapter II isn't compleated yet, but I have posted the begining for you. The remainder will be posted as soon as compleated! If you wish to read, or re-read the first installment then please click on the title of this post (it will take you to it!), as always I do greatly appreciate comments, so please leave them! I am also still looking for an actress to play the part of the Easter bunny in the village Nativity play, the role is a paid one!

Cameronites to move into the centre?

2005-12-12T16:40:00.000Z

It looks increasingly likely that the Labour party will return to their socialist roots once Tony Blair steps down as leader. This will leave the door open for the Conservatives; provided of coarse that David Cameron can stamp his 'Liberal Blair' identity on the party.

If Mr. Cameron can remember the words Benjamin Franklin – “Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both.” – poor Gordon Brown will find himself replacing David Cameron as leader of the opposition. Gordon Brown, encouraged by his militant back bencher's, will act on his natural impulse to lean to the left, leaving the centre ground that Tony Blair has worked so hard to control open to the Conservatives to reclaim. Possibly the cruelest blow is to the Liberals who had a real chance to become a political force; however the Conservatives are still a much larger political force, and will have no problem marching into the centre once Tony Blair steps down and the Labour back bencher's 'take back' the party. Having said that, there is the opportunity for the Liberals to get into government in the event of a hung parliament, which must be considered to be a real possibility; we are already looking at a Blairite/Cameronite coalition in order to get through some of Tony's reforms, which is likely to greatly upset the left of the Labour party, who sense blood and look likely to oppose Tony on anything and every thing. Are these really the sort of people we want to have running our country?

Bene placito and the secret of the holy rammer: Chapter one 'Out in the cold'

2005-12-09T11:50:00.000Z

As I approached the gate I saw two young guards, whose rank was probably equivalent to that of a subaltern. It was obvious that guarding the gate wasn’t one of their normal duties; they had obviously drawn the short straw on this occasion. Holding back slightly so as to think of the best method of approach I observed a third man come out to the gate to meet them. He handed them something which I took to be a drink, my suspicions where confirmed when both men put the vessels to their lips. After some minutes the third man left them to return to the party, I had listened into their conversation and had gathered that some one answering to the name Gary would be bringing them some more brandy in about 15 minutes. I resolved to make a quick tour of the perimeter hoping to find an open window, before returning to observe this second meeting. I had no real worries about getting past the two guards, but was a little concerned about doing so without raising an the alarm. If indeed the two where being supplied with drinks every 15 minutes disposing of the guards would only buy me 15 minutes time to complete my mission.

I moved off to the right keeping low and hugging the tree line to avoid detection, I could feel the reassuring presence of not only the berretta .25 strapped to my left breast, but also the bulge of the Smith & Wesson .38 I was carrying on me today in case I needed some real stopping power. I admit that I had been against carrying this weapon on me, as it did not come with a silencer making it a last resort weapon on infiltration exercises, but the decision had been taken out of my hands. I had however resolved not to use the weapon unless absolutely necessary, and was planning to rely more on the flat throwing knife by Wilkinson’s, the sword makers, that was strapped to my left forearm, and the accurate berretta which seemed to have been made for my hand. I had counselled the .38 down my right side to allow me to shoot with the left hence leaving my right free to fire the more accurate berretta, and had put in a fair amount of practice at the range over the past few weeks with the left. While still far more comfortable on the right, I was happy enough aiming at large targets now with the left, and the power of the Smith & Wesson gave me the ability to put down a target even with an off centre shot. Having devoted about 5 minutes to thoughts of my arsenal, I turned my mind to the task at hand. I was here on a cold, but thankfully dry night, to gain access to the Bene placito strong hold. We had had a tip off that they where planning a major recruitment program in the New Year, which might include the taking of many more Rachel’s, and it had been decided to break into their base tonight when the members would be detained by the Rammer ceremony. My objectives where to gain as much information about any future plans the sect had, and to observe as much of the ceremony as possible; very little is known as to what happens in bene placito ceremonies, we have been unable to extract any information from captured members of the sect, while apparent victims appear unwilling to speak out against their captors.

While still deep in thought I found myself back once more at the front entrance…

Worlds shortest goalkeeper

2005-12-06T20:20:00.000Z

I have written to the Guinness book of records with a view to having the 'man' featured in this photograph credited as the worlds shortest goalkeeper. The player in question appears to be only around 3 foot tall, which I am sure must be a record. I have it on good authority that the player in question regularly concedes around 15 goals a game, which for my American readers is not overly good...

JA

Chapter two delayed

2005-12-06T19:32:00.000Z

The second chapter of the story has been delayed due to my silly laptop needing to be formatted, and hence me losing the second chapter. Hope to have it for you soon, and the thrid chapter is already well on its way too!

JA

Bene placito and the secret of the holy rammer

2005-12-05T16:55:00.000Z

The story 'Bene placito and the secret of the holy rammer', which will be appearing on this site in stages is a true story. Naturally names have been changed to protect the identity of the people involved. The story will be told in both the first and third person. If you wish to have a 'hard copy' of it in pdf format, then please leave your name and e-mail in any of the comment sections (don't worry all comments come to me for moderation before being posted and I will not allow e-mail address to be shown.

JA

Still looking for an Easter bunny!

2005-12-03T17:25:00.000Z

Further to yesterday's post about the village nativity; I am still seeking a young lady between the ages of 18 and 25 to play this role. The role is calls for a non-nude; costumes will be provided, and you should be advised that the part is one of the key roles in this combined story of the Nativity and the Crucifixion of young master Jesus. Please register your interest in this role in the comments section of this post.

JA

Portraits of a man at work

2005-12-03T16:40:00.000Z

Included are three pictures of a Route Master bus being washed; for people who like that sort of thing.

Nativity nightmare

2005-12-02T00:40:00.000Z

Being the civic minded fellow that I am I recently volunteered to direct the village nativity play. For those of you that aren’t in the know, this is an annual event in which the Church attempt to hijack the age old capitalist winter festival for their own ends. I was elected by virtue of my promises to inject more realism into the play, while also emphasising the Christian message of the event. While I had every intention of making good my first promise, I saw the second more as a nice sound bite, and once established in the chair set about dropping this policy faster than our great Prime Minister persuaded the Labour party to drop their socialist roots (God bless him for that).

The first problems arose during first auditions, I must say that the standard of acting among the under 5’s in Surrey is abysmal. I have never seen such dismal attempts at mimicking the process of labour! There was no heart, no passion, I did not believe the actresses were pushing, or indeed that they even understood the process at all. After some heated words with various parents I decided to give up the tradition of using children to fill the basic roles; this worked out quite well as the village have a campaign against child labour at the moment, however adult actors and actresses command far higher wages than their child counterparts. I was able to increase my budget by proposing to combine the nativity with the traditional Easter play, but there was still not enough.

I was at the point of despair when I realised that there was an encampment of asylum seekers en locum, and there where bound to be some expecting mothers who could be pressed into service on the cheap as it where. With careful selection I would be able to have a real performance from the Virgin Mary. With three Mary’s lined up, and all due to pop in the same week, I was able to concentrate on the other characters. Naturally the lawyers where a little worried about the lack of a proper Doctor being present in at the birth, so I was able to persuade a local GP to play one of the wise men – it is so easy to play on the vanity of people of this profession – which left me lacking two wise men, and a couple of shepherds – Mary’s husband ‘Joe’ was to be played by one of the asylum seekers, couldn’t speak a word of the language of course but it isn’t really a very important part. Thinking on my feet I decided to offer the part of the remaining wise men to children of the parish; there had been a lot of disquiet about the lack of child labour in the play, and I considered this a nice olive branch to the traditionalists. Further more it had not escaped my notice that these two roles were lacking in verbal dexterity and should not be beyond the capabilities of a 5 year old, thus saving on the budget.

The Shepard’s posed a more difficult problem, but a quick trip up to the Metrop. solved the problem when I passed through Shepard’s bush – homeless people are very cheap to employ, and where delighted by the shelter the village church provided. This left me with only one role to fill, however it was perhaps the key role; I refer, of course, to that of the Easter bunny. I experimented, with limited success, with real bunnies – they made no effort to learn their parts – and thought I had hit upon a solution when a former employee of playboy auditioned, however I was again foiled by the conservative elements of the village who refused to let her perform with only ears and tail, despite the vast weight of scientific opinion on my side – bunnies very rarely wear clothing in the wild – and despite my best efforts to convince Miss F’agina to perform with clothing, she quite rightly insisted on an accurate portrayal of the Easter bunny; and hats of to her for sticking to her artistic principles!

Indeed I am still auditioning for the role of Easter bunny (if you are interested please leave your name and e-mail address in the comment section). This problem has fallen somewhat from my radar in recent days however; during a dress rehearsal the other day one of our wise men ran from the church in tears during the scene depicting the birth of Christ. His objection, according to his mother who was most unhelpful, was related to the requirement for him to circumcise the baby Jesus. It had originally been scripted for the lead wise man (a trained medical doctor) to perform this act, however he is a known drunk and I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the baby come the performance. This little blighter steadfastly refuses to perform the act himself, and I am rather hoping that I can have the vicar have a few words with him – I’m sure there must be something in the good book about it. The second objection comes from the vicar himself; in my attempts to tell the story of Christmas and Easter in just under an hour I am forced to skip most of JC’s life – which also saves me having to find a grown up JC or any of his disciples. However this does mean that I am forced to depict JC on the cross as a baby, the vicar is most unhelpful about this point, even when I offered to substitute a plastic doll for the real baby for the scene where the Easter bunny nails him up he refused to budge. I fear that we have reached an impasse, and all my hard work will go to waste. I will keep you updated, but remember that we are still looking for an Easter bunny, this will be a clothed role, and the applicant should be female between the ages of 18 – 25, and available for the Christmas period, all applicants please leave their e-mail in the comments section, no time wasters please!

The links between October 1917 and September 2001

2005-12-01T13:40:00.000Z

The theme of the twentieth century was set in the October revolution of 1917, and was not resolved for another seventy odd years. It appears that the tone of this century was set on 11^th September 2001, when the planes smashed into the heart of New York and Washington. If the twentieth century is any guide to form, then we can expect the terrorism problem to last until the 70’s. With this in mind it is not unreasonable to suppose that the major players may not even have been born yet. While there are similarities between the communist/capitalist issue, and the present Islamic quandary, we would do well to reflect upon the fact that the cold war was played out mainly intellectually, and on neutral territories such as Korea, where as the present ‘war’ is likely to be brought to our doorstep by people who we have welcomed to our countries with open arms.

One question that is badly neglected is what motivates these people to do such terrible things. The answer peddled by the terrorists that their religion commands them to is tripe; while it is true that the Koran does encourage it’s readers to strive to convert the entire world to Islam, there is no hint that this should be achieved by the annihilation of all people of other religions. Religion is used as an excuse, as it has been throughout history; and we are just as bad, George Bush recently claimed that God told him to go to war in Iraq. Islamic terrorists seem to be reading a different book to the rest of the Islamic world, and are probably more dangerous to their Islamic brothers and sisters than they are to us. It will not be long before far right, Nazi style parties come to power in the western world, on a mandate to rid the world of Islam.

Western Islamic groups need to make a stand against these terrorists. Their lives, and those of their families, depend on it.

Death Burgers

2005-11-30T14:35:00.000Z

The Liberals, always alert to the issues that really matter, raised the subject of so called ‘Death Burgers’ yesterday. The Liberals where keen to make us all aware of the danger to smokers of eating killer burgers, according to Steve Webb who is rumoured to have been sporting that absent minded look that the people of this country have come to cherish on the faces of our ‘other’ party. The exact danger posed by these ‘Murder Burgers’ are unknown, no one in the house at the time was listening to the right honourable – as is standard practice in the house when a Liberal is speaking – but it is safe to assume that these burgers may well have access to WMD’s; Tony has ordered all Police officers to ‘Shoot to Kill’ on sight of any Burger. In response to this the soon to be announced leader of the Tories and old Etonian Dave Cameron, called for the Chicken burger industry to be moved to the so called ‘Axis of Evil’ along side such tyrants as Saddam Hussein and Gordon Brown to name but two. Naturally there are measures that we can take in the interim; attack your local McDonalds, burn down these havens of evil; let the streets run red with the blood of the purveyors of these things! Any member of our society who sells these ‘Death Burgers’ must be killed, with bird flu if necessary!

JA

My part in the Tibetan fight for freedom (and a big Hello from Norway)

2005-11-30T08:30:00.000Z

Just a quick post to tell you all about my new friend from

Norway

, Freddie. He left a message on my blog over the weekend (something that most of my readers don't bother with, with the exception of Al), and is an Arsenal fan. Apparently he is also in the shipping business, though I am not sure to what extent. You really should visit his blog (don't worry it is in English).

In other news; the cold is really setting in here in Surrey. I had occasion to venture out doors yesterday and was alarmed by the conditions. If I didn't have a jumper with me I think I should have been in danger of frost bite - it was just what I imagine Siberia to be like, but with less snow and no dissidents. Which is a shame as I tend to get on well with disaffected citizens, indeed I considered recently setting up a shelter for Tibetan opponents of the Chinese, a plan that was dropped when the danger of bird flu dawned on me, I'm no chicken and I have no wish to be turned into one by these weird tropical illnesses. Speaking recently to my Japanese friend, army man you know, General Nehow, I was warned of the problems within the Chinese boarders. Springs from the Chinese motto I'm told; "All men are equal, but some are more equal than others." Adapted I imagine from the old Etonian motto that Eric Blair used to such good effect in his book about farming.

Anyway I had better finish here; I feel one of my attacks coming on. I leave you with an old Celtic saying, which is so popular, up there...

"Goodnight! And may Gob, be wee, yee!"

World cup 2007

2005-11-30T08:25:00.000Z

The 2005 autumn internationals will be remembered for the attacking play of the All Blacks; however the real story is the

France

. It doesn't matter how good the Kiwi's are in attack,

France

- on their day - will always be better. If

France

rock up in the right mood they can destroy anyone, but on the other hand if they turn up in the wrong mindset they could probably lose to the

England

football team. Despite the reservations I have about the French temperament I am still backing them for the World cup; they have, remember, home advantage and the French league is a country mile ahead of its English counterpart. The one player who instils confidence in me about the French prospects is Frederic Michalak. He is such a talent, and while there are worries about his ability to control a game, he has the ability to perform magic, which makes a mockery of these doubts. Add to this the strength of the French pack, the pride the take in the scrum and the pace and artistry of their backline and for me you have the complete package. The All Blacks, as always appear to have shown their hand too early, and while

England

and

South Africa

will push

France

I just feel that the time is right for the French to rule the world. I for one will be very happy to see France win the world cup, the Nation of my birth are the current holders, but my blood is French and I will be proud to cheer my team to victory.

JA

Sir Stanley Morris works along side the Chinese

2005-11-28T12:45:00.000Z

A few months ago I received a very generous offer from the Chinese Olympic Committee. It is no secret that during the Cold War I made vast piles of cash working for the Soviets; my reputation as the worlds premier penguin trainer and my close links to high ranking British diplomats made me an attractive target for them, while the vast sums of money they were prepared to pay for my treachery were extremely attractive to me. I worked for the Russians for 10 years until, in 1978 my treachery was discovered; luckily for me I had assembled a comprehensive dossier on the establishment of the time, and when I hinted that this might be made public should I be punished for my misdemeanour I was offered a very satisfactory payoff.

I did miss the excitement of selling my country down the river, and of course the security of knowing when and where any nuclear attacks might take place, so you can imagine my excitement when the Chinese Communist party asked me to help train their Olympic hopefuls for the 2008 games. While I was over there I gather the Chinese training techniques got rather a bad press over here; all very unfair as the Chinese where good enough to let westerners in to see their techniques, but jealousy can be a terrible thing. What one has to remember is that the Orientals don’t think like us, and so one has to come up with different methods for training; during the war the Oriental motivation techniques came in for criticism from British and American troupes who where motivated to build railways. You see on the whole the Orientals are rather cruel races, and respond better to the stick, than the carrot – I imagine its something to do with the jaundice they all appear to suffer from.

As such telling an oriental athlete of the glory that lies ahead should they win will do little to motivate them, but threaten them with violence and they will quite literally go for gold. This ‘do or die’ attitude that the Chinese have installed in their athletes is inspiring, I only wish we could do a similar thing when our footballers fail to win the world cup; indeed it might not be a bad idea to kill them all even if they do win… but I digress. Now my job, for want of a better word, was to devise new incentives for under performing athletes; a job my public school upbringing prepared me for admirably. I can’t go into too much detail, but there was one female athlete who was not progressing at the required rate, a little 3 year old shot putter is memory serves, anyway she happened to have a younger sister, and so I hit upon the idea of threatening to cut off one of her sisters toes for each day she failed to improve, and I must say that once her younger sister had lost only 4 toes she started to show marked improvement. I look forward to 2008 when the performance of the Chinese athletes will provide a lift for all the disfigured Chinese citizens – and more importantly, my bank balance.

Sir Stanley

With God on our side

2005-11-27T14:45:00.000Z

George W. Bush leading moron, and quite accidentally leader of the American people, has spoken recently of how ‘Gob’ told him to go to war with Iraq. But who is this ‘Gob’, and why does he have such a big say in American foreign policy? Well the answer is simple – like the President.

‘Gob’ in not ‘Gob’ at all, but is actually a chap called ‘God’. Exact details are unclear, but it is know that this God fellow (always spelt with a capital G by the way) is probably around 2,000 years old. We don’t have an exact date of birth for him, but we do know that he had a son, Jesus, and that his son was born around 2,000 years ago. There are details in his biography, the Bible – available in all good bookshops. The book details the birth of JC (as he was known to his friends), including who was there. There where some shepherds, three Kings, and a number of wise men who happened to be following a star at the time. Apparently all these fine fellows would happily lay their hands on a copy of JC’s biography (the Bible) and swear that they saw him being born.

From what I can gather of ‘God’, he wasn’t a very pleasant chap; his son’s biography (the Bible available in all good chemists) states that his father had him crucified on a cross (the normal method at the time), for crimes that he didn’t commit; and got his mother, Mary, pregnant with out her even knowing that she was no longer a virgin. To make matters worse, he didn’t even have the bottle to break the news to her himself, electing to send his mate Gabriel – who it appears was on his way to a fancy dress ball at the time. So now you all have a better idea of the man who tells the President what to do…

Ps I have included a picture of a very confused looking George W. Bush, for those of you who like that sort of thing. JA

Jizz lovin' slut (that should get the perverts in)

2005-11-27T10:20:00.000Z

I found the following on someone else’s blog! v funny story, I think I would have laughed, but then I am well known for being a bastard!

I was in biology class once, and the teacher said there was sugar in sperm. A girl asked why doesn't it taste sweet then. When she realized what she said her face became red with embarrasment. Then the teacher said, because you taste sweetness with the front of your tongue, not the back of your throat. The girl started crying and left class ... iF YOU WOULD HAVE LAUGHED AT THIS IN CLASS pass it on!!!!!!

Me, hehe

2005-11-26T20:33:00.000Z

This is a picture of me, that I am uploading so that I can use it as my profile picture... v complicated but thats blogger for you.

In memory of Richard Burns: 2001 World Rally Champion

2005-11-26T13:25:00.000Z

Richard Burns, Englands only world rally champion died last night following a two year battle against a brain tumour. He was 34.

Worse things happened at sea

2005-11-25T21:50:00.000Z

In the time between the war and the death of Princess Dianna, Oil tankers have become, on average, 20 times bigger, in the same period dry bulk vessels have increased in size by a factor of 15. The shipping industries willingness to embrace economies of scale has seen the cost of sea transport roughly double since the 60's, while most other commodities have increased in price by a factor of 20. This means that the per cent age of the cost of oil due to transport has reduced from around 25 per cent, to less than 5 per cent. In real terms the low transport cost of oil has lead to a 37 per cent reduction in fuel prices.

JA

The narcissism at the heart of the NHS

2005-11-24T23:50:00.000Z

Dr Ann David, a 45 year old anaesthetist, of Basildon Hospital, Essex, has spent the past 5 years suspended on full pay (£90,000 pa) while the death of a comatose patient she is thought to have murdered is investigated. Dr David, who will no doubt be christened ‘Doctor Death’ by the media, is also facing questions over the deaths of 40 other patients. While these deaths, murders if you will, happened in Essex; it is still expected that there will be repercussions if she is found guilty.

This is not the first instance of a doctor ‘playing God’ – a role normally reserved for politicians, priests and God himself – Dr Shipman famously murdered a large number of his patients, so it is clear that there is a problem with the medical profession. It is my view, and I must stress that this is only an opinion, that the problem lies not with the training these fellows receive – modern doctors are encouraged to be both compassionate and respectful towards people of all back grounds – but in the sort of people attracted to doctoring (the little known technical term for practicing medicine).

The average person who is attracted to doctoring, and I stress the word average, is a self centred, egotistical, narcissist often exhibiting deep routed psychological problems. The reason these people are not picked up by screening is that psychotics are often exceptional actors, able to effect a superficial charm and warmth that deceives many, often even fooling themselves into believing that they wish to become doctors to ‘help people’ rather than to inflate their own egos. After a few years of saving people, they become (rightly so) bored, and begin to decide who should live and die – it is no coincidence that the highest profile cases happen in places like Essex and Manchester.

The only way to combat this problem is to pay our doctors far less, and to greatly diminish their status in society, force them to clean the streets on their days off, and take away their right to sign passport requests for example. If doctoring is made less glamorous, then these psychotics will turn their attention to other professions where they are likely to cause less harm, for example prison warding, or the army.

England look to find their Voyce

2005-11-23T16:45:00.000Z

England

head coach Andy Robison has moved to give

England

a greater cutting edge with the announcement of his team to face Samoa. The inclusion of James Simpson-Daniel in the centres will provide more attacking options, while the inclusion of Tom Voyce on the wing brings him long overdue reward for his prolific try scoring record at Wasps. Charlie Hodgson’s recent kicking form negates the need to include Mark van Gisbergen at full back, he may well feel aggrieved to have not featured in this series. Matt Stevens’s inclusion at tight head should give the pack a more dynamic feel in the loose, with Sheridan at loose head to provide the brute force in the scrum. Matt Dawson is rested to give Harry Ellis a chance to shine at Scrum Half, while Louis Deacon of Leister will make his début at lock. Deacon, seen by some to be Johnno's natural successor may prove to be the most exciting prospect in the long run, but all eyes will be on the likes of Voyce and Simpson-Daniel to see if they can provide some All Black style attacking play.

Painful memories (Part one)

2005-11-21T22:25:00.000Z

It all happened a long, long time ago; but my memory of the event in question is still very clear. Before I continue I should make you aware that I don’t like to talk about this event, but what must be endured will be endured with quiet dignity. Be warned that what follows may prove distressing; but I venture to hope not disinteresting.

101 years ago today Thomas D’Lainie, the only son of Lionel D’Lainie a peer of the realm, was found dead in a ditch; 10 years later war was to ravage Europe. While this has absolutely nothing to do with the story that I am about to relate I feel your lives will be richer for knowing about it.

90 years after Lionel D’Lainie was informed of his son’s murder and 78 years after his son’s killer was killed by a German landmine while on active service in France, I started secondary school. It was world cup year, and in a desperate attempt to avoid it my football hating father took the family to America, unfortunately he had not bothered to check where the event was being held, and we arrived in a country gripped with football, or rather soccer, fever.

After two weeks of wall to wall football, we arrived back on the island; due to England’s dismal record at sports we have invented no one in England had paid much attention (England had been forced into a boycott due to their inability to qualify), and father was most displeased to learn that had he remained in England he would have had a summer free from organized sport (his hatred of this is second only to that of organized religion).

Thus it was in an upbeat mood that I ventured forward to the big school. I should mention at this point that the school I was going to had well over 2,500 pupils – a rather daunting prospect for your average 11 year old, but I was fortified by my experience in the America’s.

More to follow, sorry can only write so much at a time before breaking down. JA

In defence of God and the King

2005-11-20T12:40:00.000Z

England

we have a tradition of setting off fireworks and burning effigies of a chap called Guy Fawkes every year on 5^th November. The reason for this is to celebrate how, 400 years ago this year, we thwarted an attempt by religious extremists to force us all into reading the Bible in Latin.

Yes that’s right, long before the Islamic terrorists made terrorism into the global fad it is today British Catholics where blazing (or at least trying to blaze) a trail. The history behind it all was that we had at the time a ghastly Scot as a King, who believed in the God created by King Henry VIII (the fat one with all the wives for you Americans out there). This God was more open to the trends of the day than the one favoured by the Pope and his buddies, for example divorce, and execution of troublesome wives.

The model the Pope was pushing at the time, although technically the same fellow that King Henry came up with, and the same as the one Moses and his little Jewish chaps idolised, was really rather conservative; like a Victorian father I imagine - although he was never described that way at the time. Old fatty was famous for his ability to become bored with women, and got rather upset when the Pope told him that he couldn't divorce his wife. To cut a long story short, he told the Pope where to stick it, appointed himself as head of the Church, and updated God and his buddies to suit his contemporary take on the world.

Many people in this country where traitorous and sided with the Pope and vowed to kill the King, and force us all to speak Latin (one imagines that they where all public school boys, a theory that stands up today when one considers the routine buggering of young boys by Catholic priests). At the 11^th hour Guy Fawkes was caught in the basement of parliament with a large amount of gun powder (hence the corporate slogan; Gunpowder, treason and plot), and was executed.

The pictures included in this article where taken on the 400^th anniversary of the event.

Preparing for winter

2005-11-19T13:50:00.000Z

Winter is setting in now, and as such I have been forced make preparations. As some of you will no doubt be aware, I play 5-a-side football on a weekly basis, but with winter setting in it became clear that a white ball was not going to cut muster any more. It has become too dark, and my performances where suffering, I remedied this by purchasing a yellow ball from Lillywhites in Piccadilly, and I must say the results have been top hole.

Metropolis musings

2005-11-16T22:15:00.000Z

I was in the Metropolis today on business matters, which detained me for much of the morning. I was fortuitous enough to conclude my obligations earlier than I had anticipated, so in order to occupy myself until a time when I could reasonably take lunch I decided to journey to the West End. At the time I was near the Tower, so the obvious route would be to take the Circle to Liverpool Street, then the Central to Oxford Circus; however I dislike both lines. Instead I decided to walk down Fenchurch Street to Bank, from where I could take the Waterloo and City to Waterloo, and the Bakerloo to Piccadilly Circus and walk up Regent Street. While I knew this would take longer, it allowed me to get some of the fresh air for which London is so ill famed.

Some time later when I was climbing the stairs at Piccadilly, I noticed – not for the first time – the curl of Regent Street. It occurred to me that the path of the street would perfectly suit the natural shape of my drive. The prospect of driving a golf ball round the corner, fading left to right, filled me full of excitement, and I came to imagine my next round of golf. The cut and thrust nature of the West End these days quickly brought me from the suburban delights of Surreys many delightful golf courses to the bustle of the Metrop. looking around I realised that I could obtain a driver and golf balls from Lillywhite’s for a very reasonable price. I would then be free to blast away to my hearts content, fortunately at that moment I slammed into the back of an Oriental who had stopped in front of me without warning to take a picture of something or other, I imagine that he was suffering from Bird Flu, and wanted to use up a role of film before he dropped dead. It occurred to me, with some sadness I might add, that I was going to struggle to create enough space for a proper swing, and moreover there where limited options so far as teeing the ball up was concerned. The upshot was that I abandoned the scheme, and launched myself into the task of finding a purveyor of food with gusto. Being mindful of the fact that anyone of the Billions of Orientals who occupy Regent Street these days might well be infected with Bird Flu, I opted to cut through the back streets to Soho, where I knew of a delightful sandwich shop, where I would also be able to obtain a strong coffee to warm me.

Following the initial path of the shot I had recently abandoned; and, I might add, with heavy heart, I set off at pace – the only available weapon I had to combat Bird Flu. And reached the eatery in record time, to celebrate this achievement I stopped in at Fortnum’s on the way back to assess the Champaign options, settling in the end on a bottle of Pink Champaign, as I find Champaign a little predictable at times.

I hope to persuade TFL to close Regent Street at some point in the future so as I might attempt the first hole of my new course.

The continued decline of organised religion

2005-11-13T16:55:00.000Z

At its height religion dominated the world; wars where waged, whole peoples persecuted and Kings and Queens had attempts made on their lives over differing beliefs. The trouble with religion is that while its fundamental function is to explain the world – thus satisfying mans natural curiosity – it has been used throughout history as a means of control over the masses.

The main trouble facing religion today is that Science, rational certainty, can provide us with many of the answers to our questions; I was once told that science explained the ‘How’s’ while religion explained the ‘why’s’ but now the boundaries are blurring. The major question that science can never answer; ‘Why do bad things happen?’ is also a question that religion struggles with. The model answer given by any unfortunate parson to be asked the question is a variation on ‘God moves in mysterious ways’ – a fine example of question dodging that Tony B’liar[*] would be proud of. Now that we have answers to age old questions we do not need religion for its original purpose; though as a means of maintaining social structure it could still provide a vital role. By rejecting age old religious beliefs we risk losing the opportunity of finding happiness; however we do restrict the ability of life to make us unhappy. Society needs to choose between the possibility of true happiness tempered with the risk of grave sorrow, or a middle of the road approach offered by rational certainty.

[*] Blair, sorry. JA

Tony loses key battle in the war on beards

2005-11-10T23:30:00.000Z

I feel very sorry for Tony; all he wanted was to have the power to detain bearded men – David Bungle[*] for example – for up to 90 days without charge. Most of us would agree that as PM he should be able to have these powers, indeed as a nation we need to make a stance against bearded men. However a curtain section of his own party, old socialists probably, who dislike his ‘Posh’ roots contrived to spoil his fun; and at the same time put us the people of Britain at risk. What I do find deplorable is the fact that the Tory party jumped on the political bandwagon: as posh boys themselves they should have been sensitive to the plight of Tony, who is after all one of their own.

[*] Blunkett, sorry. JA

Substation deaths spark highly charged night in Paris

2005-11-07T16:30:00.000Z

It would appear that the youth of

France

have a much higher regard for authority than their British counterparts. This weekend two young Parisian Negro’s died in an electricity substation, which they had hidden in after sighting a gaggle of coppers. It is thought that these young chaps where completely innocent, and got caught up in a chase between the Police and a group of rowdy immigrants from the estate. Witnesses – including one survivor – claim that the three youngsters scaled a 2.5 m (equivalent to 8 English feet) wall to gain access to the substation, after which they sort refuge in a turbine where they were electrocuted.

Unfortunately the fine example of cooperating with the police was not heeded by their peers, who took to the streets of the Clichy-sous-Bios suburb of Paris. Up to 24 police officers where injured in exchanges with gangs of youths. In light of this anti-social behaviour Nicolas Sarkozy, the French Interior Minister, pledged to rid council estates of their ‘hooligans’ hopefully to be replaced by compliant individuals like Ziad and Banou – the two individuals who died. If more delinquents where to follow the excellent example set by these two, then the problem of delinquency would disappear in a puff of smoke.

ps This post was originally written on 31st October 2005. JA

Kenneth Trandahl's memoirs: part one

2005-11-06T23:05:00.000Z

A brief history of the events leading here to, written on the eve of his execution by Kenneth Hugo Trandahl, first Supreme Holy Taker and founder of the holy Christian order: bene placito. I venture to hope it might prove not disinteresting to the reader.

With so little time to complete my story it is difficult to know where to begin; I suppose the most sensible course of action would be to begin at the beginning, continue till I reach the conclusion, and then stop. And trust that the Holy Father will see fit to provide me with enough time to complete my tale. I was born a healthy baby to English parent in the London borough of Chiswick. My father worked in the city, while my mother’s income was provided by an annuity.

A few months after my birth my father was forced to leave his job under some what of a cloud, we moved, initially at least, to Yorkshire. For this reason it will be understood that my memories of Chiswick are limited, what I do know of my time there comes from the stories my mother would tell me as a toddler; stories to which I see little point of eluding at this juncture. Like wise my recollections as to the reasons behind my fathers’ sudden departure from London are vague. We never spoke about it, indeed father and I rarely spoke at all.

Kenneth Trandahl's memoirs

2005-11-06T23:00:00.000Z

Kenneth Trandahl was today sentenced to death by hanging in an American court, where he had faced charges of heresy. The trial took place behind closed doors, and lasted less than a day. Trandahl’s memoirs will appear exclusively on this site in the days to come, I am unable to give details as to how Trandahl gets his memoirs out of the prison for the safety of his aids. There are campaigns afoot to overturn Trandahl’s conviction, however time is fast elapsing, and he will soon be dead.

JA

African Bird Flu: first case reported in Britain

2005-11-05T13:00:00.000Z

The first human case of African Bird Flu has been reported in

Britain

. The African strain causes victims to fall in love with post boxes in the first instance. The out break is thought to originate from a Newcastle medical student who visited the area recently. See attached pictures.

The first victim, believed to be called Miriam, should be considered (twin) armed and highly dangerous. She may be highly excitable, and should not be approached under any circumstances.

British clubland to be in Ecstasy under Cameron

2005-11-04T22:20:00.000Z

Tory leadership favourite set out his policy to win over the youth of

Britain

today; downgrade youth culture drugs. Mr Cameron – who will most likely be declared Tory leader in December when his party reject the former workhouse occupant, and fellow leadership hopeful, David Davis – offered this extraordinary olive branch to the disaffected youth of Britain just weeks after allegations as to his own involvement with drugs emerged. While Mr Cameron is still refusing to answer questions about his private life, especially with reference to drug taking, this latest twist in the leadership contest will serve only to add to speculation about his possible drug problem.

One associate, who declined to be named, hinted that Mr Cameron had at one time been spending over £1,000 a day on drugs; though he refused to give details as to the type of drugs Mr Cameron was acquiring, or as to whether they where for personal consumption, or for friends and colleagues. It is well known that there is a big drugs culture at Mr Cameron’s old school, Eton; Prince Harry[*], another Eton old boy, is known to like to relax with a big bag of drugs and a few ‘bitches’.

It is feared by some aids that in attempting to appeal to both the youth of Britain, and old Etonions in such a blatant manner that he will run the risk of alienating other groups, for example the elderly and former Harrow boys.

It is thought unlikely that this policy will let David Davis – who may or may not have been a chimney sweep as a child in the workhouse – back into the running, with the party faithful being to weary of his seedy origins, but it could leave him some way behind Tony B’liar[†], who is known to be very tough on drugs (despite his sons wild past).

[*] See Picture.

[†] Blair, sorry. JA

Trandahl facing heresy charges in US

2005-11-04T22:15:00.000Z

Kenneth Trandahl, who has been missing for just over a week, has turned up in

America

. Trandahl was last seen at Munich airport where he was due to fly back to

England

to face murder charges, which have subsequently been widely discredited, however he never arrived at Heathrow. It is now believed that the Americans kidnapped him from under the noses of British police, in order to try him on heresy charges in Texas. Despite the fact that Trandahl has never visited the

he has some how fallen fowl of their ultra conservative religious leaders, who take issue with his interpretation of the bible.

Trandahl is due to stand trial today, and if found guilty will almost certainly be executed.

Please click on this posts title; this will take you to Amnesty International where you can find details of how to help people facing unjust judicial process at the hands of blood thirsty regimes, like Kenneth Trandahl.

Pictures of the 'Liv' kitten for the Sister

2005-11-04T12:15:00.000Z

Katherine, as promised here are a couple of pictures of Liv for you. If you click on them you should be able to save them.

JA

Pro European Conservatism?

2005-11-03T21:30:00.000Z

With the Conservative party choosing forsake Kenneth Clarke's pro European views in favour of the old Etonion David Cameron, is the time right to create a new political party in this country? With the conservative party in a rut, and the Liberals widely viewed as a capable provincial party, but unable to tackle the responsibilities of government, now is the time for the left of the Conservative party to join in with traditional liberals and form a pro European alliance to battle New Labour. What is left of the conservative party would then be free to join forces with UKIP, and the BNP. This would create a workable three party system, with two strong parties representing the views of the vast majority of moderate sensible people, and then a loony far right party for the racists and euro piles to vote into third place at every election.

Naturally these two new parties will need new names, and while the Conservative/Liberal alliance would probably wish to use New Conservative I would strongly advise against this: the public would quickly see through this attempt to copy New Labour’s revised name (a lot of people in Britain are actually fairly observant) and would be likely to lose faith in a party who can’t even come up with an original name. I would advocate a name that reminds the people of the rich history of both the Conservatives and the Liberals, while distancing the party from the Conservatives of recent years, and encouraging the people to view the party as their own. Something along the lines of the European Social Liberal Party might be good, although the inclusion of the word European might put off the little islander in us. While the Liberal/Conservative party’s name will require some thought, the name for the party emanating from the right of the old Conservative party and the BMP and UKIP is obvious, and moreover already in use. The only possible name this party could adopt with out the use of the word racist is The Monster Raving Loony Party.

Ps I enclose a map of Europe of people that like that sort of thing.

Down and out in Betis and Chelsea

2005-11-02T11:10:00.000Z

So Chelsea have lost! Shock horror, we can thank Jose Moron(eo) for our national holiday tomorrow! We had all been assured that Russian side Chelsea where unbeatable (over 90 minutes that is) by famed grease ball Moron(eo), and I confess that I was taken in by these lies. There is something about this former used car sales man that takes one in, I can’t quite put my finger on it, possibly it is the conviction with which he makes his statements. Still he has now been exposed as a fraud, like all used car sales men, and we can all move on. Parts of South West London – and

Russia

– will mourn(oe) for some time; but on the whole the world will be a better place.

Serving God can be electrifying

2005-11-02T10:50:00.000Z

While performing a routine baptism, softly spoken cleric Rev Kyle Lake, 33, was struck down by God’s electricity. The Rev Kyle Lake of Waco, Texas – a state well known for it’s moronic residents (George W. Bush to name but one) – was reportedly up to his neck in the soup (a colloquial term referring, in this case, to baptism water) when he grabbed a microphone at the University Baptist Church. Doctors present in the congregation made attempts to revive the good reverend, but to no avail.

Church officials are believed to be investigating the death of Rev Lake, and it is believed that God, who is known to move in mysterious ways, may be involved in some way. Rumours persist that the Rev Lake may have offended God in some way, leading God to murder him; it is well known that God, who is thought by many to be a kind, caring person, is capable of acts of barbaric cruelty – famously having his own son crucified on a whim.

Personality not policy will win in the end

2005-10-30T21:34:00.000Z

The Conservative leadership contest is all but over: David Davis metaphorically raised the white flag this week when he took the bizarre decision to concentrate on policy not personality. While to the casual observer this may seem to be a jolly sensible decision when one takes into account the fact that Mr. Davis appears not to actually have a personality, one must remember that this is in effect a popularity contest. The party faithful don’t care about silly promises, they care about an energetic, charismatic personality who can out Blair Blair.

If Mr. Davis is to get his campaign back on track – and it must be stressed that it is unlikely he can – he must deny these silly rumours that he comes from a working class background. He is up against a man who went to Eton, and in the Conservative party class will out. The party members can hardly return a man as leader who by rights should be cleaning the other candidates boots now can they?

Mr. Davis would then be well advised to attempt to draw Mr. Cameron on his own policies – thought to include reintroducing slavery for anybody who did not attend Eton, and bringing back hanging for offences such as petty theft. It is true that in the modern era many party members did not actually attend Eton, and while they would be loathed to vote against one of their betters, the thought of slavery might just be enough to force the to do the unthinkable.

Terrorism: Why bother?

2005-10-30T21:30:00.000Z

How can anybody of intellectual background and upbringing take an active part in Western society with out resorting to satire? On one hand we have corrupt politicians, business men, civil servants, etc; all taking back handers, or using their positions for their own interests. While on the other hand we have Islamic terrorists, who are – quite rightly – angered by this world, but through some bizarre twisted logic, feel that the only way to make them selves heard and change things is by massacring innocents.

As soon as some one turns to terrorism they lose all credibility. Any arguments they might come up with to justify their actions will never stand up in civilised society; even a certified loon – like George W. Bush – can persuade the populous that terror is unacceptable in any situation (unless it happens to be against known, or suspected terrorists of course).

This begs the question “How does one change the world?”, plenty of men and women with noble intentions enter the world of politics and business every year, only to lose their ideals when power and money are banded about. The system protects itself with alarming ease against the enemy within. So if the system can not be changed by acts of terror, or by electing ‘good men’, then how do we change it? Or more realistically, make it better?

For an answer we should look not to democracy, but to dictatorship. The one thing any dictator worth his salt does well is to control the press, information. Modern political regimes do not spend vast sums of money on spin doctors and PR companies for fun you know; control information and you control the people. The most effective way of challenging these people is to agree with them. Challenge them head on and they’ll paint you as a crack pot, or discredit you in some other way; but argue – badly – on their side, and you expose their failings.

Sir Stanley’s choice

2005-10-30T21:19:00.000Z

My dear avid readers, as I sure you are all looking forward to this announcement with some glee I will keep my introduction to a minimum; over the years I, like my father before me, his father before him, and his grandfather long before him, have all been active members of the Conservative party. My Great Grandfather, Sir Basil von Gurringburg (we where forced to change the name around the time of the First World War), was of Liberal persuasion, but we don’t talk about that anymore. Anyway I seem to have lost track some what… oh yes I remember, yes my family are Conservative through and through, except for my Great Grandfather, who I have no doubt you will have heard of. And as such I always make a choice in all leadership contests. In 1997 for example I backed William Hague – making a not insubstantial amount of money at the bookies I might add. I am in the fortuitous position of retaining absolute control over a large number of Conservative party members; who My Great Great Grand Father, Lord von Gurringburg, took the decision of not allowing secret ballets in his constituency. Through a combination of inbreeding, and violence to be perfectly candid with you, the family have maintained control of all elections in this area for centuries now. For this reason my choice has a rather unfair advantage over his opponents. Oh on that matter Cameron is the chap I will be backing; I thought about Clarke, mainly because the odds where jolly good, but then he was booted out of the race. Dr. Fox, I am reliably informed, is a former Disc Jockey, and is anyway out of the race anyway; while there are rumours – as yet not denied by Davis – that he might be working class, and as such a Bolshevik. And anyway Cameron went to my School, Eton, and looks like a jolly good egg. Don’t know the family personally, but I am sure I will be able to find dirt on him from one of my friends in case he does become PM.

Sir Stanley

Love

2005-10-30T21:18:00.000Z

Love: more words have been committed to paper on this subject than any other. The greatest writers the world has ever seen (surely read?!), Shakespeare, Betjeman, Austin, Milligan and perhaps most notably Wodehouse, have all contributed their respective thoughts on the matter. The most notable thing about love is the difficulty in quantifying it. Small children use arms flung impossibly wide to express their love; poets prefer to fill oceans and valleys with the stuff, while most mere mortals will profess to loving someone “more than the earth”. And while love may prove too difficult to measure, it really shows its slippery side when one comes to define it. I for one HATE it when people talk of “love at first sight”, for me the very notion of falling for someone at first sight is absolute rot. How on earth can one possibly be in love with someone that one has never met, or spoken too – only seen “across a crowed room”?

I believe in LUST at first sight, I doubt there is a man alive over the age of 15 who hasn’t experienced it first hand – and from what I gather of the other sex (female for those of you who are slower on the uptake), it is undoubtedly true for them too. The intriguing thing about love is that it can grow from so many differing origins, of course lust; I know of a small number of people who have found love through the magic of lust, hate – it is amazing how many people professing to hate somebody on minute, later wind up in love with them. And famously love can grow out of both pride and prejudges, though this appears to be restricted to the upper classes; God bless ‘em.

My personal view of love – and as this is my personal site I feel entitled to express an opinion – is that it is an emotion that grows, often with alarming lack of speed. There can never be said to be a definitive point where two people fall in love with each other, indeed the likely hood is that one person will be in love before the other. Love grows out of learning more about the other person, love is lead by human instinct, and normally the people in love are the last to know. Love is possibly the most dangerous emotion there is, in terms of its ability to hurt. No one can hurt you more than someone you love; for this reason it is advisable to avoid love like the plague (or more contemporary; bird flu). If you never fall in love then nothing can really hurt you, people may call you names, but you’ll be immune to their barbs, people may ignore you, but if you don’t care for them, then it will be no more than a minor irritant.

When I have had some time to give this subject more detailed thought I will no doubt return, with some (hopefully) insightful thoughts. Watch this space.