Dumbing down, or up.

Who’s noticed the dumbing down of TV? Well I have and I’m annoyed.

We have cable telly, but I think it’s the same on Freeview and Sky, the renaming of channels for the hard of thinking.

It started with ‘Dave’ I don’t know why that channel is called ‘Dave’ but it is and that’s ok. But sooner than you know it, there announcing new channels…only to be revealed as old channels being renamed. Stupidly.
For example, Eden…a channel about the earth. Roughly. Then we get Alibi, a channel dedicated crappy old police shows, then Blightly…a pile of shite relating to all matters UK.
Now, instead of UK History, we get ‘Yesterday’, soon I wonder, will get Discovery Science being called ‘Tommorow’. Mark my words, the folks that own TV channels think you are thick enough for it.

Tell you what, when they rename any of the porno channels ‘Tits’ or ' Ass' that is when I ditch the telly and start reading books.

I read a book once. Green it was.

More...No work.

Being of the great unwashed and the ‘being paid to stay at home Honda types’ I have taken on the worthy role of househusband.
This new role has been briefly described before in the first of the ‘no work’ classic pieces here (check archives) but some of the detail of my new life here at the towers hasn’t. So here it is.

I have not made a habit of being ‘the person that goes for the shopping’ its not a man/woman thing or a her job my job type issue, its just that I am rubbish at it. It might be more accurate to say, I don’t have the correct attitude for it, because I can actually do it…. I know because I am now.
No the problem doesn’t really lie with me, its you, the public that are the problem. You think you own the supermarkets I go to…you don’t. I do.

Apart from always seeing some lovely ‘must have’ stuff on the shelves when I do the shop, and I am dealing with / getting therapy/being lectured, for that, the big problem with going shopping is other shoppers.
This week I, and I know this a cliché but this is true, the first problem I encountered was out of the many hundreds of shopping trolleys I could have picked, I picked one that one wheel had a mind of its own.
The wheel would attack other trolleys by propelling the whole trolley towards other shoppers while I wrestled with it to not.
Although by the time I had finished shopping, the mad mental psychopathic wheel was dragging its self away from anywhere I tried to push it, because unlike me, even the mad mental wheel who’d escaped from a murdering mad mental top security wheel jail, didn’t want to run the old biddy’s over that I wanted to.

The thing is, all I want to do is go around picking up the stuff off my very strict….. The ‘I will not buy cakes, liver or sardines and beer’ (things I like but are bad/detested by ‘The Missus’)…list. It’s as simple as that.
This is not leisure time shopping where I need to stroll up and down the shelf’s, thinking things like ‘ mmm, that might be nice…I wonder if there’s one at the back with a shelf life half an hour before the 100 cans in front, mmm that would be nice in blue. That’s everyone else.
No, I’m looking at an SAS type oppo, in out, get the hell home.
But you…ladies and pensioners that lurk at ASDA, no, that’s not what you want. You want to hang around the place as long as possible because your not burning coal or leccy at home if you’re here. No, you want to hang around until they start putting yellow stickers in stuff so you can save 5p and possible get a dose of food poisoning that will get you into hospital to save even more coal and leccy.

There are no rules of the road in supermarkets either. Its kill or be killed, push when a bit of courtesy would have sufficed and if you can, obstruct every other road, no, shop user you can.
The way I see it, if you need to give the section a good looking at to find the thing your after, you must stand in the middle of the isle with your trolley at a jaunty angle to stop anyone else (me) navigating round you. As on the road, if you are a swine, do not make eye contact with the ‘obstructed’ other wise some ancient primeval instinct of manners will compel you to move..And you certainly don’t want that.
You know I’m going to stop there so you don’t move.
This is very dodgy because its lucky I’m the writing type and will only start into the writing realms of the perfect psychological breakdown of a person who if they owned a gun a terrible thing would happen and a town where that person lived would be having TV crews from far and wide turning up for all the wrong reasons.
Just passing thoughts and pictures in my..Going slightly mad head.

Suffice to say, that if you are in ASDA and a 6ft2 person with wild flashing eyes and a toiurettes type chant, with a trolley that is coming towards you, with no beer cakes, liver or sardines in it, you had better side step. That isle is MINE.

Valentines Day

Sometimes the thought just doesn’t count.

Women/wife’s/girlfriends will say to you ‘we won’t bother with cards’ or at birthdays or Christmas, ‘we won’t go overboard…ok, we’ll set a limit’.
You being a normal, rounded human bean will think this very reasonable heading off in that direction quite merrily, thinking ‘what a wonderful woman’ or the likes. When you do, you are doomed. Once in your life you will fall for this crap.

You won’t fall for it twice though if you have any sense. Because if a woman says any of the above to you, it’s code you must learn for … ‘if what you get me is small, cheap or you have spent less than I have, you will be learning that celibacy and silence are the least of the worries that will be befalling you’

Please don’t think me misogynistic/chauvinistic, it’s just I’ve been round the block.

Ladies the truth might hurt, but not as much as it hurts us men.

The only time a woman says no and really means no, is when she says ‘do me normal and keep away from my arse’. Or so I’m told!

No work

Recently I mentioned that I had become one of the great unwashed, the work shy, or to put it more accurately and not to make myself out a proper waster…’the being paid to stay at home from working at Honda type person’
Well it’s kicked in; I am officially…not working.

I am wondering if any of the other 2 or 3 thousand Honda ‘we are not working brigade’ are reading this crap and having the same type of day as me. Here is how it is going.

10.30 am
Get up. This is not really lazy because I didn’t’ go to bed till 3.00 am.
It’s not easy catching up on a neglected video collection.

Fire up kettle and have first coffee off the day. Coffee is good as a morning drink as it is cheaper than beer or whiskey.
Beer and whiskey are the pleasures of an evening after all, and what’s to get up for? If not in preparation for another jolly evening 7 day weekends are ok when you are not working at Honda, but are, but aren’t.

10.40
Switch on computer to see what is new in the world of cyber space. See if any one is reading this shit. Think about visiting a site designed purely for a gentleman’s relaxation, but don’t. However did you know that short fat beardy people spend an inordinate amount of time looking at and indulging in gentlemen’s relaxation techniques? This is because they have less ability to control base urges, due to their low centre of gravity. Anywho, I digress.

11.00
See if setting your Virgin/Sky plus box has successfully taped Trisha.
Trisha is nice.
If it has, watching Trisha, while still in pyjamas and dressing gown, supping coffee.
If not recorded, watching an episode of Time Team from a era that Tony Robertson still had hair and that sexy woman archaeologist, Carenza was still on the programme getting slightly dirty digging, but having an inordinate dirty, not slightly, effect on me.

11.35,
After Trisha/Time Team, before having a bath/shower, deciding I definitely look shite in ‘the Missus’s’ undies. Or is that just me.
Don’t you people bath/shower?


12.00
More coffee, Loose women on ITV1 while wrapped in towel. Or if warm enough, boxers..Why bother dressing? If you dirty clothes you will only have to wash and iron them.
Ironing and washing badly are new skills I have been blessed with and am learning how to avoid.

1.30 ish
But dressed, because ‘The Missus’ comes home for lunch around this time.

Watch Jeremy Kyle. Because even though you are going to be on 60% of your wages in a few weeks you like to feel better about your self by watching the human traffic on this show, knowing that even on 60% wages, you will still buy shampoo and soap and will not buy all your clothes from Primart.

2.15
More coffee, ‘The Missus’ goes back to work so I rearrange stuff around areas where ‘The Missus’ is likely to look when she returns, like near the biscuit tin, by the kettle and next to the Rum bottle. The reason..to look like I have been doing something all day. Well she’s been doing for years and fooling me. As if I give a shit.

2.16
Watch the second Jeremy Kyle of the day on ITV 2. Feel even better because you truly believe your offspring are your own, without the benefit of a DNA test.

3.00
Think that maybe 3.00 ish is not too early for just one beer.

The rest of the day will have to wait till next time. You can though compare with your day, is this all ok? Do you put your time to better use?


Because we are all mates, here’s a gem.

What's the difference between The Rolling Stones and an Aberdeen sheep farmer?

The Rolling Stones sing: 'Hey you, get off of my cloud.'

And an Aberdeen sheep farmer says: 'Hey McLeod, get off of ma ewe.

Offence

Jeremy Clarkson this week apologised for calling Gordon Brown ‘a one eyed Scottish idiot’. Well, being two thirds of the phrase myself, I’m not insulted, offended or bothered.
Carol Thatcher this week lost her job because she used the term ‘golliwog’ and the Queen swiftly stopped selling the little blighters.
Jonathon Ross recently came back to work after an ‘offensive’ prank; he had been effectively ‘voted off’ by public demand.
Prince Harry recently caused a storm in a teacup and upset granddad, Phil the Greek, by calling his friend a ‘Paki’. Prince Phillip thought the use of the word ‘friend’ highly inappropriate.

In all four cases the perpetrator of the heinous act hardly showed great intelligence, so why did…in fact, who, got so offended, or was it a bandwagon jumping frenzy created by our friends ‘the media’.
One person’s stupidity doth not a breakdown in society make.

I think Clarkson says the type of things many people in everyday life say. Thatcher is from a bygone generation/class, as for Ross; well he’s just an idiot. Harry is just a boy.
None of the above is a crime.

This country seems obsessed with finding a reason to be offended, but I say this not truly convinced that it’s true.
I suspect what is more accurate is that in these as in so many cases, the minority voice is the loudest and for the fear of offending a few Spanish waiters, wearing a kilt with one eye and a liking for black fluffy dolls, who’s in the army, we all agree with the flock, saying…’oh, that’s terrible’.
Sorry but I don’t.


If that offends anyone, I don’t give a shit.

Mighty Putty.

Click on the Mighty putty title.......

The first time I saw this I thought it was real.
If it isn’t it should be and I want some of this stuff…

The power of adverts.

US AND A

I don’t know why the good ole folks in the US of A are so pleased about voting in a black president.

Zimbabwe has had one for years…and look where that’s got them.

Honda

I now am on an enforced break for 4 months, I don’t work at Honda but the company I do work for relies on them for about 99% of our work.

Today (Friday) was a really bad day at work because in spite of Honda’s claims that no one is being made forcible redundant, the same cant be said for those company’s that keep Honda making cars.
Today I saw many of my work colleges being escorted from the building, not to return. They face a very gloomy future in this town because if your looking for a warehouse or drivers job, you will be looking for a long time and forming a very long queue if you are lucky enough to find a vacancy.

All of this week the usual faces seen in my normal daily routine have been disappearing as other company’s in the same position as ours make their staff redundant too.

We had a visit from ‘Jobseekers plus ‘ (I think the ‘plus’ bit means the added bullshit just isn’t hidden), this week to assist those that faced redundancy and advice what benefits and help they could expect. I will sum up what that means…. not a lot and little. The world of the jobcentre and unemployment is a world unknown to me and to be honest I don’t care to look too deeply into its murky sad door.
But as I said earlier, many of my fellow workers will be in that world now, not because they did something wrong, not because they were lazy, not because they didn’t conform to rules or failed to do their best. No they lost their jobs through no fault of their own and a thing that was given a name that sounded innocuous and something greedy bastard bankers had to concern themselves before we did…. the credit crunch.

I am one of the lucky ones, for 2 months at least I am paid for being at home.
Many good, decent people today are now in a situation that no one could have foreseen as early as 6 months ago.

From boomtown to gloom town in less than a year.

Mr Grumpy Goes to the village fete.

Mr Grumpy goes to the village fete.

Mr Grumpy is going to the village fete. ‘The Missus’ packs a banana and jam sandwich for gutsy Mr Grumpy. Doesn’t ‘The Missus’ sound kind? Funny old English language.

‘The Missus’ says “have a nice day but behave yourself”. Mr Grumpy says he will. See the glint in his eye.

Mr Grumpy has promised a lift to two of the local WI ladies who will be entering the same fruit, veg and garden competition as Mr Grumpy. Mr Grumpy likes 'the older lady'.

Mr Grumpy carefully packs his Victoria plum samples and his giant marrow into the dusty car boot then sets off.

When Mr Grumpy arrives at the ladies house, the garden path is blocked by their prize exhibits in large plant pots. Worse still it’s started to rain. Lucky Mr Grumpy is wearing his wellys. Clever old Mr Grumpy.

Mrs Frontage sees Mr Grumpy arriving and shouts from the window. “Hello there, come round the back, our plants are ready there on the path but we'll have a cuppa before we go. Besides this shower will water the plants nicely”. Mr Grumpy sees the large plants are getting damp from the rain and skips round the back as instructed.

Mr Grumpy sits at the table with Mrs Frontage and Mrs Jones. Mrs Jones is from Wales. See the wild look in her eyes, there’s a welcome in her valley.

“Do you like your cake Mr Grumpy, it’s spiced fruit dumpling. I’m entering it in the cake competition again, and I won last year”, says Mrs Jones. Greedy Mr Grumpy does like the cake it is very spicy though.

Mrs Frontage says “those are nice wellys Mr Grumpy; you can’t beat the real thing. My boots are leather and look, they chaff a bit and hurt, I really love proper wellys”.

Soon it is time to go. Mr Grumpy loads the car and the ladies comment on Mr Grumpy’s competition entries. “That marrow is one of the best I've seen, and if you don’t mind I'll use my hanky to polish your fruit up a bit”. Mr Grumpy says thanks to Mrs Frontage as she uses a bit of spit and polish and they set off to the fete.

Mr Grumpy wins second prize with his marrow but soon it is time to go home.

‘The Missus’ asks how the day went.
“‘Well”, says Mr Grumpy, “first I picked up two of the WI ladies. Their bushes were so big and wet I had to use the back door. Mrs Jones' dumplings were lovely, they really made my eyes water. Mrs Frontage was admiring my boots. Whilst she showed me her well worn parts, she told me she’s always preferred a rubber upper. Later she said my prizewinner was the biggest she'd ever seen whilst she wiped my plums with tissue”.

Can you imagine the strangest place to put a prize-winning marrow without the benefit of lubricant? ‘The Missus’ can. Poor Mr Grumpy.

2008. a year between 2007 and 2009 only?

So that was it. Another year gone, another year older and no wiser than when it started. Or are we.
We lost the likes of Eartha Kitt, Harold Pinter, Heath Ledger, Isaac Hayes, old hands like Widmark and Newman and Bo Diddley and good old gun toteing Charton Hesston and recently Oliver Postgate. Paul Burrell is still alive but his celebrity status, career prospects and any sense of decency are deceased.

Its easy to mention those who provide entertainment or are well known in life to mark a years passing by remembering their contributions in the year of their passing, it serves well and is a common feature of year reviews. But this year might be easier remembered, as the year that the brown sticky stuff hit the air circulation device, heralding that the future, financially anyway, will be at best bleak and at worse, well lets just say, its will be dripping from the afore mentioned air circulation device, or fan and Eartha Kitt, if you are of the hard of thinking.

But that, the above, is as downbeat as this little ditty is going to get. I, like many in 2008 have realised that my future (my Honda related future) is not as secure as I thought it was when buying ‘ Grumpy Towers’ a few years back, as I nonchalantly decided redundancy and unemployment insurance wasn’t required quoting “ Ha! Reduncy my arseium! (Mmm… I hear you muse, he speaks Latin) Where’s Honda going! And besides, there’s plenty of work in Swindon” Three exclamation marks are well placed, for there was plenty of pointing and self-assured gesticulating.
So, rather forced, because redundancy is hanging like the Sword of Damocles I am looking at different and interesting employment options. Can’t really say what at the moment but quite a change from shouting at cyclists from a big truck.

All in all 2008 has been ok for us at the towers. A grandson, good health, close relatives beating dire medical conditions, being paid for the first time for writing nonsense, not committing murder upon ‘da youff’ who infest the towers, all features of the past year. So really my complaining has just been done for sport.
But I have a gut feeling 2009 is going to be a toughy. I just hope I’m indulging in my normal pessimism.

So Anyhoo. To anyone who reads this guff (is there anyone?), thanks…and haven’t you got anything better to do?
I hope 2008 has been kind to you, may 2009 not be too hard on us and if we get to 2010 unscathed….lets try and annoy people on the way. I will be.

Happy New Year.

Opposition

Opposition

The Cameron thing last week, thinking he needed people to remember him, announced that the Tories agreement to match the current government’s spending plans, are no more. He says they are ...well basically wrong. So if the Tories do get in at the next election come 2010/11, they will be going it their own way, good old cut price Tories.

You could be forgiven for saying 'so what' because you may be thinking as I am,
1/ how does anyone know what the financial climate will be then?
2/ will Cameron get in?
3/ I'm already fed up of his whinging and sniping at the government.

I don’t think (and I may not always be right but I'm never wrong) that this country will ever change (in peace time) while we carry on the adversarial style political argy bargy we have burdened ourselves with, i.e. the need to oppose for the sake of opposition.

You can hardly see these days the difference between red and blue in this country's politics but the country’s democratically elected government is constantly berated, criticised, rebutted and undermined. I'm no great flag waver but don’t we all know that one lot is no better than the other. Shouldn't we get behind the government of the day?
Who would have thought it,...well I have... I think Gordon is the man for this moment. The leaders of the world seem to think that too. The same policies seem to be being employed the world over in an attempt to avoid financial Armageddon.
The much related to 'confidence factor' can never be achieved when every measure the government take, the opposition lampoon.
In this, I salute the liberal party leader, but I can’t think of his name, such is his effect on general proceedings. But at least he’s supporting the Government albeit grudgingly.

So, it’s the opposition’s duty to oppose. The question. Should it be? Or does all that Punch and Judy nonsense over the dispatch boxes in parliament make you despair too.

As an addendum to this piece I wrote last week, I should mention Alistair Darling’s attempt announced yesterday to borrow/tax this country out of recession.
It would appear that every politician, every political commentator, every shopkeeper and their dog, think he’s wrong. Is he, isn’t he? Or do the media look for whiners to interview.
All I see is more booze, fag and petrol tax, a dose more national insurance and a measly 2.5% cent off a bag of cement. Great! Oh sorry… ‘it’s the right thing to do’. That’s the in phrase.

New blog,

All posts are now being made to my new blog at the attached address.
Just click this entry and ...By the magic of the interweb and modern science...Your there.

Us men

I've been under the weather recently, the flu or a cold, or I suspect something far more serious that really is deserving of a generous dose of sympathy.
So you can imagine my dismay when informing Mrs Grumpyshyscotsman ( who will be referred to from this point on as ' The Missus') of the terrible state of ill health I was in and how god only knows how I could actually work, that she retorted with a unreasonably long and far too detailed account of how she had woken up feeling 'ill'.

Now I ask you, is this a right and proper way to deal with the health and well being of a spouse (me) . I mean, there is no way she could have matched my cold/flu symptoms. I also think it was rather selfish of The Missus, to pick the same day to , well lets face it, to 'feel a bit off color' ( in comparison of course ).
As I said, this aliment I have is probably something really bad, something I should get checked out quick-smart, because thanks to the internet, I have a wide and in-depth knowledge of medical matters. Again, as I have said, The Missus's complaints ( and that's what they are ) I very quickly managed to diagnose as, possible trapped wind, 'wimmins' troubles or lying in bed too long.
I haven't mentioned my interpretations of her symptoms yet because for some strange reason, that makes me think it is in fact , number two of my diagnosis's...'wimmin's' troubles and it would be a brave man indeed to go down that road.

So, to sum up, I thought it might help my body if my mind was clear, that's why, even when I should be in my sick bed, I decided to share my thoughts on this interweb thingy. It hasn't worked.
So its plan B for me, a whiskey toddie and off to bed.


This rant is not intended to offend 'The Missus'

I want to be a lesbian

Yesterday I attended my first civil ceremony, or Gay wedding if you like.

I didn't get round to writing anything about it last night due to over indulgence in very straight red wine and slightly gay champagne.
First off, I have to say, I come from small town Scotland and we don't have any people of that persuasion up there. I had never met any one who 'gets on the other bus' until I settled in England.
That being said, you might think I could have some hang up's or phobias or the likes ,you know, coming from a place where there are definitely no gays. And equally the opposite would apply to big town dwellers where all would be accepted as part of the diversity found in a multi cultured, liberal society.

So, imagine my surprise when I had to tell people at work why I was taking time off, at the titters and sniggers there were.
This made me cast my mind back to recent radio features I'd heard ( and the ones from when civil partnerships were first introduced) and how public opinion is so split on matters of personal sexuality and lifestyle choice.
I remember how people phoned in to vent there spleen and quote from the bible and how 'angry of Tunbridge Wells' spoke of outrage and fire and brimstone.

Well here's the rant you may have been expecting.
You may, if you are straight Anglo Saxon, Protestant and anally retentive, think you have the right to criticize or have an opinion on how a section of society, live there lives. You may think , given how straight you are, that the only relationship that is 'right' is one between a man and a woman. You are wrong.

The civil ceremony is in my opinion ( and I may not always be right, but I'm never wrong) long overdue for people to publicly express there commitment to each other.
The one I attended yesterday was a honor to attend. Every one there witnessed two people who love one another , pledge there future to each other in a way that's been too long in coming.

It really doesn't matter what bits fit into where, or if you wear a vest or a bodice, or if you like lemon or pink, or even if you walk 'a bit funny' , if more people were like my friends , the world would be a happier, more pleasant place.

ps.

At the celebration meal afterwards, I ate a gay mans cheese. How's that for a small town Scotsman.


This rant is not intended to cause accidental offence to Anglo Saxon, anally retentive small minded eyebrow raisers. It's deliberate.

Politics , Political correctness and being 'PC' and people that don't agree with me.

Politics is always a dubious subject but I will only be skirting round the edges, like a politician really.

Local politicians are the worst type and social workers come into the same category, as well as campaign organisers and people that phone in to talk radio shows. They seem to be completely removed from reality.

The vast majority, and there's a phrase I will return to, have some sort of minor speech defect, have 'interesting' morals, wear the uniform of the unfashionable suit, once thought they were radical, think they can change the world and/or ..... make a contribution.

Although led by politicians, political debate seems to have been hijacked by those who are in the minority. For instance, imagine the silliest issue. I'll make one up for the sake of not picking on anyone. Lets say someone has been emptying their bin on the pavement. The local council are contacted by enraged householders, somehow the local paper/radio get hold of the story, then (and remember, this is made up) the national press/TV latch on.

Now, this is where I have been leading to (thought I had better say for the 'hard of thinking'). You can bet your life that after the enraged citizens have had their say, some bright spark will get their tuppence in about human rights (we'll come back to human rights..... oh yes) and the right to do anything they like, because they are taxpayers.

In the case of phone in radio, someone will call in, who has knitted their own cardigan from yoghurt, will be sporting a wild beard (male or female) will be wearing corduroy trousers, will be a vegetarian, will have had their holidays away from tourist areas and has a speech impediment and they will, without any doubt in their mind, defend the scumbag that empties their bin in the street because:

• a) its recycling and will make great compost
• b) the council should collect the said offenders bin from his scummy kitchen when its full, and
• c) why shouldn't he empty his bin on the street, its a free country.

Ok, all this seems a bit far fetched, but next time someone commits some anti social act or says something exceptionally stupid in public, just tune in, read the columns, someone will be in favour and stick up for the scumbag/criminal/politician.

The politically correct brigade too get too much coverage in the media. Who are they anyway, because they have us all brainwashed.

In the old days (pre mid 80's) you could say what you liked. You never thought if what you said might upset some Peruvian goat farmer. But now, you had definitely not complain about itchy jumpers because its racist and you have to put up with a bit of itching if you're going to support 'fair trade'.

So, if Rio Ferdinand says faggot on the radio, or George Osborne cracks a joke about autism, you'd better not laugh, or even ignore it. No, you had better send emails to someone high up , if not, you should certainly fume a bit.

Not only are these things part of modern life, language has changed for the worse too. I blame the PC brigade for this as well. You can't apply for a job anymore, no, you need to fill a 'role'. You don't phone for a man with a van anymore, no, you need to find a 'logistic solution's consultant'. There are firms all over the place offering 'solutions' for things.

It's not that long ago that people advertised 'services' and that was good. Now, if you look for services in the local rag or the yellow pages (ok, even the yellow pages ... aren't), the services you will find are normally at the back and Lola and bored lonely housewife are only too keen to provide whatever service you require, without any mention of a solution.

Back to 'roles'. It would seem if you are 'dynamic' or a 'team player' or even 'proactive', you are ideally suited for a 'role'. I thought you had to be an actor to have a role or even if you are a lorry driver you can probably have a roll .... with bacon on it.

To sum up, let's cut it out. We, I, am a majority. We can do without all this nonsense. Let's call a spade a spade or any other implement we want to call it. If you get hung up about that ......expletive deleted.

This rant is not intended to cause any offence to Peruvian goat farmers.

Shouting at the telly

First off, when I started this blog, I thought it would be the right thing to do to use international words, meaning words that the yanks would understand.
I.e, ass, not arse, or even bottom. Or, tomato not tomato, and of course TV, not telly. Well sod it, I've changed my mind ,if you don't understand , gowd blimey guvner, sod off.

So I have been shouting at the telly again. I do this a lot. They are trying to dumb us down, bring us down to there level and I'm not having it. Today DIY programs are on the receiving end.

Right, it seems to have spread, but who first started calling rooms 'spaces'. On every home improvement/make-over program its the same, they go into a room/garden/barn/field/small island and what's the first thing they say...Oh, what a lovely space.
That kicks it off for me. Rooms/gardens/barns/fields/small bloody islands have spaces within them, they are not spaces in them selves.
If bloody Laurence Lllyellen Silly Cuff's or Sahara Beanbag, or that one off the DFS advert ever go into a house and say...mmm nice living room, nice kitchen or lovely bathroom, my hat is eaten. I think the temperature of my head is safe.

While I write this, having mentioned bathrooms, I was wondering if anyone else has ever considered this to the extent I have.
Anyone got one of those shower puff things ?, you know the unfurled pot cleaner thingy. I,m sure like me you do. You cant have a sponge or a flannel these days, you can't buy such things nowadays, unless from Halfords and they have ' car washer ' written on them.
Is this the most common showering procedure....Put shower gel on puff ( lets not go down the soap road....) work up a good lather on chest ( or pubic area) then wash face, arms, legs in that order then arse. You obviously wouldn't wash the old back door first would you, it has to be last.
So, next day its in the shower again, where did you last wash with that thing.......

Anyway, that's a deviation from the telly shouting. Has anyone else noticed/get bugged, by the space thing . Maybe you never noticed . Bet you do now.


This rant is not intended to cause offence to the Yanks, or the ever pregnant Sahara Beanbag, who is welcome in my space anytime she likes.

Visit to hospital

I have to visit the hospital on a regular basis for a long running ailment that I won't go into at the moment (it's not anything to do with bits better not mentioned) and having turned up at the correct time today, I had to wait the normal hour and five minutes or there abouts. That said, I had the chance to 'people watch' for a while. I am not any kind of pervert but one can't help but notice that nurses come in various categories.

1/ drop dead gorgeous. 2%
2/ stuck up 10%
3/ mumsy 88%

Now you may think this is harsh, but I think it's about right. Even the 'drop dead' ones are perhaps only 'drop dead' thanks to my appreciation of the modern day uniform. The stuck up ones are usually the ones bent on promotion and I would wager, bent as well.

The majority of nurses, according to the press, TV and word of mouth complain that they are under paid, under valued and over worked. I don't want to sound rude (sod it, I will) but I bet they are valued highly at the local cake shops, and work extremely hard achieving that value in their constant visits to such establishments. As for underpaid, well maybe, but spend less time in cake shops and your income would go a lot further, I say.

If this sounds cruel, sorry. But if you are going to keep me waiting for over an hour and give me the chance to think such things, well nursey, it serves you right.

Having said all this, most of them (Bar the stuck up/bent ones), nurses are good sorts, they work hard and move slow and more than likely tell their husbands (or partners, same sex or otherwise) what hard days they have had. They probably tell them of dour blokes with 'why am I waiting faces' who stare too much at them and probably tell them all this over a nice cup of tea and a lovely cream cake.

This rant is not intended to cause offence to anyone who works in the NHS or people 'who get on the other bus'.

First post

Well here we go, the first post.
I'm not really sure where to start, but I thought I would start this blog to rant on a bit about the everyday things that set me off.
I don't think I can be alone in this and having reached the grand old age of 45, I feel writing just might help reduce my stress levels, and give me something to do rather than shouting at the TV.


Its hard to know where to start, so many things are just so annoying. Its not just the fact that I notice these things, its the fact that these things are being accepted into everyday life without comment or question. I don't really want to just launch into a list of irritations ( but give me time, I probably will ) it's more than likely been done before anyway. What I will do in this opening post is ask the question....Am I grumpy? Or am I alone in my thoughts and attitudes.

Let's get going.

THE YOUNGER GENERATION.

Ok, I inherited twin boys , they are now 14, its a second marriage thing. I have already brought up twin girls ( my own ) and they have turned out ok. That is probably due to being brought up in the late 70's and 80's, things were good then. Oh yes.
Back to the boys, its not them , but the world they are growing up in. They have never thought anything for years, no, they have fought fings ' and been 'finkin about stuff ' .
Am I alone in wondering when the T H went out of the English language ? . Mind you, they are not half as bad as the 'nouveau thick' I oft hear out and about and on TV and radio.
Are the inhabitants of the inner city, people from da street, da youff, Or indeed kids from down the road, convinced I/we are deaf when they speak to us ?. Because when I hear them talk on the radio or TV, or indeed down the road, and they ask, 'you know what I'm saying' or ' you know what I mean' , at the end of, or in middle of each sentence.
I really want to tell them, why yes, I indeed do know what your saying and yes of course I know what you mean. You are saying you know very little and you have no confidence in what you are implying . What's more, you are hinting that you doubt if I have the intelligence to understand your incoherent babble . Oh and by the way, why don't you take those ear plugs out from underneath your hood, that way maybe you will be able to here what I am saying. Also, why are you talking in a Jamaican / London accent, you're from middle class downtown Swindon.
But no , I don't say that, I say nothing like the rest of us. I mutter a lot.

Hey, leaving the plot for one line, try saying 'beer can' without sounding like a Jamaican asking for bacon. It will bug you .

Come to think of it, did your mother ever tell you to put up the hood on your duffel coat when you were young?. If she did, and you complied, I bet you took it down pretty smartish as soon as you were out of her all seeing gaze, no matter how cold it was.
Did you ever have a sweat shirt with a hood, when sweat shirts were first invented? I bet if you did it was only ever an annoying hump underneath your jacket, because really, you wouldn't be seen dead wearing a hood. Or, what used to be called a pom pom hat. They love them these days. Why, I thought global warming was making it warmer?
Won't it be funny when strings attached to gloves that go through the arms of your coat come back into fashion, how will the youff know what we are laughing about.

Another thing about the younger generation and the not so younger generation that should know better.....Mobile phones.

Mobile phones are great things, they keep us in touch, they enable us let our wife's know when we will be home for tea, they embarrass us when they go off in quite shops with our carefully chosen and witty ringtones that cost only £1.00 to download, and £3.00 a week for the rest of your life.

All that's well and good, so why when a group of, lets call them 'the young', but they are not the only culprits, yes, why, if there's a group of ' the young' gathered together in social or recreational situations, possibly never to be repeated experiences, have they got there phones welded to there ears. Can they not enjoy the time they in, with the people they are with, it seems not.

In the good old days, we enjoyed a day/night out with our friend's and those that couldn't be bothered turning up, we may have spent 2p on phoning them later to gloat about what a good time they had missed. A small pleasure, but well worth 2p.

I have no doubt the subjects mentioned in this first post will be visited again, but that's it for this session.

No offence is intended to manufacturers of duffel coats, ringtone sellers or Jamaican's in this rant.