Pearl necklaces and other chokers......

OK,I have added the GoGB latest set of rules within the link to the cast...please take a look and any additions are most welcome! Just email me from the link or drop a comment in.

So farewell then Holland.......nothing else to say except that all football stuff will now appear on the ChelseaBoy link which I have added to the side. This is my new area where the Chelsea and football stuff will reside whilst this blog will just continue with my inane ramblings and rantings.

So farewell then...Timbo..,Henners....President of the All English Chokers Club. I did fucking tell you all this would happen. This man (sic) is without doubt the undisputed king of the chokers. No-one compares to him. Every year he says "I can win" in that whiny fucking voice, every year the wimpiest pumping fist comes into action (I've seen sites about that!) and every year loads of dumb arsed, stupid, gullible middle class housewives and bored fucking students turn up at Wimpledon (pun intended) to cheer this absolute Mr Nice Guy No Hoper fucking loser on, when for the rest of the fucking year they couldn't give two shits about Tennis or Tosser Tim.

And every fucking year he loses.

As for these so called fans, and this apparent Henmania, well I don't see them avidly travelling the world to watch their once a year choker , unlike our heroic long suffering football, cricket and rugby fans. Nah, once a year they make their way to Henman Hill in the increasingly faint and desperate hope that he might win. Nope,it ain't gonna happen. Still, as we will no doubt hear and read over the next few days..there's always next year. No doubt we'll keep wheeling out the real winners such as McEnroe or Becker to reassure us long suffering English fans (coz the Scots, Welsh and Irish sure as hell don't give a shit about him)that we can have a winner. We really are a desperate nation, clinging onto any faint hope that some sort of sporting prowess will make us love ourselves again, and make the world like us again.

Perhaps if we stopped thinking we were the dogs bollocks and had a divine right to win things that might help. Perhaps if we stopped sticking our nose into other peoples business that might help. Perhaps if we embraced other nations instead of treating them as "Johnny Foreigners" that might help. Better still, if we dropped the notion of honourable unlucky heroic failures from our national pysche and adopted the US/Aussie/German....frankly the rest of the world mentality that WINNING IS EVERYTHING instead of bringing our kids up, like we were bought up to believe that taking part, and doing your best was honourable enough, then we might start winning things. And people might like us for more than our spending power again. Just a thought.

Still laughing about the nature of Big Chiefs departure...proof that what goes around..comes around. Proof also that Seagull Management, whereby you fly in, screech loudly, shit on people and then fly off will eventually rebound at some point. Because at some point you'll shit on an Eagle (nice USA link Jack!)and they will always fucking beat a Seagull.

Please also have a look at the Diamond Geezer link because tis is the dogs danglies of blogs at the moment. Diamond Geezer obviously has more time than me. I can only aspire to this level of blogging.

Later, GrocerJack

Pipes, Tubes and Strings…….

Well fucking well….the Big Chief has resigned for “personal reasons” and "to pursue other career interests". Interesting when you consider how may careers he fucked up here during his tenure. Interesting also when you consider good people were devalued, humiliated and "eased" out of the company. The Big Chief reports to the Head Chief who in turn reports to the European Head Chief who in turn reports to The Global World President (El Presidente). Apparently The Big Chief worked for The Head Chief some time ago and they hated each other then, and it seems things are no different today. Head Chief is a yank, Big Chief is Canadian so methinks there might be some traditional geographical rivalry here. After all Head Chief’s position is just that notch above Big Chief, which loosely relates to the relationship between the good ol’ US of A and Canada….yeah alright the gap is much bigger on the world stage whatever Canadians might like to think. Anyway Big Chief was a fucking ignorant rude, ill mannered, foul tempered pig of a man, whereas Head Chief seems very…….LA West Coast….almost a greying hippy. He seems very calm and one can imagine him meditating, or passing a spliff amongst his senior team. Apparently when Head Chief was appointed (6 months ago) Big Chief found out via the internal company intranet…errr exactly the same way as the rest of us plebs! The proverbial shit hit the fan then and Big Chief spent the day in his office with the door locked, bottom lip unfurled the length of the office and with his phone switched off. For this sulk alone, added to the obvious inferiority complex he has (or will get) by being usurped yet again by a representative of Uncle Sam this miserable piece of ignorant scum gets full membership of the GoGb (see postings passim). Welcome aboard Big Chief. If I ever see you after you’ve left…..expect some intense fucking verbal abuse. I hope it fucking hurts.

That means yet another re-org as Apprentice Big Chief takes over shortly and will undoubtedly want to “mark his territory” by putting his mark of Cain upon our somewhat unjolly and demotivated department. Another change for The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department. Will this affect Jack…who knows? But if I were the Sandman or the Sandman’s boss (yep that makes me that low in the organisation) hereinafter known as The Godfather, then I might be worried because they will be under the microscope first.

Tubes of a different kind now………….some comment on the tube strike, Bob Crow (Big Chief of the RMT – does that stand for Robbers, Muggers and Twats?) is a fucking prat and a Millwall fan to boot. He calls strikes for shite reasons such as “public safety”…or “the future of our transport system” ….yeah dress it up as a public spirited action eh Bob! When he uses these bullshit reasons all I can think of is he’s a liar and a wanker. If he just came straight out and said “I’m a tub thumping socialist radical trouble making bastard who wants to make a name for myself” then that would be fine, but to hang this shite on the tenuous premise of being public spirited is just complete bollocks. However, in defence of this strike I have to defend the RMT and Mr Brainless Crow. Striking for a decent days pay is well within the law and is justified. For too long in this country we have doffed our caps to the Government or Big Companies and allowed them to shaft us in order to deliver “shareholder value” or cut costs. Britain sold its workers souls down the river under Thatch and New Labour Nannies have done fuck all to re-dress the balance. So, like the French do, I applaud strikes done for the apparently selfish reason of “more pay” . Its time we re-discovered our balls in this country instead of meekly accepting everything the government (national and local) and our employers do to us. Bob “brainless” Crow…I take my hat off to you and your Union on this occasion.

Fucked your journey to work has it? Some solutions to get over this happening again

1.) Get your employer to install Broadband and then use VPN technology to work from home as if you were in the office..its both cheap and dead easy
2.) Buy a pushbike to do the 5 mile journey to work
3.) Get a job outside London (like I did)
4.) Walk
5.) Use the overground railways
6.) Use buses…there are fucking thousands of them
7.) Throw a sickie
8.) Take a well earned days holiday
9.) By a scooter or motorbike
10.) Walk down the tube routes…Ok that’s impractical…electrocution and all that……….wait……..why not shut the tubes down and convert them to well lit, warm underground footpaths and cycle paths! Blimey we could have underground shops and even underground flats for those die-hard commuters. Can anyone think of an objection to this? Apart from making a few mangy old rats homeless this seems an environmentally friendly and cheap to run alternative.

Fuck me I really like that last idea! Apart from the fact that I actually enjoy riding the Tube no matter how desperate it is getting. In fact, my real view is that we should extend the tube to all Towns and Cities, incorporated with systems similar to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) and then link all the cities with High Speed (and I mean 150mph plus) train links run by a nationalised organisation at no profit, but as a public service and yes….heavily subsidized by taxpayers like they do in France. Life is not all about profit.

Later, Grocerjack

This Weeks Work of Art - The Old Market in Rouen - by Camille Pissaro (1830-1903). Painted in 1898 and currently on display at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Pissaro was very acclaimed whilst alive and can claim to have Paul Gaugin and Paul Cezanne amongst his pupils, as well as the American Impressionist Mary Cassat.

I don't know what grabs me about this picture as it goes against most of what I like, in that its an almost traditional picture. Pissaro himself is classed as a French Impressionist, although the level of impressionism is lower in this that you might see in a Monet. It just seems to me that the artist has captured the absolute essence of a market in a French provincial town that would stand its ground even today. In a sense its almost claustrophobic, with all the buildings huddled together and the people bustling their way through. The use of colour is interesting as well, with predominant use of beige and light brown with flashes of Orange and Green to bring the eye to certain areas of the painting. It isn't as challenging as some of the stuff I like, but it is simplistic in certain ways and good on the eye. Perhaps thats the appeal. Comments? 

A bad week continues…….grumpy as hell

Although the week wasn’t that bad for me apart from the Sven disaster, my friend The Major and The Major’s Wife had a very bad week. The Majors Wife had a close friend who died suddenly and the funeral was last Tuesday. She was very distraught, as most of us would be at the death of anyone close, related or not. On Wednesday she went into work and was made redundant on the spot – no notice, fuck all. So confidence slid alarmingly. On Friday The Major went in to work……yeah you guessed it…only to be made redundant with no notice. What a shitty week for them. Of course as friends we are all trying to help, and Frankly The Major seems quite matter of fact about his loss of job as he was expected to work ludicrous hours for little pay and virtually no holiday. In a way he sees it as a bit of an opportunity to get a new start. I wonder if I could deal with something like this so dispassionately…..could I bollocks!

Today I received an email from the company I bought Theme Park Tickets from. A year ago we booked for the holiday in Florida, the one off for the kids that you’re almost obliged to do at some point. We got a great deal on the villa and booked 3 weeks in August. Then the email arrived – the company selling the Theme tickets has gone into administration….fucking joy! £1200 may well be down the pan. I bought them on May 24th, so all we can hope for is that the credit card will cover us via insurance. It has shaken my faith in Internet Shopping big time, and after all the re-orgs at work, the cuts in money by loss of standby, and GMD’s contract in London finally finishing we could do without potentially lobbing £1200 into some crooked bastards pocket. As you may gather this has made me very fucking annoyed…watch this space to see if I can put enough rockets up arses to not be out of pocket. So, plenty of diplomacy required then…..perhaps GMD should do it then!

So, the US hands power to Iraq two days early then. How about 6 months too late! I, like a lot of people am tiring of the daily stories of death and destruction emanating from Iraq and if this belated gesture helps bring the violence to an end (although I doubt it) then that can only be for the good.

No sleep, bad emails, sad friends, shite weather, study backlog, stroppy daughter (more on Teenager later)….no wonder today feels rather bleak


Later, Grocerjack

If only...number 3 in a periodic series of ...if only pics. Note the authors name!Apparently Becks has vowed to continue as Captain, which is wrong in my view. However, I do wonder if the recent Sun/News of the Screws revelations fucked his mind up a bit? They certainly didn't help, so thanks to Rupert Murdoch and your scumbag, low-life cockroach journalists in your moronic arse wipe papers. Job well done!  

The truth about last night? 

Things I know about football……..or Grocerjack 4-Sven Fuckwit 3

Sven’s team talks at half time must be shit because when we come out for second halves we look like a lost cause (as when we played Argentina, Brazil, France and now Portugal). I remember after losing to Brazil, a senior player, when asked what was said at half time quoted "We wanted Winston Churchill...we got Ian Duncan-Smith". Nuff said.

Sven got the tactics and substitutions terribly wrong last night. He sent huge signs of capitulation with those last two substitutions

Scolari (the Portuguese coach) kicked every ball, headed every header, felt every tackle. Sven looked a little exasperated at best, and McLaren sighed occasionally. Bring on Sam Allardyce and get the passion back.

Defending a one goal lead is tantamount to suicide, it rarely works.

English footballers are chokers as are most English sportsmen/women (Rugby team are exceptions for the time being). Stand up Tim Henman, the supreme choker and Life president of ECC (English Choker Club).

In the Premiership all of those players would be trying to score goals, so why do they heed what Sven says?

We are shit at penalties

Beckham is not a leader – time to hand the captaincy on. Maybe like Botham he can then be the player he was two years ago.

Why take Joe Cole and Kieron Dyer and then bring on Phil Neville and Owen Hargreaves? At least Cole (greedy) and Dyer (fast) would try and take the game to Portugal.

Phil Neville wouldn’t get in my local pub team. Never darken the England team again.

Owen Hargreaves in NOT international class, he’d struggle playing for Leicester

Emile Heskey is absolved from blame as he didn’t play last night. Still a donkey though.

David James should hand over to Kirkland from Liverpool and quick

Paul Scholes cannot perform for England. He is a spent force.

Ashley Cole was superb (that hurts coming from a Chelsea fan), so was Sol Campbell.

Hats off to Gary Neville, Frank Lampard, Michael Owen, Stephen Gerrard

For me the tournament is over. I have 6 football free weeks until the Premiership starts.

I will never see England win a major football tournament in my lifetime (1966 doesn’t count because I was only 4 at the time!)

I am emotionally spent and cannot summon enough to pledge allegiance to any of the remaining teams, even my adopted future homeland of France.

From now on it must be Club (my beloved Chelsea) before Country for me. I do not have enough emotional and passionate currency for both. When Sven goes I will allow myself to be bothered again.

I know the last statement will disappear at the next England game,

I know my Club will let me down at some point this coming season.

Later, Grocerjack

if only 2........ 

If only..... 

Auf Wiedersehen Deutschland....

So, farewell then Germany. They played to the same game plan as Italy did when they failed to qualify, and the same game plan England used unsuccessfully against France - i.e protect a one goal lead. Too risky and the price was paid. So, thats 3 big names out at the Group stage and tonight is Englands big night. I was torn over this. On one hand do I treat it like a Chelsea game and isolate myself from the world, or do I invite my friends over and go through the unfurling drama with them? In essence my Chelsea policy remains sacred, and so I have decided to watch the game with a few mates and some beers. It will be agony. There may be some ecstasy. If it comes down to penalties then I will wear my "I can't hear you la la la " hat and wander off to the fields near my house. Penalty shoot outs must be endured in an isolated place both blind from the action, and deafened to the ambient noise of cheers or groans. I have adopted this policy 3 times for England now, and we have lost on all 3 occasions, surely it must work at some point?

The GoGB now has an academy and now offers the following development opportunities for the fairer sex

Training courses now available for women:-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

1. Silence, the Final Frontier: Where no Woman has gone before.
2. The Undiscovered side of banking: Making Deposits
3. Combating the Imelda Marcos Syndrome: You Don't Need New Shoes Everyday.
4. Parties: Going without new outfits
5. Man Management: Discover how household chores can wait until after the game.
6. Bathroom Etiquette 1: Men need Space in the Bathroom cabinet too
7. Bathroom Etiquette 2: His razor is His
8. Communication Skills 1: Tears - The last resort, not the first
9. Communication Skills 2: Thinking before speaking
10. Communication Skills 3: Getting What you Want, Without Nagging
11. Driving a car Safely: A skill you CAN acquire
12. Party Etiquette: Drinking your fair share
13. Telephone Skills: How to hang up
14. Introduction to Parking
15. Introduction to Petrol
16. Advanced Parking: Reversing into a space
17. Advanced Petrol: How to take the filler cap off
18. Water retention: Fact or Fat
19. Cooking 1: Bran and Tofu are Not for Human Consumption
20. Cooking 2: How Not to Inflict Your Diet on other people
21. PMT: Your Problem...Not His
22. Dancing: Sober Men Don't Like To
23. Sex - It's for the Married Couple too
24. Classic Clothing: Wearing Clothes you already have
25. Household Dust: A Harmless Natural Occurrence only Women notice

Later, Grocerjack

One of those days……

This morning I had a meeting with The Walrus, minus his new assistant, Wee Lassie. Wee Lassie is not a reference to her being a dog, more of where she comes from. Which is Scotland. She is lovely, jet black long hair, elfin face, pale white skin and a great figure. She is 25, therefore I am firmly in the realms of GoGB crisis. I should concentrate when she’s there, but I guess for purely genetic reasons I just can’t! Anyway before I digress into a spiral of mid life crisis - I was spared this dilemma this morning because she wasn’t around. The Walrus interrupted me at every possible opportunity, didn’t listen to anything I said, sponged a coffee from me and sat there with his vast belly showing through an undone button in his shirt. I don’t remember finishing a sentence. After 15 minutes of a 90 minute scheduled meeting I was starting to lose my patience with him to the point where I wanted to walk away or smack him one, but then the phone rang. It was The Mysterious M – I was never so glad to have to answer the phone to my boss! His message was short and sweet - I now own the relationship with Big Telephone Company and Desperate Dan Ltd (they won the tender against all odds for outsourcing some of our work) and I will also be picking up my new team in around 3 weeks.

Within seconds of saying “Thanks M” I realised my opportunity here. The phone was dead but I carried on an imaginary conversation along the lines of

Jack: OK M, but I’m sure we covered that off
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: Well, if you say so, but can it really be that urgent?
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: You’re asking me to shelve a lot of plans for today…
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: Well, I guess if Big Chief wants it done I have no choice…what…he asked specifically for me…well I suppose that’s a compliment then
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: OK M, I’ll get right on it, I’m sure no-one will mind me cancelling meetings for the next 2 days…
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: See you in 5 minutes for the full debrief then….
The Imaginary M: silence
The Walrus: Listen mate, it sounds like you’ve got bigger fish to fry…..I’ll leave you to it….Good Luck…and if you need any help…well you know….I’m always happy to help you

And with that he was gone.

And was it my imagination but was he looking sad and lonely?

I feel guilty

Why?

He was a complete pain, rude, ignorant, arrogant and judgemental. Am I getting soft? Even 3 months ago I wouldn’t have given a shit and would have said something (diplomatically) to his face, but now I’m reduced to false phone conversations. What the fuck is happening? Should I call him and tell him the truth? What happens next time if he is like this? Or does he know the truth and didn’t want to hurt my feelings?

Management Gobbledygook Bollocks talk…

Try this for size, this is the latest from Big Chief (two levels above The Sandman)
Summer is here... We have had a bad run in May in terms of keeping all the systems up and in-service; hopefully we will have a better June. The financial results for April and May are stable but not quite hitting the mark at the top line, but seem OK at the bottom line. Today we will sit as the investment committee in order to significantly reduce the number of active, inactive and proposed projects …wish us luck... we have never been terribly successful at this... Why ... to focus and increase efficiency….and effectiveness. Even though we have more CAPEX than ever before, the number of projects contending for investment and resource commitment for technology and humans is higher than ever before, and even though we never reduce the total number of projects to exactly fit the budget (because projects often under spend against the business case)... we need to get a bit closer and to leverage more synergies from our global positioning within a UK context.

Clear? Concise? Inspiring?

Or just complete bollocks?

Later, Grocerjack

A Quickie

The Belfry was tough, very tough, with punishing rough, bunkers with sides like the North face of The Eiger, greens so fast it was like putting on glass. Sunday we all got gloriously pissed and the organisers took every opportunity to take our money...for Charity of course. All in all we raised around £5,000 which The Company will match so £10,000 overall, which is no mean feat. I drove home listening to the England/Croatia match...it was torture but it alone was responsible for keeping me awake at the wheel.

Tonight I appear to have slept for 6 months! I had a small doze when I got in from work...when I woke it was cold, the sky was dark grey, a gale force wind was blowing, and the rain was absolutely torrential....therefore I can only conclude that it is now December and Chrismas is near. Dontcha just love the British Summer? Still, I guess all the health facists who run and hide whenever our nearest star rears its glorious but rare yellow face will be happy, along with those people who moan the minute it hits 70 and like wearing coats all year round. Umbrella anyone......?

Euro 2004 comment

Well done to Sven Fuckwit! Yep, the boy dun well. We played good passing and attacking football, without fear or trepidation and got what we needed to progress to a quarter final match against the hosts Portugal. Wayne Rooney was sheer class, but I hope the media don't pressurise him like they did with Gascoigne and ultimately lead him down a self destructive path in the same way. As for any criticisms, well it would be churlish to pick out any players as they all contributed to an exciting and enthralling game. Anyone notice how when Heskey has no involvement we actually win games?

But before we all start offering Sven a national blow job, lets see if we can get to the semi's and better still win the fucking tournament and add to the pride that the guys who play the game with odd shaped balls bought to us when winning the World Big Peanut Hugging and Egg Chasing Cup.

There, Humble Pie slice well and truly eaten.....happy now?

So,farewell then Spain.....once again the bridesmaid but never the bride. You always promise so much and deliver so little...perhaps our Government could find a role for you? With that pedigree you'd fit perfectly into a role running the UK!

So, farewell then Italy. Once again,you came, you saw, you defended, you bored people and you got your just desserts. Maybe you should look to England to see how sometimes it can be good to attack the opposition (blimey another huge slice of Humble Pie for me please).

Tomorrow night its either Holland or Germany to bite the dust. Holland are probably the better side and for the good of the tournament it would be nice to see them through, although they will be a handful to beat, but Germany are nowhere near the force of old and would dull other teams into submission. Altogether now... Dear Lord, Let Germany lose, let Germany lose, PLEASE LET GERMANY LOSE !

Joke - What do you call an Arsenal fan holding a bottle of Champagne?

.......Waiter!


Later,Grocerjack

This weeks Work of Art - another superb piece from the great man Van Gogh. This is called The Night Cafe. Full of evocative atmosphere, when you stand close you feel like you are actually entering the Cafe. Ask yourself these questions to help the critique - is the guy waiting for you to play billiards with him, or has he just beaten you? Is he looking at you, or past you? Is he friendly or wary? Are the couple at the back married or just "friends", and the 2 people on the right - are they plotting? Drunk? What are they talking about? Are they talking? And what could be in the room at the back..another bar? A brothel? The clock says 10 past 12, but is that afternoon or night - just because it is called The Night Cafe may be a diversionary tactic by Van Gogh. There is just so much happening , or potentially happening, or has happened that this painting can grip for hours. An absolute masterpiece and the first one I had to do a critique on when I did my Art History course with the OU. I hope you like it, but if not then please comment one way or the other. Later, Grocerjack  

Euro Footie Comment......

Tonight we saw the Mighty Germans play out a 0-0 draw against a battling side in nthe "minnows" of Latvia. Right after this was the game of the tournament and probably the best international match for some years. The Czech Republic beat Holland 3-2 in a real end to end thriller, with 37 shots on goal, a sending off (unjustified), fantastic striking of the ball, great passing and top class goalkeeping. But what really made it stand out was that Holland had a 2-0 lead and the Czechs fought back with 3 quality goals. This means the Czechs are through to the quarter finals and means Germany must beat them to go through. If they draw and Holland beat Latvia then Holland will progress, which would be the fairest result as the Dutch played a much more open and skilful game than the Germans. I hope the England boys were watching.

No blogs for a few days now as I am playing golf for the next 2 days at the annual company golf bash. The company always match the proceeds of the days and last year 60-odd golfers raised in excess of £4000 for charity, which the company doubled. This year we are playing the Belfry and quite frankly I'm shitting myself. I'm taking about 30 balls just in case!

Later, Grocerjack

A Quickie

I thought we played shit against the Swiss, but at least the result was right for us. However, unlike the press I will not get carried away with the idea that we can win this tournament - we are distinctly average and if we meet Sweden, France or Italy I think they'd all roll over us. If we get past Croatia then perhaps we can improve as the tournament goes on, but our previous history doesn't really back the view that we can win.

Gary Mann, the idiot firefighter convicted in Portugal is set free by Uxbridge magistrates on bail and seems unlikely to serve his sentence of 2 years. Seems my "anonymous" comment poster was right about wishy washy judges because this stinks. Great, so now he can go and get pissed and start a ruck in a pub in this country. No wonder this country is going downhill when we overturn decisions made in a democratic country with similar laws to ourselves. All of this despite independent English witnesses who pointed the finger at him in court.

Anyway, I'm just off to rob the local bank, doesn't matter if I get caught because with the right judge I'll probably get a commendation!

Later, Grocerjack

Big day.....

Well, it's finally here, the day we've all been waiting for. The Big One. We've been here before, we've suffered the pain of watching defeat snatched from the jaws of victory, we've followed the thrills and spills, the incidents, the bad decisions, the inspired genius of top class sportsman at the peak of their capabilities, we've seen their form slump and felt for them as it withered on the vine. The passion, the tension, moments of heart stopping brilliance, and of seeing people choke on the tension. And all to try and win the big one, the prize that eludes all but the very best....

Yep....the US Open starts today and can a Brit bring home the bacon for the first time since Tony Jacklin? Or will Tiger Woods game rise like a Phoenix from the ashes of a disastrous year top once again conquer all before him. My money is on Vijay Singh, or Ernie Els.

Euro 2004 Comment

Apparently we'll playing the diamond formation with Frank Lampard from my beloved Chelsea playing in a defensive midfield role, in front of the back four. Paul Scholes will sit behind the front two acting as playmaker (sic..surely) . Well done Sven Fuckwit, Frank Lampard has scored 16 goals for Chelsea this season in a flat midfield four, he scored against Iceland when England reverted to a normal 4-4-2, and then against France he scored again. So, play him out of position, ask him to curb his natural instinct to go forward and score, and play Paul Scholes who hasn't scored for 3 years in an England shirt as the forward midfield player. Lets hope I'm eating humble pie later tonight when Sven Fuckwit proves me wrong!

Later, Grocerjack

Little Englanders...or wankers as I like to call them

So, once again the good (sic) name of this country is undermined by a bunch of mindless thick jingoistic morons...and I don't mean our new crop of Tory and UKIP Euro MP's! Nope, Im referring to the fucking idiots parading as England fans and lobbing tables and chairs into bars and at people in Albufeira. I've never been to Portugal, and frankly Albufeira doesn't sound like my sort of place, but many thousands of law abiding Brits (which includes us English) go each year.Undoubtedly some will get pissed and have a ruck before getting nicked, they'd do that here in Nottingham or Southampton City Centres. But this lot seem intent on showing how macho, hard and funny they are and mistakenly believe their defending the honour of England in some sort of team handed bullshit pseudo-war. The Portuguese, as with the rest of Europe seem unfailingly warm and friendly to us but do our "fans" care? Do they bollocks! I am a football fan, I suffer for my love of the game when watching my beloved Chelsea, or my country England, but I don't feel the need to show my superiority by abusing other fans, or other countries, I just suffer and then get on with life.

So, those that are nicked - bang them up until the Tournament is over, freeze any assets they may have, then try them, jail them for say 3 years in Portugal, with remuneration for the costs to Portugal from all of their assets with the shortfall being made up by our Government. So, after 3 years they are deported, no passports re-issued for 20 years and they are also potless. Too hard? Tough shit!

Later, Grocerjack

Another meeting with Mysterious M

Today I had a “scoping” meeting with my boss, the Mysterious M. It was called this so as to not give too much away to the nosy bastards who have no better life than to look at my diary to see what I’m doing that day. I would imagine this amounts to none, but we appear to working in an environment of ever increasing paranoia where information is most definitely power. Anyway, within the next couple of weeks I will be picking up my new team, a small one of 5 people. A title has yet to be determined but “Performance and Change Management” seems likely. Now, 4 months ago I was running a team of 22 people and constantly answering calls and replying to emails or attending meetings. There is little that depresses me more than a day of back to back meetings. Anyway doing that was a bit like being a teacher at an unruly comprehensive, with people constantly asking things, unable to make their own decisions or doing what the hell they wanted and hiding it from you. Despite this they were a good bunch, but this feels like I’m ready to dip back into the world of managing people and to be honest I find myself enjoying my work more and more now the shock of not being battered daily has worn off. I like to think I am a good coach of people and perhaps after my tirade against Sven Fuckwit I can put my own theories to the test once again on how to motivate and mobilise people. After all my initial distrust and cynicism it appears the Mysterious M really does like me and rates my abilities, which is a compliment in anyone’s eyes.

However, watch this space for some more cracking Management Gobbledygook Bollocks Talk very soon.

Euro 2004 Comment

Paul Scholes will be fit after all for tomorrows “crunch” game against the Swiss – bollocks. I stick to my guns here – as a coach you pick the form players, not stay with some misplaced loyalty on players who have not done the business for months. Sven Fuckwit – loyalty can be an admirable trait, but misplaced loyalty will be your downfall. Great game last night between Germany and Holland, with 2 teams showing real dislike for each other matched with mutual respect to give an absorbing, exciting and tense game. Whatever you think about the mechanical nature of the Germans you cannot fail to admire their resilience and mental attitude. The Dutch however seem to mentally all over the shop, but got through the game on their skill and determination not to let the Germans put one ovcer on them. In the end the Dutch Masters went from the beautiful game of passing along the floor, to “hoofing” the ball 70 yards to the big centre forward. Still, whatever lights your candle and gets the job done.



Later, Grocerjack

This weeks work of Art - Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Geoerges Seurat. Its not modern or controversial, but I love this and am looking to buy a recreation in oil of this. A much underrated artist is Mr Seurat. I believe he used "dots" to create the image rather than traditional painterly styles. 

Late thoughts.....

Paul Scholes is injured and may not be fit for Thursdays game against the Swiss - fucking excellent news!

UKIP win 17% of the vote for Europe and promise "to undermine the Euro Parliamanet at every opportunity" - can't wait for the merger with the BNP - fucking racist Little Englanders trying to put an acceptable face on it. If leave Europe we'll be virtually bankrupted - do they really think the US will give a shit then, do they really think the US will up our trade quotas and drop restrictions to help us out...yeah right.

Sven Fuckwit says " the 3 substitutes came and and all done very well" - sounds like young Mr Grace - yep Sven Heskey did a fantastic job of kicking a fench player to give a way a free kick to the best dead ball player in the world to let him score etc etc ..ad infinitum

Caroline Dickinsons killer gets 30 years - its too fucking good for him, but even in a French jail, I'll give him less than a year before he tops himself or someone does it for him

I have an infected toe, and by Christ its painful, todays golf at Croxy's was bloody sore! My sore throat appears to sinus related, apparently the contents seep onto my throat through the night and cause it to dry up - yeah lovely. So to add to my Hayfever tablets, Asthma inhaler (reactive), asthma inhaler (preventative) I will now have a nasal spray and anti-biotics for 2 weeks. I may need a handbag to carry this lot around in - anyone know where I can get a cheap Burbery?

Later, Grocerjack

Vive Le France!

Oh dear, my adopted future homeland (France) gave my current one a bit of a hiding last night. I had tried to veer away from footie in the last few weeks as the season had taken its toll on me and I was a bit shagged out. But last night was too much to bear. For the neutrals and the non-footie fans it must have been compelling theatre as wave after wave of French attack pummelled the England defence. I sat and watched with some mates and we all thought the second half performance, whilst brave and stoic, was also cheating the fans. Why do we feel the best policy is defending at all costs? We are as good as these teams but we get a goal up (well done SuperFrank) and against these so called better teams (Portugal 2000, Argentina 2002, Brazil 2002 and France 2004) we just seem to capitulate. You cannot in any game , be it Rugby, Cricket or whatever show these teams too much respect because they’ll see the fear and then hammer you. Perhaps its our daft sense of fair play but my feeling is its more to do with a lack of belief.

The problem then comes down to one man – Fuckwit II, the return of the Fuckwit clan. Yep, Fuckwit Ranierii has gone, but we still have some around and Sven is a fully paid up member of the Fuckwit Clan. Unlike the rest of the nation, including the sycophantic press and broadcast media I think Sven is a twat. Sorry, don’t mean to offend…a fucking twat! How he had the sheer bollocks to come out smiling after that game and say we played well and didn’t deserve to lose is beyond me. We allowed ourselves to be hammered for 45 minutes, we came out and started like a team that knew it couldn’t hold on to the slender lead. What I want is a coach who can inspire and motivate the players, and make them believe they’re all fucking Pele or Maradona (the drug free one!), and Sven is too cool, too dispassionate and too calm for me. I want passion, I want tears, I want tea cups thrown at half time, I want the players to get the “hair dryer” treatment, or get a cuddle or whatever it takes to life THEM mentally.

I want Mike Bassett England manager (as portrayed by the ever excellent Ricky Tomlinson). Failing that bring back the wideboy cockney barra boy geezer that is El Tel Venables. There is no way he would have allowed the team to cave in against the French, who were undoubtedly good, but not unbeatable. They won because they never stopped believing, even after getting a late equaliser My belief is that at that level, whatever the sport, the technical difference in capability and skill is minimal, but what counts…what makes winners is in the mind. Its mental attitude and we lacked a lot of that last night. A quote that I really like that I use to try and help me perform better is this

“Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can’t, you’re probably right” (Henry Ford..a long time ago)

Later, Grocerjack

I'm off to the pub....

You know how quite things were the other week when GMD, Teenager and Baby were on Sunny Tropical Island for a week. Well last weekend was a return to normalish chaos, but tonight has exploded into anarchy. GMD and The Kings Wife were chatting in our kitchen this afternoon, hence the obligatory wine bottle was opened. Only I think it ws more than a bottle. I was called four times on the way home with varying instructions on what to pick up (unfortunately, young, gorgeous,latin bird wasn't amongst them). I duly did this but instantly new that things were a bit socially relaxed by the tone of GMD's voice. No problem, she works hard and she deserves a little bit of quality time to relax. When I got home, to my horror I had forgotten the Virgin Vie party. For the uninitiated this is a piss up where they try and buy make up - a sort of Avon for the 21st Century. But...not only is my house full of laughing, slightly drunk women...but their kids are all here as well...upstairs in the kids romms. There are around 12 of them NOT including Teenager and Baby. In Room 1 (Baby's) we have the under 10's (incl) playing Busted as loud as posible, with Friends on the TV in the background - all girls. In Room 2 we have the over 11's, giggling and sqealing, playing Emin-fucking-em, 50-fucking-Cent and associated other bollocks to the dulcet background of mobiles receiving texts and photos....from each other - again all girls! Room 3 (the lounge) is now full of cackling,laughing, drinking women. I am the only testosterone carrier in the near vicinity.

Overall my house is now a candidate from Room 101.

I need some Guinness and quick.......have a good weekend....

Later, Grocerjack

Call that choice?

Popped into the voting booth tonight. What a choice, vote for New Nanny labour - nope, they need a rocket up their arse. Vote for "Howards Way - We don't quite know what to think of Europe" Tories - I'd rather eat a freshly laid dog turd. UKIP - racism dressed as patriotism - if this lot ever get in I'm off to live in the United Sates of Europe, with lower interest rates, better life style, more sun etc etc. Nah, I like a single malt and so does Charlie Kennedy apparently, plus he seems a decent bloke, so the Lib Dems got my local and Europe vote. Not much of a choice, but I still hold with the view that a crap choice is better than none, and my guess is most others, especially those who have lived under dictatorships would agree.

Assignement news - I have managed to write 1456 words so far! Only about 500 to go to be in or around the required 2000 word mark. Sometimes I amaze myself.

Fancy being outraged? Read this Telegraph article and tell me this isn't the sign of a society gone fucking mad. If I was this bloke I would sue the police. As far as I can see he was merely carrying out the same effect as a speed camera. How the fuck can the police and magistrates call this an offence? The offence is that this sort of utterly fucked up collage of bollocks is completely allowed in the so called great country of ours. If this doesn't convince you of the fact that speeding arrests are a revenue raising exercise then nothing will. As Littlejohn might say (fat wanker though he is)..you couldn't make it up.

Later, Grocerjack

The End of the course...

Hmmm, having just read Crox's page I would like to assure everyone that my life is not all holidays and courses! I'm afraid this one and the one in July are necessary evils if I want to stay employed for a while longer, or be more employable should the ever present company issue Sword of Damocles hit the target.

The kids have finally gone home now. Maybe they all need some sleep after the stresses of the last 3 days (sic). One actually paid me a compliment of sorts today along the lines of "I was so glad we had someone here who deals with this stuff, it has made it much clearer". Thats either nice , or patronising an oldie! Anyway, I expect they're all out clubbing, drinking alcopops, snorting Coke or dropping E's as an end of course steam letting session.

Strangely I got to like some of them in a paternal sort of way.

Baby had a summer concert last night at her school, which lost me 2 valuable hours of study. But she is a great little singer and really puts emotion into it. It made the heart strings go just watching her and seeing her smile back at me. The concert finished off with her music teachers Irish Folk band coming and doing a few numbers. Great fun, but it would be significantly enhanced if Guinness had been avaiable. In fact a bar would have upped the proportion of parents willing to join in the songs. Thanks to my Irish parentage I did know most of the songs. When we got outside baby had a nosebleed which lasted for nearly an hour. She got very upset and shaky as this is the worst she's had.She has inherited my hayfever and I put it down to that tempered with her excitement at doing the concert. As you may be able to tell, I would wrap her in cotton wool if I could! Teenager is still stroppy, with an alarming increase in "blonde moments". She is very close to me limiting her internet MSN times, and limiting her mobile usage. She does think she is an adult, but then when she was ill the other day (now a monthly occurence), one can see the confusion between the child and near adult and then I do really feel for her. Its awkward for boys, but for girls it must seem like torture at times.

This week is now dedicated to my next assignment due on Saturday

Assess the following conditional claim: “If the Standard Social Science Model is mistaken, then we are less altruistic than would otherwise be the case”

God help me (although if Darwin is to be believed, he can't, because he doesn't exist!)


Later, Grocerjack

This weeks work of Art (an occasional addition to the blog) - I and The Village by Marc Chagall (1887-1985), painted in 1911,oil on canvas. What hits me is the colour and "wholeness" of the picture. Like he has captured the whole village in one non-conformist cubist rectangle. This is held at The Museum of Modern Art in New York - I will see this one day. Chagall is renowned for his distinctive use of color and form, which is derived partly from Russian expressionism and was allegedly influenced decisively by French cubism.
 

A sea of gormless faces

Oh dear, I hear the sounds of bubbles being burst as the "kids" in my Kindergarten class suddenly realise what a dull old piece of shit Project Management is. I think they saw a glamourous role, one of motivating people, picking teams, driving the project, being the hub of all the activities, making decisions, controlling budgets, analysing risk...which is what it should be, but within The Company it is no more than a glorified admin/secretary role. It is a role of no power, no influence, with no glamour or credit. Project Managers are universally hated because they do not actually manage projects. They annoy and harass people, they use the words "I'll escalate..." near enough every hour, they drop the CEO's name in at every opportunity to try and scare people into prioritising their project...yeah like he gives a shit that X can connect to Y to provide a test platform!. They cannot or will not report bad things to the Project Board.The team I had hated them to a man/woman. I have personally saved too many Project Managers necks whilst risking my own.

So why am I doing the course? Job preservation.....if I get the (almost universally accepted) accreditation then if and when the axe falls its a ready made job in any other organisation...yep its dull, but it'll keep the wolves from the door until I decide what the full future career is for me. I may not fit The Company's view of what a Project manager should be (because I am argumentative, not pushed around, speak my mind, think as an individual and am not a yes man) but I'll bullshit,lie and grovel to get a job in another company in order to keep earning enough money to keep Jack's lifestyle roughly where it is now. And I've worked with enough shit Project Managers to know exactly how to be a fucking good one!

And yes, that probably does make me a hyprocritical, underhand , conniving, cheating and lying bastard....but I'll just put that down to male genetic programming (thanks Charlie Darwin)

Just one more day with the blank tableau minds and gormless faces that are the kids on the course and then back to my normal life.

Later , Grocerjack

How to feel old……

Step 1:

Book yourself onto a Project Management Foundations course

Step 2:

Walk into the room where the course is being held

Step 3:

Find familiar face and sit next to them. Chat for 5 minutes until he realises he is in the wrong room. Swear internally.

Step 4:

Gaze around room; allow heart to sink as everyone else is so obviously young. Note the number of people with weird piercing’s in eyebrows, upper ear lobes, bottom lip. Note vacant expressions on their faces

Step 5:

Look to instructor, again let heart sink as you realise it’s a Salman Rushdie clone. But he’s at least 50

Step 6:

Die a little more as the introductions are done, including age!

Step 7:

Be mortified as you hear this (abridged to cut the usual crap and names changed to protect the thick)

Screamer : Hi , I’m Screamer and I’m 26 (upper ear lobe pierced…twice)
Y viva Espana: Hi, I’m Y Viva Espana, and I am 24 (very deep Spanish accent, but gorgeous young bird- forgiven)
Ignoramous: Hi. I’m Ignoramous, and I am 30. I was sent here for development (like it’s a fucking stretch in choky)
Timid: Hi, I’m Timid (speak up you wuss) and I’m 26 (unless you get more assertive you’ll probably die of fright next time a Daddy Longlegs flies in the room)
Punk : Hi, I’m Punk and I’m Twenty fucking Two (Ok, I added the fucking bit there, but it’s pissing me off - eyebrow and lip pierced, possibly brain stem as well)


And so on, 6 more times, with ages ranging from 23 to 27

Jack (thinks) : Please let me fucking die now, no personalities, no brains, all think their great, all are going to be so sadly let down as they grow older….cynical…moi?

Jack (says) : Hi, I’m Jack and I’m 42………
Jack (thinks) : Why are they smiling? Couldn’t at least one of them shake their head in disbelief?

Salman : Ok, I’m Salman and I’m 43 ……..
Jack (thinks): fuck me I can’t look that bad….why is he looking at me? Oh god he thinks we’re “age buddies”…how shit is your luck?

I have another 2 days of this torture. No word of a lie, it’s like being at Kindergarten. If anyone ever says age makes no difference……..THEY ARE EITHER DELUDED, STUPID, BARKING or SAD, possibly all four, but they are also VERY, VERY WRONG

Later, Grocerjack

Testing a photoblogging option - this is may favourite ever piece of art - hangs on my wall (well a print does) with pride of place. If this works then more photos may be forthcoming 

Its ...Oh so quiet....

Yep, its been a good week, batteries are fully recharged. The house has been deadly quiet, I've kept it tidy and my studies are almost back on schedule (with a few skipped corners.....natch). Things is when it's like this my whole demeanour just settles down and so I have not posted. Although this may be partly due to the copious amounts of Guinness drunk each night!! My golf has also improved from Spain, with a course ripping 92 (well ripping for me - a net 4 under par after the handicap)at The Meon Valley Country Club (or The Marriott as it really is) and a 95 on my home course which is even par. Encouraging, and maybe to do with the fact I have been so relaxed this week. Of course normal chaos returns tomorrow and this weekend we have been invited to barbecues on both days.

A quick thought though........wouldn't it be great if we all stopped buying petrol and diesel for a few days and refused to travel to work on the basis that we couldn't afford it. I'm totally in favour of civil disobedience over this kind of thing. The French have done it for years because they still have balls whilst we lie on our backs and let the government and the big corporations shaft us. And don't even get me on the Nannying over obesity. Yep, we'll eat organic, healthy food when it's as cheap to buy and easy to get hold of as crap fast food. At the moment that choice is limited, we have less hours in the day to ourselves, no local stores any more, so daily shopping for fresh stuff doesn't appear viable. Again, go to France, where food is taken seriously - most supermarkets have 1 aisle for frozen food, all the rest is fresh. They shop each day because they have shops with fresh and cheap food, and they don't work 14 hour days because it is seen as something honourable, it is part of their culture, they take eating seriously, and they make it a family occasion. When was the last time most of us sat down and ate as a family?

Later, Grocerjack

More Corporate Gobbledygook bollocks talk of the highest quality…....

Can anyone decipher what the fuck this pile of wank garbage company shite talk is about? I have edited it slightly to remove any obvious references to The Company or people, in a kind of GrocerJack arse and job preservation manner, but this is the body of a genuine email sent to all of our department.


"Dear all,

Update from Anonymous Suit (Corporate Planning and Performance Director)
Thank you for all your support with the Future Way Ahead Project Alignment exercise. Thanks to the comprehensive response from all parts of the business, we have managed to collect and review over 900 templates. The next stage is to work with the Initiative Owners and Initiative Leads to make decisions on whether the mapped projects should be integrated, refined & integrated, or discontinued. Given the inputs so far we believe that we can now accelerate and simplify our information capture process. We will only need Template 2 to be completed in the following circumstances:

• For all projects currently unmapped to any of the 23 Initiatives, template 2 will be issued to you (PSTSO will send to Project Sponsor) w/c 2nd June for completion by 16th June.
• If, following review with the initiative owner / lead, further information is required (Template 2 will be issued on a project by project basis as necessary)

This will significantly reduce the burden on you and your teams in providing information to this process. Updated copy of our outline process and timetable:

Template 2
Following a change to the process, we now no longer require a Template 2 for all our projects submitted by our PM's.

Sponsor re-alignment
All projects have been Sponsored by Exec level Sponsors only, we now have the opportunity to align to the true project Sponsor which may be the domain head or senior manager in a team. The current Sponsors for a large number of our projects have reviewed the list and have made suggestions on who is true project Sponsor. This work will communicated next week as part of Template 2 process and updates to follow next week.

Timesheet code - IMPORTANT
Please encourage all your teams to book any time we are spending on this alignment project to TSheet code PTW_002816 Future Way Ahead Mobilisation This will ensure we can track the cost and disruption to normal activity as we focus on sorting out the future.

Regards,

Company Corporate Communications"

God fucking help us if we are employing people to produce this sort of gobbledygook corporate bollocks talk.

Just a quick post in a sea of excessive golfing, footie watching and Guinness drinking. Plus a bit more study of the philosophy of Darwinism, which apparently at its most extreme seems to imply that men are genetically disposed to shag loads of attractive women in order to increase the chances of their genes being carried into the future, and women are genetically disposed to try and ensnare those men who will provide a better future for the children and them (by being rich?). To be honest it’s an eye opener, and the definite implication is that we can’t help acting upon our genetic traits. And I have always said that men have primeval urges to letch and look at other women, now maybe I have the back up of the scientific community :-)

Later, Grocerjack

Peace has broken out!

A quick post as this is the first day of my week of liberation. I was ona techie course yesterday, a one day overview of our marvellous new High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings technology, upon which the glorious and all-conquering future of The Compnay is based.

You will all eventually succumb to this technology. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

It was dull.

When I got in last night,GMD was completely hyper. Still packing, ironing and fussing over her week long sojourn to Tropical Sunny Island. From the moment I got in until she went to bed, it was rat-a-tat-tat chatter. Baby is nine, she is 40. You would have been hard pushed to determine who the little girl, overcome with excitement, was!

So, all alone, peace and quiet for the week. No work, no worries (well a little backlog of studying post-Darwinian Theory's effect on human nature, and how to use "conditionals" in a debate...yeah very exciting).

Later , Grocerjack

The Survey…..

The Scene:

Jack is wandering back to his desk on the first floor of recently expensively refurbished office included refurbished and improved water leaks, dysfunctional toilets with added viewing for passers by, no microwaves as we can now walk 400 meters to another recently expensively refurbished building with canteen (they call it a restaurant…but don’t they have waiters?) and brown grit machines (apparently coffee is what the brown grit is). Jacks phone rings…..shit…its still got the ring tone set to the clipped mp3 recording of the first scene in Pulp Fiction……

“Everybody be cool this is a robbery!” (the marvellous Tim Roth aka Pumpkin/Ringo)

“Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!” (Amanda Plummer –Honey Bunny/Yolanda)

Cue the Dick Dale guitar theme….Jack flies to the desk and stops the tune, which most appear to like, realising the damage is done….

Heads turn, some people smile, some frown…Jack looks sheepish as this is the outside of office ring tone, guaranteed to make people laugh or look in the pub, but definitely not for the middle of the office or ….god help us…in a meeting. Work time is supposed to be the lilting Ennio Morricone theme to A Fistful of Dollars, although The Mexicans in the office may get upset at that.

Jack (says): Hello Grocer Jack speaking

Caller: Hi, this is Cold Calling Bird ringing on behalf of the Big Telephone Company, would it be possible to gain access to a few minutes of your time

Jack (thinks): Shit, they fucking got me, if it’s a bad day then it’s a sales pitch, if it’s really bad then it’s a survey
Jack (says): Hi (she sounds nice OK!)

CallBird: The Big Telephone Company treats its customers very seriously and would like your feedback. This is a survey that is approved by the British Cold Calling you Sad Bastards Survey Overlords, of which I can give you an address, phone number and web site afterwards. Would you be prepared to assist in this survey? Big Telephone will give £10 to Childline for every successful interview conducted.

Jack (thinks): Great Charity fucking blackmail….I can see the headlines “Kid killed for the want of £10 because some miserable fucker wouldn’t do a survey”
Jack (says : Yeah, no problem, anything to help (yep, she sounds dead horny now!)

CallBird: It’ll only take a few minutes, and the call will be recorded for quality assurance purposes. Please feel free to answer “Don’t know” at any point

Jack (thinks): You might be horny sounding but this is a fucking script girl…break away, think for yourself…
Jack (says) : Fire away.

CallBird: With regard to Big Telephone Super Flagship product, how would you rate this on a scale of 1 to 10

Jack (thinks): It’s a fucking phone, it’s been around for a 100 years
Jack (says): Oh , that’d be a 9, after all its changed my life for the better immeasurably, I mean where would we be without it….certainly not doing this survey…ha ha
Jack (thinks): Good one son, that ought to break the tone of Callbirds scripted happy, yet horny voice

CallBird: errrr…….just the rating please……moving on

Jack (thinks): fucking bitch

Then followed the most stultifying, boring, deadly dull, life sapping, mind numbing, cock flopping, lend me a blunt rusty knife with which to hack at my wrists 30 minutes of my life. When did “a few minutes” become thirty? Will God refund them to me with these words?

“Sorry Jack, have them 30 minutes back I didn’t mean to create these cold calling survey androids, they were a fuck up made up from the leftovers of my other complete fuck ups. You know the ones - double glazing salesman, tabloid journalists, traffic wardens, project managers, doctor’s receptionists, lorry drivers, car parking attendants, Davina McCall, Dale Winton, Morrisey, Westlife, Eastenders script writers and religious clerics. I mean even Gods have a few off days Jack”

A nice thought that God might say that but somehow I doubt it!

Anyway, the questions were simple enough, with answers from 1 (bad, death, pain, they deserve to die) to 10 (fucking superb, ace, great, the world is lovely, I want Big Telephones babies), but Miss Horny Cold Calling Bird began to sound more like Miss Stepford Wife Cold Calling Bird with every question. If I asked her to repeat the question you could hear her struggle with the concept of being questioned, of having to deviate from the script. By the end of the interview I had the feeling she was actually a 3-Star MacDonald’s waitress, working in her lunch hour. The temptation to ask for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, Large Fries and a Diet Coke (hypocrite..moi?) was indeed very great. But then I applied the Principle of Charity and decided the poor brainless, mindless, soulless, semi-sentient and by now sexless Miss MacDonalds/Cold Calling hybrid was probably just doing what she was told, and what she thought was needed in order to try and scrape enough of a meagre pittance with which to try and conduct an experience of a life. I smiled with my voice for the last 2 minutes, she thanked me for my time and we parted, not as enemies, nor as friends, but as two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year. Running over the same old ground etc etc etc.


Later, Grocerjack

Nothing Official Yet…..

Hmmm, I have been invited to a meeting today to discuss the tenders placed by High Powered Corporation and Desperate Dan Corporation. The tenders are for the management of a work flow package for 3 years. Not too thrilling I admit, but the fact I have been asked to attend seems a tacit implication that I will be managing the contract and the eventual winner. That should mean some good corporate football and golf days….errr I mean interesting and stimulating challenges in the drive to leverage effective cost savings and delivery mechanisms………

Aaargh! Oh my God, am I becoming one of “them”?

No fucking chance 

The Mysterious M has also confirmed to me that I will be managing one of his teams in the next couple of weeks. I think the team is the one that manages the capacity and performance of all of The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings. I think it also produces an annual High Tech Pipe, Tube and String Strategy Plan. This is interesting because I am from a mainly operational background in which forward thinking and proactive planning are not generally the norm. They might be encouraged, but in truth most operational environments are so hectic you get fuck all chance to look ahead and plan strategically. Maybe it’s a deliberate ploy to get me into a role in which I have time to think, which wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe this was part of The Sandman’s master plan all along. Maybe he is really my friend……

But let’s get this straight, this is in addition to my current role, not instead.

For the same money.

Whether or not I’m allowed to be a manager or whether the role is akin to being The Milk Monitor is another thing entirely. Previous experience indicates The Company likes their managers to say yes to Corporate Cock, not to think independently, to tow the Company line and then grants them all the authority of a Brownie Sixer! It’s almost like being part of the Borg………..perhaps our Mission Statement should be

YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED.
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

It may mean less posts though because undoubtedly my current freedom of time will now be more restricted, so evening posts may be come the norm. Fear not though, as this will just another source of inspirations….more grist to Grocerjack’s Mill.

Final note: If anyone thinks guns are a valid form of self defence, then the stupidity of this South African ex-Springbok rugby player featured in a BBC report shows the folly of gun ownership. And why not just ring the police and claim off the insurance? Did he really think it was justified to shoot a car thief? I can't think of a bigger price to pay.

Later, Grocerjack

New Jack City!

No major post today because as you can see I've been fucking about with the look. Changing it around is a bit fiddly, so thanks for fuck all Blogger but sincere thanks to the Ministry of Crap Design for putting your Marque of Crapness on the user interface. Nice too know they're still around. After a bit of perseverance I liked this "darker" look the best and eventually got the links, site meter, guestbook link (please sign it someone!) and comments working. No more "trackback" option but then as far as I can make it out it was about as much good as one legged man in an arse kicking contest.


I actually worked hard today on the weekly forecast report, like anyone fucking reads it or takes notice of it. Strange things have happened in my absence last week and a meeting with my boss, The Mysterious M, has indicated that my current life of Riley is about to revert to a higher level of manicness and shite, for the same money no doubt. When it's official I shall of course keep the rest of you trapped wage-slaves informed. Must remember to write about the customer survey I did for 30 minutes (yes 30 fucking minutes!) for the Big Telephone Company. It defied belief.

Anyway comments are welcome on the new look or anything else your minds can muster.

Shattered....

Thursday Night:

Course day one complete, good interesting course, lovely hotel, great food and plenty of it. Downside....nothing! The Company put a free bar up for us - it was a very funny and enjoyable evening - I think the final bar bill was circa £1400, which is most defintely a "quality effort". Jack;s "faux pas" though was to assume one of the guys who had rung home and got some earache from his partner was ringing a girl. Unfortunately after stringing me along for a while whilst I told him my years of experience in how to treat women, especially when you're away on a residential course with a free bar, he then decided,much to everyones amusement to let me know that "he wasn't on the same bus as me". Glad I could amuse everyone with that little faux pas, especially as apparently he had made it fairly plain in comments at the table that he was gay. Sometimes I amaze myself in my ability to completely miss peoples signposts!

Friday Day: Plenty of hangovers, I survived by ensuring I drunk only top notch red wine, and plenty of Beamish (the not quite as good as Guinness drink). We then were expected to break bits of wood with our bare hands as a sign we had absorbed the course contents about our belief in ourselves. 6 people were in front of me, guess who fucked his first attempt. Yep, me, what a dick! In my defence all I can say was that an inappropriate thought invaded my mind at the moment before I struck it. You see, this happens to men, straight or gay. We think about sex every 20 seconds or so, and what can we do about it.....fuck all! We have hundreds of thousands of years of evolution programmed into us. It's a primeval urge, and we're powerless to stop it. When a man goes blank,or looks at another woman walking down the street it's usually because he's thinking about screwing someone! No-one laughed out, but I knew inside they were.I got it second time though that was down to being so fucking angry that I had been first to fuck up. I'm glad my incapability gave everyone a laugh.

Friday Night: Pub, Guinness, argument with Mr Chelsea about Chelsea. No-one agreed with me that Fuckwit had to go. The Governor came over for a chat, put his glass of scotch on the counter, and it went to fall over. I leapt forward to prevent it doing so. Gales of laughter as everyone burst out. The glass was a trick glass with a curved bottom. I'm glad I amused everyone again with my stupidity. There was a drop dead gorgeous woman at the bar, so perhaps my mind had wandered again (no perhaps about it really!)

Saturday Day: The Cup Final, more Guinness, shit game, BigSykes and LittleSis stayed over. Thats' 3 nights of drinking and I feel awful. I am old. I am a third division drinker. I cannot do it anymore. Teenager was obnoxious,stroppy and ignored all of our time directives (be back by 7:30, ring us when you get to Sulkies, let us know what time your coming back tomorrow - all ignored), although Mini-Me and his mate Minimum were so incredibly polite I might ask his parents if they want to swap him for a daughter.

Sunday: Golf with Medallion Man. He played well, I played shit for the front nine, but good on the back nine. Encouraging. By the time I got home I was unable to move because every joint seemed to lock up.

This is a big week. My company car goes back this week because I don't need it anymore and the Meriva comes on Friday. A new toy to play with. GMD (see the cast!) is off to Sunny Tropical Island on Friday with Teenager and Baby, plus The Majors wife and kids, along with The Kings Wife and kids. Alone, for a whole week, and off from work whilst they're away. Bliss.

Later, Grocerjack

Out for a while......

M caught up with me today...there may be news about my role....watch this space.

My thanks to Strings for guitar lesson tonight. Very useful, and a real jump was made with getting a chord right! He also heard Teenagers request for Mini-Me and mate to come over on Saturday. Teenager asked if it was alright "if they went upstairs to watch a DVD". In my day it was "to play records", and the main reason for that was to mask the noises of teenage boys trying to see how far they could go with teenage girls. I know this BECAUSE I DID IT! And no-one will convince me that things have changed for the better. BigSykes and SmallSykes will be over for the footie so I have backup for the tormenting and piss taking of this motley crew.

My answer was simple

"Yes, it is OK, but the door remains OPEN!"

I heard the mumbled answer about wanting to keep Baby out, and something about me being over protective and "nothing happening". Proof if ever it was needed that my suspicions were right. The door will be open, and regular patrols from Guinness drinking footie fans will be "de rigeur".

I'm on a course for 2 days so no posts for a while.

Later , Grocerjack

The Sandman…he calleth…pt 2……

Jack is idly sitting in the office, discovering the delights of hunting out new screensavers with which to crash his machine. After downloading 3 free ones which then demand payment Jack is getting frustrated. Five Live is discussing Speed Cameras – Jack wants to call in and say something but before he gets the chance, the dulcet tones of Metallica thumping out Enter Sandman, provide the ominous forewarning of The Sandman requiring my services…

Jack (thinks): Shit, what could this be about? What have I done wrong that he could have discovered…..
Jack (says): Hi Jack speaking…….Oh sorry, Hi Sandman…I didn’t realise it was you as I was busy writing this latest report…..

Sandman: No problem Jack, nice to know you’re hard at it…..its about your monthly report…

Jack (thinks): Shit, that took about 5 minutes to do and it probably shows..
Jack (says): oh right…well sorry it was a bit late but it took a good day and a half to collate the figures and make sense of them for you…….

Sandman: I thought that would be the case. Well it’s very good…but….

Jack (thinks): fuck me...he thinks its good, so why is there always a bastard “but”
Jack (says): Oh right, thanks….what else can I add for you?
Jack (post-thinks): Well done gobshite, why not just ask him for more of this shite…..

Sandman: Well, it’s more about what you can remove……

Jack (thinks): Huh?
Jack (says) : Huh……..I mean sorry Sandman….you want something removed?

Sandman: Yeah, the figures are bit too “positive” and I’m not sure they reflect how serious we are about driving up performance. If people see how positive they are they might slack off. Plus, I don’t like the colours on the stats table you included…we need them to be more……..traffic lighty….

Jack (thinks): Too positive? Traffic lighty? Am I tripping?
Jack (says): errr….so you want me to remove the “good” headlines and stats, and make the stats table more “traffic lighty”….

Sandman: yeah…you know more Red, Amber and Green, like erm…traffic lights and just downplay the success levels, and make the target performance figures more aggressive…cheers mate…any queries give us a call….I’m always available

Jack (thinks): how the fuck did it come to this…quick ask him about the other role…
Jack (says): No problem Sandman , any news on the additional role?

Sandman: …silence

Jack (thinks): mobiles don’t have the “click and burr” of someone cutting the call
Jack (looks at phone): confirmed…Sandman has finished the call
Jack (says): bollocks
Jack (thinks): call him back and pin him down on this……

Jack then dials Sandman by virtue of speed dial key. 25 seconds later (yep that is speedy….not) the phone answers

Jack (says): Oh Hi Sandman…just wanted to catch up with you on the additional role….

Sandman: Your call has been diverted…
Sandman: Hi, this is Sandman’s Secretary. Unfortunately …blah blah blah

And that in today’s hi-tech, wireless connected, high speed, information rich, always “on” world is what we mean by “always available” !

Finally – the nannies are at it again – so not happy with stopping us from smoking, drinking (specifically us 40-something, once a week, binge drinkers), eating (all food other than organic lettuce appears bad), having the odd joint (addles our brains), sunbathing (causes cancer in Med-like Sunny Britain), driving (cos you speed) and flying (DVT), I noticed this on the Beebs news site. So no more Perrier, Diet Vanilla Coke, Tango, Fanta, Tizer or anything. Cut out the soft drinks or you’ll all die. Stick to fruit juice until someone discovers that it causes leprosy!


Later, Grocerjack

Lorry drivers…get out of my life….

A moan, straight from the top of the GoGB!

Every morning I drive the best part of my journey along the A34 from Winchester, where I pick it up. And every fucking day some lowlife, shitneck, wanker with the intellect of an amoeba HGV driver, or brain dead white van driver (although they are slightly less evil) decides to try and overtake one of his compatriots. The A34 is a dual carriageway, but with the normal Motorway speed limits. So Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver moves out into the outside lane, because some arsehole driver on a jolly outing decides to let them out. However, the Ministry of Crap Design has got there first and decided that all lorries will have a maximum speed and acceleration within 0.01 mile per hour of each other. So, Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver is doing 56.01mph, whilst the other idiot is doing 55.09 mph. This means that for 10 minutes the two lorries are vying for position because Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver is determined to win the duel, whilst the other prick is determined not to yield his minute advantage, as well as being too fucking stupid to ease off and let the other one pass.

Result = stalemate, plus two mile queue of frustrated drivers driving nose to tail at 55.08 mph and 6 inches apart!. And they call themselves professional drivers…don’t make me laugh!

Come my revolution and these knobheads will be restricted to travelling between midnight and 6 in the morning on Motorways and A-roads only, not through villages with localised fleets of electric powered white vans taking stuff to the point of delivery (a sort of nationalised white van courier) , the Supermarkets will have to plan their logistics better, the railways will be rebuilt to re-instate all the branch lines cut by Beeching, and increased to incorporate loads of light rail and monorail systems, the canal system massively upgraded to allow non-perishable freight to be carried to delivery sites. Oh yeah, and I’d make more use of air freight by increasing the number of out of town regional airports with strict noise limits. I agree this will be at huge cost to the taxpayer including (and especially) big business. But at least it’ll get the fucking lorries off the road and I’ll be able to drive to work without lumbering 44 ton environment killers and frustration creators blocking my route. And if that sounds selfish, fucking right it is!

I actually saw the “beheading video clip” the other day.Yes it is out there, still easily available on the net. This may seem like voyeurism, but I don’t believe in censorship for adults, and I’ll judge what I can and can’t see. It was shocking, truly brutally shocking, and callous beyond belief. Am I damaged by it? No – but it has made me more angry than I can believe. It has underpinned my view that these bastards should be summarily executed. No trial, no fairness, no publicity, just painful death and ignominious disposal (perhaps feeding the bodies to pigs, just as a final ironic twist). If anyone is in any doubt about the brutality, wickedness, pure evil of these people then this one video clip would soon change their mind. If people are de-sensitised to the violence spreading throughout the world then this is an instant cure. Suddenly I feel very aware that I’m not as hardened and dispassionate to such things as I was before. And that must be good because it is one more person who DOES give a shit.

Finally, Blogger has done some jazzy updates, which I might try and implement soon. It means I can also post from my mobile via email. This means my sanity can remain unthreatened when I'm on a course or holiday (because writing this stuff really DOES help). I'm still toying with getting it hosted so that I can start putting some pics up.....so any fellow bloggers with tips on the pros and cons...please drop me a line.

Later, Grocerjack

Where did that weekend go?

Bloody hell I’m fucked………

That weekend zipped by in the blink of an eye. I don’t feel I have stopped for a minute. Friday night was pub night as usual. The atmosphere was good, except that Medallion Man was somewhat quiet. Subtle enquiries revealed that he had split from his girlfriend, unwillingly by all accounts. His girlfriend Miss Sarajevo is from Eastern Europe and …well lets just say that like most east Europeans she is rather direct. Fiery would certainly be an apt description. It’s strange and quite disconcerting to see someone like Medallion Man, normally so extrovert and loud, in such a sullen mood. I hope they either get back together or he resumes his normal obnoxious and gobby rantings soon. I don’t think I can cope with Morose Medallion Man!

Saturday was the inaugural barbecue, by that I mean the first family barbecue of the year, this year hosted by MiddleSis and SmallSykes at their house. I love the way the sun brings everyone’s mood up and this was very much the case, as everyone ate and drank too much. We were graced with presence of The Grand Master and Raptor to give the event a royal presence. The boys beat Leeds 1-0 and so this was a good day. We walked back late in the evening, slightly drunk, slightly burnt and very content.

Sunday we went to the seaside, as we are only 20 minutes from the coast. I love the seaside, its great for watching people. All walks of life are on show on sunny days. My favourites were the old man with very long shorts, and incredibly long socks. A complete fashion disaster! And why wear shorts with halfway up the thighs socks? Doesn’t that negate the whole purpose? He was closely followed by the Muslim family having a picnic. The men, of course, in shirts and jeans, the women if full Muslim top to toe regalia. Just a slit in the burkha for them to see through. They must have been boiling, and a bit ripe in that outfit!.

Just watching the ships leave the harbour made me feel a pang for not visiting my beloved France this year. I could have boarded any of them happily. Anyway in the afternoon we were visited by Bob6 and his family. Now, whatever I have said about Bob6 in previous posts he is still my mate and so we sat down and enjoyed a copious amount of Sangria during the afternoon. Weekends should always be sunny – it should be obligatory!

I have just seen the England squad for Euro 2004. It is good to see 4 Chelsea players in there, especially Joe Cole, who is rapidly becoming my favourite player. However, what the fuck Sven is doing by including that carthorse Emile Heskey is beyond me. He has 45 caps for England as a striker – he has scored 5 goals in that time. Is it just me or can others see the paradox here? 45 games – 5 goals. He must have something on Sven that’s all I can think of. Jermaine Defoe from Spurs is banging in goals right, left and centre, but he can’t get in and we have to watch as the Donkey that is Heskey plods around the field in his normal clueless and witless manner. We are in trouble if that’s the best we can pick.


Later, Grocerjack

An arbitrary post

I sat down and finished my 3rd OU assignment, one week late, and covering an incredibly boring subject, taught in an incredibly boring and disjointed manner by the author of the book we have to read. The writer is a veggie, and boy doesn’t it show. In fact she alone has probably done more to persuade me to go on Atkins for a couple of weeks with her pompous and patronising views. The question for which I had to write 2000 words (finished on 1986 eventually) was….

Which theory offers better safeguards for animal welfare – contractarianism, or the indirect duties view?

I went for contractarianism, well its obvious innit?

What I really wanted to say was

“How dull is this subject? How much duller could you make it?”

.......and then gouge out my eyes with a rusty spoon before marinating them in Masala Sauce and feeding them the local feral cat, whilst walking in acid filled boots after pulling my toenails out! That’s how boring it was!

Today, I met with M, my mysterious boss. Well, it was for my Bi-annual Review, a sort of sham process whereby you write down what you think of your performance over the last 6 months, and then your manager tears you to pieces “as part of your development”. They then set unrealistic and vague objectives with which to knock you down next time, this then goes up the management chain and then to HR, where it is completely ignored. I used to do these for my team, but quite honestly I used the time to have a good old chat with them – sort of extended one-to-one. That way I learnt more about their fears and aspirations, and was able to form a good judgement on how they had performed. The critique was always constructive as destroying someone is usually counter productive.

Anyway to my sheer horror and surprise it went very well. In fact he was quite inspirational in his objectives and goal settings. He was very kind about my abilities and the work I have done in my new role (I wasn’t aware that I had done any!). But the biggest shock was when we discussed The Sandman, and I swear that word for word he said everything I have said.

About how ruthlessly ambitious The Sandman is.
About how The Sandman has no other life than work, even when on holiday
About how socially inept The Sandman is outside of work because he has nothing else to discuss!
About the general control freakery of The Sandman.
About the trail of destroyed people left in the wake of The Sandman as he climbs the greasy corporate pole.

At one point M actually said – “Why the fuck doesn’t The Sandman just do the fucking work himself!” It was great!

Now, the cynic in me says this could be a cunning ruse, in which the Grocer is encouraged to show himself and consequently incriminate himself and they can then show him the door! I will tread carefully, but this is a very encouraging sign.

I thought I’d add to my Desert Island List by listing 10 women I would also like to be stranded with. I have left out my wife and daughters because this is fantasy stuff, but it might give people another angle from which to judge me.

Island Women

Denise Van Outen – Essex girl, slightly saucy, who just gets me every time
Jennifer Aniston – need I say more?
Julia Sawalhia – Saffy in Ab-Fab
Natasha Kaplinsky - BBC morning presenter
Kate Winslet – a real woman with real shape
Penny Smith - GMTV news reader
Lisa Maffia – gorgeous R&B star
Kate Garraway - GMTV presenter and simply beautiful, my current number 1
Linda Barker – just seems genuinely nice
Catherine Zeta Jones – a bit of an egotist, but drop dead gorgeous


Later, Grocerjack

What did we expect?

So, US troops have been busy with the camera. It seems they have a strangely warped sense of what they think is funny as well. Having said that, this stuff has always gone during times of war, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, it’s just that we have so much more access to information and much easier methods of recording and distributing this stuff. We, the media receiving public are still so naïve on this type of thing.

The jury appears to be out on the British troops, although the Nanny Government seems to be doing their utmost to try and concoct some sort of smokescreen to ensure The Mirror is held up as being printing false information. Interestingly The Sun also seems to be pointing the finger at The Mirror (no surprise there then). However, according to the latest issue of Private Eye, this is massive turn around by The Sun, who but a few short weeks ago were warning of the imminent scandal regarding illicit photos. The Mirror got there first, and now The Sun seems intent on doing nothing but discrediting The Mirror and laying on the plaudits for our “brave boys”. I do not doubt their bravery, but if some have been stupid as well then this should also be exposed. If I can reproduce the article I will as it makes amusing reading and shows the tabs up for what they really are. The real war seems to be for circulation figures.

You may have guessed but I hate the tabloid press, especially The Liar (oops I mean The Sun). It is only surpassed in it’s hypocrisy by The Daily Fascist (sorry I mean The Daily Mail). I did admire Piers Morgan’s attempt to “lift the bar” with regards to The Mirror, but then the bloke just has a knack for doing something that completely undermines this, and the hypocrisy just keeps showing itself.

Anyway, the brutal filmed decapitation of Nick Berg was undoubtedly barbaric. No matter about what some idiot soldiers did to Iraqi prisoners, the execution of this non-military guy was completely uncalled for. I wonder how those US soldiers who meted out the abuse feel now?

However, did we really expect any other reaction from these Muslim fanatics? These are people who treat life like it’s an irritating wasp, there to be terminated on a whim. They don’t care for religion or God (who is also the Devil, two sides to the same person, as with us, whom “he” made in his likeness!) or for the circumstances of the people they execute. They do not have the capability to reason in a rational manner. They are uncivilised barbarian wankers who deserve whatever painful death is inflicted upon them. Not for them the right of justice. No courts or civilised fair hearings - just a painful, torturous death via Special Services. I seem to recall the old USSR method was to abduct, torture and kill, but with no publicity at all.

That’d be the best way, exact cold revenge, but without the oxygen of publicity. No film or photos. No mention in the news. Silence.

Later, Grocerjack

Leathery Skins……..

When we were in Spain last year, we entered a bar full of people celebrating that great British traditional night – St. Patrick’s night. For reasons that became obvious we christened this place “The Queen Vic”. Within this bar were around 40 people, wearing shamrock hats, smoking and drinking heavily, mostly with tanned, leathery skin, some with grey hair, most in their 40’s to 50’s, with a smattering of “youngsters” in their late 20’s and 30’s. The “youngsters” were all immaculately dressed, the geezers in smart trousers and Gucci shirts, the women in smart trouser suits, all displaying healthy amounts of gold. As soon as we set foot inside the place it suddenly resembled “The Slaughtered Lamb” – the pub immortalised in “An American Werewolf in London”. If they had been playing darts then the darts would have stopped in mid flight. The music should have stopped, but maybe to the inhabitants it did. We had been noticed as “not being from round these parts”. Everything carried on, we ordered our pints, but it was noticeable that several people were eyeballing us all the time. The rest were too pissed or high or stupid. Mostly too thick and stupid would be my guess.

We were desperately feeling uncomfortable, the barman/landlord had not been overly keen to serve us and made us wait behind several “regulars”. Did they think were coppers? Jesus, I’m 5’6, The Major is 5’7” – we ain’t tall enough to be coppers! The King is, but he was wearing an anorak with a hood (it was raining!), which is a pretty crap undercover outfit for a copper. As we drank our pints, we looked around and listened. Not an Irish accent to be heard! All you could hear was the sound of cockney/mockney mixed in with the odd Mancunian/Scouse or public school accent. As I looked around it dawned on me that every woman looked like a gangsters moll (bar one, who just looked downright…blokey), and every bloke looked like a city crook, a bank robber, a gang master, or a getaway driver. The amount that looked like Ronnie Knight was disturbing. Not one of them looked like they had made the money honestly.They all had that….aura. It was easy to imagine them all driving around in Jags or BMW’s with British plates. Two days later, when hunting for some Diesel, we drove through he ex-pat area (Albert Square but posher and hotter) and sure enough, the Jags, Mercs and BMW’s were there, all with British plates. You could almost imagine the inside of their villas, bedecked in habitat furniture, tiger skin rugs, bad taste statues, obligatory Rottweilers and shrines to Kenneth Noye above their mock marble fireplaces.

I never actually heard this, but you can imagine it being said…..

“Good ole Kenny, what a stitch up the Old Bill did on him – a right fit up. So he killed that kid, well he was probably a gobby little bastard anyway – and as for the copper he stabbed 11 times in self defence – well he was in Kenny’s garden weren’t he! How could Kenny have known. Christ no man deserves a stretch for that…..”

A very disturbing place, and one we were happy to vacate after completion of pints. This year we though we would take our 4th member (TonicMan) to see it, but it had changed into a respectable little bistro, presumably after Inspector Knacker had found the owner and got him deported. Anyway we descended on a “techno-bar”, decorated in mirrors, stainless steel and glass, with a few large plastic plants dotted around, as it sounded and looked a little livelier. Lo and behold, this was now the new Queen Vic! Everyone knew each other, the dress was more casual, the skin still tanned and leathery, but the “landlord” was a real bruiser, a little like the villain in “Snatch”. His wife, a big brassy blonde. Her sister, the also blonde singer, trotting out banal tunes to a backing tape. The singer’s sexy siren daughter (maybe 18 if lucky) hanging around the bar, with a silent shotgun waiting from the landlord for anyone with the temerity to talk to her without his permission. The landlady and singers “good ole mum”, sitting their merrily drinking and smoking. Whenever anyone walked in, they were greeted warmly by the landlord/landlady, they kissed the singer at an appropriate pause. This was not extended to us, but we were not made to feel awkward this year, just…….irrelevant.

Irrelevant is good, awkward is bad.

I doubt any of them could speak one word of Spanish other than the normal “por favor” or “gracias” stock phrases. Integration to the community is not on the agenda, as it would appear that the community is now British. I bet most of them still fly back to use the NHS when required, and maybe even draw the dole money into a UK account, to bolster their already substantial bank accounts. After all it’s their entitlement innit!

It would be my idea of hell, living in a foreign country, but not actually knowing it, never meeting the local people or mixing with them, not partaking in their culture, history, politics, and traditions.

Still reading The Sun to catch up on the true stories about good ole blighty!

Later, Grocerjack