Men and Women.......

I don't normally do Monday posts as the weekend is never that interesting, however a good 1-0 away win for the Mighty Blues at Middlesbrough warmed things up after a top night in Old Pub on Friday (New Pub still hasn't worked out what the fuck it needs to get the real locals in) and a semi-decent game of golf yesterday capped off a nice relaxing weekend. Told you it was dull but I like dull...dull is good...dull means no nasty surprises.

Anyway, my thanks to Private Godfrey for this - its probably done the rounds but I haven't seen it before.

How to make a woman happy?

It's really not difficult... To make a woman happy; a man only needs to be :
1. a friend
2. a companion
3. a lover
4. a brother
5. a father
6. a master
7. a chef
8. an electrician
9. a carpenter
10. a plumber
11. a mechanic
12. a decorator
13. a stylist
14. a sexologist
15. a gynaecologist
16. a psychologist
17. a pest exterminator
18. a psychiatrist
19. a healer
20. a good listener
21. an organiser
22. a good father
23. very clean
24. sympathetic
25. athletic
26. warm
27. attentive
28. gallant
29. intelligent
30. funny
31. creative
32. tender
33. strong
34. understanding
35. tolerant
36. prudent
37. ambitious
38. capable
39. courageous
40. determined
41. true
42. dependable
43. passionate

All this WITHOUT forgetting to:
44. give her compliments regularly
45. love shopping
46. be honest
47. be very rich
48. not stress her out
49. not look at other girls

And at the same time you MUST also:
50. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself
51. give her lots of time, especially time for herself
52. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

It is VERY important to:
53. Never to forget: * birthdays* anniversaries* arrangements she makes

How to make man happy? :

1. Shag him
2. Leave him in peace

I did think of some others that make a man happy such as "don't ask for a cuddle after a shag" or don't ask him for some of his chips. I'm sure there are probably more....

Later, GrocerJack

Wise Words from the worlds greatest songwriter….

The monkey sat on a pile of stones
And he stared at the broken bone in his hand
And the strains of a Viennese quartet rang out across the land
The monkey looked up at the stars
And he thought to himself
Memory is a stranger, history is for fools
And he cleaned his hands in the pool of holy writing
Turned his back on the garden and set out for the nearest town

Hold on! Hold on soldier!
When you add it all up the tears and the marrowbone
There's an ounce of gold and an ounce of pride in each ledger
And the Germans killed the Jews
And the Jews killed the Arabs
And the Arabs killed the hostages
And that is the news
And is it any wonder that the monkey's confused?

He said Mama Mama the President's a fool
Why do I have to keep reading these technical manuals
And the joint chiefs of staff and the brokers on Wall Street said
Don't make us laugh you're a smart kid
Time is linear, memory's a stranger, History's for fools
Man is a tool in the hands of the great God Almighty
And they gave him command of a nuclear submarine
And sent him back in search of the Garden of Eden

Can't you see?
It all makes perfect sense
Expressed in Dollars and Cents
Pounds, Shillings and Pence
Can't you see?
It all makes perfect sense

Little black soul departs in perfect focus
Prime time fodder for the News at Nine
Darling is the Child warm in bed tonight

Can't you see?
It all makes perfect sense
Expressed in Dollars and Cents
Pounds, shillings and pence
Can't you see?
It all makes perfect sense

(Roger Waters, Perfect Sense parts 1 and 2, Amused to Death, 1992)

And seemingly even more applicable today. If you get the chance to listen to this track (Parts 1 and 2), then it becomes even more poignant.

More later, GrocerJack (and they will be happier…. I promise)

Those who live by the sword......

I really wanted to write something cheerful and perhaps even funny because it seems to me my postings have been a bit whingy lately. However, bearing in mind the current situation with the British hostage in Iraq anything like that seems a bit trite. Perhaps its just me, because generally my mood is pretty "up" at the moment. Work is going well, despite the swimlanes, roadmaps, strategy documents, RAG status reports and KPI's so I can't find anything remotely good enough for a savaging on the blog from that usually reliable source. After this post perhaps I'll try and ignore what's going on in the world because I can't help but feel duty bound to write and comment on what I see and hear, and that doesn't necessarily make for good reading. The last thing I really want is to make this blog as miserable and depressing as Eastenders.

Tonight I watched the videos of the American hostages being ......well murdered is the only term....no, make that brutally and savagely murdered by ...well ....(and I apologize for the language but it sums up the depth of feeling).....a bunch of Terrorist Cunts. These TC's (to save writing the C word which I use frequently with mates on the golf course but NEVER with anyone else) are psychopathic motherfuckers and the only thing that I can think of is that we don't even attempt to take them alive but we kill them using the alleged methods of Black Jack Pershing. It's extreme but I can't see any way forward in dealing with people allegedly holding no fear of death. And I apply this only to the TC's killing people arbitrarily in the name of some warped translation of the writings of the holy book of one of the worlds great faiths.

This is the story -

HOW TO STOP ISLAMIC TERRORISTS...... it worked once in our History...
Once in U.S. history an episode of Islamic terrorism was very quickly stopped. It happened in the Philippines about 1911, when Gen. John J. Pershing was in command of the garrison. There had been numerous Islamic terrorist attacks, so "Black Jack" told his boys to catch the perps and teach them a lesson.
Forced to dig their own graves, the terrorists were all tied to posts, execution style. The U.S. soldiers then brought in pigs and slaughtered them, rubbing their bullets in the blood and fat. Thus, the terrorists were terrorized; they saw that they would be contaminated with hogs' blood. This would mean that they could not enter Heaven, even if they died as terrorist martyrs.
All but one was shot, their bodies dumped into the grave, and the hog guts dumped atop the bodies. The lone survivor was allowed to escape back to the terrorist camp and tell his brethren what happened to the others. This brought a stop to terrorism in the Philippines for the next 50 years.
Pointing a gun into the face of Islamic terrorists won't make them flinch.
They welcome the chance to die for Allah. Like Gen. Pershing, we must show them that they won't get to Muslim heaven (which they believe has an endless supply of virgins) but instead will die with the hated pigs of the devil.

It seems this story may be apocryphal as any hard evidence is disputed but if we are fighting fanatics with no fear of death and unless that death is tainted in some way then we cannot beat them. If we made death a fearsome prospect (as it is for us, especially if untimely to brutal) by adopting a methodology such as this, then doesn't this act as a possible deterrent?

Before anyone screams "Islamaphobe" or "racist" lets get one thing straight. I will stand by the right of any person to practice any faith they like, providing it causes no harm to myself or others. All I am advocating is using an extreme method of death which puts terror into the hearts of terrorists. Faith should be a personal thing only to be shared amongst those who also follow it, or those who have no objection to its practice. I do not believe in indoctrinating people in any faith, by any method. If they want to follow it then let them learn about the options themselves, perhaps by the teaching in school of their existence but with no secular bias, like the French do. I do believe that most Muslims are peaceful, caring people who want to worship their God and live good and meaningful lives in conjunction with others of different faiths (even Judaism). The same goes for most Christians, Buddhists and Hindus. However, terrorism against innocent people, with no militaristic connections has no part of any religion and that is also the truth about Islam. What we see is the warped translation of the Koran (Qu'ran?) by fanatical pyschopaths with agenda's and motives known only to themselves. And lets also get this straight...fundamental Christians are as bad...and George W is a fundamental Christian. What we are seeing is a repeat of the Crusades being fought out by minority wings of each religion (Georgie Boy from the Christian side, Zarqawi/Bin Laden on the other,) where the majority of each lives side by side, sometimes easily, sometimes uneasily but they do not willingly kill the innocents of the other side. How did these idiots gain such prominence. How did the respective religions allow such zealots to gain such followings?

Surely the great and the good within the "Arab Nation" can root out their own troublemakers and prevent the seemingly inevitable path to self destruction they're being dragged down. Surely it is in their economic and cultural interests to co-exist peacefully with the West? Surely the American people can see the fool in charge for what he is, and the damage being done to the name of America in all areas of the world? Surely, they'll vote to put someone in charge who REALLY KNOWS what the horror of war is FIRST HAND and knows it is a last resort, not a first resort. Surely, they'll vote for someone who seems keen to take a proud nation and return it to a caring and generous nation, genuinely protecting the innocent and not just the business community. A man who wants to release their country from the grip of Middle Eastern oil and help them look elsewhere for their energy needs? Surely common sense will prevail somewhere.....

And so I put forward the view that when these terrorists are found they are shot with bullets impregnated with pigs fat or pigs blood. If they are tried and sentenced to death, then that death should be similarly tainted. They should know that their belief of what follows death will actually be the realization of their worst fears and not their greatest aspirations. Then perhaps they will learn that democracy, no matter how flawed is still the fairest political system the world knows today, and the best and most effective way of changing what you don't like.

Later, Grocerjack

Knobbers in cars....

So I'm driving to work this morning when a member of The Fucking Bastards (see my cast list for details) is driving his tractor along the road I use when leaving the village. This Knobber is travelling slow, even for a Dingle Tractor Driver, my guess is about 3mph or just barely above stall speed in my car. Just behind him about 6 inches or so is another knobber from The Fucking Bastards, a 20-ish male driver. He is driving a lime green , barely legal, battered old Peugot 106 and seems happy to be following Numbnuts Dingle at snails pace. I then decide to execute a perfectly legitimate manouvre generally known as OVERTAKING. Patently this is something yet to be experienced by Young Knobber, that is being the overtakee. Undoubtedly when he's showing off to Shazza or Trace he is often the overtaker, when he can find a straight enough road to get the half mile or so his motor would need to pass a motor mower. Anyway I am just gliding effortlessly past him and have my car about 3 feet in front on the opposite side of the two lane road (Christ I'm sounding like a copper now...at least I haven't said "the vehicle was proceeding..."). when Young Knobber decides to also overtake Numbnuts Dingle. Yep, straight into the side of my car. Wanker. I pulled over and the details have been swapped and he knew he'd done wrong. Didn't make the start of my day any better though did it? Anyway, the damge is from the front wheel arch all along the car to the back wheel arch, nicely dented, scratched and gouged. Mirror shatter and in pieces, indicator bulb on front panel now lying on the roadside somewhere. Around £2k if my estimate is right. Twat.

The moral? Chill out, avoid Numbnut Dingle Tractor drivers (in league with lorry drivers if you ask me), and always, always assume that Young Knobbers are clueless, witless, shitnecks who you wouldn't trust to run a bath , let alone drive a car. I will from now on....

Later, GrumpyGrocerJack

Well done to "Our Boys!".....





Well done to the Europena Ryder Cup team - I don't want this to dwarf the article below about the late, great Clougie but as a golfer....nay....as a a sports fan this was a superb victory, on a par with winning a world cup in footie. If Tone and gang can't get the "Euro" spirit into the people then this certainly came close. In my "anti-Europe" local, where I bang a very lonely pro-Europe drum, everyone was gripped and cheering the guys on. Apparently it wasn't big news in the US, but that's because of the fact that

a.)they lost,
b.)it wasn't a competition between only US citizens and...
c.)it involved a little place they barely know exists (that'd be Europe then!)

Sweetest moment was Monty, who after years of putting up with the hate mob and their purile (but slightly funny) Mrs Doubtfire gags, and after a traumatic year personally was the one to hit the winning putt and in doing so shove a large one right up America's pipe, Later, GrocerJack 

So farewell then Brian Clough 1935-2004.......





It is a sad day for football and one cannot underestimate what this man achieved in football. To win a league championship with a small provincial team like Derby and then do the same twice with Nottingham Forest is remarkable enough.

To win four league cups is more than most other managers ever achieve, but to win two back to back European Cups is unrivalled and to do that with Nottingham Forest is absolutely miraculous. Don't forget this is the equivalent to todays Champions (sic) League and is the biggest prize in club football in the world!

It was sad to him end on a relegation note but unquestionably his drinking had taken its toll and the sharp mind had been blunted considerably (if not the sharp tongue!) Those last images of him in 1993 before his enforced retirement with his bloated face and blotched, spotty, wretched complexion, a giveaway sign of the soon to be irretrievably poisoned liver, were sad indeed. But his liver transplant last year and his total subsequent abstinence from the sauce had transformed him. In recent interviews he had looked hale and hearty, almost fresh faced, with the sharp tongue still there but complemented by a warmer, more engaging person...a man who knew he was lucky to be alive and was happy in his dotage to play the part of retired ex-legendary manager and current Dad and Grandad. His stories are legendary, both from his friends but also from himself.

My favourite Cloughie quote? That would be this....

"I'm not the best manager there is, but I'm definitely in the Top One".

It is a huge tribute to the man that he was known even to those who never watched football or even like the game. He was a personality, an eccentric and a deeply principled man (a real socialist through and through), and a man who never let the riches and fame change him. His favourite meal was always quoted as Fish and Chips in the paper. Football, and I would argue the country as a whole, is a little less colourful for the loss of one of it's greatest men. RIP, Cloughie. Later, GrocerJack  

So Farewell then………

Just a brief post about the demise of my alter ego ChelseaBoy. I thought it might be a good idea to spin off my sports stuff, especially around footie and golf to another blog but to be quite honest I don’t have the time to do it justice and every time I posted to it I felt guilty about not having time to post to this one.

So from now on this blog will include my sport related rants as well and ChelseaBoy is now sat firmly with other failed experiments, making friends with 8-Track tapes, the Squarial, Betamax videos, the Sinclair C5, Concordski, British Rail’s Tilting Trains and The Earth Centre in Doncaster (were they really serious about thinking people would want to see this?)


If you get the chance, have a look at Casino Avenue today from the link on the left. The cartoon Inspector Sands has posted had me laughing out loud in the office this morning. It sums up just what I think of the twats who spent the day protesting in London about the forthcoming ban on fox hunting, and the knobbers who decided to invade the floor of the Commons. I know the country dwellers think people don’t understand them but let’s face it in this high tech age we must be able to come up with more humane ways of controlling the fox population. Even shooting seems humane, although after the incident this week with the youngster in Devon it might be more dangerous for people than foxes. I’m a countryside dweller now and most of the people I know are either completely ambivalent about the alleged sport, or want it banned. Hardly anyone thinks it’s acceptable these days. Another point is that we live in a representational democracy and the MP’s who voted are the elected representatives of their constituencies and that’s the way it is. These knobbers are now talking about breaking the new law and hunting anyway because they’re “not hurting anyone else” to quote one of the protestors interviewed on the fabulous 5Live (a former Olympic Medallist whose name escapes me).

How interesting will that be to see how the police and courts deal with them? If they get off lightly or are ignored then think of the interesting other laws that people might ignore! Perhaps we can ignore speeding offences “where no-one else is hurt”, or allow public Cannabis consumption and dealing, after all they’re not hurting anyone else either, especially after having had a joint. After hours drinking is another good one, after all the only people being damaged or hurt are the drinkers.

I’m sure you lot can think of more laws that we could all start breaking on the basis of not hurting anyone else….cant you?


More later, GrocerJack

Pain - Please go away (part 2) …….

This will only make sense if you have read the posting below, so go ahead…I’ll wait here until you’re done.

She came back and explained that all X-Rays are routinely checked again at the end of a shift and upon examining mine the Senior Junior Young Doctor had asked what ward I’d been sent to! Doctor Chris Evans then (presumably) said I’d been sent home and then the Senior Junior Young Doctor had then explained or shouted to him that when someone’s leg is shown to be detached from the hip by 6 inches and a shard of bone was visible, having been broken off at impact from the socket of the pelvis, that usually meant something serious. Effectively all that was attaching my right leg to my body was muscle, tendon and skin! I did see the X-Rays later and even a medical moron like me could see just how detached things were. So it was a dislocation and a fracture. As the ambulance guys wheeled me into the hospital I lay there thinking what I would do if I got hold of Dr Chris Evans again…but even then I just kept thinking about the nurse and my missed opportunity…..damn…….there I go again!

Then Doctor Death came and saw me. He was Spanish, although I never held that against anyone before this guy tainted my view for a while. His hair was jet black and he was young but with a morose look that suggested he wasn’t over-enamoured with his job…or in fact his lot in life. Anyway he proceeded to tell me that my operation was scheduled for 13:00 and it was a good job I hadn’t eaten………

“But I have…I had breakfast and a cup of tea”

His dark features darkened even more and then he flipped…..”Why you do this? You have operation booked! People have been moved for you to have this. Why you be ignorant?”

I was in pain so my tether was already close to the end.

“You patronising wanker….you fucking c**t…” said I…”You bastards send me home with a smashed in fucking leg, don’t call me until the next day and then have the bollocks to have a go because I fucking ate before an operation I didn’t even fucking know I was going to have!”

Or words to that effect. There might have been one or two more swear words used, but I lost it as big time as possible considering the pain I was in. He was unfazed and then went into a tirade about how selfish and stupid bikers were, before telling me how many decapitated bodies he dealt with from motorbike accidents, or the amount of serious brain damage he saw. According to him I was lucky to be alive. I found out later that his bedside manner was similar to everyone, thus the nickname Doctor Death. It takes all sorts I suppose.

Anyway the operation was delayed by another 7 hours and so I was left on a trolley, alone in terrible pain until they came to fix me. Strangely enough the Doctor doing the operation was a double of Gary Lineker! I started to think that perhaps this was a Twilight Zone Hospital where celebrities got to fulfil their Doctors and Nurses fantasies on real people. In my mind the pretty nurse had started to resemble Linda Lusardi….but maybe that happens all the time.

The operation was successful but I had a six week stay in hospital (with truck loads of other stories that I will tell later) in traction which included the Christmas period as well followed by six months on crutches. The Consultant (who thankfully didn’t look like a celeb) said I must have had a very high pain threshold and that in normal cases where a dislocation occurs for more than 12 hours a condition called
Avascular Necrosis can occur. Basically the blood supply to the bone is cut off or depleted during dislocation and if this occurs for long enough the bone dies. I asked the obvious question of whether it comes alive again once the blood is restored and back came the answer…which was No! The bone would then crumble and the only resolution was a hip replacement. I was 32 for fucks sake! Apparently hip replacements only last 10 years and you can only have two of them, not because of the cost, but because after two there isn’t enough bone left to secure it to! Anyway, that condition didn’t happen thankfully, but I was also told that I would increase my chances of arthritis by about 85% and that risk had increased from the moment of impact and not from the negligence of the hospital. The shard of bone from the accident had been left in my leg because it meant cutting muscle to remove it and that may have caused more damage than leaving it there.

And so, the pain I now have could be something totally different. But it could be arthritis although I imagined that to be a dull constant pain combined with difficulty moving and perhaps the odd “grinding” sensation. It may just be the shard of bone having moved into a not so friendly location – the equivalent of the old “shrapnel in the leg” excuse. All I know is that it hurts and the Ibuprofen seems to be having less effect every day.

I’ll put up with it for another 2 or 3 weeks, doing the bloke thing of ignoring it and hoping it just goes away. But then, if it hasn’t I’ll have to bite the bullet and see the Doctor. Thus my call of
Pain – please go away.


More later, GrocerJack

Pain - Please go away (part 1) …….

I have a pain in my upper right leg, near the hip but also just down from that. It hurts to

Stand Up
Walk
Run
Lean
Lay on my right side.
Sit with my legs crossed

Eleven years ago I had a motorbike accident in which a wayward driver decided to plant their car in front of my moving bike. I had a choice of

1.) Ditching the bike or
2.) Hitting the car and flying over the top.
3.) Building a time machine and going back in time to stop myself taking that route home or flattening the car tyres so they couldn’t make that journey

Not being Dr Who or even one of his lovely assistants ruled out Option 3. Had I been Olga Korbut I might have taken the second option and flown over the car, done a triple pike, with a somersault culminating in me landing on my feet, shouting a chorus of “Tada!” and flashing a cheeky smile at the cameras and judges.

But I wasn’t the delightful Ms Korbut, or a clone of her. So I took option 1 and ditched the bike. I was doing around 50 at the time so it fucking hurt when I hit the deck. I remember screaming like a girl (sorry girls but you do scream!) as the pain seared through me, and the shock and fear hammered home. I rolled into the opposite lane and opened my eyes in time to see the wheel of the oncoming lorry stop about 5 feet from my head.

In that one instant my previous typical young bloke sense of immortality disappeared forever. From that moment of impact I would start to think frequently of my lucky escape but also of the thought that one day I would shuffle off this mortal coil like everyone else. It changed my life.

I was rushed to hospital in an ambulance where I removed my own helmet (a precaution to ensure they don’t do any further damage to your skull because you’ll know if it can come off safely and painlessly) where I was ignored for 45 minutes before a nice pleasant and very attractive nurse asked me to remove my jeans. Blimey, just my luck to get a chance like this when I was obviously temporarily disabled. No…….No…obviously it was because of my injuries and they wanted to X-Ray me but at that age (32) and being single that thought would go through any blokes head. I was then manhandled into the X-Ray room after being given some painkillers. After about 3 hours, in excruciating pain, unable to stand or sit, with a broken wrist now heavily strapped I was sent home. The Chris Evans lookalike Young Doctor said that the X-Rays showed a bit of bruising and twisting and that in a week or so after plenty of rest I’d be reasonably mobile again. He must have done 100 hours that week, or maybe it actually was Chris Evans because he was very wrong. I stayed with a (now former) friend who happened to be a nurse. She looked after me, made me comfortable and fed me. I smoked through the night unable to sleep through pain, despite being as heavily dosed with painkillers as was legal without knocking me out. The next day she did me a Bacon sarnie and some tea. It was so nice that despite the pain I followed it with a Sausage sarnie. As I ate, she answered a phone call and the transcript of what I heard was

“……..yes, Jack the Grocer is here”

“Oh…….oh dear……..well that explains why he’s in so much pain then”………

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST…………….

Later, GrocerJack

Happy Birthday Skank……….

Yup - incredibly my brother hits the big 40 today. Happy Fucking Birthday! Don’t worry it’s a normal birthday greeting for both of us, nothing malicious in it at all. We did not hold the big annual Jack Barbie bash this year mainly because the original date in July was one of the worst weather days this year and everyone would have ended up soaking wet and miserable. Sorry, make that pissed, soaking wet and at least temporarily happy. So our plan was to move it to September 11th when the weather was maybe a bit more placid. Then after returning from Florida and realising the full horror of the finances we decided to cut our cloth accordingly until The Company’s share option comes through later this year and refreshes the parts of the bank account that my holiday managed to decimate. We knew it would be expensive but it appears to have had the equivalent damaging force of a financial Hurricane Charley, tearing its way through the timber framed structure of my savings account and tearing off the corrugated plastic roof that seemed so secure for my accumulated wedge just 3 months ago. Anyway, September was nice for the first couple of weeks, but as Saturday approached we knew the good weather was about to suffer a massive sulk and curl its toes up, shuffling away from its brief sojourn to the jolly old South Coast of Dear Old Blighty. And as it left it decided to leave a pile of gob on us, luckily just a few dribbles on Saturday before the full crap of yesterday. We decided to go with family only for the Barbie and to keep it as a celebration (in part) of Skanks 40th birthday. The weather did its best for us but there were some short sharp showers. However the copious amount of alcohol flowing freely stemmed any negative thoughts on the day, and everyone had a top time.

At one point we had a full rendition of the adults singing along to Roger Waters version of the Pink Floyd Magnificent Octopus that is “Comfortably Numb”. Twice. In fact a good proportion of the music was supplied by the good Mr. Waters and Messrs Page and Plant from my recently acquired live DVD’s, pumped out through the mega TV Dolby window shaking, bass thumping system I bought last year. It was as good as the other week when he came down, but improved by the presence of BigSykes and SmallSykes, along with MiddleSis and LittleSis, plus Grand Master and Raptor (who barely deserves this nickname now so I will seek an alternative). Mind you I was fucking ill yesterday with a hangover not seen round these parts since I celebrated my 40th! It’s not the capacity that’s the problem. I’m pretty sure that we, as older blokes, can drink as much and probably more than a 20-something, with the bonus of not getting slappy with it. No, it’s the recovery period that so badly lets us down. What used to take a few hours to recover from now takes anywhere between 12 and 36 hours before I can consider myself part of the human race again. Even a round of golf was not enough to blow the hangover away and that is very unusual. But it’ll happen again no doubt and the truth is that we never learn, do we?

Pub News…….

My “local” pub (i.e the one in the village) closed last year to be rebuilt. However such was the shithole it had become I rarely drank in there. The governor was an ignorant fat slob, his wife thought she was Bet Lynch, except she was ugly and lazy. The pub was built in 1960, after the original stone cottage pub was knocked down. The new pub was famed for being built in a day. Built in Lady Margaret Road in Southall (one of my former haunts), delivered at 06:00 in the morning on the back of lorry, serving drink by 18:00. It was a pre-fab and the fact it lasted until 2003 is nothing short of a miracle in itself. So, they knocked the old one down and built a new one made out of flint and brick, two storeys, new garden and completely in tune with the architecture and character of the village. It opened on Friday and the crowd in my current pub had the wisdom not to go that night, although I had a sneaky pint (which means two!) on my way home from work. It looks good and is a massive improvement on the old one, but one thing stood out – 2 bar staff? On the opening night? Sure enough down my pub that night we had an overflow of people who had waited up to an hour in some cases to get served. The new governor of the new pub did not even show his face! Even on Saturday when I took GMD and Baby there at lunchtime for a swiftie before the Barbie started we waited 10 minutes, and eventually with no sign of being served and with the new Landlady blanking us, one obviously inexperienced girl trying to take food orders and serve drinks we upped and went to our normal pub for a beer. We were served there as we walked through the door. So, here’s my advice to new pub landlord. Get it fucking sorted or you’ll be empty within a week. You should be very visible now, whilst you try to win back people like me and my mates. You should have too many staff on and then cut back according to your new trade levels. Get the basics right and you have a chance. Otherwise you’ll end up with passing trade and 20-somethings and teenagers spending a few quid before going clubbing. And before you know it the place will be a shithole like before. Hardcore spenders like me and my family and friends will stay where we are, safe in the knowledge that a pub where the governor knows my name, where my Guinness is on the go as I walk to the bar. That’s what running a pub is about, knowing the locals and the regulars. Treat them right and the others will notice this and also come back. Until then, The Governor at my local knows his trade is safe.

More later, GrocerJack

Changing Lanes………

Six weeks ago my work calendar was barren. It was sparse, vacant, empty, a vast desert of un-booked time punctured sporadically by free lunches, or reminders to get important things done (play golf, go to pub, buy flowers for GMD ‘s birthday/anniversary, buy kids presents for birthdays, Christmas Day etc). It was almost unspoilt virgin territory. Now it has changed and bit by bit, day by day it is returning to its former state. Days packed with meetings I don’t want to go to but am expected to attend, reminders to finish some bullshit, raggedy-arse task that I couldn’t actually give a flying fuck about. Since agreeing to manage this new team life is changing from one of virtually uninterrupted loafing into the monster of before, with endless meetings, dozens of phone calls, deadlines, documents, masses of wanky irrelevant emails, projects and initiatives. A return to the bollocks of “swimlanes”, “horizontals”, “process alignment” and my old nemesis “leveraging global synergies”.

I have to devise a plan to contain it all before it spirals out of control. In essence I enjoy the extra stuff to a degree, but having had 6 months of comparative leisure and freeloading time I don’t want to return to the stress-monster I was before. Life is all about balance and I want loafing and freeloading mixed in with stress free team management and peer interaction. So I need to formulate a cunning Blackadder like plan to ensure life doesn’t return to how it was before.

Other than “Quit” all I can think of is “Lie to everyone”. Any other ideas?


More later, GrocerJack

Still mad…….

Yup, still mad, upset and bemused over the Beslan tragedy. Even copious amounts of Guinness could not completely quell the pain of what happened. We talked about it in the pub with the usual cross section of people giving off views ranging from the eminently sensible to the completely barking (Medallion Man) view of nuking them all. This to me is what the pub is about, and is uniquely British. People out for the night, maybe just a fleeting visit, drinking and talking in an establishment where you never know who’ll walk through the door, chatting idly or engaged in friendly (or unfriendly) banter, or as on Friday with everyone talking about the days events and being given the chance to air their view.

Who says people don’t care?

The Governor was most strident in his views, blaming the Russian Government and armed forces, as well as Western Civilization (see below) in general for creating the conditions for terrorism and ultimately contributing to the events and deaths. Of course these are valid (if unsound) points but the 20 minute lecture on how to free hostages had everyone yawning a bit. The Governor is ex-Army, although like a lot of soldiers its always a bit unclear exactly what he did. He may have been a Commando, he may have been a cook but its funny how he seems to be an expert on everything and everyone. A typical British pub landlord then, almost related to the Great British Taxi driver. Whatever, despite this tragedy the atmosphere was what I had come to expect, glasses clinking, people talking and laughing, no music. A beautiful noise indeed, and one rarely heard in today’s modern theme pubs full of loud music (which I LOVED when 20 but hate now I’m old), quiz machines and fruit machines. A sign of age no doubt, but to my view a very welcome one.

And that’s it for the weekend. Just spent most of it decorating, repairing or constructing stuff, like any other henpecked husband and Dad. Over the next few weeks my posts might be a bit sporadic as my exam is due in October and I have a mighty rush to complete the course work, do the last assignment and revise. All this amongst the stress of my new “management” role within the company with a new team of engineers for me to manage makes life a bit more hectic for a while. The obvious upside to this is the extra ideas it will generate (hopefully) and some more corporate gobbledygook bollocks talk to publish.

I read this today – on the point of Western Civilization. When a Western visitor first asked Gandhi what he thought of Western Civilization, apparently Gandhi replied “I think it would be a very good idea!”

Still in comparison to some other civilisations we currently seem to right at the top of the moral tree.

More later, GrocerJack

Heartbreaking…..

I wish this post was more cheerful, but the images seen today of the events in Southern Russia have bought a tear to my eye. I can imagine nothing worse than my two children being involved in something as horrendous as this. The sight of parents lifting sheets to see if the body belongs to that of one of their children left the canteen at my office a very silent and sombre place. A tragic and very sad sight indeed.

Who is to blame? Only one answer there – the terrorists. I am no fan of Bush but his stance against terrorism is the strongest in our times and perhaps thats what we need no matter who is elected. And despite my doubts about Blair it has to be said that for once we have a leader willing to stand up to these terrorists no matter what the cause. President Putin seems to be of a similar ilk and does not appear to have given any order to go in, nor it seems did any of the senior military personnel there. The evidence seems to point to the Russian soldiers taking it upon themselves, stirred into action by the sight of the terrorists starting to shoot the hostages. I have seen some comments accusing the Russians of heavy handedness but what else could they do? Negotiate? With fanatics? Has that ever worked? Nope, they had to go in eventually and it’s a terrible shame that people and children have died, but it seems they were doomed anyway. Russia has its own Northern Ireland here, that’s for sure.

As I have stated before the only way to deal with them is to kill them – no trial, no justice, no publicity. Just quietly and efficiently take them out. And here’s another idea. Why not create a terrorism Task Force made up from the worlds elite military forces. Yes, combine soldiers from the SAS etc into one highly mobile, highly trained unit. Their purpose could be defined as preventing Terrorism (via killing the fuckers before they get the chance to do their terrible deeds) and being used in situations such as today. I do see the point that some make about breeding new classes of terrorist by keeping the killing going but surely the world has seen enough after this to unite and stamp it out, whether by use of Special Forces or internally from their own communities. Surely the combined might of powerful nations can overwhelm and crush these bastards.

Put it this way. If I knew someone was a terrorist, drinking in my pub I would kill them, in cold blood if necessary. Fuck the fear factor, if necessary I’d act (or be) scared but yes, I’d put a bullet in them. No doubt I’d be arrested, but lets face it, what jury would bang me up? I often wonder why no-one close to Hitler/Saddam/Pol Pot/Ho Chi Minh/Stalin/Milosevic et al never did it.

I need some Guinness, and some good news to cheer me up.


More later, GrocerJack

Vive Le France!

So some nutcase fruit loop, basket case Iraqi’s have kidnapped 2 French journalists. I don’t much like journalists but even I find kidnapping a bit much. My view is simple. France is an independent country which is free to make its own laws. I quite like the idea of separating the state from religion and keeping it independent. It means that any teachings can be unbiased and objective. Who do these Muslim fanatics think they are? If I go to Saudi and open a bottle of Jim Beam, will I be ignored…or banged up? If I steal a hat from a shop…will I be chastised or fined? Or will I lose my hand? If I decry Allah in Tehran, will I be ignored, laughed at…or stoned to death?

Followers of Islam listen. If you live in the West then abide by the laws of the country you live in, or were born in. I have to. If I moved to the US then I will abide by their laws, or if I move to Jordan I will abide by theirs. I have no choice. When the Arab countries make allowances for Western faiths and traditions then maybe we’ll listen back. In the meantime the only protests should come from French Muslims, and then only via political and lobby group pressure and dialogue.

France, please do no cave in like the Spanish did after the Madrid bombs. It’s you country, your law. One which has been around along time. It affects Christians and Jews as well, no skull caps or visible Crucifixes. The West must not allow these fucking idiots, whether Muslim, Christian, black, brown yellow or whatever to dictate our laws.

More later, GrocerJack

Jacks SureFire cure........

for those inevitable rotten post holiday blues.................book next years one.

Which I have done.

It felt great and certainly lifted my slightly gloomy demeanour. I do suffer badly with PHS (post holiday syndrome) to the point where I could probably spend two weeks sorting through Anne Widdecombes laundry and still be glum on returning to work. So next year it's a return to my adopted future homeland for 3 whole weeks. Vive Le France!

I also think having a blow out of the old kind with Skank at the weekend helped. He had a weekend off and GMD was away with the Guides or Brownies or something similarly jolly hockey stickey. Saturday night was the real big night...the night where we decided to be like we were before wives and kids enriched our lives. And what a night we had. Sure, it wasn't quite the indulgences of our 20's. We didn't spend £100 on videos and CD's, we didn't eat a whole litre of ice cream each, or buy a KFC Bargain Bucket. No, we bought door handles for me in B&Q, we ate Chicken Kebabs with Salad and Pitta. We kipped for 45 minutes in the afternoon (pre-match tension maybe). Then we went to the pub and drunk an incredibly unfeasible amount of Guinness each. Around 9 pints each over the 3 hours we were there. 20 years ago that would have been around 12 to 13 pints but hey, we've slowed up a bit. We then came back to my house, opened the Guinness and watch some of Roger Waters Live on DVD, and followed that with my Led Zeppelin Live DVD that he got me for Crimbo. We crashed out at around 3:00.

Sunday I had a hangover, but since discovering that a Guinness only drinking session gives me a mild groggy feeling as opposed to the serial vomiting, nausea , headache, shakes, blurred vision, itchy teeth along with serious runs that Lager gives me I wasn't too bad. It was most definitely worth it to act the kid drinker again. We don't do it enough and maybe in the next couple of months a reunion with Dave (see my Cast List) , my younger, harder and much taller youngest sibling now looks extremely viable and indeed likely.

And so the posts will now normalise as I absorb the news of the time and the arse-bollocks corporate shite of The Company and bring you my views. In the meantime....

Paula...you have unsuccessfully tried to wrest the title of Life President of the All Britain Chokers Society from Timbo. Ok, so you choked in the last Olympics with your fourth place. You choked in the Marathon this year. You choked again in the 10,000 metres. Once is valiant, twice is foolhardy. Timbo does it every year, without fail. Paula, my sweet anorexically thin love, you have had the sweet taste of success. Poor Timbo hasn't. In fact he even transported this great self-asphyxiation skill to Greece and got knocked out first round.

Class act.

He should win a gold for his choking. Paula, you crazy, zany twiglet, until you emulate this you cannot depose him from his place at the very pinnacle, the very summit of the Empire of Chokendem. Close, but no cigar as they say.

Later, GrocerJack

Letter from America.......

So what did I think of the good ol' US of A? Well if you're a yank hater then you might be disappointed because I really liked it. They couldn't do enough for us and I don't just mean the smiley people in the stores or at the parks. No, I mean the ordinary people I spoke to...and believe me I spoke to loads especially in the airports. It may be that we have a lot of Kudos there at the moment but whatever, they really seem to like us........and our money....of course.

Things I loved....

1.) WHTQ (96.5 FM) and 102.5 "The Bone"- 2 classic rock stations playing all the best hippy dinosaur rock in the world. Tell me when you last heard Teenage Wasteland by The Who, or Kashmir by Led Zeppelin, or Welcome to the Machine by Pink Floyd played IN FULL with no voiceover or self loving DJ ruining it? In fact when did you ever hear tracks like that? Even Virgin has shied away from this stuff. So,in the UK it's OK to have pompous stations dedicated to long dead Austrian, German, French and Italian composers from 18 fucking whatever, but nothing that plays (on FM anyway) classic stuff like this. Well done to the US, they have more respect for British rock than we do...in fact they can't get enough of it.

2.) Customer Service - yep it might seem false and overly sincere...but I LIKED IT! Return to the UK to be ignored or patronised by some dog shit snot nosed 17 year old on 4 quid an hour and the difference, no matter how faux is clear.

3.) Prices - we are undoubtedly and very clearly still Rip-Off Britain. Everything is cheaper there without question. Even British goods. Explain that to me please?

4.) Diners - everything that a Little Chef and Happy Poxy Eater cannot ever be. Cheap, clean, friendly, good portions, good simple food cooked well and plenty to choose from. Free refills for the kids on drinks and free coffee or tea refills for the adults (I had the kids drinks...well I was on holiday!)

5.) Air conditioning - yep, when the yanks do something they do it properly. The air conditioning is necessary in Florida, but did they half heartedly hang some noisy thing from a window to drip water on passers by? No, they made it integral. In the parks the difference between being outside and in was a big contrast. And when you buy a cold drink from a fridge....its absolutley bloody ice cold because they actually use the fridges cooling capabilities unlike most cold drinks vendors over here who merely use the fridge as a cupboard with minimal cooling.

6.) The cars - yes, they're gas guzzling environmental disasters. But Christ they're fun. Ours had an obscene 5 litre engine, with an 18 gallon tank that cost $32 to fill up up. It roared on kick-down. It was smooth and refined. It had full aircon. It was lovely but unless I win the lottery it won't ever be sitting on my drive.

7.) Kennedy Space Center - awe inspiring, awesome, marvellous and truly moving. Fantastic.

8.) Theme Parks - awe inspiring, clean...very clean, organised, fantastic queue management, its hard NOT to smile. When Baby fainted...a nurse was with us within 3 minutes. Superb.

Things I hated.....

1.) TV - it is truly bollocks. Ad breaks from nowhere, loads of God TV (strangely fascinating), and shopping channels galore. Total bollocks which i'm sure some people would love. the hughlight was an ad for Ronco (remember them) selling a knife set which started as one knife for $39.99 (spread over 3 months at $13.33) and rising after interminably numerous cries of "But wait....theres more" into a 25 piece knife set, with 8 steak knives, a vegeatble cutter a meat thermometer and a rather dildo-ish looking device used for injecting things into meat, such as Olives, or Garlic cloves,or even mashed potato. Unbe-fucking-lievable. The ad was at least 30 minutes long. Crap but compelling

2.) The roads - badly signed, badly lit, poorly laid out, potholed and very, very straight. The M25 is almost forgiven. Oh and it might be an idea if they told you the right hand lane was an exit rather than just letting you drift onto the wrong road. Just a thought.

3.) Dasani water - everywhere in Disney and Universal....No.....No...this is very bad.

4.) US airlines - worse than anything we could devise. Patently struggling with demand during summer and obviously struggling with the new security regime. We left Orlando 2 hours late (weather). Our flight to Gatwick was canned after 3 hours of being on the stand due to the plane being hit by a luggage truck blown into it by the exhaust of another jet. Put into a hotel for the night with NO food or drink. Told the flight was cancelled for 2 days (what no spare aircraft?). Flwon to Atlanta after having to check in again and go through all the security again. Delayed out of Atlanta for an hour and a half due to a computer failure on the way to the runway. Arrived at Gatwick 32 hours later than planned. Next time I want to see the words British and Airways written on the side of my plane.

And thats it. Overall a very impressive place. It's easy to see why only 20% of yanks have a passport when they have so much within their own borders. But it is very insular. Watching or listening to the news you would never know anything existed outside of its borders and I guess its a lot clearer to me why September 11th was such a shock. I'm sure I heard one newsreader refer to "Athens, Europe" when briefly mentioning the Olympics. No mention of Greece then?

Later, Grocerjack

Philadelphia Bitch……

We flew into Philadelphia in Jacks’ misguided attempt to reduce the costs of the holiday. This is the story…

Plane 2 hours late into Gatwick. Boarded 3 hours late, took off after 2 hours on the stand. US Air had kindly re-booked our onward Orlando flight – I say kindly because several others were informed of an impending hotel stay.

Very nice plane – great entertainment system. Watched Lord of the Rings (the third one) – What a dull bastard film, perhaps its translation to the airline seat back screen was not the best, but it killed over 3 hours of the flight. Transatlantic flights do not contain a lot of scenery, apart from Greenland. Landed 19:45 US time. Went through US immigration in 5 minutes (yes 5 minutes). The guy looked like, and was built like a Marine. But he was friendly and courteous. By his side was the a book called “Jihad”, although I can’t remember the authors name all I could think of was what an odd, or indeed very apt choice of reading that would be for an Immigration officer.

Then we went through the next lot of Security for the internal flight to Orlando. That is where the bitch was. Ugly as fuck, with horrific wriy gingerish hair and thick black framed glasses. My assumption is she was one of the Kwik Fit Fitter type dykes – the sort of dyke that want’s to look like and be like a man. Butch is an understatement. I went through the screening device and bleeped, as per usual (this always happens to me – perhaps I have an artificial limb I’m unaware of). So this dumb Bitch asks me to remove my watch and go again. Another bleep. Hmm. Must be my keys….well I had them in my pocket, so into the tray they went. Another attempt, another bleep. Then she started….”OK Buddy (yep really), that’s once too often, go stand in the pen” I was pointed to a separate penned off area. “Don’t talk to anybody, don’t touch anything” came the screeching voice. A very polite guy came over and started to run the wand over me. It bleeped at my belt, so I removed that. It bleeped at my inhaler, so in the tray with that! It bleeped at a packet of Gaviscon tablets in my shirt pocket. Even the security guy laughed and said “Jeez, any more we should know about” . My response was “I didn’t know I had this much mate!”.

At this point though the Bitch had got GMD to remove loads of bits as well and then she “penned” teenager. Baby had yet to go through, but was suddenly confronted by her 3 closest relatives being penned for extra security. Then Bitch started shouting at my security guy “He’s only got 3 tickets”. She kept shouting this until I finally decided to give her some back. You see, Baby was upset and becoming visibly distraught because Bitch wouldn’t let GMD back to console her. Teenager was also visibly upset now as she was given the wand treatment.

“I’ve got 4 tickets and 4 passports” I shouted

“He’s only got 3 tickets” she shouted again

“FOUR TICKETS, FOUR FUCKING PASSPORTS” I shouted. Alarm flashed over GMD’s eyes, but I had calculated that we were through immigration and were effectively in. Then my security guy butted in.

“He’s got 4 tickets, and 4 passports and 4 boarding passes”

“….uuuh well he only showed me three” said Bitch. But the Humble Pie Lorry had pulled up and was carving her a big slice at this point. I resisted the temptation to give the finger.

Yeah, you stupid bitch. I tried to smuggle someone into the country and your immigration colleague didn’t reconcile the forms and passports to the number of people!

Dumb Bitch then.

Actually Dumb Stupid Ignorant Ugly Bitch.

This did taint our initial impression of America. This was further dented by the 4 hour delay in our onward flight thanks to Tropical Storm Alex (the first named one of the year apparently). Philadelphia Airport is like Victoria Coach Station on the internal side. A dump. Hard seats, the coffee shops all closed at 10. Nowhere to go, nothing to do for four fucking hours. When we finally left for Orlando it was 1 in the morning. We flew above and to the side of Alex which was spectacular to see night, illuminated as it was by copious amounts of lightning. 2 hours of flight allowed me to calm down and accept gracefully that it was no-ones fault but the weather. We finally arrived at the villa at 5:30 in the morning instead of 8:00 the previous evening as expected. I had been on the go for 32 hours non-stop.

A day at the marvellous villa by the pool and an excursion to a Ponderosa, all you can eat for next to fuck all restaurant, and a visit to the amazing local Wal-Mart, which made our local Asda/Wal-Mart look like a corner shop soothed the stresses and within hours we were all back to normal and ready to go. You can buy guns (the hunting type) at Wal-Mart and car tyres there…yep they have an aisle for tyres. I had visions of people doing their weekly/monthly shop and JohnBoy BillyBob turning to his wife (the undoubtedly lovely Mary-Jane) and saying in that deep southern Floridian drawl

“Honey, we need some tyres for the pick up, hold on while I get another truck” (they call supermarket trolleys, trucks!).

So, I went out the cynic and came back having had a wonderful time and being converted to the way of life. This has put a spanner in the works of our planned holiday home purchase in France. We are now looking at the long term villa in Florida option. France is favourite because of its comparative nearness....but who knows. Next post will complete my America experience with the nightmare of coming home and a few other bits and pieces of observations. Then its back to normal, otherwise this becomes the blog equivalent of sitting through my holiday slides.

More later, GrocerJack

Ride’em Cowboy.....

So, here is how the scoring went between me and Teenager in our “ride stare out” bet. It turned out that “It’s a Small World” was closed (phew) so my plan had been thwarted, but she had already cleverly inserted a “fast and furious” clause before we left anyway, meaning that embarrassment was no longer a viable method of winning. This meant it was a tough match.

Rock ‘n’ Roller Rollercoaster featuring Aerosmith – Disney MGM – Teenager and Jack rode this – an absolute stunner to start with going from 0-60 in (allegedly) 2.6 seconds, straight into an inverted loop in the dark. Pins you to the seat. Quality ride, completed 4 times during the day. Score 1-1

Twilight Zone Tower of Terror – Disney MGM – Teenager and Jack completed this several times including once at night. Sheer terror and playing brilliantly on most people’s fear of runaway lifts. Another quality ride. Score 2-2.

Dr Dooms Fearfall – Universal Islands of Adventure (hereafter known as UIOA) – What a letdown. 200 ft high you are sent upwards at high speed and dropped just as quickly and errr….thats it. The remainder of the 30 seconds or so were as frightening as bouncing on the end of your bed…..er….. on your own of course. Oh dear. 3-3

The Hulk – UIOA – fuck me what a ride (as the actress probably once said to a man of the cloth) – this bastard is high and long and unlike most coasters doesn’t winch you to the top slowly and let gravity do the rest…oh no. This one makes you think that is what will happen but halfway up the first bit it shoots you out of the tunnel straight into an inverted loop at fuck knows what speed. All I know is that I had around 7 or 8 goes and NEVER got used to that start. 4-4

Spiderman – UIOA – not scary but absolute class. 3D glasses required ut the effect is mind blowing. Spidey even lands on your car bonnet and the whole thing judders as he does it. I doubt the ride goes more than 20 ft in the air and is totally indoors. But the bit that makes you think you are going up the side of the Empire State building and then falling off it made GMD nearly pass out. Quality ride. 5-5

Duelling Dragons – UIOA – 2 coasters intertwined (Fire and Ice) giving the impression that at several points you will collide with the other, or that your legs will smash into the occupants of the other coaster legs, splintering bones and leaving you in agonising pain for life. 6-6

Revenge of The Mummy – fuck me what a ride again (said the actresses sister to the Bishops vibrating friend) – Universal Studios – I cannot really describe this because it is not tall, high or in 3D. But is frightening, fucking fast, hot, cold, wet and superb. 7-7

And so it went on……..incluidng the 3 massive bastards at Busch Gardens and the wonderful (and possibly the best) ride called Kraken at Seaworld (which got 8 goes overall). We were level and it was looking to be an honourable draw. Lets call it 14-14.

But then……. At Blizzard Beach, a Disney water park…Jack threw the gauntlet down. Summit Plummet is a water slide. So what I hear you say? Well…it’s not just a water slide………its 120ft high, the drop off the edge is sheer, absolutely sheer. You reach 60mph and it lasts just over 6 seconds. 6 seconds of absolute naked fucking terror. One to test the nether regions and the swimming cossie. We queued for an hour. At 100ft Teenager was looking peaky. Jack was also feeling a bit sweaty and not because of the heat. You see Jack has (well had) an aversion to heights. Vertigo when standing on a chair to change a light bulb….you know what I mean. Anyway I suspected a chink in the armour and so being a real bastard I did a little gamesmanship and would grab the handrail and say “whoah did this thing move?”…..yes she was definitely getting jittery. At 110 ft we heard the familiar cheery shout from GMD, herself a self confessed heights/water phobic. She was at 80ft on the “rapids” ride in a doughnut thing. Quick as a flash….Teenager was off….”Sorry Dad….I can’t do it…I just can’t do it”. “That’s alright Sweetie” says I, rejoicing deep inside. I smiled, she looked sad and went back down. 5 minutes later Jack had launched himself off this fearsome bastard of a slide.

Jack had won. Defeat was taken with dignity, victory was taken with…constant Chicken noises and copious amounts of Chicken meals at every snack break. Cheap…yes, underhand…yes, selfish…yes, did it feel good? Abso-fucking-lutely. To cap it off for Teenager……Baby did the slide as well straight after me…….yes Baby did it as well. Even Baby beat Teenager. All I could hear was the sound of pegs being descended. And if you think ’m mean….just think……in a few years my blood pressure will not be able to take this stuff…so it was important for my pride and dignity to do this now. My victory is recorded in Jack’s family history. Her day will come….but not just yet.

More later, when technical problems are finally erased, GrocerJack

Jack is Back......without Charley!

Yes, my friends, I'm back and currently jet lagged beyong fucking belief,. I will be mostly resting today whilst reading the thoughts of those blogs I link to. Strange how I missed reading the musings of Watski, Dimaond Geezer, Inspector Sands, Croxy, Mick, Haddocktwat and the others but I resisted any temptations to post from Sunny Florida. I also need to put a little thought into my Jack Over America postings. Some highlights though

1. ) Stitched by the Airlines again....now it's personal. They hate me, I hate them. From now on it's BA only for me.
2.) I won! Teenager lost by one ride, but to be fair it was a monstrously scary one and she lost with honour and dignity even if she has no idea what those words mean.
3.) Charley, came after me like a demented stalker. One minute missing us completely and then changing direction and hitting us directly...yes bang on target, right over the top of the villa!
4.) Americans....some humble pie and changes in thought about these people. Aprt from the bitch at Philadelphia airport. I hope she cops an unfortunate one soon.
5.) The rides........what can I say......they make our theme park rides look like a slightly bumpy cycle ride.

More, much more after some sleep re-synchronisation.

Later, GrocerJack

Ok, so thats it in all honesty for 3 whole weeks unless I find a way of posting from Florida. I will be doing my best to soak up the culture and atmosphere of America, and hopefully to feed the occasionally creative writing process.

So here's my advice. Use this as a Test Card. Sit in front of the PC with a decent Rioja, or perhaps a drop of Sauvignon Blanc for the white wine fans amongst you. Beer works as well. Enlarge the picture. Put a CD in the drive, turn the volume up and sit back and relax. Jack will be back on the 24th. Later, my friends,later, Grocerjack 

Utter Shite, Bunch of Arse and Total Bollocks.......

I can barely contain my excitement! The company has decided that it is going to adopt some pile of festering dog turd called the Six Sigma methodology. This is outlined below and just has to be the single piece of Utter Shite, Bunch of Arse and Total bollocks I have ever read.

And I've read this four fucking times.

Six sigma is a disciplined methodology for improving organizations' processes, based on rigorous data gathering and analysis. The approach focuses on helping organizations produce products and services better, faster and cheaper by improving the capability of processes to meet customer requirements. Six sigma identifies and eliminates costs, which add no value to customers. Unlike simple cost-cutting programmes, however, six sigma delivers cost cuts whilst retaining or improving value to the customer.
The term six sigma is based on a statistical rationale. Six-sigma performance is the goal and equates to 3.4 defects per million process, product or service opportunities. The focus is on reducing variability to achieve the goal.
The six sigma breakthrough strategy involves a 'Define-Measure-Analyse-Improve-Control' (DMAIC) methodology broadly based on the Shewhart plan-do-check-act cycle.
The strategy takes an organization's key business processes through five phases to deliver breakthroughs in performance:
 phase 1: Define - involves defining the scope and goals of the improvement project in terms of customer requirements and the process that delivers these requirements
 phase 2: Measure - involves measuring the current process performance -input, output and process - and calculating the sigma capability for short and longer-term process capability
 phase 3: Analyse - involves identifying the gap between the current and desired performance, prioritising problems and identifying root causes of problems. Benchmarking the process outputs, products or services, against recognized benchmark standards of performance may also be carried out
 phase 4: Improve - involves generating the improvement solutions and fixing problems to prevent them from recurring so that the required financial and other performance goals are met
 phase 5: Control - involves implementing the improved process in a way that 'holds the gains'. Standards of operation will be documented in systems such as ISO 9000. After a 'running-in' period, the process capability is calculated again to establish whether the performance gains are being sustained. The cycle is repeated, if further performance shortfalls are identified.

Whatever happened to the GrocerJack Principle called GOFPOCS - Good Old Fashioned Plain Old Common Sense? Oh and the so called "Shewhart" principle is called Plan/Do/Review at Baby's school. My question is who thinks this sort of bollocks up? Does anybody ever really take any fucking notice? Proof, if ever it was needed that we live in a society where words speak louder than actions.

The saddest thing is that I'm sure there are corporate cock sucking fuckers out there who'll get a hard on, or find the pantie area moistening just by reading this. Pornographic writing for High Flying Achievers.

Later, GrocerJack 

 

Get off your back, go into Town, don't let them down.....

Well, I don't know if its because I'm almost fully into holiday mode, or because things have happened at work and time is a bit tight (for once) but I am finding it difficult to write anything at the moment. However, I didn't want to just piss off for 3 weeks and leave this blog on the work of art posting, but I also didn't want to write anything more "absolute shite" than normal. (Note to Watski.....I reckon it was my site that bought down Google on the search for "absolute shite" but after thinking about it I realised it was a search on "total bollocks" that probably did it as Google tried to divert millions to this little corner).

So, this posting is a bit of filler really until the light bulb in my head is once again illuminated. A case of GrocerJack going into town, in order to not let them down. Anyone who knows what I'm referring to there listened to too much Junior Choice on Radio 1 in the 70's and is giving their age away!

My cunning plan to beat Teenager in our Theme Park Ride Stare Out competition is almost finalised and runs along these lines. She is a Teenager and has transmigrated from sweet natured little girl into a full on lippy girl power, boy mad, MSN addicted, shite music infatuated daughter. The upside of this is I no longer have to put up with the twee bollocks rubbish she used to like. Not for her the childlike attraction of seeing Donald Duck (who wears no trousers normally but wears a towel when seen coming out of the bath!), Mickey Mouse and Goofy et al. No, she has "grown out" of that. Now that she has a sense of adventure and wants her thrills "on the edge" I think I have found a ride ahe will not go on. One that she would not entertain in a million years.

The one ride I know that is incredibly twee and sweet is called "Its a Small World". I have been warned about this by colleagues at work. It is saccharin sweet, sickly schmaltzy, completely safe and very slow and has a loudly played repetitive theme tune that is so unbelievably annoying and cloying that its very possible that Kurt Cobain may have been listening to this sometime before he blew his brains out trying to stop the song incessantly repeating inside his head. I am sure she will not go near this, but I may just enter this "torture by sweetness" chamber and suffer the sheer hell of the tune and the sweetness and faux sincerity in order to be able to state that I found one ride that she would not go on! I may go mad of course...I may want to drill holes in my head to let the noise out, or rip my ears off with a blunt rusty Coke Can ring, but thats what being a Dad is about, taking the chances in order to prove that I am not yet ready to move over for the Usher/50 Cent/Arsebollocks ShiteMusic generation.

Smart plan huh?

What do you think?

Just a quick note on Sven Fuckwit before I leave this posting. Sack the fool because he is an incompetent, spineless and tactically inept coach. But not because he screwed some airhead secretary who was working her way through the hierarchy of the FA, presumably until she found her favourite outfield position. I don't rate him as I have documented previously, but football managers should be sacked for footballing reasons not because of a few shags or inappropriate comments. Besides that, he isn't married and was prospectively only unfaithful to his girlfriend, the lovely Nancy Dell'Olio. But as far as I am aware you do not take any vows to co-habit or date so what did he do wrong? Mind you if a balding, rather dull, bespectacled bloke like him can get so lucky, where the hell did I go wrong?

Later, GrocerJack

This Weeks Work of Art is by Wassily Kandinsky, one of my favourite "modern" artists. This takes some looking at, but eventually draws you in and in a similar way to Picasso you can start to see different impressions and images within it. This one is simply called Yellow Red and Blue. I will not try and attempt a formal critique of this..I mean where do you start? It is not a traditionalist image, but it is hauntingly beautiful and the use of vivid coulours immediately draws the eye to the left side of the picture...why would he do that...was it intentional? The sphere in the top of the picture looks to me like the Sun...but is it being eclipsed? I do have a copy on my wall and it ALWAYS attracts comment no matter how apathetic towards art the viewers are. This is the last piece until I return from my hols. For more images of Kandinsky and many other fabulous and crap artists check out the excellent Mark Hardens Artchive. Later , GrocerJack 

Scared...moi.....?
 
Each passing day now has me wondering who will blink first. Me, or Teenager. I have shown her the web sites for Florida attractions, given her my book on the whole area (which should be called Florida for British Fuckwits).
 
But.....Teenager hasn't seen a ride she isn't prepared to try. And this is the bet.....I will beat her and will go on at least one ride that she won't.
 
But she's not blinking.
She's not phased
She doesn't give a shit
She couldn't give a fucking toss!
 
I am now relying on this being teenage hormonal bravado or stupidity. Whereas me.....well I am already thinking twice about Doctor Dooms Suicidal Deathtrap Fearfall or whatever it's called. I liked the look of the Duelling Dragons ride but looking at the web video I can feel my arteries clogging up instantly. It says "not suitable for those with heart conditions".....well how the fuck will I know that? Perhaps these are the very thing to test out my LDL Cholesterol levels. I thought I might get her with the Twilight Zone Tower of Brain Blood Vessel Popping Terror...but no...her response to this was "wow...thats way cool". The Incredible Hulk Instant Eyeball Explosion Coaster? Not a problem..."Dad it reaches 70 miles an hour....how good is that?"...."Oh yeah....it looks quite interesting"  I reply, desperately trying to disguise the tremor in my voice.
 
So now, five times a day I mentally repeat this mantra
 
I can't back down...I can't back down...I will not back down.....I am not going to lose.....
 
Nope, hasn't worked so far.
 
Scared....moi?
 
Oui :-(
 
Later, Grocerjack
 
PS...I have a cunning and extraordinarily devious plan hatching which may guarantee that I win.....more when I have developed it further!
 
 

Choices, choices, choices......
 
Well in a weeks time almost exactly to the second I will be starting my annual main holiday in the Sunshine State of Florida for a whole 3 weeks. I have been fairly ambivalent about this holiday so far because it felt more like "one for kids" than one for me and GMD. You see, me and GMD are very similar - we are, quite franky, lazy bastards on holiday. We like to holiday in France because we like everything about the place...yes that also includes the people, who only appear arrogant because most IGNORANT Brits think they should speak in our language rather than their native tongue. I have lost count of the times I've heard someone saying something along the lines of
 
" 2 Pints of lager"......"I SAID 2 PINTS OF LAGER"....." 2 PINTOS OF BEERIO YOU FUCKING FRENCH/SPANISH/ITALIAN* KNOB/WANKER/BASTARD/TWAT**"........."why can't they fucking understand me?".
 
* - delete as applicable
** - errr...yeah delete as applicable as well
 
We actually heard someone in the self service cafe on the site we stayed at two years ago complain because
 
"....that were a reet palaver...they don't speak fooking english at the till".
 
Oh the joy of seeing our finest born and bred adopting their Little Englander ignorance in a not so foreign clime and inflicting it on the people merely trying to serve them.
 
Anyway, I digress. So we like to sit by the pool, or go to the beach, eat civilised street cafe lunches, read loads of books to make up for the fact we don't get time at home, meet new people, visit little market towns or historic sites (Carcassone last time..amazing walled city that is actually still used as a working city and not closed down for tours) and have barbecues in the lovely evening sun. We never have an intinerary, decisions are made on the day or the night before depending on weather and whim. But this year......I have had to plan the itinerary (with help) so that we can see the Disney/Universal etc etc  sites. We have to try and fit a "water park" in and alongside that a trip to Kennedy Space Center because Jack still finds Spaceships and Rockets awesome and fascinating. All of which makes it feel less like a holiday and more of a ....tour......thus making me a tourist. I like to absorb the culture of where I visit, so when in France I try and speak French, eat the local specialities, drink the local wine...you know..try and "fit in" and experience something different. So to absorb some of American culture I thought a plan of action beforehand would be good. Some of this is based on observation and some on what people have told me ...Here it is...
 
1.) Eat like a horse and  become clinically obese
2.) Become a good God fearing bible bashing person
3.) Use false sincerity a lot
4.) Carry a gun
5.) Use  the word "trunk" instead of boot
6.) Tell anyone who asks that yes I do know the Queen and in fact she is house sitting for us whilst we are away
7.) Say Eyerack when talking about the situation in Iraq
8.) Make my tyres sqeal at every opportunity when driving
9.) Make out that Budweiser is a nice beer (fuck me that'll be hard ...it'd be easier to pretend that drinking piss was nice)
10.) Always ask for the "washroom" ....never the toilet, the bog, the carzy, the loo, or the shithouse
11.) Wear very loud shirts and huge shorts
12.) Never lock the car door after parking
13.) Never visit an old warehouse or factory, just to ensure I am not caught in any final scene shootouts
14.) If I hear a noise outside the villa, do not go outside on my own without a torch
15.) Say "ass" instead of "arse"...mind you I never comment on other "asses" in front of GMD as this usually results in an inflamed ear from a swift right hander
 
...any other suggestions on how to absorb or adopt some American culture will be most welcome.
 
One last favour........on the night we arrive there is a launch from the Space Centre (my proper spelling). It is the Delta 2 Messenger mission to Mercury, but I will have been on the go for around 24 hours by this time....the kids won't be able to stay awake for it and GMD would have to stay at the villa if they don't want to go. What should I do? Should I stay, or should I go? If I go, am I likely to be safe on my own? How close can I get if I haven't bought a "launch ticket". Is a launch actually worth seeing? We are staying about 50 miles from Kennedy so , really, any advice is gratefully received.
 
Later, Grocerjack
 

Summer? Surely not....

Oh my God! We've had 3 sunny days on the trot after the most miserable June and July for a long time. Why haven't we had the patronising bollocks from the weather forecasters about making sure we're covered up? Why haven't the water companies issued stern warnings about a prospective drought? Why haven't standpipes been introduced through this unseasonally warm spell? Why haven't we heard doom-mongering reports on how many people have died in drowning/sunbathing/gardening/freak ice cream related accidents? Why hasn't the sensational soaraway sizzling Sun ran its "Phew! What a scorcher" headline and covered its front page with obligatory picture of a packed Brighton beach alonside a picture of  a hat wearing smiling sun and  a thermometer showing the temperature in London against the invariably lower temperature of some generally sunnier and  warmer city (like Madrid)?

Have we just not noticed?

This cannot continue...I shall bring it to a close by doing what I usually do....washing the car. A surefire method that is far better than any rain dance!

Later, GrocerJack

Blame Culture
 
The video from Washington Dulles airport that shows the terrorists being security checked has been released. You can see it here.
 
This morning on 5 Live a woman representing a group called Skyscraper Safety in the US was interviewed about the video. When asked who was responsible she then went on to say that culpability was evident at all levels from the top of Government all the way down to the security guards at the airport and the cabin and cockpit crew of the hijacked airlines. She had lost her son in one of the Twin Towers, and so is understandably annoyed and upset with the events that unfurled that day. I would feel the same. But surely blame cannot be apportioned across the board as she stated? Ok, Intelligence didn’t spot the plots that unfurled that day, but the Americans have the best Intelligence Service and Intelligence Technology in the world, so if they didn’t see the threat or correlate the intelligence then what hope does anyone else have? She blamed the builders and architects of the Twin Towers branding them as “deathtraps”. Why? Because they weren’t built to withstand the full impact of two bloody great airliners being ploughed into them at 500 mph? Is any building anywhere built to that standard? Of course not! When they were built I doubt anyone would have suspected such an act, and even an accident would have been highly unlikely as any pilot of a distressed jet would ditch into the sea before ploughing into a building. Maybe now we have to make these considerations and it’s bad that we have had to witness such a thing before it became an issue. But blaming builders and architects is a bit strong – if a terrorist detonates a mini nuclear device in the middle of London and flattens most of it are we going to berate the likes of Christopher Wren, Norman Foster or Richard Rogers for not designing and building their creations to withstand thermo-nuclear blast? We wouldn’t, but I can’t be sure that the Yanks wouldn’t.
 
Blaming the airlines for not having secure cockpits was another target. Hmmm, well for years people have happily asked to view the cockpit, apparently without causing an issue so why would the pilots/airlines have thought any different on that day? They had not been given any warnings, or put on heightened alert. They didn’t know what they didn’t know. In fact I’m damn sure that when things kicked off they did their utmost to prevent anything from happening. The security staff at the airport were probably just going through the motions after years of checking people thanklessly and being told not to be overly aggressive in order to make customers happy and not prevent the free flow of dollars into airline and airport executives pockets. I watched a programme last week about a Peruvian aircraft that crashed  near Lima because the aircraft maintenance guy who cleaned and checked the outside had left some duct tape over the pitot sensors (which detect air speed and height). A 5 quid piece of tape killed 77 people. The guy who left the tape on the outside of the craft was jailed for 7 years. He was paid around $2 per hour. That’s right - you pay someone shit money and then put them in a position to make such a fatal error. That’s the analogy to the security staff at Washington. Being de-motivated and poorly paid does not lead to vigilant or professional staff.
 
I guess my point is that although mistakes were made that day and perhaps before it, they were genuine and honest mistakes. No-one could have foreseen what happened that day and I doubt we could foresee it now, even in the current climate of heightened awareness.
 
Why am I talking about this? Because next week I fly to the States and quite frankly the whole security thing worries the shit out of me.
 
 
Later, Grocerjack