Live 8 – The Jack View

At 2 ‘o’ clock on Saturday the 2^nd of July it all started again. 20 years on from that glorious hit sunny day in 1985, when the generation I was firmly lodged into got off of our arses and changed part of the world.

Because we cared.

Because we found a conscience.

Because we had been moved by the vision and passion of one man – Sir Bob Geldof. The man is simply inspirational. I’m not a fan of the honours system, or peerages in general because very few genuinely deserve to be lifted in status. But by God, Geldof is a true “Sir”. A real and genuine person with real commitment and passion. Surely Saint Bob is more justified?

And by God, back in 1985 did we change it for the better. If there was one reason to see why Live Aid was worthwhile it was the show stopping moment, after the Drive video from The Cars was re-shown and the African girl at the end, some 10 minutes from death walked onto the stage, a beautiful and stunning young woman, now possessing the gift of education having just completed her finals in Agriculture Studies (or something like that).

A single moment to stop the heart for a second and to bring a genuine tear to the eyes of a jaded old cynic like me. It was a truly inspiring sight. That one young woman embodied everything that was right about Live Aid and showed just how direct action from people who care can make a huge difference.

One life saved, one life transformed

One life spent living instead of dying.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

And so to the gig itself. I watched most of it, or it was always on the background – a decent backdrop to a good and important day. One thing was certain though, the old bands, the crusty old dinosaurs of music were the ones who stole the show, ahead of burgeoning new talents like The Killers, Keane and Snow Patrol.

Ratings (out of 20) and comments:

Sir Paul McCartney and U2: Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

16/20 – not bad but Sir Beatle Of Macca appeared to have problems hitting some notes. Perhaps the voice is just old now. The horn playing faux Beatles was a nice touch and it did get the gig off to a solid and happy start.

U2: Beautiful Day, Vertigo, One

17/20 – simply terrific as per usual. They have the knack of getting the crowd on their side

Coldplay: In My Place, Fix You

15/20 – maybe a wee bit tired from Glasto perhaps. Still a good score though and they have all the potential to be a magical live band going forward.

Coldplay and Richard Ashcroft: Bitter Sweet Symphony

16/20 – a great idea from Coldplay this – deny you had goosepimples when the string intro started? Ashcroft rose to the occasion, but to call him the best singer in the world might be pushing it.

Sir Elton John (introduced by Little Britain's Matt Lucas and David Walliams): Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, The Bitch is Back

4/20 – Fuck Off Sir Baldness of Pinner. You don’t have it anymore. Retire gracefully and play the Gay pride circuit where undoubtedly they will love you forever. Walliams and Lucas were funny though.

Sir Elton John and Pete Doherty: Children of the Revolution

0/20 – The words “bunch of fucking arse” may well have been coined specifically for crap like this. Sir Wigness introduced the twat Doherty to pay homage to Marc Bolan. Sir Wigness, you have besmirched the memory of a great pop star with your partronage of this shite and damaged a great song. Doherty – you’re an insult to everyone and not fit to lick the dog shit from Bolan’s boots if he were still with us. Take your overdose, die and do us all a favour you fucking moron.

Dido: White Flag, Thank You, Seven Seconds

16/20 - Surprisingly good, and the guest appearance of the peerless Youssou N’Dour made it better. Dido actually seemed to lift under his presence and their joint rendition of 7 Seconds was pure musical magic.

Stereophonics: Dakota, Local Boy In The Photograph, Bartender And The Thief, Superman

13/20 – not bad, but a little underwhelming and a bit too much emphasis on the “croaky” voice of the singer

REM (introduced by Ricky Gervais): Imitation of Life, Everybody Hurts, Man on the Moon

14/20 – Mad Michael and his Blue Stripe injected a bit of energy into proceedings – not sure about the elongated scream – but Everybody Hurts is their anthem (imho) and they did pull it off nicely.

Ms Dynamite: Dy-na-mi-tee, Judgement Day, Redemption Song

8/20 – I’m afraid she’s not really my bag so I was unlikely to be won over. I listened to the first song and tuned out for the rest. The call for everyone to wave their arms was a tad patronising as well.

Keane: Bed Shaped, Somewhere Only We Know

15/20 – they admitted to being as nervous as a bag of bollocks beforehand, but they did perform quite nicely. Never likely to be “stadium” gig material because the material is a little lightweight, but pleasant enough and who knows what will happen to their stuff going forward.

Travis: Sing, Turn, Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

15/20 – polished and professional with an unscripted version of Staying Alive to amuse the crowd.

Travis with Bob Geldof: I Don't Like Mondays

9/20 – You’re a good bloke Bob, but really, forget the singing career. Salvaged only by the fact that the song still stands up after 20 odd years as a bloody good tune.

Annie Lennox (introduced by Brad Pitt): Why, Little Bird, Sweet Dreams

2/20 – I cannot fucking stand the woman as a singer, too much “lalalala – wooh wooh wooooh” although oddly enough she is a very pleasant person.

UB40: Medley - Food For Thought, Who You Fighting For, Reasons, Red Red Wine, Can't Help Falling In Love

16/20 – Brilliant to hear Food for Thought and would have been topped if they had done King. Memories came flooding back of some ….ahem…….sofa moments with ex girlfriends. UB40 was always good backing music for when undie removal was the target mission.

Snoop Dogg: Medley - Ups And Downs, It's A G Thang, Drop It, Signs, What's My Name

10/20 – Don’t like his stuff but he did have energy. Like the “mother loving” moments as well. Must have given the Beeb a few artery busting moments.

Razorlight: Somewhere Else, Golden Touch, Vice

10/20 – Was it just me or was this just insipid, weak, lily-livered bollocks. I sort of like some of their stuff but talk about rabbits innheadlights. You, that must be it, they completely bottled it.

Madonna: Like a Prayer, Music, Ray of Light

19/20 – I’ve liked a bit of her stuff from time to time but never really thought of her as a “live” singer. Well, she was fucking brilliant here and made Sir Slaphead of Watford look right a right cunt with his stupid Brit Award comments about her inability to sing live. Sir BigForehead – she wiped the fucking floor with you, had the audience (there and ta home) eating out of her hand. She looked fit as fuck, and ……….ooooh I think I’ve just come! The moment before with the Ethiopian girl from the Drive video set this up nicely as a juxtaposition of emotion between tears and joy. Madge baby, leave that twat of a husband and come to Jack.

Snow Patrol: Chocolate, Run

14/20 – Great songs, great album, bottled it. And why was the lead singer stuck with a schoolboy grin on his face? Had he just let off a stinkbomb or something.

The Killers: All These Things That I've Done

15/20 – A late entry to the running order, thus the reason for just one song. Of the “new” bands they just edged it

Joss Stone: Super Duper Love, I Had A Dream, Some Kind of Wonderful

10/20 – nah, just too small a voice and presence for a gig of this scale. Nice looking bird though.

Scissor Sisters: Laura, Take Your Mama, Everybody Wants The Same Thing

15/20 – very impressive but I knew they would be as their Brits performance was also quite staggeringly good. They would have scored higher but for their insistence on plugging a new (albeit good) song.

Velvet Revolver: Do It For The Kids

10/20 – my jury is still put on these, both from what I’ve heard and this performance. One thing is certain, no one slept through their set.

Sting: Every Breath You Take, Message in a Bottle, Desert Rose

14/20 – not bad, but hardly the most inspiring of people. I can’t put my finger on what, but I just felt something was missing from this performance.

Mariah Carey: Vision of Love, Make It Happen, We Belong Together

0/10 – How the fuck was this allowed to happen? Even had her “african” children on stage to show just how caring she is. Stupid lightweight mental bitch. I’ve heard rumours about her behaviour before and after which, if true, sum up everything I thought about this pampered, prissy, dim fuckwit.

Robbie Williams: Let Me Entertain You, Feel, Angels

14/20 – Now, from the crowd perspective I expect this was excellent. But from watching at home it missed because he insisted on getting the crowd to sing INSTEAD of him. This meant that TV viewers like me just heard what sounded like a few drunken people singing after leaving a pub. There are never any microphones in the crowd so you never really know it sounds. George Michael got away with at the Freddie mercury tribute gig, as did the mercurial Mr ….ahem mercury at the original Live Aid. But here it just meant gaps in the songs. A little tip Robbie, me old mucker…….you are the entertainer, so fucking entertain. You sing, not me. I might sing along with you but I resent singing along without you. It’s what you do so fucking do it next time. As someone on 5Live said – it may as well have been Norman Wisdom with a microphone.

The Who (introduced by Peter Kay): Who Are You? Won't Get Fooled Again

19/20 – Now I know the later bands had the advantage of a light show in the darkness of twilight/night time, but frankly they were superb. A blistering version of a song I never rated in Who Are You got the audience there and at home rocking away. To follow that with the wonderful Won’t Get Fooled Again then finished the job completely. Daltrey’s voice may not have it’s youthful power but the yell near the end showed he can still hit a note. Marvellous and wonderful. Shame the director missed some of Townshends trademark windmill guitar playing and Daltrey’s trademark microphone hurling. Oh yeah, Peter kay was dead funny as well, even managing to get the crowd singing Amarillo before The Who appeared.

Pink Floyd: Breathe/Run, Money, Wish You Were Here, Comfortably Numb)

20/20 - I do have some bias here as these are my favourite ever band. Ever. I was also worried in case they did a Led Zeppelin at the original Live Aid, which was as abysmal as anything ever seen before. I was worried how things would go as the apparent acrimony between Waters and Gilmour would need to be capped to avoid any embarrassment. I drew a sharp breath as the darkness on the stage was accompanied by the heartbeat signature from Dark Side of The Moon. I sensed the anticipation in the crowd. Within 30 seconds I, and the Clan, were all grinning madly as it became obvious that the masters were back in their workshop. Supreme musicianship, superb timing, a fantastic choice of songs, genuine warmth. Waters smiling as he realised what a good feeling it was to be back on a UK stage with his old partners in crime, ditto Gilmour, Mason and Wright. Dick Parry’s sax solo on Money was simply magical, Gilmours guitar was soaring and magnificent in every way. Waters bass guided each song through relentlessly and Mason’s drumming show no signs of being slowed or dimmed though age. The climax of comfortably numb saw a synchronised air guitar solo from me and the boys, along with a good proportion of the crowd. Gilmours strings being pushed to the limits of his Fender Stratocaster to reach the rising notes. A virtuoso performance from a sorely missed band that had the crowd enraptured from all age groups. This is what live music is all about. Surely now a Farewell Tour must be a possibility?

Sir Paul McCartney joined on stage by George Michael

14/20 – a flat way to finish, but not really Sir Scouse of Wings fault. He must have been shitting a brick at the thought of having to follow The Who and Pink Floyd, even more so having seen and heard their blistering performances. Still a good way of winding down and he did a reasonable job.

Overall then a great day and one that I would like to see a bit more frequently although Glastonbury seems to be a key provider of such an eclectic mix of different genre’s and ages. Perhaps I should get myself down there in 2007. But the overriding sensation is that despite what the NME’s poison pen knobber jacks think, there is still a place for our revered bands to inspire and show the newer bands just what is possible, both visually, audibly and performance wise.

Later, FloydJack

How good was that?

I'm off for a few days for Charidee mate so a proper review of two things will occur when I come back

1. ) Doctor Who, the final episode and series overall

2.) Live 8.

I was prepared to be let down by Live 8 but in brief the highlights were U2, Coldplay, Madonna, The Who and most magnificently of all, the supreme Pink Floyd. They stole the show. It was like they'd never been away.

Later FloydJack

One item off the list of things to do.....

Today, I got to play a round of golf on the (in)famous West Course at Wentworth Golf Club. 6839 yards of absolute hell and joy combined. Tortuously undulating fairways with no even lie that I could find. Tons of mature trees with their ball catching branches wide apart. Greens that would put a brand new Axminster carpet to shame with their smoothness and feel. With the added advantage of no carpet burns! Blimey if I could grow this grass like this in my house I would.

I scored 28 points which is 8 off my handicap, but the leap of difficulty between this and my normal course, or the ones I played last week, is like the gulf between walking up Box Hill and Mount Everest. 28 points is not too shabby for my level of ability and I was only beaten by a 12 handicapper (thats pretty fucking good for the non-golfers). We teed off at 08:00, the air temperature being around 25 at the time,. but the humidity level was not far off Rainforest level. Probably because of the large number of trees and bushes all over the place there. Within one hole I was soaked in sweat with the stuf pouring off my brow. But it was worth it.

To the non-golfers all I can say is this is the equivalent of playing your mates at tennis on Centre Court at Wimbledon. Or playing 5 a side footie with mates at Wembley. Or driving your car at full belt around the Nurburgring. It is hallowed turf.

Wentworth itself is also the closest thing to Beverly Hills in the UK, with the rich and famous, though not necessarily the beautiful all living around it , with huge palatial houses and equally huge gardens backing onto the fairways and greens. The clubhouse and car parks drip money. More Aston Martins on show than on the Aston Martin production line. When I parked my rather nice 2003 registered Volvo S60 (well I think it's nice!) in the car park they probably thought I was the bin-man. The clubhouse oozes cash and earned wealth, whether morally or immorally. The hallway leading to the main bar is festooned with golf clubs donated by Tournament winners there over the year. A Driver from Tony Jacklin, a 3-wood from Nick Faldo, several clubs from the imperious Ernie Els. The place is a veritable golfing Hall of Fame. On the course we played a group through who were behind us. They were a group of 4, but only 2 were playing, the others being Coach and Caddy respectively. One of the players was vaguely familar although although we couldn't name him. A film director, or producer we thought. The other was....Kenneth Branagh. A fine actor (watch him in the excellent Conspiracy....chilling) and also a throroughly decent and chatty geezer. We talked as they went through and prepared to tee off. He even offered to "buy" the shot I'd just played straight onto the green. I declined politely ....his last comment was "You lot just want to see a crap shot"....and he duly played one " There you are" he laughed and off they went discussing and negotiating some sort of deal (we heard bits of their conversation as we followed them around the course).

And yes, this may be boring to you , but to me this game, on this course is very much one of the highlights of my life to date. My thanks to my Corporate supplier who set this "jolly" up . They give a another go, and business will fly to them because I am that fucking shallow.

And so, to cap this fortnight or so off, with 144 holes of golf last week, a round on the West Course at Wentworth today, on Sunday I play The Belfry PGA National course in the The Company's annual Charidee golf bash mate. The real competition round is on Monday on the same course, but a few of us (around 30) will play the competition round on Sunday because on Monday we play the equally reknowned (compared to Wentworth) Brabazon course. The course was the scene of the last Ryder Cup triumph for Europe when it was played in the UK. Another one steeped in golfing history. Another thing to tick off the list.

What a fucking brilliant week.

Sometimes the corporate gobbledygook bollocks and Management-WankSpeak I have to endure really is worth it.

Later, GolferJack

Back

I'm back.

Yes it was a good holiday.

Yes it was fucking hot

Yes the golf from me was good (the plan for golf is working)

Yes, I'm back at work

Yes, my life is full of muppets to work with

No, I'm not recharged and not glad to be back.

....but I'm getting there. I'm getting there.

Later, GrocerJack

Blankey Blank

No posts this week. Simple reason. My mind is blank. It's like some sort of machine from an episode of the avengers has taken my mind over and wiped it clean of any thoughts. It is a blank tableau. I'm not annoyed sufficiently by anything to comment on it, nothing has made me laugh, nothing has frustrated me.

I have resistsed the urge to comment on the simply fantastic episode of the best TV programme ever (take a bow Doctor Who) because it is a two parter and doesn't conclude until this week.

And so, I'm off on hols for a week to play golf, drink beer, watch TV and errrrrrr.......yeah that'd be about the lot really.

Later, Grocerjack

Killing Bill again...

Yep, watched both films again last night. These are going to be like Pulp Fiction where every viewing reveals something else missed from the previous. Last nights viewing revealed to me that Budd and Bill were in fact brothers. How the fuck I missed that I'll never know.

Not that I'm becoming obsessed or anything......

後で、ジャック食料商人

Like I said.....

There's always a few bleeding heart, hair shirt, sandal wearing twats ready to criticise the motives of others. So, joining the anti-Live 8 fray is chief weirdo freak knobber and (former?) lead singer of Blur, Damon Albarn sticking his tuppence worth in. Of course, I don't suppose the politics of envy are being played out here by virtue of the very fact he wasn't asked to perform and that wouldn't have anything to do with this little toy-chucking rant?

Wanker

Later, GrocerJack

The Big Blogger House.....

....is my new virtual home for the next 7 weeks (well depending on how quickly people see through my thin mask of deciet and grumpiness and then vote me out). The other lucky contestants are listed on the Big Blogger site linked above. So, I'm off to determine the present that the winner will get from me, some thong style pants, lose about 3 stone in weight to replace my Party 7 with a six-pack, get some "zany" lessons in so I can prove my "wackiness" and generally learn how to express my innermost feelings to all and sundry. Here are the others

Girl (blimey I'm glad this is virtual, just knowing what she writes would stop my 43 year old ticker)
Mike
Vicus Scurra
Gordon Maclean
Jonny B
Miss Mish
Mr Hair
Vitriolica
Clair
NML
Peter
Zoe
Nick Barlow
Dr Rob

I'll keep you posted.

Later, BlogmateJack

The Tarantino Effect

GMD is not due back until Friday and my week so far has been spent drinking, playing golf, catching up on my DVD’s. The Plan surrounding my golf has started to show some benefits and my game is improving, but I can’t say more because it is tempting the Gods of Golf to intervene in a negative way.

So on Monday night I finally managed to sit down and watch a film from my (thus far) favourite film maker, Quentin Tarantino. Regular readers will know that I consider Reservoir Dogs the single best debut film from anybody, ever. They will also know that I consider Pulp Fiction to be the single greatest movie ever made in the history of the world. So good do I think Pulp Fiction is that I do not believe any other film that is made in my lifetime will ever surpass it in terms of screenplay, scripting, story, acting and staying power. It is a modern day masterpiece.

He followed this up with a role in From Dusk Till Dawn which he produced and acted in but didn’t direct. It still had his touches though and was a surprisingly enjoyable film exposing a hitherto unforeseen acting ability in George Clooney. He then followed this up with Jackie Brown, his own homage to the blaxploitation movies of the 70’s. This was a good film but not as ground breaking as the previous stuff, concentrating on characters in favour of the plot. It still had its classic moments though.

The film(s) I watched were of course, Kill Bill, Volumes 1 and 2). In fact I watched the first on Monday and the second on Tuesday. What can I say? If Jackie Brown was the equivalent of the difficult “third album” syndrome suffered by so many recording artists, then this was the triumphant return to form. Both films were fantastic in every way. Both were stylish, well plotted, with great acting, wonderful dialogue, screenplay and photography. Tarantino takes the Martial Arts (volume 1) and Spaghetti Western (volume 2) genres to new heights with these films. Uma Thurman is simply stunning, both visually (in her own understated beauty) and in her physical prowess and her acting ability. But to be fair there isn’t a bad acting job in the film. David Carradine (yes, Grasshopper from Kung Fu) must be undergoing the same kind of career revival as Travolta got from Pulp Fiction. He is both genuinely menacing and calming in equal amounts.

Both films are a credit to Tarantino who is close to being a god of film in my view. Even the interviews with him are interesting and although he is an uber-geek of the highest order, he is also childlike in his excitiable enthusiasm for his films and the whole art form in general. Mr Star Wars George Lucas should take a look at Tarantino to see what it means to someone to make films with heart and soul in spades. But as he sold his soul to the devil of special effects in a trade for plot and characterization I guess he couldn't give a shit (obviously not if Attack of the Clones is anything to go by).

In all the films run to about 4 hours in total, but they are 4 hours well spent in my view. Do yourself a favour and spend a night watching them.

Top moments from each film – from Volume 1 through to Volume 2

1.) The House of Blue Leaves fight, featuring Black Mamba (Thurman) fighting The Crazy 88’s, Gogo and O-Ren Ishii (aka Cottonmouth). Over the top, yes. Stylish, yes. Beautifully filmed, yes. Breathtakingly exciting, yes.

2.) The Origin of O-Ren Ishii anime sequence

3.) The death of Buck the Fuck and the hospital porter, both indulging in decidedly shady sexual practices whilst the hero(ine) is in a coma.

4.) Nancy Sinatra’s hauntingly brilliant rendition of “Bang Bang”

5.) Wu Tan Clan score for the House of Blue Leaves fight.

6.) The degrading living conditions of Budd, a former colleague of Thurman when she was also in the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. Michael Madsen showing just what a wonderful actor he is. The man oozes sleaze, vulgarity and menace.

6a) The lonely grave of Paula Schultz scene - not for the claustrophobic.

7.) The fight with and demise of Elle Driver in a completely different role for “Mermaid” Darryl Hannah.

8.) The Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei chapter

9.) The pain of Thurman seeing a daughter she assumed dead actually alive

10.)The final showdown with Bill, including the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart technique.

These films are straight into my Top Ten of all time great movies………….now which film are they going to displace?

Later, DeadlyViperJack

Stop moaning

After reading a few blogs and articles in the papers it seems some people are questioning the value of the Live 8 concert in Hyde Park etc on July 2nd. Some are saying it won't sort out world poverty, some are saying it's just self publicity for the acts involved, some say that the effort would better used in pressurising governments. I've yet to hear Sir Bob of Geldof actually claim this would be the result, but there is no single act that will sort out the situation afflicting the third world. Farming needs investment, industry needs to develop whilst appeasing the environmentalists and of course the climate needs to change to remove it's contribution to drought and famine as well. I'd argue the single biggest thing Africs could do to sort it's issues as a continent out is to rid itself of despotic, egocentric, self-important, bullying, murdering thug dictators and adopt a democratic model everywhere. They could start by ridding the world of Cunt-Face Robert Mugabe. Christ if anyone needs the "Iraq" treatment it's him, but of course he doesn't have a lake of oil under his land that we know of. We can turn a blind eye to ill educated black farmers ignorant of what is required to make the land productive again having snatched it from White farmers who had up until then made a decent fist of feeding Zimbabwe and...........stop Jack before you get too angry. No doubt someone will say that was racist which it WASN'T! But you get my drift. Africa has problems that can be solved internally and with external help, and if this concert raises awareness just in 1/100th of the worlds current blase population then surely it's worth doing.

Sir Bob isn't claiming that this will be the panacea for Africa's ills. But what the fuck is wrong with having a big fuck off concert in the summer to help highlight the cause and give people something to remember and enjoy? Why all the bleeding heart/hand-wringing stuff over the rights or wrongs of it? Why are people objecting to this? For fucks sake, go out, buy the Live Aid DVD, get a few beers and enjoy yourselves and see just how unifying that experience was for those there and those who watched at home/in the pub. A note for the cynics - take the plugs out of your arses and let your fucking hair down for once.

Oh yeah, and just because it isn't full of indie bands, world music bands or hiphop/dance/garage etc doesn't mean it isn't cool. I kind of thought the acts crossed all spectrums, or is "live" music the sole preserve of the young, groovy rave-going /ecstasy crazed generation. A few of us old fuckers can still show the "yoof" a thing or two about enjoying a gig, and having a social conscience. After all Sir Bob is my generation and we actually got off our arses and did something with Live Aid whilst having a good time , which is more than anybody before or since ever did! Some people might think we should all be wearing sandals and hair shirts in order to show our solidarity with the poor, but get real, life ain't like that and it never will be.

Oh yeah, if Sir Bob were running for PM, I'd fucking vote for him!

Later, GrocerJack

The Definition of Irony......

.........is that today I learned that The Officer is coming to work for me. Oh joy! But the best and most bizarre bit is this....

The mobile rings with the tender tones of "Enter Sandman"...........

Sandman : Hello Jack, hows the Chelsea Superfan these days?

Jack thinks : Fuck off you ignorant bastard
Jack says : Hi Sandman, very good thanks. Bit bored now the seasons over.....

Sandman : Yeah...well anyway can you talk? (he's done the "friendly boss " chit chat bit by now)

Jack thinks : Fuck, I was just going to knock a quick one out (Jack is home alone this week as GMD, Teenager and Baby are off to Tenerife)
Jack says : Of course Sandman, always got time to talk to you (yep, vomit now)

Sandman : Has Stumbler talked about your additional role yet?

Jack thinks : he tried to but couldn't get the fucking words out in understandable English
Jack says : Sort of....it wasn't very clearly said and he did say you'd call and explain....

Sandman : Well, we think your the ideal person to run a Process Creation and Improvement program.......your team seems the natural fit. Anyway The Officer is a process expert, you know Six Sigma, IDEF Zero, ETOM, ITIL etc......so we'll slide him into your area....but......

Jack thinks : You're having a laugh aren't you.......why did I answer the phone....surely a wank would have been more enjoyable
Jack says : Oh right, OK....yeah I'm sure his input will be invaluable.......

Sandman : Good, I knew you'd be OK - (at this point he might as well be sliding his cock out my arse having ejected this load of steaming jism inside me) - But there is one thing....I need you to keep a close tab on The Officer and make sure he delivers what you need. Watch him closely.

Jack thinks : What does you fucking mean by that?
Jack says : Sure Sandman, any particular reason to worry?

Sandman : Well, you know what the practical side of stuff is and what it takes to deliver - (high praise indeed) - but well....have you met The Officer?

Jack thinks : Yes, he won't fucking leave me alone the boring cunt. What is he some sort of nonce? Is he a frustrated gay man looking to convert someone straight or something?
Jack says : Yeah, decent bloke if a little difficult to understand....

Sandman : Exactly. He is a propeller headed anorak cunt of the first order living in some sort of process driven cloud cuckoo land and frankly I can't fathom out a fucking word he means half the time - so I need someone with a ....big....personality to keep him in check and get some fucking value from him. £1200 per day he costs us.....


Jack thinks : Blimey, I thought he was your .....bitch. £1200 per day - Jesus, who's the mug now? So, I get the twat fobbed off onto me, thanks you fucking shitneck, thanks for fuck all again. Want to fuck me anywhere else?
Jack says : No problem, I know what you mean, leave it to me. Thanks for the opportunity

Sandman : Yeah...I knew you'd be the right person to handle this. Must dash.

Phone goes dead.........the deed is done......the package delivered....the vinegar stroke has been reached. Sandman is sated.

And that my friends is indicative of my working life. But this does potentially enrich the writing inspiration because this bloke is unbe-fucking-lievable and should, in conjunction with Stumbler keep lining them up for to knock over. Inside I'm laughing......no really.........honestly....I'm hysterical.

A bit like Inspector Dreyfuss whenever Clouseau was around.....

Later, GrocerJack

I'd do this after I'd speared and shot the little motherfucker. Then I'd set fire to him and his creators and anyone stupid enough to buy the single and use the ringtone. Later FrogKillerJack 

Oh...if only......keep praying...Later, GrocerJack 

I'll pull the fucking trigger. And then I'll keep firing into its fuicking corpse until all thats left is some shredded frog fibre. Even this is too good for it. Later GrocerJack 

Pass the Dutchie.....

Well in this case the baton - a blogging community idea which some decry, but I'm just chuffed to do because someone has read my inane drivel. Thanks to Watski for passing it over. It's just a list of 5 things varied things, so here goes......

5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order)

Nothing Compares to U - Sinead O Connor : A song to rip your heart out and to bring every emotion to the surface. Tip - think of someone you love, play the song, imagine they were gone. Get a hankie ready.....

It's a Miracle - Roger Waters : Haunting, nelodic and a real dig at a society we inhabit, it's shallow values, it's consumerism, it's increasing globalism, it's lack of compassion. Sarcastic music at 's very best. Paul Weller eat your heart out.

Bank Robber - The Clash : You see when punks were shouting and screaming and revelling in their tunelessness, a group came from that movement that knew the importance of melody and meaningful lyrics and how to get a message over. A rock/reggae mix which crossed ethnic, age and genre boundaries - a fucking classic.

White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane : Way back in 1967 before they became a Starship this was the anthem of druggie influenced hippy rock. If any song encapsulated the liberation of the 60's youth and their defiance of authority then this was it (yeah...Ok amongst others, but this is my favourite).

Teenage Wasteland - The Who : As Baldrick might describe it, this was their "magnificent octopus" - a song about the dashed hopes and desires we all seem to suffer as spotty, pubescent, suddenly aware mutations called teenagers. I know because I'm re-living this through my own Teenager.

So no new songs then, maybe thats an indication of age, or the fact that to keep my interest they still have to be interesting after 10 or more years.

The last 5 films I watched

Donnie Darko : See blogs passim. Weird, impenetratable, dark, surreal, funny and compelling. Still waiting for the second viewing.

Schindlers List : A film never to tire of. A classic in the truest sense of the world. Fail to be moved by the ending and you have no heart and no soul. You are the undead.

Dr Strangelove : I first saw this 3 years ago on an OU Arts summer school. How did I go through life missing this Kubrick masterpiece, and superb satire on the Cold War?

Bridget Jones - Edge of Reason : Not as good as the first but a harmless way to spend an evening.

Outbreak : There was simply nothing else on Sunday night.


5 TV programmes I never miss

Doctor Who : Brilliant , and the recently finished two parter was as creepy as anything on TV and definitely king of the pile. It was so scary it couldn't have helped the bedwetting fraternity much.

Holby City : How many stories can you run about a hospital? Limitless it seems as the human condition, both physical and mental has so many variants. Always well written, always human, always entertaining. Just a little more humour please?

Question Time : Nothing, but nothing raises the radical left wing tub thumping socialist in me as listening to pompous preening politicians and academics talk bollocks so far removed from what affects me and what I care about. Aside from Chelsea losing nothing threatens the condition of my TV's health and general operation like this.

Match of the Day : A ritual for me, wherever I am. My life since the seasons end now has a huge hole in it on Saturdays at 10.30.

Have I Got News For You? 17 years old and still going strong. Still bitingly funny and irreverent.

I hereby now pass the baton to Crox, Shelley, Bedshaped, Mick and errr........Mick

Later, GrocerJack

Another What The Fuck email……….

Every now and then I get the odd gem of an email sent to me, and I like to share these with you. I received the one below this morning as a courtesy copy to The Stumbler and do I understand what the fuck it’s about? Errr…..do I fuck!

The guy who sent this is a nice chap on first meeting, but then you realise this sort of gobbledygook bollocks is his whole life. This is a man who applies process to his weekly Tesco shop, or applies techniques to parking his car, walking his dog and for all I know bashing one out when his wife is out (and yes, you all do the same thing, women as well as men so don’t deny it). This guy is ex-military, officer class and now he thinks I’m his mate so he keeps sidling up to my desk for discrete little chats. The problem is, the chats are all about the sort of shite written below, or they’re anecdotes of his experiences at various “blue-chips”. Unfortunately for me, they not even funny anecdotes, let alone interesting. I shall call him The Officer for want of a better nickname, just in case I receive any more bollocks like this.

Hi Stumbler

Following this AM meeting I agree it would be a good idea to apply some of the Six Sigma thinking and tools to the Change Management process and use this as an C&T case study.

In this circumstance I suggest we do not use the "classical" Six Sigma DMAIC process which is fundamentally flawed. Six Sigma and the DMAIC process assume the problems, processes and customers are known. Plus process date is either available or can be readily captured/measured.

I suggest we should utilise some of the Systems Engineering/Soft Systems thinking ideas around requirements capture and the diagnosis of messy problems.

If you like, adopt a "pre DMAIC” phase to scope problem context, identify all the actors/players, understand the scope and boundaries of the problem and identify what we can and cannot influence. At present we are essentially dealing with an unbounded messy problem

This can be followed by an Analysis Phase applied to the current ("AS IS") CM process and modus operandi.

I suggest the following steps.

1 Map the E2E process utilising IDEF (0) notation - this could be turned into a "swim lane " model to indicate process flow across organisational units

IDEF 0 can used as the basis for "SIPOC" documentation with the process controls identified (Six Sigma SIPOC does not include process controls or feedback loop we need to be able to understand the feedback loops and "emergent properties" around the process interactions

2 Carryout FMECA analyses for each process step

3 If possible build a simple Cost of Quality model also identifying the costs of the Consequences of process failure and the cost of the root causes of process failure. I suspect we will only be able to get approximate data and costs (yellow and red box models)

4 Identify the CTQs (Critical to Quality ) must do an extension of

5 build a very simple QFD model (demonstrator)

6 use the above diagnosis and analysis as inputs into Jack’s CM strategy document.

Thoughts?

The Officer

I know exactly what my thoughts are, but in anything other than this blog they’d be unprintable.

Later, GrocerJack

As if! Later, GrocerJack 

My thoughts exactly, Later GrocerJack 

A Pox on Mondays....

Is there one redeeming feature about Mondays? I can't think of a single one. I never sleep well on Sunday nights because no matter how hard I fight it, my mind slips into corporate arse-lick mode as I start to ponder the "challenges" (aka shite jobs) that The Sandman et al will push my way. The Bespectacled Guru has already asked me to drill down on his new SMART objectives and to provide "input to group status". Wow-fucking-wee, I can hardly contain my excitement. Also, his nickname is too long, so for now I shall be cruel and name him after another very obvious attribute - The Stumbler. Yep, he can't speak without stumbling over words. Everything is along the lines of "Ahhh..Jack...ummmm......aaaah...right.......yes......let's see......can you...........aaaaaah......ummmmmmm......aaaaaaahhhh......"

I think you get the picture.

He is NOT a stammerer, just some one with a technically brilliant mind who, as is a familiar trait amongst the clever, stumbles over the simplest of normal sentences. It must be something to do with a cluttered mind. The problem for me is I am bursting at the seams to complete his sentences. In fact I did just that today, but think I got away with it. Am I the only one with this urge? Its like when you talk to someone with a squint, I always have an urge to move from side to side to ensure at least one of their eyes can see me. The other thing with squints is that when I look at people with this condition, especially if bad then my eyes water, as if coming out in sympathy with the mal-adjusted set staring back at me. Eventually I end up with a squint from looking at them - I wonder if their eyes become straight and its some form of self rectification system built into eyes?

Anyway, I digress, Mondays are an arse day unless they are Bank Holidays. I need to think of something I can associate to Mondays that might make them attractive enough to make an effort in anything I do instead of the lethargic and sloth-like attitude I currently have.

One more thing - my glands under my jaw have swollen up again. And for 6 days now, my mouth has felt permanently ...dry. Almost like a few layers of skin have been taken away from inside it.

Monday Disease perhaps?

Later, Grocerjack

Blurred reality......

The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings had its bi-annual off-site today. Typically, for The Company and errr...The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings, the off-site was on-site. I need to determine whether or not if we have an on-site day, whether it'll actually be on-site or whether it'll be off-site, perhaps at a local hotel.

The last off-site was also on-site, as was the last Change Managers Forum off-site. In fact that off-site was less than 100 yards from my desk. I guess they should really be called virtual off-site's but I always thought the idea of an off-site was to remove you from the day to day distractions of being on-site. Unfortunately in both these recent "virtual" off-sites I have been collared by The Sandman or The Mysterious M as if I was actually on-site. Which of course I was, physically.

Of course you can't say to someone on-site that you can't talk to them or help them as they get a rather bemused, not to say occasionally angry look about them when you tell them you're unable to talk because in effect you're not actually theredue to being off-site. The inevitable conversation ensues regarding their view that as you are physically standing in front of them, or sat trying to eat lunch that you are, in fact, actually on-site. Arguments then ensue about physical presence and virtual absence. I usually end up putting across the philosophical argument that in fact until existentialism is proven, the possibility remains that in fact none of us exist and that we are all the subject of the imagination of an evil genius. Or perhaps no-one exists except the owner of the mind and as yet we cannot categorically associate the mind as being the inevitable consequence of the physical body, or the body as being a necessary vessel to contain the mind. Until someone returns with the "Cogito ergo sum" (I think therefore I am) argument so eloquently devised by Descartes (but not without its detractors) its an argument only I can win. But that's because most people I work with are fuckwits unable to lift their tawdry lives above the philosophical arguments posed by The Sun each day.

Of course, another winning end game is "Fuck off you cretin, can't you see I'm at lunch?" but this is rarely used anywhere today in a society that believes the culture of interruption is the behavioural norm, and that no-ones time is their own. Believe me, no-ones time is their own.

Maybe I'm mad but the object looks well and truly defeated when this off-site actually occurs on-site, and is therefore a virtual off-site. In fact, if I were the object, I'm not sure I'd even start the battle.

Later , GrocerJack

Death is too good.....

....for the evil, vindictive, sadistic, greedy, immoral fuckers who devised the "Crazy Frog" ringtone and then decided to advertise it at every opportunity on every channel. And now what? Yep, the fickers have jazzed it up by mixing it with the theme from Beverly Hills Cop. Cunts. Furthermore, the two "cute" little chicks ringtone is just as pernicious and annoying. Undoubtedly these wankers who are devising and marketing this craze have no compassion or soul or morals. I want to stamp on the crazy fucking frog and shoot the "cute" chicks from the sky. In fact if ever there was an advert for more battery farmed eggs then these little shits are it.

When will people learn that crazy is a euphemism for "sad and lonely", and cute is a euphemism for "mentally retarded".

Except when "cute" is applied to Jennifer Aniston's arse.

And "crazy" is applied to Boris Johnson.

Later, GrocerJack

Confused......

I finally sat down and watched the highly rated "Donnie Darko" last night.

Confused? You bet your arse. One of those films I need to watch again to even begin to understand what it was about. What I do know is that despite not understanding it anywhere near fully, I did find it compelling and not a little disturbing. And that interests me and challenges me. I am the type who generally goes for linear films with simple stories and a beginning, middle and end. My all time favourite film ever "Pulp Fiction" shattered my own illusions about what I really enjoy, with its non linear timeline and crossover stories. The fact is that I still like the simple stuff, but equally enjoy the weird or offbeat stuff as well. Donnie Darko fits firmly in both those categories.

I need to go and lie down in a darkened room to work out what I think I just watched.

Later, GrocerJack

Fighting Talk.....

He is simply the most obnoxious, self centred, pig ignorant MP this country has ever seen. he is a shite constituency MP because he is too busy involving himself in the affairs of Iraq or wherever takes his fancy. He pissed most of the UK off with his constant apparent consorting with the murderous butcher Saddam Hussein. He is proud of ousting on of the only black woman MP's from her seat in Bethnal Green and Bow. He formed his party, Respect, in order to rally the anti-war vote. Personally I dislike both him and his politics, especially his faux-socialist policies and his pro-life/anti-abortion views. Plus, he is an absolute misery guts with no apparent sense of humour.

But whatever you or I think of George Galloway , you cannot deny that he is news, and he is utterly committed to his views. I watched in absolute fascination as he single handedly took on the US Senate yesterday and left both Senators Coleman and Levin (pro-war, anti - respectively) absolutely floundering at his attack on the US government, its policies and US companies trading in Iraq. His attack on Rumsfeld was frankly fucking superb, outlining brilliantly that he had visted Saddam as many times as Rumsfeld, but HADN'T sold him guns and maps "the better with which to target his guns".

The yanks are obviously not use to this level of open and honest polticial discussion, but to me it showed the best of adversarial and argumentative British politics, even with one of the single most dislikeable people we have in government. Watch the highlights on the BBC web site here and marvel at his complete and utter intransigence when being asked questions by the two senators.

Also, try downloading or listening to the excellent 5 Live Fighting Talk election special. The BBC (again showing real licence value for money) let you download certain shows to your PC, or MP3 player for subsequent listening. Fighting Talk, hosted by the increasingly funny Christian O' Connell is now required listening in the Jack household each Saturday morning. Its worth downloading last weeks normal edition as well, both are laugh out loud funny...as the rest of my office discovered yesterday as I laughed loud and long at both.

Later GrocerJack

Of course I was WFH.....

WFH - an acronym for "working from home". So fucked off am I at the moment with the corpoaret goobledygook bollocks talk at work, and the continuous shafting of myself and oters like me I decided to take the fuckers for everything I can get. Nothing against The Company per se, more a way of cocking a snook at The Sandman et al for their piss poor management of people and lack of commonsense or intelligence.

I work for The Muppets @.

So, on Monday I "worked from home".

Of course this would be on a planet where "working from home" means playing golf with mates in a competition and then going for a slap up meal in the evening.

Childish and puerile it may be, and in the league of rebellious actions it might be small fry, but it's my own small rebellion against the people who manage a part of my life....badly.

Later, TigerJack

A Touch of Reality....

Kylie Minogue's cancer has genuinely shocked me. I'm no great fan of her work, although Can't Get You Out of My Head must feature as one of the all time great pure pop songs - I must do a list of great pure pop songs. I liked her flirtation with King Miseryguts, Nick Cave a few years ago. A brave move decried by her fans but appreciated by the likes of me who was only too happy to see someone challenge themselves. At 36, and frankly looking fantastic she is very young to cop this bastard and my mind wanders back to the shock of hearing about Caron Keating's sad death. But Kylie is undoubtedly fit and presumably healthy in every other aspect, plus they have discovered this very early. It doesn't guarantee a successful conclusion but it will enhance her chances of survival. Even a cynical old bastard like me, who abhores the current celebrity culture can feel genuine shock and dismay at this news and I hope she will recover, as I would any other person being diagnosed with this shitbag disease.

Maybe, just maybe the world of obsessive faux celebrity might just realise that sometimes there are more important things than being pictured in the "right" place/with the "right" person/supporting the "right" cause in order to enhance their mostly talentless capability and plastic credibility.

I won't hold my breath waiting though.

Later, GrocerJack

Doctor Who (again).....

How fucking brilliant was this weeks one? Blimey, it bought a tear to my eye with a distinctly "Railway Children" moment in it. Fan-fucking-tastic. An what a star Billie piper is turning out to be.

Later, GrocerJack

Live by the sword.....

Ho hum - Manchester United have been bought by a ginger bespectacled "tycoon". And by all accounts the fans aren't very happy, all the way from the celeb fans to humble working class people who pay their money each week to watch their heroes in the alleged Theatre of Dreams (although after we thumped them 3-1 the other night on their own hallowed turf, I expect the Theatre of Nightmares was better suited to the place).

I am a football fan at heart and understand its place in local communities precisely. I understand the sense of local pride the teams can generate and their ability to bond communities together to watch their heroes take on the world. Or their neighbouring club - bragging rights is a powerful concept and you always like to feel that your on the winning side. Its very tribal, and hence the passion of the fans is not matched by ANY other sport. Not Rugby (no matter how much they protest, a union/league club game does not generate the atmosphere of a Conference league football game) , nor cricket, nor F1, not basketball, baseball or anything. Its a fact, accept it.

What I find amusing about this is that the bleating fans of this institution have happily sat back over the ensuing years since this club decided to expand way beyond the local community and it's real fans and prostitute itself to the pimp that is the Stock Market. Oh yes, they were only too happy that the club would reap the benefits of shareholders money in order to finance its push into Eastern markets, to grow its global fan base, to make it a global brand. To conquer the world.

Oh how they smiled as the money rolled in, the players signed up, the trophies weighed the cabinet down. But the price was already becoming obvious. The real fans found their ground invaded by the "Glory Hunters" - fans from far off places seduced by the global brand, and the power of this rich whore's sporting success. Munching on their prawn sandwiches and polluting the rich north western accent with Estuary English. The club sold its soul to the devil of capitalism, and whilst the short term gains were success, admiration, a growing international fan base and kudos, that avenue of hedonism has finally delivered the bill.

As with any Satanic deal there is a sting, a forfeit, a payback. Today for Manchester United the tiger of capitalism and the stock market they once rode with bareback abandon has turned and bit them as Malcolm Glazer finally wrests control of the club from its amalgam of former owners. You see that's the price of being a public limited company. You become vulnerable to any rich megalomaniac or benefactor that sees the business sense of owning you. Glazer isn't a fan, he has no emotional investment in the club. He sees a money making opportunity and a chance to expand an empire. He has the sons to take over the business when the clogs finally pop, and like any good Caesar he has named his successor (his son Joel).

And now the fans whinge. They cry about being sold out buy the board. Errr...yes exactly, very succinctly put. They chant "United Not for Sale"...errr...but it was. They burn season tickets to prove their loyalty (surely that can't be next seasons tickets can it....because that just shows stupidity and too much cash free) and now some are threatening to form a "new United" built on the values that have taken this 125 year old institution to where it is now. Oh, so you'll float it eventually will you, walk away with tons of cash and sit back when a Yankee egg chaser, big peanut hugging club "tycoon/supremo/ cheese" comes in and asset strips you.

The level of hypocrisy is astounding. I don't actually recall Shareholders United ever going on TV or Radio and declaring their ultimate goal to turn the club into a fans co-operative. I don't recall any howls of objection when the "public offering" was made available, but I did hear the clamour of "real fans" running to buy shares in their club and share in the success by making a few quid. I have friends who are fans, and very nice people they are as well but even they must admit that you can't have it both ways, take the Stock Market cash, but become invulnerable to any form of takeover. You see we all know that when you walk down Flotation Avenue, turn into Stock Market Listing Street, take a right into Shareholder Cash Close, past GloryHunter Towers, through Global Brand Park, you inevitably end up in Takeover Grove. Next stop - Asset Stripped Gardens.

And don't even start comparing this to my beloved Chelsea. Football fans are irrational. I like Roman Abramovich. I like his money. I don't fucking care how he got it, no-one can prove he is guilty of anything other than opportunism. Name me one multi-billionaire who hasn't exploited people or resources ruthlessly at some point. You don't get filthy rich by being nice. Chelsea don't compare to this, because we never whinged when we were on the verge of bankruptcy through the 70's and just before Roman took over. No-one gave a shit about us when we played in a decrepit, crumbling old ground. No-one cared when we won fuck all. What we hear now said about is nothing but the politics of envy. Ken Bates floated us on AIM, which is bit like asking a vagrant to give you money for a cup of tea. We are now a rich mans plaything and long may it continue. After 33 years of pain, I now follow a successful team (not before time). A team I supported when we were playing teams like Carlisle in front of 8000 fans. I am NOT a glory hunter. We now have them as well, and good luck to them, but if Roman dies or sells we are a private club with no debt and the Glory Hunter contribution can disappear as quickly as it came. .

A telling point here. I have been to several last home games. At Chelsea the players do a lap of appreciation irrespective of our seasons standings in league or cups. At each one of these the fans have stayed and cheered and supported. Its a celebration no matter what. On Tuesday night after Manchester United had suffered yet another clinical surgical dissection by a London club (Arsenal have already done them 3 times this season) the Manchester United players did the same thing, a lap of appreciation/honour. Only the difference was that the stadium was near empty as disconsolate glory hunters departed to join those who had fucked off 20 minutes before the game had finished. It is estimated that about 7000 remained. In a 70,000 seater stadium, its a bit like being the only one in rock concert by U2. I actually sympathized with the United players, who seemed united in their abject misery. Whatever is going wrong at United the fans should look elsewhere than Glazer and company, Something rotten set in years ago. Alex Ferguson, as magnanimous as he was to us on Tuesday must be bemused as to what's gone wrong, both with his expensively gathered group of players (who cost over twice as much as the 11 we played against them on Tuesday night) and the Manchester United machine in general.

So, in summary. Am I sorry for the fans? Only those genuine ones who maybe railed against the flotation. Those who grew up around the club and live and breathe Manchester United. When you look hard only 2000 turned up to protest last night. This morning on 5Live, their reporter stated that she'd only seen 3 protestors arrive by 8 'o' clock and then they'd gone away. Maybe that says it all about the realistic levels of indignation allegedly being spouted from this city. But for the rest, well I'm afraid you reap what you sow and the Board, the gloryhunters, the accountants and the marketing people can only stand by and hope that this doesn't mean the end.

As a Chelsea fan who has had to put up with the crowing and arrogance of this club and its celeb fans, ex-players and gloryhunter contingent over the last 10 years the truth is I couldn't give a flying fuck what happens to the club. I have a feeling its new American benefactor may attach the same level of compassion as well.

Later, ChelseaJack

Fancy that

Funny, today and yesterday The Sandman has decided I was suddenly indispensable. Hypocritical bastard. One day I'm not quite the right level for him, the next I'm the Dogs Bollocks.

Why is this?

Because he's had his fat fucking arse kicked from above because The Company's Pipes, Tubes and Strings have suffered a few issues lately, and our beloved (sic!) customers are whinging. Whats new there then? Personally I think customers are ungrateful fuckers, who want everything now and to pay fuck all for it. We strive to provide something close, but when "service" is affected well, you kind of get what you pay for you fucking morons.

So last night at ten past fucking ten I got a call from the two faced bastard.

"Jack, how you doing mate?"
"Fine Sandman, just fine" Jack says ("Fuck off you fat shitbag" Jack thinks)
"Bet you're happy about Chelsea then huh? What ateam, what a season!"
"Yeah, pretty good. Never thought \I'd see it personally" Jack says ("You know fuck all about football so shut the fuck up" Jack thinks)
"Yeah, Come on The Blues.....anyway...." (Yeah, lay it on you slimy wanker" Jack thinks)
".........We have a few issues and I need you to pull some info together for a report I'm producing to act as a defence"
"Oh right, sounds serious, you know me, Ill do what I can" Jack says ("Christ, you coward" Jack thinks)
"Cool, I knew I could rely on you. Never let me down have you Jack? Good bloke Jack"
"Ok, give me the details then Sandman" Jack says ("Fuck me, why not ring your arse with Vaseline and bend over for the bastard, you cowardly twat" Jack thinks)

I won't bore you with the details but effectively I've just done a 14 hour day in front of a screen, getting statistics together, manipulating data, benchmarking trends, forecasting futures blah blah blah. Yep, in fact I've allowed myself to be metaphorically roasted by Sandman and The Bespectacled Guru. All because I'm a coward. Too cowardly to tell them how I feel. Too cowardly to tell them what I think, of them, the job and The Company. Too cowardly because I need their filth laden lucre each month. Too cowardly because I don't know how to do anything else. Too cowardly because GMD would remove some vital organs (that only men have) if I did do something and lose my job/walk out.

But then i think to myself that all of this shite pays for 3 holidays per year, a decent-ish car, golf, football, beers down The Pub and all of my other indulgences. Is it worth it? Who knows, but for the meantime I'll milk every fucking penny I can from the bastards, and I'll smile as they take it in turns to penetrate me with the Corporate Cock, safe in the knowledge that one day, none of this will matter.

Later, GrocerJack

Shafted again......

So, I know I said I just wanted to keep my head down at work and not attract any attention. That way I could bumble through the next 12 years until I'm 55 and with any luck The Company would then decide I was surplus to requirements and let me have early retirement. Of course , my hypocrisy where work is concerned has been well documented on this site (the future of which I am considering simply because my anonymity has been lost and therefore my freedom to write and say what I really want has been compromised) as I veer between Corporate Arse-licker and covert rebel.

An identity crisis I think its called. But, in my case it seems mixed in with a mid-life crisis. Who am I then? The rebel who doesn't give a shit or the arse-licker who secretly wants to get on and "develop" his career? The blog writer who wonders why his hit rate is not what it was, or the blog writer who doesn't care about "ratings" and writes in order to preserve his sanity in a dull and corporate, soundbite, homogenised, risk averse world of work?

Yesterday, the Mysterious M, a man I have grown to like,respect and admire announced he is leaving. Belive me, I never thought I'd work for someone who could make me like, respect and admire them again. The Mysterious M has been promoted to a level 3 role in another part of the Company. So, all the good work I have done is now in the "objective" hands of New Manager, the Bespectacled Guru, and the reason possibly why my work related contentment level has increased is leaving. I feel betrayed, as if The Mysterious M has been disloyal in some way.

And I wasn't even considered. 3 years of Operational shite working under pressure, taking the kickings and the brickbats, delivering exactly what I was asked to against all the odds, rewarded with a fucking planning job which stretched me for....ooooh ....a week back in November perhaps, and further rewarded by that cunt The Sandman with a wave of his hand and "Jack has potential and experience, but I need someone to hit the ground running in this role" bullshit brush off. The rebel wouldn't care, but the other half just thinks What Have I Done That Is So Wrong?

Is it a sulk? You're damn fucking right it is. A big fucking sulk. My fucking sulk. A sulk caused by a simple change at work that has me considering just about every aspect of my life. Christ, is this what happens as you get older? Is it the subconscious realisation that as I get older I have less time to make my mark? Has this simple act of apparently beoing overlooked just stirred those feelings of mortality and lack of fulfillment?

I always recall the lines to The Who's song "Won't Get Fooled Again" ..."Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" a line designed to hit out at how things never change for the better, but in my case all I can hope for is The Bespectacled Guru is the same as the The Mysterious M, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Today is a bad day.

And so I will consider if Grocerjack should resign the commission on this blog and restart everything with the vengeance and frustration on a completely anonymous site. Or perhaps Grocerjack is the good side of my increasingly Jekyll and Hyde character. I may use this site to comment wryly on things, whilst venting the darker stuff elsewhere.

Time to think.

PS - Manchester Utd will tonight form a guard of honour for my beloved Chelsea when we walk out onto their pitch as newly crowned Champions tonight. Bloody Hell, thats the most magnanimous sporting act I've known in football for some time. Hats off to Sir Alex Ferguson then. You've just gone up a few notches in my estimation.

Later, who knows when, Grocerjack

Points of View

It wasn't a goal

We need a striker - Kezman should be selling kebabs at Chelsea not playing for them

Milan will beat Liverpool in the final

Liverpool haven't won anything this season yet - so stop crowing until you do you scouse gobshites

We haven't "bought" the premiership - we've spent the equivalent amount of money as Manure and Airline FC's just in a shorter period of time

Do I care where Abramovich got his wealth? Do I fuck! Are you telling me the owners of the other clubs didn't "exploit" people in some way to get their riches?

Tradition and history count for fuck all - just because your past is glorious does not give you the right to a glorious future, nor do you have any divine right to win trophies

Mourinho is arrogant - nothing wrong with that as long as you're right - and he is most of the time

Everyone else is just fucking jealous

The Tories will lose the election

Michael Howard DOES have "something of the night" about him

Labour will win with a reduced majority (around 50)

Robert Kilroy-Silk - why, just fucking why?

Because a labour vote is lost where I live I will vote for Lib Dem - plus she's a babe which is a bonus (yes, I know its shallow but thats what comes of being a member of the GoGB)

I will update the rules of the GoGB shortly

WMD or no WMD the war was justified. Saddam is a cunt and needed to be removed. Otherwise we have learnt nothing from the Holocaust or WWII

Hasn't America been quiet about our election - or is it that they just don't know we exist?

Give Question Time to Paxman - Dimbleby is too slow and polite.

If several thousand IBM employees lose their jobs as looks likely - will the government set up a similar aid package as they gave to MG Rover (what do you think?)

Sky News - is it me or could this be called The Sun TV?

ITV Sport - just fuck off and leave sport to those who genuinely can cover it.

Later, GrocerJack

The Review – Doctor Who episode 6 - “Dalek”

Well, I know I’ve been harping on about this for a few weeks now, but the truth is that if you’ve missed this series in favour of anything other than fantastic sex, bloody good booze up or because your TV has packed up then you’re a twat. If you’re bored by Doctor Who (or at least by my comments on it) then fuck off and read another blog.

(Jack waits while the fools who are bored go and read something less/more interesting)

This weekend saw the 6^th episode in the continually high quality, well written return of this iconic TV series. Like a lot of people I am often dubious about the merits of re-vamping old TV series, but in this case the scope for imaginative and compelling storylines was always massive. I described the series as iconic, and within the series there are probably a handful of iconic villains – the Cybermen, the Ice Warriors, the Silurians and The Master spring to mind, but none are as iconic or as popular as The Daleks. Ever since their first airing back in the days of the first Doctor (?) played by the now deceased William Hartnell these metal machines of death and hatred have always been a welcome part of each series, and in some cases have positively been the saviours of the series in terms of ratings.

So, on Saturday we had a single episode simply titled “Dalek”. The premise of the story was that the Doctor’s TARDIS is pulled off track by a distress signal into a former nuclear bunker in Utah. They are 53 levels below the surface allegedly, lending credence to growing view that the TARDIS is an organic and distinctly maverick “time horse” that goes where it wants. Sometimes the Doctor is the rider, and sometimes he merely hangs onto the reigns as it bolts off to wherever it fancies. Anyway, the bunker is a museum of alien artefacts (including the arm of a Slitheen from Episodes 4 and 5, and the head of a Cyberman) bought and displayed by Henry Van Statten, a megalomaniac entrepreneur who owns the internet, and uses his endless wealth to determine who is President and to invent cures for the common cold and withhold it. He has, of course, one living specimen, and this turns out to be a Dalek. The Dalek has fallen from the last great Time War and is being tortured by drills etc in order to please its “owner” by talking.

The first scene with the Doctor was chilling and superb, with the Dalek becoming aware of its mortal enemy in the same (locked) room. The Doctor is patently petrified by his nemesis and tries to get out of the room, but the Dalek is “impotent”, its weapon does not work because of its depleted state of life. Some cracking acting from Eccleston ensues with superb dialogue between the mutual enemies, joy from the Doctor when he realises the Dalek’s impotence followed by his taunting of the captive hate machine of stories of how he destroyed the Dalek Empire, with his own race, presumably for what he believed would be the greater good. He then tries to kill this last Dalek, but is pulled from the room by Van Stattens henchmen as he tries to preserve his exhibit. I will not relate the whole story suffice to say the Dalek escapes thanks to Rose, rejuvenates courtesy of the US National Grid, downloads the whole internet, and then proceeds to negotiate stairs and kill 200 people with stunning ease before undergoing an identity crisis and questions it existence.

The Dalek upgrade from the BBC is wonderful, a real mean chunky beast with armour impervious to any human weaponry, computing power vaster than the sum of anything on Earth combined and seperate swivelling head and torso, giving it a mini-tank like action. What they have also added is its ability to logically reason and plan the most effective death policy with no hysteria or screaming its intentions. This Dalek no longer resorts to just hysterical hate filled screaming, this Dalek plans and thinks. It takes its time. Its chilling cry of “Exterminate” is still there, but the scene where it is taunted about its lack of stair climbing ability becomes chilling when it swivels its eye and ponders for a second, before simply stating “Elevate”. The view then switched to the Dalek eye view used throughout the episode (very nice touch) as it slowly ascends the staircase in pursuit of its prey. Other nice touches were the new deadly use of the sucker to kill someone by shrinking their head, and the use of it to calculate a combination code to break an electronic lock in 2 seconds.

But the story itself was made by the superb script, and the excellent dialogue between the Dalek and the Doctor, between the Dalek and Rose, and a fantastic moment of realisation by the Doctor on his feelings for Rose, highlighted to him ironically by The Dalek. At one point the Dalek actually says to the Doctor “You would make a good Dalek” and the horror of this truth etched on the Doctors face was superbly portrayed by Eccleston, an actor who in this one episode bought more gravitas to the Doctor than any predecessor. Another scene where Rose believes she is about to die, but absolves the Doctor was both powerful and emotional. Billie Piper is an actress with a very big future in my view. The story had an ending which actually made you feel sad for the Dalek as it realised its lonely existence, and its changing feelings on its existence as it mutated from Roses DNA. This was in any context a very dark episode, but worthy of high praise indeed from being both well written and well acted, to superbly filmed in very convincing surroundings.

If you missed it then you missed a genuine TV treat. Once again the BBC have justified every penny of the licence fee by producing good drama that can be genuinely watched by the family, although no doubt some younger children would have been massively frightened by the Dalek. Cue the complaints form the moronic bleeding heart, sandal wearing, leaflet distributing shitneck parents with fuck all better to do than complain about the potential long term psychological damage to little James and Arabella OakTreeLemonGrass.

Wankers.

Marks out of Ten though for this episode, the Beeb and everyone involved?

Ten!

Later, GrocerJack

The Pro's and Cons of ........Car Sharing

Pro's -

It saves you money
It saves wear and tear on the car
It saves you parking
It saves the environment
It saves you from stress because CarSharer can take the flak on alternate days
You can catch up on sleep - because you can kip when CarSharer drives
You can text on your mobile when CarSharer drives
You can play games on your mobile
You can daydream on the way to work
You can plan your day
You can switch off
You can letch at the young women in other cars or walking down the road without fear of crashing your car

Cons

It makes you late - because CarSharer is "not a morning person" and is always late
You do not control the vehicle
You cannot deliberately drive through puddles fast
You cannot choose the music
You have to listen to his "ambient " shite bollocks wank crap music played at almost zero volume
You cannot listen to 5Live - you have to listen to PowerFM aka FunkDanceHiphopBoyBandGirlBandManufacturedTossAren't we zanyAren't we coolAren't we YOUNGFM - at almost zero volume
You cannot control the volume
You cannot leave on time
You cannot leave early
You have to leave early
You have to leave late
You cannot fart
You cannot pick your nose
You cannot letch out loud because he is either a.) gay...b.) mummys boy or c.) PC
You can't eat a whole bag of wine gums to yourself

I'll stick with it though because I'm a fucking tightwad.

And I'm skint

Later, SharerJack

10 days of bedlam......

As I have stated before, this period of the year is badly planned on my part. Especially in light of my new found role at work as a planner. In the space of 10 days I have

GMD's birthday - now completed with no major issues but severe money spent

Baby's birthday - now completed, large amount of money spent, party over for kids and adults (both expensive), damage limitation to bank account now in progress. Of course she really is no longer a Baby. She is now in double figures, a proud achievement for her, a momeny of fleeting sadness for me as she inches inexorably towards another phase of her life when wonderment stops and cynicism starts.

Wedding Anniversary - today! We are going for a meal at lunchtime in the pub, so it'll cost around £40. We have mutually agreed that in the best interests of our bank account and our combined desire not to have bailiffs visiting us we will forego cards, flowers and prezzies. This is especially relevant being as her birthday flowers are still fresh, and the fact that her prezzies are still new this makes even more sense, and the fact that cards are just another mechanism for grabbing money from pockets to keep card companies cash flow running seems eminently. Plus I wrote Happy Anniversary on her birthday card this morning and re-presented it makes things OK. Surely?

Teenagers birthday - this is next week, the money has been spent on prezzies, plus a day out for her and her friends (snotty-arse boys included) at Thorpe Park. She becomes a real Teenager oon this date, with even more attitude, more brainless mind wandering, more crap music and more statements such as "I didn't know" , "I didn't hear you" , "Why are you so mean?" "Leave me alone (accompanied by slamming of bedroom door)" , " Can I have some money?" , "Can I have more money?" "Dad, can you fix this?" and of course the two stalwarts of her conversation ...."So what" and "Whatever". Oh deep joy.

This then sees an end to a part of the year when barely recovered from Christmas, along comes a load of other genuine events, to sit alongside manufactured ones such as Easter, Valentines Day and Mothers Day, as well as a couple of Bank Holidays all designed to part me, personally, from my hard earned cash.

I am a cash cow, nothing more, nothing less. A device for bringing in money for others to spend with barely any for me. If I want something new, we can't afford it. If they want something new then they only have 4 months after Christmas to wait, although they rarely do. In fact most times they go out to the shops, they come back with more clothes, more make-up, more accessories and unbelievably....more fucking shoes. What is it with women and shoes? What is the fascination with footwear. I have 2 pairs of shoes, one pair for work, one pair for the pub....ohh and a pair for golf. You can count my footwear in pairs on one hand. You can't count the amount they have each on two hands and two feet!

And I'm supposed to keep smiling?

Later, SkintJack

An oddly warm welcome back......

"You are The Doctor - You will be exterminated.......nothing can prevent the Daleks from victory" ....words that put the fear of God into every Who fan as a kid .Yes, a very warm welcome back this week to the nemesis of Doctor Who and 40-something fans of the series who remember these evil fuckers the first time round. One of the things with nostalgia is the warm feeling you get from the things that both frightened and fascinated you as a kid. I look back at these preposterous pepperpots and think how scary they were, with that electronic but brilliantly cold and emotionless voice barking orders, making statements of pure logic and yet built in hate (they were designed to use logic by Davros thier creator, but in some way or another it is projected as the emotion of hatred) or screeching their war cry of "Exterminate". Yup, as a kid you didn't worry about the obvious difficulty they would have with stairs, after all they did not become an evil universal force of death and domination without overcoming uneven terrains, nor did you worry about the most obvious disablement in throwing a blanket or jumper over the heads. After all that would be too easy. You didn't question this because they were so fearsome and merciless, and all they wanted to do was conquer and kill.

In the old Doctor Who series too often they were done away with a bit too easily by blankets, or conventional human weaponry, but apparently the updated one as pictured above is a meaner, chunkier version with none of those weaknesses. Even more so it's a killing machine with no compassion or mercy. Great, I can't wait for this. This episode only contains a single, not yet updated, but undoubtedly pissed off Dalek being held captive by a billionaire artefacts collector in Utah. But this will link to the denouement of this excellent return series, called Parting of the Ways (in 2 parts, so expect a cliffhanger) which sees an all out battle with the Daleks, which according to the series producer, the seemingly imperious and increasingly TV god-like Russell T Davies, can "fly like bastards". More congrats to the BBC as well for the Doctor Who web site, where a veritable smorgasbord of videos, clips, pictures and additional stuff can be found. Check it out - its quality and shows they really have put some fantastic effort into reproducing this fabulous series for the 21st century..

Later, getting the sofa ready to be hidden behind, DavrosJack