The Wedding

After the first major event of September, the dreaded post holiday return to work failed to be as dreaded as expected……….I am considering that this may be because a degree of demob happiness has set in despite the new role potentially being at risk of an outsourcing contract, in a work area I know very little about and with a team of people who I barely know the next even was The Wedding of my middle brother Skank to my new Sister-in-law (hereinafter referred to as ScouseSis to reflect her origin of Liverpool).

Skank has carefully avoided the institution of marriage with a high degree of skill, despite living with someone for nigh on 10 years and having twin girls with her, seemingly preferring to wander down Bachelor Avenue for the rest of his life, or to leave his ….ahem….options open. Then 4 years ago he meets ScouseSis in, of all places, an airport departure lounge. ScouseSis had separated from her first husband who it appears is not a very nice person and Skank had finally decided to call it a day with his ex-partner, affectionately known as Shell. Sometimes good things just end and his relationship with Shell had run its natural course.

ScouseSis had seen an ad for a small independent holiday company called “Small Families” specialising in single parents with children who wanted to go abroad in a pressure free environment without getting caned for supplements and other punitive top up payments. Skank had also seen this advert and decided to take his twin girls away for a short break. Seriously, they then met in the airport lounge by virtue of having identical “Small Families” luggage tags. The rest as they say is history.

Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy decides to have a crack at girl, girl decides boy isn’t too bad, boy perseveres, girl plays along, kids like each other, boy decides to see girl all holiday, girls agrees, girl agrees to see boy after holiday ( a notorious pivot point as most of us never bothered after the holiday romance), boy really likes girl and calls her after holiday, girls agrees to continue seeing boy, boy falls for girl, girls falls for boy, boy asks girl to move in, girl agrees, boy and girl decide to buy new house, boy asks girl to marry him, girls agrees. Boy marries girl. Everyone has a party. Everyone gets drunk. Marvellous.

I made a small speech as best man, which I’m rather happy to report seemed to go down rather well. Hopefully just the right amount of humour, mild humiliation and genuine schmaltzy sincerity allowed the Father of the bride to say his piece which was a tad more serious, but none the less heartfelt. The lack of band or disco music meant that people had to talk to each other from different families, a ploy which worked superbly despite the vast majority being part of my Chelsea heritage’s sworn Nemesis of Liverpool Reds. I had wondered if Crowthorne’s dog population would suffer severe trauma as the level of high pitched Scouse whining reached fever pitch and sent them crazy, but the truth is they were very happy Scousers who seemed to enjoy the banter and chat equally as much as us. The nice fact that Skank invited all of GMD’s family to be on his “family” side was rather touching as well. I know they all appreciated that and fully enjoyed the evening as well.

Some other points to note…….when ScouseSis’s daughter, aged 8, stood up at the ceremony and made a speech, there weren’t many, including me, who weren’t fighting back a tear or two. What’s that about? So, as I get older I’m saddled alongside my inherent grumpiness with an inability to control emotional displays as well? Crikey, a miserable old goat who can’t fight back a tear at a sweet little girl making a very touching speech? How unfair is that?

Also noteworthy was the appearance of Dave, my estranged youngest brother. As stated before, estranged through no other reason than he is unreliable and seemingly lazy. He’s 39 now and a bit heavier and wrinkled than I remember. It was good to see him though and quite emotional at times after nearly 10 years of absence. His new girlfriend Nurse Ratchett has agreed willingly to ensure such absences are a thing of the past. After 5 years of non-smoking the 3 of us stood outside the hotel at midnight and indulged in a Victory dance cigar to seal both the union of Skank and ScouseSis, and the secondary re-union of jack, Skank and Dave.

And in typical fashion the night was ended by the Manager of the Hotel asking us to go to bed at around 01:30 after an incident involving Dave and LittleSis going behind the bar and helping themselves to a bottle of wine! A nice little bit of controversy to finish on and one for which they will be ribbed forever on!

If you measure the success of an evening by the size and power of the resultant hangover then it was a stunningly successful evening.

Well done Skank. Well done ScouseSis.

Later, GrocerJack

....but a lot of French things are better......

1.) The food in restaurants and cafe's - what can I say except that I have never had a poor meal anywhere in France. I've had poor service in France by my own inflated UK standards, but never a poor meal. In the UK I've had wonderful service and been served with barely enough food to feed an aneroxic 4 year old. I've had crap service and been served "art on a plate" pretentious bollocks food. I've been in UK restaurants where I've been force fed crap in order to make way for a second sitting. Wherever we have eaten in France we have seen the sense of pride the chef has in producing something thats tasty and uncomplicated, and the proprietor has always made us feel that the table was ours for the whole night. Vive le Difference!

2.) The food in the shops - A French supermarket is quite different to ours. They do have frozen food sections, but these usually consist of one or two aisles, whereby the fresh food aisles outnumber them by several counts to one. The French think nothing of shopping daily and buying local fresh produce. It isn't a chore to them, its a pleasure and an obligation. Its part of their very fabric and culture. In the Hyper-U in Agde (the closest major supermarket) you could not buy any fresh fruit or veg that wasn't "en saison". Not for the French the idea of flying strawberries across the world, nor do the French see the value in summer satsumas. Cherries.....hmmm...not a chance. Nope, if it isn't in the growing season you can't get it. We bought all of ours from the site shop, the old man in the vineyard opposite the "holiday parc" or from the local markets. We did the same for meat after the initial supermarket shop. The meat is sublime, superb cuts that sizzle on the barbecue and smell like they use to when you were a kid. The cucumber was the size of a marrow, curved, light green and get this....it tasted like cucumber and NOT water. Ditto this for Radishes ......when was the last time you ate one that bit back like they should? Onions that make you cry when you chop them and also when you eat them, tomatoes of different shapes and sizes that literally burst with flavour when you eat them, grapes (with seeds) and plums that transport you back to the 60's when your Mum bought them as a treat and and industrial growing practices were a twinkle in an agro-scientists eye. And lettuce with mud on it that doesn't need to be kept in the fridge until its almost a block of ice in order to be edible. And don't even get me on the wonderful cheeses for sale in the markets thats MADE LOCALLY and smells like old socks and tastes like proper cheese should.

Fan-fucking-tastic. We have moved a long way from this type of fayre in the UK and we're all the poorer for it.

3.) Cycling - near enough every French road has a cycle path marked on it. The pavements have optional cycle routes. Cycling along the Canal du Midi is accepted and even welcomed by anglers and walkers. Every village, town and city has communal bike racks. The drivers always give a wide berth no matter how fast the road might be. Even little Yappie the Dog gets to ride quite often in the owners basket. Like the Dutch, the French have embraced cycling as a perfectly normal means of getting about, whilst jolly old UK lurches towards the American travel dream of no pavements and everything being reached by car, no matter how close. remember the scene in Toy Story 2 where the "villain" toy collector leaves his apartment , drives to work which is his own toy shop dead opposite where he lives! Thats truer than you think in the US. We bought 3 bikes for GMD and the girls having transported an old jalopy of mine out there. We paid around £300 for them, each were good quality, each were tested vigorously before we could buy them by a polite Frenchman who knew all about bikes - unlike the spotty 17 year old Halfords fuckwits. Again a different culture and one we could (and may be just starting to) learn from.

4.) Wine - at E1.60 a litre from the vineyard opposite, how wrong can you go? Alright it wasn't vintage, but it was nice, light and eminently drinkable and sold without any fuss by the same guy who sold us our fruit and veg. All with a smile. And a taster glass. No pretentiousness, no faux-academic bollocks talk, no snobbery, no frills. No problem.

5.) The Roads, specifically the Motorways - yes...I know they appear in the previous list....but the truth is there is no road system in the world that has been capacity planned for the holiday rush. The Peage in France are reasonably priced, are models of efficiency at the toll booth, have automated systems which recognise the coins you throw in, or can read a card in a split second. Even the manned ones are adorned by polite staff who always welcome you with a "bonjour" or bid you "au revoir". Can you really see that happening here? Road pricing may seem an abomination here but thats only because we know it would be exorbitant and penalise those who could least afford it. It might not be perfect, but it seems to work better than ours. And the roads don't melt when the mercury hits 30 degrees!

5.) The weather - In the South at least you can't argue that the climate is just that bit more reliable than ours. It rains enough to keep it green, and the mistral wind blows warm during summer and keeps the humidity at bay after a day of 30 plus temperatures. Not really a French attribute I know...but then they live there...and we don't. Let's hope we didn't choose first!

6.) Markets - we're getting there on this front, but the French see markets as a vital part of the local economy and again something at the heart of their society. I only like the food bits, although the odd piece of summer hippy jewellery, or the odd pair of cheap sunglasses have been known to come my way via the markets in France. Before our first visit in 1998 we would have died before buying food in any market. But then we saw the locals buying .....sorry...trying and then buying. Since then we have enjoyed so much of the experience of true shopping, of trying before we buy, of savouring the tastes and smells that when we arrive we may as well be Monsieur et Madame Epicierjacques!

7.)The Boulangerie, the Patisserie, the Boucherie and the Pharmacie. High streets with real shops not just Estate agents, Pound shops and Building societies. Supermarkets exist and play a vital part, but not at the expense of the "local shop for local people" (and tourists!). It's amazing just how much more you can get over the counters in France that you need a prescription for.

8.) Cold soft drinks - kept in a proper cold fridge which is turned on and run at a proper low temperature, where the drinks are rotated properly so that new warmer cans are at the back and the colder ones at the front, unlike the tight-fisted fuckers over here who seem to have fridge light on but nothing else, and then just lob the cans in how they like so that you have to scrape your arm and twist it impossibly to reach the only semi-chilled can shoved right at the back.

9.) The Euro - are they any less French because of it? No of course not.....its just money thats all, not the national identity. Perhaps thats why we reject it, because we've lost so much of our own national identity* that we are desperate to hang onto nay little thing we believe might preserve what little identity we have left.

* England only.

In France, as in most of Europe they simply got on with it. So, while they move freely around drawing out money from ATM's without paying commission, paying by credit cards for meals without a conversion fee,we happily lie down and let the banks legitimately take more money from us. And we have the nerve to call them "Cheese eating surrender monkeys"? When it came to the Euro, we ran the white flag up the pole ages ago because we're too scared of change. Imagine if we'd adopted that view in 1971 when we decimalised the money system. Are there seriously any people out there pining for "pounds, shillings and pence"? Ditto the undeniably easier Decimal system for weights and measures. Christ , my kids barely use miles, inches, pounds or ounces, but yet the Little Britisher brigade insist we keep this archaic, complex and anachronistic system in every day use. Land of Dope and Moron indeed.

10.) Satellite navigation- well the Trafficmaster bit at least. Over here the TM signal is carried on one station, Classic FM. If you're driving through a weak reception area then you're buggered. In France there are a multitude of carriers all broadcasting the TM news on a higher power output. Wherever you go the Sat-nav gets traffic info and warns you most of the time before you hit it. How can they do this, and we apparently can't?

There is so much more that in my view puts them ahead of us, but really its isn't meant to be an anti-UK diatribe, more a comment on how Americanisation and maybe even globalisation and our apparent desire for multi-culturalism has somehow allowed us to lose attributes as a people and nation, that once rivalled France , but that we somehow allowed to slip away.

Later, Grocerjack

PS - ooops..

11.) I forgot coffee. No really...order a Starbucks skinnylatte decaf with a fucking twist if thats what you want you corporate ars-licking city slicking lightweight ponce. But if you want to be a real man or woman, then drink real coffee. Order it in a Cafe in France and then sit back, switch off the pacemaker and get ready for a real caffeine kick. Its so lovely I could almost buy a packet if Disque Bleu or Gauloises to accompany it.

Not everything French is better......

1.) Local French roads are the maddest thing ever. The French seem quite happy to spend hour after hour whiling away time in local traffic jams on the N and D roads (the equivalent to our A/B roads) when there are perfectly acceptable old roads that will get you there quicker by virtue of being empty. They have a definite herd mentality.

2.) Bar service is frankly appalling. In Spain a waiter will whisk his or her way over to you, take an order, whizz it back and then give you an option to pay then or later. In France its a case of get to the bar you lazy bastard (like we do in jolly old Angleterre of course), or eventually a waiter may wander over after finishing his Gauloises and chatting on his phone, take your order with a 50% chance of getting it right and then take the money on delivery. I thought "manana" was a Spanish thing, but the French seem to do it with a more laissez-faire attitude if thats possible.

3.) Rap - if you thought the centre of world rap was new York, think again. This appalling drivel fits the French language perfectly and there is barely a radio station or car full of French "yooves" that isn't pumping this bollocks out all day and night. Oh yeah, and the french youth, unlike its UK counterpart, hasn't worked out that driving down the road pumping out bollocks music with the windows down makes you like like pricks and not like fanny magnets.

4.) French motorways - a weird one this because they will also feature in the things the French do well. For the first 2 or 3 Saturdays of August France adopts a collective holiday madness whereby the North departs to the South. How the country doesn't tip up I don't know. Anyway, the point is this, the motorways which function excellently all year round suddenly clag up and the exits/entrances are to blame. Some of the peage points have 50 toll booths spread across the road, but at holiday time they have to deal with thousands and thousands of cars, manned by idiots who don't have the right money or are completely incapable of using an automated debit/credit card system which takes around 7 seconds if you're prepared....peage ticket in, debit card in, press receipt button, drive away.....just how fucking hard is that?. Its a bottleneck and there's no way round*

*Unless you have Sat-nav with Trafficmaster....in which case my advice is learn to trust the bloody thing and not ignore the polite woman who says "there is stationary traffic on your route", kindly works out a detour which you then ignore and then silently fume over for 2 hours! It was a lesson I learnt very quickly and now Sally (as my Sat-nav is affectionately known) rules the cockpit. Her advice is unswervingly right every time even if some re-routes require a leap of faith.

5.) French signposting - a complete and utter fucking waste of time. Utterly untrustworthy, utterly confusing and mostly utterly missing.

6.) French children, from baby through toddler until about 8 years old - noisy, screaming, shouting annoying little bastards who despite the lack of E numbers in their diet seem to be on a permanent sugar rush. And yes, I am getting old but the days when a screaming nipper filled me with delight went out the window the day that Baby grew up.

7.) Dog shit - a plague upon France for her peoples total acceptance of dog shit on grass verges and some pavements. Now I know some ignorant gits in the Uk are the same, but in some towns and cities, despite valiant efforts by the local Mairie office to supply turd-bags on lamp posts there is a mentality that says its OK to allow their frankly annoying yappie little Fou-Fou's and Fi-Fi's to lay a steamy whipper wherever it fancies and leave it there until SOME UNSUSPECTING HAPPY TOURIST WEARING LONG BAGGY TRENDY JEANS WITH HIS FAVOURITE TRAINERS STEPS INTO IT AND DOES THE RIGHT FOOTED DEATH SLIDE AND TRIES TO MAINTAIN BALANCE WITH DIGNITY WHILST NOT ENDING UP SITTING IN THE PILE WHICH QUITE FRANKLY SEEMS BIGGER THAN THE FUCKING YAPPIE LITTLE KOREAN DELICACY THAT LAID IT!

Oh yeah, one was even laid on the grass verge outside The Money Pit as well....good job I never caught them because I'm not sure how a Stamford Bridge kiss would help the "entente cordiale" when combined with their dog being thrown on my red hot barbecue coals.

However, when one compares this to some of the good things then maybe the good outweighs the bad. Coming next..........

Later, Grocerjack

Je retourne!

Bonjour , one and all. EpicierJacque est retournee!

That was fucking lovely to be a bit blunt. 3 weeks of rest and relaxation under the warm Mediterranean sun (well most of the time anyway). Big events are heading my way during this month and so lets list a few below.

1.) The Premiership : Yes, I know its already started, and that the Mighty Blues have stuttered slightly with an unexpected defeat to Middlesbrough, but for me the season only really starts on my return form my annual holiday, hence for it started yesterday with our 2-0 demolition of Blackburn "kick everyone in the air" Rovers.

2.) Return to work : Yes, the big event that normally kicks off the PHD (Post Holiday Depression). I've been reading emails since I went via the nuisance device called Blackberry and all I can say is thank fuck I'm moving to a different area. All I've seen is bollocks about how well we've met the KPI's, how we must get our 07/08 budget forecasts in by the end of August, and how we must improve our weekly reporting withing The Schoolteachers area. Can my new boss (Provisionally titled The Scream as he bears an uncanny resemblance to Edvard Munch's masterpiece) be any more pernickety and deadly dull than The Schoolteacher? Yep, anything is possible but he would be hard pushed to be quite so fucking pedantic and controlling.

3.) Orthondontics : Hmm..... for the last 6 months (yes, 6 months) I have been walking round with a gob full of metal on my top 6 front teeth. The has been via a "spring" like fixed brace, recently replaced by a fixed wire brace. Alongside this I have had to wear a sort of prostethic rubber brace to cover my lower teeth whilst eating, and a removable "space brace" all of the rest of the time. Yes, of course I've cheated and taken the removeable one out, especially when down the pub, after all who wants to sound like a stroke victim crossed with a deaf person? Thats what the removable one does. Anyway, this month apparently I have the first session to have the "full fixed appliance" fitted. Its done over 4 appointments apparently, each at 90 minutes in length. I also have to stump up the remaining £2272.02 at the same time. So, if they're fitting the "full fixed appliance" what the fuck has been stuck to my top 6 front teeth since April?

4.) Start my new job: September the 18th is the day. The way I see it is this....either I'll be as happy as Larry (who he?) and the role will springboard me to one final grade promotion and the consequent barrowload of money and extra perks, or it'll be more of the same, or it'll be an unmitigated disaster and I'll be outsourced to some shite slave driving bunch of cash stealing, liberty removing, automaton corporate crooks. Either way it'll push me down an avenue of decision about my own furute one way or another. And, weirdly that uncertainty is slight exciting. Maybe its the spark I need to pull yself out of my now self imposed silently rebellious rut. My first impression of my new team is that they are a bunch of piss taking bastards with a penchant for free drinks and gambling. Sounds promising.

4.) The BIGGEST thing of course is my brother Skank gets married this Friday. Its only taken him 42 years to find the right woman and God knows he's "road tested" a few in his time. We're not having a stag do as I think this might form part of the reception and besides he is trying to keep everything low key. Not because he's tight, but because like GMD and me, he wants to make the day about them, and not the guests. Our wedding was in a registry office (second time round for both of us) with the reception held in the local village pub and then back at our house. It was far more intimate and memorable than any huge sprawl and the lack of a disco or band meant people actually had to speak to each other (shock...horror). I know this is what he has planned. I am of course the Best Man (of sorts) and this means a speech I assume. Last night before my return to work I couldn't sleep and lay there mulling over my speech. It was funny, followed by funny, with a bit of moving , some more funny and then the toast. Of course I didn't write it down because iIwas in bed trying to get to sleep, but the mind was working at 100mph. Do you think I can remember a single thing to talk about? Of course not! So the next few days will be notes written on Post-Its as hopefully the speech points come dribbling back.

Next post...things I like about France and things I don't!

Later, GrocerJack

Off to The Money Pit

Its been busy at work hence the lack of writing, especially as I prepare my "exit strategy" for The Schoolteacher.....his words not mine. But today is the day I try to recoup some of the wedge lashed out on The Money Pit by actually spending some substantial time there. So for the next 3 and a bit weeks I'm in the (hopefully) sunny South of France....the car is cleaned and polished, the sat nav is primed, the bike is on the back, the boot is packed........but best of all GMD will drive to the port tonight so that I can have a few beers to mark the departure of The Governor from my local to pastures new.

The picture shows the pub in its glory and this is the passing of an era. The Governor and his wife have over the years built an atmosphere within the pub that one can only describe as typically English. The loudest noise you hear is the drone of people chatting and laughing with clinking glasses in the back ground. The building itself helps to make what is ostensibly a proper real English pub, but The Governor built the clientele, created the sense of community in the pub and hence the friendly and welcoming environment that is my local and we are all going to miss him and the lovely Governors Wife (who's cried every time we've left lately). They are off to a pub about 5 miles up the road and it remains to be seen if the pub retains its current clientele, but for sure we will be visiting the new place and keeping in regular touch. Fullers took the pub over when Gales sold their souls to them but it is only fair that the replacements are given the chance to prove themselves as worthy of our custom.

Have a nice time. Don't get me wrong but I hope the weather is foul here for the next 3 weeks......it just makes me feel better about being on hols.

Au Revoir, EpicierJacques

Is it just me......

.....or is this one of the most pointless photo's someone's ever likely to take?

Thanks to The Grand Master for the pic.

Later, GrocerJack

You wait 2 years and then along come 2 at once....

Cast your minds back about 2 and a half years. That’s how long I’ve been writing this blog. Well it may not be quite that long but it certainly seems longer at times. Especially those periods of creative drought, a feature which has occurred more to me lately than the number of times the sun has shone over MediocreBritain*.

Anyway, the blog was started as a means of filling in the large amounts of time given to me by The Sandman after he had kindly moved me into a Change Management role for The Company. During the following 2 or so years the role developed into a Team Management one, incorporating Process Modelling and mapping, Change Management, System Tools and Planning. All in all a cushy number, but not one that challenged me overtly. See…I’m yawning now just writing it…and you’re probably yawning now just reading it. Despite my best efforts to gain a job elsewhere it seemed I was stuck firmly in the Land Of The Middle Manager earning a good salary, with good benefits for doing comparatively fuck all. Safe, secure but ultimately mind numbingly dull would describe it best. I couldn’t carry on with this because I need more to challenge me, or else the creativity just drops away as brain cells die off due to lack of use and redundancy.

Then came an “initiative” at work to “raise the bar” on Change Management….all of which seemed geared to my ITIL manager qualifications and sponsored by The Beach Babe herself. I’m not inspired by many Managers, but The Beach Babe…an iron fist in a velvet glove…. is certainly someone special. She knows my name, my football team and the fact that I have a gob full of metal straightening my tombstone like teeth. And that’s a real change. A real personal touch is such a welcome change in this increasingly bland Corporate head-giving environment. So, I decide to pitch directly to her for a role running Change Management across the whole of the “networky” bit of The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department. The Schoolteacher did not like this one bit and saw this as a breach of protocol, but The Beach Babe replied warmly and genuinely and referred me to the person setting up this role and to whom I would be reporting , a guy I will simply call The Bristolian. The Bristolian talks in a really strong Bristol accent and always dresses in a t-shirt and combats with trainers. Not your normal Senior Manager by a long shot. I arranged to talk and meet with him…..but weeks previously to this, when The Shepherd was still in place (prior to his unceremonious ejection by The Beach Babe) I had applied for another job within The Company in the “servicey” side of The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department. Out of the blue a few weeks ago I was asked for an interview and attended last week for the role of Service Reporting Manager – a quite customer facing role, one level up from where I am now, with a demanding and driven but clear manager and a brand new team in an area I know very little about!

Hmmmm…but what about the role with The Bristolian. Well, unbeknownst to me he had decided to place it within one of his existing teams meaning that if I was given the role or won it I would be on the same level as I am now with no gain, except perhaps the chance to shine in a slightly different role with a slightly farther ranging remit. But there were no guarantees the role would be mine, even if they were allowed to map me into it, the chances are HR would force them into advertising it internally and then I’m up against others…and well who knows….someone might come along and blow me out of the water. I just don’t trust my luck enough to take a gamble on a role that is only “proposed” at the moment.

Well, you guessed it….. I actually got offered the other role and since Wednesday of last week have been in the allegedly “nice” dilemma over being wanted for 2 roles. For me it wasn’t “nice”…a dilemma is a dilemma, full stop. After a lot of soul searching, talking with GMD and others I respect…including my old cohort Private Godfrey I was still unsure…but of all people The Schoolteacher gave me the one question to tip the balance. He said “how much do you want to be pigeonholed in Change management?” For the whole weekend I’ve thought about how the strange and unknown role would benefit me, and how the one I pitched at The Beach Babe for would show my strengths and increase the breadth of my knowledge and experience and The Schoolteachers one piercing question, one simple pointed question that revealed new layers of doubt and ambition was the one that tipped the balance.

Today I have become restless, daring and risky…. I’ve held my breath and jumped off the precipice for a base jump of unknown proportions….I’ve shoved my head over the parapet without a tin hat….thrown the dice and accepted the role with the “servicey” side of The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department. I will pitch for a pay rise although as its up 1 level but within the same pay band this is a long shot.

I wonder if I can still cut it? Time to find out………

Later GrocerButcherBakerCandleStickMakerJack

*Great to see a stunning year for the English/British in sports though isn’t it? Dismal performances by England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland in Rugby Union, by MediocreBritain in Rugby league, the rubbish served upon us by the English cricket team, the pile of steaming turd that was the England football team during the World Cup, the turgid Tim Henman pumping his weedy little fist at Wimbledon, Andy Murray whinging about his growing pains and now the golfers failing to put on a single challenge to American domination at The Open.

Land of Hope and Glory? Land of Dope and Moron more like.

Psycho Neighbour Update

Ok so its only a matter of time before I let you all see the blackmail letter I received from NuttyBollocks (the new name for the psycho next door), but I just want to see how the land lies a little longer, and whether the CPS decide to charge the twat with a criminal offence. Failing that I will then be alerting Social Services to the issue as I believe that if he’s NOT criminal (as p[otentially decided by the CPS) for the letter he wrote me, and the people the other side of him, then he’s mentally ill and I want him committed!

What I do know is qwe haven't seen sight nor sound from him or his equally batty wife since this occurred. This means that the playgound bully has fucked with the wrong person and won't try it again...or he's planning somehting even more vile for us. No doubt he's watching our every move, but he isn't clever enough to set us up for a fall.

He's just a vindictive, bullying, mental, sad deluded old man who can't cope with society moving on past him and leaving him and his shrivelled mousey prune of a wife behind.

Watch this space for developments

Later GrocerJack

The Stupid Brits

Listen, I know I could be writing and banging on about some of the more serious world events. I could launch a stream of invective against the seemingly increasing terrorist state of Israel as it indiscriminately shells and bombs Lebanon without any regard for civilian life. Even knowing the traumatic past of the Jewish people and the turbulent history of Israel doesn't seem to justify their current actions. Surely they could have adopted a different approach to what happened. If you're surrounded by people who hate you then wouldn't some serious charm offensives be more .......productive? I could have a pop against the stupidly serial basket cases of Hezbollah for their own stupidity in continuing to annoy "the wasp" of the Middle East by sanctioning the kidnap of Israeli soldiers, but to me this also seems obvious. Israel is richer and has more firepower....so why pick a fight with someone who will constantly beat the living crap out of you?

But I won't. Instead I want to comment on how apparently stupid and helpless we are (again) as a nation in UK PLC. We're having some lovely weather this year...not before time in my view. But what do we get from The Nanny Government and its associated agencies (including the BBC and several other commercial organizations)? A never ending stream of patronizing tips and advice on how to cope with the heat. Do they think we've never encountered this before? Didn't something similar happen last year, and every bloody year since I can remember? Do we really need a production line of radio presenters, weather forecasters, news readers, link people, journalists, knobber tabloid hacks and general bleeding hearts and artistes telling us to "cover up" or "use plenty of sunscreen" or "stay indoors" etc ...ad infinitum? Can we really not be trusted to act with some caution without constantly being patronized in this way?

Personally I love the heat, and if I wasn't stuck in this bloody god-forsaken office then I would be on a beach or by a pool or on a golf course lapping it up. Have people forgotten just how miserable winter is in the UK, with darkness falling early or constant rainfall ruining outdoor plans, or even the hideously cold weather we encountered from December through until February and even march to a degree? And what about the constant scaremongering that's now being added.

Apparently our railways tracks are buckling! Hmmm....Spain, France, Italy etc all seem to "suffer" this weather every year and apparently have much superior engineering capabilities to us because they don't suffer from bucking rails.

Our roads are melting! Huh? Is it just me or is this a WTF moment? 3 years ago I drove to the South of France during their record breaking heatwave. At 80mph on the Peage my car recorded a temperature of 47 degrees. Was the road melting....apparently not because somehow or another the French have mastered the art of constructing "all-weather" road surfaces!

Electricity could be in short supply! Blame the heatwave! Honestly, on BBC Radio 5 Live yesterday they ran an item on how the Electricity Supply Industry has cut back on capacity for the summer ( a normal practice that allows maintenance to power stations) but that because of the heat we might be in danger of exhausting capacity. Come on...how many people do you know with air-con in their homes? And surely those workplaces with it use it constantly all year round. And again, how do the warmer climes of Europe...and the world cope with apparent extremes of heat without issuing dire warnings over energy supplies.

Water! Need I say more. Water companies leak millions of gallons/litres per day through poor investment in infrastructure and cost cutting on maintenance, but somehow, we the domestic consumer are the culprits for the shortage. Arid Britain, an island surrounded by water apparently on the verge of drought. Anyone think this might be linked to privatized water companies, and the increasing value of a so-called rare commodity and the subsequent increased shareholder value ? Parallels with Oil companies anyone? Fly over Spain and see how many hill and mountain top reservoirs they have built. I'd love to compare that to how many reservoirs have been built in the South of the UK over the last 20 years. Oh, and of course we can't afford de-salination plants because they're not cost effective. Just how much drought do we need for these to be come cost effective then Mr Water Company boss? Or again, is it just the fact that such plants rectify the view that water is an increasingly rare and therefore valuable commodity and therefore cheapen your "product" and affect the value of your company and mean less for greedy cash motivated shareholders. When the GrocerParty gets into power, these will the top of the re-nationalization list. And yes, you and me, the taxpayers will fund reservoirs, de-salination plants and a National Water Grid. Fuck the shareholders, they'll get nothing and serves them right for wanting to make money out of the single biggest contribution to public health ever developed.

Tube trains are cauldrons of body odour and sweat! Ken Livingstone's answer............innovative cooling systems? Investment in air-con, or air blowing technology through tunnels? No.......his answer is that " we may have to close down large sections of the tube for people's own good"! What a load of old bollocks. Where's the inspirational leadership supplying innovative solutions. Even distributing free mineral water would help people keep hydrated. Ensuring the trains keep running and don't sit in tunnels for 20 minutes at a time would help. But no, what we get is a completely negative knee-jerk over-reaction. I like Red Ken, but on this occasion he's acting like a typically bureaucratic fuckwit.

And thus it was so. Great Britain, a country with a reputation founded on leading the industrial revolution, of being at the forefront of Technological revolution and evolution apparently can't cope with a hot summer without infrastructure collapsing in a heap and its citizens running around unable to think for themselves.

Maybe we should consider calling it Mediocre Britain.

Later, SummerJack

Hello again, mes amis!

Aaaah....'tis good to be back indeed.

Is it bollocks!

Still it was a fabulous week away in Spain, where a bunch of middle aged blokes left the cares of the world behind to play golf, drink, eat and sleep. In between there was the odd swim and sunbathe, and the festering remains of the World Cup to watch. Good job there wasn't any letching going on then :-)

I won the overall golf championship and picked up the Champion Golfer trophy for La Cala 2006. It was close though, and after starting round 1 on the Monday on Campo Europa we knew we had incurred a baptism of fire. All of us, barring The Major (now to be known as Lounge Lizard Larry) lost a host of balls by the 3rd hole (I'd lost 5 by this point) and all in all it looked like a frustrating and annoying weeks golf lay ahead. This appears to have been caused by two reasons though

1.) The course was new to all of us, and although I'd paired with Larry and a stranger called Hans (from Finland) we were all suffering. Only when Hans revealed himself as a member did Lounge Lizard Larry and me gain any advantage over the other three. 28 points from round one for me sounds OK, but bear in mind that 12 of those came from the last 4 holes (net par, net eagle, net birdie, net par) and suddenly a measly 16 points becomes a grand (ish) 28. Larry got 30 and won the day. Hans merely regaled us with stories of his drinking and shagging exploits from the previous night. Apparently he was a frequenter of Estart 92, or just Club 92 as its known. Apparently its the best "whorehouse" on the Costa Del Sol and a well known haunt of golfers. Well we've been to La Cala twice before and never heard of it. Still it was Ok because Hans explained he was getting his shagging out of the way as his wife was joining him the following week!

Errr....thats OK then Hans.

2.) We got absolutely battered the night before. We went to Biddy Mulligans in the village Cala de Mijas and basically drunk ourselves silly like the typical Brit abroad.

.......Nah...actually we did it with grace, style and some well observed humour.

And so we faced our duties everyday with unswerving commitment despite the 30 plus degree heat, the fabulous golf courses and the.....ahem...scenery. Dedication indeed.

And I discovered Magners, which made a refreshing change from Guinness which even cold can be hard to describe as refreshing in that heat. The thing is Magners seems to get your legs drunk way before the mind goes, meaning you can bullshit lucent conversation for quite a while, but when you get up to walk to the loo or the bar you end up staggering all over the shop. Weird, but fun.

Now off to think about things to write or comment on.........

Later, GrocerJack.

See Y'All

Lovely!

Bon Nuit, Jacques

Upping the Game.......Raising the Bar

Time to get with the fucking game Jack!

Some quick wins/ideas......

1.) I'm away playing golf from Sunday with my MATES....so no posts for 7 days
2.) My writing suffers because of my nutty neighbour....pourquoi?
3.) I have a 2 week trial of a Sat Nav system to stop the rows with GMD when we go on hols and she HATES the idea.............again................pourqoui?
4.) Thanks LittleSis for the offer of the lift to the airport...I owe you one!
5.) I bought a new Mountain Bike...£450...according to the new Mountain Biking hierarchy (affiliated to the shooting, golfing and fishing community this is SHITE...snobby wankers!....but apparently this is the way of life (post to follow about kit snobbery)
6.) How can one fucking mental idiot fuck so many things in your life?
7.) We might be shit....but maybe we can win this World Cup (*affirming support for the one true team of Chelsea...bugger me Ballack looks fucking good*)
8.) I have made my first ever direct pitch for a "role" at work to a director. Watch this space for failure
9.) My golf is crap............because of Hornblower and my own crapness. Watch this space as Jack (like England) starts slowly but gains form and momentum......
10.) Thanks AGAIN Little Sis for the lift!
11.) Thanks to BigSikes for the biking adventures..........some proper "gripped and sorted" routes
12.) Strings......its the 22nd mate

Have a lovely fucking week my friends. C U soon with a a promise to write more and better stuff......I think!

I promise......as GMD says I should.......*skulks away...suitably chastised*


Later............EspanolJack

PS .....A work of Art follows......

Service Suspended

Remember my story about my nutty neighbour Hornblower? Its here if you care to read it........

I am taking a few days off (maybe) because on Friday evening I received a letter from Hornblower, signed with his own fair hand , demanding large sums of money off of me and members of my family and friends.

Yep, blackmail, you've got it. And so have C.I.D now.

I will tell more when it becomes clear whats happening. In the meantime my bravado, flippancy and incredulousness has now transformed into fear , anger and loathing. Such is the vile nature of the letter I have allowed it to get under my skin and play on some very dark fears.

I'm away on holiday next week. When I return I may well show you all the letter, with names altered to protect the innocent, but until then I don't want to do anything here, anonymously or not which may threaten my families security or harm the police case against this guy.

But the previous article on him might give you a clue as to what I have to live next door to.

Later, WorriedJack

World Cup Week 2

There's a party going on in Germany.

A fiesta of all that is great about the beautiful game.

Fantastic skills are on display, great players strut the pitch like preening peacocks showing their plumage, goals that defy laws of physics are being scored.

The world is having a party that even Iran joined in.

And in the corner, sulking away slowly, moaning about the heat and the noise, and the attention sits England. The party poopers of Europe have turned up to each match so far and displayed a brand of football that belongs on Hackney Marshes. Yes...I know Joe Coles goal was special, as was Gerrards against the might Trinidad & Tobago, as was Beckhams against that footballing monster of Ecuador.

But it ain't pretty. It ain't good to watch. It ain't fun.

Eriksson has made me almost apathetic with his brand of uninspiring and dull football. If we win (and yes I hope we do) then all we can wish for is a players revolt that ignores the fatuos Swede's Italian footballing, reverse lights on tanks mentality brand of football.

Later, GrocerJack

World Cup Week 1

Underwhelming

Hopeless

Witless

Clueless

Shite

Fucking Shite


Which one do I go with? All 3, because yesterdays performance versus the high flying world reknowned superstars of Trinidad & Tobago by pub Team England was an amalgam of all 3 adjectives. As usual John Terry was superb, but the worry has to be an indifferent Joe Cole who keeps drifting into the middle of the field instead of sticking out on the left, with his Captain beckham emulating him perfectly. Maybe Sven has asked Joe to do this but the second substitution in a row implies that Sven, like Mourinho gets fed up with him not creating anything worthwhile. Harsh, maybe? But he's not been anywhere near the Joe Cole I saw at Stamford Bridge last year, or the one who destroyed Uruguay and mesmerised Argentina earlier this year.

As for Frank Lampard , well.....we've seen it so many times at Stamford Bridge this season. He's been well off form since the Barcelona games , with only sporadic displays of excellence. These have been very much the exception and I'm afraid his place may also be under threat. He needs to impose himself on the game, and not keep kowtowing to Beckham with continuous sideways or backwards passes to Gerrard or Beckham. Compare his performance against lowly T&T to Ballacks towering midfield show against Poland and Frank may well worry about his place in the Chelsea first team next season. Oh yeah...and for fucks sake Frank, find those shooting boots and SOON!

Gerrard was mediocre until he scored the goal, so from zero to hero in minutes. Poor Frank must have been gutted to see his chances spurned so casually and then to see Gerrard belt one in with his only attempt all game. For me Carragher was also very weak...seemingly a victim of the player seniority virus that used to affect John Terry when playing alongside Sol Campbell, and affects Frank and Joe because of Beckham. Carragher showed yesterday why Gary Neville is first choice at right back and will be for a couple of more years yet. Beckham might eventually be better off filling the right back role with Carrick holding the midfield and allowing Gerrard and Frank to play more forward.

And Ashley Cole? Best left back in the world? Compared to Germany's Lahm he looks lightweight and hesitant. I know he's only just come back but in both games he has made at least 2 complete howlers and has been bailed out by John Terry or Gerrard both times. As for Rio "watch my hair" Ferdinand, drop him. Never let him near an England shirt again until he learns what the terms "commitment" and "focus" mean. Play Carragher alongside JT for this tournament and then get Ledley King in place. Rio - stay away and allow your better brother to take the stage (we should buy him!).

Owen Hargreaves is crap and contributes nothing to the game when on........unless you count poor passing, anonymity and dire tackling as contributions. Hopeless, and surely the fact that no EPL team has tried to prise him away speaks volumes.

Oh yeah.....I forgot to mention Spiderman crouch. Am I the only one who thinks this is another case of "the Emporers New Clothes"? So he's scored a couiple of goals recently, a (non) hat trick against Jamaica and a couple in previous games to that. Yesterday he was EMBARASSING and CRAP. His touch is average at best, his heading is desperately poor and his goal was the result of some blatant dreadlock tugging........imagine if someone did that to Rio to score against us in the 83rd minute (yes.......I know it would be funny and good because of the pain it would cause Rio, but not whilst on England duty!). As for his attempted semi bicycle kick.....pathetic! Owne may not be firing but he will come good.....Crouch is another Paul Mariner. And he was NEVER and England class player. Its a complete mystery as to how he has hoodwinked the coach, the media , the squad and now the bloody press and some fans! He must have a big collection of photo's of people in compromising positions.

And as for his girlfriend. Gorgeous! Truly a beauty of the highest kind. I mean crouch is only one noth above Luke Chadwick in the looks department. His physique doesn't seem to be the type to drive women wild, and judging by his interviews he is yet another "clone" footballer with a personality bypass in place.

Yes........it must be love mustn't it! And yes, that is nothing more than petty and bitter jealousy on my part.

Other observations are

Germany look bloody good. I don't know why the pundits think they're weak, but their displays so far have been way above ours against arguably harder sides. I hope we avoid them in the next stage because I think we'll be out unless dramatic uplifts in our performance start kicking in now.
Italy also looked good against Ghana, who with Essien majestic in midfield looked classy until the last third when they fell foul of terrible and over-hesitant finishing.

Brazil look like Barcelona, fabulous skilled players but definitely suspect against measured and controlled football. They don't like it up 'em! Croatia can count themselves very unlucky.

Holland look like my favourites at the moment. Robben was sensational and with the talent they can field, with the undoubted wisdom of Van Basten at the helm I can see them moving on with ease. Maybe its their turn.

Argentina and Ivory Coast also look good, but I think the naivety that exists in African football will see Ivory Coast fail to qualify.

Spain also looked good against normally tough opposition in Ukraine, but expect their bottle to go at some point. Ukraine looked hopeless and maybe East European football is undergoing decline....Polands demise might be evidence for this. They played poorly against a bright and rythmic Ecuador, but performed OK against a powerful and driven German team. To be honest though if they hadn't got such an in form 'keeper they would have been further buried by 4 or 5 goals.


I'll stick with either Holland or Argentina to win from my logic side, with my heart desperate for England. For many years I lived under the double weight of huge disappointment being both English and a Chelsea fan. Every year seemed to be a repetitive diet of my hope and promise fireworks being pissed upon by bad luck, poor performances and Tim Henman style choking. Now that 50% of that burden has been relieved by The Mighty Blues all I can hope for is some luck and inspiration driving England on to win. But my gut feeling is that until Sven Fuckwit Eriksson (Mogadon Man) has left the scene and taken his sleep inducing half time speeches, tactical fuuckwittery and unswerving Italian-like faith in defending the one goal lead philosophy with him.

For me, our chances are down to two. Slim and None. And whilst Slim hasn't ridden out of town just yet, he has his horse loaded and packed.

Yippee Kie-Ay Motherfuckers as Bruce Willis once said.

Later GrocerJack

True?

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his own hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's licence in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or significant other!

DANGEROUS:	SAFER:	SAFEST:	ULTRA SAFE:
What's for dinner?	Can I help you with dinner?	Where would you like to go for dinner?	Here, have some chocolate.
Are you wearing that?	Wow, you sure look good in brown!	WOW! Look at you!	Here, have some chocolate
What are you so worked up about?	Could we be overreacting?	Here's my paycheck.	Here, have some chocolate.
Should you be eating that?	You know, there are a lot of apples left.	Can I get you a glass of wine with that?	Here, have some chocolate.
What did you DO all day?	I hope you didn't over-do it today.	I've always loved you in that robe!	Here, have some more chocolate.

13 Things PMS Stands for:

1. Pass My Shotgun

2. Psychotic Mood Shift

3. Perpetual Munching Spree

4. Puffy Mid-Section

5. People Make me Sick

6. Provide Me with Sweets

7. Pardon My Sobbing

8. Pimples May Surface

9. Pass My Sweat pants

10. Pissy Mood Syndrome

11. Plainly; Men Suck

12. Pack My Stuff

and finally

13. Potential Murder Suspect

What next........banning ads for sunscreen?

Well, the Nanny Government strikes again. According to news reports, they are about to ban the advertising of so called "junk food" before the 9pm watershed. Apparently this will transform the health of the nations children overnight. Yes, thats right, by banning the heinous and pornographic images of crisps, fizzy drinks and burgers, our children will miraculously lose weight and become fitter! of course they will!

Just like banning certain books means you never get any political dissenters, banning plays stops people forming opinions on the subject matter and banning TV programmes prevents ideas and bad things influencing people. Remember what happened when they banned "Relax" by Frankie Goes To Hollywood........thats right it went to number 1 and stayed there for weeks, feeding voraciously on the oxygen of publicity the ban provided.

It is , of course utter cobblers. Initiatives like this don't make any immediate impact. Its arguable they make any long term impact. Banning ads for smoking didn't stop people from continuing or even starting. The decline of smoking came from years and years of education on its effects, using the power of fear, bans on where you could smoke, punitive taxes and eventually the momentum of peer pressure into making it an unacceptable habit unless done in complete privacy.

Like most people I enjoy the odd Pepsi, the odd Big Mac or kebab, and even an occasional packet of crisps. Are they that bad? Are they any worse than say....a homemade Steak and Ale Pie, vegetables and Chips as served in my local? Any worse than in nutritional content than some of Gordon Ramseys desserts? What do you class as junk food? How harmful is a Diet Pepsi each day for Baby if she's washing down a salad with it?

You see my point here. What children eat is down to a number of factors, such as location, age, likes and sislikes. It also comes down to parental supervision at appropriate ages, but if a 15 year old is out with friends shopping, how do you control what they eat? Do you ban under-18's from KFC's or MacDonalds? Do you make certain foods illegal? Do you ban burgers, but not steak, or ban KFC breasts but not Lidl Chicken Breasts (which may contain all sorts of growth hormones).
Its a non-argument in my view. Some food are beter for you than others, but surely education should allow people the right to choose whats best for them and their children according to their means?

And if things are so bad with our diet...how comes we're all living that much longer that the Nanny Government wants us to retire later? How comes life expectancy is growing, and still growing? Wouldn't the country be better of if we all popped our clogs earlier?

Another example of Nanny Government knowing whats best for us and legislating without reference. A load of old tripe......unless of course thats banned as well.

And don't even get me started on Crystal Meth!

Later GrocerJack

The REAL Big Day

....is of course here, and it's the World Cup, being held in Germany.

For the next 4 weeks, including the one where I'm on my annual golf holiday to Sunny Espana.

4 weeks of back to back football of the highest quality, with real and genuine drama, interspersed with moments of breathtaking skill and no doubt stultifying boredom will be beamed across the globe into our homes. I for one find this simply the biggest sporting spectacle ever. Forget the Olympics - no one ever chants songs in unison to an individual, nor do the “team sports” ever manage to create the same level of dedication and blind optimism from fans that football does. The Olympics, whilst no doubt occasionally thrilling can never match the drama of a single match played over 90 minutes, maybe 120 or more if extra time or penalties are involved. Even as a neutral for the non-England games its great to pick a team and try to see how they progress. I know for some people it is a kind of quadrennial nightmare, with their precious soaps or gardening programmes rescheduled, or the increase in football widows and widowers but hey, those are most definitely in the minority here. Even the normally apathetic seem to enjoy the whole spectacle and try to embrace the competition for what it is – simply the biggest and most inclusive sporting even on the planet.

And the world should embrace it just beacause its something the Yanks don’t actually control or dominate!

If you don’t like football then its time you grew up and got with the game pal!

So ,here’s a Jack opinion on all of the participating countries involved ….

You’re all shit except England!

Later StGeorgeJack

It's here at last!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Big Day Arrives

Well, it’s finally here at last.

The one we've been waiting for........

After such a long wait, the tension has been building and building.

The drama will unfold before our very eyes.

The modern day God of TV will capture all of the excitement and beam it directly into our homes and hearts......live....as it happens.

Millions of people will wait in anticipation, sat on the edge of their seats, barely able to contain their excitement.

So many starry eyed dream filled hopefuls entered, and so many failed to make the final stages.

Only one can win of course, so even more will have their hopes and dreams dashed. The nation will watch with bated breath just to see who…………………

Wins the Kit Kat draw to enter the Big Brother House!

Later, Couldn’tGiveAShitJack

Its all a bit gay isn't it?

According to more members of PC Bollocks Brigade, Radio 1's Chris "Fatman" Moyles is guilty of being homophobic by his casual use of the word "gay" to describe a dance as a bit rubbish. In fact some PC prick, Tim Lusher, no doubt from Sensitive Souls R Us wrote an article in yesterdays Guardian stating just as much. Apparently Stonewall and the rest of the hand-wringing " lets all love each other" community object to the misappropriation of the word "gay" from meaning homosexual to meaning " a bit crap, a bit second rate, a bit rubbish" .

Well, here's a bit of news PC Bollocks et al. I object just as strenuously to the homosexual community's misappropriation of the word gay from meaning "happy, carefree, jolly" to meaning "homosexual". In a similar vein your reclamation of the word "queer" pisses me off because I was bought up to believe it meant "odd" or "weird" and not what your favoured sexual activities are.

I have no objection to homosexual people. I do not believe it is a lifestyle choice for the majority (because lets face it some people do choose to be a bit wild) and am happy to accept it is an inherent part of their being. I have no objection to their equal billing in society and am glad that Civil Partnerships are now legal and recognised in the UK (although Marriage in the guise of Matrimony is really a holy Roman Catholic sacrament and as such this is the wrong phrase to use) because that is only fair and right. I may not like the adopted "mincing" of parts of the male "gay" community or the equally horrible "butch" dyke Kwik Fit Fitter image some lesbians choose to adopt, but levels of commitment to each other should be recognised equally in law irrespective of the gender of the related parties.

But please, the message to the fudge packers and bean flickers is stop whining about a teenage fad around the use of the word "gay". You stole the word first, now someone else is stealing it from you! It just highlights the rich flexibility of the glorious English language.

Get over it.

Later GrocerJack

Three Cheers

One dead death worshipping evil twisted motherfucker down, lots more to go. Don't speak ill of the dead?

I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad his mates died. I hope all of his followers die.

Painfully.

So, Farewell then Zarqawi. You were the archetypal evil malevolent cunt and with any luck your body is being greased with pork fat, and covered in bacon rashers as I write.

And to all the PC Bollocks Brigade and your undoubted bleeding heart "fair trial" crap.....its plain and simple. He didn't care who he killed , Christian or Muslim. He represented no-one and reigned by fear and terror. He was a twisted evil prick guilty of bringing nothing but pain and misery to people wherever he went.

He DESERVED to die, and DIDN'T deserve any sort of trial, fair or otherwise. Where terrorists are concerned my objection to the death penalty flies out of the window. Especially where the executuon is summary.

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Simple.

Later, SmilingJack

PC PC reporting for duty

What a complete prick this Clive Wolfendale is. Apparently he's some sort of Deputy Chief Constable for North Wales or some such place. When will these people learn that flying the flag of your chosen country is NOT fucking racist unless accompanied by Combat 18/BNP tossers chanting "Blacks Out" or similar? Or if the flag is draped with other blatantly obvious racist slogans.

Unless I'm mistaken, the largest part of the UK (area and population wise) , England, has qualified for the Football World Cup and is the sole representative of the UK. Thats tough for those English haters but hey, life is tough and they just better get used to the fact that in football terms England has been, and probably always will be the most successful nation from the UK.

The English people contribute more to this nations wealth than the others do COMBINED. We (the English) subsidise their education and their health and a whole raft of other economic and socio-political areas of their lives ,whilst they get their own parliaments, with their own votes on their own issues and are encouraged to celebrate their own disitnctive cultures. The minute The English try the same thing, the PC/Bleeding Heart wankers that infest our society come out collectively wringing their sorry hands to denigrate this and to try and make people like me feel guilty for a colonial imperialist past I had fuck all to do with. Blame the father for their sins not their sons. If there's any wringing to be done its normal people who should be wringing the necks of the PC Bollocks brigade.

In my experience the English "culture" has been washed away over the years by PC Bollocks and his ilk. Yes, we're a diverse multi-cultural society and the richer for that (mostly), but underneath Englishness still seems to be treated as the UK's dirtly little secret. Something to be locked away and hidden and not discussed for fear of inciting poor sensitive Scots/Welsh and Northern Irish.

Lets get this straight....England is part of the UK as much as any of the others , but constitutionally is not treated on anywhere near an equal footing. That needs to change or else its just plain discrimination against the English people and that will lead to further disgruntlement and in fact plays right into the hands of the BNP and the far right. Whenever I've been to Wales or Scotland (NI is still an aspiration) I am incessantly subjected to their Welshness or Scottishness from the moment I cross the border, be it with Welsh dragons and leek symbols, or various tartan decorated signs or whatever. I like this , and welcome it and have no reason to resent it. I certainly don't see it as racist, and consequently English or Welsh people flying the flag in Wales isn't racist either. No doubt some racist knobbers somewhere are trying to capitalise on this, but this is probably the only single example of the English proactively and positively reclaiming something that was hijacked by xenophobic bigoted twats.

Clive Wolfendale and his gang of PC cronies should shut the fuck up and wind their collective (as yet unwrung) necks in and allow people to celebrate what could be a great achievement in peace and without any implied or associated guilt.

Later AnglaisJacque

Really bugged!

So, GMD and the gang arrive back from The Money Pit at the weekend. Apparently the weather was glorious and they had a great time. Isn’t it wonderful how people revel in telling you how great their holiday was especially knowing you haven’t been away and that the weather was pretty grim here (until last Friday anyway!)? I don’t want to sound bitter and twisted….but you can imagine how I feel having them return to enjoy something which has cleaned the coffers of Jacks Bank and Shares Account to a level of nothingness comparable to the vast emptiness of the universe. On top of that a colleague from work had rented it for the previous 2 weeks and since his return has done nothing but tell me how great it was, what bars were good, how to get to the bloody beach club and where his favourite restaurants were! So, everyone knows more about The Money Pit and the surrounding locale than me! Oh yeah, keep bringing on the happy feelings…go on rub a few more joyful stories in about how great your holiday was. My turn will come (July 2^nd to be precise) when I’m off to Spain for a weeks golf, drinking and football with some mates), maybe then I’ll come and regale you all with tales of my joyous week and see how you like it!

The cycling fad is still very much about. I went out virtually every night last week, and on Sunday. Monday night I met up with BigSykes again and we hit a 12 mile round trip ride which took in some frankly breathtaking scenery but also managed to get me covered in hundreds of tiny flies and bugs. God only knows how many of the little buggers I swallowed. Who needs an evening meal after a several courses of kamikaze flies? I forgot the camera but will make sure it comes next time so that I can get some mega-snaps of just how lovely the surrounding area to Jack Palace is.

Despite being under GMD orders last week to “not spend any money whilst I’m away” I did buy one or 2 bits and bobs courtesy of Argos and eBay. For the bike I bought a crash helmet (in case I involuntarily take a flyer one day), a decent U-lock so that no thieving scumbag can nick it and leave me with a very long walk home from somewhere remote, a bike computer to help me gauge just how far I’ve ridden and what speed I’ve done and a Belkin Tunecast II device so that I can play my MP3’s back through my car radio. Apparently though, this capability is illegal in the UK because transmitting a radio signal must be licensed. Its not illegal to use these “re-broadcast” devices (which merely lock the output of the player onto an unused FM frequency in the car) in Europe or the US, so why the hell are we different here? Does UK radio work on different laws of physics to every where else. Honestly we really are up our own arses on some issues in the UK. Anyway I look forward to the day a copper pulls me and charges me with flagrantly flouting the 1949 Telegraphy Act of Great Britain, as if he’d even know about such a thing! I just don’t get why the choice for radio across the rest of the civilised world appears so great, and yet here it is so restricted.

And one last thing for this post…………Heather Mills McCartney was apparently a porn star! Lucky bloke I’d say because these porn stars surely know their business. As Ali G once stated, shouldn’t Porn Stars become Sex teachers so that we all know how to be good at it, having learned from real experts? What made me simultaneously laugh and boil about the whole affair was The Sun’s “holier than thou” attitude to the whole thing. They talked of “depraved acts” and a “filthy past” etc. Hmm……when did The Sun’s hacks become monks then? What do they do in bed then…….lights off, fumbling for discrete flaps in nighties and flies in pyjamas (all flannelette of course) and a peck on cheek afterwards? This coming from a paper that has shown topless women on Page 3, some only teenagers, since time immemorial and has regularly revelled in printing covertly gained pictures of celebs in various stages of undress, whether on beaches or just “popping out” whilst at a ceremony. To think people still read this shite!

Later, GrocerJack.