Life goes on....for some

Well, a few more days have passed since Monsieur Merde tried and failed to send Jack off to meet his maker. Sleep is still not coming too easily and now at last after what, 10 days, the aches and pains have subsided to a point where a daily dosage of Ibuprofen is no longer necessary. The car has also been authorised to be repaired at around £4500, which gives an indication I guess of the damage done. Lucky it was only a month old then.


One of the strange things is the way Kid and Pie have reacted to the whole thing. I’m not sure if its genetic pragmatism inherited from their Mum, the fact that neither drive or just the malleable nature of the teenage mind rendering its repair process to be quicker, but after the initial hysteria and shock dissipated, both have just got back on with their lives with minimum fuss. This makes me feel even worse, because it’s taken me so long for the shock to get to the point where normality is in sight.

Is it age and our greater sense of mortality that does this to us? Have I tripped unwittingly over yet another apparent disadvantage of ageing? Or is it an advantage, one which feeds an increasing sense of awareness around danger, perhaps even paranoia? Is this why parents fuss so much, because as we get older and ‘one day closer to death’, as Pink Floyd so memorably sang, that our appreciation of the tenuous grip we all have on life is even more acute?

On another Floyd note, I’d just like to express my own sadness at the passing of Richard Wright, a key member of my all time favourite band. Richard Wright was the quiet one of the band, happily sitting in the background and courting publicity unwittingly, and yet providing some of the best creative input, contributing to the ‘sound’ of Pink Floyd which so set them aside from anything before or since. He was 65, no age to die, and throughout all of the troubles fought publicly and privately by the band, he was the one who’s dignity and charm stood out. His death puts paid to any true reunion of this great band. Roger Waters and Dave Gilmour have bickered and prevaricated over such a reunion for years now, well now it’s too late. And that’s a shame as a lot of fans have never seen them or had the chance to bid them adieu. I’ve seen them 6 times in all, and each was utterly awesome, far more than just a rock concert, more a piece of performance art. Music sits a poorer place with Richard Wright’s loss.


Later , GJ.

PS – happier posts to come, but there’s an exam coming up (eeeek) and yet another week in France revising. Then life will hopefully be truly back to normal

Lucky indeed

Hmm, why would someone park their car right in front of 44 tonne HGV you might ask? After all the picture suggests some plucky motorist making a stance against some empty headed trucker out looking for the next ordinary driver he can terrorise. Or perhaps the picture was taken in France and the driver of the yellow car has found a space in front of a lorry to park in as he goes off to the market or beach. Believe me, parking in France is often just like this.



Or, it could be this.


Driving back from The Grandmaster and Audrey's place on Saturday afternoon, bimbling along at 70 on the M25 between junctions 11 and 10, anti-clockwise I was in lane 2 overtaking a French lorry driving on the inside lane at around 65. I wasn't whizzing past him as the traffic was quite heavy and I was behind another lorry, but I was doing around 5mph more than Monsieur Merde (look it up on a french translation site). Kid and Pie were happily listening to their iPods and Hellsbells was settling back for a comfy doze. I was listening to Planet Rock on a low volume so as not to wake Hellsbells.

That's when it happened. The stretch of the M25 we were on had no hard shoulder and we were about a mile from the A3 turn off. That's when we felt the first impact. Monsieur Merde, presumably like most HGV drivers, a person who presumably believes himself a professional driver had decided to move into our lane. The flaw in his planned move was in not checking for the presence of a BRIGHT FUCKING YELLOW SEAT LEON!

The first impact hit Hellsbells door. We know this because Pie was looking out that side at the time. This knocked us at an angle to Monsiuer Merde and his 44-tonne killing machine and the second impact on Kids door swung us into a skid from which we ended up pinned to the front of his juggernaut at 65mph at a right angle to the direction of our actual travel!

The next 20 seconds, which seemed like an eternity were the most terrifying of my entire life, and undoubtedly those oh Hellsbells, Kid and Pie. We travelled like this for around 350 yards with plumes of tyre smoke all around us, the screeching noise matched only by the crunching of metal collapsing under the sheer force of his momentum and that of Hellsbells and the girls.

As far as I could see, we were dead, or at the least severely injured. The one thing I remember is looking out of the passenger side past Hellsbells and seeing nothing but the front end of a 44-tonne murder machine blocking the entire view.

Eventually we could sense that we were slowing down and Monsieur Merde, showing some degree of belated skill had eventually managed to push us into the hard shoulder, but this has to be tempered with the fact that we were PINNED TO HIS FUCKING CAB and where he went, we went.

The picture was taken around 2 minutes after we'd stopped and a sense of normality had kicked back in. The girls were, as you might imagine, hysterical and very badly shaken, but barring a few bruises from seat belts, a bit of higher blood pressure and pulse. They were fine. Hellsbells and myself held it together at the scene and called the police and ambulance as a precaution. In a typically French manner, Monsieur Merde sat in his cab and lit a cigarette.

The Highways Agency officers arrived after 10 minutes and stopped the traffic whilst I drove the car off the front off the lorry and parked it alongside the hard shoulder rather than across it. They kindly took the details and helped sort he incident out, but did you know this? Unless there is a fatality, or serious injury then the police no longer turn up at such major accidents. That's right, the fuckwit coppers who are only too happy to turn up at your side if you do 45 in a 40 zone, can't be fucking arsed to come out to a major accident where either one of the drivers might have been guilty of a crime, perhaps in Monsieur merde's case his tachograph might have shown excessive travel time, or maybe he'd just knocked an aperitif back. Irrelevant, because no-one seemed badly hurt. I can hardly wait until the time a copper pulls me up on a minor driving infringment.

Get this as well. Despite the reasonable amount of traffic, not one person stopped to offer help or witness the incident. Not one. Well, maybe one person did. A french lorry driver in an act of understandable camaraderie stopped to help his compatriot. But did anyone stop to witness for us? No. How the fuck could people have witnessed this and not stopped. How could they have known there were no serious injuries? The Great British Fuckwit, Sun reading, I'm alright Jack pull up the ladder, greedy, self obsessed society showed its' true colours on Saturday. Thatcher was right, there is no such thing as society. She killed it.

The paramedics were fucking excellent as one expects. Calm, reassuring with an attitude of nothing being too much trouble. I thanked them profusely for helping Pie and Kid, especially as Pie was close to passing out through the shock.

As for the car, well badly smashed down the passenger side, all four tyres were taken back to the metal banding. Remember this car is less than a month old and had 800 miles on the clock. That's a lot of new tyre tread to burn though. But, that car didn't flip, didn't spin, didn't buckle. It held the road superbly considering the force it was under. It saved our lives.

SEAT - your little car is a fucking miracle. Luck may have played a part, but so must the design and construction iof the car. 10 years ago, or even in our previous 'second' car the awful Vauxhall Meriva, we'd have been dead. and Grocerjack would really have been unable to 'get off his back, go to town and not let them down. Oh no.'

Later, GJ

Doomed?

Hello, are you all still there? Good, so the world didn't end today, although philosophically speaking who can categorically state it ever existed? Some Cartesian philosophy is always a good thing midweek.

Apparently kids have been panicked into thinking today is the day it all ends. The subject of the Large Hadron Collider switch on today has, if nothing else, diverted us away from the never ending gloom on the weather and economy.



What I do find amusing is that the press are quick to jump on the bandwagon with lurid tales of destruction and doom which of course to the less educated or discerning immediately become fact! Others then quickly don their hair shirts and straw sandals to whine on about what a waste of money the whole thing is and wouldn't the money have been better off spent building hospitals. I've posted enough before about the do gooders who would build a world full of good causes and never would we see such technological marvels as Concorde, The Space Shuttle or the
Channel tunnel. Sometimes we have to build the follies as a way of stretching what we know.

Any good that comes from these things may be unwitting, but surely it's better than the risk averse return to caveman world the do-gooders want. I think great discoveries have often come from experiments designed to discover or theorise on something else.

Anyway, I have my own theory. The Universe was created from the Big Bang.

The Big Bang occurred after the occupants of the previous Universe switched on their Large Hadron Collider.

The late, great Douglas Adams would have been proud.

Later GJ

Back to the Gloom

Well, that's the annual one over for another year. I could have been very creative and write loads whilst away, but basically couldn't be arsed. The OU stuff suffered a bit as well, so its head down for the next few weeks, meaning posts could be sparser than of late. My exam is 13th October after which I will once again be free from the shackles of seemingly interminable study.

Great holiday though, thanks for asking!

Later GJ

So that's it for a while, unless I get any creative urges on holiday. I'm semi-demob happy. I have a small domestic to sort once I arrive in that Kid wants to come home a week early to 'prepare for college' but this sounds a ruse to me. It seems to me that teenage hormones are starting to simmer, no doubt for her, but also for her 'boyfriend' the now regenerated 'Mini Me'.That's regenerated as in going from 4 foot fuck all to an inch or two taller than me in 18 months. I'd still win the fight though! Anyway, me....leave a teenager in the house for a week? Alone? She has two chances, Slim and None, and Slim just rode out of town.

I had a quiet birthday though. Thanks for asking. It means a lot. A few cards and texts and a few e-cards as well. Nice to know people remember these things. I actually got my present last week the day after they all went to The Money Pit, but started using it from Friday after the new car turned up. Its a Pure Highway in car DAB radio device. It took less than 10 minutes to install, just an aerial and windscreen mount needed putting in place. As I switched it on I braced myself to expect yet another piece of worthless, junk Technology that promised loads and delivered nothing.

Just for once I was proven wrong. This fantastic little device worked immediately. It seeks out a spare unused FM frequency for you, then displays which one to tune your car radio to. When you do this, the words Pure DAB show up in the car radio display (if you have RDS) and hey presto, Planet Rock in crystal clear stereo! I drove in today for the first time in the new car and 'Planet Rocked' all the way. I can get all the DAB stations pretty well, but they all drop at one point on the route for about 30 seconds, but then this is in the middle of bloody nowhere, and with DAB coverage running at around 80% of the country it will occur from time to time. If the FM frequency becomes busy as you move around the country then a single press finds a new one and you simply retune to that. So, after a few minutes of Breakfast on 5 Live, harping on about the bloody Olympics, I decided to kick start my day with Planet Rock and was treated to the delights of Bad Company, The Clash, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and Metallica. Music to get the heart started!

I waited for years to hear Radio 1 in FM when the BBC was dragging its feet on rolling it out on FM. By the time it came I was too old for the station. I had hopes that the former incompetent QUANGO, The Radio Authority (now OFCOM) would give Virgin an national FM frequency so I could hear something other than Boy/Girl Bands and Dance rubbish. But no, they decided the 'adult' music market was already well served by the travesty of broadcasting that is local commercial radio. My previous posts on the state of UK radio say it all. It's Pop, Classical or Talk if you wanted national FM coverage. Well, DAB Radio does away with that, as does Internet radio. Anything that weakens OFCOM is good in my view. Radio is too safe and bland in the UK.

Anyway, take it from me, this device is a superb piece of kit and Pure deserve all the plaudits for finally putting an in-car DAB option out to market at a reasonable price (£55 on Amazon).

Anyway, that's it for now, apart from one comment about George W Bush berating China for it's record on Human Rights. Apparently he's not happy that they lock up dissidents and suppress religion.

George, two things. Guantanamo Bay and the victimization of declared Atheists in your own back yard. America, land of the Free? Not for a very long time George.

Pot....kettle anyone?

Later, GJ

Signs of Ageing, pt 2

Just a few observations......

1.) Every day something else aches.

2.) Your wife and kids go away for a week and you eat sensibly and don't go to the pub every night even though you could!

3.) You get up at 7 in the morning when you're NOT working. Even after going to the pub!

4.) There are an increasing number of things that bring a tear to your eye making you look like a soppy old sod. Which of course you are!

5.) Radio 1 is a form of torture.

6.) You can no longer keep time with your air guitar or air drums.

7.) Big Brother makes you reach for the off switch.

8.) A whole night of sleep without getting up for the loo seems a distant but fond memory.

9.) You tut at people who play their music loudly in cars, despite still doing this yourself. Its their choice of music that's the issue of course.

10.) Sex scenes on TV make you leave, or want to leave the room.

11.) You buy clothes because they make you look slim, are comfortable and because you think they make you look younger.

12.) And because they're cheap. Good value. Sensible. Practical.

13.) You never go to the Doctor about just ONE thing any more.

Today is my birthday. I am 47. Fourty-bloody-seven.

Hellsbells, Kid and Pie are sunning themselves in The Money Pit whilst I go to work.

The first flecks of grey in the goatee have been spotted by me, after kidding myself they were blonde. Spartacus, the youngest in my team yesterday asked me how old I was. I'm 3 years younger than her Dad for fucks sake! She then asked me if I colour my hair and was incredulous when I told her I don't. And I genuinely don't! Its still light brown to fair depending on how sunny it is. Is this fact about my hair being 'au naturelle' going to become a surprise to everyone as I .....ahem....mature?

I'm off on Friday for my annual mega-stint at The Money Pit. We have wi-fi there now so who knows, I might get to post a thing or two.

Or maybe not.

Later, GJ

Signs of Ageing, pt1

How very true!

Later, GJ

Wasteful Unwinnable War

In the news today we have the stunning revelation that drugs 'swoops' have little or no effect on the amount of drugs available on the streets.

Anyone else find this news unsurprising?

I'm no great fan of drugs, but I do acknowledge that some of the worlds greatest art and music has been inspired by moods or images induced by the use of drugs. I've dabbled in a bit of dope in my time as well. I learnt that it makes you laugh uncontrollably , usually kicking in when least appropriate moment, it does give you the munchies and that it doesn't mix well with alcohol and not at all with a combination of alcohol and Distalgesic. In fact the latter (accidental) combination can be very frightening. Don't do it kids!



I do however resent millions of pounds being pumped into the administration of the 'drug problem' in the relentless 'war on drugs'. By this I specifically mean the money frittered away in the legal and judicial systems on policing the issue, arresting people and then charging them and then either banging them up or fining them. I have no issue with spending money on rehabilitating addicts if is their choice to come off the drugs, just as I don't resent taxpayers money being spent on alcoholism or smoking related diseases. Similarly other people who need NHS treatment for risky things such as sport, motor cycling, gardening or drinking a hot coffee will never find me moaning about their treatment.

I've probably ranted on this before, but I can't be arsed to look back through all my posts, but in essence drugs are all about personal choice. If you're an adult, that is over 18, and are considered old enough to drink, smoke, vote or die for your country then why not just legalise the whole lot and sell them through pharmacies. Make it illegal to use them in public, I have no issue with that but if people want to snort some Charlie, or stick a needle into themselves in their own or someone else's home then let them do it. It could be that pharmacies sell the drugs under licence as Pubs and Off Licences do for alcohol, and it wouild be a good idea to make the sale subject to photo i.d being presented irrespective of age (an argument for i.d cards?) and that every purchase is signed for, as with a prescription, with a disclaimer that absolves the vendor from any action that might come about through the injury or death of the buyer.

Just think about this. Drugs would be price controlled and set to match the 'street price' thus squeezing the illegal traffickers and dealers out of business. The drugs would be taxed. Licenses to produce them to a minimum quality standard would be issued, allowing the likes of Glaxo Smithkline Beecham and Eli Lilly to produce them in proper hygienic plants. The state could even make a profit which is then ploughed into the NHS. The user would know the risks, and accept them through the signing of the disclaimer. The state would have no culpability in the event of any accident, disease or death occurring as a consequence of taking the drugs. I am really struggling to find flaws in this.

The idea was mooted in Ben Elton's excellent book, High Society, and it's hard to see why we persist with a flawed 'war on drugs' which is as doomed to failure as the 'war on terrorism'. Would any current politician or political party be brave enough to have this on their election platform? Of course not, because the majority of them have no spines or balls. They are too scared of losing the vote of the Daily Mail brigade rather than pushing for a radical re-think in the way we treat drugs.

One thing is for sure, my Liberation TM party would adopt this policy!

Later, GJ

Set me free

Do you think you live in a free country?

As a society in the UK, can we consider ourselves really free?

Is it just me, or does it appear that with every passing day under Rab C Nesbitts….sorry……. Gordon Brown's increasingly shambolic and incompetent government, which shames the Labour Party and Labour movement, that someone somewhere is trying to introduce a new piece of legislation that further diminishes our right to choose?


Is there no end to the constant stream of Nanny Government missives, diktats and arselikhan mandarins suggesting new laws, codes of practice and guidelines be introduced in order to ensure we, the ordinary people of the country do the apparent right thing?

We’ve seen the government spend our money on an independent report on the classification of Cannabis and then totally ignore the recommendations. Apparently they know better than the medical experts who were commissioned to produce the report.

Now, with the success of the smoking ban making pubs nicer places to go, increasing the number of people giving up and reducing the number of people starting from the outset, they are turning their attention to the demon drink. Barely a day goes by without some stark warning about the imminent collapse of society through drinking. Rab’s even gone as far as to commission a report on drinking hours in pubs……yeah that’s right..because pubs are so full of alcoholics aren’t they? Don’t most alcoholics drink irrespective of location? It’s the supermarkets fault if you believe one point of view because they sell booze so cheaply. Hmmm……but our booze is the dearest in Europe…..how does that work then? Supermarkets and Off Licences could ensure stricter controls on who they sell to, but there’s always someone willing to buy the stuff and then pass it to youngsters. It was the same in my day when we got our cheap alcohol thrills from a chemical nasty called Pomagne. If drinking is worse now than in the 1970’s then deal with it through education at schools, not by penalising the majority of sensible people who meet in the pub once or twice a week for a social chat.



We’re under constant attack for being fat. The word Obese has a dictionary meaning of ‘grossly overweight’ but nowadays applies to someone carrying an extra pound or two above the media view of what looks good, and some obscure Government formula for height and weight that makes every one of the England Rugby team obese. Like the word ‘gay’ has been abused by the homosexual community, so the word ‘obese’ has been kidnapped by the body fascists. Our food is apparently bad, but paradoxically we live longer, and with prices rising we’re still under daily assault to eat healthy foods which the Supermarkets charge a premium for.

Now we have a bunch of dickless, do-good, namby pamby, sandal wearing experts pushing for health warnings on food, preventing legitimate organizations like McDonalds from advertising and generally trying to make us all live off home grown lettuce and carrots. Yes, McDonalds is bad for you IF YOU EAT IT EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!!!! But once in a while, as most people use it, isn’t harming anyone.

Another load of ‘we know better than you’ bollocks came last week in the news that Greater Manchester councils are considering imposing 18 certificates on films that display smoking. Now I might be wrong here, but smoking isn’t actually illegal except in certain places is it? On 5 Live they interviewed one of these Nanny Councillors (the intriguingly named Basil Curley) who said this move was all about ‘education’ and that youngsters took their leads from screen idols. Hmmm…..so if Christian Bale smokes, a whole bunch of 15 year olds will also go out and smoke. Anyone see the flawed logic in this? If a 15 year old hasn’t started smoking by the age of 15 I reckon there’s a fair chance he or she is not going to be starting. And aren’t they more
likely to smoke by seeing their parents smoke? We educate the kids in school and at home, do we really need Draconian bollocks like this to ram home the message?

In Friday’s Guardian, an article from yet another shitneck fucking Doctor preaching that we need to have fewer children in order to save the planet. And I thought it was the UK not China.

In essence hardly a day goes by without more useless scientific or survey information being paraded as ‘News’ associating everything to a ‘cost on society’. Every day you’ll hear of new laws being planned or implemented which further undermine our right to choose or do.

When was the last time you heard of any laws being repealed?

There has to be a tipping point. Italy looks like its lurching to the right and I reckon this will be the start of ideological shifts across Europe to either left or right. When democratically elected Governments start to dampen people’s rights and freedoms then it breeds political extremism. Even in our apathetic ‘can’t be arsed’ UK society something has to give.

Just look around you and see the society we live in, the warnings on food, on the roads, on buses, on drinks and lyric warnings on CD’s. Everywhere you turn it’s a Health and Safety warning or a Legal Notice. We’re a society living under petty bureaucracy and pompous moral high ground fuckwits obsessed with telling others how to live, what to eat, what not to eat, what to wear, what to drive, what to read, what to watch, what to listen to, what to drink, where to go, where you can’t go, where you shouldn’t go, who you should and shouldn’t talk to, how to behave, what’s right and what’s wrong.

Big Brother is watching us.

Eat less, drink less, smoke less, fuck less, sunbathe less, travel less.

Live life to the least.

Freedom? My Arse!

Later , GJ.

Max Mosley is an odious and pompous autocrat. He personifies the upper class twit mentality that cripples this country. I know I couldn’t spend more than 30 seconds in his company without wanting to transform his face with a steel toecap boot. He has contributed greatly
in the transformation, and subsequent demeaning, of F1 and other motor sports from races where individual skill prevailed, to processions of technological genius where success is driven by money.

I don’t much like him.

But, I will raise my glass to him this evening over his rightful victory over the scabby rag The News of the World. If ever a victory for common sense and a person’s right to privacy was needed then now is as good a time as any. I only wish the punitive damages of £60,000 had been £6,000,000.

This rotten example of The Fourth Estate decided to follow a man into a private room and expose him to the world for some exotic sexual tastes. It makes me mad to think this grottylittle organ sits there in moral judgement on adult activities that are not illegal, whilst peddling titillation and soft porn to the nation. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me, exposingand berating the private lives of celebrities whilst showing topless pictures of 18 year old girls and actively advertising dubious ‘chatlines’ and mobile phone downloads. What next, exposing Elton John for sleeping with a man.....showing everyone that Amy Winehouse has a drink and drugs issue.....oh sorry I forgot they've already done that.

Uniform based orgies are not my bag, but if it is Max Mosley’s thing then surely that’s down to him and no-one else. The media and people in worldwide motorsport are now crying out for him to resign. I’d like him to resign as well but for reasons to do with ruining motor sport and not because some devout religious F1 fan is disgusted by his activities or other allegedly important, but more realistically powerful people are offended by his sexualproclivities.

The truth is none of them would have been any the wiser had the Screws not felt it necessary to tell everyone what a man does in his own private time with other consenting adults. They nearly got everything they deserved and should have been done - £6,000,000 is a message that would have made every tabloid think twice about propagating such utter banal and pointless crap. .

Max Mosley, I wouldn’t drink with you, but tonight I will drink to you.

Later , GJ

The Wage Slave (contd)

My first 1:1 with The Tub Thumper (TTT) ....abridged


TTT: So then, Jack, how do you feel?

GJ (says): OK, a little worn out but then the last few months have been ....a tad stressful
GJ (thinks) Like you give a shit....

TTT: Why's that?




GJ (says): Well, you know, not knowing what the future holds, not knowing if I'll have a job or who I'll be working for. being promised so much and then having it all taken away
GJ (thinks): Because you're all a bunch of egotistical fuckwits sat in Ivory Towers advancing your careers at the expense of others.

TTT: Well, understandable I suppose. But hey, it's all done and dusted now, and the good news is you're working for me!

GJ (says): Well, that is some good news at last. Although I didn't want to work in Problem Control.
GJ (thinks): Whoopy-fucking-do, an evangelist for a boss who doesn't believe in Evolution and doesn't have a TV and believes the world was created in 7 days. And hey, done and dusted? For fucks sake, have you no Christian compassion?

TTT: You won't be in Problem, you'll be a new team with a new function - Service Performance and Intelligence! SPI........what do you think?

GJ (says): Wow, sounds exciting. When do we start?
GJ (thinks): Smile, look happy, look enthusiastic. How bad can this be? I think I already know.

TTT: Glad you like it. How do you think the team will take the news?

GJ (says): They'll be thrilled! Some closure on the past and something to aim for in the future. They're a hardy bunch.
GJ (thinks): Fuck me, I've got my work cut out placating them. How the fuck do I spin this positively?

TTT: We'll also need to get to work on how we develop you, get you back on track.

GJ (says): Great, it's been a nightmare stagnating in such an environment of uncertainty.
GJ (thinks): Leave me alone. I don't need or want any patronising development. I'm quite happy with my team and role.

TTT: I notice that on your annual review you put 'under review' against long term aspirations, yet The Master told me you were hoping for your F Grade.

GJ (says): Well, I am reviewing my options in light of all the redundancies. It's fair to say my trust in The Company to look after me or even care about my future career is somewhat tainted. F grade looks like a departure lounge to me. And I've got a mortgage and family to look out for.
GJ (thinks): Oh yeah, I'm REALLY gonna put my neck in the noose! Happy comparative anonymity has served me well thus far for 15 years so it might as well serve me that way for the future.

TTT: (silence and bemused look)

GJ (says): I'm Ok with where I am. I'm a bit old to carry any further ambition in The Company.
GJ (thinks): I want to do something else, but as a wage slave I'm fucking trapped. Yep, That should get the blade sharpened!

TTT: Well..I'm surprised. I thought you were a bit more confident and upbeat than that.

GJ (says): Well, 5 months of uncertainty and protecting my team from the rumours and getting them to work as normal has been hard and I'm a little jaded.
GJ (thinks): Is this it? At 46 I've got to be preached at and patronised. Are you really too dim to understand why I'm a bit down?

TTT: Never mind, you have a break coming up so you can recharge the batteries and come back ready to drive the team and yourself on.

GJ (says): Yep, that's what I need, my holiday. I'll come back on full thrust and be ready to lead the team into new campaigns. it's really quite exciting......
GJ (thinks): Christ, she might as well have said 'never mind, have a cup of tea and everything will be fine' - You hypocrite jack, you fucking spineless hypocrite. Tell her the truth! Go on....there's a devil on my shoulder

10 seconds pass....

GJ (thinks): The Angel on the other shoulders smacks The devil in the mouth. Don't be a prick, say the right things, smile and lie through your teeth. it's not about you.....

30 minutes of banal Corporate Bullshit now ensues, relating to 'objectives and goals' and how they plan to engage with the employees to improve the Employee Engagement score.


GJ (says): Mmmmm.....yeah.....OK.......right.....and other reassuring but nonsensical words during this lecture whilst nodding head and with eyes glazing over.
GJ (thinks): Here's an idea for improving Employee Engagement. Don't treat us like fucking morons. Don't treat us like children. Don't make stupid false promises. Don't build up hopes and then dash them. Don't dress up messages in Corporate Gobbledygook Bollocks talk. Don't patronise people. Don't let people see private meeting invites. Don't feed the rumour mill. Tell everyone at the same time what's going on. Don't consult people and then totally ignore their recommendations.


TTT: It's good to have you on board. You'll be a great asset to the team and department.....

GJ (says): It's good to be on board. I'm sure it'll be a great challenge and we can deliver real value to the organisation.
GJ (thinks): Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. I feel sick.


My Hypocrititis, a disease of the mind whereby I do exactly the opposite of what I think and what I want, is back and knows no bounds.

Later, GJ

We should pay for this!

It's a continuing complaint, but whoever came up with the 5 days at work, 2 days off ratio
was a dick. Time for a GJ campaign methinks, along the lines of "3 day weekends for all".....except those who work in shops, museums, golf clubs, football clubs, kebab shops,
bike shops, police stations, fire stations, ambulance stations, hospitals, chemists, pubs,
restaurants, cafe's, trains, planes, boats, leisure centres......you get my drift.

On Saturday I was up at 5:45 to drive to Skank's so we could execute Plan B to try and make up for the loss of last weekends Fairford Air Show, due to the bloody British summer of non-existence, by going to Farnborough instead. It was good day out and allowed me to put my Canon EOS-400D and it's 70-300mm telefoto lens through it's paces for the first time. It passed with flying colours. Both Skank and myself reeled off dozens of pictures, in fact for me it was close to 700, of glorious death and killing machines flying through the air at high speed and making a lot of noise. I've never understood people at Air Shows with ear defenders. Isn't the roar of the engines part of the attraction?

Air show photography is also notoriously tricky, especially for amateurs like me. On all my previous outings I've either taken an automatic camera or a digital compact camera. All you end up with though is the Viz comic's "Famous Air Show Photographs" section which is a dot in the sky! Having loaded Saturday's lot into the PC, I reckon I'll get around 100 decent ones after a bit of software re-touching to remove some issues.

I know it pisses the photo purist off, the fact that Digital photography can be easily re-touched and photo's enhanced, but for 99.999% of the worlds amateur photographers the Digital revolution which allows numpties like me to rattle off hundreds of pictures without carrying a wheelbarrow load of film around, then re-touch them via some fairly noddy software has to be a good thing doesn't it.

The Vulcan Bomber flew on Saturday, it's first flight ata major airshow for 15 years or so having been taken out of service in 1992. The picture was taken by Skank. It's cost TVOC (The Vulcan Operating Company) some£8m to get it flying again. To keep the plane flying will cost £1.6m per year. TVOC are walking around with the begging bowl on this one. After the disastrous cancellation of Fairford, depriving the Vulcan of a great chance to fly and attract sponsors. It seems crazy to me that many of our fantastic British achievements are left to rot. If an old building is likely to collapse, has the slightest most tenuous link to something historic or be knocked down, then we 'list' it and government funds are made available for it's upkeep as part of our national heritage. Very commendable.

But shouldn't this be extended to other areas as well? My hard earned tax goes on overpaid civil servants, wasteful QUANGO's and all sorts of things I don't agree with, but for some reason the British Government, irrespective of political leaning continually refuse to keep equally important parts of our heritage going. The Vulcan bomber, like the Lancaster bomber,like the Spitfire, like the original Ark Royal, like the original cross Channel Hovercraft and most of all like Concorde should all have been funded centrally from Government to allow them to continue flying or sailing at public displays. A case in point would be Concorde.

Keep one or two flying and I can guarantee they could have covered them in Sponsors logos and they'd have damn near recouped the operating costs outlay. I saw the crowd go silent when the Vulcan took off. I saw the awe and and heard the gasps when it flew past. People loved the thing. Concorde would have had the same effect. In the same way that people stop and stare at a vintage car, it reminds us of a time when we could not only think the innovations up, but still build them as well. Maybe it reminds us of a previous time when we may have had a justification for the prefix of Great.

Later GJ

The Parent Tax

Teenager has just got her first pay packet in her summer job as a lifeguard/receptionist at the local leisure centre.

£450 - tax free.

Am I being unreasonable to expect some 'keep' from her?

According to Hellsbells I am. According to Teenager I am as well. In fact everyone seems to think I'm being unfair.

Except me.

When I left school and got my first pay packet I took home £20. I had to give £10 of that to my Mum for my keep. So on that principle I reckon Teenager owes me £225. I've offered a discount as she goes to college in September, and decided that 20% would be reasonable - that's £90, which would keep me in Guinness/Magners for a month probably, or let me buy bloke stuff more regularly. I could spend it at Stamford Bridge on Chelsea tops and other Chelsea merchandising, which would save me surreptitiously hitting my credit card and smuggling the goods in past Hellsbells.

As an aside, all blokes who get married have to smuggle stuff past their partners. Partners think that all spending by blokes on stuff we need is unnecessary and is therefore unauthorised. I need golf clubs, camera lenses, camera extras, Chelsea shirts, Chelsea shorts, Chelsea jackets, Chelsea mugs, Chelsea pint glasses, iPods, DVD's, golf accessories, mountain bike stuff, power tools and computer gadgets. Any man knows this type of thing is all absolutely necessary. So why do us blokes all (and we do all) accept the fact that we have to secretly buy the stuff, smuggle it in under the radar system that all women seem to have and then wait 6 months before publicly using/wearing it? Women don't have to do this of course. No need for smuggling when they know damn well us blokes couldn't give a damn what new clothes or shoes they've bought. When they show this stuff off us blokes all know the correct stock answer of

"Yes love, it looks great. It makes you look younger/thinner/sexier" (delete as appropriate) .

Maybe it's time for some GoGB Liberation to take place here. When I'm brave enough I'll start the Let Blokes Buy Stuff Campaign from here.

Back to the Parent Tax. Why can't I claim this 'parent tax' from Teenager? After all, Teenager has had 16 years of money, support, toys, DVD's, mobile phones, computers, clothes and love off of me.

Completely unconditionally of course.

Later GJ

How not to keep a workforce happy (pt2)

At the time Mr Blonde was re-assuring us of our place deep in the warm and welcoming bosom
of The Company, it became clear the one thing he couldn't supply was the SM structure (remember we were in the Service Management or SM team of the larger Smoke & Mirrors or S&M Department...come on please keep up). This meant that none of us really knew who we would be working for and what the ramifications of Simple Tuesdays fallout would be.

But we were safe. Secure. Guaranteed. No more redundancies.

Of course we were.

Over the next six weeks we had several false dawns. Three times an announcement was due on
the structure of the SM team and twice mr Blonde cancelled. The third time we were called
together to tell us that nothing had progressed. In itself this set the alarm bells ringing and this turned the starting handle of the rumour mill which swung effortlessly into action. Mr Blonde was leaving, Queen Wasp was moving sideways, SM was dead in the water etc. I listened to the rumours, the chief one being that SM was being canned and that Mr Blonde was leaving by his own hand on a point of principle. This was the one I bet on, because it had been apparent that the S&M Leadership Team was far from being united. I mean, are leadership teams ever truly united? In my experience the back-biting, one-upmanship, arse-licking and political manoeuvring is worse at that level than any other. And Mr Blonde was not welcome.

In fact from day one it seemed his no-bullshit, straight talking, common touch style was at odds with the Stepford Manager, smile whilst stabbing, corporate gobbledygook bollocks speak culture of the others on the team. Queen Wasp, to be fair, was a big fan of his because she also has the common touch when required, however she is surrounded by arselikhan wannabees using their current positions as a stepping stone to further their careers. Billyboy is good, he knows his stuff and seems savvy enough to detach himself from the crap. A very astute political player I'd say. But The Rugby Player (big and ugly) is a dangerous person who went from all round good guy, to the full 'Stepford chip insertion' clone, spouting Corporate Gobbledygook Bollocks Talk at any and every opportunity. Aligned with The Drinks Waiter, a 6 foot 8 inch giant of a man from Portugal with zero personality except for brooding Latin menace and people skills to match Robert Mugabe, and Captain Darling, a man so anally obsessed with 'process' and pretty 'swim lane' diagrams and all the managerial skills of Frank Spencer one can only sit back and be amazed at how he landed his role, it's little wonder Mr Blonde was in the firing line. I reckon in any one on one situation Mr Blonde would have dwarfed these three intellectual fuckwits, but up against a combined force he stood no chance.

The last week of April came around and the rumours were at fever pitch. Mr Blonde hadn't been seen for 2 weeks. A meeting was called by Queen Wasp and we can see Billyboy on the list of invitees. This in itself was a cock up, because if nothing was changing then why did Billyboy, the head of another department, lets call it the Dirty Hands team, even need to be there?

Here's why.

At 14:00 on the last Friday in April, 2 hours before the weekend starts we trundle to another building within the Corporate Palace estate to be confronted with Queen Wasp, Billyboy and Mr Blonde. Queen Wasp sets the scene and says that the SM function was being scaled down from the original proposal and that Mr Blonde was leaving, just 4 months after starting. At his own behest! Mr Blonde, to his credit, then stood up and told us that the role and scope of what he'd been recruited for had been reduced to such a small size that he'd decided that it didn't match with what he'd been told to come and set up, so he was off to pastures new. As usual he didn't mince his words, and whilst Queen Wasp sat there, it was obvious she was not best pleased at losing Mr Blonde. When a cabinet minister resigns on a point of principle, doesn't that reflect on the PM rather badly? I was minded of Sir Geoffrey Howe's resignation speech when he left the
Thatcher cabinet.

Queen Wasp, a tad shaken recovered to tell us we would all be in Billyboy's organisation and within 2 weeks we would all know here we sat. We had , of course, only left Billyboys DirtyHands team 4 months earlier when Mr Blonde had started.

There would be no further redundancies.

Of course there wouldn't.

The 2 weeks went by once again. No meeting was called this time. However, several people were invited to 1:1's with Billyboy and someone from The SS...sorry......HR. Included in this was my old boss The Master, but also some others as well.

Guess what?

Redundant. Despite what was said they were all, bar one who actually got promoted, out from that very day. It was a smaller, less vicious version of Simple Tuesday. I may have had differences with them from time to time, but watching them clear their desk , smiling through gritted teeth and saying what an opportunity it was for them still made this a very bleak day indeed. In the case of The Master, a man who embodied every aspect of The Company and lived and breathed every ideal and value of The Company, this seemed particularly poignant. Again, it was the F band Club hit the hardest. They all got good packages circa a years salary in lieu of notice to bump the taxman, plus share deals paid up, cars given to them and preserved staff discounts/benefits for a year after leaving. Very nice. But you still have to find a job, still have to pay a mortgage, still have to feed the family and if, like The Master...and like me...you haven't been in the open job market for over 15 years then it must be daunting to face the savageries of the modern day rat hunt that is finding a new job.

Later, that very day I get the call from The Tub Thumper to tell me she's my new boss. She wants a 1:1.

Things can only get better...can't they?

Later GJ

How not to keep a workforce happy (pt1)

So why was work a pile of festering shite for the last 6 months? Well, you may recall that the announcement was made last year that we would undergo a 'transformation' (or what we used to call a reorganisation) of The Company's High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings Department. Lets just call it the Smoke and Mirrors Department from now on because frankly it's all black fucking magic to me. Of course this abbreviates to the S&M Department, which also has some truth in it as well.

Anyway, this transformation was being done because, to quote Queen Wasp "we can do this, and we're not doing it because we have to" - My internal response at the time was "of course not love, you're doing it for us after all we'd all hate to think it was happening on the pretext of cost savings...I mean perish the thought".

I'd pitched my views into the various meetings about where my team should be and what it should be doing, kidding myself that

a.) anyone was listening
b.) anyone gave a shit
c.) I gave a shit

I am very good at faux enthusiasm. You may also recall, Mr Blonde was employed at great expense to come in and create the new Service Management department, or SM as it would have been known. Hmmm....the SM thing keeps cropping up. A theme maybe? So, in came Mr Blonde on £100000 per year to sit in the corner and basically ignore people until you spoke to him. I quite liked him for his apparent straight talking, no bullshit nature and the fact that he allegedly supported Chelsea, although this has never really played positively for me as most senior managers who claim such things are living in BillyLiarLand, using their football allegiance as some sort of link to the proletariat that work for them in order to exploit and claim credit for their talents to an even greater extent than normal.

Cynical? Moi?

Well, we were promised several 'drop dead' dates for organisational announcements which is always a tense time despite the usual 'no redundancy' bollocks coming from Queen Wasp. Then, some bright spark on the UK board decided that The Company, and not just S&M needed a trim.

Well, when I say trim, I mean the Corporate equivalent of a Brazilian.....yeah I know what you thought that link might show!

The S&M 'transformation' was firmly shoved into the bin and overtaken by the UK wide initiative called 'Simple'. That's when things got really sinister. A veil of secrecy descended over the whole company, rumours started to build and spread and many people sustained injuries caused by constant jumping to conclusions. In March, Simple Tuesday, was announced whereby the whole organisation would find out who was in and who was out.

It was a bloody cull. Good people were given envelopes a goodbye message and a severance deal, the departure being blamed on their alleged 'performance issues'. Others suddenly found their role's were 'no longer required' and also left. Most were walked off the site that day and forced to hand back laptops and phones. Email accounts were deleted that day and remote access was locked down. Every building at the Corporate Palace had the doors manned by security guards. It was corporate carnage.

Except for us. We were in the SM part of the S&M department and Mr Blonde happily told us that those of us who hadn't been thrown out that day were safe and were part of the future. This was a double edged sword for us of course because some of us had seen our friends have their lives turned upside down that day and not in a particularly dignified manner. Of course not everyone was shifted out that day, just those who were in the F Band Club (see posts passim). The mere proletariat were given notice until June 30th. Some were given gardening leave, some were told they were expected in as part of the severance deal. Stay at home and you lose it for those expected to come in.

During this period the atmosphere had gradually darkened until Simple Tuesday, when it was positively black. The worst day I can ever recall at work, ever.

But it was over and we were safe.

We had a future.

We could start to rebuild.

There was no more blood to be spilled...................surely?

Later GJ

Great?

Can someone remind me of what exactly is Great about Britain please?

Our weather is shite. I mean just how much rain should we get in Summer. Shouldn't we get at least one heatwave? Can anyone remember a single run of 4-5 days this year whereby we got warm sunny weather and cloudless skies? Great Britain?

An incompetent government. Fuel prices rising, which in the case of oil I do understand is not their fault, but for electricity and gas are absolutely down to our own misguided privatisation program. The coal mine closure program added to zero investment in nuclear and green renewable technologies is another factor. This has exposed us to global markets and allowed foreign companies to buy our 'crown jewels', whilst remaining closed themselves, and for dubious foreign powers to hold us to ransom over gas supplies. Compare this to France with its expansive Nuclear electricity network reducing the French reliance on any foreign supplies. Never having had a single accident. Great Britain?

An incompetent Governement (2) - food prices rising, again because of policies which penalise the local producers and reward supermarkets with too much power. Oddly not enough power to control prices. Food fascism constantly being rammed down our throats, telling us whats good and bad to eat, whilst implying we're all fat useless unhealthy loafers who waste food. Not eating organic? Gone for the cheapest option because you're income is lower and you still need to feed the family? According to Gordon Fuckwit you're a complete heathen and the real cause of the problems. Great Britain?

Stabbings - every day, every fucking day and a Home Secretary sitting there saying the answer is to show youngsters the effects of what knife crime. FFS? Great Britain?

More taxes - yep, every day in every way Gordon Fuckwit will find yet another tax to apply under the guise of making us green. As if any of these taxes will ever be used on anything green. Or useful come to think of it. Great Britain?

House prices falling and an obsessed media determined to talk us into recession. I remember seeing Chris Morris on The Day Today in his prophetic vision of a war generated by the media. You can see it here. Great Britain?

A member of The Commonwealth, Zimbabwe, is run by a crooked, vindictive, mentally unstable dictator in Robert Mugabe, and Britain, like all the others does nothing except ask for sanctions and removes his honorary titles. Yep, that hit him where it hurts. Great Britain?

The list goes on, Wembley Stadium (late and overbudget), The Millennium Bridge (faulty and closed immediately after openeing pending repairs), The Spinnaker Tower (delivered 6 years late and missed the Millennium celebrations by some distance), The Beagle Explorer mission to Mars (assumed crashed), the Princess Diana memorial fountain (not a proper fountain and another failed design), The Millennium Dome (stood unused for 7 years). Great Britain?

Later, GJ

Contrast

One minute you're planning a great big fuck off weekend at Fairford Air Show, with an early start, pole position in the grandstand, great big zoom lenses primed and loads of environmentally unfriendly and hugely noisy death and killing machinery whizzing past at 3oo mph.

The next you're nursing a hangover and sat in front of the TV all day long feeling sorry for yourself because thanks to the good old British Summer, the vast amounts of rainfall that have fallen thus far in July have waterlogged the whole Air Show site and the organisers called the whole thing off. yep, the whole of the flying displays cancelled with the a stroke of the proverbial pen.

250,000 people's planned weekend flushed down the drain unlike the water around RAF Fairford. We decamped to the pub on Friday night after finding out, the eintention being to determine if any sort of Plan B would compensate. Short of a Pink Floyd reunion with us getting a back stage pass there was nothing that even flickered us into life. Only one thing for it then.

Guinness.

Loads of Guinness.

Loads and loads of Guiness.

And a great big fat Cuban cigar, normally reserved for celebrations but in this case used to soften the fucking blow.

And soften the blow the guiness and the cigar did on the night, but at the usual price of a headache that felt like I'd been hit with a cricket bat by Kevin Pietersen. This is why there's no God. If there was then he'd have sympathised with our plight and waived the hangover fee just for one day.

I ended up gardening for fuck sake. Which in the scheme of things doesn't really come close to seeing an F22 Raptor do a vertical take off does it?

Later, GJ

Reasons

Reasons to be Grumpy.......

It's pissing down with rain, but apparently the temperature is normal for July. WTF?

Global climate change is happening but the drop in polluted skies is the cause, as the clearer skies mean more of the suns rays melting the polar ice caps. Or is it the shift in the magnetic poles? Or is it Aircraft - which contribute 2% of the man made emissions globally....far less than heavy industry or the car. No-one really knows, trust me, no-one really knows.

The housing market is collapsing, repossessions are up and mortgages are being restricted.

House building is stalling and government building targets are fucked. The government and the highly paid Economic analysts didn't see this coming? WTF?

Food prices are rising globally because we want biofuels instead of food. I mean does anyone know anyone who is running their car on a biofuel? FFS?

Fuel prices are rising due to the price of oil. Apparently India and China are to blame because they want to use it as well. And the G8 couldn't see that coming? WTF?

Fascist dictator Robert Mugabe stole the Zimbabwean elections whilst the US and Europe sat there watching. No oil in Zimbabwe I guess. FFS!

18 teenage stabbings this year but according to the Governmment they are tackling crime. Presumably by getting the police nicking more speeding motorists, graffiti 'artists' andmetal thieves rather than the rapists, stabbers and murderers. WTF?

Gordon Brown and his deadhead, blundering, incompetent, lying, cheating, corrupt Government are in charge. The opposition is The Conservative party. Whoopee-fucking-do!

I have 2 teenage daughters now. Offical. OMG!

I still have my braces :-( Just how much longer can this take?


Reasons to be cheerful...

Chelsea have a new Head Coach!

36 days to the new footie season!

I'm on holiday in France soon!

Doctor Who was great!

We're going to transform our garden and grow our own! I get a Greenhouse!

I can work from home 2 days a week!

My bonus this year was good!

Hellsbells has a new shiny bike!

Our new second car arrives soon and it's bright yellow. A Mr Happy car!

Pie is doing very well at school and Teenager has left school and is working until college starts! I have yet to see how this might save me some money though!

It can only rain so much.

Later GJ

Bored bored bored

Well people, the dust has settled after the reorg....sorry ...transformation and despite the best efforts of Queen Wasp (formerly Beach Babe...I will update The Players in good time of course) it became the ritual slaughter of good people we expected.

Of course her style, her apparent friendliness, the blonde hair, the certain look in her eye and an easy smile (to quote the great Roger Waters) allowed us all to be duped, but in the end good people walked and complete arseholes remained. It's all down to role, not ability or loyalty you see.

Quoting Roger again " You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to, so that when they turn their backs on you, you'll get the chance to put the knife in"

It's all a crock of shit and hopefully I will dedicate 20 minutes per day to writing an article here for your perusal, which over time will explain the .........bollocks of the last few months. Yes, I've been slack, but it's a combination of laziness, misery and a period of reflection on whether to decide if Jack should be woken from his self induced coma. No promises here, but I might just be full of inspiration again!

Anyway. Doctor Who? Fucking brilliant. The series goes from strength to strength and the latest series is no exception, far outstripping its predecessors for excitement, humour, fear and unbelievable beautifully written pathos just top make the girl's cry and men complain about something in their eye. The last 3 episodes finished the story arc off superbly with the iconic sight of the Tardis being piloted as it should be by 6 people for the first time ever. Awesome. As per usual the Doctor was played brilliant by David Tennant who has thankfully cut back on the gurning and grinning since Rose departed. Of course she was back for the end, but sensibly the role cut back a bit until a fitting re-union with the Doctor-Donna clone. But this brings me to the point of why the last 3 episodes and the whole series was an improvement.

Catherine Tate. Yep, after wholesale Whovian derision on the announcement of Catherine Tate as the new 'companion' by, frankly, sad idiots who can't separate her sketch show characters from her portrayal of someone by the process of acting. Something she is trained to do. She has in fact been the best of the companions to date. Instead of fawning over the Doctor like Rose did and indulging in annoying lovey-dovey dualist banter, nor adopting martha's doe-eyed approach (I love him but he hasn't noticed me) , Catherine tate played the part of the sympatehtic and critical humanist. She made The Doctor think about what he did, she bought common sense to the decisions of him and others. She cried at tragedy and showed bravery in the face of great peril. She really bought the audience into how living with someone like The Doctor could be both enlightening and frightening. She deserves a BAFTA for her performances throughout, but especially for the tragic and desperately sad ending involving the 'reset' button technique so beloved of Russell Davies for overall stories. Except this time this was for one person, whose life had been made so much better and yet she would know nothing of it.

Being Doctor Who of course, she may well return, but I have a feeling Catherine Tate will resist any attempts to bring her back. The character has closure and despite not being the happiest ending, she has her life as it always had been before she met The Doctor.

I didn't use my hankie once...honest.

A quick word as well for the superbly portayed Davros, by a guy called Julian Bleach. Wow. The best Davros by far, with a beautifully understated yet potent menace to his voice, and great mannerisms even if restricted to the right arm! His speech about "All the Stars and all the planets and all the people will become dust, and the dust will become atoms, and the atoms will become nothing' was delivered in a superb whispered menace just hinting at the great victory he expected. Truly a scary and iconic villain, now firmly lodged in Whovian folklore with his creations , The Daleks.

All in all superb family TV, which Baby nearly cried at, Hells Bells stated she didn't, MiddleSis and LittleSis admitted the tears and which Teenager also succumbed to. When the series returns with a new Executive Producer in 2010 it can only go from strength to strength.

Later, GJ

God, that last post looked shit didn't it? Well its deleted now so of you haven't seen it then you missed bugger all.

I'm thinking about how to continue this blog and whether I can find the time....which is ridiculous...20 minutes every couple of days shouldn't tax anyone, so maybe its just me being a lazy bastard.

Anyway, I'm not ready to kill the Grocer off just yet, so lets have a few quickie points.

Gordon Brown - God help us. Anyone see the resemblance to John Major?

The Planet is saved! - Planet Rock has been bought by a consortium of old rockers including Tony Iommi, Gary Moore and Fish. Great news and a poke in the eye to the continuing ripping out of the soul of radio we see from Corporate giants in it to make money at the expense of the listener.

Teenagers and knives - see the Liberation manifesto!

Chelsea - season over, no trophies, goodbye Uncle Avram, no new coach...I miss Stamford Bridge already.

A bright yellow new car - surely not? Unfortunately yes, outvoted by Hellsbells, Teenager 1 and Teenager 2.

Inter-costal muscle tears hurt ...a lot.

Co-codamol constipates you!

Redundancies at work, change is good (sic), change is inevitable etc and more work bollocks.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss

Amy Winehouse - what an abuse of talent.

Later, GrocerJack