Letter of thanks.

Dear kiddas,

For some preternatural reason I have over 1,300 blog followers now! Yippeeeee! Would just like to thank all of you and I promise that I will return with some posts/quirky pictures…

In the meantime, check out my friends’ band ‘The Kookaburras’, with their ‘honest pop’! They’ve just recently formed so only have one demo song but I promise you that they will record some of their fantastic material sooon!

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Kookaburras/438594266163976?fref=ts

Peace out brothers.

There’s Just No Shaking Jimmy!

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Never trust a man in a shell suit”, is what my mum used to say…unless they’re stuck in some sort of parallel universe where Ali G is King and the music of Salt-N-Pepa is put on loop. Needless to say, this mantra should be universally recognised. From the public sphere to the media, everybody needs to know that – “if his suit’s made of polyester, he’s most probably a molester”.

So how can people be so surprised by the recent allegations against Jimmy Savile? I mean, yes his private life was forever shrouded in mystery but don’t tell me that the guy didn’t look like a sex offender in the making. For starters his hair looked like a combo of flattened down candyfloss and tensile cotton wool (apparently his barnet was so stretchy that Savage Garden were able to take it “to the moon and back”. No joke…). And as for those eyes? Come on, they were nothing short of a horny hawk’s gawk! Believe me, I am not shocked in the slightest. In fact, what surprises me most is how long the story has dragged on for; as if we need any more evidence to incriminate the man. Indeed, he once said, “I don’t own a computer because I don’t want anyone to think I’m downloading child pornography”…or something like that.  If that’s not damning enough for you then what on earth is?! But, just to show how long the case has gone on for, since the 1st allegation of this series of ‘Jim’s Abused It’ came out the world has changed dramatically:

14th October – Man breaks speed of sound

 16th October – Cats feud at Downing Street

 20th October – Liverpool win league game at Anfield

The whole saga has gone on far too long now. So much so, I expect that the ‘awe-inspiring’ Ed Sheeran will write yet another subtly titled track – ‘Paedophilia’. A track where he’ll tepidly parody the lives of Gary Glitter and Freddie Starr before realising that’s where his lukewarm sardonicism is destined to take him. Although I’m not entirely sure if I believe the stories I’m reading anymore. In fact, I’m starting to dream up conspiracies whereby the Daily Mail has fabricated stories in a feeble attempt to try and humiliate the thing they love to hate the most. No, not Northern-Labour-voting-teachers… but the BBC.

Yet, it is not a dream, for the BBC must face the consequences of having let such savages slip through the net. However, whereas Fleet Street got the steely-eyed Lord Leveson, the ‘Beeb’ have to deal with the wrath of someone from the National Trust!

So don’t expect an end to this mess anytime soon but do make sure to look out for the likes of Jonathan King, or indeed a John Peel-shaped poltergeist lurking about Stourhead. Alternatively, if you’re lucky, you may even catch a glimpse on Lundy, so how’s about that then?!

 

D.I.Y Diagnoses

It’s sad to admit, but our 21st Century society has become nothing short of a bevy of neurotic hypochondriacs… or should I say cyberchondriacs. Alas, for I speak of internet diagnoses!

For years when people had health problems a simple appointment with their doctors would suffice but now (oh how things have changed!), now we speak of our GP’s with a wave of fear in our words. “Go see a doctor!”, they’d say – what used to be nothing more than 4 words of simple encouragement has turned into a phrase of dread, as if your loved ones have turned against you, summoning you to the dark depths of hell!

Phewy chop suey, it was just a dream! But it isn’t, it’s reality. So what do we do (well, I say we, I mean most men…)? We decide to take matters into our own hands and diagnose the problem ourselves. That’s right, instead of confiding in someone who’s had years of medical training we decide to google (other search engines are available) the blooming thing so as to allow everyone to see several pages of ‘testicular pain’ filling up your history like some sort of nightmarish shopping list! I mean, why oh why do we assume that for some barmy reason we’re going to find:

  1. the correct diagnosis
  2. the diagnosis we want to hear
It’s ridiculous! Especially seeing as though none of the above ever, ever occur. You go to look for explanations to the pain in your knee only to discover that you’ve got a rare case of kneelusdownus-toomuchius, which if not treated properly you could lose the bottom half of your leg! Likewise, your neck feels sore every time you turn it… diagnosis? Only the unlikeliest of problems – disagreeingitus, which apparently if not looked after in the right way you could spend the rest of your life neither agreeing nor disagreeing with things!
One day you’re well… next day you’re under the weather… day after that and you’re worm food.
So if you wish to stay healthy then visit the Doctor and not Jeeves!
(Told you other search engines were available, it’s just up to yahoo to decide which one’s best!)

The Sin of Socks & Sandals

Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every 6 months – Oscar Wilde

Never have I ever seen a more horrendous sight than the ankles of a man sporting socks with sandals. Crime against fashion I

Sinful socks & sandals!

hear you cry? Yes, but surely it’s a crime against social decorum! I mean, who on earth ever believed that such a bizarre concoction should have the right to create amazing results? The sort of results that have women swooning at the mere sight of a man’s bottom half stepping off a bus; or have them rushing over to an escalator to see their hideous combination slowly being unveiled like some sordid prize on a quiz show… No, no, NO! No one, surely no one believed this could ever be possible, so why even try it?!

Only a small minority would think this, to spend that extra amount of time rummaging through their drawers looking for the most repulsive pair of white socks – as if drawing attention to yourself is a good idea! What is more, they agonise over trying to achieve that perfect S&S look – sock colour? Check. Sandals colour? Check. Sock height? Check. The latter is the one that really gets me. I assume that, if the measurements aren’t perfect and you’re sock doesn’t grip your shin about half-way up, you’re not allowed to gain Saint of the Socks and Sandals status (or, as we like to call them here at wordpress.com – St. S&S). Indeed one must earn the right to join such a clique through hard work and dedication… but most importantly – terrible fashion sense.

Admittedly, wearing socks with shoes does have its benefits (albeit only 3):

  1. Socks help keep your feet clean, protecting them from dust and moisture (although toe-fluff isn’t exactly the nicest thing… unless you’re throwing it at your enemies)
  2. Socks stop your shoes from rotting like old apples (no one likes rotting fruit)
  3. Socks make nice puppets (everyone loves a good ol’ sock bunny)
Nevertheless, surely this doesn’t justify wearing them with sandals. I mean, can we not make an exception to the law here; break the shoe-shaped mould; sacrifice our feet for the benefit of the bigger picture? When I meet people on the street they’ll agree with me that the few remaining renegades need ousting – people hate them (the S&S not necessarily the wearers)!
So, I guess it’s no surprise that such an abhorred practice, performed only by anti-social dorks and 1990’s Dads alike, is slowly starting to die out…

… or is it?! Duhn, duhn, DUHHNN!

Top 5 Reasons Why This Season Was One Of The Greatest…

Phew… it’s over! As the curtain falls on God’s greatest creation, we can all take a moment to breathe, a slight hiatus to all us to regroup and reflect on what has been a truly remarkable season of football. From chickens draped in flags of protestation to grown men chaining themselves to goalposts (...with handcuffs of protestation) it’s hard to think of a more dramatic season. However, I’ve managed to narrow it down to 5, and here they are…

5. Conquered Catalonia (and Neville’s Orgasm)

As Chelsea marched through the gates of the Barcelona Empire, they knew that, despite winning the first battle, the war was not over. An army of 18 strong men, laden with armour, swords and shields strode onto the grass and refused to move an inch. Chelsea took the first blow going 1-0 down before their leader, self-proclaimed ‘Commander of Monogamy’ shot himself in the foot as he looked to flee from the supposedly sinking ship (…these wartime metaphors doing anything for you?). Another goal would inevitably ensue until… what’s this?… a moment of Brazilian brilliance (minus the cockney input of Lampard) made it advantage Chelsea! Barcelona were stunned into silence – in fact, the only things heard were the dulcet tones of John Terry’s Barking accent as he tried to seduce Di Matteo’s wife in the stand (by the way, all this is fictional… so please don’t sue Zoe).

Yet, suddenly, the crowd were awoken again as 2nd in Command, self-proclaimed ‘Executive Officer of Playacting’ caused a player (I don’t remember who exactly, ok?) to tumble in the box. Penalty Barcelona, Penalty Messi, Goal Messi… but no! Denied! Would they ever find that 3rd crucial blow or would this continental battle turn into a war of attrition?

To cut a long story short, they didn’t find that goal that would’ve sealed their ticket to Munich. In fact, I’ll show the moment when Chelsea finally slew the dragon courtesy of the most unlikely of knights…

(P.S. Gary Neville’s climax at the end is worth being on the list alone however I thought it would be fitting to marry the two)

4. Super(cilious) Mario

Now, I know it’s not a very rare sight to see arrogance on a football pitch – deary me, it’s full of overpaid children puffing out their chests, spreading their peacock feathers while carrying around the latest brand of STI’s, however one man takes the mickey. OK, so it can’t be certain that he has syphilis (Jennifer Thompson didn’t spill all) but what can be sure is that he shows as much (if not more!) chutzpah than one of his biggest fans – Liam Gallagher. Some might say he’s arrogant, some might say he’s hilarious but we can all agree that he is good value for money (if you’re willing to pay £22 million for a children’s entertainer!). From scoring goals with a shrug of a shoulder to promoting firework safety (days after having burned down his bathroom with… a firework), he’s provided all we could have asked for in a player! If I’m honest, I sure am going to miss his mercurial talents if he leaves next season!

Oh, did I mention that he can’t dress himself?

3. Papiss: Prolific and Prodigious

13 goals in 13 games – who says that winter transfer signings struggle to settle? Well, whoever it was must be eating their words after what has been a truly remarkable demi-season for this spectacular Senegalese. As Demba Ba’s goals slowly started to dry up, Cissé stepped forward and has delivered some great performances. Forget that he can’t speak a word of English, forget that his neck is longer than a giraffe’s, this man has been a welcome addition to the Premier League. Not only does he score goals but the manner in which he does is a joy to behold… so much so that I think we should let his goals do the talking. Show me the ocular proof!

2. City Cheer While Sir Alex Sobs

Should I watch the City game or should I just wait until Match of the Day’s on later?” Thank god I made the right decision!

Going into the last game of the season, Man City knew that a win over relegation-battling QPR would see them clinch their first title in 44 years, regardless of what their neighbours conjured up on Wearside… but nothing is that simple is it? As the blue moon rose in the mid-afternoon, everything was going swimmingly until disaster. Man City found themselves 2-1 down early in the 2nd half and, despite being a man to the good (courtesy of Joey Barton doing his best Rambo impression to confirm that he has the worst haircut in the league…). However, in an attempt to emulate what Chelsea did in Barcelona, QPR dug in and wouldn’t lie down. Like dominoes stuck to the ground with extra-strong superglue, they refused to self-destruct until… until… deep into ‘Fergie-time’ Man City found the breakthrough they needed, most importantly, twice.

I don’t even support them but, on hearing the final whistle, I erupted into a state of pandemonium as I couldn’t wait to see the smiles on the smug faces of messieurs Rooney and Ferguson being duly wiped off. In a matter of seconds Man Utd had gone from securing a 20th title to, possibly, witnessing the start of a Blue Revolution – and that’s the beauty of football!

Have Man City broken the Manchester Monopoly or will United recover and come back stronger next year? Either way it’s going to be an exciting prospect for the future!

1. Muamba’s Miracle

“I asked God to help me… and he didn’t let me down.” – Fabrice Muamba 

Therese Neumann, Joseph of Cupertino, Jesus… people, certainly in the 21st Century, are sceptical about genuine miracles, attributing such events to coincidence or luck. However, I think we can all agree that, what happened with Bolton midfielder Fabrice Muamba truly was miraculous. “I am walking proof of prayer” – indeed, regardless of whether or not we were affiliated with a religion, everyone was praying for Fabrice.

78 minutes – that’s how long he was ‘technically’ dead for, so to come back, without even suffering repercussions, is incredible! What is more, it brought fans together. No longer were rivalries relevant, indeed relegation seemed a mere, insignificant dot, for one man had stared death in the face… and lived to tell the tale.

So, as what has been a wonderful season (it certainly has had its fair share of ups and downs!) closes on us for another summer its easy to forget the bigger picture sometimes. Indeed, the most spectacular part of the year was not what happened on the pitch, but what occurred outside. Football is more than a just about a 90 minute game, it’s about building a community and, through the support shown for Fabrice, it certainly has got a lot stronger.

(P.S. If I’ve missed a favourite moment of yours, please feel free to comment underneath! Thank you and good night!)

Unsent Letters: The Weatherman

Dear Weatherman,

Admittedly, I’m not a fan of clichés so it will come as a bit of a surprise that I’m blaming you for the supposed ‘spring’ we’re having. Are you taking the piss or do you wish to create a nation of drowned rats? Therefore, in protest, I have decided to boycott summer since I believe it will amount to nothing but heavy showers, gale force winds and the re-releasing of Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ – so off into hibernation I go!

Yours truly (pissed off),

Albert Winestain.

You’re Never Too Old For A Teddy!

Timeless Teddy

As heavy eyelids meet under darkened skies, a melancholy leg hangs down from my headboard. Brushing gently against the wood, his hirsute ears stay motionless… listening but never responding; a muted friend, safeguarding me from the nighttime’s unseen mischiefs. As a ticking radiator groans, arousing the watchman’s attentions, my peepers have long been fastened… secretly concocting fruit-flavoured dreams behind closed doors. While elves use up their reserve tank of niceties and fairies run low on magic, my friend sits peacefully, wide awake, devoted to the cause.

They don’t mind if their work goes unappreciated – glory wasn’t part of the deal. Quietly and subtly they get on with the little things. However, like fundamental bricks forming the base of mankind’s most staggering architecture, they’re needed. Man can’t live without water just as much as they can’t live without such creatures, for no bed is the same with a bear-shaped-hole in its pillow… they’re part of the furniture aren’t they? Besides, why break something that doesn’t need fixing…

4, 9, 14, 23, 39, 47, 58, 62, 71, 80… You’re never too old for a teddy… or 3!

(P.S. mine’s called Cyril… what about yours?)

Unsent Letters: Barack Obama

Dear Barack,

I’d like to thank you personally for not beating about the bush.

But answer me this. Why is that, in an age of such awe-inspiring technological advancement, people are happy to retreat into shades of grey? It should either be black or white – ambivalence and ambiguity don’t find answers, only more questions… and, while Politicians and World leaders alike dilly dally, carving out Neanderthal toys with rudimentary tools made of flint and wood, the important issues are often over-looked.

It’s the 21st Century, not the 18th. If we claim to strive for racial equality, if we can recognise that there should be parity between men and women, then why can’t we eradicate homophobia?

Let’s hope that, for civilisation’s sake, your words of honesty and assurance can start to make the world a better place.

Many thanks,

Albert Winestain.