Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Bontempi Pusher Exposed

Apparently, Hashim Thaci, Kosova's prime minister has been dealing in organs and drugs.

I think the authorities need to interview Keith Emerson!

Friday, December 03, 2010

Winter Wonderland Woe

Yes, it's a Stolen Snowman

Contains the quote:

"It ain't a nice road but you don't expect someone to nick your snowman."

Thursday, December 02, 2010

Hygiene Warning

Forget Wikileaks: I can reveal that that new guy in HR, you know, the lanky streak of piss with the wayward hair, well, I can reveal that he was in the lavvy having a dump, and then came out and left WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS: Dirty Bastard!

Hopefully, I'll not be introduced to him, and will therefore avoid the embarrassment of refusing to shake hands.

And whilst I'm talking about Wikileaks: where does this leave the conspiracy theorists? Surely, the controlling state will have stopped this? Or is Wikileaks a hoax set up by the hegemony to make us believe that they are not omnipotent? Or did it never happen at all, like the moon landings?

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Meet Your Local Sniffer Dog

Starbucks in St Pancras station has a neighbourhood board!

In the era of paranoia, I thought it was quite fitting that they're introducing us to the four-legged frontline in the war on terror.

Meet the gang:

Trampled Underfoot

In the wake of the student demonstrations against increased college fees, and the presence of (rather photogenic) schoolgirls in particular, the Metropolitan Police are concerned about the youngsters' well-being.

According to a strapline in a paper on the tube:

Met claim school kids' safety in danger from Demo


Err, actually, I think you'll find that they're more in danger from being baton-charged by police on horseback!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Cowboyds Anandians

Apparently, at some point in history, the organisation for which I work had dealings with the Association for Anandians.

No, I never heard of them either. Wikipedia informs me that they are the old boys of Ananda College , a buddhist school in Sri Lanka.

Et Alia, Wikipedia provides the following fact:

1891 November: C.C. Jayatissa, who was Anandian, was the first Sri Lankan to pass the Cambridge junior examination in the German language.


It also publishes the school song, which appears to have been written by Kurt Schwitters:


Anandai anandai anande ada anandai

Samma sambudu sugatha thatgatha sambudu pilimaya abiyasadee Kelesun Duruwee Athyugalesadee

Anandai anandai anande ada anandai

Silgath thani sudu nelum kusum lesa, pehedi, pibidi pirisindu wee Munidun namadimu ath yuga hisadee

Anandai Anandai Anande ada anandai



Now, if only I could have gone to a school like that.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Up North

Yes, after a gruelling weeks I get a weekend away in York.

It was like visiting an Alan Bennett theme park:

“We’re Europeans” I heard one lady exclaim “we’re just not designed for that kind of food!”.

The Prophylactic Pontiff

Now that the Bachelor of Rome has decided that it's OK for Catholic male prostitutes to use condoms, I was wondering if it's now OK for his Colombian constituents to continue using them to transport cocaine in the traditional fashion?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

"Hey Baby, Can I Fill Your Tank?"

French parents had brought unnecessary embarassment to their daughters by going to to court to stop Renault calling their new runaround the Zoe.

They even went to the lengths to employ some sort of pervert to represent them.

Their lawyer:

argued that all of France's thousands of Zoes could be affected, with playground teasing and, as they grow older, comments in bars such as "Can I see your airbags?" or "Can I shine your bumper?"



Yeh, thanks a lot.

Renault won.

Monday, November 08, 2010

Borstal Boy Breakout!








I don't know what was happening on the other side of this door, and I don't WANT to know.

I can reassure my listeners that I moved on swiftly, and didn't look back!

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Friday, November 05, 2010

The Dirty Old Man Cometh

My colleague has just returned from lunch, and as the lift was about to descend, found his progress stalled as an elderly man stopped the closing doors with his walking stick.

"I'm sorry," my colleague informed the octogenarian "but this lift is going down!".

"Don't worry son," quipped the aged lothario "I always go down first!"

What a guy!

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Victor Sparkles Pop Quest: Chill Out With Mingus!

Did you know that children's favourite Pingu the Penguin was originally named Mingus?

Mingus the Penguin wore sunglasses and a pork pie hat, and inhabited a "cool pad" at the north pole, where he "hung out" with a picaresque collection of beatniks, misfits and loose women.

Unfortunately the name was dropped when the family of Jazz Trombonist Charley Mingus opposed the use of the brand.

In their objections, they cited Mingus the Penguin's substance abuse, bohemian lifestyle and indifference towards social propriety.

"Let's face it," commented a spokesman "the portrayal was a clichéd interpretation of the jazz scene, and a frankly disturbing misrepresentation of the natural world, presenting both environments as feckless, hedonistic and degenerate!"

After ranting for some time, the spokesman concluded: "actually, this isn't really anything to do with Charley's legacy. Let's face it, he's dead, and probably couldn't care less what this animal gets up to, but we feel that it's important to let the world know that penguins are a hard-working social species with little use for extravagant and hedonistic individualism. This show is nothing more than anthromophism gone mad!"

The dispute continued for some years until the project was quietly dropped, only to be rediscovered by younger, trendier, up-and-coming TV execs inspired by the opportunity to broadcast low cost programming with little need for be creative themselves.

However, by the time the penquin scripts reached the filming stage, "Pingu" had not only been renamed, but divested of his louch accoutrements and sanitized for the modern audience, with little more than an appetite for fish.

Pingu is said to be the late Margaret Thatcher's favourite television programme.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Pervy About Protective Clothing?

Then try Spain, where the prostitutes are now wearing hi-viz jackets !

It's the law: you want to work on the motorway, you have to wear compliant safety gear.

Fit for Purpose.

Monday, October 25, 2010

London Fire Brigade to Strike

Yes as the news breaks that the capital's fire-fighters are to strike on Bonfire Night, the ShoeBox has an exclusive interview with a man in a helmet:

"Actually, we're all a bit scared of Bonfire Night, on account of all those fires, and the added risk of all those fireworks, so we voted to avoid it this year. I personally don't like all that banging!"

He then added:

"Also, if we have to go out fighting fires, then we have to interrupt all the other jobs that we normally do to bring in further income whilst we're not really doing anything. You know, in the vast spaces of time between incidents, now that we live in an age where Health & Safety legislation has outlawed many of the traditional sources of ignition. And let's face it, there's only so many cats a man can rescue, without it looking suspicious!"

Then our spokesman yawned, pulled his blanket back up and resumed his afternoon knap at the switchboard.

If only Guy Fawkes knew what he started!

No Fun For Go-Go Go-Getters

As listeners will know, the ShoeBox loves nothing more than lawn-mowing in a mini-skirt and clogs, whilst blaspheming at the well-fed stray cats in the garden.

Well, if I was in Italy THAT WOULD BE A CRIME

"Centre Right" Mayor Luigi Bobbio, (yes, right out of central casting) of Castellammare di Stabia (no, I never heard of it either) seeks to ban miniskirts, sunbathing, playing football in public places, and blasphemy!

The BBC goes on to point out:

"In other places they have banned sandcastles, kissing in cars, feeding stray cats, wooden clogs and the use of lawn mowers at weekends."

There is no indication as to whether Mayor Bobbio is just a lonely misantrhopic Ogre who just hates the thought of other people having fun.

Editorial: Actually, to some extent the ShoeBox is with him on the miniskirt issue.
Naturally, I like to perv at the leggy young lovelies just as much as the next man, but there seems to be no quality control, and leggy loveliness is a finite commodity.

Have you seen the state of some of them out there?

I say, put the controls in at the point of sale.

A discerning gentleman could be employed at each boutique, to discriminate (and it IS discrimination) as to who gets to wear what.

He could also provide advice like: "I say, have you thought of modelling? I have my own photographic equipment you know, and I'd be willing to waive my fee", or "you've got a lot going for you, but come back when you've lost ten pounds!", to the frank, but necessary "sorry darling, but I think you'll find Mrs Ahmed down the market sells a burkah in your size that might spare us all the grief!"

But will they allow this? Of course not, it's political correctness gone mad!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Fat Tuesday

There is discontent in the North this morning with the news that the bus service is being slowed down by the weight of the pie-loving drivers!

The bus company have had to take drastic measures and are attempting to get a couple of the porkers to lose weight .

Apparently they exceed the 20 stone limit* , and have to be greased and shoehorned into their compartments.

(* About average size for an American).

The unions have organised industrial action, but have voted against marching as that would be too much like exercise.

"Why do you think I became a bus driver in the first place?" a spokesman said. "Where-else can you get out and about whilst sitting on yer arse all day?" before adding: "Are you going to eat those chips?"

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Farewell Old Friend




















My partner paid about 25p for this beauty in a car boot sale circa 1989, and it received extensive use in her bathroom for the next 15 years, until she moved in here and the appalling signal rendered it unusable.

We're a digital household now.

However, such was its appeal, that it's taken her 6 years to let it go to the tip.

I have to say, as we drove away, I had to pretend to have dirt in my eye, such was the wrench.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Mision Cumplada

As you know, I'm the last person to trivialise the plight of the Chilean miners, but I can say that I have suffered in an underground hell myself.

I was once stuck on the underground in a carriage with a man who was on his way to the international body-odour olympics.

OK, that was an assumption on my part, but I'm telling you, my money was on him to win gold! Put it this way, he was the kind of guy who never totally left a room!

Anyway, I'm not one to complain, but we were stuck in that tunnel with old stinky for two, maybe three minutes. I never thought I'd see my loved ones, or possessions again!

And what support did we get? No counselling. No visit from Il Presidente. We certainly weren't given the opportunity of live global TV coverage followed by short-lived celebrity.

Life is cruel like that.

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Lost Playhouse
















Open House at Alexandra Palace reveals a theatre that has lain dark for 80years.

Pope is Cinema Villain Shock

Appalled as I am about the state visit of the Pope, and the way we seem to have allowed the papacy an opportunity to whitewash the outrages of the church, I take comfort in the fact that the Pope has an accent from the "evil-German" school of pronunciation.

As in: "Zere iss no use in scureeming, no von ken hear you!"

PT Barnum's Premier League Circus!

State of the national game update:

I was disappointed, although sadly not suprised to see coverage of the Man Utd v. Liverpool game yesterday. On scoring against Utd, Britain's most over-rated footballer ran to the corner gesturing to someone to come to him, and one would imagine that it would be a colleague for whom the goal meant something special.

No, it was the cameraman that he beckoned.

In what was so clearly a staged manouevre with the broadcasters, Gerrard prostituted himself with such vulgarity that there is no longer any doubt that Premier League football is merely Murdoch's bitch.

They're setting up their own iconic moments for fuck's sake.

Showbiz!

Friday, September 17, 2010

Sign of the Times

When I saw the BBC headline, Prince qualifies as rescue pilot. I have to admit that it didn't quite tally.

I mean, how would the Minnesota midget minstrel reach the pedals? Would there be room on board for the rescuee amongst the entourage?

Silly me; it's actually about a real prince in Wales, south of Liverpool!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

At Last: The Nobby Styles Collection

Toothless sixties football icon Nobby Styles is selling it all off , although the dentures are conspicuous by their absence!

Monday, September 13, 2010

Jungle Boogie

As a young man in Poole in 1977, one only had to walk down the high street in straight jeans and a short haircut to draw enough attention to yourself to get a beating.

Fashion was such that decisions to stand out, re; clothing norms, dyed hair etc, had to be considered beforehand in consideration for the social opprobrium that it may elicit. (And I remember my friends mother taking a fit of the vapours on returning from the supermarket where she had seen a man shopping IN SHORTS!)

Youngsters these days, (now THERE'S a phrase!) genuinely have no idea what that meant. I imagine that there are still locals around the provinces that go out of their way to take exception to an individual's attire, but I suspect that's arbitrary, and not in the same vein as the witch-hunt knee-jerk of days gone by.

I mention this, as living in a time where the lines have well and truly become blurred on the apparel front, where it is insufficient to don a studded leather jacket and boast a blue mohican to expect it to be read as a statement.

Imagine my surprise therefore to be confronted by the sight of a young black guy moving through Kings Cross this morning in an enormous Afro. Now that was a stand out statement, and certainly not a everyday occurence. Well done that man! Hurrah!

Cue wah wah pedal and Soul Train dancing!

Friday, September 10, 2010

Another Experimental Disappointment

Alas, my perceived success at achieving a cloak of invisibility has been proved a disasterous failure.

Apparently, people have just been ignoring me.

Sadly, I didn't find out until a complete stranger walked in and said "why are you wearing that stupid cape, you wanker!"

And to think that it was remarks like that that drove me to my experiments in the first place.

I am now working on a "colleague-atomising death-ray".

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Social Services: Latest
















Honestly, you would not BELIEVE the paperwork involved! A bureaucratic NIGHTMARE! Really!

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

London Transport Strike: Latest


















Is Bob Crow man enough to face the animal lobby?

Come on Morrissey; do your thing!

Never In The Field Of Human Conflict

As the unions on the underground celebrate the anniversary of the blitz with their own form of strike on the populace, I successfully struggled in, only to be confronted by another retro action at the coffee kiosk, where I was SHORT-CHANGED!

It's like the 1970s out there!

Not that the little shit got away with it! (And it wasn't a mistake; he looked like he should be wearing a tee-shirt with "Dodgy Git" written on it.) I demanded my money and got it.

Then on arrival at work, I discovered that he'd failed to put sugar in it. He asked "do you want sugar?" I said "yes". It is not difficult.

Mind you, it did give me the retro satisfaction of stirring my coffee with a pencil, old stylee, which was comforting. I felt like a 1940s government scientist.

Monday, September 06, 2010

Please Lead Me To Your Car

We were discussing driving tests, and a colleague was telling me of her first.

"It was a really windy day, and as we went to get into the car, the guy's toupée flew off! I was laughing so much I couldn't control myself, so the guy just refused to carry on. I didn't even get my money back!"

Ah, authority figures, they were the days!

Friday, September 03, 2010

Living In The Future: Again!

OK, so the Royal Mail just released its new interactive stamps which can be read by your iPhone using the Junaio application to launch a video, or web data pertinent to the theme:

According to the BBC*:

Those viewing the stamp, part of the Royal Mail's latest Great British Railways edition, via the Junaio app will be directed to a short film showing Bernard Cribbins reading Auden's famous poem The Night Mail.


OK, maybe Bernard Cribbins is a bit of an anticlimax considering the paradigm shifting nature of the venture, but this has to be A GOOD THING, at least for the short period before advertising and Rupert Murdoch get hold of it and ruin everything.

At Last, Some Good News!

Although I am naturally delighted to see the BBC headline Guns & Roses Bottled Off-Stage , one must consider that it is has come 25 years too late!

Thursday, September 02, 2010

Victor Sparkles' Pop Quest

Shaken, Not Stirred!

Did you know that Welsh King of Rock 'n' Roll, Shakin' Stevens (real name: Herbert Burbidge) was actually performing under the name of "Shake-It Stevens" prior to his atmospheric rise to fame in 2001?

Shaky's name was changed at the insistence of his management once the singer had turned professional and headed towards international stardom.

However, details are vague regarding the origins of the original moniker.

"There are, of course, lurid and scandalous rumours," responded his agent, Murray Munt, "none of which have any foundation in the truth."

Shakey's former guitarist Owen Owen-Owens was also willing to defend Shakey's reputation. "Yes, back in the working men's clubs, I heard it said that he'd take the old fella out and shake it about to capture the miner's attention. I have to say that I never saw him do such a thing; although I did once see him use it to stir his coffee with, but I suppose "Stirring Stevens" doesn't have the same ring!"

We asked to speak to the social secretary of the Grim Valley Miner's Club about Shakey's appearances, but he remained tight-lipped, and refused to take part, although he did comment:

"Look boy, it was a long time ago, things were different back then, and the miners were a close group with their own customs. Shakey understood that. Now if you don't mind, I have to rod this lavatory!"

Fans will be delighted to hear that Shakin' Stevens will be appearing in pantomime at Bognor this winter where he will play Baron Hardup opposite Sinitta as Cinders and Souxsie Sioux as the evil queen.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Jackass: The Final Frontier












Adventurous? Money to burn? Possible mental health issues leading to rash decision making?

Why not let the Danes tie you to a chair at the top of a rocket and get blasted into space?

Yes, those crazy vikings are using the latest intercontinental ballistic missile technology, where there used to be a deadly warhead, they'll being putting YOUR HEAD!

Yes, your head will stick out of the end of the missile so that after you briefly witness to wonder of the universe, before you get to watch the Baltic Sea approach at terminal velocity!

Doesn't the EU have some sort of Social Services department to look into these things?

Old Compton Street: A Statement

I would just like to confirm that yesterday on my way to a evening out I found my self momentarily crossing Old Compton Street in London's Soho.

At no point did I stop in Old Compton Street, or converse with anyone, and no "visits" were made to any of the establishment thereof.

I merely entered Old Compton Street from the south, traversed east for fifty yards, before exiting to the north one minute later.

I merely confirm this to put paid to any gossip that I was seen in Old Compton Street last night. I was, but not for long enough for anything untoward to occur.


Soho Update: the poseurs of Soho were out in force last night, as the dry weather and low, eye-piercing sun, created the perfect conditions for standing out on the pavement with one's SUNGLASSES ON! Most of them weren't even smoking!

BBC: Northerners Are All Drunks

Well, I suppose it must be official: a survey provides comprehensive proof that our friends in the north are plastered !

Now, I'm not a scientist, but I have witnessed this sort of thing first hand, and I have met, or even KNOWN many people from the North West (proven to be the epicentre of intoxication), and I can only agree that my findings also indicate that they are largely just a bunch of harmless inebriates.

Explains a lot come to think about it.

(Note: I can confirm that I originate from one of the most abstinant areas, so there!)

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

We're Living in the Future!

According to the Guardian, doctors no longer need to carry a stethoscope as they can now use an iphone app !

I'm impressed, but I do have reservations.

"OK, Mrs Jones, if I can just check your breathing"

ERR, ERR, ERRR; ERR, ERR, ERR-ERR, ERR, ERR, ERRR, ERR-ERR! (Smoke on the Water)

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I have to take this, my brother-in-law's getting me tickets for the Rugby!"

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Underworlds


























Another mention of TfL's ability to get it right on the artwork front, as the tube map gets to interface with it's art-world tribute, where the tube map gets to feature Barbarah Kruger's Untitled (Tube Map).

I think this synthesis of reality meeting its conceptual reflection may even represent a work of art in itself. Or not. I'm sure there's someone working in a gallery somewhere with a independant income and expensive yet impractical spectacles who could tell us in multi-syllabic verbiage what it all means, but life is too short.

And let us not forget that Simon Patterson got there first with The Great Bear

Dead Spook News Sparks Digression

It probably says much about my own small-town chippy judgementalism, but my first reaction to the news of the mysterious death of an MI6 operative in Pimlico was not "Whoa! Conspiracy Theory!". Rather, my first response was to wonder just how much MI6 operatives get paid if they can afford to live in Pimlico! (Although I appreciate it is only two minutes away from work across the bridge, just in case Mr Bond needs immediate back-up).

A Tale:

One evening twenty years ago, having successfully pursued and arrested the man who had just stabbed me* around the plush streets of Pimlico, I stood there panting away watching the police load my assailant into the car. Running around whilst haemorrhaging blood gives one a cruel thirst, and so I asked the nearest officer if she had any water.

Using her initiative, she called up to one of the audience members on the balcony above, and asked if they could bring water down to me. (That the homes in that neighbourhood have balconies overlooking the streets tells it's own tale).

When the water arrived, a woman conveyed it to me on a delicate little tray and contained within a beautiful crystal glass tumbler, I thanked her, and with my good hand (the other was stemming the Niagara of blood emitting from my face) emptied the contents in one draught.

I then turned to the policewoman and quipped: "You know you're in Pimlico; that was Perrier!"

Although the two events could not possibly be linked, I think it is becoming apparent that Pimlico's sophisticated facade conceals a heart of darkness which requires independent investigation.

I think we should be told.

*The perpetrator believed that the world was being controlled by gasses eminating from vegetables.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Did You Know....

....

That Wyatt Earp was teased at school for having a stupid name?

That nurses in Accidents & Emergency wards ALWAYS check the condition of a new patient's underpants on arrival?

That fish have no appreciation of celebrity culture?

Monday, August 23, 2010

Friday, August 20, 2010

Parrot Fashion



























A masterpiece from London Transport.

And you just know that when they finished, they stood back and said "Classic!"

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Olfactory Attack!

I believe that the following transaction took place at some point in last few days:

Fishmonger: Good Morning madam, how can I help?

Customer: Hello, do you have any particularly smelly fish please?

Fishmonger: Yes, but smelly cold, or smelly hot?

Customer: Oh, hot!

Fishmonger: I've got just the thing! Have a whiff of that!

Customer: Blimey! That's the one!

Fishmonger: Excellent. How do you intend to cook it?

Customer: In a microwave. I'm going to put it in a microwave at work!

Fishmonger: At work? Is that a good idea?

Customer: Oh, it'll be fine, it's open plan!

Fishmonger: Open plan? But surely...er,

Customer: Yes?

Fishmonger: Oh nothing. That'll be £3.50 please. Can I interest you in some Winkles?

I make this assumption, because a repeat offender has just GASSED out our floor YET AGAIN!

A disciplinary offence, surely?

The Drink / Drive Interface

Exciting environmental news!

Scottish scientists are running cars on whisky by-products!

And no expensive engine adjustments!

Monday, August 16, 2010

Tan Your Hide!

Not a 70s Movie title, but an actual company working in the Midlands, meet: Wildman & Bugby

Apparently, they are 3rd generation family leather specialists!

Blimey.

Note: In the fiction of Ian Fleming, John LeCarré etc, British intelligence ran a number of bogus businesses around Great Portland Street as a front for their covert activities.

When I worked locally, opposite the tube there, there was an unassuming doorway with a brass plaque purporting to be "The British Rawhide Co." Now THAT is a front if I ever saw one.

My Life In Her Hands

I believe there are some readers of this site that share my partner's dereliction of common sense when it comes to sell-by-dates on food stuffs.

When one considers that she is actually a trained caterer, I find her frankly cavalier attitude to expiration-date russian-roulette somewhat, er, cavalier!

There has been some debate in our household recently re; the capacity of our fridge, and whether we should spend real money on buying a larger receptical.

I am of the argument that we could first consider whether everything in the fridge should be there, and whether she may want to finish one bottle of wine before opening another.

Anyway the opportunity presented itself yesterday to execute a fridge audit, where I examined the contents unit by unit to establish each items validity in the precious cold-space.

I admit that I only found seven items beyond their date stamp, and that I was unable to convince her that one of these items, the most recent, a jar of mayonnaise dated June 2010, should be thrown. It has since returned to the fridge.

Now, as I consider mayonnaise as salmonella in a jar anyway, I won't be going near it. However, there in lies the irony, neither will she, due to her belief that a salad is a worthy but pointless exercise.

I will therefore need to wait another year before I get to eject the toxic hazard from our midst.

As for the remaining six items, the top three were:

In third place: Anchovies; Feb 2008

In second place: Discover Salsa dip: December 2004

And finally in first place, from the twentieth century:

Safeway Red Onion Jelly: March 2000.

Yes, it's been out of date for a decade now, and she's brought it from her old flat, via my old flat to the house we moved into six years ago!

This is what I have to live with.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Baby Beavers!

As I awoke this morning with the steady drone of the Today programme, and it's blah, blah, Pakistan Floods, blah, blah, Double-Dip recession, blah, blah, Torture, blah...I suddenly heard the phrase "Baby Beavers"!

Yes !Baby Beavers! Born in Scotland for the first time since the Hibernians slaughtered them all 400 years ago. How can anyone not like the thought of Beaver Babies? You would to be some kind of drug-pushing paedo-sympathising terrorist, or Highland farmer, not to be heartened at the news of Baby Beavers!

However, don't get too carried away. A Beaver Kit is actually just a Baby Beaver, and not an opportunity to build your own Beaver. Apparently that's God's job.

So congratulations to Mr & Mrs Beaver, and good luck to your Baby Beavers

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Blind Man's Bluff

As regular listeners know, I am not an angry man.

However, there are certain circumstances when I am driven to feeling peeved.

Yesterday evening, after a long frustrating day on my way home from work, and having waited four minutes, a train EVENTUALLY arrived, and fortunately a sufficient number of passengers alighted the carriage to provide a choice of seating.

One of those leaving the train was a tall skinny young blind man with a Hoxton Muff, white wayfarer shades and stupid jeans. Like most young men of his age he looked like an idiot, but at least with the visual impairment there were extenuating circumstances.

As I boarded the train, I was looking at the choice of seats when I heard the sartorially challenged blind man on the platform ask "is there a member of staff available?". I turned and noticed that he was being ignored as he asked for a second time.

As the doors bleeped in advance of shutting, I sighed a resigned sigh, stepped back off the train and asked if I could help.

"Yes," he replied, "Can you fetch a member of staff?"

I admit, I felt perfectly qualified to steer the unsighted tramp-boy to the exit, but I dutifully agreed to seek out assistance, and set of on my task.

There was no-one available on that platform, or the other, so I scaled the escalator to the main concourse where the staff like to hang out by the gates. No-one.

I looked across to the new office, where they live. SHUT DOWN! And they've only just OPENED IT!

I swiped myself through the gates and walked around the ticket hall where I finally found the one member of staff working during the rush hour at Kings Cross.

As expected, he was completely indifferent, but at least mumbled into an intercom in response. Whether he was talking to anyone was not my business, and I swiped myself back in.

After berating some tourists for standing on the left of the descending escalator, I eventually made my way back to the platform to inform my ward that help was on its way.

Nowhere to be seen! The pikey little chav had FUCKED OFF out of it! GONE! He didn't even leave a message with the hordes now awaiting the next train, with whom I would now have to compete for my rightful seat!

No doubt some fat ugly tart with a husky voice exploited his impairment and lured him away on a promise, which is frankly unethical and the sort of thing that should be outlawed. They were probably standing on the left of some other escalator at the very moment that I discovered the treachery!

I hereby vow that they haven't heard the end of this!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

In Drogba We Trust

Yesterday I was intending to link to this article by Richard Williams in the Guardian, summing up much of what is wrong with the over-blown status of our under-performing Premier League performers. There is a trend, started in France, of reigning in the attitude displayed by the aristocracy of the modern game, starting with the banning of headphones when on club business:

"But in England as much as in France, those headphones are a signal of the increasing distance between the players and the people who, through match tickets and satellite TV subscriptions, pay their grotesquely inflated salaries."


Having looked at the article online, I was drawn to the imbecilic comments made by the readers, in FAVOUR of the players. Nothing unusual there, but it did indicate that Rupert Murdoch's faithful have bought into the programme hook line and sinker.

They have seen the adverts, and our new icons are beyond fault, because the adverts say so, and the game itself is a mere sideshow to the dream being sold.

I wanted to write an enormous tract using phrases like "false conciousness" and "Stockholm Syndrome", but I lack the time.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Behind The Green Door

On walking to the tube this morning, I was hailed across the street by an unkempt working man in a dirty white van. He egressed from his vehicle and asked;

"Is this the only Cumberland Road around here?"*

"Yes" I replied, confidently, although unsure if this was true, as we had not defined the terms of the discussion, particularly in regard to the volume of area regarded within the term "around here".

On hearing this he confided: "I can't find a number three".**

I looked at the house numbers, which were consecutive along the one side of the road. He was parked outside number one, which was next to number two. Number two sat next to an unnumbered house, which sat between number two and number four. Number four was next to number five. There was a clear pattern emerging.

"Number three is the green one!" I deduced, with a Holmesian authority, and pointed at the green house between number two and number four.

The fellow looked at me, looked at the green house, and back at me again. He clearly believed me, but he couldn't quite figure out how I could tell with so little available information.

The words arse and elbow came to mind.


Note: what he actually said was:

*"Ziss sonly Cumbland Row 'rand 'ere?"

**"Ah carn finda numba free!"

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

"My Neighbour's Girl Is Good At Art!"

Long before clip art deluded computer users into thinking they were creative, there was "talented relative" art.

You know; "don't spend all that money on a commercial artist; our Eileen can do that for a fraction of the price!"

The cheaper press, and budget company brochures tended to sport the poorly executed, and suspiciously remedial depictions that could only feature on Tony Hart's wall if they were doing a mental health special.

Yet here we are in the brave new improved and informed future, yet it still raises its mediocre head. This monstrosity appeared online, for an insurance company that certainly isn't wasting your premium on advertising. (I think the message is; pay up and we'll keep this thing away!)

I'm not a fascist, but there should be a law against this sort of thing. It's the Britain's Got Talent approach to design, and it's wrong.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Eurostar Tea

















So you've had a lovely time and you're on your way home, and you fancy a nice cup of tea.

This is EXACTLY what you get on Eurostar for £1.80.

Half a cup.

I have not spilt any, or drunk some, this is ALL you get.

Not only that, but THEY WONT EVEN PUT THE TEA BAG IN FOR YOU!!!

£1.80, you get handed half a cup of hot water and a tea bag!

You have to PUT THE TEA BAG IN YOURSELF!!!

£1.80!

PARIS


























Voltaire















Two Chairs















Anyone's Guess

Monday, July 26, 2010

In Brief

Off to Gay Paris (not that there's anything wrong with that).

In short Toy Story 3 v. good, as is the BBC's Sherlock Holmes with Benedict Cumberbatch.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Lord Nelson SE1 0LR


















Yes, it looks like every council estate pub* you've ever driven past. It is in fact a FANTASTIC pub within walking distance of the Old Vic. Trash sixties kitsch, with calypso music and excellent burgers. Barmaid is VERY easy on the eye too. I'm going back, and often.


*Back in the 70s, our nearest rough council estate pub was the Double Six, where I did occasionally visit, but only with locals (sort of native guides).

One evening I was elsewhere at gig, and was introduced by some middle class boys to an old grammar school friend of theirs from who was supplementing his living at the bank by setting himself up as a "mobile discotheque".

He was raving how he'd only just put his advert in the paper, and had already captured a gig, which was paying £5 over the odds, at a pub in Turlin Moor.

"The Double Six?" I enquired.

"Yes!" he enthused.

"Er, you do know that's where the barman had his ear bitten off?"

"Oh, they say that about all these places"

"No, but it was on the front page of the Echo. I know people who were there, the Double Six is not a pub to do a disco, that's why it pays so well; no-one else will do it!"

"No, that's just apochrypha! When you go to these places, they're never as bad as it's made out!" he responded with fantastic faith in human nature.

"I take it that you are not familiar with Turlin Moor" I asked.

"Look, you really need look at your own prejudices. This is just a class thing."

I left him to it.

Several weeks later, at another gig I met him again.

"How was the Double Six?" I enquired.

"Oh!" he reacted. "Yes, the Double Six!" as though recalling six months on a pirate ship out of Jamaica.

"I went in there at six (opening time in the 70s) and the landlord was really nice. He fetched me a pint on the house and showed me where to set up in the lounge."

So far so good, but once established, and alone in the lounge he decided to venture into the public bar to seek company, only to experience the traditional bar silencing moment, as the locals turned to glare at the stranger.

"I went to the bar, and the barman had a HUGE wadge of cotton wool taped to the side of his head!" he recounted in horror.

On realising that he faced the recently earless barman, he began to panic.

There was a seemingly harmless old fellow at the bar.

"Excuse me; am I safe in here?" he asked in his best posh lamb for the slaughter tremble.

"Yeh," replied the veteran, "just as long as you don't look at him playing darts; he'll 'ave you!"

Our naif glimpsed across the room at a Neanderthal slamming darts into a dartboard as though into a rival's face.

He concluded "I did the gig, put the kit in the car and drove away shaking!"

"The landlord keeps phoning offering more work, and I'm running out of excuses. I've told my mum to tell him I'm out!"

Bless. They were the days!

Note: The last time I was in the Double Six was August 1976, where Paul Foden, just home from London in his straight tonics and plastic sandals told us tales of "Punk Rock" and the gobbing phenomena that was the Sex Pistols.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

C60 Made In England!



















Yes, it's back to the analogue files.

This one looks like it should be in the footwell of a Mark III Cortina.

It even features real metal screws at the corners!

Although the text to the left suggests some John Peel show, it actually features some live gig recording from circa 1979!

There is SO much more where this came from: boxes of it!

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

Notradamus Of The Black Lagoon!

Mein Gott: the German's secret weapon appears to have turned on them.

Yes, the Telegraph has gathered intelligence upon the Fatherland's uncannilly accurate molusc Paul the psychic octopus!

Only wrong the once!

Friday, July 02, 2010

Sweepstake Day

























Yes it's the big day for my sweepstake teams!

Actually, I've never cared for either of them, but £50 is £50.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Studio 54 All Over Again














On espying this at the hospital the other day I thought "My God, they've got a DISCO!"

On investigation it was no such thing, but one simply HAD to ask!

Greenwich

And to the observatory, which is still free, before the Tories punish us again.

First: Harrison's 4th clock: the one that solved the Longitude problem (as detailed in Dava Sorbel's excellent history of that name) which allowed Britain to become the greatest naval power in the world for two hundred years, and thus build an empire etc.


























Secondly; a rather poignant comment amongst otherwise dross:


Monday, June 28, 2010

Capello To Discuss Future With FA

Apparently, England's Italian supremo is sceptical about the pace of DNA research, believes that it's too early to write off the European Union, and is surprisingly upbeat about the introduction of flying cars by 2050.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Electric Hotel

















London's biggest secret at the moment is Sadlers Wells' installation at the back of Kings Cross, where one can sit on wasteland with wireless headphones to watch Requardt & Rosenberg's magnificent installation Electric Hotel.

I went back the next night to photograph it, and was amused by the rubberneckers driving past on Goods Way, slowing down in confusion, unable to see the audience or hear the score, but witnessing what appears to be a real hotel, only with UNUSUAL BEHAVIOUR going on in it.

One such vehicle, full of working class men, paused before one of them bellowed: " That's some weird fucking shit!" before burning rubber as they sped away to avoid contamination.

I took that as an indicator of the event's validity.

Great fun, great art, and now on tour.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Market v. Common Sense

I have long been jaded re; our Hallmark card culture where the masses are only too complicit in enriching the marketers of anything that can be sold under the guise of social celebration. Birthdays; Valentines; Halloween; Christmas; Easter; Weddings; Pregnancy; Births; Deaths; Graduation; Bank Holidays; Operations; Overthrow of Colonial Oppressors' Day; Your First Recession, whatever. There is now a card (read; sales opportunity) for any occassion, even occassions that didn't exist 30 years ago.

And it's no longer cards; it's wrapping paper; teddy bears; trinkets; t-shirts; mugs, in fact anything that you can screen-print, transfer or stitch onto.

It's not so much the ubiquity that I find so offensive, it's the unthinking obedience to the market that I can't bear.

I mention this, as I have just stood FOREVER behind a stupid woman at a checkout who took an UNFEASIBLY long-time to buy five items with a series of cards, and then tried to open a plastic bag with one hand because in her other she held a silver balloon on which was printed:

Happy Father's Dad!


It wasn't ironic, and the spelling actually didn't matter because she probably never even read it. After all, neither will the recipient, who, after feigning pleasure at the offering, will let it rest against the ceiling until whenever a female of the family will eventually tire of its presence and dispose of it.

No-one actually CARES about this stuff, because they feel nothing; but such is the devotion to the commercial pressures, nobody wants to be seen NOT doing it.

It's not as though anyone asks "Why have you wasted money on this shit? Is that all you think of me? Fuck off with your cheap gestures, get out of my house, I disown you; GO!"

No, the spelling doesn't matter because it's the shallowness of the sentiment and easy profit that counts.

And so our enemies soften us with cheap filigree, and thus weaken our defences for the day that they launch their war machines against our enfeebled race to certain victory; and thus our enslavement is completed!

Be Warned.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

They Think It's All Over!

It's odd to be quoting the Radio 4's Today show's Thought for today, but earlier this week, a faith-based commentator rather succinctly linked the England fan's support for their national team with Oscar Wilde's remark about second marriages, in that both are the victory of hope over experience.

Having witnessed last night's debacle v. Algeria, I think is safe for the England team to confirm their status as the Newcastle United of international football.

Language!

I once worked at a reprographics site of corporate photocopier provider (whose name is the generic name for a photocopier), and worked with the most sweary man I ever worked with.

He was one of those fuckin' geazers who couldn't fuckin' get through a fuckin' sentence without fuckin' swearing.

One night, he came indoors after having a fag and, commenting on a recent delivery of printing consumables, announced: "There's a CUNTIN' load of paper aht there!"

Now that is professional swearing at its best.

I thought of him tonight when I heard an Irish cussing enthusiast at the bar regale his friends with tales of his recent trip to the far east, featuring "that fockin' cockroach in fockin' Koi Sumui!"

Fucking Ada, what a cocksucker!

Friday, June 18, 2010

Fuhrer Is Guru Shock

It's an interesting lunchtime. They're finally sorting out the lavatory blockage, and the useless plumber with the ponytail has managed to make the entire building stink like a seaside gents: with hilarious consequences!

Meanwhile, the BBC reports on the growing popularity of Herr Hitler amongst Indian youth.

Includes the quote:

"The killing of Jews was not good, but everybody has a positive and negative side."

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Market v. Democracy

I appreciate that this post is 26 years late, and the arguments have been had, but I think that after all this time we should be able to do something about it.

I'm not a fan of advertising or the commercialisation of society, and I'm reluctant to support any campaign, but I am willling to be amused by ambush marketing, and particularly in the context of our brave new world's willingness to allow Mammon to buy our sporting jamborees.

The Bavaria brewery's low-budget / high impact lager ladies campaign has to be applauded if it highlights the vulgarity of sovereign nations allowing themselves to be bullied by the global corps into legislating on their behalf. Legislating!

According to the Daily Telegraph:

South Africa introduced legislation to provide protection for Fifa's sponsors, who have paid an estimated $1.2billion to be associated with the tournament. With sponsors providing a third of the revenue from the event protection is seen as crucial to maintaining the value of the rights. The UK has introduced similar legislation to protect the 2012 London Olympics.


To think that South African has only recently shaken off the totalitarian hand cuffs, I think it insane that they should be so keen to re-adopt them so freely.

We took our eye off the ball: We think we're fighting Big Brother, but it's Big Mac that's dictating who the dissidents are, and instructing our courts what the charges should be.

Shouldn't we be able to vote against this?

The World Turned Upside Down

I'm a tolerant man, as you know, but.

I've just been downstairs, and, on looking into the living room, witnessed the following:

To my right; an ironing basket, untouched. In ironing board, in place, with an iron in position at readiness.

To my left; my partner on the sofa watching Top Gear.

She didn't even look up.

Top Gear I ask you.

I mean.....

Top Gear!

There was football on the otherside for christs sake!

I'm come back upstairs to compose myself before taking it further.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Dear Director General

I once worked with a young woman from New Zealand whose accent was so extreme that she actually talked out of the side of mouth, contorting her lips to the right in order to do so. You had to stand next to her to hear what she said.

I remember her solely because of the way she hated Britain. She hated everything about the mother country, but what she hated most of all, she hated the weather. And she felt that the weather was clearly the fault of the Britons.

I am reminded of this on the news that the BBC has received 545 complaints about the vuvuzela, the idiotic and insufferable novelty horn which is ruining the World Cup.

Like the weather, the vuvuzela has to be someone's fault, and who more appropriate than the BBC?

I didn't pay my licence fee to listen to a bunch of hottentots impersonating an oversubscribed moped rally!

Come to think about it, I didn't pay my licence fee!

Mary Whitehouse, where are you when we need you?

Monday, June 14, 2010

World Cup Opinion














Although I am failing to engage in the Brand-fest in South Africa, I have glimpsed from afar.

Two observations; Robert Green has received a pasting for his goalkeeping error, as expected, yet the press seem unable to comment on Gerrard's tendency to pass the ball square to the opposition just outside the England box. He's been doing it for years (and lost us the game against France in Euro2004) but such is his golden boy status, he remains untouched. He did it twice against the USA, who were mercifully unable to capitalise. That won't be the case against the real teams.

And talking of real teams. I've never been a believer in the nonsense that it's OK to scrape through ineffectually in the early rounds, as you have to save yourselves for the big games. The fact that England always scrape through and then FAIL to get further than the quarter finals proves a point.

Now watching the Germans last night: they went three nil up and put another striker on! Then they got a forth and put ANOTHER striker on.

That, gentlemen, is a statement of intent.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Sans Paroles






















So we barrel out of the pub and over to the bus stop, where we have a seven minute wait for the next one, and I decide to pop into the offy for a couple of cans.

On the way in I see this, but damn it, I've forgotten my camera. I buy my cider and discuss to the resurgence of Forlan with the offy man who is pre-occupied with the France v. Uruguay. I'm on my way out, when I ask if he minds if I nab the Beaver poster.

Without taking his eyes off the game he laughs and says "Yeh"

Which leader, and which beaver is anyone's guess.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Now Wash Your Hands

I was at the urinal this morning, when I heard rustling, a flush, the click of a cubical door from which a chap emerged.

So far, so ordinary, but what happened next disturbed me.

At the sink, the man from trap one rolled up his sleeves, filled the sink with hot water, doused his hands in liquid soap and proceded to rigorously 'scrub up' with considerable persistance as though preparing to perform open-heart surgery on an immunity-deficient child.

I don't know what had just happened in that cubicle, and I don't want to know, but I do know that I won't be shaking HIS hand any time soon.

Disgusting

Sunday, June 06, 2010

The Unda Wunda!









































Another week, another exhibition.

Greenwich Maritime Museum has a exhibition of Toy Boats , but the use of 'toy' is deceptive.

These are beautifully crafted works of art which a wonderfully evocative of a past era.

Notably, many of the exhibits represent some form of educational value, of how ships were built, or how they functioned. Yes, back when we MADE things rather than just bought things, we taught our children how the world worked.

But who needs that when you've got Britain's Got Talent?

Friday, June 04, 2010

The Trial, and Other Woes.

A rather Kafkaesque moment this afternoon.

Seeking a place to read a tedious document, I found an unoccupied meeting room in the old building. It's a large oak panelled chamber, with a large ovoid table and many chairs, which before the war would have been full of chain-smoking town planners plotting against the tax payers.

It is now actually a pleasantly cool space to work in relative quiet.

Ten minutes into my sojourn, a strident middle-age women with an eton crop marched in around the table and stood opposite me, where she barked out "Hate Crime!"

I was a little taken aback, until it occured to me that the room was probably booked for a meeting, and that I should leave.

As I did so, a group of retro-lesbians arrived, enquired "Hate Crime?" then looked me up and down, mentally castrating me, before brushing me aside and slamming the door behind them.

Now that hasn't happened for a long time; I felt almost nostalgic.

Surveillance: British Fauna Fights Back!

We humans may be sleepwalking into a surveillance state, but the animal kingdom is having none of it!

When would-be Stasi recruit Julie Worsley attempted to snoop on her local Badger sett, the resourceful brocks organised, and in an act of collective action, destroyed the machinery of the state in a glorious effort to free themselves from the yolk of oppression.

They then resumed their tradition way of life of steeling clothes and spreading TB to cattle.

Note: there's a fox near us who is often seen out in daylight. As a nocturnal creature, how do we know he's not sleep-walking?

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

Our Finest Hour?




If the Daily Telegraph web site is to be believed, Dunkirk was some kind of olfactory nightmare.

Didn't tell us about that at school!

And Take Your Paperclip With You!

A week after Microsoft is perceived to have fallen behind Apple on the stockmarket, what could be a body blow is delivered by Google which may (or may not) believe that Microsoft Windows is too flaky to trust!

We all know Windows is shit, but the functionality at those prices has always pursuaded the majority that the crap is worth putting up with.

However, this may not last, as the corporate world may be beginning to realise the long term benefits of using a professional computing solution.

Apple's dominance is based on its lead in must-have products, not on computer sales, but Google's decision may well mark a watershed in Microsoft's domination, as a trend towards more secure operating systems can only undermine the House of Gates.

Fingers crossed, Eh?

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Protein Threat: Latest



























Took a trip to the revamped Museum of London.

Imagine our joy to see this on display!

For those that don't know, a chap called Stanley Green toted this sign along Oxford Street for decades, handing out pamphlets estolling the virtues of abstinence in the face of proteins. For Mr Green, proteins wrought nothing but a torrent of filth.

I'm sure he'd be pleased to know that his message lives on in public, just next to a Legalise Pot banner from 1967!

Hollywood Babylon:






We've all been suspicious of Peter Pan, and I have no doubts about what HE'S up to these days; but Tinker Bell?

Look at her!

Buy this Belle a drink, and she'll let you Tinker with her alright!

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Micky Flanagan




If you can, listen to Flanagan's What Chance Change? one of the funniest and most intelligent programmes currently on Radio 4

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Suicide? That's Not In Your Job Description!

There's been discontent at the factory of Taiwan iPhone-maker Foxconn
where the staff have prone to a bit of suicide lately.

Apparently:

"the company has told workers to sign letters promising not to kill themselves"


What measures Foxconn plan to take against employees that renage on this agreement is not stated.

And to think that I work amongst people who think it's a bit much for the management to request that they turn up on time EVERY DAY!

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The Man in the Brown Rubber Coat?

I was sifting through CVs today, including one with the claim that the candidate had once been a "Latex Foreman".

I mean, REALLY!

Sunday, May 16, 2010

In Sickness and in Health, Until DEATH TO ALL HUMANS!

At a recent wedding, the not-too-happy couple were left wondering if they were actually married after a ceremony in which the vicar appeared to be so hapless that it was unsure if the nuptials were actually followed through correctly.

However, trust the Japanese to do away with any wedding day uncertainties with Robo Registrar

I suppose it alleviates the anxieties during the "and does anyone know of any impediment that would forbid this marriage? Speak now or hold thy peace!" bit of the show, as any potential interruptant would not want to risk being lasered into oblivion by the cyber-priest.

Which reminds me: Lasers are Fifty Years Old!

Saturday, May 15, 2010

New Dawn; Latest

Word from the cabinet is that things are settling down, and that sterling work is being done to address the nation's pressing issues.

However, head boy, Osborne, has been complaining about the influx of other boys, and their behaviour in particular.

"This morning" he told us "some of the new boys said they had some special binoculars that could show us a vision of the New Britain"

"When I looked through them I couldn't see anything, and when I said so the others just sat there giggling like there was something funny about it. I told them they were just stupid and they all burst out laughing and ran off!"

When asked about the rings of black ink around his eyes, Osborne appeared to be perplexed, before running off towards the dormitories, cursing.

Friday, May 14, 2010

And The Winner Is....

Things are moving apace in Lord David "Dave" Cameron's new improved cabinet, but there has been some dissent from his new best friend Nick Leg.

Westminster School boy Nick, who won his place in the cabinet on a TV popularity contest, is questioning the set up.

"When I entered the TV contest, I'm sure that the prize was being Prime Minister!" said Leg. "In fact, when I was going on, I was really nervous, but the lady with the clipboard said don't worry, just go out there and tell them why you want to be Prime Minister", so that's what I did."

"Anyway, when I got to number ten, "Dave" told me that he had already been to see the Queen, and that HE was the Prime Minister because the Queen asked him already, which is really unfair because his Mum and Dad already know her, and it's unfair because I won the TV contest!"

However, it does appear that the boys have made up, and are now inseparable, although it is unknown whether they have actually become blood brothers with a rusty pen-knife or something.

Politic experts are yet able to ascertain whether any of this makes sense.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Lord Snooty & His Chums: The Parliament Years

It's taken a week, but Britain's new government has finally sat down and started work with its first cabinet meeting.

However, things got off to an unsteady start this morning, as the gathering proved to be disruptive with the two sides attempting to settle in together.

"It was the boys from the other schools that started it" said Cameron's head boy, Osborne. "They were throwing bread rolls at David's top hat, trying to knock it off, which is just bad form, and certainly not Eton rules!"

Osborne attempted to maintain order but was frustrated.

"I even asked Matron to do something about it, but she just looked at me and said "I'm the Home Secretary you twat!"which was a little uncalled for, and I'll certainly get my parents to write to the Head about her."

"The problem is" Osborne continued "people don't appreciate that Eton chaps are born to lead. It's nothing to do with the fact that our parents are very rich and well connected, it's because we're just superior. I mean, look at how well Boris is getting on in London, and he's just a blithering idiot!"

As Osborne turned to re-enter to the room, which was a riot of paper aeroplanes, it became apparent that someone had attached a "Kick Me" sign to his back.

Political experts are at a loss to explain where this will all lead.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

BBC: Tories Are Evil; Fact!

According to the BBC, in a direct consequence of the the Conservative Party's coup Britain Froze Over in May!

OK, they don't quite spell it out like that, but note the dates: the last time it happened was under Tory rule in 1996.

As you know, the Shoebox is not biased, but it knows that it never happened under the thirteen years of labour!

It doesn't augur well. It'll be raining frogs next.

Election Latest

For our foreign readers, regarding our exciting new coallition government, a brief explanation may be necessary.

Basically, David Cameron, from elite boys school Eton, has pursuaded Nicholas Clegg, from elite boys school Westminster to be his Fag.

Expect High Jinks!

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Nude Latest: Turkey

First it was Volcanic Ash shutting the airports, now the leisure killjoy police want to stop us enjoying the first Nude Hotel in Turkey!

Admittedly, the hirsute Turkish nude is probably not to everybody's taste but come on, loosen up!

Friday, May 07, 2010

Notorious

On the day that Britain welcomes its first Green Party member of parliament, we alos get to read about the UK's Gay Marriage to End in Murder

Apparently, the convicted man;

admitted often beating up or trying to strangle John, 35, as a "means of relieving stress".


Come on, what's wrong with a glass of wine and a massage?

Thursday, May 06, 2010

Goodnight, And Goodluck

Nigeria's president has died, so meet their new leader:

Goodluck Jonathan

And in Nigerian politics, he'll need it.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Vote Wisely


























A chilling warning from the Evening Standard, spelling out the possible consequences of voting Eton on Thursday.

The sight of Mayor Johnson cycling around London in a body-hugging "action-tunic", able to evaporate the poorer citizens with nothing more than a haughty, disdainful squint would possibly be a step too far!

Mind you, I'm not sure that dispensing preternatural gifts is actually in the Prime Minister's gift?

Or have I got the wrong sort of Superpowers?

Maybe Dave has the post-war Soviet Union in mind?

Or 16th Century Spain?

Yes, that sounds about right; Boris in a doublet and hose, sending the poor to certain death as doomed mariners vainly searching for El Dorado.

Be careful where you put your tick.

Dear Diary

Despite the damp and cold, the Shoebox has enjoyed an extended weekend.

On Friday, my partner and I visited the Quilt exhibition at the V&A.

On telling a colleague as I left work the evening before, he looked concerned and kindly suggested that, at a pre-arranged signal, he could call me, claiming a "Civil Emergency " to get me out of there.

There was, however, no need for this, as the exhibition is rather excellent. However, as one of the few males present, and walking around separated from my partner, I believe that there was an assumption amongst the women folk that I may be a little "light on my feet".

Anyway, just to balance things out, on my way home I caught Kick Ass at the cinema. Rather wonderful, in a dodgy violence-porn kind of way.

Then home to watch UP. I have been told that unlike Disney, who test everything to death, Pixar like to trust their own judgement. UP justifies this stance totally, and should be considered a surrealist masterpiece, although the fact that it is animation and Hollywood it will certainly never be given the credit it deserves.

On saturday it was Ricky Gervais' Cemetery Junction.

A nice piece of verisimiltitude, if a little unfocussed, although Gervais' ear for a good soundtrack is found to be flawless.

Sunday: Pet food run, via Garden Centre.

Monday: to the tip, where the staff were flying a kite tied to one of the bigger bins. Wonderful.

This Island Breed

As we yet endure the winter that just won't leave, I wonder just who the swimmers were that the coastguard were rescuing in Devon yesterday?

According to my research, Devon had a temperature of 10° C, (50°F), with a Northerly blowing to add the appropriate level of wind-chill to suggest that it was not a day for the beach.

Can I reassure readers that I grew up next to the English Channel, and I can reassure them that it offers a cold swim even in July/August.

Therefore, May 3rd would not be my choice to start the summer. It would not surprise me to see some of those rescued were clutching on to ice-floes.

Yes, it's the Bank Holiday mindset: it's sunny, therefore it's summer. Shorts, sunglasses, short-sleeves and hypothermia.

It's the British Way.