A SQUIRRELS TALE

REST OF THE WORLD VERSION:
The squirrel works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building and improving his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks he's a fool, and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the squirrel is warm and well fed.

The shivering grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

THE END

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THE U.K. VERSION:
The squirrel works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks he's a fool, and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the squirrel is warm and well fed.

A social worker finds the shivering grasshopper, calls a press conference and demands to know why the squirrel should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others less fortunate, like the grasshopper, are cold and starving.

The BBC shows up to provide live coverage of the shivering grasshopper; with cuts to a video of the squirrel in his comfortable warm home with a table laden with food.

The British press inform people that they should be ashamed that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so, while others have plenty.

The Labour Party, Greenpeace, Animal Rights and The Grasshopper Council of GB demonstrate in front of the squirrel's house.

The BBC, interrupting a cultural festival special from Notting Hill with breaking news, broadcasts a multi cultural choir singing "We Shall Overcome".

Ken Livingstone rants in an interview with Trevor McDonald that the squirrel got rich off the backs of grasshoppers, and calls for an immediate tax hike on the squirrel to make him pay his "fair share" and increases the charge for squirrels to enter inner London.

In response to pressure from the media, the Government drafts the Economic Equity and Grasshopper Anti Discrimination Act, retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The squirrel's taxes are reassessed.

He is taken to court and fined for failing to hire grasshoppers as builders for the work he was doing on his home and an additional fine for contempt when he told the court the grasshopper did not want to work.

The grasshopper is provided with a council house, financial aid to furnish it and an account with a local taxi firm to ensure he can be socially mobile. The squirrel's food is seized and re distributed to the more needy members of society, in this case the grasshopper.

Without enough money to buy more food, to pay the fine and his newly imposed retroactive taxes, the squirrel has to downsize and start building a new home.

The local authority takes over his old home and utilises it as a temporary home for asylum seeking cats who had hijacked a plane to get to Britain as they had to share their country of origin with mice. On arrival they tried to blow up the airport because of Britain's apparent love of dogs.

The cats had been arrested for the international offence of hijacking and attempted bombing but were immediately released because the police fed them pilchards instead of salmon whilst in custody.

Initial moves to then return them to their own country were abandoned because it was feared they would face death by the mice. The cats devise and start a scam to obtain money from people's credit cards.

A Panorama special shows the grasshopper finishing up the last of the squirrel's food, though spring is still months away, while the council house he is in, crumbles around him because he hasn't bothered to maintain the house.

He is shown to be taking drugs. Inadequate government funding is blamed for the grasshopper's drug 'illness'.

The cats seek recompense in the British courts for their treatment since arrival in UK.

The grasshopper gets arrested for stabbing an old dog during a burglary to get money for his drugs habit. He is imprisoned but released immediately because he has been in custody for a few weeks.

He is placed in the care of the probation service to monitor and supervise him. Within a few weeks he has killed a guinea pig in a botched robbery.

A commission of enquiry, that will eventually cost £10,000,000 and state the obvious, is set up.

Additional money is put into funding a drug rehabilitation scheme for grasshoppers and legal aid for lawyers representing asylum seekers is increased.

The asylum-seeking cats are praised by the government for enriching Britain's multicultural diversity and dogs are criticised by the government for failing to befriend the cats.

The grasshopper dies of a drug overdose. The usual sections of the press blame it on the obvious failure of government to address the root causes of despair arising from social inequity and his traumatic experience of prison.

They call for the resignation of a minister.

The cats are paid a million pounds each because their rights were infringed when the government failed to inform them there were mice in the United Kingdom.

The squirrel, the dogs and the victims of the hijacking, the bombing, the burglaries and robberies have to pay an additional percentage on their credit cards to cover losses, their taxes are increased to pay for law and order and they are told that they will have to work beyond 65 because of a shortfall in government funds.

THE END

My box of white plastic fun has arrived!

Stormtrooping!

Well I've decided - I'm gonna be a Stormtrooper! A 20+ year ambition and last week I thought "f*ck it you only live once". So I'm researching all the diff types of armour at the mo then I will raid my ISA and go for it. I've joined the UK Garrison web forum and what a friendly bunch they all are, offering tons of help and advice about choosing armour. They travel the country and attend LOADS of cool events, such at the Star Wars Celebration day in London, May 2005 - how cool is this!





"What a Geek" some say, "Get a life" - oh ok, so tell me that travelling all over the UK meeting TONS of people, getting your photo taken everywhere you go, and being invited to all the coolest meet-ups, premiers, promotional events, and Sci-fi days isn't having a life?? OK then I'd best go back to a boring hobby such as aerobics............

Will keep you posted on armour-buying progress!

B17 sunset

by jfharley

A gorgeous pic from my friends at The Collings Foundation in America, click to enlarge.

IDIOTS

Jeeez what a day first off, the new departmental website I built and uploaded on Tuesday had several "issues" that had to be straightened out, and some bigwig was ranting about how it may have lost us potential student applications due to broken links. Hmmm so if a website link is broken you can't pick up the phone and say "your website is broken can I have postgrad application details please?" Not that it's an excuse for broken links though, but still - I *doubt* it would have put people off .

I worked like a trojan sorting all the issues out and didn't have my lunch hour, added to that zillions of emails popping up that were duly ignored, and the constant stream of Undergrads with their endless questions. Argh!

Once all issues were resolved and everyone was happy I left early to compensate for no lunch break. I get to my bike and some ****** has nicked my bike pump. Well I hope their life is richer now they didn't have to spend £6 at Halfords to buy their own, instead *I* will have to spend £6 to replace it.

Then I hit the cycle path. Big green painted path with big CYCLE symbols on it. And there are people walking on it, despite and empty path right next to them, which is where the humans walk. They see me coming, and they don't move, they keep walking straight at me, as if I should get out of their way and go onto the human path to avoid them.

By now I am steaming so I ride towards them, expecting them to finally move. Which they do - by about an inch, tutting loudly as I skim past them. Oh I'm sorry, YOU walk on the wrong path and tut at me for not getting out of your way?

So I get onto the main road and grind to a halt waiting for the traffic to let me turn right, which nobody does for about 5 minutes, such is the rush of their busy lives. One utter plonker in a shiny Chelsea Tractor with the back full of kids, driving with one hand and talking on his mobile, whizzes past my right side so near I feel his wing mirror on my coat sleeve. Meanwhile other cars are whizzing past my left hand side as I start to fear for my life and hope that at least ONE motorist can spare 15 seconds of their lives to slow down and let me TURN. Which one finally does, who I reward with a nice wave.

Carrying on down the road a black Mondeo zooms past me, decides she wants to turn left, slams the brakes on and starts to turn, only just stopping in time as she realises I'm screeching to a halt behind her, missing her bumper by about an inch. As I turn the air blue with frustration she starts waving her arms and screeching "come on then!!!!" at me. Oh I'm sorry once more that YOU are a Numptie of a driver and don't care that I nearly rammed into the back of you and injured myself and my bike - I do apologise it's all my fault..........

I finally got home in one piece and mad as hell at the sheer stupidity and ignorance of people today.

I need a whiskey........

Welcome to MySpace

Why is MySpace so popular? It's hideous!!! Awful layout, difficult to customize, garish and untidy, yet everyone goes ape over them. So, being shameless and wanting to promote Fuzzbutt, I have created a Fuzzbutt MySpace at www.myspace.com/fuzzbutt_uk. Check it out!

I've disabled band websites from adding themselves as my "friends" as it's bollocks, they aren't a friend they just want to plug their band. I dont want to be on a page with 10,000 other "friends" jsut cos he wants to plug his death metal band (yes I was actually added to 10,000 others from one band). I just want Fuzzy owners who can swap pics and stories about their mice, ferrets, chins and rats - and erm, hopefully buy some of my products too *cough*.....


As a PS - "Frankenrat" is doing fine, stitches healing well, bright and chirpy all the time, just pissed off about being separated from Winston in a crappy smaller cage....bless!

Frankenrat

Spare a thought for my poor rattie Franklin, who at 11 months old, had to have a tumour removed yesterday. Despite the tumour being about 2", the cut on his back is almost 3 times that. Frankenrat!

I'm pissed at the vet because a week ago she told me it was a harmless cyst and not to worry and bring her back in a week, but during that week it morphed into a full-on tumour. THe earlier you get these things the better it is :-( so now there's a chance that another lump could regrow, despite them saying they got it all out.

Unfortunately rats are predisposed to get tumours, it's just the way they are. I feed mine good food and brocolli (anti-cancer superfood) most days, but that did bugger-all to protect poor Franklin.

He slept most of last night and was obviously feeling the pain, despite being drugged to the hilt - was a bit perkier today so I'm hoping he won't chew or scratch his stitches out. The cost of the operation was £83, most of that was the cost of all the anaesthetics and drugs used. My friend says I'm mad and that I should just "wring his neck and buy another for a fiver" but he's worth every penny. However if he does get another lump I won't put him through this again and it will be off to the rat cage in the sky when the time comes :(

What rubbish

Unbelieveable news yesterday that one local council had reduced it's binmen collections to once a fortnight, and was then fining anyone £100 who put extra bin bags out with their over-stuffed wheelie bins.

Residents have complained that their wheelie bins are already smaller than the average bin, and fortnightly collections are forcing them to put extra bin bags out. Then they get fined for doing so!!!

Why has our Government suddenly gone rubbish-mad? We now have chips on our wheelie bin lids, detecting their weight and how much litter we throw out each week - and you get fined if you don't recycle enough. Rumours abound that some families will be charged an extra £10 a month for the privilege of having the binmen collect their rubbish, and others face fines of up to £20,000 for putting their rubbish out on the wrong day, it was revealed.

I mean FFS HELLO?????? Our country and indeed the world is going to shit with wars and higher taxes and unemployment and immigration and teenage murders - issues FAR MORE IMPORTANT than litter?!?!?! Yet we are getting anal about our wheelie bins.....yes, wheelie bins are such a priority over spiralling military costs and innocent soldier lives lost in Iraq.

All these latest stupid fines will do is make more people fly-tip, and our countryside and neighbourhoods will start to overflow with abandoned binbags. People who take the time and effort to drive extra rubbish to the local tip themselves just add to the traffic on the road, and the global warming problem from car usage.

I agree litter and recycling is also important, but why aren't the Government hitting manufacturers and supermarkets, who insist on shrink-wrapping everything, or packaging it in numerous layers of clear plastic tubs and needless cardboard boxes? Did we ASK to have our brocolli shrink-wrapped, there is just no need! I bought a USB card-reader the other day and it came encased in a hard plastic shell - it would have been equally fine in a sturdy cardboard box that would at least rot down.

Tesco trumpeted the other week about how they are reducing the amount of plastic bags they use by 25% over the next few years, and how they were encouraging shoppers to re-use plastic bags (for the princely reward of ONE Tesco Clubcard point per bag re-used). OOOH HOW THRILLING. 25% reduction over the next TWO YEARS? Come on guys you can do much more than that and a lot quicker too.

For starters get over to www.biobags.co.uk and start getting them to produce your carriers, that rot harmlessley on a compost heap within a few weeks. Or simply start charging for carrier bags like ALDI and LIDL do, it's amazing how people will drag out old carrier bags rather than spend 10p on one at the checkout. Offering one measly clubcard point while still having checkouts full of free plazzy bags won't do ANY good at all.

ALL supermarkets need to change over to Biobags, or start charging - that's the only way a tiny difference will be made.

Luckily my neighbourhood seems to be free of the Wheelie-bin Police - for now....however when my bin was nicked a few weeks back I checked the lid of my new bin just in case there was a chip in it. If there had been I'd have bloody ripped the thing out.

Robbie @ Roundhay!

Well we got there at 9am and there were queus already. Got a good spot in the Golden Circle queue and when they opened the gates we bagged a spot RIGHT AT THE FRONT at the barrier, stage right. A FABULOUS night, great show and the RObster was about 3 metres away from us all night....ohhh the temptation!!!! We even got on Sky One for about 4 seconds ........

Oh Lindsay

Hollywood star Lindsay Lohan had a bag containing a reported £530,000-worth of jewellery stolen at Heathrow Airport.

Lohan reported the theft to police yesterday evening after noticing her expensive orange Hermes handbag had disappeared from her luggage trolley as she left Terminal One.

Er why on earth did dear Lindsay have £500k worth of jewellery perched on her luggage trolley? Why was it not in the care of her burly entourage, or even packed tightly in her large suitcases, which would have been harder to swipe than a Hermes handbag.

Airports are notorious for thieves swiping stuff off trolleys, if you turn your back for so much as 5 seconds. Miss Lohan should havea been a bit more aware. Hope she's insured, daft bint......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile in MadonnaLand, Mr Madonna Guy Ritchie is whingeing that he's sick of being "Mr Madonna". Friends say the adulation Madonna receives from her fans as she travels the world makes him feel like a "spare part". Says one: "He hates the idea of being Mr Madonna. He often finds himself sitting round bored, waiting for her."

DON'T MARRY SOMEONE AS FAMOUS AS MADONNA THEN. Specially when you are only a second-rate film director. Jeez where are these people's common sense????

Inciting hatred or "just a bit of fun"?

Take a look at these images:








Now, replace the world "boys" with either "blacks", "Jews", or "girls". Would there be an outcry if tshirts with these slogans attributed to blacks, Jews or girls were put on general sale? You can bet your boots there would.

So why are they allowed to be sold featuring boys? Why is it acceptable for boys to be vilified like this?

"Oh it's a bit of fun" say the manufacturers, and the parents who buy them for their little girls to wear. But would they buy the same t-shirt for their son if it said "Girls are stupid - throw rocks at them"? I think not.

We are now so mired in legislation for "inciting hatred and encouraging violence", why aren't the manufacturers up in court for their line of clothing, calendars and mugs that feature this artwork (among many other categories)? Why are we seemingly undoing years of women's rights and bleatings for equality, by publicly stating that all boys, and therefore men, are stupid/crap/not equal to us, indeed beneath us?

How many little girls in the playground will throw stones at boys because she's seen it featured on a t-shirt? Or throw dirt at them - or even a knife? Or taunt the shyest boy in the class with "stupid" taunts util he feels less than worthless?

Kids are easily led, and seeing pictures like this in the shops will make her think that behaviour like this is acceptable. (No doubt if she DID throw rocks at a boy and injure him, the school would not discipline her, or take a pussyfooted approach to discipline, as is the trend nowadays).

I feel sorry for men nowadays - they're being forced to revel in their feminine side, use moisturiser, cry in public, express their feelings, be more attentive to their women, find where the clitoris is, learn to cook, and pretty much turn into pansies. Now the younger generation of girls are being trained to think boys are stupid and deserve nothing but abuse. Great honey, that will snare you a husband in the future!!

I long for the return of the macho man who fixed cars, put up shelves, built a gokart for his son, went fishing, drank beer, and wanted his tea on the table when he came home. I fear he will never return, if he tried to he would be knocked back by the screaming PC brigade (all decked out in their "we hate boys" t-shirts).

This crap should be banned. And if you think I'm being anal then fine, write to the manufacturers and demand that they release the same lines featuring blacks, Jews and women. Hey, we need equality man!!

ROBBIE

Roll on Sat :D:D

Och the Noo

Off to Scotland this Saturday for a week, can't wait - my first holiday since last OCTOBER. Don't care if the weather's crap at least I won't be rotting away at my desk where, during the big summer term break, there is NOTHING to do. Which is great cos it's easy money but it can be so BORING - specially as I have so much Fuzzbutt sewing to do at home!

Here is my latest FuzzFilm, enjoy!



Was at V Festival last weekend, fucking fantastic weekend despite the 8 hour drive to get there, the traffic jams, the utter lack of Police traffic control, the mud mud mud, the hour long trek to find an empty campsite with ten tons of gear on our backs, the portaloos, the rain, and the insomnia due to partying cockney wankers next to our tent. RADIOHEAD ROCKED! Then we got to our car to find that some bastard had reversed into it while leaving the night before, put a huge dent into the front bumper, and driven off without leaving his details. Karma will get him....

Busy building an Empire

Not many posts of late as Fuzzbutt has taken off very well and I've been very busy sorting orders and sewing new stock. Last night I was introduced to Microsoft MovieMaker, and produced my very first Fuzzbutt Infomercial:



I also came across this video of two little hammies in their wheel, so funny I nearly wet myself :D specially when both of them are in there!



Enjoy folks!

War - a child's view

I saw this poem while visiting the 95th Bomb Group USAAF museum in Horham - it was in a book of "thank you" letters from a local school who had visited the base. Their teacher had asked them to write letters of thanks and a poem about what they had learned about WW2.

"I wish I was not on this plane, because I might not come back.
I wish I was back at home because I do not want to fight.
I wish the war would stop because people are dying.
I wish the bombs would miss because homes are being destroy (sic)."

What an incredible poem from such a young child - the name and age were not there but the writing told me it was a VERY young child. He /she wrote this poem after spending just one day visiting the museum, looking at the pictures, and hearing stories of the airmen who came to East Anglia over 60 years ago.

It applied to WW2 and also to today's wars. We should all take note.

The 14 worst corporations in the world

Read this report then BOYCOTT!

http://www.jakobo.net/14-worst-companies/

It's amazing that we call ourselves a Civilized World and we trumpet our advancements in society and engineering etc etc, and yet there are still atrocities being committed in this world by some of the richest and most powerful people who HAVE the power to do GOOD with all their profits.... :o(

Life and ruminations

Been a long time since I waffled about life, the universe etc on here....but on Sunday a display pilot from a nearby airfield crashed into the back garden of a house in my friend's village, and was killed instantly. My friend saw the crash from another old WW2 airfield as she stood on top of the old Control Tower. She saw the plane looping and turning and running through it's display, then she saw it spiral towards the earth, heard the engine cut out, then saw the black smoke on the horizon. Had that pilot struggled to steer away from the houses in his last moments of life on earth? In his terror of knowing what was about to happen, were his last thoughts of the innocent people below him?

How many times was this scene repeated over 60 years ago as American Airmen at that same WW2 control tower watched as their buddies in cripped flak-ridden B17s struggled to reach the runway but crashed and were incinerated alive - so close to home and safety.

Thinking about the unfortunatel pilot it was awful to think that on that lovely sunny warm day, he had woken up totally unaware that today would be his last day on earth. Eating his breakfast he will have talked about going for a flight, then maybe meeting his mates later on for a barbeque in the evening sun. He may have said bye to his family, expecting to see them later, and they won't have given it another thought - presuming that yes, they would see him later.

Every day we wake up could be our last day on earth, and we are blissfully unaware of that fact. Every day we wake up AT SOME POINT in the future may be the day earmarked for us to leave this earth - maybe in 20,30 or 40 years time, maybe in 6 months, 6 weeks, 6 days? This day in 50 years time I may gasp my last breath as an old woman....I wonder what day it will be?

I like to think that every life decision we make sends us off into another parallell universe, made entirely from the consequences of that one life decision we made. That our lives are like huge trees with many branches, each branch representing our lives depending on what decisions we did or didn't make...so many different outcomes, situations, fortunes or misfortunes. Like the movie "Sliding Doors" where we can see the two lives Gwynneth Paltrow leads, depending on whether she missed or caught a tube train.

How I'd like to climb MY tree and follow some of those branches and see other lives I could have led. What if I'd stayed in Hull? Married a previous boyfriend? Never come to Norwich? Never got that job or bought that house? Where would I be now? Would I have a superfantastic life, or would I be trapped in a spiral of despair? If I'd left the house to drive down the motorway just 15 minutes later would I have been involved in that pile-up, would I be dead? If I'd taken that job instead of the other job I may have met a fantastic guy with pots of money who whisked me off to live a life of luxury? If things had worked out with my Australian ex would I be destined for a warm and sunny life Down-Under? I'd just love to see.

I can trace my lifes progress right back to when I first went on the internet, with my poxy little 56k modem. The internet definitely changed my life.....thru the internet I joined various karting forums, and met new friends....through those friends I met my Australian boyfriend and moved to Norwich to be nearer him....through him I was lucky enough to travel to Australia 4 times and do some fantastic scuba diving and jetskiing, and swimming with dolphins. Through coming to Norfolk I developed an interest in the 8th Air Force and WW2 aviation, and through that I started the swing dancing and met a whole new circle of friends, including my current bloke. Through meeting him I've travelled to America and had a dream flight on a B17 bomber
and met dozens of USAF veterans, a rare privelige.

Now I am secure here in Norwich with a great job and a house, and plenty to fill my days and good friends to fill them with.

What would my life be like had I never gone on the internet? Where would I be now?? And as I wake up tomorrow will it be my last day on earth? As I cycle to work will I see the car coming up behind me? When I see those that I care for should I always show that I care for and value them, just in case I never get that chance again?

We shoudl maybe all stop taking life for granted.....

Can't even kiss a child now

This from the BBC News website:

A vicar has stepped down as a school governor after kissing a primary pupil on the cheek to congratulate her.

The Rev Alan Barrett, vicar of Tamworth, Staffordshire, kissed the girl in front of pupils and teachers because she had done well in maths. A church spokesman said a police inquiry found no offence had taken place, but the vicar was told to have no contact with the school. The current climate had tainted the innocent act with suspicion, he said.

An informal investigation conducted by the Archdeacon of Lichfield, the Venerable Chris Liley, found that formal disciplinary proceedings were not justified, the spokesman added. But the investigation did deem the vicar's behaviour as "inappropriate" and sought assurances from him that he would not do it again.

The diocesan spokesman said: "The conclusion that Mr Barrett had acted inappropriately is not a finding of guilt or negligence, but recognition that in today's climate, previously acceptable innocent behaviour is now subject to misunderstanding and suspicion.

"As the complaint and subsequent police investigation demonstrates, the simple act of a kiss on the cheek - a common greeting throughout the world - has potentially damaging consequences.

"The Bishop of Lichfield has written to the mother of the girl setting out the steps the diocese has taken and the conclusion of the investigation.

"He has explained that if the mother still feels that the conduct warrants a formal investigation she may lodge a formal complaint under the clergy discipline measure."

The spokesman added the diocese took child protection very seriously and had policies in place which all parishes were required to abide by.

Mr Barrett was not available for comment.

===================================================

So now it's offensive to give a congratulatory kiss? I mean I can understand if it was a lingering lecherous kiss or if his hands were in the wrong place, or if he hugged her for too long etc etc but WTF???? What next? Banned from shaking hands incase it offends??? Banned from asking a woman to dance incase she thinks being held too close during a waltz is offensive????????????

Fortysomethings aargh!

I went to a fortieth birthday party on Saturday - friend of a friend....I won't go into too much detail in case one of the comes across this blog :-D But HELL it was scary!

I discovered I'm physically incapable of making chit-chat conversation with Fortysomething couples. It's SO BORING. Is that because they can't really be bothered to make chit-chat with you, since you are only sharing a few hours together at this party then would likely never meet again?

They talk about washing machines, their kids, their kids, their houses, their TV, their work their holidays, so-and-so who went into hospital for that Thing with her hand......I tried to feign interest but I just couldn't. I wondered what they USED to be like before age, "settling down", kids, and being 40+ did things to them.

Then they ask a bit about me, and thus follows: "Hi I'm Rache, I keep rats, sew fuzzy furniture for them to sleep in, like whiskey, am starting fencing classes soon, learning Arabic, hate kids and my ambition is to own a Lotus".

*cue tumbleweed* I think the horror of me keeping rats shuts them down then and there, and nothing else I say will redeem me in their eyes.

They probably didn't realise I'm 34 either I don't think, such was the lack of cellulite, stretch marks, and child-worrylines on my forehead. Maybe I was just unlucky to come across a particularly boring bunch of people. But when they got some drink down them and hit the dancefloor it was at once excruciating and at the same time car-crash viewing. Cue lots of fortysomethings trying to a) dance sexy, b) dance in time to the music, while all the men did what Billy Crystal once called "the white man's overbite".

I did manage to have a good natter with one woman about SatNav though, but her eyes were dead as she talked - just chit-chat, I'll never see her again, she's sitting there looking bored so I'll talk to her.

So as my friends creep nearer to 40 will I be faced with endless parties like this one? Aaargh I hope not!

Garden improvements

You remember my garden about 6 months ago:


Well here it is now!!




Wildflowers for the insects






The ratties get some sun

Tons of foxgloves and other seedlings

Down with the WAGs

This extract from a DAILY MAIL article - how true!

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How depressing it is that the World Cup, which is supposed to celebrate football, should instead bring out so much that is ugly about our society. In their way, the antics of England's wives and girlfriends — the so-called WAGs — are every bit as disheartening as the glorification of Wayne Rooney. It is true that the media have done much to advertise this bunch of mostly peroxide-blonde, spray-tanned, silly young women.

Pity Baden-Baden, a delightful German spa town where English travellers used to stay in the 18th and 19th centuries on their way to Italy. This is the base for England's players and their WAGs, who are staying at the Brenner's Park. Last Saturday at around 10.30pm, diners at the hotel's Wintergarten restaurant were treated to a screeching rendition by the WAGs of 'We Are The Champions'.

They then went to Garibaldi, an Italian restaurant and nightclub, and the liveliest 'hotspot' in sleepy Baden-Baden. There, they ordered £270 worth of Moet & Chandon champagne, nine vodka red-bulls and various other drinks, and danced the night away. The total bill came to £450.

Elen Rives was particularly boisterous, climbing on to a bench to perform a riotous, reportedly somewhat uncoordinated dance routine. (This same Elen had launched a foulmouthed rant and had been escorted off her British Airways flight after being told she could not carry six items of hand baggage into the ClubClass cabin on the way to Germany.) At 3am the group subsided into the back of taxis to return to their hotel.

All this was too much even for Victoria Beckham, who remained aloof during dinner in the Wintergarten, and did not join the other girls at the club. Nor has Victoria thrown herself into shopping with as much abandon as the others, who have descended like locusts on Baden-Baden's shops, which have ordered in extra supplies of clothes made by Prada, Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, Dior and the rest. In a single hour on their latest shopping expedition, six of the WAGs are said to have spent £57,000 on designer clothes and shoes.

The German Press is aghast. One commentator observed that 'English women seem to treat their bodies as something to dismantle. The Germans in contrast want to preserve theirs.' Even the mass circulation, downmarket Bild Zeitung, itself no stranger to bad taste, is poking fun at the behaviour of the WAGs.

Meanwhile, some English commentators are wondering what good the presence of these sybaritic young women in Germany is doing to members of England's team, who are being permitted several trysts by Sven Goran Eriksson. Some of the energy expended during these encounters with WAGs might have been better spent on the pitch, to judge by some of our recent performances.

Not very long ago, English women were held up on the continent as the acme of style and elegance. Now the world looks at the WAGs and sees young women with a lot of money and no style, who behave as though they are enjoying a hen night in Ibiza. It seems not remotely to occur to the WAGs, nor to the Football Association executives who, I suppose, are ultimately responsible for them, what a tawdry spectacle — and what a shaming role model — they present.

We should be celebrating the prowess of the England team, who have at least progressed to the second round, but the World Cup seems only to emphasise everything that is cheap and worthless about our society. Many people, I fear, will have been entranced by the depiction of Wayne Rooney as a blood-soaked warrior-god ready to smite our opponents. Nike and its advertising agency are simply supplying what they think football supporters want.

And, bewildered though the German Press and public may be, the shopping and drinking exploits of our WAGs will probably earn them more admiration than censure in this country. Getting pie-eyed, after all, seems to be the ambition of many English football fans, in Germany and at home. If loutish and inebriated behaviour were the test for winning the World Cup, England would win it every time.

The only bright point is that — so far — English supporters have been relatively well behaved and, by their usual standards, have caused minimal damage. But all we need to confirm our reputation as a peculiarly dysfunctional society is a good old-fashioned outbreak of English football hooliganism.

More PC bollocks

An addition to my earlier blog about schoolkids and their jumpers, news today that youngsters were sent home from a Norfolk primary school for wearing their England footie kits.

And the reason......? "Because they are made of nylon which is not a good fabric to wear in this hot weather".

So the schools force you to wear jumpers and swelter to death in the heat, but then send you home for wearing nylon because it's "too hot" to wear it.

Erm?

More likely they were terrified of non-British students or parents complaining they felt "intimidated" but the strong presence of patriotic kids, but they are too scared to give that as the "real" reason?

What next I wonder. "Taverham school has banned it's pupils from wearing polyester, as it's *so* last season darling - everyone should wear cheesecloth!!!"

PC gone mad

Read article HERE.

Unbelieveable news today about the schoolkids who have to keep their sweaters on during the current heatwave "because of health & safety rules".

Despite soaring temperatures the youngsters have been ordered to wear the offending item at all times, unless their parents sign a consent form. But the school's headteacher defended the policy and said it was among a string of safety measures designed to protect her pupils from a variety of sun-related illnesses, including sunstroke.

As a result children as young as three are only allowed to take off their jumpers if their name is on a parent-approval list. Without the required written permission they have no choice but to keep the sweater on - even during physical education classes.

Pupils are also only allowed to apply sun cream if their parents have signed a consent form.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Can a child not take responsibility for when he/she is too hot now? It's simple! "phew, I'm a bit hot" *remove jumper*. See?

I guess the sun cream issue is different, cos kids run around in the sun without realising they are burning. But it's easy enough for supervising teachers in the playground to make sure they put their cream on - why do they need a parental consent form??? In case they have an allergic reaction and the school gets sued? In case a teacher rubbing cream onto a child is accused of molestation?

When I was at primary school we ran around at lunch and playtime in the sun, and nobody said anything and we certainly didn't have sun cream on. And everyone was fine! We probably weren't outisde long enough for the sun to have a real effect on us.

Schools are obviously not worried about a child passing out because he is too hot in his sweater, or dehydrating because he's running around in his sweater but not drinking enough water. I wonder if schools in Australia have such stupid policies??? I seriously doubt it. Kids in Aus have grown up with lessons on sun protection, TV adverts, plus sensible parents who instil the importance of the "slip slop slap" rule from day one. I should think that if any kid gets sunburned and comes home crying, the parents will just scold them for not putting their hat and cream on - they certainly wouldn't go running to the school and blaming them.

But not so in Nanny Britain. What on earth next? No school meals unless a consent form is signed, just incase a kid gets a tummy bug and the dinnerladies get sued???

Feed your kids fish oils

Interesting news today that schoolkids may be fed Omega 3 and 6 fish oils at school, to "help improve their brain power and concentration".

Utterly useless however, if the schools continue to spend less per head on school meals, than what we spend on our prisoners and Police dogs.

There are lots of young kids in the cul de sac where I live. And it sees that from the minute they wake up they are hyperactive. You can tell when they've been filled full of sugar-crammed cereal, as the screaming hysteria in each back garden reaches a crescendo. Then they walk to school sucking on a can of Coke and eating a bag of crisps. Then no doubt after Turkey Twizzlers for lunch, or chips and burgers, they are TOTALLY ready to settle down and concentrate on lessons. Not.

Home again, and mum fills them full of more chips and microwave crap, then they sit and do their homework with the radio or the telly on in their bedroom.

A survey by the National Farmers Union found that nearly half of children thought margarine came from cows; a third believed oranges grew in Britain; and nearly a quarter did not know the main ingredient in bread was flour.

Around one in five did not know that ham came from pigs — as opposed to a tin or a packet — and they offered colourful suggestions for its origins such as cows, chicken, sheep and even deer.
Do they inherit this ignorance from their parents, who would rather spend 30 minutes watching EastEnders, than preparing a fresh home-cooked meal?

A voice of reason has arisen in this whole debate though, some Professor dude said of the Omega 3 idea: "It is only a sticking plaster, however. The much better alternative is eating a good mix of foods, coupled with teaching children and the general population about nutrition and diet." Hear hear. Send the PARENTS as well as the kids to basic nutrition classes, and knock some sense into them.

I was out and about at a show on Sunday and witnessed parents feeding their kids burgers that were as big as the kids head....and tiny toddlers with huge ice-creams dribbling down their mouths (how much sugar?!?!!), while other kids drank cans of fizzy pop. Not surprisingly, the parents were large and blobby, and even some of the little kids were developing lovely little beer bellies. Again, this collective blindness to the fact that THEIR KIDS ARE FAT.

In that film "Fast Food Nation", Morgan Spurlock visited a school for kids who had been expelled from their regular schools for unruly and disruptive behaviour. They were deemed "special needs" because of their inability to concentrate and their hyperactivity and rowdiness.

This "special" school fed the kids on a diet of organic food and freshly prepared meals with out a trace of chemicals, sugar, or artificial crap. They only allowed them to drink natural fruit juice or water. Within weeks their entire behaviour had changed, they settled down in classes, and their grades rocketed. Not a fish oil capsule in sight.

Why don't we learn from this?? Why do most pubs and cafes still offer "kids menus" that contain chicken nuggets, burgers, chips and hot dogs? Why do McDonalds continue to tempt kiddies with their Happy Meals and crappy toys, yet bluster they are improving because they offer the option of "fruit bags", knowing full well the kids will go for the burgers instead? Why do garages and service stations have banks and banks of crisps and chocolates tempting you as you queue to pay for petrol - with not a fruit selection in sight? Why do supermarkets still stack the shelves near the checkouts with sweets and kiddysize goodie bags, prompting nag-tactics from bored kids in the checkout queue? Why do cinemas stuff us full of popcorn and bags of chocolates and salty nachos and monster-sized chemical-packed soft drinks? Why don't they offer healthier stuff???? And so it goes on.

And why do the Government continue with this ridiculous "five a day" campaign, which nobody understands and therefore doesn't bother about. What the fuck is "five portions of fruit and veg", what is a "portion"? One piece of brocolli? half a spud? one apple? FFS make it a bit bloody clearer! WHere are the billboards and posters and TV ads extolling the virtues of fruit and veg, and tempting us with pics of juicy pears and crunchy apples and steaming sweet potatoes and lovely brocolli bakes? Apparently only £1.5m was spent on advertising "Five a day", against an estimation that the food industry spent in excess of £0.3 billion in 1999 promoting unhealthy food products.

If I had my way then all junk-food manufacturing companies would be closed down. But then there would be howls of derision crying "what about the jobs" and "you're killing economic growth". I''m sick of this "economic growth" crap being used asn an excuse for us to keep manufacturing food that is killing us, airports that are suffocating our air, and cars that we no longer buy.

http://www.sustainweb.org/child_protect.asp

Don't forget D-Day

Amongst all the hype surrounding today's date 6-6-06 and all the AntiChrist bollocks that come with it, spare a few minutes thought for all the WW2 veterans, who today will have thoughts of fallen comrades, death and violence on the beaches of Normandy.

Much better to hype about those brave men and their sacrifices than some overinflated Devil story ...

Love & Its Disintegration

The passages below have been excerpted from "Love & Its Disintegration In Western Society," a chapter in Erich Fromm's The Art of Loving (New York: Harper & Row, 1956), pp. 2-3, 72-74.

"Our whole culture is based on the appetite for buying, on the idea of a mutually favorable exchange. Modern man's happiness consists in the thrill of looking at the shop windows, and in buying all that he can afford to buy, either for cash or on installments. He (or she) looks at people in a similar way.

For the man an attractive girl -- and for the woman an attractive man -- are the prizes they are after. 'Attractive' usually means a nice package of qualities which are popular and sought after on the personality market. What specifically makes a person attractive depends on the fashion of the time, physically as well as mentally.

During the twenties, a drinking and smoking girl, tough and sexy, was attractive; today the fashion demands more domesticity and coyness. At the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of this century, a man had to be aggressive and ambitious -- today he has to be social and tolerant -- in order to be an attractive 'package'.

At any rate, the sense of falling in love develops usually only with regard to such human commodities as are within reach of one's own possibilities for exchange. I am out for a bargain; the object should be desirable from the standpoint of its social value, and at the same time should want me, considering my overt and hidden assets and potentialities. Two persons thus fall in love when they feel they have found the best object available on the market, considering the limitations of their own exchange values. Often, as in buying real estate, the hidden potentialities which can be developed play a considerable role in this bargain. In a culture in which the marketing orientation prevails, and in which material success is the outstanding value, there is little reason to be surprised that human love relations follow the same pattern of exchange which governs the commodity and the labor market. . .

"Modern capitalism needs men who co-operate smoothly and in large numbers; who want to consume more and more; and whose tastes are standardized and can be easily influenced and anticipated. It needs men who feel free and independent, not subject to any authority or principle or conscience -- yet willing to be commanded, to do what is expected of them, to fit into the social machine without friction; who can be guided without force, led without leaders, prompted without aim -- except the one to make good, to be on the move, to function, to go ahead.

"What is the outcome? Modern man...has been transformed into a commodity, experiences his life forces as an investment which must bring him the maximum profit obtainable under existing marketing conditions. Human relations are essentially those of alienated automatons, each basing his security on staying close to the herd, and not being different in thought, feeling or action. While everybody tries to be as close as possible to the rest, everybody remains utterly alone, pervaded by the deep sense of insecurity, anxiety and guilt which always results when human separateness cannot be overcome.

Our civilization offers many palliatives which help people to be consciously unaware of this aloneness: first of all the strict routine of bureaucratized, mechanical work, which helps people to remain unaware of their most fundamental human desires, of the longing for transcendence and unity. Inasmuch as the routine alone does not succeed in this, man overcomes his unconscious despair by the routine of amusement, the passive consumption of sounds and sights offered by the amusement industry; futhermore by the satisfaction of buying ever new things, and soon exchanging them for others.

Modern man is actually close to the picture Huxley describes in his Brave New World: well fed, well clad, satisfied sexually, yet without self, without any except the most superficial contact with his fellow men, guided by the slogans which Huxley formulated so succinctly, such as: 'When the individual feels, the community reels'; or 'Never put off till tomorrow the fun you can have today,' or, as the crowning statement: 'Everybody is happy nowadays.' Man's happiness today consists in 'having fun.' Having fun lies in the satisfaction of consuming and 'taking in' commodities, sights, food, drinks, cigarettes, people, lectures, books, movies -- all are consumed, swallowed.

The world is one great object for our appetite, a big apple, a big bottle, a big breast; we are the sucklers, the eternally expectant ones, the hopeful ones -- and the eternally disappointed ones. Our character is geared to exchange and to receive, to barter and to consume; everything, spiritual as well as material objects, becomes an object of exchange and of consumption.

"The situation as far as love is concerned corresponds, as it has by necessity, to this social character of modern man. Automatons cannot love; they can exchange their 'personality packages' and hope for a fair bargain. One of the most significant expressions of love, and especially of marriage with this alienated structure, is the idea of the 'team'. In any number of articles on happy marriage, the ideal described is that of the smoothly functioning team. This description is not too different from the idea of a smoothly functioning employee; he should be 'reasonably independent,' co-operative, tolerant, and at the same time ambitious and aggressive.

Thus, the marriage counselor tells us, the husband should 'understand' his wife and be helpful. He should comment favorably on her new dress, and on a tasty dish. She, in turn, should understand when he comes home tired and disgruntled, and should listen attentively when he talks about his business troubles, should not be angry but understanding when he forgets her birthday. All this kind of relationship amounts to is the well-oiled relationship between two persons who remain strangers all their lives, who never arrive at a 'central relationship,' but who treat each other with courtesy and who attempt to make each other feel better.

"In this concept of love and marriage the main emphasis is on finding a refuge from an otherwise unbearable sense of aloneness. In 'love' one has found, at last, a haven from aloneness. One forms an alliance of two against the world, and this egoism a deux is mistaken for love and intimacy."

Vote "None of the above"

http://www.protestvoteparty.org/P56681.asp?bb=58&bx=1

Interesting concept. But would it work??

Poor football....

A TV advert encouraging viewers to sponsor a child in the Third World has been banned for being "an unfair attack on football".

The World Vision ad, to have been screened during the Cup, shows an African boy playing with a ball made of maize, bags and string.

The advert then says: "England's team are sponsored for £49million. Masidi is sponsored for 60p a day."

The Broadcast Advertising Clearance Centre watchdog said it "suggested money spent in the development and sponsorship of football was wasted".

World Vision boss Rudo Kwaramba said: "We're extremely surprised by this ruling."

===========================

"money spent in the development and sponsorship of football was wasted"

HOW TRUE - 40 YEARS AND WE'VE STILL NOT WON THE WORLD CUP. How much has been invested in the England team in that 40 years? I bet it would write off the whole third world debt.

Redhead facts & myths

Good Lord I should go into hiding!

1. Red hair is seen on the heads of only four percent of people. Most of these exist in the U.K., the Republic of Ireland, and Australia.
2. There is a belief that redheads are prone to industrial deafness. This actually could be true as the melanocytes are found in the middle ear.
3. A 2002 study found that redhead are harder to sedate than any other people requiring twenty percent more anesthesia. Inadequate doses cause people to wake up during surgery and have increased recall of procedures.
4. In the late 16th century, the fat of a redheaded man was an essential ingredient for poison.
   The Egyptians regarded the color as so unlucky that they had a ceremony in which they burned red-headed maidens alive to wipe out the tint.
5. An Irish judge in 2001 fined a man for disorderly conduct stating "I am a firm believer that hair coloring has an effect on temper and your coloring suggests you have a temper."
6. Redheads have always been thought untrustworthy. Judas is most always depicted as a redhead displaying the prejudice against red hair.
7. Adolph Hitler reportedly banned the marriages of two redheads as he feared their children would be "deviant offspring".
8. Red haired children have been historically branded as offspring of "unclean" sex. This has earned them taunts such as "red-knob" or "tampon tops."
9. Bees are thought to sting redheads more than others.
10. In Denmark it is an honor to have a redheaded child.
11. In Corsica, if you pass a redhead in the street you are to spit and turn around.
12. In Poland, if you pass three red-heads you'll win the state lottery.
13. In Greek Mythology, redheads turn into Vampires when they die.
14. During the Spanish Inquisition flame colored hair was evidence that its owner had stolen the fire of hell and had to be burned as a witch.
15. Russian tradition declares that red hair is both a sign that a person holds a fiery temper and craziness.
16. A Russian Proverb warns "There was never a saint with red hair."
17. Aristotle was known to believe that redheads were emotionally unhousebroken.
18. A French Proverb states that "redheaded women are either violent or false, and usually are both." 

See also: 

Redheads are vampires, and other interesting myths

DNA project aims to count Scots redheads

Is gingerism as bad as racism?

Redheaded donors are being turned away at sperm bank

Understand Red Head Genetics - cool but nerdy reading!

Peak Oil is a myth

Very VERY interesting article here:

http://www.prisonplanet.com/archives/peak_oil/index.htm

Seems plausible - scare the public into thinking oil is running out, then put the prices up and make even bigger profits - while happily knowing there is MORE than enough oil left in the ground to run the world for another few million years.

Bastards.

Fat kids

Interesting report here http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/5003766.stm about "fat tests" for young kids at primary school.

The report says "From next year, parents of any obese four or 10 year olds can expect a letter telling them their child faces long-term health damage unless they lose weight. "

Erm do parents need a letter from the Government to tell them their kid is fat? Are they blind? They should bloody well SEE and KNOW that their kid is fat!

I marvel when I see families walking down the street towing their waddling kids behind them, or feeding them McDonalds or a huge ice cream, or letting them suck on a can of Coke. I marvel when I'm at the supermarket and I see that sort of crap that parents buy in their weekly food shop. Ready-meals, frozen mechanically-separated chicken nuggets, sugary milkshakes, bags of Wotsits, bottles of fizzy drinks, and just for good measure, a bag of carrots.

It must be a sort of blindness where they don't really SEE that their kid is fat, or they think it's "puppy fat" and that it will melt away miraculously as the kid grows up. But there's a huge difference between puppy fat and just plain FAT. "Parents don't know what the correct weight of their children should be" says the article. Maybe so, but they should notice when their kid starts to waddle and grow a belly.

Why do they turn this blind eye and continue with the unhealthy crap they feed their family? Is it that they just can't be bothered with the endless fighting and moaning if they tried to make them eat healthy? Is it because they "don't like cooking" and would rather spend an hour in front of EastEnders than an hour in the kitchen preparing a lovely homecooked healthy meal? Is it because they want their kid to love them, and fighting with them about food choices will "make them hate me"?

If you don't want your kids to whinge about having to eat healthy food then don't get them hooked on junk food in the first place! Start them off on healthy food and they will know nothing BUT healthy food - bingo, no problem.

Or just learn to say NO and put up with the crap that is thrown back at you. Tell your kids that if they don't eat the tea you've prepared then they go to bed with an empty stomach (then lock the door to stop them sneaking out to McDs).

The article also says "A Department of Health spokeswoman said: 'We feel this is a real chance for parents to play a more active role and to be aware of the health risks to their children of being obese.' "

Erm a chance for parents to play a more active role in their children's health? Shouldn't they be doing that ANYWAY as a parent??

And finally the do-gooders step in and preach that these Fat Tests will lead to "overweight children being bullied". Well DUH? If their kid is fat it's likely he will already be getting bullied. Are they trying to say that a fat kid will be ignored in the schoolyard until his test announces that yes, "he is fat" and then suddenly the bullying will start?

Fat kids will always get picked on at school, just as ginger kids will, kids with jamjar glasses, kids with acne, kids with frumpy clothes, kids with dorky parents - any kid who is different from the "norm" for whatever reason. It's a fact of the schoolyard, and fat tests will make sod all difference.

This constant nannying by the Government needs to stop, and parents need to be fed a good dose of common sense, have their blindfolds removed, and open their bloody eyes to take a good hard look at their fat kids. Then make changes.

See Bush take a fall and help him on his way!!!

http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/georgie.htm

Class! :-D

Fucking transport taxes

For every £10 spent on fuel, £8.50 is taken in tax.
The Treasury generates nearly £33 billion from drivers, but less than 5% is re-invested in roads,and no more than 20% in transport as a whole.
It is estimated that within 5 years, petrol will cost £7 per gallon.



£1.34 per mile to go on a motorway says Labour - if they do this are they going to abolish or cut the licence fee??? Shit, I won't be driving up North to see my parents anymore, won't be able to bloody afford it!

By the time I get my Elise I won't be able to bloody afford to run it. Country road taxes, workplace parking taxes, "owning a car in the city" taxes, "farting in your car" taxes, FFS I am SICK of being milked like a f*cking cash cow for this Goddam Government. £8.50 out of £10 spent on petrol goes direct to Brown, generating £33m income, and only 5% of it is reinvested in traffic and road schemes.

And meanwhile more airports are built and extended, more planes spew pollution into the atmosphere, and the flight companies don't get charged f*ck all in extra taxes. British families today are poorer than ever and more in debt than ever thanks to endless taxes. Then Labour bang on about economic growth, all the while throttling us and our cars and stopping us from going places, spending money and HELPING "economic growth".

And is ANYTHING being invested in alternative forms of transport using renewable energy??? You're having a f***ing laugh aren't you????

The car flags are back again .....

Morris dancers, black men and speed cameras - shit!

Ambling around Asda tonight I walked past a muscly black man with dodgy skin. Saw him again in the checkout queue 3 down from me. En route back to my caar with trolleyfull of goods, he appears and says hello and tries to talk to me in a decidedly weird accent. I said hello and carried on walking. He follows me to my car and gives me the old "I think we've met" line. "I don't think so" I say politely. he asks for my phone number, I lie and say "I have a boyfriend". "He pretty much doesn't care - "take a chance" he says in his dodgy foreign accent. "Er no, I have a boyfriend and I'm not interested", and I get in my car.

The bloody car then won't start, as he stands outside my window and taps on it. I'm glad that other people are around in neighbouring cars, watching me. Car starts - I wind my windown down "take a chance" he says again, "no thanks, bye" I say. "Maybe I'll see you again" he says as I back out of my parking space. "Sure", I say in my head, "when World Peace is here".

I've never been picked up in a Supermarket before, and in my newly-single state of mind it was quite flustering. Also I was pissed because he totally wasn't my type and didn't care when I said I wasn't interested and was with someone.

Driving home pondering it, I spotted the local pub beer garden - FULL of Morris Dancers, in their extremely gay outfits, standing around swilling pints. Staring at them and sniggering, I then caught the double flash of a fucking speed camera as I went thru it at 40+mph - FUCK!

I'm hoping that I won't get done - don't these cameras run out of film or something? But knowing my luck I'm screwed, another 3 points and f*cking £60. FUCKITY!!!

Crap meals out

http://b3ta.com/questions/crapmealsout/

F*cking hilarious, I got hysterics in the middle of the office reading this .....

Flag waving

Here we go again .... in the run up to the World Cup, we Brits are being told we can't fly the St George Flag or the Union Jack, "in fear of upsetting ethnic miniorities".

I'm sorry but IF YOU COME TO LIVE IN OUR COUNTRY YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH US FLYING OUR OWN FUCKING FLAG. If we went over to S. Africa or the Balkans or Lithuania and started pissing and whingeing about seeing their flags everywhere, do you think they'd say "oh, we're terribly sorry we'll take them all down, is that OK?" Somehow I THINK NOT.

I for one am never offended when I'm in a foreign country and their flags are everywhere - because it's THEIR country. Why should they compromise?

Whether or not it's just the PC do-gooders that are saying this, or whether ethnic minorities HAVE actually complained, I don't know. I remember last year at my local Uni, UK students were told to take down their flags for fear of offending foreign students. But the foreign students were allowed to fly THEIR flags in our faces. Great!

I'm not a football fan and I really don't care if we win the World Cup or not. But I am sick of us being told we can't be patriotic in our own country. Any foreigner who is offended by the sight of our flag should just deal with it. We are supporting our country in a worldwide event, which means flying our bloody flags. Wht about the Olympics? The most multicultural event ever, with flags galore - but nobody complains during the opening and closing ceremonies.

We could do things a lot worse to offend them, ie put signs up saying "f*ck off foreigners". Now that would be a better cause for complaint.

So soon we will see those Chav-tastic St George car flags banned then? And when the Queen troops the colour, the soldiers will walk around with empty flagpoles? Austin Powers' "Shaguar" is resprayed?? Are we to have fines introduced next, or even worse - a "Flag Tax" to extort even more money from us?

America is one of the most culturally diverse countries in the world, and they are zealous about flying the Stars & Stripes from every house, window, building and flagpole. Yet we don't hear any PC bollocks from all their foreign inhabitants. This summer and indeed, any day of the year, we should be allowed to fly whatever bloody flag we want - before any remaining Patriotism towards our country is stamped out for good.

Marriage Quotes

• Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he's in love with her. - Agatha Christie
• Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy, fat women. - Marion Smith
• I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless and stupid. - Dorothy Parker
• Marrying a man is like buying something you've been admiring for a long time in a shop window. You may love it when you get home, but it doesn't always go with everything else in the house. - Jean Kerr
• I never married because I have three pets at home that answer the same purpose as a husband. I have a dog that growls every morning, a parrot that swears all afternoon and a cat that comes home late at night. - Marie Corelli
• No nice men are good at getting taxis - Katherine Whitehorn
• I like to wake up each morning feeling a new man. - Jean Harlow
• Give a man a free hand and he'll run it all over you. - Mae West
• Behind every great man there is a surprised woman. - Maryon Pearson
• The trouble with some woman is that they get all excited about nothing, and then marry him - Cher
• A husband is what is left of the lover after the nerve is extracted - Helen Rowland
• Before marriage a man will lay awake all night thinking about something you said; after marriage he'll fall asleep before you have finished saying it. - Helen Rowland
• An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets, the more interested he is in her. - Agatha Christie
• By all means marry. If you get a good wife you will become happy - If you get a bad one you will become a philosopher - Socrates
• Marriage is a sort of friendship recognised by the police
• Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution? - Groucho Marx
• Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures - Sanuel Johnson
• It's a funny thing that when a man hasn't anything on earth to worry about, he goes off and gets married - Robert Frost
• Marriage is popular because it combines the maximim of temptation with the maximum of opportunity - George Bernard Shaw
• Marriage is based on the theory that when a man discovers a particular brand of beer exactly to his taste, he should at once throw in his job and go to work in the brewery - George Nathan
• All husbands are alike, but they have different faces so you can tell them apart - Ogden Nash
• A husband's last words should always be 'OK buy it'.
• Nothing makes a good wife like a good husband
• Whoso findeth a wife, findeth a good thing - The Bible
• The man who says his wife can't take a joke, forgets that she took him - Oscar Wilde
• No man should have a secret from his wife. She invariably finds it out - Oscar Wilde
• The most dangerous food a man can eat is wedding cake
• Woman like silent men, they think they are listening - Marcel Achard

Water shortage

Apparently panic buying of water butts has hit the shops, because of the impending hosepipe bans and water shortages that are hitting us even before the hot summer gets here.

How amusing that again, we have to pay for our Government's lack of action on this issue. Why hasn't legislation been put into place to force ALL new buildings to use water-saving toilets, and to use rainwater for their toilet/washbasin water? A rainwater system is easily installed and would help save our normal water. Why isn't more being done to promote these systems to householders, to encourage them to install such systems?

And I've always thought it's stupid to use how many gallons of cistern water just to flush away less than a pint of piss??

Also, the current hosepipe ban guidelines need totally revising. For instance, you can't use a hosepipe to wash your car/sprinkle your lawn, but you can use it to fill up an outdoor swimming pool. HELLO?????????

My last visit to London I marvelled at the lack of green space - there was nowhere that rainwater could fall and be soaked into the ground and back into the water table. Nope, it went on the concrete and was washed down the drains only to be leaked away, never to reach our houses. And Prescott still continues to build and build in the South, despite the impending water doom. And none of them will have water saving toilets in I'm betting.

Well my new lawn and shrubs aren't going to suffer. I may not have a hosepipe but I have a huge watering can, and a few trips to and from the kitchen sink will be in order......

Replaced

My ex (the one before the current ex) told me on MSN yesterday that he has a new girlfriend. After over a year of him being single, I've finally been replaced. They met at a track day when he was still with me, and after we split they started talking over the internet when he went to Florida. She's just been out there to visit him and they finally got it on.

Even though we didn't work out and wouldn't work out in the future, you still feel a pang when you find out that you have truly been replaced. So this Christmas it will be her going to Australia with him to meet all his family, her enjoying Christmas Day in the sun, her going scuba diving with him, her laughing with and enjoying the company of his family. Where previously it had always been me.

And she has an S2 Lotus Elise. Gggrrrr.....

My first funeral

Well I just got back from my first funeral. It was my favourite Auntie Issy's funeral and it was everything I DON'T want my funeral to be.

I guess I've done well to reach 34 and never been to a funeral. But I hope I don't have to go to another soon and I *really* don't know how I will cope at my parents' funeral, which is inevitable at some point in the future.

We all met at Issy's house and we rode in the hearse that followed the coffin. I couldn't look at the coffin in front of me, I didn't 'want to imagine her lying in there all cold - I wanted to remember her as I last saw her or heard her on the phone when we last spoke. Her body to me was just an empty vessel, no longer relevant to her or who she was.

Nobody spoke during the journey to the crem, and when they did it was in hushed whispers. Some people say that the silence and the hush is for "respect for the dead". But to me it seemed to sit all wrong, I'd not want this for my funeral - I'd want AC/DC on the stereo playing "Hell's Bells" or something.

We arrived at the crem and I only got upset the one time, when the pall bearers lifted the coffin out and into the church. It still seemed to me that she wasn't in there, that it was empty. I guess in a way it was.

Being an agnostic, the whole "God" thing just doesn't appeal to me. Walking into the modern-built Crem church and sitting down, I listened to the preacher's Bible waffle with an acrid ear. It all sounded like such empty poetic bullshit. We stood for the hymns but I couldn't sing them, I felt like too much of a fat hypocrite. God this, God that, death is the beginning of a new life in His kingdom etc etc. I guess it's fine if you believe all of that and if it comforts you, but it just irritated me. I absolutely do NOT want a religious funeral. And the coffin - why spend all that money and wood on a coffin that is just going to be burned? Waste of money and resources.

Put me in a cardboard coffin, bury me along with a newly planted tree, and leave me to fertilise the tree and feed the worms. No God, no religion, just a darn good party with Benny Goodman on the stereo and nobody talking in hushed whispers. And strictly NO black. Bright colours only, and a celebration of my life that was, not a mourning of my life now gone.

Issy had a fabulous and interesting life and I saw this as NOT a fitting way to end it. It was too quiet, too miserable, too drab, and too rushed. I will miss her and the regular phone calls we had, and I wish I could have seen her one more time before she died, but in a way I'm glad she's gone, as her quality of life was getting bad and her 80-a-day habit had finished off her lungs to the point that she could barely breathe. She seemed ready to go and join my uncle John, who died over 4 years ago. I know that they are together again somewhere and I know that they are both happy.

Then to finish the weekend off I had a huge row with my mother when we got back to Norwich, about her total negativity about everything in my life and her inability to see the positive or the good in ANYTHING I had done with the house since she last saw it. Since they arrived on Wednesday night I have heard nothing but a string of whinges (now you know where I get it from!) about the downstairs loo, the rats being smelly, the hall floor, the wood floor in the lounge, the kitchen as a whole, the bench in particular, the garden, the fact my front door doesn't have a curtain, the fact that my cafe-net in the kitchen means that neighbours can see in (like yeah, they spend all day queueing up to look into my kitchen), and the limescale stain on the front wall needs scrubbing off, the shrubs I've chosen for the garden will grow too big, the compost bin I've started won't work "because mine never did" and the fact that my house is "full of clutter" (which it totally isn't compared to her chintzy cluttered house).

I spent the journey from Norwich to Swindon and then back again plugged into my MP3 player, just to drown out her droning negativity - and I got bollocked for that and called "very rude" because I wasn't talking to anyone. When she started to work herself up into a frenzy because my dad wasn't' stopping for any petrol, I could take no more and everything blew up.

She went upstairs in tears for hours, my dad came down and gave me the "your mother is really upset" speech, and then it was my turn to explode and say that I was sick of her constant negativity and her sniping at everything about the house - the house that I had worked hard on since she'd last seen it, the garden that I had dug over myself and broke my back on, all my seedlings that were successfully sprouting, and most of all, my Fuzzbutt sewing venture that I had started from scratch with no prior sewing knowledge - I'd drafted the patterns, worked on prototypes, developed some great products, had positive feedback from the testers, had made over £900 worth of stock all by myself, all ready to sell on and make some extra money for myself - and what had she said to me?

"If I'd not given you that sewing machine you'd have spent more time on the house instead of up here"

YEAH GREAT MUM, THANKS. The f*cking house isn't going anywhere, it's perfectly liveable in, and there is plenty of time to get all the remaining jobs finished on it - as and when I get the money to finish them (which is where Fuzzbutt will help I hope).

Somehow you can feel like you've done a great job, but if your parents themselves don't say you've done a great job - then you don't feel like you have anymore. I have to stop caring what she thinks cos it's destroying me. She's downstars now watching telly, they're going home tomorrow. I'm off for a bath. I can't talk to her at the minute as we will just argue again. This had to happen, it had to be said. Her negativity and constant moaning has already driven my brother to hardly visit her any more, and it will get like that with me too if this carries on. I'm negative enough without her crap weighing on my shoulders too.

But I hate feeling angry towards her, I hate upsetting her. Cos when the day comes that her coffin is carried into a church in front of me, I know I will regret every cross word.

Monthly Jake-fest

Goddam he makes one hot cowboy - gay or not I don't care :-O

This from http://grouphug.us

Interesting entry (amongst the other entries about screwing cats and killing your third grade teacher...):

"Sometimes you just need to survive.. so everyday you entertain yourself.. and ignore the real unhappiness in your life... every now and then you pause and think.. should you be so shallow and simply live life to entertain yourself or go to the roots of the problem of your unhapiness. Then you realise that you cannot solve it because it is beyond your control so you revert back to simply entertaining yourself. because you don't know what to do otherwise.. afterall you need to survive,... and perhaps entertaining yourself could be part of the solution... then the emptiness hits you and you realise that you have not completely solve all your problems... and you still don't know how to... clock is ticking... you are still far from achieving from what you want... or is it what society wants... you don't know anymore.... "

I don't do "relationships"

Well my break-up has now got to the stage of slagging and vicious emails from all parties. I never wanted it to degenerate into this, but it has. His emails cut deep and hurt, mainly because they are true. Nobody ever wants to deal with the black and white truth about themselves, specially when it's put forward by the one person that used to care for them above all else in the world. It will be a long time before we can be proper friends again I think.

I really REALLY don't want to go through this again, I seem to seriously be facing my future alone. I'm sick of the stress, hassles and upsets that relationships bring.

"But it's just cos he wasn't the right one" people say. Maybe so, but I'm not prepared to go through even more stress and shit to try and FIND the "right one". Is there such a thing, I wonder.

It will be shit to not have someone there for some closeness when you need it the most, but I'm not prepared to go thru tons of hassle just for that one thing. I'm sick of hurting people and I'm sick of being hurt myself. Fuck it! Ready meals for one here I come.

Power is an aphrodisiac

Unbelievable revelation today that jowly saggy-eyed John Prescott had an illicit affair with his secretary is absolute proof that power is an aphrodisiac and an attraction.

What the FUCK did she fancy about that man! Imagining him naked alone is enough to turn my stomach, but she actually WANTED and DID have sex with him?? Ew!!!!

Thoughts of Dahab

What horrid news to see Dahab on our TV screens all blown to bits. Having spent 10 glorious days there last May it was very upsetting to see the shops and restaurants I'd been to, smashed to smithereens. Many Egyptians are dead, and I wondered about all the friendly "restaurant boys" that spent their time haranguing us to come and eat in their establishements. I hope they are all OK. My brother is upset too as he lived out there for 9 months and made a great many friends.

Dahab was so quiet, so peaceful and chilled, so friendly. A rapidly expanding tourist resort with utterly fabulous diving, the big hotel chains were moving in and I could see that in about a decade's time it would be ruined, so I was enjoying it while it was still small and relatively simple. Why the hell did terrorists pick such a small inconsequential town to fuck up?

We are planning to go out there diving again this August, and despite these attacks we are still planning to go. Our money will help support them in their rebuild, and I'm sure they will be pleased to see visitors still turning up despite their tragedy.