Driving me mad

Cars are clever when you think about it, The people who design cars are also clever, As are the people who build them, and the people who fix them. I spent a large chunk of my childhood sat in wonky camping chairs, eating revolting picnic food (I dislike picnics with a passion) in fields or the grounds of stately homes while car enthusiast men swapped tales of carburettors, rusting wings and divorce. But even the cars they had spent thousands on, taken apart, driven once and taken apart again were clever, And modern car's are getting cleverer.
Modern cars, are of course much more reliable, and very rarely go wrong if looked after correctly. So what does go wrong with cars the most? The brakes? Lights? Wheels?
No, Unfortunately its the blobs of skin and bone behind the wheel. I work 36 minutes away from my house, around 22 miles, On my journey home today I could've been killed, TWICE. That means I encountered a complete moron every 11 miles, and they're just the ones who bothered to show themselves.
Firstly the tractor driver who at Lisset crossroads decided it would be a good idea to try and pull his Massey wotsit  and 30ft trailer across the road in front of me, He'd have struggled to make it across the road in a leer jet never mind a sodding tractor. I appreciate he was most probably looking forward to getting home to his ruddy faced wife who's had a large pot of stew on the boil since he last got up 3 years ago, And yes, he may have been stressed because his turnips have all got tuberculosis because of all the rain/sun/badgers/foxes or the lack of rain/sun/badgers/foxes, But I suspect none of these are the case, and that Mr Gummidge was just a complete and utter Cockersaurus Rex.
Move forward 10 minutes, I'd finally got the image of me forcing a farmers limp body into his own bailer, And was further along the road onto the dual carriageway that has a speed limit of 70mph. at 70mph you have to be very certain before you do anything that what you're about to do is safe, Isn't that right? Man in gold coloured Toyota saloon? So for example if I was about to move into the outside lane I'd check my mirrors, if it was clear I'd indicate and pull out. Then If I realised I was a complete retard and I infact didn't need to be in the outside lane, I'd repeat the process for changing back, Not Pull across without indicating and using mirrors nearly running the car parallel to you off the road, then realising you were indeed a complete retard and doing the same again on your way back across. Maybe Mr Gold Toyota man has reasons for his lapse, Maybe he was stressed, Maybe he'd had a difficult day at work, Maybe while he spends his weekends deciding which beige cardigan best matches his brown moleskin trousers, his wife was sleeping with a man half his age? , Maybe he was concerned at the state of the economy?. Unfortunately though I suspect that this individual was just a great big testicle.
I don't claim to be particularly intelligent, I can tell you some things, Brogan and Haldane were both characters in 90's sci fi series space precinct, I can tell you the difference between Soup and Broth, I can name most of the US presidents in roughly the right order. But my mental arithmetic leaves a lot to be desired, my ability to identify Great British birds is poor and I'm terrible painting, But I do know most car makers put things on cars for a reason, Indicators - Indicate intent to move, Mirrors-Help us see things behind us without having to rotate our heads 360 degrees. Unfortunately car manufacturers can't make drivers. And so many drivers are terrible at it. If as a person 60mph scares you, so you drive everywhere at 45mph then you shouldn't be driving, If you can't see past the bonnet of your tiny Japanese car you also shouldn't be driving, If you believe that 3mm between the car in front and your Audi badge is sufficient stopping distance you shouldn't be driving. If you decorate your Corsa with most of the things in Halfords (under £19.99) then drive everywhere with fog lights on, you shouldn't be driving.
Unfortunately the problem cannot be solved, The police are undermanned, everyone and anyone can apply for a drivers license, and ethnic cleansing is frowned upon, So have this as a warning, I avoided almost inevitable death twice in 36 minutes, My mind sharp, untarnished by drink, drugs or Bon Jovi, But others might not be so lucky, My advice, and the only way to avoid accidents, is this, Drive everywhere at 45mph, it's so much safer, keep your front and rear fog lights on, so all the other maniacs can see you, Drive really close to the car in front, so you know exactly what they are doing, And finally Put on radio 4, It's constant news will keep you in the know, and the Archers will send you to sleep making you refreshed for the rest of the journey, Or at least until Ed Grundy breaks another combine.....

An apology to Wales

Dear Everyone,

In my last blog 'Cheap Holidays' I described Wales as "Britain's largest bit of wasteland". This seems to have gone down quite badly with the Welsh, and Welsh sympathisers. So I did the responsible thing, and looked up some facts about the land of fog and hepatitis B, and discovered that it is in fact a wonderful place.

For a start Wales is famous for Leeks and Coal, Both of which they had on the Luxury film inspired cruise ship Titanic. Also, During the war, the Germans knew just how important Wales would be to the world that they didn't bother  dare to Bomb it, Probably.
There are also many famous people from Wales, The Best known being ageing love machine and Nelson Mandela impersonator Sir Tom Jones, Who's hit Delilah is about a Jealous man who stabs his wife to death, A truly beautiful ballad.
However there are more famous folk from the valleys; Griff Rhys Jones, Despite his French sounding name, is indeed Welsh, as Is Colonel Gaddafi.....'s Best friends sister.

The Climate in Welsh Wales is also very tolerable, With very few natural disasters occurring each year. 90% of Wales's rainfall is recycled into making natural Welsh mud, or the A5 as it's commonly known.

Wales also has it's own language, Which is spoken widely throughout Europe, By incredibly few people, However many welsh schools insist on teaching it, because they know just how useful it may be in the future. It is quite  easy to learn, and most words can be mastered using only the letter 'D' and spitting a lot.

Anyway, I'm hoping that this open letter goes some way to making amends with the welsh, and Helping right some wrongs.

Wales, I am very sorry.

Love ME

Cheap Holidays....

Short of Money?

Need a break?

Only had 2 holidays this year?

Why not Holiday In England

As we are all aware, the current economic climate has taken its toll. Nobody is as well off as they used to be. And this week British gas and other energy suppliers have raised prices, Begging two questions.

· What is the best temperature to defrost frozen elderly relatives?

· How are we going to afford a holiday?

Now I can't answer the first question, but the I can the second; it’s quite simple really. Holiday at home. No I don't mean go and live in your shed for a week, I mean Say 'au revoir'

To the Dordogne, and Say hello to the places England has to offer.

Now this is not new, many thin, slightly odd, sandal wearing vegetarians have been doing it for years. But they go to places like the lake district, Or Loch Ness, Or Stonehenge, Where you will inevitably end up Underwhelmed, Wet, and paying over the odds for lumps of shiny stone, or bottled water. So this 'Helpful' Guide Features places where that isn't going to happen (Well, you may get wet, I can't stop the weather....Yet). So get your finest tracksuit on, and pack your crocs, because were going on Holiday....

Wales

Known too many as Wales, or Whales. It is indeed England’s largest piece of derelict wasteland. Home too just a few hundred Locals, Called the Welsh. There are many things to do in Wales, Including Visiting one of its many crack dens, (Usually located in the larger cities such as Cardiff). Wales has No museums, and looks upon culture dimly. However, if you manage to approach a local who isn’t high on ‘Rubicon’ you could indeed spend hours listening to them ramble on about Coal, Digging, and Digging for coal and Leeks. That however is difficult, because for some reason, many original locals refuse to drop their now largely pointless language, and cannot be understood.

It also has a lot of Hills, and Sheep, and judging by the picture it has a fair few misty hills as well.  Wales is largely child unfriendly, In fact it has been known for parents to unwittingly take a 5 year old to Wales and return with a 5 year old Heroin addict. It is however cheap. And much prettier than Bristol.

 

Leicester

Leicester, Is an upcoming city, working very hard to dispel its poor reputation. And recently in fact, Came 5^th on the Midlands city of culture list. Behind Coventry, Wolverhampton, Birmingham and West Bromwich. Leicester has many interesting things to see and Do, Including Junction 21 of the M1, Which is widely regarded as the busiest section of the motorway, you and your children can stand in awe at the sheer amount of cars, Trucks and vans that are driving on it. ‘Discover Leicester’ Run an open top bus tour around all of Leicester’s tourist spots, So if you find yourself with a spare 4 minutes to kill this is a must. Many think that every single person from or connected with Leicester is tediously dull, this is not true. In fact many Lecesities are there by accident, either through work, or at her majesty’s pleasure, and are in fact very interesting. If you can find any shops in Leicester they are all very cheap.

 

Wakefield

Wakefield, Known as ‘The heart of the Rhubarb triangle’ Or the Jewell of the West Riding (Named after the large factory that makes Argos jewellery, which is located just outside of Wakefield) Is definitely the place to go if you want a cheap relaxing holiday. It has literally a few things to do. Including a large shopping centre, which is very quiet. (Unless you happen to be near the benefits office). The centre has a range of shops Including Pound land, Mothercare, and a DFS (Note, at the time of writing DFS was closing down). Once you have finished shopping, you could indulge in one of the town’s fine eatery’s including a Greggs, McDonald’s or a KFC imitation. Wakefield also boasts the largest amount of Polish off licenses in England. If you want to experience some of the local culture, you could try slobbing around all day, grunting at the TV before heading out at 8pm to throw something in the canal, a tradition the locals have followed for many years, seemingly trying to appease the god of benefit Britain. The most common sacrifices include Old TV’s, Trolleys and dead whippets.

 

Thank you for reading, I hope this has given you an idea of some cheap holiday locations, But if none of the places on the list press your buttons, Read next week for more deals.

Before long anyone with a land rover will be forced to live underground.

For years in Britain there has been 3 main political parties with largely differing views on the way the country is run. And then languishing in the background, Like the wheezy kid who was always picked last at football Is the green party.
Some may say that the Labour party has been the most uccesfull party in recent years, Others may argue it's been the tories. There's probably a few people with pritt sticks up their noses that would say the Lib dems have done well. But actually, It's the green eco warriors who've done the best. Because like hemp clad power rangers they have infiltrated all the other parties, and made them do what they want.
This week for instance, It has been announced that people are to be fined for using plastic bags. In an attempt to stop polar bears throwing themselves into the sea. We all know that plastic bags are very bad, Much worse than Hitler, and Smoking. So something does need to be done. But imposing a fine on the shopper is not it.
For instance The fines are going to be around 5-10p So if you do forget your own bag it's just going to be easier to pay the fine, as opposed to struggling out of Asda with your big shop stuffed down your tracksuit. And I can just see the look on 'Sharon' from till 5's face when you need £19.95 change because you left your bag at home.
Fining the shopper is the wrong move, Fining the supermarket would be much better, Cauliflowers are wrapped up like they're solid gold, Apples are more secure than area 51 and Pork chops are sandwiched between that much plastic anyone would think they are highly toxic.None of these products need that level of packaging, and as far as I'm aware broccoli does not get embarrassed when it is displayed naked. All of this plastic has to go somewhere? Maybe the government should start fining large companies everytime an item of their packaging is found in the street? Then they'd start reducing those evil plastic bags.
All these parties seem to want to tell us what to do, Or at least let people tell us what to do. At school teachers tell you what to do, and where to go, Unless you have A (largely made up) ADHD style illness, In which case teachers aren't allowed to tell you what to do. Ten years ago Bankers told anybody they could have any amount of money they wanted for whatever reason, regardless of Job, Prospects or Intelligence, Now the same Bankers are saying that no one can ever borrow money again. One minute Vegetarian's wearing beards and hemp sandals are saying we musn't shoot foxes, or hunt ducks and deers, or catch fish, or eat cows, chicken or anything that once had a face. The next Men in sharp suits stood in front of ruddy faced farmers are telling us we must Kill, punch, kick, slap and poke every badger we see.
The police tell us how fast we can drive, despite having no real idea of the road or driver conditions,And the vegetablists are telling us we can't drive anything that might give off pollution or squash a squirrel. The government tell us where and what we can smoke and drink.
It does indeed seem, That anyone who wears a suit, a beard, or a hi viz vest can tell us all what to do. Unless of course your a ginger, homosexual muslim. In which case No one can tell you what do.

Stop The Cull.

I'm not normally a fan of the usual animal cruelty/Environmental/green issue campaigns. But the recent Badger cull is pretty shocking. So as opposed to standing in between a 12 bore wielding farmer and a badger I'm going to write a blog. To voice my largely irrelevant opinion.
In short Marksmen will be going out shooting badgers because they Might pass on bovine TB. The 'might' bit is kind of important.
But as 'Bovine TB' may suggest it can also be spread between bovines...(Cows). But we won't be culling them. The disease cannot realistically be treated in cows, as a result most infected cows get the chop. So I can see why farmers want something done about it.
It can however be vaccinated against. It's not easy, or cheap But it can;

• The government could open a number of 'drop in centers' So badgers could come along and get themselves vaccinated. But due to most Badgers dis-interest in reading newspapers or signs, they proabably wouldn't know about such places, So wouldn't turn up. Unless they are to be lured in with free mash potato.
• Or They could get people to Trap and vaccinate the badgers. It takes time and money, But is largely humane.
• Or they could mix the vaccine in with some food, and put it in and around there setts. (Like they're doing now, But just not shooting the badgers when they come out). Again it takes time and money.

However all them things take time, and a large sum of money. But then again so does keeping Murderers, Rapists and Peadophiles in prison. Our ultra 'Do gooder' society will not allow the worthless scum of human kind suffer, But will happily trick some badgers into being shot. But I assume there are no plans to re start fox hunting any time soon?

But why do I care? A man who has been pigeon shooting (granted I never even saw a bloody pigeon never mind shot one), Who regularly goes fishing and keeps the fish. And who enjoys a regular mixed grill. Why should I care about some badgers? Because been British we love an underdog, Badgers have it tough as it is. Most countryside animals are brown, or green to blend in. But badgers are grey, with a bloody great white stripe down the middle. Who thought that was good camouflage? I grew up watching Bodger and Badger (I still remember the theme tune). I'm bound to have an affinity to the poor little mites.
But Badgers are also 'my type of creature' They're quiet, they don't bark, squawk, or cry (Like dogs, Birds and childeren), They just go about there business in there own time, at there own pace, They don't demand attention or human intervention like those pesky horses. Badgers, well They're just chill.

The slightly more alarming thing is, That Bovine TB can also be passed on by other animals, Deer for example. How long before we start culling them? Or are we better off just napalming the whole of the British countryside?

'Lady' Adverts

Now, I've been alive for extremely close to 23 years, for exactly 100% of the years I've been Male. But like all modern men I try to be in touch with my feminine side, I struggle to reverse park out of empathy. (SISTERS!). However there are a few areas of the fairer sex I don't understand. Most of them have recently been brought to light in recent 'lady' adverts on the TV.
Number one; "Tampax pearl, with smoothest ever applicator" I understand all of the words, but not when they are all together, I mean what exactly is it that you are applicating? Polyfilla needs a an applicator, wallpaper paste needs an applicator, but this seems a step too far.
However assuming I am missing the point and whatever it is you are applicating needs a smooth applicator then what was being used before this revolutionary new smoothness was invented? Because the Gameboy advance was a revolutionary idea, but it still took a while for everyone to get one, so I can only assume there are women out there who have yet to get a 'pearl' but what are they using? Cheese graters? Sticks? Lion bars?.
Secondly "Always', new most flexible ever design" Now to my understanding these things have (for recent years anyway) always been made out of cottony/wooly sort of stuff? What can be more flexible than that? Air? So basically women are paying alot of money for air. And what is it about these products that makes it possible for women to smile happily, go roller blading and push a child on a swing? I assume its because women are no longer sticking tree bark down there undergarments.
That said advertising for women is alot more difficult than advertising for men. As proven by Gillette adverts, all men need is a series of high octane buzzwords and we'll buy it, you could advertise a toaster as 'stealth' and within months the entire male population would have one.
But despite the fact they raise more questions than answers the new 'lady products' at least mark some forward step in technology.
Unlike the village in Somerset where I've spent the last two weeks. I'm fairly sure the people their still sacrifice goats when they see a naked flame. One bloke we got talking to lost his driving license 3 times because of drink driving. I didn't even
Know you needed a license to drive a donkey. Never the less you'd have thought after the first time he'd have learnt. I can't wait till the tamagotchi phase hits the village. Then what will they sacrifice?
That said Somerset villages from the 1840's do have noticeably less fat people than Bridlington, as I discovered this morning when I attempted shopping. Aisle after aisle of smelly, inconsiderate fat people, with out of control fat, spoilt pikey kids. Kids who despite already been high on blue smarties (the under fours anyway, any of them over four where on ketamine) wanted more additive filled sweets, and they where quite willing to shout, and swear until there obese parents gave in. Refuge tends to be found in the 'whole foods' aisle, because they just look at fruit and nut with disgust, calling it 'foreign muck'. But don't spend too much time down there, or else you will end up paying over the odds for some out of date berries with some odd stuff mixed into it.

In The words of Geoffrey Boycott- He's out. My autobiography

In The Words of Geoffrey Boycott:

He’s Out

It’s the 21st of September 1991, Armenia has just been granted independence, American track and field athlete Jordan Hasay was born (according to Wikipedia) and it’s the international day of piece. Also There was a James Bond movie on the telly, I know that because that’s the reason my dad was 5 minutes late for my birth. And In The words of Geoffrey Boycott, He was out!. I imagine my birth to be like something out of Casualty, with blood and lots of sweating doctors runners around using big Latin words   . However it turns out the images in my head are wrong and the only thing remotely interesting was some rather strong language from my mum (for some bizarre reason).

My full name is James Nigel (don’t say anything) Martin named after the famous Formula 1 driver Nigel James Mansell (My dads idea) if my dad had his way my first name would be Nigel but my mum put her foot down (Thank God).

No doubt over the following few months I was being passed from relative to relative like some parcel at a child’s birthday party. No doubt I was bought enough clothes to stock every Oxfam shop this side of Watford. However this also meant a few boring months not containing much excitment.

Untill one day......

The Severance

The story of why my right thumb is bigger than my left.

My dad is a fan of DIY, now being a fan of DIY is very different to being good at DIY, for example Brunel was good at DIY because most of his work never killed or seriously injured someone. However my dad is not Brunel so when he decided that he was going to re do the hallway it was met with an air of sceptisism. But for a few days all was going well, The walls were stripped, Doors sanded etc. But a construction site no matter how small is very dangerous for a one and a half year old as a result i had always been kept well away. However this particular day I decided to go exploring (Even Ranulph Fiennes had to start somewhere) So off I walked into the hallway. My mum (who was making bolgnese sauce at the time) said she was first alerted to a problem when she heard loud screams and screeches coming from the hallway. She rushed into the hall to find I'd pulled a loose radiator off the wall and onto my thumb and it was hanging on by a thread (my thumb not the radiator). So my mum in what she describes as "caring mother mode" (otherwise know as a blind panic) wrapped my thumb tightly in a tea towel ( I know what your thinking and no Florence Nightingale). At that moment my dads boss came round to drop off my dad's wages, So he did his good samaritan role and rushed us up to the hospital, Where my dad arrived shortly later.

In the hospital (and at this point I would like to add that despite being a toddler with half of his thumb missing and a blood stained tea towel wrapped around my hand we still had to wait a good three hours, But I suppose that's Blairs Britain for you) Now where was I?...Oh yes In the hospital the Nurses were quite shocked at just how well a tea towel from the Shetland Isles can absob so much blood. Never the less they managed to stitch my thumb back up (I dont want to sound harsh but it does look like Abu Hamza had stitched it up with his hook!).But the Important thing is my thumb was back together, Later my gran rushed round with chocolate and sweets becaus they had run out of Morphine and Paracetamol at the Spa.

Burlington and the dreaded Blue playground

There I was stood bolt upright, chest out. My bright green jumper glistened (sort of), my black trousers didn't, My shiny new shoes were polished up like a mirror, and my hair was neat. My mum adjusted my collar and waved me goodbye as I joined the other kids as we all lined up outside Burlington Infants School ready for our first step on the path to success. I knew a few of the people their; Matt , Jordan  and Wayne  so I wasn't a complete stranger. We were greeted by a tall thin man called Mr Lee who was the headteacher at the time, I'll always remember him not only because he was a nice guy but also because of the Roald Dahl book The Vicar Of Nibbleswicke where a tall thin vicar called Robert Lee is diagnosed as being dyslexic which leads to various mishaps and capers over the prununciation of the words 'god' and 'sip'. But i dont suppose that's important. Mr Lee took us all to our classroom where we met our fellow classmates and teachers. Our teacher was Mrs Simpson who looked more like a rugby player than a teacher-Think Lawrence Dallaglio meets Dame Edna. Mrs Simpson was a nice teacher (until Rachel  had the infamous chair wetting incident, Now known as The Wetter Gate scandal!)

One of the features of Burlington was blue playground which was a small area of blue stuff which was meant to be softer than concrete so if any of the first years fell over they wouldn't end up seriously injured. But we were only allowed to use it on our first and last breaks so at lunchtime we had to use the BIG playground (ooooooooohhhh). It was on the BIG playground where I met Ashley S, And Matthew W, -I didn't know it then but these two would get me into big trouble many years later.

Burlington was alright really, It was there someone realised how crap my eyesight is and that meant I had to have visit's from Mrs Pecora (Mother of former Aston Villa goalkeeper Antoni who now play's for North Ferriby) She would give me eye test's which meant I got to miss a few lessons and I got to go in the staffroom. Now when your young you think that the staffroom will be a grotto filled with mood ligting, bottles of champagne and exotic dancing ladies........It wasn't far off that ok there was no Mood lighting or dancing ladies but there was a few half empty bottles of Jack Daniels.

Tights, Skirts I wore them all

Soon though came the time where I had to make the move from Burlington Infants to Burlington Primary, This mean't a different set of buildings, different teachers, proper lesson's like science and maths and not just playing in a sand pit and reading Bif and Chip. It also meant we had to do swimming with Mrs Williams, now I dont swim well i'm more of a depth swimmer than a legnth swimmer. But it gave me a chance to be a bit creative with my excuses (apparently Saturday night fever wont stop you swimming especially first thing on a Wednesday). Also at Burlington Primary we had proper school dinners they weren't very good in fact they were so bad they put me off for life and I have never eaten school dinners since. However there was a plus side Mrs Bradley who was one of the nice dinner ladies and she didn't force you to sit and eat if you didn't want to. (The funny thing is this summer I ended up working with Mrs Bradley husband who's a joiner -It's a small world but you wouldn't want to paint it)

At Burlington they also had a weird fixation with theme days (like a pub) The first of which was a Tudor day we had to come dressed up as Tudors and prat around for the day. I dont know which Tudor I came dressed as but I know he wore tights and a large stupid collar. We had a huge Tudor banquet,Our headteacher Mr O Rielly was Henry VIII (the resemblance is uncanny) But that was where any similarities with the Tudor's ended as I very much doubt the reason Anne Boylen was killed was becauseshe would't pass Henry the plate of crisps, i'm also pretty sure the Tudors didn't have sausages on sticks and lumps of cheese on sticks.

They also liked performing plays at Burlington and after getting thrown off the nativity on the first night for saying there wasroom at the inn, And not getting a part in Bugsey Malone I was determined to land a place in the Twelth Night (at least I think it was that one, The one were the guy says "if music be the food of love") Anyway I wanted to play Malvolio but teachers pet Ben  got that role. But the good news is they must have realised my cosiderable acting talent as I got a part

I was delighted, Until I got the script that is, Would you like to guess how many lines I got? 20? 50? 300? NO I got 1 line 1 BLOODY LINE!. But it was my line and I was determined to make it my own. My role was the vicar and my line was, wait for it.......(drum role please) "I pronounce you man and wife". I did toy with the idea of improving my line and maybe delivering it through the medium of interprative dance or going through the whole wedding vow procedings (But i'm sure Bill Shakespeare doesn't need my help). I was even more annoyed when I saw my costume, It was a huge white T-Shirt, a black skirt and a sparkly head dress that was unfolded and draped over my shoulders. But i'm convinced I got the biggest laugh of the night when I came on sporting a Freddy Mercury style fake moustache that Callum had dared me to wear. Oddly enough I was never asked to do anymore shows after that but I did have to mime a song during a production of Joseph.