!!! BREAD IS DANGEROUS !!!

Scientists have shown how cannabis may trigger psychotic illnesses. This is the first line of this BBC article and it is a sad but very true fact. I’ve witnessed the damage Cannabis can do too someone’s mind first hand; the victim was and still is a very close friend. I might be a hypocrite because I’ve been known to suck off the jolly Green Giant’s smoking stink hole, but at least I’m not guilty of sticking my head in the sand unless I’m really wasted and on a beach. For too many people this drug is a symbol of a counter culture (to some even a religion) and they hold it in such esteem that they are unwilling to admit to its dangers; just ask any mental health professional and they will tell you, Dis shit mashes up da noggin ma bread-wren (or words to that effect).

I’m going highbrow! I’m not adverse to a bit of intellectualising, but in case you came here for the clips of animals manipulating their own genitals look in the links section (right hand column).

The following is a lecture from the TED talks site, I’ve mentioned it before, the talker is a psychologist and he is trying to tell us what makes us happy. Guess what it’s not necessarily getting what you want!

I found it real thought provoking like. Nice use of graphs. I thought you measured happiness with pictures of cats in hats, it turns out you use Monet prints.

I had my finger on the pulse of the internet the other day and I realised there were two hearts beating together. When the internet first came to life it was all about the porn; the only people making any money where the muff meddlers; the most popular search was simply ‘porn’ and teenage boys never had it so good. This was the first stage, Freud would have called it the anal stage. Now the internet is maturing, as we all know girls are more mature than boys, so I think it may be woman kind that is responsible for this beat, the internet’s second heart, cat pictures.

Right here’s the lowdown, people are calling them lolcats and they aren’t just referring to cat pictures anything cute and fluffy that a caption can be added to is in. This guy has written a great article theorising that a new pidgin language is developing via the captioning, he might be a bit to clever for his own good, but he has identified three distinct categories:

I'M IN UR X Ying your Z

Invisible Item

And the most important, to him, variant, Kitty Pidgin, in which as far as I understand it you just caption it, I can has X.

This one is clearly the most weirdly inernety, So to get you started these are the most important sites:

I Can Cheezburger

Cute Overload

Meme Cats

And this is where you make your own.

I have two cats, but I haven’t got any photos of them. I do wish I could capture on film the next time Freddy gay rapes Eric, but I don't feel any urge to take pictures of them. I guess I’ll always be firmly old school. Porn anyone?

I've been sent some mega stuff recently. This picture especially made me laugh:

And this letter from the archives of the Smithsonian Institute is right up my street:

Dear Sir:

Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled "211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post. Hominid skull." We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents "conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years ago." Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie doll, of the variety one of our staff, who has small children, believes to be the "Malibu Barbie".

It gets better read the rest here.

I also love this story about the Japanese that were conned into buying sheep thinking they were poodles. First suspicions were raised when they refused to eat dog food; one lady took her animal to the vet to have its claws cut and was told they were hooves!

I’ve read about it in the sun and the metro. It’s one of those fabulous stories that lend themselves brilliantly to pun headlines. The Sun went with ‘Ewe've been conned ladies’ and the Metro opted for ‘Dog owners 'fleeced' in poodle scam’. The Sun wins that one I think. The best I could come up with was: Woof woof Jap sheep. I'm sure you can do better.

I got a phone call this morning from my little bro warning me not to bother going to the train station as all the trains were cancelled. I checked the internet for the live departure board and it was completely red, every single train was cancelled. The reason, it turns out, is a 'mad fire', gas explosions the works. When I get outside you can see the tower of black smoke for miles around, and to compound the situation there's gridlock on the roads too. It seems the gas people are using some of the enormous amount of money I gave them to dig the roads up.

Check out this video of the fire in it's early stages, you also get a sample of the weird grammar that is used round here init! I quote, 'firebrigade taking some lonage like' and 'people are getting in their cars and ducking out here'.

Of course none of this bothers me. The gas explosion has made the news and provided me with a legitimate excuse. Just turn up when you can is the accepted procedure for Travel Chaos. So I get a paper and lesuirely stroll to Lewisham. On my way I pass several buses packed to bursting with late commuters; hundreds of cars going no where and angry lunatics in vans intermittently honking the ether. I witness a near miss between a police car speeding down a bus lane and an idiot who trys to use a gap in the traffic to get out of a side road, straight through the traffic jam and into the bus lane in front of the wailing police car.

When I get to Lewisham I get on the DLR, I don't get on the first train as it's too busy, I wait until I can get a seat. I read the paper and change at Bank for the circle line.I stroll into work,

'morning, get my message? yer I know, you could see the smoke, it was on the news! really, wow big deal hey'.

I sit down at the computer and then I see the clock. Ten o'clock, HALF AN HOUR LATE! Is that it, God dam it. That's signal failure late, not gas explosion late; what was I thinking! Why didn't I go back to bed.

Anyone that has been viewing my blog over the past few weeks will have noticed I’m rather fond of Page 3’s Keely Hazel, Bromley’s finest. I’ve been using her picture as my avatar, as I feel she represents my multi faceted personality perfectly, but I can’t decide which picture I like best, pink bikini, or orange bikini.

I was sent the pink bikini picture by a kind friend, it had passed through a number of inboxes on its travels round the world, as you would expect of a fine picture such as this. Some people had commented before forwarding the picture, I’ve condensed these comments for you here:

yuck
Quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen (open with care)!!!
This is just wrong!!!!!
YUK!
Job for Tel!!!
This is sick......
Holy moses!!
My new girlfriend
i'm afraid........(!)
WE DON'T WANT TO LOOK LIKE THIS.
She looks absolutely disgusting!!!!!
I figured, why not share this with all of you. (LOL)

Strange reaction to Bromley's finest!

I found this on the web today; I found it on this blog; and they found it in this article; and this person did the research.

Clearly this is not something original to me so I will simply summarise. This is a study of the happiness gained by having a family. How do you measure happiness, you can’t, simple as that, end of etc. However;

This bloke, his name is Hans, has done a study on identical twins and attempted to measure the happiness of those with children versus those without. I assume this is done by seeing how much they laugh when they're shown some pictures of cats in a variety of hats. These are the sensational bits he came up with:

1. Second and third children don't add to parents' happiness at all.
2. Mothers with one child are about 20 percent happier than those with no children.
3. A man who’s first born is a son enjoys a 75% larger happiness increase than a man who’s first born is a daughter. (Don’t forget second and third children have no effect.)

I am a second son, less fulfilling than a first daughter. It would appear a first born son is a tough act to follow. My question would be why was I so jealous of my little brother? I shouldn’t have been because apparently my parents didn’t give a shit about him! Yes, score.

I read a good article in today’s Times about e-petitions. So I went to the government website and discovered these in the rejected section

Mice to be allowed to travel free on public

Compulsory unicycle riding lessons for the armed forces.

A ban on the use of the Caps lock key

This one was rejected as it contained party political material

Jeremy Clarkson to be appointed to the Cabinet as special advisor on transport.

I particularly liked this one which was ‘outside the remit or powers of the Prime Minister and Government’:

We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to Remove the Living TV show Most haunted.

This however is my favourite of all:

‘We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to scrap 'E-voting' and 'E-petitions' for fear of 'E-balot-rigging' scams.’ This petition has been rejected because: It was an issue for which an e-petition is not the appropriate channel.

They're probably worried about vote rigging!

It would appear that this issue is more appropriate to e-petitioning, the campaign to instate Spandau Ballet's Gold as the new national anthem. Vote here.

This tickled me at work today, having revealed my face and identity is it a good idea to violate client confidentiality, yer whatever!

O.K. so an unnamed client is using us to get permission from their landlord to construct a new smoking shelter outside one of their properties. (Because of the new no smoking legislation). This is a snapshot from the plans.

It’s behind the bike shed. Come on, a sneaky fag behind the bike shed, you’ve gotta like that.

I also sent this email to myself at work, have I got a P45 wish or what.

I'm typing only bveacuse * * is sat next to me and I need to seem busy, even though it is half five and I should go home. Apparently working just a few minutes past half five is better than turning up half an hour early. He just looked at me pointedly. Score. How very maquveialina of me, now to hit send with a flourish and grab my coat

That is my spelling ability in it’s rawest form. (The funny thing is I didn't even take a coat to work!).

Here is a fwd I got today brilliant:

FWD: The following was written during the war from the British Ambassador to Moscow to Lord Pembroke in 1943. It has only just been released under the Freedom of Information Act. It is without question, excellent.

I concur fully. If you can’t read it, it says.

My Dear Reggie,

In these dark days man tends to look for little rays of light that shine from Heaven. My days are probably darker than yours, and I need. Oh God I do, all the light I can get. But I am a decent fellow and I do not want to be mean and selfish about what little brightness is shed upon me from time to time. So I propose to share with you a tiny flash that has illuminated my sombre life and tell you that God has given me a new Turkish colleague whose card tells me that he is called Mustapha Kunt.

: We all feel like that Reggie, now and then, especially when Spring is upon us, but few of us would care to put it on our cards. It takes a Turk to do that.

Sir Archibald Clark Kerr

You must have all seen this article about the House Rape by now. Apparently this party was touted over the net as the secret Skins Party, that's a T.V. show, and 200 odd people turned up and then trashed the place. (Alright it wasn't the skins party but there are other ways to vent your disappointment.)

My favourite quote on this story is from the 'furious' mother stating that the family had 'disbanded' following the disastrous event. It sounds like her family is some kind of army unit.

Anyway I thought I would give the internet a chance to redeem itself. I'm currently sorting out my front garden, it needs allot of work and the neighbours have started commenting. I think they are worried about a possible negative effect on house prices. Unfortunately the hangover has got the better of me and I've kind of given up half way through.

So here is the deal I’m having the unofficial Gardens World/Ground Force party. I live in ** Road in London, walk down the road until you see a garden with this pile of weeds in the drive way.

Grab a spade and get to work! It’s the front garden and I will only let you in the house if you’re not on acid or sumting, (reference to the Skins party invite). I’ll give you free beer. Go on Internet do something good.

Update: Several hours have passed and I've removed my address. Despite having 2 people view the site, so far, no one has arrived. My faith in humanity recedes ever further, it looks like I'm gonna have to do it myself.

Update 2: I got off my arse and finished the job off, very satisfying. My housemate Will assisted. There are well over a hundred houses in the street; I wonder what the combined contribution in house value we’ve just made. Even it was only 500 quid each that’s still 50 grand! Not bad for a days work.

I’ve been meaning to write this blog for some time, but for various reasons failed to get round to it. If you’re a regular reader, if I have such a thing, then you will know I had a period of sobriety in March (I think). The 30 days ended on a Thursday, this meant I had a whole weekend to get horribly drunk and undo all the good work done in the previous 30 days. A friend of mine took some photos.

I had wanted to post them along with memories of the night, but what hazy recollection I had has now long since passed so here are the photos (heads removed to protect the innocent) and whatever commentary remains.

Preamble, I got drunk with some teachers and one of them had some chalk:

An idea is born.

Chick with Dick

Gang Bang

Look everyone I’ve pulled

Now everyone chase each other round trying to draw on each other!

Then go home, pass out using an Xbox for a cushion and have a Taiwanese girl playfully slap you about

Incidentally the next morning two of my becocked friends had to go to a Church because they’re getting married and the Vicar wanted to give them some preamble. They woke up very late with hangovers with similar symptoms to mine and, in a hurry, pull on their clothes from the night before. Luckily they remembered the chalk phalluses and wiped them off with a wet scouring pad. Later that day they notice with genuine horror that these damp patches have dried and the chalk cocks have returned. They had spent the whole afternoon solemnly talking about the responsibilities of marriage with chalk dicks drawn on their legs! The vicar must have thought it was some kind of Pagan protest. I’m sure Jesus will forgive them!

Fuck me, one day back at work and I feel like I'm gonna have nervous breakdown. I was there till half eight.

The highlight of the day:

"Charlie what are you doing?" the department director barks across the room without even looking up, as is his usual style.

"Writing a letter to a landlord" Charlie replies.

"Come over here when you've done that and help me with this, that's as long as your not too busy messing around on Google Earth like M Johnson"

He knows my name!! This is honest to God the first time the guy has actually used my name!

I don’t care how accomplished the guy is, he is a fucking retard; he spent five minutes today describing to someone loudly on the telephone that my half Spanish colleague has Salsa lessons with Dagos. He once asked his secretary for his own address for Fuck's sake.

Fuck work, roll on the weekend.

P.S. It was Google maps and I was showing my Australian Colleague the best beach in The U.K. He is taking Friday off to go to the beach.

P.P.S. He actually used my 'real' name, but I felt it might be wise to use a pseudonym to publicly slag off my employer.

I got back from a Skiing holiday in the Austrian Alps on Saturday. This was the most expensive holiday I’ve ever had! Austria is beautiful and apparently reserved entirely for well-off white people. (I think poverty stricken black people have a similar deal going for parts of Africa).

I got back to one of the nicest Easter weekends ever. Apparently the Yorkshire Moors are on fire. I go away for one week . . . Since when was April Bush-Fire Season.

I’ve spent the last few days tidying up the garden, planting seeds, and last night Kate and I went up too Blackheath to the travelling fair. I paid the waltzer man an extra pound to spin us faster; we got our money’s worth, he went mental. We were wandering aimlessly afterwards feeling very ill. We didn’t know which way was up or down, let alone the way home!

Anyway back to the point. I have a video of me skiing. This was my first time skiing and I only had three days of lessons. I clearly think I did rather well as I spent about an hour trying to get this off the phone onto the computer:

Thanks to my cousin Paul for the camera work.

Thou shalt spell que, Q U E, not Q U E U E, regardless of what the Oxford English dictionary tells you.

Is it!(?)