I have suspended posting to this journal until I find another weblog service that can deal with spam, or Bravenet manage to figure out how to fix the problem. I am currently getting in excess of 30 spam comments each day, and am tired of deleting them. Anyone out there any suggestions about a blog provided that will filter spam comments better?
Who is responsible for my appearing 139th on the list of sites recommended by Google for those searching for the words 'Frottage Club'. Interestingly, this is 12 places below North Lincolnshire Country Council. Visitors to the site will delight in the following actual items from the "What's on in North Lincolnshire page".
BRAKE VAN TRIP AROUND CORUS SCUNTHORPE - 11am, lasting approx 3 hours. Not suitable for under 12 years.
SUCCOUR - Exhibition of figurative ceramics by Claire Curneen
A-TISSUE - Help us to make a giant mural from scrunched tissue paper to display in the gallery
I just can not compete with creative writing of that calibre.
Just in case anyone out there was wondering about lack of movement in this vicinity. 1) I have not had any inspiration to compose for some time. 2) I am pissed off with Bravenet (not their fault) for allowing all this spam in my comments, and the lack of any easy method to clear it out. In case anyone is tempted, the drugs advertised - valium, diet pills, phentermine are all cancer-inducing, and the CEOs of the debt consolidation, casino and online poker companies are all child-raping, disease ridden Republicans. love and peace Ken
My friends at the BBC persist in using misleading headlines. The latest example "Wasps thrown out of cup" needs explanation for the many foreign visitors (a Mrs Trellis of North Wales) who visit me here. This is not an article about displacement of members of the Vespoidea family, nor is it to do with White Anglo Saxon Protestants. Rather it refers to an obscure London sporting club, who, readers with long memories may recall, were mildly successful in the last century. However, like wasps round a jampot, they have been attracted to a downward spiral of failure of late. Let me make it quite clear that I do not take any delight in their downfall, and, at this season of goodwill, it would be inappropriate to use this forum as a means of taking a cheap shot at my CEO, who has a morbid fascination with this team. I would also like to clarify that the brevity of this essay is not due to my having typing difficulties because my sides ache. My man of the year, as if there could be any doubt, is the lovely, poetic and shy Graham Rowntree.
My old pal Boris has published an article on his site about cycling legislation. Someone has thoughtfully provided a photograph of him engaged in this pastime, by means of illustration. Fortunately, there was no such illustration to accompany his views on Mr Blunkett's predicament. Here is the comment I posted on the cycling controversy.
While endorsing everything that Mr Johnson so wisely advocates, I would hesitate to allow complete freedom to the cyclist, as there are some very dodgy characters around. Someone has kindly inserted a photograph of one such predatory male at the head of this article. Are our womenfolk safe when such people are at large? This man is obviously unaware of the effect he is having on passing females, who are in danger of becoming highly aroused at the sight of him, leading to anything from swooning to throwing themselves in a sexual frenzy in front of traffic. I suggest that legislation is introduced to force sex gods to cover themselves with large brown paper bags (with eye holes, obviously) when cycling in public. Being heterosexual by nature (although I must confess to experiencing a strange sensation in my stomach when viewing this picture), I can not help with deciding the criteria that determines which cyclists are subject to this ruling. Perhaps it would only be fair if it were applied to all. I hope this helps.
I submitted my contribution to proudofbritain.org some 2 weeks ago, but so far it has not appeared on the site. I am disappointed, and will be considering my voting options at the next election. I wrote something to the effect that the majority of the British population would not be gullible enough to fall for this bunch of jingoistic crap, and would rather rip out their eyes than pat Tony on the back. I thought my writing was witty, incisive and original. What is wrong with these people?
Two officers suspended after shooting dead unarmed man allowed to go back to work
This lovely little headline from the BBC news web site poses a few questions.
Why did the officers bother to shoot a dead unarmed man? Why was a dead unarmed man allowed to go back to work? What job did said dead unarmed man do? Which of us would be willing to pay and extra 50p a year on the licence fee, so that the Beeb could afford a few commas? Any ideas what this story is about?
There was an appalling programme on BBC the other evening that was the culmination of a childrens’ spelling competition. I caught the end of it. Like ‘Junior Mastermind’, it featured a significant proportion of obnoxious nerds, who even Gandhi would have beaten up had he been at school with them. I am not overly concerned about the way people look, but the parents of these children should be told not to let them out of the house looking like that. Of most concern, was the focus of the programme on the losers, and their reaction to having failed to spell ‘fellatio’ or 'clitoris’. The contestants have watched enough crap on TV to absorb and regurgitate the absurd emotional reactions of contestants on all of the other rubbish shows on the box. I suppose that this is inevitable. There are no longer any manufacturing jobs, and once we have filled the quota of accountants, marketeers, programmers, call centre staff and PR consultants, then the rest of the population will have to be employed to fill the schedules on the 9,743 television channels that will exist in the next 10 years. The training is evidently well on schedule. There may be some comfort drawn from there being at least 20 or so children in the UK who can spell. Perhaps they will become novelists, and give me some other way of passing the time when I switch the TV off for the last time.
I have temporarily disabled my tag board, because it was being spammed by some folk from a third rate purveyor of cancer inducing slimming pills. As a proponent of tolerance, and love and peace, I would like to make it clear that I welcome everyone here. I just hope that these people contract tertiary syphilis, that's all. If you come here, and are too shy to leave a comment, please use my guest book until the tag board is restored. I reserve the right to delete all entries that are neither insulting nor funny.
The BBC tell me: "Bolton fine El Hadji-Diouf two weeks' wages for spitting. More soon" I look forward to that no end. I know that the typical professional footballer is not a Mensa candidate, but one would have thought that he had learned his lesson. The BBC are always doing this, particularly in their news broadcasts: "A man is arrested for possession of 5,000 amphetamine tablets. Mike Moron has more." Other ambiguous headlines from the BBC news site today. "Bravery honour of lifeboat mother". I hope she had an epidural. "Sir Edmund blasts US road to pole." Now that commonwealth heroes are being reported as being involved in terrrorism, I suppose we can look forward to Twatto's attention. Watch out New Zealand, you are obviously first. I just wonder whether Mr Bush could be persuaded to raze Loughborough. I think he owes us something.
Even with this dullard, we will never have a head of state as stupid as Bush.
Even more preposterous than Bozza, is my old pal, Charlie Windsor. <He goes on to blame the "learning culture in schools" and a "child-centred system which admits no failure" and tells people they can achieve greatness without "putting in the necessary effort or having the natural abilities".> Yes, much better having a system where some jug-eared twat can gain publicity for his arcane ramblings solely on the basis of being descended from some psychotic medieval war lord. Please note, I have nothing against the jug-eared as a sub-species, not being possessed of a perfect physique myself, it is the twat bit that I wish to emphasize. In the words of a more palatable Royle, “necessary effort and natural abilities, my arse.”
My friends at BBC news have announced that “Head teachers in England could gain powers to tackle pupils carrying weapons.”
This measure is long overdue, although what the weapons are to be is not specified.
In my day, heavily armed headmasters were a common occurrence. At my primary school, Mr. Peberdy was seen roaming the corridors with a Magnum .44, and would accost dawdlers with the greeting “Go on, punk, make my day”. He would enter a classroom, and sign his name on the board using bullets from a small AK47 fired over his shoulder. No children were harmed during these demonstrations, but we all knew where we stood. There was some incentive to learn the eight times table, sadly lacking in today’s youth, because no one wanted to go home sporting a gunshot wound to the abdomen and have to explain to their parents why they got it. ‘Pepperpot’, as he was affectionately known, was also a dab hand with the bazooka, and would entertain the older children by targeting those tardy pupils arriving at school at . How we would howl with laughter, seeing the young children race along the footpath always no more than 4 feet ahead of massive explosions. Amazingly, the number of casualties was small, and there were fewer than 10 deaths each school year.
Discipline at my secondary school was even more severe, although being a trained ninja, Mr. Finch had no need of conventionalarmoury. He would enter assembly at the back of the hall, and arrive on the stage having completed 6 backward somersaults, only touching the ground once, and having removed, on the way, the shirts of those pupils not deemed to be paying attention – usually they did not even notice that their shirts had been removed. “We will sing hymn number 41,” he would announce “’ What is the sound of one hand clapping?’”. A swift karate chop to the kidneys was just as effective as a knife in the liver, and he would divert the weapons budget to more educational uses, such as the Bruce Lee memorial bonsai garden.
I posted the following on Boris's site, after he posted an article claiming responsibility for the outcome of the US election.
Laugh? I nearly voted for UKIP. If only I had children I could look forward to the day that I dangled my grandchildren on my knee and told them about Boris supporting George Bush, the playground bully who assumed the role of leader of the free world, and yet had no sense of responsibility for either the planet itself or its inhabitants. How they would have giggled when I told them that Boris had suggested that we get behind some prat who was even more of a warmonger and moron than Reagan. I would have told them about Boris - the pied piper of the age of selfishness, who would have led all his followers to Armageddon, if only his turgid little journal had a readership of more than seven. Sorry if this little message lacks much warmth and humour, it's just that I don't feel that the world is a warm and humourous place with the button in the hands of Dubya. It would be better left on a bus, or guarded by a bunch of inquisitive chimps.
I was surprised to hear on Radio 5 (usually so reliable) that 6 men had been found guilty of sexual assault on a remote Pacific Island.
I say, let them alone, unless the assault was such as to cause environmental damage to the island, what is the harm in it? It may be perverted, and I can not admit to ever having found any geographical feature particularly erotic (I do admit to being slightly aroused by Mrs Williamson talking about tortuous meanders in A level geography, but most things are arousing at that age), but let us concentrate the resources of our legal system on getting after the frog-buggerers and stoat molesters that one reads so much about these days.
Those wishing information with reference to how one goes about sexually assaulting remote islands are, sadly, looking in the wrong place. I am sure there is a web site for it somewhere.
My mother in law and father in law have gone to India for a while. Just so that you all know: 1) There is NO significance in the timing of this visit. 2) As far as I am aware, Halloween is not celebrated in India.