There's unrest brewing down Gorgie way, as the Jam Tarts (aka "Heart of Midlothian Football Club") have parted company with Robbo (aka John Robertson : The Hammer of the Hibees aka "Hibernian Football Club").
I can't feel too sorry for him though. Won't he get a big juicy pay-off to compensate him for the severance of his contract?
I'd love that!
He'll get another job fairly smartish anyway. He seems a likeable sort and has had a fairly decent season with the Jambos.
It doesn't tend to happen in IT contracts though. Somewhat annoyingly, the employer generally insists that you have to work the agreed FULL term of your contract, and will only get paid for the hours you have ACTUALLY worked.
This is but a small step up from organised slavery and degrades all those who participate in this repressive system.
I'd much prefer it if a new Chief Executive joined the company half way through my contract and decided he wanted to bring his own man in, and paid me off.
I'd be ecstatic.
Anyway if the Lithuanian guy who is taking over Hearts wants his own man in, well that's his perogative. He is contributing a few squillion quid to the Hearts coffers (allegedly).
The Edinburgh Evening News apparently thinks it's all Chris Robinson's fault (aka The Pieman). This is a bit unfair, as there were 6 anti-Robertsons on the board, but the paper couldn't resist some more cheap tabloidesque potshots at The Pieman.
Maybe the Robinsons just have a traditional dislike of the quite-similar-sounding Robertsons?
Which came first? The Barley Water or the Raspberry Jam?
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
08/05/05 This Sporting Life
Continuing the trend of sporting overkill, I played in a golf competition today, carding a rather disappointing 87.
What with the football yesterday, I walked round the course in the style of The Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Such was the quality of my golf, I would probably have scored just as well if I'd used a big axe to hit the ball with.
I was playing with 2 people I hadn't met before, having just signed up on a tee-off sheet.
I didn't really know anything more about them at the end of the match as few words were spoken. I'm usually a bit of a blabber, but there wasn't any rapphort going on there at all. It doesn't really bother me, as sometimes I can't be arsed.
It was as if these 2 guys had reached a point in their lives where they'd stopped recruiting new friends, feeling they'd reached a point where they had a comfortable social circle which didn't require topping up.
So rather than having to plough through the necessary "getting-to-know-you" small talk again, they've decided to pull up their social drawbridges.
But as I say, I didn't really mind as I was knackered anyway.
I was shocked to discover that the poster for my upcoming comedy promotion on THURSDAY 12TH MAY at the ROSEBERY HALL in SOUTH QUEENSFERRY (SHOW STARTS 7.15PM), had been removed from the wall!
Somebody obviously felt it was inappropriate advertising in the clubhouse.
Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise....
Do I really want golfers to come along to the show on Thursday? Am I crazy?
What with the football yesterday, I walked round the course in the style of The Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Such was the quality of my golf, I would probably have scored just as well if I'd used a big axe to hit the ball with.
I was playing with 2 people I hadn't met before, having just signed up on a tee-off sheet.
I didn't really know anything more about them at the end of the match as few words were spoken. I'm usually a bit of a blabber, but there wasn't any rapphort going on there at all. It doesn't really bother me, as sometimes I can't be arsed.
It was as if these 2 guys had reached a point in their lives where they'd stopped recruiting new friends, feeling they'd reached a point where they had a comfortable social circle which didn't require topping up.
So rather than having to plough through the necessary "getting-to-know-you" small talk again, they've decided to pull up their social drawbridges.
But as I say, I didn't really mind as I was knackered anyway.
I was shocked to discover that the poster for my upcoming comedy promotion on THURSDAY 12TH MAY at the ROSEBERY HALL in SOUTH QUEENSFERRY (SHOW STARTS 7.15PM), had been removed from the wall!
Somebody obviously felt it was inappropriate advertising in the clubhouse.
Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise....
Do I really want golfers to come along to the show on Thursday? Am I crazy?
Sunday, May 08, 2005
07/05/05 Can't Stand Up
I had my 3rd game of football in 4 days today. A Scottish select were playing against a team of Norwegians across for a boozy weekend.
Predictably Scotland lost, but we put up a stubborn resistance, and I'm sure Berti Vogts would have found some reasonable excuses for our defeat, were he our manager.
Their goalkeeper had played for a semi-pro Norwegian club, and had apparently played against AS Roma. He had the biggest hands I've ever seen in my life. They were like these big foam hands that wacky people tend to wear at football matches and in the "Gladiators" studio audience.
I could hardly walk after the game, and I think my knees are desperately trying to tell me something. I might have to cancel my River Dance appearances, or at the very least miss out on the Matinees.
At night I did my first stand-up for a month at the "Four Ways Bar" in Airdrie.
It wasn't my finest hour, but I got fairly respectable laughs throughout. Nothing to write home about though.
I tried a Dalek routine that myself and Dave Reilly had come up with while bantering before the recent Karl Heinz Stockhausen show.
It concerned the predeliction of the Dalek to reach a sexual climax prematurely, thus explaining the reason why there was only one left.
Unfortunately, it bombed :-)....However, I blame my rather poor delivery, not the material itself, and I will give it another couple of run outs before making a final judgement.
It's amazing how quickly you lose your timing. It's just been a 4 week gap, but I was all over the place, getting the sequences of material wrong, missing bits out.
I reckon you need to do at least a gig a week to keep everything ticking over.
Predictably Scotland lost, but we put up a stubborn resistance, and I'm sure Berti Vogts would have found some reasonable excuses for our defeat, were he our manager.
Their goalkeeper had played for a semi-pro Norwegian club, and had apparently played against AS Roma. He had the biggest hands I've ever seen in my life. They were like these big foam hands that wacky people tend to wear at football matches and in the "Gladiators" studio audience.
I could hardly walk after the game, and I think my knees are desperately trying to tell me something. I might have to cancel my River Dance appearances, or at the very least miss out on the Matinees.
At night I did my first stand-up for a month at the "Four Ways Bar" in Airdrie.
It wasn't my finest hour, but I got fairly respectable laughs throughout. Nothing to write home about though.
I tried a Dalek routine that myself and Dave Reilly had come up with while bantering before the recent Karl Heinz Stockhausen show.
It concerned the predeliction of the Dalek to reach a sexual climax prematurely, thus explaining the reason why there was only one left.
Unfortunately, it bombed :-)....However, I blame my rather poor delivery, not the material itself, and I will give it another couple of run outs before making a final judgement.
It's amazing how quickly you lose your timing. It's just been a 4 week gap, but I was all over the place, getting the sequences of material wrong, missing bits out.
I reckon you need to do at least a gig a week to keep everything ticking over.
06/05/05 "We Win"
ok, so Labour win an unprecedented 3rd Term. It's all very low key though. It's as if people secretly crave another repressive right-wing Tory Government, so that we can all have another big party when we get rid of them. Just like we did in 1997.
There's such bollocks talked about Tony Blair being a "lame duck" PM because he only has a majority of 66.
Labour in the 70s and 80s would have been delirious to be in that position.
Well anyway, I quaffed a few glasses of wine to celebrate.
I crashed out fairly early as the exit polls seemed to be uncannily accurate.
There's really only about 1 second of tension in the whole night. That being the time between the first Big Ben bong at ten o'clock, and a lesser spotted Dimbleby announcing the exit poll findings.
I was sorry I'd missed George Galloway. That seemed the only moment of genuine drama.
He's full of shit but I respect his indefatigability, that's for sure.
PM Question Time will be more interesting in the upcoming session.
I spent the day trying to write material for the comedy night I'm promoting and compering next week in South Queensferry.
I'm not going to do my usual material, but intend to banter on all things local.
I think that's a safer option as my weird stuff will probably bomb.
I've no idea what ages/background the audience will be (assuming there is one), so best just to do the cheeky chappy piss taker persona.
I've booked a samba band to play outside the venue before the doors open, and also do a 10 minute spot during the show.
It'll be good to mix things up a little.
I might play my congas with the samba band. Or will that me look somewhat wanky and a pathetic show-off? hmmm...
There's such bollocks talked about Tony Blair being a "lame duck" PM because he only has a majority of 66.
Labour in the 70s and 80s would have been delirious to be in that position.
Well anyway, I quaffed a few glasses of wine to celebrate.
I crashed out fairly early as the exit polls seemed to be uncannily accurate.
There's really only about 1 second of tension in the whole night. That being the time between the first Big Ben bong at ten o'clock, and a lesser spotted Dimbleby announcing the exit poll findings.
I was sorry I'd missed George Galloway. That seemed the only moment of genuine drama.
He's full of shit but I respect his indefatigability, that's for sure.
PM Question Time will be more interesting in the upcoming session.
I spent the day trying to write material for the comedy night I'm promoting and compering next week in South Queensferry.
I'm not going to do my usual material, but intend to banter on all things local.
I think that's a safer option as my weird stuff will probably bomb.
I've no idea what ages/background the audience will be (assuming there is one), so best just to do the cheeky chappy piss taker persona.
I've booked a samba band to play outside the venue before the doors open, and also do a 10 minute spot during the show.
It'll be good to mix things up a little.
I might play my congas with the samba band. Or will that me look somewhat wanky and a pathetic show-off? hmmm...
Friday, May 06, 2005
05/05/05 Great Parlour Games of the 20th Century
interesting date today.
The previous date in this sequence would have been 4th April 2004.
For a moment I thought that it was 1904. That would have made this first paragraph more interesting. Never mind.
Great Parlour Games of the 20th Century
No. 23 "Goodnight John Boy!"
Props ; A rolled up newspaper (preferably a chunky broadsheet)
The best environment for this game to prosper is in a house after an evening of hearty drinking at a local hostelry, involving ideally 10-12 participants.
Each participant in the game assumes a character name from the much loved, groundbreaking show "The Waltons".
The contestants sit in a circle.
A volunteer is selected to initially stand up and go in the middle, wielding the rolled up newspaper.
He says "good night" to any character in the circle, eg "Goodnight Mary Ellen".
The contestant who has adopted the monicker "Mary Ellen" must say goodnight to another selected Walton's character. eg "Good Night Wreckless"
Any hesitation can be seized upon by the person in the middle, and they are at liberty to thwack "Mary Ellen" over the head with the newspaper if they hit her before she utters the next "Good night..."
Furthermore, any character who has been said "Good Night" to, cannot immediately say "Goodnight" to the character who has just said "Good Nght" to them, nor can they ever say "Good Night" to the person in the middle.
Any offenders are summarily thwacked over the head and then become the person in the middle.
With the addition of liberal amounts of alcohol into the equation, reaction times are shot to pieces and the game becomes a festival of slapstick violence.
Obviously, this was in the days before computer games...
The previous date in this sequence would have been 4th April 2004.
For a moment I thought that it was 1904. That would have made this first paragraph more interesting. Never mind.
Great Parlour Games of the 20th Century
No. 23 "Goodnight John Boy!"
Props ; A rolled up newspaper (preferably a chunky broadsheet)
The best environment for this game to prosper is in a house after an evening of hearty drinking at a local hostelry, involving ideally 10-12 participants.
Each participant in the game assumes a character name from the much loved, groundbreaking show "The Waltons".
The contestants sit in a circle.
A volunteer is selected to initially stand up and go in the middle, wielding the rolled up newspaper.
He says "good night" to any character in the circle, eg "Goodnight Mary Ellen".
The contestant who has adopted the monicker "Mary Ellen" must say goodnight to another selected Walton's character. eg "Good Night Wreckless"
Any hesitation can be seized upon by the person in the middle, and they are at liberty to thwack "Mary Ellen" over the head with the newspaper if they hit her before she utters the next "Good night..."
Furthermore, any character who has been said "Good Night" to, cannot immediately say "Goodnight" to the character who has just said "Good Nght" to them, nor can they ever say "Good Night" to the person in the middle.
Any offenders are summarily thwacked over the head and then become the person in the middle.
With the addition of liberal amounts of alcohol into the equation, reaction times are shot to pieces and the game becomes a festival of slapstick violence.
Obviously, this was in the days before computer games...
Thursday, May 05, 2005
04/05/05 May The Fourth Be With You!
Ha Ha...I couldn't resist that crap old joke...!
"In the end, I will remember not the words of my enemies, but the silence of my friends", Martin Luther King
This quote has no particular relevance to any recent event that has befallen myself. I just like it. Very thought provoking. Well, it certainly provoked my thought in a fairly provocative kind of way.
Linking to an unrelated non-sequitur, I remember an anecdote from the film made about Jerry Seinfeld, "Comedian", where he's talking to a young up-and-coming comic, who worries about the career progression his non-comedy peers have accomplished, and wonders whether he has made the right vocational choice?
Apparently, once upon a time, The Glen Miller Orchestra were making their way to a concert via a plane. They couldn't get to the airport due to snow, and were forced to land in a field, and literally march their way to the hall a few miles away.
Along the way, they came across a little cottage, and peeked in the windows to see a nice family happily sitting down to a huge meal in front of a roaring log fire.
This was in stark contrast to them in their muddied uniforms they wore as they continued their frozen march.
One band member looked at another and asked, "How can they live like that?"
Anyway, I live in constant fear of not being misunderstood...so there.
I got offered a gig this Saturday in Airdrie (7/5). Hopefully this will be better than the disastrous show I appeared in at The Call Centre in Airdrie.
A review will follow.
"In the end, I will remember not the words of my enemies, but the silence of my friends", Martin Luther King
This quote has no particular relevance to any recent event that has befallen myself. I just like it. Very thought provoking. Well, it certainly provoked my thought in a fairly provocative kind of way.
Linking to an unrelated non-sequitur, I remember an anecdote from the film made about Jerry Seinfeld, "Comedian", where he's talking to a young up-and-coming comic, who worries about the career progression his non-comedy peers have accomplished, and wonders whether he has made the right vocational choice?
Apparently, once upon a time, The Glen Miller Orchestra were making their way to a concert via a plane. They couldn't get to the airport due to snow, and were forced to land in a field, and literally march their way to the hall a few miles away.
Along the way, they came across a little cottage, and peeked in the windows to see a nice family happily sitting down to a huge meal in front of a roaring log fire.
This was in stark contrast to them in their muddied uniforms they wore as they continued their frozen march.
One band member looked at another and asked, "How can they live like that?"
Anyway, I live in constant fear of not being misunderstood...so there.
I got offered a gig this Saturday in Airdrie (7/5). Hopefully this will be better than the disastrous show I appeared in at The Call Centre in Airdrie.
A review will follow.
03/05/05 It was never a goal anyway...!
Oh dear...Liverpool were not supposed to beat Chelsea in the Champs league semi-final on Tuesday night.
This has made a large dent in my recent splendid run of form on my Betfair.com football betting system. D'oh!
In spite of all that, I'm happy to see Liverpool in the final as I've always liked them, and the all-conquering team of the 70s and 80s is still my favourite ever.
But the bastards cost me a lot of cash.
I'll have to go back to selling matches on Coates Gardens and cancel the crate of Chateau Neuf du Pape forthwith.
More scaffolding has gone up at the front of my flat (in front of the existing scaffolding).
Just about all the light getting into my basment flat has been blocked off. It's now like living in Hitler's bunker. Funnily enough, I was thinking of going to Poland for a holiday. I must stop thumping my desk every time I try to make a point when I'm speaking to someone on the phone.
This has made a large dent in my recent splendid run of form on my Betfair.com football betting system. D'oh!
In spite of all that, I'm happy to see Liverpool in the final as I've always liked them, and the all-conquering team of the 70s and 80s is still my favourite ever.
But the bastards cost me a lot of cash.
I'll have to go back to selling matches on Coates Gardens and cancel the crate of Chateau Neuf du Pape forthwith.
More scaffolding has gone up at the front of my flat (in front of the existing scaffolding).
Just about all the light getting into my basment flat has been blocked off. It's now like living in Hitler's bunker. Funnily enough, I was thinking of going to Poland for a holiday. I must stop thumping my desk every time I try to make a point when I'm speaking to someone on the phone.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
02/05/05 Poster
It's amazing how long you can faff about trying to create a basic A4 size poster for an upcoming new comedy night.
I still think it looks pretty crap, but it'll have to do.
I'm not entirely convinced that my idea to promote a gig in South Queensferry is a good one yet. And deciding to compere it myself is a slightly risky venture as well, as it's unknown territory for me.
But I want to have a go.
I think Donald Campbell said that just before he made his water speed world record attempt in the Lake District.
Anyway, the way I see it, if you are hellbent on making a fool of yourself and experiencing total humiliation in public, it's best to do it in your home town in front of people you've known all your life. People who will never let you forget the unmitigated awfulness of your compering debut, and will bring it up endlessly in future conversations, effortlessly psychologically scarring you.
I can't wait.
I put a few posters up in South Queensferry. I found the reactions of bar managers and shop asistants occasionally very funny when I asked them if I could put up a poster. It was a reaction I'd expect if I came in asking them if they were interested in some black market "weapons grade" plutonium or some cheap heroin.
They seemed very suspicious of my motives, and carefully read through my poster at least a couple of times before finally deciding that it was deemed "window-worthy" (or not).
I felt like kneeling down, clutching a flat cap and exclaiming emotionally in a poor cockney accent... "Oh Thank You, guv...thank you, guv...you're a proper gent..and that's the gawd honest truth...!"
On reflection, I decided not to do this.
This is South Queensferry we're talking about here!
I also took a calculated risk and put a comedy poster in the Clubhouse of my local Golf club.
This is risky, and I half expect a SWAT team to kick down my door, wielding uzis,
(composed of Golf Club Committee Members), and whisk me away for interrogation on suspicion of displaying inappropriate advertising on the Clubhouse notice board.
I might never be seen again....
They might even cut my handicap...
They have the power to generate fear!
I still think it looks pretty crap, but it'll have to do.
I'm not entirely convinced that my idea to promote a gig in South Queensferry is a good one yet. And deciding to compere it myself is a slightly risky venture as well, as it's unknown territory for me.
But I want to have a go.
I think Donald Campbell said that just before he made his water speed world record attempt in the Lake District.
Anyway, the way I see it, if you are hellbent on making a fool of yourself and experiencing total humiliation in public, it's best to do it in your home town in front of people you've known all your life. People who will never let you forget the unmitigated awfulness of your compering debut, and will bring it up endlessly in future conversations, effortlessly psychologically scarring you.
I can't wait.
I put a few posters up in South Queensferry. I found the reactions of bar managers and shop asistants occasionally very funny when I asked them if I could put up a poster. It was a reaction I'd expect if I came in asking them if they were interested in some black market "weapons grade" plutonium or some cheap heroin.
They seemed very suspicious of my motives, and carefully read through my poster at least a couple of times before finally deciding that it was deemed "window-worthy" (or not).
I felt like kneeling down, clutching a flat cap and exclaiming emotionally in a poor cockney accent... "Oh Thank You, guv...thank you, guv...you're a proper gent..and that's the gawd honest truth...!"
On reflection, I decided not to do this.
This is South Queensferry we're talking about here!
I also took a calculated risk and put a comedy poster in the Clubhouse of my local Golf club.
This is risky, and I half expect a SWAT team to kick down my door, wielding uzis,
(composed of Golf Club Committee Members), and whisk me away for interrogation on suspicion of displaying inappropriate advertising on the Clubhouse notice board.
I might never be seen again....
They might even cut my handicap...
They have the power to generate fear!
Monday, May 02, 2005
01/05/05 It's all Nick Hornby's fault...
So anyway, last night Channel 4 had a 4 hour prime time slot for the "Most Watched TV Programmes" (decade by decade).
This is definitely the worst example of a deceased horse receiving brutal corporal punishment I've ever seen.
How many List themes are there left?
"Top 100 Serial Killers"
"Top 100 Open University Lectures"
"Top 100 Amusing Anecdotes By B-List Celebrities"
"Top 100 Numbers Between 1 and 100"
"Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Top 100 Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Russian Dolls Collections"
"Top 100 Top 100 Russian Dolls Collections" yeah yeah yeah, you can say where I'm going with all this.
It has to stop.
Mass burnings of Nick Hornby's "Hi-Fidelity" should take place on hilltops throughout the land as we try to end the scourge of obsessive list making.
Anyone overheard volunteering their "Top 5" of anything, in public, should be set upon immediately and bludgeoned to death with a blunt instrument.
This may seem an extreme measure, but has to be seen as a proportionate response to the severity of the current situation.
We must act.
It isn't too late to stop this deadly scourge.
This is definitely the worst example of a deceased horse receiving brutal corporal punishment I've ever seen.
How many List themes are there left?
"Top 100 Serial Killers"
"Top 100 Open University Lectures"
"Top 100 Amusing Anecdotes By B-List Celebrities"
"Top 100 Numbers Between 1 and 100"
"Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Top 100 Top 100 TV Lists Programmes"
"Top 100 Russian Dolls Collections"
"Top 100 Top 100 Russian Dolls Collections" yeah yeah yeah, you can say where I'm going with all this.
It has to stop.
Mass burnings of Nick Hornby's "Hi-Fidelity" should take place on hilltops throughout the land as we try to end the scourge of obsessive list making.
Anyone overheard volunteering their "Top 5" of anything, in public, should be set upon immediately and bludgeoned to death with a blunt instrument.
This may seem an extreme measure, but has to be seen as a proportionate response to the severity of the current situation.
We must act.
It isn't too late to stop this deadly scourge.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
30/04/05 In The Dark
The Karl Heinz Stockhausen gig was a very curious experience. I have to confess to my finger being a considerable distance away from "the pulse" with regards to this particular music genre.
He's an avuncular 70 something German. He came on stage did a brief introduction, going on to explain the acoustic difficulties he had strived to overcome at the venue, (his sound is "octophonic").
Then the lights go off completely and he goes off to control events from his mixing desk.
The first piece didn't quite do it for me. I just felt like I was stuck inside a Space Invaders machine. I wasn't sure whether the piece was meant to have a contemporary relevance, or whether we were supposed to admire how ahead of his time the Composer was, in his innovative approach to electronic music, (it was composed in 1958).
The second piece after the interval was a lot longer (69 minutes), but much more accessible. There was more development of a theme with a bigger more symphonic sound.
I found it relaxing just shutting my eyes in the darkness and letting it all wash over me.
Of course, being the Queen's Hall, it was again suffocatingly hot, and I had severe numb bum syndrome from sitting on the ingeniously uncomfortably designed pews.
I'd say I enjoyed it overall though. 6.5/10.
I got a lift back from Dave. I was grateful for the lift, but became irritated at Dave's habit of ignoring the area designated for cycles at traffic lights, and driving right onto it.
This is just a token gesture by the Council to make Edinburgh's roads more "cycle friendly", as is their rather half hearted attempt to introduce the odd cycle lane here and there.
Dave justifies this slightly fascist tendency by citing the bad behaviour of cyclists ie going through red lights, cycling on the pavements, weaving in and out of lanes etc etc
This undoubtedly is a valid criticism of SOME cyclists' behaviour, but it is hardly fair to apply it to the whole of the cycling population.
If this logic were applied to car drivers by cyclists, they could be all categorised as anti-social, polluting, child killing (the UK has the highest rate of child mortality due to car accidents, in Europe), speeding, aggressive fuckwits.
He's an avuncular 70 something German. He came on stage did a brief introduction, going on to explain the acoustic difficulties he had strived to overcome at the venue, (his sound is "octophonic").
Then the lights go off completely and he goes off to control events from his mixing desk.
The first piece didn't quite do it for me. I just felt like I was stuck inside a Space Invaders machine. I wasn't sure whether the piece was meant to have a contemporary relevance, or whether we were supposed to admire how ahead of his time the Composer was, in his innovative approach to electronic music, (it was composed in 1958).
The second piece after the interval was a lot longer (69 minutes), but much more accessible. There was more development of a theme with a bigger more symphonic sound.
I found it relaxing just shutting my eyes in the darkness and letting it all wash over me.
Of course, being the Queen's Hall, it was again suffocatingly hot, and I had severe numb bum syndrome from sitting on the ingeniously uncomfortably designed pews.
I'd say I enjoyed it overall though. 6.5/10.
I got a lift back from Dave. I was grateful for the lift, but became irritated at Dave's habit of ignoring the area designated for cycles at traffic lights, and driving right onto it.
This is just a token gesture by the Council to make Edinburgh's roads more "cycle friendly", as is their rather half hearted attempt to introduce the odd cycle lane here and there.
Dave justifies this slightly fascist tendency by citing the bad behaviour of cyclists ie going through red lights, cycling on the pavements, weaving in and out of lanes etc etc
This undoubtedly is a valid criticism of SOME cyclists' behaviour, but it is hardly fair to apply it to the whole of the cycling population.
If this logic were applied to car drivers by cyclists, they could be all categorised as anti-social, polluting, child killing (the UK has the highest rate of child mortality due to car accidents, in Europe), speeding, aggressive fuckwits.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
29/04/05 Laurie Anderson
Saw her last night at the Queens Hall. Excellent stuff. Basically just talking over atmospheric, percussive tape loops, punctuated by her playing an electronic violin.
Her voice has a deeply hypnotic, mesmeric quality to it.
All this certainly wouldn't work if she had an irritating voice.
If Jonathon Ross had been the narrator, I'd have left after 5 minutes.
I'd never seen her before, but would heartily recommend her to my readers.
Some great angles on 9/11, beauty and NASA.
The trouble with the Queens Hall is that the temperature is within the realms of a blast furnace, and there are inevitable moments when your concentration lapses as you struggle to avoid nodding off. But overall, a top notch show.
Carrying on my avant garde theme I am following this up tomorrow by going to see Karl Heinz Stockhausen at the same venue.
Looks like we have a 3rd person for the "Park's Circus" Fringe show. An Irish bloke called Patrick Hyland has signed up. We now have an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman. There's a joke there...!
Well, hopefully at least one over the course of the 70 minutes.
I'm looking forward to it now.
I've decided that we will all rock!
The End.
Her voice has a deeply hypnotic, mesmeric quality to it.
All this certainly wouldn't work if she had an irritating voice.
If Jonathon Ross had been the narrator, I'd have left after 5 minutes.
I'd never seen her before, but would heartily recommend her to my readers.
Some great angles on 9/11, beauty and NASA.
The trouble with the Queens Hall is that the temperature is within the realms of a blast furnace, and there are inevitable moments when your concentration lapses as you struggle to avoid nodding off. But overall, a top notch show.
Carrying on my avant garde theme I am following this up tomorrow by going to see Karl Heinz Stockhausen at the same venue.
Looks like we have a 3rd person for the "Park's Circus" Fringe show. An Irish bloke called Patrick Hyland has signed up. We now have an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman. There's a joke there...!
Well, hopefully at least one over the course of the 70 minutes.
I'm looking forward to it now.
I've decided that we will all rock!
The End.
28/04/05 Tally Ho!
Just caught the tail end of Tony Blair getting harangued by the public "live" on BBC1s "Question Time".
I've never seen him look so uncomfortable. He was getting the usual Iraq, NHS stuff and was sweating profusely and looking ill at ease. Like a hunted animal.
Ironic since he'd recently banned hunting.
It's definitely a feature of UK life that politicians are loathed beyond measure. There is no deference to the position of "Prime Minister". You get the impression that the spitting, snarling mob would love to grab him and rip him apart.
I don't think an elected leader would get such a hard time in any other western country.
In the US, there is a massive opposition to Dubya, but there is always an underlying respect and deference to the actual office of President, regardless of who the current encumbent is.
In some ways our cynicism is a good thing. In other ways I'm not sure if I like it.
We're all very dismissive and sneering of anyone in public office. Admittedly it is often deserved, but personally there's loads of things ole TB has done that I think have merit (I'm not going to bother listing them, out as I don't want to sound like a party political broadcast),
and having lived through the Thatcher years and the Blair years, I know which I prefer.
Well that wasn't very funny was it?
No-one said comedy had to be funny...that's all I've got to say really.
I've never seen him look so uncomfortable. He was getting the usual Iraq, NHS stuff and was sweating profusely and looking ill at ease. Like a hunted animal.
Ironic since he'd recently banned hunting.
It's definitely a feature of UK life that politicians are loathed beyond measure. There is no deference to the position of "Prime Minister". You get the impression that the spitting, snarling mob would love to grab him and rip him apart.
I don't think an elected leader would get such a hard time in any other western country.
In the US, there is a massive opposition to Dubya, but there is always an underlying respect and deference to the actual office of President, regardless of who the current encumbent is.
In some ways our cynicism is a good thing. In other ways I'm not sure if I like it.
We're all very dismissive and sneering of anyone in public office. Admittedly it is often deserved, but personally there's loads of things ole TB has done that I think have merit (I'm not going to bother listing them, out as I don't want to sound like a party political broadcast),
and having lived through the Thatcher years and the Blair years, I know which I prefer.
Well that wasn't very funny was it?
No-one said comedy had to be funny...that's all I've got to say really.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
27/04/05 Graffiti
According to Mitch someone has daubed graffiti on a fence at Dalkeith Country Park,
(an idyllic spot, popular with picnicking families).
The offending graffiti says "POPE = NIGGER".
The author obviously has a diversified portfolio of prejudice, combining racial and religious bigotry. He/she must have been moved by the recent machinations involved in electing a new pontiff, and felt a need to comment publicly on his/her opinions on the relative worthiness of God's "Emissary on earth".
In the absence of a successful removal of this graffiti, it could perhaps be altered to lessen its general offensiveness?
I'd thought initially of changing it to "POPE = SNIGGER".
This removes the racist component completely. It could be inferring positively, that the Pope has a very good sense of humour, and furthermore that any amount of time in his company is likely to produce a good snigger or chortle of some kind.
However, it may be interpreted negatively as a sneering reference to the Pontiff, in the sense that he and his position, are a figure of fun, and not worthy of serious contemplation. So this remedy wouldn't be entirely satisfactory.
My other thought would be to turn the slogan into a complex algebraic equation, eg (Pope - 1)/3.5 = (6.2 * Nigger)/(3a + 2b)
This would be seen as a revolutionary use of Mathematics to dilute the offensiveness quotient of ned graffiti purveyors.
One of the main criticisms of learning Mathematics at school is that there is very little demonstration of the practical application of the concepts taught.
This would surely go a long way to alleviating this unsatisfactory situation.
(an idyllic spot, popular with picnicking families).
The offending graffiti says "POPE = NIGGER".
The author obviously has a diversified portfolio of prejudice, combining racial and religious bigotry. He/she must have been moved by the recent machinations involved in electing a new pontiff, and felt a need to comment publicly on his/her opinions on the relative worthiness of God's "Emissary on earth".
In the absence of a successful removal of this graffiti, it could perhaps be altered to lessen its general offensiveness?
I'd thought initially of changing it to "POPE = SNIGGER".
This removes the racist component completely. It could be inferring positively, that the Pope has a very good sense of humour, and furthermore that any amount of time in his company is likely to produce a good snigger or chortle of some kind.
However, it may be interpreted negatively as a sneering reference to the Pontiff, in the sense that he and his position, are a figure of fun, and not worthy of serious contemplation. So this remedy wouldn't be entirely satisfactory.
My other thought would be to turn the slogan into a complex algebraic equation, eg (Pope - 1)/3.5 = (6.2 * Nigger)/(3a + 2b)
This would be seen as a revolutionary use of Mathematics to dilute the offensiveness quotient of ned graffiti purveyors.
One of the main criticisms of learning Mathematics at school is that there is very little demonstration of the practical application of the concepts taught.
This would surely go a long way to alleviating this unsatisfactory situation.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
26/04/05 Snookered
I don't tend to watch snooker much. However, on account of the appalling nature of the prevailing meteorological conditions yesterday, and as I had a slight sore head from the previous evening at the esteemed Stand Comedy Club, I made an exception.
Since tobacco sponsorship was banned, the prize money has drastically shrunk.
It has gone from "Who Wants To Be A Millionnaire" type sums to the current equivalent of , "Here's Your Crackerjack pencils!" ( CRACKERJACK! )
The best player Ronnie O'Sullivan is clearly clinically insane. Steve Davis is still bumbling along in his dotage. Jimmy White looks like the 60 fags and a bottle of vodka a day diet is finally catching up with him. Stephen Hendry is clinically depressed. Peter Ebdon could have a blossoming career as a ruthless serial killer, should he wish to retire from his life on the green baize. Dennis Taylor is still not very funny really. Hazel Irvine is nauseatingly chirpy. The BBC Production team are desperately trying to make snooker look sexy again by overlaying moody trance anthems on action clips. It's not working.
The selling of advertising on waistcoats further increases the tacky awfulness.
Not that I'm one to complain.
I do actually quite like snooker. I spent most of my University life in the snooker hall. I feel its TV appeal is waning though.
Since tobacco sponsorship was banned, the prize money has drastically shrunk.
It has gone from "Who Wants To Be A Millionnaire" type sums to the current equivalent of , "Here's Your Crackerjack pencils!" ( CRACKERJACK! )
The best player Ronnie O'Sullivan is clearly clinically insane. Steve Davis is still bumbling along in his dotage. Jimmy White looks like the 60 fags and a bottle of vodka a day diet is finally catching up with him. Stephen Hendry is clinically depressed. Peter Ebdon could have a blossoming career as a ruthless serial killer, should he wish to retire from his life on the green baize. Dennis Taylor is still not very funny really. Hazel Irvine is nauseatingly chirpy. The BBC Production team are desperately trying to make snooker look sexy again by overlaying moody trance anthems on action clips. It's not working.
The selling of advertising on waistcoats further increases the tacky awfulness.
Not that I'm one to complain.
I do actually quite like snooker. I spent most of my University life in the snooker hall. I feel its TV appeal is waning though.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
25/04/05 Ginger
I've always loved Ginger. Not Ginger Rogers the dancer. No, the plant itself.
Ginger Beer is the king of carbonated refreshments in my book, ("Ginger Beer - The King of Carbonated Refreshments" by J. S. Park, available in all good book shops)
When I was a callow teenager I used to make my own ginger beer.
My parents discouraged this practice after several bottles exploded in my bedroom one night like mortars. Thankfully, my sorrow at losing all the ginger beer, was not compounded by any collateral human casualties.
I was actually sitting, strumming a guitar right next to one of the bottles as it exploded, and to this day fail to comprehend how I avoided getting so much as a scratch. This was reminiscent of the scene in "Pulp Fiction" where the 2 hitmen survive a frenzied burst of shooting from a friend of "Brad" (as in, "check the brain on Brad!" and "eating a Big Kahoona Burger").
This caused the Samuel Jackson character to seize on the event as one of great religious significance, and a signal from above to get out of the Hitman business.
I was just pissed off that all my ginger beer had gone, and that I faced a not insubstantial task in clearing up my room.
To any other Ginger Beer aficionados, I recommend the "quick" Ginger Beer recipe from Mr Jamie Oliver.
Just grate some fresh ginger (no need to peel), mix up with lemon juice, lemon peel and muscavado sugar. Add soda water, stir, leave for 10 minutes, then pour through sieve into a jug. Add some fresh mint. And enjoy the great taste of ginger beer.
Fortunately there is no chance of this form of ginger beer exploding.
So there you go...jokes, amusing anecdotes ...now even feckin' recipes...what more could the discerning blog reader look for?
Ginger Beer is the king of carbonated refreshments in my book, ("Ginger Beer - The King of Carbonated Refreshments" by J. S. Park, available in all good book shops)
When I was a callow teenager I used to make my own ginger beer.
My parents discouraged this practice after several bottles exploded in my bedroom one night like mortars. Thankfully, my sorrow at losing all the ginger beer, was not compounded by any collateral human casualties.
I was actually sitting, strumming a guitar right next to one of the bottles as it exploded, and to this day fail to comprehend how I avoided getting so much as a scratch. This was reminiscent of the scene in "Pulp Fiction" where the 2 hitmen survive a frenzied burst of shooting from a friend of "Brad" (as in, "check the brain on Brad!" and "eating a Big Kahoona Burger").
This caused the Samuel Jackson character to seize on the event as one of great religious significance, and a signal from above to get out of the Hitman business.
I was just pissed off that all my ginger beer had gone, and that I faced a not insubstantial task in clearing up my room.
To any other Ginger Beer aficionados, I recommend the "quick" Ginger Beer recipe from Mr Jamie Oliver.
Just grate some fresh ginger (no need to peel), mix up with lemon juice, lemon peel and muscavado sugar. Add soda water, stir, leave for 10 minutes, then pour through sieve into a jug. Add some fresh mint. And enjoy the great taste of ginger beer.
Fortunately there is no chance of this form of ginger beer exploding.
So there you go...jokes, amusing anecdotes ...now even feckin' recipes...what more could the discerning blog reader look for?
24/04/05 Shocking Golf
I had to get to Peebles by 9.30am. And on a Sunday morning as well.
The reason for this strange scheduling was my inclusion in a crack golf team representing Dalmeny Estate Golf Club, as they pitted themselves against Peebles Golf Club's finest.
I played with Mark, and immediately won his confidence by asking him what school he went to. It turns out he was 20 years old. whoops!
It would be fair to describe the quality of my performance as utter shite. We lost 3 and 1 and we were sent home to think again.
In fact Dalmeny lost all the matches, which was slightly disappointing.
The other noteworthy incident was myself being electrocuted as I attempted to vault a fence to retrieve my ball after yet another wayward drive. A singularly unpleasant experience.
I once had quite a bad electric shock at a party when I mistook a shaving socket for a light switch and inserted my finger into it. I was propelled 3 feet into the air and was shaky for a while afterwards. Not nice. Not nice at all.
After the match I watched the 2nd half of Rangers v Celtic. Celtic won 2-1 and look certs to win the league. I am a Rangers fan, so this is not a good thing.
However, such is my lack of faith in the current manager and his baffling tactical decisions, I had previously placed a substantial sum on Celtic to win the league as an "Insurance" policy. It takes the sting out of the defeat. Although, to fellow Rangers fans reading this drivel, I will now be categorised as a traitor of the lowest order, worthy of contempt. I'll get over it.
The reason for this strange scheduling was my inclusion in a crack golf team representing Dalmeny Estate Golf Club, as they pitted themselves against Peebles Golf Club's finest.
I played with Mark, and immediately won his confidence by asking him what school he went to. It turns out he was 20 years old. whoops!
It would be fair to describe the quality of my performance as utter shite. We lost 3 and 1 and we were sent home to think again.
In fact Dalmeny lost all the matches, which was slightly disappointing.
The other noteworthy incident was myself being electrocuted as I attempted to vault a fence to retrieve my ball after yet another wayward drive. A singularly unpleasant experience.
I once had quite a bad electric shock at a party when I mistook a shaving socket for a light switch and inserted my finger into it. I was propelled 3 feet into the air and was shaky for a while afterwards. Not nice. Not nice at all.
After the match I watched the 2nd half of Rangers v Celtic. Celtic won 2-1 and look certs to win the league. I am a Rangers fan, so this is not a good thing.
However, such is my lack of faith in the current manager and his baffling tactical decisions, I had previously placed a substantial sum on Celtic to win the league as an "Insurance" policy. It takes the sting out of the defeat. Although, to fellow Rangers fans reading this drivel, I will now be categorised as a traitor of the lowest order, worthy of contempt. I'll get over it.
23/04/05 It's "football" Jim, but not.....
My fantastic sister Ann, who does the best two finger whistle I've ever heard in my puff, treated myself, my Dad and her partner Julia's Dad, Pip, to a hospitality package at Starks Park to see Raith Rovers play the mighty Hamilton Academicals.
She'd also announced the happy news that she and Julia were going to make their relationship Official by using the new Civil Partnership legislation to tie the knot.
This gives same sex couples, the same legal rights as married couples and is long overdue. Well done Tony Blair. We marked the occasion with a tasty bottle of champagne. And another party to look forward to. Yee Ha!
My younger sister Janie also announced recently that her and Max are getting married. The pressure is now intensifying. A Park "hat trick" possibly?
My Dad was born and brought up in the hot streets of Hamilton and was/is a keen Accies man.
As we drove into Kirkcaldy, we passed a tanning salon called "Tanfastic".
This prompted a chuckle.
It definitely is the only way to see a football match.
You can drive right into the ground. You get a welcoming chat from the Raith officials, then shown to your table, and then proceed to drink and eat rather a lot before being escorted to your seats in the Stand.
The football itself was not of the highest order, although there were a few deft flicks from the Accies.
There was an air of resignation amongst the home support. They're getting relegated and the "Raith Rovers 2004/05 Season" DVD is not expected to shift a lot of units.
There was quite a funny little scene to observe though. An old Rovers fan decided to wear a match programme on his head, at a jaunty angle. This looked very comical and I noticed someone stealthily taking a picture of him with his mobile phone.
I wondered where in the world that photo might be getting sent to, and speculated that it might cause a global mexican wave of laughter as it was passed from person to person, crossing continents.
Although, he probably just sent it to his mate in a pub in Kirkcaldy, and that would be the end of it.
Accies won 2-0 ,fairly comfortably, much to my Dad's delight!
She'd also announced the happy news that she and Julia were going to make their relationship Official by using the new Civil Partnership legislation to tie the knot.
This gives same sex couples, the same legal rights as married couples and is long overdue. Well done Tony Blair. We marked the occasion with a tasty bottle of champagne. And another party to look forward to. Yee Ha!
My younger sister Janie also announced recently that her and Max are getting married. The pressure is now intensifying. A Park "hat trick" possibly?
My Dad was born and brought up in the hot streets of Hamilton and was/is a keen Accies man.
As we drove into Kirkcaldy, we passed a tanning salon called "Tanfastic".
This prompted a chuckle.
It definitely is the only way to see a football match.
You can drive right into the ground. You get a welcoming chat from the Raith officials, then shown to your table, and then proceed to drink and eat rather a lot before being escorted to your seats in the Stand.
The football itself was not of the highest order, although there were a few deft flicks from the Accies.
There was an air of resignation amongst the home support. They're getting relegated and the "Raith Rovers 2004/05 Season" DVD is not expected to shift a lot of units.
There was quite a funny little scene to observe though. An old Rovers fan decided to wear a match programme on his head, at a jaunty angle. This looked very comical and I noticed someone stealthily taking a picture of him with his mobile phone.
I wondered where in the world that photo might be getting sent to, and speculated that it might cause a global mexican wave of laughter as it was passed from person to person, crossing continents.
Although, he probably just sent it to his mate in a pub in Kirkcaldy, and that would be the end of it.
Accies won 2-0 ,fairly comfortably, much to my Dad's delight!
22/04/05 Down The Pub
I had a couple of drinks with the samba gang in Nicol Edwards.
There was talk of showing some DVDs in the cinema there, but this idea was shelved in favour of the more traditional pursuit of drinking and talking bollocks.
Graham offered to write my Fringe show.
I don't think this would be a good idea as, in my experience, Graham's jokes tend to be hoary old clunkers, principally dating from the pre-Jurassic era. I actually think I've just about got enough material now for the timeslot, so I'll have to politely decline...! :-)
I then moved on the Black Bo's and caught up with Crazy, Ginger Gent and Dolphin Boy
(great pseudonyms huh?).
We discussed the upcoming Old Firm fixture, the General Election and Billy Connolly.
One of the dangers of knowing the bar staff is that "Time, Gentlemen Please!" doesn't have quite the same significance, and I found myself there at 3.45am still blethering. This is not big and decidedly not clever behaviour.
There was talk of showing some DVDs in the cinema there, but this idea was shelved in favour of the more traditional pursuit of drinking and talking bollocks.
Graham offered to write my Fringe show.
I don't think this would be a good idea as, in my experience, Graham's jokes tend to be hoary old clunkers, principally dating from the pre-Jurassic era. I actually think I've just about got enough material now for the timeslot, so I'll have to politely decline...! :-)
I then moved on the Black Bo's and caught up with Crazy, Ginger Gent and Dolphin Boy
(great pseudonyms huh?).
We discussed the upcoming Old Firm fixture, the General Election and Billy Connolly.
One of the dangers of knowing the bar staff is that "Time, Gentlemen Please!" doesn't have quite the same significance, and I found myself there at 3.45am still blethering. This is not big and decidedly not clever behaviour.
Friday, April 22, 2005
21/04/05 Ninemileburn visit
Went to visit Mitch and Jo and their new son Finn at their posh country house in Ninemileburn.
Ninemileburn is a great place name I think. I'm not sure if it's called that because there is a burn (that's a "small stream" to you sassenach types) around, that just happens to be exactly 9 miles long, or whether historically there were nine separate burns in the surrounding area, each a mile long, or maybe there was a large area 9 miles long which was regularly set on fire as some kind of ancient pagan ritual involving the sacrifice of virgins and execution of suspected witches.
I should have really asked Mitch while I was there.
Finn seemed a very nice, calm, relaxed baby. Apparently we got him at a good time though according to Mitch.
I had my photograph taking holding Finn with animal horns behind me (koodoo horns to be precise).
This gave the impression that the horns were coming out of my head, and thus the image that I was the devil and was cradling another new recruit to my army of souls, ready to create global havoc in a kind of Damien from "The Omen" style.
I have a similar photo of me holding his older brother Jem. Very funny.
I'm intending giving the boys some old 60s LPs that they can play backwards and listen to my life tips as they grow up.
Ninemileburn is a great place name I think. I'm not sure if it's called that because there is a burn (that's a "small stream" to you sassenach types) around, that just happens to be exactly 9 miles long, or whether historically there were nine separate burns in the surrounding area, each a mile long, or maybe there was a large area 9 miles long which was regularly set on fire as some kind of ancient pagan ritual involving the sacrifice of virgins and execution of suspected witches.
I should have really asked Mitch while I was there.
Finn seemed a very nice, calm, relaxed baby. Apparently we got him at a good time though according to Mitch.
I had my photograph taking holding Finn with animal horns behind me (koodoo horns to be precise).
This gave the impression that the horns were coming out of my head, and thus the image that I was the devil and was cradling another new recruit to my army of souls, ready to create global havoc in a kind of Damien from "The Omen" style.
I have a similar photo of me holding his older brother Jem. Very funny.
I'm intending giving the boys some old 60s LPs that they can play backwards and listen to my life tips as they grow up.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
20/04/05 Hitler Has Only Got One Film
Went to see "Downfall" yesterday. It's a dramatisation of the last few days of Hitler's Bunker leading up to his suicide.
Excellent film. It was actually quite eerie seeing a proper dramatic representation of Hitler.
I think the only other film where I've seen a character portayal of him is "The Producers". That probably wasn't too accurate.
The casting of the film was great. Particularly Goebbels. He WAS Goebbels. I can't imagine him playing any other part. He stole the show from Hitler, who was a little over the top in some of his tantrums. Although Hitler probably was a little over the top in some of his tantrums. I suspect he was that kind of guy.
He was very polite to his secretary though.
Does that excuse him from his excesses though? No, probably not.
Quite grim stuff though. My last two visits to the Cinema have been at the darker end of the entertainment scale. It's time for a laugh I think to restore the ying and yang balance.
I enjoyed watching Alex Ferguson and David Moyes have a go at each other from their "technical boxes" during the Everton vs Man Utd match.
Us Scots just do that verbal aggression thing with a little more gusto than our English neighbours, I think.
Excellent film. It was actually quite eerie seeing a proper dramatic representation of Hitler.
I think the only other film where I've seen a character portayal of him is "The Producers". That probably wasn't too accurate.
The casting of the film was great. Particularly Goebbels. He WAS Goebbels. I can't imagine him playing any other part. He stole the show from Hitler, who was a little over the top in some of his tantrums. Although Hitler probably was a little over the top in some of his tantrums. I suspect he was that kind of guy.
He was very polite to his secretary though.
Does that excuse him from his excesses though? No, probably not.
Quite grim stuff though. My last two visits to the Cinema have been at the darker end of the entertainment scale. It's time for a laugh I think to restore the ying and yang balance.
I enjoyed watching Alex Ferguson and David Moyes have a go at each other from their "technical boxes" during the Everton vs Man Utd match.
Us Scots just do that verbal aggression thing with a little more gusto than our English neighbours, I think.
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