29/06/06 Thanks Ronnie!

Ronnie O'Sullivan looks on dejectedly as he faces elimination from the 2006 World Snooker Championship


Well, my worst fears were realised as Ronnie had a psychotic meltdown and lost to squeaky voiced Scot Graham Dott.
My bet lay in tatters.
Ronnie was playing so impressively in the morning session that I'm confident that I could have taken a few frames off him myself, (this is based on my ability at the height of my powers in the Stirling University Snooker Hall, where a break of up to 18 was not unknown).
The final is now between potential serial killer Peter Ebdon and Dott.
I'll go for Dott to win.
It's time I played the patriotic card.
I'm not putting a bet on though.
Although snooker has lost its tobacco sponsors, it is now involved in the even murkier world of online poker and Internet betting.
These activities are prominently advertised on the players waistcoats.
I have to say it all looks a little tacky and desperate.
It would be fair to say that these activities have the potential to be far more ruinous to your health than smoking (particularly if you put bets on snooker players who decide to abandon their formal game plan and launch into an extended tribute to the late great Charlie Cairoli)
It's likely to be only a matter of time before the actual green baize itself is used to advertise, in a similar way to the big Royal Bank of Scotland monstrosity logos in the middle of rugby pitches.
My hits to this blog have recently rocketed on account of me placing a link from the entry on Wikipedia for my former punk colleagues "The Exploited".
I just hope that new viewers can reconcile the concepts of anarchy and chaos with a detailed examination of the current state of UK Snooker.
I think these subjects have had and will continue to have, a strong relative connection.
Thanks to running up mountains all week and playing football twice, I'm 6 pounds lighter than I was 2 weeks ago. I'm the man...
Off to try and blag a ticket to see Hearts v Celtic.
£50 on Hearts to win. 2/1 against.
Can the jambos make up for Ronnie or is it a black week for Jim's punting?

24/04/06 Back Of The Net

I had the best gig I've had for a long, long time last night.
This was especially pleasing as the set mainly comprised of new stuff I'd just cobbled together yesterday afternoon, and it was generally well received.
This put a bit of a spring in my step...
It was a great Monday night at The Stand with all the acts doing well. Not a car crash in sight...!
I particularly enjoyed the high energy wackiness of Mike Belgrave and Chris McCausland, a blind comedian.
They both had the place rocking.
I'd seen Chris sitting in the dressing room earlier on.
I thought he'd looked really nervous, with what I interpreted as a deep in thought "thousand yard stare",(you get used to seeing this expression on new acts' faces waiting their turn to go onstage. Although it turned out he was far from being a "new act" ). I didn't realise he was blind until I saw him being led onto stage by a helper.
He played on the blindness initially making a few quips about his "observational comedy" style.
However, the blindness wasn't used as a dominant subject for him, and he just turned out to be an incredibly funny comic.
I walked past "The Canny Man" pub in Edinburgh yesterday.
I used to go there with my labourer colleagues a long,long time ago, when I was working on the extension to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. My contribution to the building process was principally to sweep up after the plasterers. This was well in the running for one of "the worst jobs I've ever had".
In fact this was so long ago, that a lunchtime pint in this pub was accompanied by the sophisticated entertainment of Go Go Dancers.
It's changed days now for the Canny Man. It has something of a reputation as an elitist hostelry, with extremely stringent admittance policies.
There's a big engraved sign next to the front door with the following inscription ;
"NO CAMERAS ; NO CREDIT CARDS ; NO SMOKING ; NO MOBILE PHONES ; NO BACKPACKERS".
It's not the most welcoming of pronouncements.
It does tempt you to get a backpack, light a cigar, shout into a mobile phone a la Dom Jolly, put a SLR camera with a 3ft telephoto lens round your neck and rush in shouting "Do you take American Express?", waving your credit card in the air.
I was a bit worried about Ronnie O'Sullivan yesterday. He was 9-7 down at one point, and I feared that he had taken my bold words rather literally and was in fact seriously attempting to win the Snooker World Championship with his cue stuck up his arse.
Thankfully, he prevailed and now faces Mark "I'm miserable, me, you see" Williams of Wales in the quarter final.

21/04/06 Comedian Idle

"So you call that stand-up routine "funny and orginal"???. Hah! Time for me to find a new nerve, I think!"


I booked myself in for an audition at "The Comedy Unit" in Glasgow.
It's Scotland's biggest independent production company, and they produce shows like "Chewin' The Fat", "Still Game", "Rab C Nesbitt", "Karen Dunbar Show" etc etc
It wasn't an audition for any specific show or anything. They just wanted to have a look at who is doing the rounds in Scottish comedy circles and keep a note of them on their database.
When I was called in, there were 3 people sitting behind a desk.
We had a convivial chinwag about who I was and what I did.
I'd also brought in some hopefully amusing extracts from my hilarious Blog for them to peruse.
I always find interview situations with more than one interviewer slightly unnerving.
I'm fine on a 1-to-1 basis, but get a bit jumpy with the "panel" experience.
I was then asked to do a 5 minute spot of stand-up comedy in front of the panel.
It occurred to me at the time that this little scene could be part of somebody's anxiety nightmare. They're scheduled to have an extrememly important job interview the following morning when they suddenly wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat in absolute terror....
"You want me to do some stand-up comedy???? But I'm applying for the position of Quantity Surveyor??..."
Then the panel would say, "Yes, but it's an extension of isometric testing, and useful to see how you cope under the intense pressure of performing a funny and hopefully, original, comedy routine in front of the nation's leading power brokers of comedic product on TV"...
Anyway, I did a 5 minute spot...
I initially remarked that the set up reminded me of the last scene in the film "Flashdance" in which Jennifer Beal and her body double put on an acrobatic display of dance to a panel, of whom at least one is smoking a cigar.
Due to the smoking ban legislation, the cigar option was not possible in this scenario.
I think my delivery was a little on the quick side and I may have strayed into gibberish mode occasionally...
But my gibberish mode often gets bigger laughs than my more poised delivery, so this may not have been a bad thing.
It was filmed for posterity.
Perhaps it will be used as a clip on the acclaimed TV series "Before They Were Famous" and will be introduced sarcastically by Angus Deayton...with some reference about someone accidentally putting 5 grams of cocaine in my cheese sandwich which I ate before the audition.
I got a few laughs but it was all a bit of a blur. My recollection of my performance is a bit hazy...
It was a fun experience though and these Comedy Unit people were all very nice and friendly, as well as being stunningly charismatic and sexually attractive individuals, who I would explicity trust in terms of identifying and recruiting new talent looking for their big break in comedy land.
After the audition I went for a walk round Springburn Park. This was my main childhood haunt when I was a wee boy in Glasgow.
I hadn't been there for donkey's years, and have to say I found being there again overpoweringly emotional.
The park is looking good though.
It was neglected for years but it seems they are taking steps to return it to its former glory.
Back in Edinburgh, I had a bit of a contretemp with some obnoxious gits who appeared out of a hotel in my street.
They were obviously up for a serious weekend on the piss as it was 6pm and they already looked very much the worse for wear.
I noticed them being fairly disgusting and lewd with passing females.
I then walked past them but was winded when a large heavy,full binbag slammed into my back.
I turned round and glared at them, but they were operating a "look away and pretend it wasn't anything to do with us" policy.
My immediate instinct was to punch one of them, but bearing in mind that they were 6 pissed up, aggressive guys...I would likely have been kicked to death and been left lying on the pavement.
I said nothing and walked away but I was seething.
What I needed was a little pixie to appear and grant me a wish or something like that.
I would have said "I wish I had the martial art skills of the late, great Bruce Lee for 15 minutes duration please"...
I would then make some high-pitched whooping noises and obliterate the evil horde in a flurry of flying kicks and punches...
If only life afforded us these opportunities, the world would be a much better place...

20/04/06 Education Education Education

I've decided to try and learn more new things.
This week I have learnt by heart the police alphabet ; that's all that alpha,bravo,charlie,delta etc etc thing.
Quite useful when you're spelling things to people on the phone (well, that's the whole point of it I suppose...!)
So from now on my name is Juliet India Mike Polo Alpha Romeo Kilo.
Interestingly, I used to think that "Juliet Bravo" was the name of the female policewoman character in the BBC TV series of that name.
What a silly Charlie Uniform November Tango I was in these days.
As expected Nigel Bond comfortably beat Stephen Hendry and I win £100.
It may have gone to a re-spotted black in the 19th frame of the best-of-19 match, but I was never really in doubt that Nigel would do the business.
I was relaxed and confident at all times, and even when Nigel potted the black to win the match but put the white in at the same time to force a re-spot, nothing could shake my sunny demeanor.
Not stressful at all.
Come on Ronnie...! Win the title then we can all go home.
I just hope that Ronnie gets a chance to win the championship and I get my cash before George Bush hits Iran with a "tactical" nuclear strike.
It's all getting a bit scary.
I used to think that my generation had a pretty bum deal in terms of things to worry about.
We had mass unemployment, the Cold War and AIDS to be concerned about.
In fact 20 years ago, it was predicted that Edinburgh would be in the grip of a disastrous epidemic of AIDS. Thankfully it hasn't happened.
It was scary though at the time...We had to contend with less than cheery thoughts as experts told us that any time you previously had unprotected sex with someone , you were effectively having sex with every one they'd ever previously had unprotected sex with, as well as with everyone they'd previously ever had unprotected sex with etc etc
It wasn't really regarded as irresponsible to have unprotected sex in these days if the female was on the pill.
Can you imagine the paranoia this type of talk created?
Anyway, after the Cold War finished and unemployment eased, I thought things would be looking up...
Now we've got the "War on Terror", Global Warming and talk of nuclear strikes....
But hey, my rhubarb plants are doing really well, and it looks like 2006 will be a bumper crop...so it's not ALL bad...

18/04/06 Moron Of The Year

I think this award should go to the guy in the audience at The Stand last night who was helping out the very funny comedy/magician Steven Dick with a trick.
It was the old write-your-name-on-a-tenner and give it to me; I'll then fold it up and I'll give you a kiwi fruit as a fair swap.
Then at the end of the show, the audience member is invited onto the stage.
He gives Steven back the kiwi fruit, then Steven cuts the fruit open and miraculously the tenner (with the written name) is inside the fruit.
Now I don't know exactly how this impressive trick is done ; but what is obvious to a keen amateur magician is that the kiwi fruit is switched at the last moment.
In this instance, the moron bit the kiwi fruit in half before giving it back to Mr Dick...
And he looked SO fooking pleased with himself....
In spite of this I had a pretty good gig at the show, and I think am beginning to get back in my stride after a long layoff.
I got a bit mental at one point though and had a slight saliva projectile problem,
(I did take the time to apologise to the front row though...can't say fairer than that really)
I was going to go to Meadowbank Sports Centre on Monday for a bit of a workout but found that the centre was closed.
I always find it a bit odd that "Leisure Centres" are always closed on days when people have a large amount of leisure time available to indulge in.
It's like going to a restaurant and seeing a sign saying "Closed For Lunch".
Gambling has been getting a bit of a bad press recently, what with Wayne Rooney and his £700 000 alleged debt and all that...
So it's probably a good time for me to introduce my "Jim - What a Punt!" current betting tips...
I've not been doing much lately, but I figure if I document the bets on the Blog, there's less chance of me making totally idiotic bets and geting all Rooney-ish in my gambling success....
Anyway, here's todays bets ;
£100 on Nigel Bond to beat Stephen Hendry (placed with Bond 6-3 in the lead) EVEN money
£100 on Ronnie O'Sullivan to win the title 2/1 against
I figure Ronnie could win the title with a cue stuck up his arse as long as he keeps his head together...
My UK Coal shares are doing well, (coal is going to have a comeback, people don't want nuclear, but they also don't want the whole country covered in wind farms either) but this just balances out a stock meltdown with NHS IT suppliers Isoft last week.

17/04/06 End of Lent

The 40 weekdays from Ash Wednesday until Easter is traditionally observed by Christians as a season of fasting and penitence in preparation for Easter. Generally, people use this time to give up things like alcohol and chocolate.
My personal interpretation of this ritual has been somewhat unconventional.
Rather than abstain from something I enjoy, I've used the past 40 days to indulge in a tribute to one of my favourite actors, Robert De Niro.
As an act of appreciation of his unique talent, I have painstakingly recreated his preparation for his role of the older, fatter Jake La Motta in his acclaimed film "Raging Bull", in which he intentionally gained 50 lbs over a short period of time, mainly by eating bathtubs full of pasta.
My technique has involved drinking copious quantities of wine and eating out at every available opportunity, consequently piling on the weight needed to produce an accurate personification of Jake's tragic physical decline.
This has been made easier to achieve due to my kitchen being a bomb site for the past 5 weeks...but that's another story.
But now Lent is over and it is time to once again become a honed athlete.
I haven't had a game of football for more than 2 months....
I intend playing tonight. This should be interesting...
I always console myself with the knowledge that "form is temporary, class is permanent" in light of any unflattering remarks which may or may not be made about my physical condition.
I haven't smoked for 3 months...so that's a positive....
The "no smoking" regime definitely does set your appetite into overdrive though.
Now that Lent is over, I'm about to begin a tribute to the acclaimed Scottish actor Ewan MacGregor.
I'm going to recreate the drastic weight loss he underwent as preparation for his role in the ok-but-to-be-honest-horribly-overrated film of Irvine Welsh's epic book of the same name, "Trainspotting".
He was told to lose a lot of weight to more accurately portray the amaciated look of your common or garden heroin addict.
If the shops are open today, I may nick down to Princes Street and do a spot of deliberately clumsy shoplifting and encourage the security guards to chase me along Princes St to the backing of Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life".
That should get the ball rolling and get rid of a few pounds...
My lawyer should be able to dissuade the judge from issuing a custodial sentence on the basis that I'm just trying to get healthier and be less of a burden on the welfare state in my dotage.
I'll mention cryptically in my plea of mitigation that I "chose not to choose life...I chose something else!".
I'm not going to get addicted to heroin though during this process.
I'm not that stupid.
I'm already trying to cope with a chronic addiction to balsamic vinegar flavoured kettle crisps.
That's worse than heroin addiction anyway...and there's no "kettle crisps" chic glamour angle whereby you could have a film made about you and possibly make some money out of your addiction misery.

16/04/06 Easter Thoughts

So what has all this got to do with me anyway?






It's got a little warmer.
I have become rather irritated with the cold weather of late. Enough is enough.
I've had a couple of gigs at The Stand recently. They went quite well I thought...
Well better than my last few gigs before Xmas in which, to quote Bernard Manning, I was "about as funny as a fire in an orphanage".
I was being experimental you see...
Anyway, hopefully I didn't do too much damage to my comedy "career".
I also currently have a letter in the current edition of The List in which I drone on about issues relating to buying traditional tenement property in Edinburgh.
I come across as a pompous git...(not that there's anything wrong with that).
I've just spent a day out at Mitch and Jo's country retreat.
Very pleasant indeed, although far too idyllic really for my taste.
I mean, come on...a nice house in the country, lovely family, able to work at home...?
There's just not enough angst there for my liking...
I was relieved to be given a single finger salute by a grumpy driver on my way back into Edinburgh for hooting at him as he idiotically pulled out in front of me.
Now, that's the real world...! Wonderfully reassuring...
I have also been having a chuckle at a news story involving the Chief Inspector of Tayside Police making a speech to a dinner of top Scottish Legal representatives.
He inadvisedly told a joke which involved some Al Quaeda men discussing the careers of their suicide bomber sons.
The punchline was "Kids just blow up so quickly these days...!".
Apparently, the joke was met with total silence...
It's not a bad joke actually, but it just demonstrates the perils of throwing in a bit of inappropriate humour into formal occasions.
I remember making a joke at a job interview for Stirling Council in which the interview was held in a building which was a reconverted prison.
I made a quip like "Ah, so this was the old prison? I knew I'd been here before!" to the interview panel. I didn't get a laugh, let alone a smile...and I didn't get the job either...! Mind you that was probably a good thing.

09/04/06 News round-up

Pete Swanson's "disguise" isn't fooling anyone...
The damning evidence is here...Pete's campaign to quit the fags is over for the time being...
Shares in "British & American Tobacco PLC" have soared...

Last Friday was a very special day for me as I finally worked out the rules of "Deal Or No Deal"...! Hooray!
I'd caught many, many snippets of Noel Edmond's monster hit gameshow, but could never quite work out the rules and strategy of what was going on.
I didn't want to ask anyone, as I was determined to work it out myself, (I'd never managed to see the start of the show where the rules were probably explained).

Anyway, I know now, and to say I'm shocked and stunned is something of an understatement.
What with all the extended agonising by the contestants over their "Deal or No Deal" decisions, I envisaged a complex chess-like strategy of rules and options to consider....
Hah! It turns out they're just choosing fucking random boxes from start to finish but making the odd probability decision now and again.
I feel duped!
It still is strangely compelling viewing though.
I'll give you that...I'll give you that, sunshine...

02/04/06 Scottish Athletes

Whilst Scottish swimmers, cyclists and bowlers did very well at the Commonwealth Games, our athletes were overwhelmingly rubbish.
I read a shocking article in the newspaper last week in which it was intimated that the Scottish runners in the 1970 Commonwealth Games (held in Edinburgh) would beat the current Scottish team.
That's unbelievable. A lot of that squad must be well over 60 by now!
Surely there has to be an independent inquiry into how things got to this sorry state of affairs.
Too much time playing computer games, listening to pop music and smoking Class C drugs is obviously taking its toll amongst the nation's disaffected youth.
I was driving though town today listening to commentary of the Hearts v Hibs Scottish Cup semi-final.
Hearts took the lead in 28 minutes.
5 minutes later I was driving down Morrison Street and passed the trendy, exclusive nightspot "Diane's Pool Bar".
A police van drew up abruptly outside and 8 officers hurriedly piled into the bar.
Obviously the goal had sparked off a bout of silly behaviour amongst the watching fans...!
I suspect that it is going to be a tough day to be a policemen on duty in Edinburgh.
The match ended up in the nightmare scenario from a police point of view.
A draw would have seen the day pass off reasonably peacefully, and the replay would be in Edinburgh.
However, Hibs were humiliatingly cuffed 4-0 and had two players sent off.
I wouldn't like to be on the trains coming back from Glasgow after the game.
A compelling cocktail of pissed up triumphalism alongside pissed up wounded pride.
A recipe for disaster....!
It was a chronically stupid idea to play the match in Glasgow anyway.
Edinburgh will be like a bad day in Baghdad tonight methinks.
I watched the second half in Riery's Bar in Haymarket.
I'm loving this smoke free regime.
It really is nice to spend a bit of time in a bar without coming out stinking of fags.
I have to warn the public though that I will be forced to punch in the face the next person I hear saying, "What are they going to do next? Ban drinking in pubs?" (then laugh uproariously at their display of wit).
Just realise that you're about the millionth person this week in Scotland to have made this rather weak joke. Move on. Think of a new angle.
No, not the one about smelling peoples' farts and the pong of disinfectant! Something else...something new...
How about 50ft fags? Aw, that's been done already as well, hasn't it?

27/03/06 Gangs of New Town

I cheered myself up last week by going to see an amateur production of "West Side Story" at the Kings Theatre in Edinburgh with some learned friends.
I myself appeared in a version of this play many years ago and still shudder as I contemplate the vision of yours truly dancing onto the stage with the grace and poise of a disabled rhino.
Amateur companies putting on musicals always run into problems with casting.
You need people who can sing really well to take on the principal roles obviously. However, you also need them to look reasonably convincing as the characters they play in terms of age, build, attractiveness etc
In WSS, you have the added requirement that they need to be able to dance as well.
Inevitably there has to be elements of compromise, as you don't have thousands of potential actors and actresses to choose from.
The lead male Tony looked great and sang magnificently, but unfortunately danced like a disabled rhino. It almost seemed like a touching tribute to my own dancing performance all those years ago.
A few of the Jets and Sharks were in there late 30s (not that there's anything wrong with that) ; one or two of them were balding (not that there's anything wrong with that) ; a few were extremely camp looking (not that there's anything wrong with that ; however, they just didn't look too threatening and delinquent)
But, hey it was all good fun, and the music is always a joy to listen to, so you can't go wrong really.
There were a few technical problems though....
Sometimes the big scenery backdrops clattered down on top of misplaced props ; much to the great amusement of the audience which seemed to be predominantly made up of schoolkids.
It reminded me of the closing scenes of the Marx Brothers "A Night At The Opera" whereby a serious opera was disrupted by random backdrops of battleships and other inappropriate images.
I would have loved to see Harpo Marx scurry up the scenery being chased by cops during the "rumble scene".
One other incident which stood out occurred in the lead up to the great showstoppin' number "America".
Before they launch into the song, there's a bit of banter between two Puerto Rican girls.
One is homesick and nostalgic for Puerto Rico, and the other thinks she's an idiot because Puerto Roci is really rubbish and that America is much better.
At one point the nostalgic girl says "We came like children, believing, trusting.
With our hearts open. With our arms open."
The non-nostalgic one then is supposed to say "You came with your mouth open!"
It's quite a funny little cheeky line which always earns a chuckle from the audience.
However, this production changed the line to "You came with your pants open!"
I was shocked, and made an embarassing, snorting guffaw type sound, causing the people in the row in front to look round disapprovingly.
Whose idea was that change? Stephen Sondheim would be spinning in his grave if he wasn't still alive.
The other problem WSS has is that in the climactic scene a gunshot is fired.
Maria's estranged buyfriend Chino wacks Tony in revenge for killing Bernardo.
This is all well and good.
However, when a gun goes off in a theatre, the audience collectively shits itself with the shock of the noise.
This then morphs into sustained laughter as they try to settle down again.
Bearing in mind this is a tragic scene in which Tony is shot and lies dying in Maria's arms ; it's not the ideal audience reaction.
The playwriter should have taken this into consideration.
It would have worked better if Chino had used a bow and arrow or perhaps a blowpipe ; or possibly jabbed Tony with a ricin coated umbrella point, as Tony waited at a bus stop.
At the very least, you could get a joke gun which unfurls a little flag with "Bang!" written on it as it is fired.
But hey, it was a great show which I really enjoyed, and I don't want to get into trouble as there were a couple of folk I knew in the cast.

26/03/06 Hello Again

As many of you will know, my much loved Dad passed away recently and consequently life hasn't felt particularly funny of late ; hence the non-appearance of my usual daily drivel.
Anyway, I'd like to post the poems read at my Dad's funeral as a tribute.
(Tom Mabbott, a good friend of my Dad, read "Epitaph To a Friend", and myself and my sister Ann read "The Blue Doo" ; a poem which was one of my Dad's acclaimed party pieces over the years... He could perform it miles better than I could ever hope to!)



Epitaph to a Friend

An honestman here lies at rest
As e’er God with his image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so informed:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.



The Blue Doo

There was wunst a wee doo,
An’ this wee doo was blue,
It had got itsel’ right in a mess.
Now it might be that you
Never heard of this doo,
Well ah’ll tell ye for you’d never guess.

Well, this wee doo was seeck,
It had banjo’d its beak,
Jist wi’ stabbin’ a daud of stale breid.
When alang came a boy,
Jist a durrty wee boy,
Who had snotters an’ beasts in his heid.

Said the wee boy – Aw jings!
Ah love a’ things wi’ wings!
An’ he gave the wee doo a big cuddle,
Then he mendit its beak,
He jist gave it a tweak,
Then he saftened its breid in a puddle.

Well, the doo gulped the breid,
It wiz hunger – no’ greed,
An’ it said tae the boy – Thanksalo’,
For yir jist a wee pe’,
An’ ah’ll never forge’
End the truth is it nevah forgot!

So youse people take heed,
Ayeways saften doo’s breid,
An’ never smack boys who have beasts in thir heid,
For ye might smack the boy
Who was good to the doo,
An’ the next thing ye’ll know is –
The doo might get you!

26/01/06 Friends In The News

George Galloway meets my good friend Pete Swanson.
They are meeting to discuss the possibility of teaming up and manufacturing 50ft long Havannah cigars as well as Pete's proposed "smoking ban bustin'" 50ft Silk Cuts.






Also, I was recently surprised to see Cheesy McLoughlin's great chum "Fat Mike" appearing on TV swimming up the River Thames. He managed to captivate the entire UK media as well as thousands of watching Londoners for 2 days.
I have to say though that I am deeply puzzled as to why he carried out this act of flagrant exhibitionism....
I was also shocked that he would go so far as to fake his own death on national TV.
I can only guess that he staked his entire fortune on Middlesboro FC not getting relegated this year?
Perhaps recent events have forced him to consider a complete change of identity and a move abroad financed by the Life Assurance cash paid out to the named beneficiary....his sidekick Cheesy....! (who'll probably pocket a percentage)
Is this far fetched? I don't think so...it all fits into place as far as I am concerned.

24/01/06 MonkeyMania...!

I don't know much about "The Arctic Monkeys" at all really.
I know they're quite new, from Sheffield, have a huge following which they've cultivated on the Internet via free downloads of their songs, and are a thrashy pop group with reputedly clever, insightful (is that a proper word?) lyrics.
Anyway, I've heard the odd clip, and think they sound quite good.
Of course, they are now poised to become another contender for the title "Biggest British group since The Beatles", and there will be an almighty amount of media hype in the next few weeks about this combo.
I like the fact that they seem like a real band. It seems they are friends who have just got together to play music and form a band. Like the way we used to do in the old days. You know...record a few creaky demos, play loads of gigs in dingy bars and church halls, send the tapes optimistically away to every record company in Christendom, waiting for an A & R (that's "Artists and Repertoire" if you are not familiar with these chaps...and they did always seem to be "chaps" in those days) man to hear the tape and realise that he's just heard the fledgling tinkles of the "Next Big Thing"....
The drummer and the bassist are probably in the band because they're part of a group of friends rather than the best possible instrumentalists available.
That's what happens in proper groups.
(not that I'm making any parallels with my glittering drumming career)
The best example of this admirable loyalty is "Def Leppard". They continued to employ their drummer even after he lost an arm in a road accident. I loved them for doing that. Although I still didn't actually like their music very much.
The Monkeys will be/are huge, and it's nice that they've done it by avoiding appearing on moronic "Pop Stars" -esque TV shows.
They're a "proper" band, and I rejoice in their success.
Television, Simon Cowell and Pete Waterman have had nothing to do with their meteoric rise to fame...and this must be seen as a good thing.
I was walking past a TV again last week, and again "Celebrity Big Brother" was on... (the TV owner is obviously a veritable saddoe with a chronic addiction to reality tv shows).
I don't say this lightly, but the scene in which George Galloway verbally mugged Michael Barrymore has to be the most electrifying TV sequence I've witnessed since Derren Brown did his "Russian Roulette" show.
In the media today, George is being portrayed as an aggressive bully.
There is an element of this at play, but, in fairness, most of his criticisms of Barrymore were spot on.
George is coming out tonight though. The Big Brother "character assassination by selective editing" has been carried out on him and he will walk tonight...
Freed from the shackles of IT work, I am back on the "investment" game.
Here are my tips (I have invested in these myself) ;
Back Gus Hiddink to be England's next manager
Lay against Man Utd beating Blackburn tonight

21/01/06 Getting Shirty

When I was working down Stockbridge way, I had something of a morning routine.
I stopped off at "Starbucks" on my way to San Quentin.
Me : "Could I have a slice of Lemon Drizzle Cake please"
Customer Service Assistant : Certainly sir, and can I get you a hot drink as well?
Me: No, thank you...
This exact conversation was repeated 3 times a week for 4 months (I didn't have cake every day. I'm disciplined. I'm not a glutton.)
Anyway, on my last day, I couldn't resist the lure of sarcasm...and instead of "No, thank you", came back with "Oh, I see, do you sell hot drinks here as well?".
"Are you being funny?"
"eh...Yes!"
"Do you want a hot drink or not?
"No, I don't. You see if I wanted a hot drink I'd just ask for one. I realise when I come into "Starbucks" that coffee is available. I just find it a bit odd that you feel you have to ask me whether I want a drink or not..."
At this, I was brusquely given my change, and the assistant moved on to the next customer...
I certainly showed them, didn't I?
It just seems daft to me. Usually you try the supplementary selling technique for something not too obviously available...
If you're buying shoes, you may well be interested in buying some aerosol leather protector, and welcome the sales assistants' recommendation of the aforementioned product. You might not have previously thought of buying this item.
Similarly, if you're having your hair cut in a Barbers, the offer of "something for the weekend, sir" is a useful service.
I don't expect to get a hot drink sales pitch it when I go into a shop which obviously specialises in hot drinks.
I mean, it's blatantly obvious I don't want a hot drink.
I just want to have my cake and eat it.
I get free tea at work from the machine.
I don't want to pay £2.50 for a cup of milky, weak shite.
I can get that for nothing out of the machine.
I was on a roll, and before I knew it I was complaining to the assistant at "Victoria Wines" about the price of their wine.
They've got this "offer" on all their stock at the moment in that if you buy 2 bottles of wine you get a third free.
Of course this effectively means that if you just want one bottle of wine you are completely shafted with a rip-off price.
I'm sure this policy will go a long way in terms of alleviating Scotland's rampant excessive drinking problem.
One bottle of wine? Don't be stupid. Buy 3!!! You know it makes sense!
Livers? who needs them?
The assistant groaned "You can't please everybody..."
I've decided to no longer offer my patronage to "Victoria Wines".
I just ordered 50 bottles of wine from the "Sunday Times" wine club.
This is a slight change of tack from my championing of the single bottle purchase. However, i could have bought a reasonable priced single bottle of wine if I'd wanted to.
And, don't think that just because I will have a massive supply of wine in my flat, that my intake will no doubt increase.
That argument carries no weight as far as I am concerned.
And, by the way...Graeme Souness! Can you hear me..? Go Now!!!! It's over!!!
Show a semblance of dignity and allow me to pick up my cash....
He's shamelessly hanging on for his compensation money for being sacked. If he had any conscience he's walk away, realising that he has made a complete and utter c**t of the job!

18/01/06 I'm Free...

"...and freedom tastes of reality" as Roger Daltrey of The Who sang...
Actually, I find freedom tastes more like steak and kidney pie and carrots than anything else ; but that's probably just me.
I mention this because I have just finished my latest IT Contract and am once more a man of leisure of sorts.
In my spare time I have been making a few Bollywood short films.
Take a look at this and this and this and even this and finally this cinematic masterpiece.

Yes, I know that these are all fairly rubbish, but hopefully one day I will be clever and funny and all that.
These will just have to do for the time being...
It only took me 10 minutes to do them all anyway...so what do you expect...come on!...be reasonable for god's sake...
I have just been out visiting my local, friendly fundamentalist atheist Dave Reilly whose ankle I accidentally broke in a football match 8 weeks ago.
He's still plastered up and is still getting painful grief from his foot.
I advised him he should pray to the Lord and it'll probably heal quicker.
Hopefully, he'll get a good report when he gets a hospital check-up on Friday.
I had brought exotic fruit to cheer him.
He was happy to see it, and it was great fun exchanging chirpy banter with Dave.
I confidently stated that this was the first time I'd been in his house since 1985.
This surprised the Reillys as they only moved in to their house in 1987.
I suspect it's a case of reincarnation, and in a previous life as a gypsy accountant, I may well have been in his house...
But Dave probably doesn't believe in that sort of scientific reasoned argument.
I suspect you can read his version of this historic encounter here.
On the way home "A Little Glass Of Champagne" by Sailor came on the radio (I was listening to Radio 2).
Coincidentally, Dave and I were not drinking champagne, but took coffee instead.

I have stopped smoking again (zzzzzzzzz...boring...boring...boring...).
I had actually intended to keep smoking till the public space smoking ban comes into effect in March.
I just smoked too much one night late on...couldn't get to sleep...was a zombie at work all the next day, and just thought this is fucking stupid.
I don't even actually enjoy smoking all that much.
So here we go again...
Anyway, I've done 15 days now and feel tip top...no cravings whatsoever...but I suspect I've said that very same thing in the past...

I just happened to be flicking channels and I came across Celebrity Big Brother.
I don't watch it really. I just catch the odd snippet. Yes, really.
Anyway, George Galloway came up with an interesting anecdote...
He recounted a conversation he's had with Nelson Mandela relating to his 27 year imprisonment on Robben Island.
Mandela and the ANC bigwigs had come to a group decision not to smoke during their captivity.
This must have been an extremely tough decision to take, as I'd imagine smoking is generally regarded by prisoners as an isolated little beacon of pleasure amidst the tedium and angst of being locked up.
Their reasoning was that the guards already controlled their liberty, and that by smoking, it would give the guards more control over them, in that they'd also have power in terms of controlling tobacco supply to the inmates.
Not smoking was to them a gesture of inner strength and defiance.
So anyway, I really should be able to stop a lot easier than them!
As George said, that's a major reason why Mandela looked so healthy and vibrant when he was released.
He'd probably have looked vastly different if he'd been on 60 a day for 27 years.

15/01/06 Sven, Will I See You Again?

Doh!


Sven, Sven, Sven..... I can't believe you fell for the News of the World "Fake Sheik" routine!
It's been used several times to catch public figures on the hop, eg Newcastle United directors were quoted as saying "Alan Shearer is like Mary Poppins!" and "...all Newcastle women are dogs!" ; then there was Sophie of Wessex saying that her PR company "could fix up Royal contacts" for clients.
There have been a few more which I can't remember the exact details of.
The format is always the same though. A rich "Sheik" looking to throw a few million quid around gets the salivating personalities to be a little more candid than is generally adviseable.
If I was approached by a Sheik, I would treat him in the same way as I would treat a noted practical joker inviting me to sniff a large, (suspiciously plastic), flower pinned on his lapel.
I would immediately pull at his beard to determine if it was false, thus rumbling his disguise before he had the chance to entice me into making embarassing remarks about famous people that I am a close, personal friend of.
There would be a worry though that I could get into serious trouble if I pull the beard of a bona fide Sheik, who legitimately wants to speak with me on business.
Pulling someone's beard in Saudi Arabia is a serious criminal offence.
However, it's worth avoiding the risk of being shown to be a gullible idiot in a downmarket national newspaper.
I can't think of any other country in which the national media would seek to destabilise the national football team such a short time from a World Cup.
It's a very odd aspect of our culture.
It's the lengths that they went to in order to set up the entrapment which is mind boggling.
They invited Sven and his assistants to go to Dubai under a false premise..booked rooms and function suites in posh hotels, hired actors (including the legendary "Fake Sheik"), and ultimately got some inconsequential shite about how he
"might leave his job if England win the World Cup"
If he wins the World Cup, I expect he'll be free to do whatever he wants...He could even arrange oral relief from the Queen, I'd imagine...
I hasten to add, this doesn't apply in Scotland...
There would be a compulsory media blackout and a suitable duration of "national mourning". Probably about 6 months.
"BBC Sports Personality Of The Year 2006" would be even more unwatchable than it usually is.
There will be a special edition of "A Question of Sport" with teams from the 1966 and 2006 World Cup Winning teams playing against each other.
Geoff Hurst and David Beckham will be endlessly photographed together saying how much "they respect each other".
All the squad will be knighted...
"Arise Sir Wayne Rooney..."
It's a nightmare...a nightmare...make it go away...make it go away....

Oh, and the other "revelations" were that Rio Ferdinand is "a bit lazy" (shock! horror!), and Michael Owen isn't that happy at Newcastle and "only went there for the money" (well, who on earth would have thought that)

12/01/06 Will Jodie Be Evicted?

hmmmm.....yum yum






A nation holds its breath...!
Not that I ever watch that godawful rubbish TV show "Celebrity Big Brother", but is Jodie Marsh a definite to get booted out tonight as she has seemed to be all week? I'm not so sure now....
It's a funny old Johnny, "memory", you know...
A "Beryl The Peril" storyline in the broadsheet comic "The Topper", (for the sophisticated child who looks for something slightly edgier than the bland tabloid fare of the "Dandy" and "Beano"....eg "Biffo the Bear"...what was all that about?).
Anyway, Beryl and her pals stage a spontaneous series of "anti-grown-up" demonstrations demanding certain "rights for kids"; much to the chagrin of her long-suffering father.
He is embarassed very publicly and is forced into making a number of lifestyle concessions to his brazen daughter Beryl.
All the adult neighbours think this is hilarious and take great delight in Beryl's Dad's obvious discomfort.
However, Beryl's Dad then embarks on a cunning ploy.
He ties his hands together and stealthily attaches himself to a pram by a length of rope or something at the back of Beryl's latest demo.
It gives the appearance that he has been abducted and tied up by the militant children and is being humiliatingly paraded throught the streets.
On seeing this, the adults are outraged and decide "enough is enough".
"They've gone too far this time!", they all exclaim in unison...
The kids' revolution is brought to a shuddering halt, as all the participating children are frog-marched home by their parents, and are probably soundly thashed for good measure.
What I'm trying to say is that although Jodie has been irretrievably awful ;no-one likes a bully.
She has accumulated a good deal of sympathy over the past couple of days as a consequence of being subjected to sustained aggression from the other inmates, principally Pete Burns, (who is himself almost as obnoxious as Jodie Marsh, but not quite...)
I think he may have overdone it.
British people hate bullying and will always have a measure of sympathy for the plucky underdog, even if she is completely obnoxious.
I'm bored...
pathetic excuse...I know, I know...

08/01/06 Celebrated Big Brother

My older brother is currently staying in my flat.
While I have been earnestly trying to save the planet by not sending any Xmas cards, (and thus discouraging continuing mass deforestation of the rainforests. It should be obvious that I am a true environmentalist who "talks the talk and walks the walk".), Gavin leaves the light on in every room he visits and is shockingly wasteful with my (and ergo the world's) energy supplies.
He reminds me of Michael Jackson in his "Billie Jean" video in which Jackson magically lights up every surface which he has just stepped on.
Paving slabs, staircases....you name it....Jackson switches them on with absolutely no consideration for the ensuing electricity bills.
On football matters, Graeme Souness is teetering on the brink of getting the boot from Newcastle Utd.
The £250 prize for predicting this event taking place before the end of the season is almost within my grasp.
Predictably, he's vowed not to resign under any circumstances ; in spite of the fact that his reign there has been a disaster, and he's totally lost the support of the fans and now, apparently, the boardroom as well.
The trouble is, no manager ever actually "resigns" these days. They wait to get sacked so that they get a tasty big settlement payment for the remainder of their contract. It's understandable, but inconsiderate, as I'd like my money now, and can't be bothered hanging around for the Board to finally wake up, smell the coffee, and bid farewell to Mr Sourness.
Continuing on a football theme, it was my great honour to score the first goal of 2006 in our regular 5-a-side game.
A left-footed half-volley whizzed passed the static keeper to open the scoring.
My overall contribution after this feat of derring do was fairly limited.
But that's of little import. My work was done. And my team strolled to victory.
To come back from a debilitating hamstring injury and achieve this great honour is surely one of the great sporting feelgood stories of 2006.
It's reminiscent of Bob Champion winning the Grand national on "Aldiniti".
Perhaps I should try to sell the rights of this inspiring tale to Hollywood?
On the subject of football, England fans concerned with Michael Owens's World Cup fitness prospects, in light of him breaking his 5th metatarsal bone, should relax....
9 years ago, I broke exactly the same bone playing football, but 6 weeks later was back playing again, and effortlessly managed to recapture my pre-injury level of footballing mediocrity, and haven't looked back since.
I expect it will be the same with Michael.
I also invested a load of cash in "UK Coal plc" yesterday...
With our projected increasing reliance on Russian gas, and the ensuing risk that they could get shirty with us in the same manner as they have been with Ukraine, I've figured that we may well re-open a lot of the pits that were shut down, and increase production at existing ones.
Well yes, carbon emmissions would go up, but we could counter that by continuing to reforest the Scottish Highlands and that'll act as a carbon sink.
It's obvious innit?
It's either that or build loads of new Nuclear Power Stations. This is possible, but deeply controversial, and would probably take a long time to agree sites and build them etc...
So I reckon that coal will make a comeback (sort of).
And of course if everyone who reads this buys thousands of shares in "UK Coal", it will push the share price up, and then I can immediately sell my holdings, make a large profit and leave you all to take the future risk that my hypothesis is utter bollocks. (which it most likely is)
That's the way Capitalism works.
It's great, isn't it?

05/01/06 Memories....

Not looking a day older than when I last saw him in our student days, Miles seems pleased to see me!









I was buying a filled roll from the local Deli today when I spotted a familiar face in the queue.
I had a ponder and then it struck me.
Could this indeed be "Miles", with whom I served on the Entertainments Committee at Stirling University, many,many years ago?
I didn't run over to hug him. I could still clearly remember that we didn't really like each other at Stirling.
Miles was stringently sensible and responsible in his student lifestyle choices. In fact he probably still is.
In contrast, I had a more cavalier attitude towards the moral maze of student life, and as a consequence we weren't the best of buddies.
There was probably more to it than that, but I can't remember precisely.
Famously, myself and legendary ne'er-do-well, Sandy Grom, were unceremoniously booted off the Ents Committee by "Hanging Judge" Miles and his cohorts.
Our offence? We had been on box-office duty, and had been duly pestered into giving away 6 tickets for the "Pathfoot Disco" by some of our "so-called" friends.
I hasten to add that there was no profit in it for us. It was a selfless act. We were latter day "Robin Hoods" ; stealing from the rich ("Students Association"),
and giving to the poor, unwashed, simple-minded, poverty-stricken individuals who relied on us for support, (aka Dave King, Jim McManus, Bill Wilson, Bill Burns, Richard Arnott & Shamie McTickle). ...
However, when the discovery was made that ticket money was short, we stood accused and had to face the crass indignity of a disciplinary hearing.
It was nothing but a show trial...
We'd hoped for an appearance by the six direct beneficiaries of our ticket largesse. An appeal for mercy from them, a hearty endorsement of our previous impeccable character, along with an apologetic undertaking to reimburse the "Students Association" with the deficit, might have bought us a more lenient punishment...
However, they didn't show up at all, and had apparently gone to the pub in town to take beer instead...
It was a huge blow for our defence team...
We then had no alternative but to plead guilty to all charges.
We anticipated a ticking off, but Miles wanted blood. We sat ashen-faced, as we discovered we were being kicked off the committee with immediate effect.
"The Guildford 4" and "Birmingham 6" cases paled into insignificance when juxtaposed with this horrendous miscarriage of justice.
For me personally, this was an unmitigated disaster. Being elected to an Ents role had many nice perks.
For instance, we were paid to attend all the University concerts & clubs, (we would have been there anyway), only having to spend a short time on the box-office rota. It was the best job to have as a student.
I was also paid to attend a "Students Entertainments Conference" over a weekend in Sheffield as a Stirling representative, staying in an extremely posh hotel.
I even shared an elevator with David Vine, who was presenting BBC coverage of the "World Snooker Championship" at the Crucible in Sheffield, and was staying at the same hotel... I said "hello", and he said "hello" back.
It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
These were halcyon days indeed...
I got to meet and say "hello" to many top music acts like "Siouxie and the Banshees", "The Undertones", "The Adverts", "The Cramps", "Squeeze", "The Pirates", "The Skids", "Gong" (cough), "The Thermometers" (cough cough), "The Capital Models", "The Pure Bears"....basically ALL the greats....and occasionally some would even say "hello" back.
Anyway, I spoke to him as he paid for his sarnie, and it was indeed Miles....
It turns out he does freelance IT work as well. At the Royal Bank of Scotland, no less.
We had a few minutes of banter and then bade our farewells.
I cursed that I didn't have spare tickets for some vacuous club event on my person....
I could have flashed them at him and said "Hey Miles, I shouldn't really be doing this, but would you like a couple of free tickets to this vacuous club event?"
Hopefully he would say, "Yes, that'd be great!"
Than I'd go "aha!!! so you'd take them would you! without paying?? aha!! Got You... Got You....yes...yes...yes...revenge ....revenge...I win etc etc etc"
I'd continue this rant indefinitely until the Deli staff were forced to call the police and I am then formally arrested for a "breach of the peace"...
However, I'd be confident that the super six(aka Dave King, Jim McManus, Bill Wilson, Bill Burns, Richard Arnott & Shamie McTickle) ...would redeem themselves, securing my release and paying my bail money to make amends for their shoddy behaviour in my previous time of need at Stirling University.

04/01/06 Cough Cough

Pete gets in some valuable "pre-smoking ban" training (at altitude)












Idiotically, I've recently relaunched my smoking career with a
vengeance.
It's not the case of me making an eccentric 2006 New Year Resolution to "start smoking again".
I have to confess that I've been furtively puffing away for a couple of months.
Some friends have helpfully pointed this out by saying with a concerned look, "you've been smoking quite a lot lately, haven't you?"
To which I usually respond, "Yes, thanks for noticing, it's going really well. My ambition is to build it up to 60 a day by next month, but, in fairness, that's a big ask!"
I'm not quite sure why my sustained nicotine abstinence campaign so spectacularly imploded. Strange, very strange. I was doing really well.
Thankfully, help is at hand; in March of this year, the smoking ban in public places comes into effect in Scotland. This should finally extinguish my pathetic nicotine addiction, as I generally only smoke when I'm drinking.
I'll be genuinely delighted when the ban comes into force, and once again I'll assume the gratingly, self-righteous persona of an "ex-smoker".
Unarguably, they represent the lowest form of life on the planet.
To ready myself for post-March encounters with hardened smokers, I'm already practising waving my hand in front of my face, coughing theatrically, and cultivating a perpetual pious, disapproving expression on my face.
I'll be ready to go in March....! Yippee!
Me old mucker Pete, who smokes on average 750 ultra-light Silk Cuts a day (2000 a day at weekends), is mightily concerned about the implications of the upcoming ban.
He is very fond of a coffee and 400 cigarettes of an afternoon in the cafes and bars of old Edinburgh toon.
This legislation is obviously going to have a drastic impact on his social life.
I was thinking of suggesting to him that he writes to Silk Cut, and inquires, as one of their best customers, if they can design some special cigarettes for him?
Perhaps he could have a packet of 60 ft long fags that he could sit in the bar with, drinking his coffee, but sticking his elongated coffin nail out of the pub window and then smoke it till it burnt down to the window, carefully storing the exhaled smoke in a balloon which he occasionally takes outside the pub to pop with a knitting needle to release the contents.
I'm actually surprised that the Scottish Parliament haven't already acted to close down this obvious loophole in the ban legislation.
The only flaw in this ingenious smokers' counter-action is that Pete will need to employ someone to wait outside the pub with a step-ladder, which he or she (let's not forget, it's the era of equal opportunities) would climb to light the end of Pete's pub-window protruding giant gasper.
He or she would also have to carefully manoeuvre a 20 ft wide glass ashtray towards the pub window, thus collecting the ash as Pete inhales deeply from his fantastical fag.
It's the only way I can think of to easily beat the ban, and Pete's Titanic Tabs would be the talk of the toon.
Alternatively, I suppose you could wear a hermetically sealed astronaut suit and smoke inside it?
Mind you, it would be uncomfortable having all the smoke swilling around in your suit, and as a consequence, you would be simultaneously smoking actively AND passively, thus increasing the health risk exponentially.
Scrub that one. Stupid idea really.