The Ben Halls Blog

Writer's block? What writer's block?

2010-04-22T22:18:00.000+01:00

You know, they say that when you have absolutely no bloody clue about what you should write, you should try doing some free writing. I'm not entirely sure who 'they' are, but what I do know is what free writing is. It's when you don't censor yourself and you just sort of let words pour forth from out of your brain and onto your computer. It's a bit like freestyling, except with far, far less street cred.

The reason that I'm doing it is that for the last few weeks I haven't had a single solitary clue about what the hell I should write. I've kept the whole sports blogging stuff ticking over as, frankly, it is ridiculously easy to mock the sporting world. But in terms of other, actual writing? Forget about it...

I currently have three books which are really not doing a whole lot. One is finished and just needs some early chapter edits before submission to the editor, one is 30,000 words in and needs some extra early early chapters pumped in to it as it is apparently bad form to start your main 'call to arms' half way through the second chapter, and one which is 11,000 in, but is serious and I can't make dick jokes in it. That means that my entire vocabulary runs out at around the 11,000 words mark. Well, frankly if I can't make jokes I run out of words at around the 11 mark, but we'll ignore that.

Then you get to here, where I generally spend each Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday sitting around scratching my chin looking at a blank page for a few minutes, then switching off by computer and trying hard to crack the top 10,000 lap times around Road America in Forza 3. I've lost my mojo a bit, frankly.

On top of that I have a script which has about two scenes finished and a lot of scribbles on a white board, college applications which are sat unfilled on my desk and a 'To Do' list which is off the bottom of my white board and onto Postit notes.

So, has all of this helped? Well.... no, frankly. I still have absolutely no clue how I'm going to structure new opening book chapters, no idea how I'm going to introduce 3 more characters in a script, no idea how I'm going to write an entire book without making dick jokes and no idea how I'm going to shave 7 seconds off of my Forza 3 lap time. Still, at least I got a Thursday blog posting done...

The Folk You FInd In Pubs

2010-04-15T22:37:00.000+01:00

I spend an awful lot of times in pubs. Well, to be honest, I spend an awful lot of time on the floors of pubs drunk as a skunk, as that is the way I roll. Anyway, through my times in pubs I've noticed that there are always a few certain stereotypes of people. Here are some of them.

The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy

Usually, The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy spends a disproportionate amount of his time in a pub. He will generally have one favourite pub where he spends most of his time and is probably so close with the landlord\landlady that he mows their lawn. As a normal, and sober, person he is probably a great guy. Thing is, when he gets a few drinks down his neck all of a sudden he is the font of all knowledge and his barstool is his soapbox. Got an opinion on politics? Wrong. Got an opinion on sport? Wrong. Explaining how something works to someone? Wrong. Talking about a historical event? Wrong. You see where this is going? Well, if you do see where this is going then The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy would still say you were fucking wrong. Without a word of a lie, I have heard one You're Wrong I'm Right Guy walk up to two people talking and say “No, that's complete rubbish. By the way, what are you guys talking about?”

The Middle Aged Ho

Ahh, The Middle Aged Ho... is there a more beautiful thing? People seem to be of the opinion that any trace of sexual promiscuity in women just sort of stops around the age of 30. Well, that isn't really true. If you look around any pub, there will always be at least one woman in there who is well into her middle age and doing some old school sleeping around. Maybe she is a recent divorcee, maybe she has just always been single or maybe she is having an affair. Either way, if you look around any pub then there will be at least one woman who you would never, ever think of as a a sexual being sat there macking with some different guy each and every week. It happens, and it is as disturbing as it is hot. You know you'd hit it at any rate.

The Drunken Gangster

Some people, when they get drunk, start to talk a little bit of rubbish. Usually it is just a bit of exaggeration and boasting, the way that drunken people do, but every now and again a drunk dude will let slip a dark secret – he is a gangster! Oh yeah, he is a real bad ass... he totally knows a guy who killed a guy, totally knows people who sleep with shotguns by their beds and has totally been lucky himself not to do serious time. When I was a kid, a few people did say things like “Don't mess with me, my brother knows people who have killed someone” and, at the time, it was an absolutely terrifying prospect. Then, of course, we all grew up and realised that only a tiny amount of people actually know these random killers who are walking the streets and shopping in Sainsburys. Still, The Drunken Gangster is totally one of those people. The only thing, though, is that all of his hardcore, gang banging knowledge comes from films and TV. If he wants to boozily explain how to dispose of a body, he will just quote Snatch word for word. If he wants to explain how to run a scam, then it will be something like Casino. This, though, does open up one of the best opportunities in life – quote the next line of the film they are referencing. Oh, it's great fun – you have this drunken dude quoting a film like it is his own original idea, and then you quote the next line. It is the stuff that dreams are made of.

The Eternal Mother

Lets face it, pubs, bars and clubs are all places in which people generally make a tit of themselves. They will either flame out with someone they want to bang, get drunk and fall down or fight. It is just the way it is, accept it. The Eternal Mother knows this, and will always be there to clear up the wounds. Need some reassurance? Well, then The Eternal Mother will be there to give you a hug and a pep talk. Two big guys about to kick seven shades of shit out of one another? Well, The Eternal Mother will bravely step into the middle of the battle and scald them both with a mother's tone in order to regain some order. Drunk? Then The Eternal Mother will sit you down in a corner with a big glass of water and make sure you know you're making a tit of yourself. Indeed, The Eternal Mother is like a guardian angel, hovering over all those within the pub world and taking care of everyone under her charge. For the love of god, buy your pub's Eternal Mother a drink tomorrow!

I think there is something wrong with the sky...

2010-04-14T03:21:00.000+01:00

Right, I don't want to alarm anyone but I think something is wrong with the sky. Over the last few days, I've noticed something a little bit... well, a little bit disturbing. This big yellow thing is in it, and it's gotten really hot. I think, and I admit this is only a working theory, but still.... I think that the sky might well be on fire.

We all know what the sky is like usually, right? It's grey, miserable and covered in cloud, throwing down rain and snow whenever it chooses. It is a right old miserable bastard that sulks and makes it its own business to ruin everyone else's life. You have something planned that is going to take place outside? Well screw you, it's going to rain. Need to get home from work early? Well, fuck you it's going to snow out of season. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what the sky is usually all about.

Recently, though, I've noticed a change. The usual fluffy grey stuff that is all above us have moved away and instead it's this really pretty nice blue colour. What is even weirder is that I can go outside in shorts and a t-shirt and not be cold. And you know why? It's that giant fireball in the sky. That thing that looks like a flaming tennis ball smashed up in the sky, acting the cigarette burn on top of the baby blue surroundings. It is making everything all hot and nice, forcing people to stop being grumpy and start enjoying themselves.

Where it gets even weirder is the night. Instead of the sky just being this great big black expanse broken up intermittently with the glow from the closest urban jungle, there are stars and the moon. It really is all very pretty.

But, the sky isn't meant to be pretty, or nice, or warm. It is meant to be this cold, uncaring miserable thing that gives us grounds to make small talk with each other; a common enemy to hate on. All this nice weather stuff is weird. I mean, sure – it is nice to be able to go outside and enjoy a good old fashioned beer garden, but that isn't what weather is meant to be.

At the end of the day, the weather is meant to be annoying and ruin our lives, not nice. Therefore, the big fireball in the sky must be put out. I therefore make a plea to each and every one of you:

When you next see the sun, I want you to grab your garden hose and spray it as high into the air as you can. I want you to spray the sky with all the water you can find while screaming “Damn you fireball of doom, get back to the Southern Hemisphere where you belong! This is Walford, not bloody Ramsey Street!”

It's the only thing that can return us to normality...

Women, and their part in the downfall of the Internet

2010-04-07T20:18:00.000+01:00

Back in the old dark days of t'internet, it used to be that all men were men, all women were men and all children were FBI agents. It was the rule of thumb, and that was that.

In this Eternal September era of the internet, though, all sorts of folk are online. It's amazing. I've even seen women, and not ugly frumpy ones who live with 17 cats, use the interweb! And not in the 'You have to pay to see me' way either, actual real womenfolk using it for their own personal enjoyment. It's incredible and borderline life affirming. Thing is, it also often leads to disaster.

We all know that the internet is made up mainly of men. Of those which spend a serious amount of time on the internet, the kinds who belong to WoW guilds and are regulars to Justiv.tv chat rooms and the like, most of them are geeky guys. There is nothing wrong with that, frankly I'm probably classed as a geeky guy, and it is something that has major advantages. The downside is that more often than not, throw a genuinely hot girl into the mix and things start to go a little haywire. It's a bit like the excellent TV show The Big Bang Theory, except with less wit and more flame wars.

It is an unwritten law of the Internet that each and every big online streaming 'channel', every forum and every World of Warcraft guild must have at least one hot girl. It is like the changing of the seasons or Chuck Norris' awesomeness, it just is. Then, the same things always happen. Guys think that they have a shot at nailing them. They take various approaches, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Here are some of the “How To Fail With Some Hot Chick You Know From An Online Group” (yeah, abbreviations and snappy lines aren't my thing...) techniques.

The White Knight

You want to know what The White Knight's moto is? “If you protect the camwhore, you will get to nail the camwhore.” Although in this example there isn't a 'camwhore' per se, just some sort of random hot girl who is sharing a virtual space, the theory is the same. While other members of whatever online community inundate the Hot Girl with love notes, sexual suggestions and general flirtations, the White Knight will defend her honour. Why? Because there is no better way to get on a girls good side and into her pants than suck up to her like her potential new BFF!

The Dick

You know how back at school, there was always one guy who was a proper dick? He was probably either the kid from the richest family in town, related to a minor celeb or something like that. He may even have just been a stand out at something and known it. Well, either way, he was good and he knew it. That made him act the dick. Well, the same goes in geeky circles to. You do get some right proper dicks. And in terms of trying to nail the random Hot Girl who happened to stroll into the same online community, The Dick will use all his dicky moves to try to get in there – showing off, putting others down, coercion - you name it. That is why The Dick is called a dick. He is a dick.

The Bust Up

Why is it that no matter how many generations pass, the same old story always plays out – two guys fall for the same girl and then proceed to wreck a friendship over it. Really, all guys should have the following tattooed onto the insides of their eyelids “Brothers before Bitches.” In the more geeky online version of the world, though, the good old 'Its either him or me' bust up usually occurs sooner rather than later when two leading guild members\channel broadcasters\forum mods\etc. both fall head over heels in love with the same Hot Girl. It will always end in some good old fashioned drama between the supposed friends, as you just cannot do drama like the internet can, with the girl eventually winding up with some guy form outside the web who is a normal, well adjusted person. C'est la vie.

You Know You're Drunk When...

2010-03-31T16:25:00.000+01:00

You Know You're Drunk When...

... a kebab seems like the best invention since the fire that cooked it.
... setting fire to sambuca, putting it out on your hand then drinking it seems like a brilliant idea.
... that gate MUST BE CLIMBED! NO MATTER WHAT!
... that girl with the moustache and adams apple looks like Megan Fox.
... that angry email you've always wanted to send just flows like poetry. It would be rude to not let them know how you really feel.
... all electrical devices that allow you to spend money or communicate with another human being should, in hindsight, have come with a breathaliser. On the plus side, after calling your boss at 3am to ask for a raise you will have plenty of time to watch that Knightrider box set you just ordered.
... someone knocking into you accidently becomes grounds for an international incident.
... fighting bouncers is the best idea ever. You are more opressed than every minority ever! You should totally storm the club armed with a windscreen wiper shouting "VIVA LA REVOLUTION!"
... you feel that undying urge to tell someone you only half know that you love them and want to spend more time with them.
... you are male and think you can dance.

Who needs a sleeping patern?

2010-03-29T17:08:00.000+01:00

Look, I'm going to admit something here - I messed up. I know, I thought I was perfect too, but no...

I've spent most of this weekend covering The Australian Grand Prix and watching UFC 111 and Wrestlemania 26 as a fan. That means that I have absolutely trashed my body clock. I've always had a somewhat lapse grasp on my sleeping patterns, but this weekend it has gotten ridiculous. It is like jetlag, except I didn't even get to go on fucking holiday.

Anyway, the upshot of all of that is I've fallen off the ball here a bit. I intended to do Thursday's post inbetween the first F1 practice sessions, but I couldn't keep my eyes open for long enough to do so. I meant to do today's while watching Wrestlemania, but instead we started doing shots whenever anyone was on screen in just their trunks and it all got a little fuzzy...

Because of all of that, I'm left with the immortal question that plagues students the world over - do I stay awake for two days to correct my body clock, or do I just wing it and stay on a messed up body clock. I mean, it can't be THAT bad for you to sleep at 7am and wake up at 4pm, can it?

Actually, compared to some students, a 7am till 4pm sleep pattern is sort of normal. I'm up late at night quite a lot watching\covering sport and without a word of a lie, a huge number of students I know are known to turn up on Skype calling me at 3am saying "Yeah, I just woke up. What day is it?"

And that is another reason while I'm always jealous of students. They seem to live the life of a king - sleeping as much as they want, whenever they want and they ALWAYS have money to go drinking. All the more reason why I'm strongly considering becoming one, just to take a 3 year holiday... I mean, getting a degree can't be that hard, can it?

Anyway, I'll be back to normal tomorrow as , even though today is Monday, this is Sunday's post...

Dear Cold: Fuck You

2010-03-24T17:28:00.000Z

Dear Cold,

I understand that you chose to infect me, and frankly I enjoyed the fact that it gave me an excuse to develop a borderline Night Nurse addiction and spend three days on the sofa. Now, though, it is Monday. I need to work. I quite enjoy earning money, and if I don't work then I don't get any. Giving me sporadic fits where I explode in a snotty cloud of germ isn't really conductive to me being able to buy food this week.

Neither are the pounding headaches, either. They really bug me. I do NOT like headaches, you see. To put it bluntly, Mr Cold, they fuck me right off. In a week where I'm having to do far too much web design work, which gives me a headache anyway, they are totally NOT helpful.

I also have to be awake all weekend covering the Australian Grand Prix for The Black Stuff. Colds do not help that.

Please. Go away. Now. The Night Nurse can stay though....

Thank you in advance,

Me

More of those Randoms that you see at Clubs

2010-03-18T18:44:00.000Z

On Tuesday, we examined those random people that you see out and about at bars, clubs and the like. Today, we are looking at some more. Let's get moving, shall we?

The “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl

I'll play out a little scenario for you, lets see if you can relate. There you are, getting your groove on on the dance floor when all of a sudden this stunning young girl wanders up to you. She knows your name and seems pleased to see you in a shy, teasing sort of way. You immediately think that if a girl like that can wander up to you and know your name, then you should rush out and buy a lottery ticket as clearly your luck is in. Then you give her another look up and down. All of a sudden a crushing and terrifying thought pops into your brain - “OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT IS *old friend*'s LITTLE SISTER! SHE GREW UP! AND SHE IS HOT! WHAT DO I DO!?” That's right – the last time you saw this girl was at least five years ago and she was more interested in dolls and playing house and doing well at school. Now there she is in front of you wearing a skimpy skirt, high heels and a top that shows off two things she did most definately not have the last time you saw her. And she is drinking!? What do you do!? Do you just sort of smile, say hello and walk off? Is she fair game? I mean, you haven't seen *old friend* for a few years, have you? Surely he might not mind if you buy her a drink? After meeting the “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl, you will then spend the next several hours swaying between thinking “Oh my god the last time I saw that girl she was watching the Disney Channel” and “Look at her move on the dance floor!” Head implosion is the likely outcome here.

The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy

I'm not talking about knowing a celebrity in a professional manner here. I'm not even talking about knowing a real celebrity either. The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy usually knows someone who has been on reality television or flamed out spectacularly on some talent show. They may even just be a friend of a relative of someone famous. They aren't anywhere near famous in their own right – they could walk past a paparazzi with their johnson flying in the wind and the camera guys wouldn't so much as feel a twitch in their trigger finger – but by the way that fame sort of trickles down, they are considered on the fringes of celebrity. Still, that is just about enough fame to weaken the integrity of some girls' underwear. Without a word of a lie, when I was a mere simple, stupid teenager one of the guys in my social circle went on Brat Camp. That was a TV show where teenage kids who were absolute douchebags got to go on TV to be straightened out by some tough camp. This guy was on television for one hour one week just for being a complete and utter douche. The amount of girls that got excited was unreal. It totally works both ways too, as the daughters and younger sisters of celebrities are gold dust to men who will work their rear ends off to garner that attention. The moral of the story? People want to frog a celebrity and absolutely any celebrity will do.

The “One Up” Guy

The “One Up” guy is usually a friend of a friend, someone you don't know all that well. You might sort of recognise him, but will only realise that he is a “One Up” guy the first time you have an in depth chat with him. You know that little song that went “Anything you can do I can do better, I can do anything better than you”? This guy is the living embodiment. You played a bit of football in school, maybe even for a non-league team? He had try outs with Premiership clubs. Your band is starting to pick up gigs? He has shared a stage with a number one artist. You saving up to go to the Far East for a few weeks? He spent a year living and working out there. You just bought a new car? They just bought a better one. You know the type. After talking to them for five minutes, you want to punch their smug little face so hard their appendix falls out.

The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl

It is a well known fact that all girls think they are fat, regardless of their actual body type. You can have girls who naturally have shoulders that are about as wide as a matchbox think they are Godzilla and you can have girls that are nice and normal think that if they starve themselves, they can look like matchbox girl. It doesn't matter if you are healthy, normal or what, girls always think they are fat and are always on a diet – it is one of those facts of life. These diets even carry on to the nights out, with those on a serious health kick preferring to drink vodka and tonics and white wine over those notoriously carb heavy shots of tequila and sugary cocktails. They may even make the conscious decision to dance a bit more to sweat off all of those fattening lemon wedges. At the end of the night, while the normal people start looking for something nice and unhealthy to eat The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl starts talking to her friends that are on the same health kick about all the yoghurt and bananas and stuff they can eat when they get back home. Except, as it always is, they are sharing a cab back with someone who is not on a health kick. And that someone will want to go to a kebab van first as, well, you just do when you have tried to replace your blood stream with beer. The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl will grudgingly go along, knowing you cannot convince a drunk person otherwise. Then it happens. As soon as they get there, they can't help but order a double burger and cheesy chip pita wrap. Just so you know, these girls are also the same ones who, for their entire time at school, said they were on a diet and proved it by never eating a thing apart from chocolate from the vending machines.

Those Randoms You See Out At Bars

2010-03-16T23:32:00.000Z

I don't know if I just happen to semi-know a lot of people, or spend a bit too much time people watching (you know, when you just sort of chill out and watch other people as the world goes by), but when I'm out and about on a Friday or Saturday (or Thursday, or Wednesday... you see where this is going?) night I see an awful lot of people I recognise. Some of them I actually know, either quite well or in a “Hey, aren't you so-or-so's friend? Didn't we go to school together?” sort of way. Some of them I just recognise the stereotype. Anyway, the point is I recognise a lot of people. Here are some of them.

The 'Hey, don't I know you? I don't? Ooooh...' Guy
You all know the feeling. There you are, stood at the bar with drink in hand having a ball when you see someone wander across the room. Your brain, for whatever reason, straight away says “Hey, I know that guy!” You then make a beeline over to them and greet them with a huge hug saying things like “Oh my god John! How are you buddy, I haven't seen you since that end of year party as a freshman?” or “Wow, Craig, awesome to see you? You moved back into the area now? How long has it been?” Thing is, they have no fucking clue who you are. You have basically just wandered up to a stranger and started talking to them. They may look an awful lot like your long lost buddy, but in reality they are just some dude trying to have fun and you are this weirdo who keeps trying to touch them. You either don't know them and never did or they have completely forgotten you. Move away and save at least a shred of dignity. Or quote popular memes from the era.

The 'Oh my god I do NOT want to talk to this screwed up guy' Guy

Usually, the Screwed Up Guy can be found in the smoking areas of clubs that he is far, far too old to frequent. Maybe he remembers the time when the place was a more age appropriate bar. Maybe he was even young enough to go there when it first opened. Usually, though, he just goes there as the cheap booze deals which attract the chronically cash strapped youth also appeal to him. Anyway, we have all met the guy. You wander outside to have a quick smoke and maybe use your phone when all of a sudden this random old drunk dude starts yapping at you. Usually something about 'back in my day' or 'hey I did this once' kind of stuff. You are then left with two choices – give monosyllabic answers as the old drunk douche goes on about something you don't care about, or you end up joining him. The later is considered worthy of the death penalty, by the way. The secret third option is of course to immediately stop drinking in case you turn into them.

The 'Hey, would you buy me a drink?' Girl

You all know the one. She knows every guy in the club. She knows twice as many guys outside of the club who will be willing to give her a lift home. She gets in for free because she is a little favourite of the bouncers. She drinks for free because convinces guys that if they buy her a drink, they will totally have a shot with her. She is also very good at picking on guys. She never picks the confident ones, as they would either be more skilled at coercing something in return or just tell her no. Instead, she picks on the runt of the litter. The guy who doesn't really find big bars and clubs 'his scene'. The guy who looks kind of awkward. The guy who would probably rather be at home seeing if he can get through MGS4 without killing anyone unnecessarily. This guy doesn't see the 'Hey, would you buy me a drink' Girl as what she is – just some girl using her sexuality to score free stuff. Oh no, he sees her as one of those girls which his friends tell him about. He thinks SCORE! I'm in! She thinks I'm cute! I'm going to have sex with her! I'll marry her! I'm in love! Poor guy....

The 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl

We all know them. They will go out dressed in skin tight mini dresses that are considered too long if they go an inch over their bum. They will wear tops which show off their boobs, which have of course been made more alluring with glittery sparkly stuff. They will have spend hours getting themselves ready for the night. They look stunning. Slutty, yes, but still stunning. Then you dare to look at them and all you get back is “What the fuck are you looking at, you pervert?” I'm sorry, but if you are going to spend hours dressing yourself up in clothes that show off your body to the maximum, then you do not get to complain when people stare. Without a word of a lie, one of my friends who is a bit of a 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl went to a Beach Party themed club night in a bikini. Not even a modest bikini either, we are talking skimpy stuff. She wore a big old coat and then she walked in and took it off, the entire band of surrounding guys of course started up. She then turned around and went in all seriousness “What the fuck are you doing that for? Get a life you perverts!” and stormed off. This is a girl who wore a bikini to club getting pissy that people looked. Unbelievable...

More to follow on Thursday! Also, if you liked this you may enjoy Five Different Kinds of Drunk and Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.

Blogging keeps you awake for boxing - FACT!

2010-03-14T16:22:00.000Z

Oh my fucking god am I tired. I mean, I thought this whole covering sport thing would be fun. Well, it isn't when it keeps you up for 22 odd hours at a time. Anyway, in order to keep myself awake throughout the Pacquiao vs Clottey fight, I thought I'd make running updates for today's post. Here we go...

Pre Fight

It is sods law that the fight before the main event is going the distance. Don't they know that I am crying out for my bed!? Come on people, stop coasting to the end and knock each other out. Or go to points. Whatever. Just make me suffer.

Finally... now we just get the twenty minutes of video packages and ring entrances... yay...

The Sky guys are amazed about the massive HD screens at Cowboys Stadium. That is what I've been gawking at all year during Cowboys home games... well, the screens and Romo's interceptions...

My lungs are going to regret the whole smoking to stay awake thing I'm doing at the moment. Also, it took Clottey so long to reach the ring... god only knows how much Pacman will milk it.

After about 7 hours of build up, LETS GET READY TO RUMBLE!!

Round One

Pacman looks to take an early advantage, but most of his hits bounce off Clottey's guard. Clottey has a few searching punches but he must know that no judge in the world would give him a points victory over the cashcow of Pacquiao. He is just sizing him up for a KO shot. 10 – 9 to Pacman.

Round Two
Pacman is starting to pick his gaps and get shots in on Clottey, who is too busy protecting his head to protect his sides. Clottey is in a very passive mood tonight, and that annoys me. He is getting the odd shot out, but nothing that will ruffle the wee diddy Filipino. Second round to Pacman too – 20 – 18

Round Three

Come on Clottey, PLEASE do something other than make Pacman throw punches. Please. That will not get you a victory. No, do something – stop standing there getting hit. And throw punches other than jabs. That may help. Hmm.. saying that, Pacman is getting caught by a few. If he didn't have a chin made of steel that may do something. I'm still giving this round to Pacman, but it would not surprise me if at least one judge gave it to Clottey – 30 – 27 to Pacquiao.

Round Four

Pacman is still unloading, but it looks as if the few punches Clottey is landing are a bit heavier. Still, in terms of work rate and ring control Pacman is walking this so far. He shouldn't get careless, but Clottey doesn't appear interested in challenging at the moment. I stayed up for this? 40 – 36 to Pacman.

Round Five

Pacq is easing off a tiny bit, allowing Clottey to get a word in. Clottey has had the best opening here but Pacman is finishing the round strong. To be honest, I think Pacman is easing off and looking for counter opportunities. Eurgh, tough round to judge... still, I'll give it to Pacman again. 50 – 45

Round Six

Come on Clottey... let loose. It won't hurt... well, until you get punched in the face. I think the last round got a bit close for comfort for Pacman, he is still allowing Clottey to come at him to open up counter opportunities but is throwing enough to control the round. Watching this one sided match makes me wish I was seeing Mayweather in there even more. 60 – 54.

Round Seven

The trainer is finally taking my advice and is telling Clottey to start taking some chances. He needs to do something, his only hope to get remotely even is a knock down. And, no offence to Clottey, I don't see him knocking Pacq down unless something really fucking weird happens. Right now, Pacman is just sitting back, throwing the odd punch, letting Clottey come at him and then throwing a ton of punches. He did get caught by one sole meaningful punch, though. Oooh, and one or two more. Still dominating, though. Respectful touch of gloves after the taller Clottey got on top in a weird clinch on Pacman. Still, after all that it is 70 – 63.

Round Eight

I've got bored of saying this now. Pacman doing enough, Clottey gives it a token go and then Pacman unleashes. Low blow by Clottey there, and Pacman takes a few seconds to check his balls are intact. I guess they are as they are back at it. The ref, weirdly, tries to break up the friendly glove pat at the end of the round. 80 – 72.

Round Nine

Clottey's trainer Jesus (no relation) points out the blindingly obvious – he is losing every single round. Despite knowing he is losing, Clottey is still just sort of standing there getting hit. I really hate fights like this. And I know it will trudge on like this for the distance. The Sky commentators, trying to keep us bored sleepy people interested, wonder if Clottey has something special he is saving for the last rounds. I'm betting.... no. In a weird way, it is a shame Clottey hasn't got a cut or something so his corner have an excuse to pull him. Pacman now bored with poking Clottey and looks like he is going for the knockout. 90 – 81.

Round Ten

Clottey is just going for the 12 rounds so he can say he went 12 rounds with Pacquiao. Jesus says the ref will stop it unless Clottey throws some punches. Personally, I think this should have been stopped in round four. Clottey does not stand a chance and if Pacman goes for the KO, he could get hurt. I suppose I need to give Clottey his dues for taking this ass whooping like a man, but come on now. Just give up, there is no shame in losing to a monster like Pacman. 100 – 90. The round hasn't even finished and I'm writing up the score. Clottey is giving it a little go now, but if he thinks he can get a one punch KO on Pacquiao then he is gravely mistaken.

Round Eleven

The crowd are urging Clottey on, probably to just fucking do something of use. He has wounded Pacman, though, who has a tiny welt under his eye. Two huge punches from Clottey. He is not going down without a fight. At this rate I might give him the round. Probably wont, but I might. The crowd have woken up. Pacman is not happy that Clottey started throwing and is now turning the power back up. 110 – 99, although you could argue the case for Clottey in that round.

Round Twelve

The roof is open in Dallas to let all the hot air out. God I hope that Mayweather's fight is better than this. Anyway, Clottey is finally just throwing without a care in the world. He is getting tagged, though, and Pacman looks as lively now as he did in the first. Any young boxer should take a lesson from Pacman's work rate. Right, this is boring now... just finish, let me see if Pacman did win every round and I got the card right and let me fucking sleep. 120 – 108.

Post Fight

They are hugging and now Clottey is wondering how he will spend his purse as he gets a lap of honour on his trainer's shoulder. He could be a good opponent for people looking to test their work rate and counter punch countering, but that is about it. He got hit so many times and never blinked. In fact, Pacquiao's face is a bigger mess.

One judge agreed with me. The rest gave Clottey one token round, probably the eleventh. All I can say is that if boxing wants to compete with MMA, you need to do better than that. That was so fucking dull. I'm going to sleep. Humph. Oh, and I can be up in a few hours

Hey, check this out!

2010-03-12T08:55:00.000Z

All weekend I'm going to be covering the opening Formula One Grand Prix of the season live at my F1 blog The Black Stuff. This is a hugely daunting task.

I've never really done the whole live sports coverage thing before. I've done more analysis than I can shake a stick at, and taken part in umpteen of these live chats with the guys over at Shutdown Corner, but never actually done one myself.

Well, still, lets see how I cope. Drop in over the weekend and check it out -I'll be live whenever the cars are on the track.

Five More Different Kinds of Drunk

2010-03-09T19:16:00.001Z

Seeing as my last outing here, in which I highlighted “Five Different Kinds of Drunk”, was pretty popular (at least according to Google Analytics), I thought I'd do full explanations of the kinds of drunk who only made the honourable mentions list first time around.

I hereby present Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.

Enabling Drunk

The Enabling Drunk is often found right in the heart of all the drama that surrounds a typical night on the town. Whether it is two people having a disagreement, someone being an Emotional Drunk, someone cheating or just any sort of event that is above and beyond the norm of dancing and drinking heavily, you can guarantee that the Enabling Drunk will be smack bam in the middle. They will spur on Emotional Drunks, telling them that their problems are the greatest to ever befoul such a kind soul. They will needlessly stir the pot when two Fight Your Friend Drunks get to each others throats and they will blow any sort of kissing between two people not in a long term relationship completely out of proportion. Enabling Drunks are also the most likely to cry at doormen.

Loud Drunk

There is something about the Loud Drunk that means that with each and every drink that they pour down their beck, their voice creeps ever louder. It will begin with them just talking a tiny bit louder than everyone else. Then they will start talking over everyone else. Then they just don't stop talking. By the end of the night, if anyone is brave enough to be near the Loud Drunk then they must either already be deaf or be wearing earplugs. The Loud Drunk does have their advantages, though, as they are quite often used to order drinks successfully over a noisy bar.

Fight Your Friends Drunk

“Oi you! Yeah, you! You who has been my best mate for at leas five years? What the fuck are you looking at? Did you say something about me? Did you make a pass at my girlfriend? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your fucking face! Come on then! I'll have ya! Oh my god I'm so sorry dude! I never meant to act like that! You're my best friend, I love you man. I'm so sorry. What do you mean you don't accept my apology? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your stupid fucking face!”

Predator Drunk

Predator Drunks are the kinds of drunks who are usually found creeping around the outsides of a nightspot. You will rarely see a Predator Drunk venture into the middle of the dance floor to pick up their victims. Instead you will find them acting far more cunningly, stalking the outside areas looking for vulnerable Emotional Drunks or messy Drunk Drunks. Generally, there are two types of Predator Drunks. Male Predator Drunks will look for women who are either looking in a bit of emotional distress or just Drunk Drunk in order to act the knight in shining armour and swoop in for easy prey. Female Predator Drunks, though, will generally seek out intoxicated below-normal attractive men and make them buy them drinks by flaunting their lady bits. It goes without saying, of course, that Female Predator Drunks will never, ever let anyone actually touch their lady bits, they just want the drinks.

Naked Drunk

Alcohol does things to some people. Sometimes it is a freak, one off occurrence. Sometimes it happens with a disturbing amount of regularity. Whatever the frequency, the end result is always the same – alcohol makes some people get naked. I'm not talking about an 'Alcohol Makes You Sleep With People' thing here, oh no. I mean that get some people drunk and they feel the need to get naked in public. When the Naked Drunk hits that stage, their clothes become an uncomfortable nuisance and all they can think of is being naked and free like a German tourist. Sometimes a guy will take his top off and swirl his shirt around his head. Sometimes a girl will get her boobs out in order to elicit a cheer from a bunch of horny guys. Skinny dipping is usually involved somewhere down the line too, assuming a large enough body of water can be found. The exact situation matters not, though. All that matters is the point that Naked Drunks like to get naked.

Five Different Kinds of Drunk

2010-03-07T18:33:00.000Z

This might be surprising to some people, but I got drunk last night. And while I was in this drunken state, I started coming up with theories. It is something I often do, as my mind is usually more productive when it has umpteen pints of beer in it. Although, last night it was closer to umpteen measures of whiskey in it. Anyway, I digress...

When I got drunk last night, I started theorising about the different kinds of drunk there are. I don't mean stuff like “It's fun to go out drinking with Steve, he is a really great guy when he is hammered” or “Never, ever go out drinking with Brian, he gets awfully stabby after his third mojito.” No no, I mean that quite normal people can get different kinds of 'drunk'. Sometimes they get funny, sometimes they get rude, sometimes they get violent and sometimes they get naked and pretend they are a clown. It happens. Lets examine some of the more common kinds of drunk people get.

Hungry Drunk

This, I will admit, is what I was last night. I don't know why, but sometimes when the beers are rushing through your veins all you can think of doing is eating your body weight in whatever food you can get your hands on. It is when you are feeling Hungry Drunk that a visit to the kebab van takes on a whole new meaning. Instead of just grabbing a box of chips, a burger or (if you are feeling incredibly brave\drunk) a kebab, you just take a long look in your wallet and buy as much food as you can afford. You then get home and make a bacon sandwich, have a bowl of cereal and take the first thing you see in the fridge to bed with you as a late snack.

Lewd Drunk

There is always one, and they are almost always male. Stick a few gins down his neck and all of a sudden the upper male brain shuts down and the lower male brain takes over. In the Lewd Drunk's head, he may believe that he is cooing out words of woo that would make Hugh Hefner look like a gawky kid at their first spin-the-bottle party. However, in actuality all he is doing is asking girls to get their boobs out and running up a pretty long list of things that will just add to the next morning's hangover pain. This never stops the Lewd Drunk, though, as in their mind the only thing women like more than being objectified is being drooled over! Score!

Sick Drunk

More often than not, the Sick Drunk will start the night off saying things like 'Oh, I don't really drink much' or 'I suppose I'll just have a bottle of beer, I guess'. At about the halfway point, when the regular drinkers who know how to handle their hooch are either starting to just maintain a buzz or dive into the deep end of Black Out Cove, the Sick Drunk is usually already far drunker than they ever have been. By the end of the night, when others are busy making sloppy passes at the opposite sex or twitching violently on the dance floor, the Sick Drunk is usually in the bathroom removing the entire night's alcohol from their system in one foul swoop. They will then continue to do this all the way home, all through the night and, if you are really lucky, throughout the next morning. Oh, and they also create an awful lot of drama.

Gay Drunk

We all have those friends. What better way is it to appeal to the opposite sex than, when the drinks have duly been pounded, to get a little up close and personal with your same sex buddies? It is a plan that can never fail! With guys, they often get awfully up close and personal with their same-sex friends in order to make sure that all the womenfolk in the joint know that they are secure with their sexuality, love the attention and are fun guys. With girls, is there a better way to show that they are sexy little minxes than by macking with their bestest friends? Once again, it is a plan that can NEVER fail!

Emotional Drunk

They are the one who, while the rest of your group are inside pounding the shots and working on making sure that walking in a straight line will be a significant issue for many days to come, is sat outside in the smoking area pouring their heart out. Maybe they have just been dumped, maybe the person they are 'totally in love with' has just shot them down or maybe they are just frustrated with something that is trivial the rest of the year, but at that exact moment in time is the greatest drama to ever befoul a life ever. Whatever the reason, the emotional drunk will spend most of the evening out gushing about their massive problems to anyone willing to listen before promptly not giving two shits as soon as they sober up. Emotional Drunks are also usually found in pairs with an Enabling Drunk, who will convince them that they are right and their lives are so drama filled that someone could easily make an Oscar winning film about it. Or partnered with a Predator Drunk who is hoping to take advantage.

Honourable Mentions: Enabling Drunk, Loud Drunk, Fight Your Friends Drunk, Predator Drunk, Naked Drunk

Introducing: The Black Stuff

2010-03-04T18:04:00.000Z

Once more no OC for you guys as I've been just ridiculously busy recently getting some new projects off the ground. One of them is my new F1 blog, www.TheBlackStuff.co.uk

Go There.....now... GO!

Introducing: Red Top News

2010-03-01T15:56:00.000Z

No formal update for Sunday (Well, I say Sunday... I mean Monday, as I had a gig in Bournemouth last night. I can exclusively reveal that the M3 is the dullest motorway in history, although I digress...)

Instead, I am here to show you all a brand new blog - Red Top News. Satire, Scandal, News and Sports all in one place. Check it out, you won't regret it. I promise. Pinky swear...

Odd Ideas That My Brain Comes Up With...

2010-02-26T15:32:00.000Z

As anyone who follows my Twitter feed will attest to, I have some really frigging odd thoughts at times. I mean, the main reason I have a Twitter feed isn't to tell the world my activity each and every fucking second of the day, oh no, it's just as a place to jot down all the odd little thoughts that pop into my brain as the day goes by.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I have a batshit crazy idea that I can't express in just 140 characters. Mostly, they are book and short story ideas (or as I call them, 'stuff I whore to publishers that never gets picked up') but here is a collection of some of my stranger ideas.

I want to write a comedy book about a nuclear explosion from the perspective of a bunny who nibbled through the wires and set it off. Imagine it - it would be epic. Everyone convinced that some rougue nation would be the one to set a nuclear bomb off, and instead it's just a rabbit.
I want to write a sitcom about a group of students, except whenever I try I just make the characters stereotypes of some of my friends. And, the thing is, should I ever get round to piloting the thing they would all be like "dude, that is so obviously me! Fuck you!"
Is it weird to want to change me name to, like, Justin Time or Barry Cade and just write a journal of what people say to me in response to my name? Although I would need to obtain fake ID for that, as I'm sure people would want proof and I doubt writing it in my underpants would be enough. Also, I am NOT changing my name by depol to Barry fucking Cade, alright?
Finally, I'm not entirely sure if I should know this, but the computer graphic for POD on the BBC 3 makeover show 'Snog, Marry, Avoid' is the exact same graphic as the one ESPN use for their world famous SportsCenter logo. You know the one, the red dot with the lenses focusing around it? Yeah, you know the one. Anyway, they are the same. And I want to know what would happen if the two of them changed places for a day. Would POD start doing a Tony Kornheiser on the SportsCenter crew? Would the SportsCenter graphic tell Bianca Gascgoine about baseball? Oooooh the possibilities!

Hot Curlers

2010-02-24T21:29:00.000Z

I'm still obsessed with curling. Obsessed with curling and very, very hung over. Therefore, have some pictures of curlers and be happy.

I am still totally obsessed with the Winter Olympics...

2010-02-21T18:06:00.000Z

I want to learn how to either do Ski Cross or Snowboard Cross... preferably Ski Cross. Basically I want to race down a mountain with sticks, duelling along the way. Or, perhaps, I'll learn to bobsleigh. As a no-year no claims bonus will attest to, I'm a damn good driver and as I'm also a pretty big guy, I'm sure I could give it a decent push. I helped push start my dad's car once. One time, I was also part of a gang that stole my mate's Vauxhall Nova by just picking it up and walking off with it, although that is entirely a different story.

I wouldn't mind giving curling a go as well, purely to get to shout and slide a lot. Oh, and hang out with female curlers. They look awesome. It appears that (German curlers excluded) to be a female curler, you have to either be some saucy little minx or some kinky MILF.

I want to slide down the ice with these people, if you know what I mean...

One sport I could never, ever do, though, is cross country skiing. Seriously, those guys are defective in the head. Have you seen them at the finish line? It is the only sport I can think of where absolutely everyone who crosses the finish line collapses on site. No exceptions. It is absolutely bonkers.

I couldn't do speed skating either, as I'd feel self conscious in all that lycra, bent over. It just isn't natural. Plus, I'm not Korean and from what I've seen that is a major disadvantage. Figure skating, too, is out for me. I do not have an ounce of agility in me. Seriously, have you seen those guys and gals? They defy the laws of physics on a regular basis. I also can't do Ice Hockey as I have an aversion to being punched in the face by angry Canadians.

TL:DR – Yes, I am still utterly obsessed with the Winter Olympics and my Twitter feed is still just one giant monument to the glory that is sliding down a mountain as fast as possible.

Things I've Noticed About The Winter Olympics

2010-02-19T04:33:00.001Z

As anyone following my Twitter feed will know, I've become obsessed with the Winter Olympics. Here are some of my thoughts:

Every Russian athlete is hot. Especially the curling team. Seriously. Wow.
The speed skaters' thighs defy logic, physics and possibly the laws of God
If the Winter Olympics is just full of sports that involve sliding, why aren't water slides and those long sheets of plastic that you laid on the lawn as a kid, squirted with washing up liquid and a hose and slid down that broke at least one kids collar bone each summer proper Olympic sports?
Have I mentioned the speed skaters' thighs?
Why invite some of the Ice Hockey nations when it is just obvious that they are there to be mocked?
Since when did it become a part of the Communist party plan to make gymnasts turn into snowboarders? Is it like some form of punishment? "Oh fuck you, you fell of the bars, we are going to strap you to a baking tray and shove you down a steep mountain!"
I feel morally superior to Shaun White. He may be infinately more talented than me, but I have better hair.
I want to bobsleigh. Not in the Olympics, just in my day to day life. Also, I want to bobsleigh drunk.
Curling is slightly erotic. All that sliding about on the ice and grunting. Think about it.
Figure skating is the best sport ever invented. I couldn't do that shit standing on firm ground, let along skating around on one leg. Also, Brett Favre may be renowned for throwing a football hard but I doubt even he could get a spiral on a fucking person.
Why don't speed skaters use their blades more constructively? I mean the big juicey acheles tendons of their rivals are there for the stomping
Double Luge is the most homo-erotic sport ever. Seriously, it's just full of men in lycra laying on top of each other grunting.
Finally, who in their right mind thinks 'I want to be an Olympian. I know, I'll lay on a baking tray on my front and slide down a mountain at 140kph! GENIUS!'

Are Video Games Art?

2010-02-16T20:54:00.000Z

First things first, in the interests of fairness yes I am a bit of a geek. Moving swiftly on...

Recently I've been trying not to go out and get blind drunk quite as often as I used to. A bit of it is because the novelty of waking up with a hang over has worn off, a bit of it is financially induced and a bit of it is I tend to be far more productive when I'm not shouting battle cries such as 'Lets go to the funfair! DRUNK DODGE'EMS!'

As a result of that, I've been playing a lot more video games recently. I've always loved them since I was about 6 and broke my leg. As I was housebound all throughout a summer holiday when no doubt my parents were quite looking forward to me going out and adventuring, they bought me a Sega Mega Drive to keep me subdued. Since then, I've been hooked.

In the last few months, I've successfully completed Mass Effect 1 & 2 (well, I completed ME1 years ago but re-played it in anticipation), Assassin's Creed 2 and Kane & Lynch amongst a bevy of others. I've also bought a PlayStation 3 to play through Metal Gear Solid 4 and the impending Heavy Rain.

Playing all these story heavy, well directed and cut scene orientated games has gotten me a-thinking. Are video games a sort of art?

Coming soon to an art gallery near you, this piece is titled 'Wohoo! A Gold Star!'

When most people think of trad 'art', they think of paintings, photos, books, movies and music. Video games are still considered much as they were in the 1980's – a form of entertainment and nothing more. But that was in the days of side scrolling games, chip music and cartoon superheroes like Mario and Sonic.

Of course there are video games produced even today which could never ever be considered art – no matter which way you slice it, Crank & Ratchet and Madden 10 are not on a par with The Avatar and The Hurt Locker.

However, there are a new generation of games which could easily be considered art. The latest Metal Gear Solid game with it's 90 minute cinema quality cut scenes, Heavy Rain with it's focus so much on story that it is being marketed as an Alternative Reality Game and Assassin's Creed 2 with it's hugely detailed virtual cities are all hallmarks of blockbuster movies. The character development and relationships chronicled over the Mass Effect series are the same as in any big screen sci-fi epic. The soundtracks are, if anything, even more epic than in movies.

Although not a completely canon point, David Hayter (who voices Snake in the MGS franchise) is even an accomplished script writer.

With the ever increasing cut scene direction, voice acting skill and immersive universes, should modern day video games be considered more art than entertainment?

Well – yes, frankly, they should be. Obviously art in it's purest form will always be hung in a gallery or be hailed at the Oscars, but I really believe that video games these days should be placed on a par with at least movies, books and television. Compared to 'Modern Art' I'd say video games are far superior.

The biggest test, though, will be getting the 'establishment' to accept video games as a genuine medium. I doubt in my lifetime there will be an Oscar handed out for the best video game, judged on scripting, design and cut scenes, nor a serious recognition for the music. But you have to admit – compare MGS4 with half a shark in a tank of formaldehyde or an unmade bed and you tell me which is more artistic?

NASCAR Daytona 500 Hour by Hour

2010-02-15T00:39:00.002Z

As I sometimes do, I recorded my thoughts throughout an event. Here are my thoughts on the Daytona 500...

17:58 – I do love the over the top intro videos that you get on big sporting events.

18:02 – I love the whole patriotism thing you get before the flag as well. You don't get that over here, sadly.

18:05 – I love how in F1, a great race has a lead change on the track. In NASCAR, a great race is a 'Crashfest'.

18:08 – Obligatory Danica Patrick mention #1

18:16 – Only in America do you get commentators plugging beer on air during a race.

18:21 – Boogity Boogity Boogity! Let's go racing!

18:29 – That wasn't long before the first crash, was it?

18:39 – How Juan Pablo Montoya hasn't just spun everyone else out yet is beyond me.

18:46 – I blinked and missed it – what happened to Mark Martin? He was in the lead last I saw...

18:47 – Oh yeah, caution pit stops. I knew that, don't any of you say that I didn't.

18:56 – This is where NASCAR does get a little dull, when nobody is crashing and it's all single file. I mean, I know that is F1 all the time but at least in that you get more interesting circuits.

19:11 – Crash, damn you. 50 laps with one caution is just not good enough. CRASH!!

19:13 – My laptop is running like mud recently. Methinks a spring cleaning is in order tomorrow.

19:22 – Mass pitstops!! Is there a more beautiful sight?

19:29 – Yes – the whole field running close at top speed. Freaking awesome!

19:57 – Why do US sports analysts always tell UK audiences that the race\game\etc. is like some chess match on speed?

20:03 – Oh Dale Jr. “It's fun being that lose, but I don't think it's going to be very productive”

20:10 – CRASH! All I want is one 10 car pile up, is that too much to ask?

20:15 – Popping Tyres. When will people learn drugs and racing don't mix.

20:43 – I go for dinner and find everyone stopped in pit road! WHAT HAPPENED!?

20:45 – The track broke. How the hell does a track break...

20:50 – I love Dale Earnheart Jr. Wise cracks and baseball trivia in race, that is the way to roll.

20:56 – Seriously, how does a track break? I've heard of relaying tarmac overnight but an in race repair? Yikes...

21:28 – Yawn. The guys are now talking about who should QB the Eagles next year. RACE AND CRASH DAMN YOU!

21:43 – Don't get me wrong, I like hearing from all the drivers, but dear lord is it boring. Still, I'm a man and as a man shall see this through to the end.

21:55 – They are getting back in their cars! Woop! I don't care if it will still be 20 minutes or so till the green flag goes, they are getting ready!

22:10 – WE ARE RACING! Fucking finally...

22:20 – Pack racing at 190mph. This is what we want, why not start this race at night if this is the result?

22:26 – I would love to spin a NASCAR car like Allmenginger just did. Looks kick ass fun.

22:41 – So the racing gets good, and the track breaks again. Nice one, NASCAR, way to look competent.

22:44 – Wohoo! Another hole!

22:47 – If they call NASCAR's flagship race because of an asphalt problem on a NASCAR owned track, then they deserve all the stick they get. This is absolutely bleeding ridiculous. Seriously, you would never get the Super Bowl match called off over the pitch, the Monaco GP over a track problem, the World Series over a pitchers mound or the Stanley Cup over an ice problem. Why can't NASCAR get their track sorted for THEIR flagship event?

22:58 – Dear NASCAR Drivers – Yes, I wish that they would just race around it too.

23:18 – RACE DAMN YOU! I WANT TO GO TO BED!

23:23 – Juan Pablo Montoya? More like Juan Porky Montoya AMIRYTE!?

23:26 – That's a good point – why does everyone harp on about Schumacher racing at 41 when Mark Martin does it at 51? I know F1 is very different to NASCAR, but still...

23:28 – The Sky Sports studio guys nearly just kicked seven bells out of each other. Proper Oprah\Brees awkward.

23:42 – Come on, race already! It's been nearly six hours of my life I have dedicated to this! Oh, and crash too. Kthxbai.

23:57 – I've always liked Scott Speed, so here is hoping there is a caution.

00:05 – You get the feeling that this is going to end in one big crash as everyone goes for broke. Or at least, I hope thats what happens.

00:16 – Here we go – shootout time. Can. Not. Wait.

00:22 – Right, let's try that again.

00:25 – So glad I didn't back Khane. Nearly did, though...

00:35 – Well after 6+ hours, well done Jamie McMurray. SLEEEEEEP.

Motor Racing and how it Ruined The Western World

2010-02-11T23:07:00.000Z

Lets face it, motor sport probably has the most elitist fans in the world. I don't mean that in a bad way, its just that each set of fans will stand up for their own particular discipline of motor sport with the sort of passionate fanboy-dom that is usually reserved for video game consoles and professional wrestling.

Moto GP and Superbike fans will mock those who take to four wheels, drag racers will argue their place atop of the hill due to their lightening quick reactions and rally drivers will consider themselves gods among men for their all terrain racing, despite the fact they never have to overtake anyone. Elsewhere, Formula One will continue to consider itself at the top of the world with a sense of elite pomp while touring car fans will argue that their rough and tumble variety of circuit racing is tops.

If you like this, chances are you also like prawn sandwiches

One thing, though, is true of pretty much all motor sport fans – they all dump on oval racing. Well, that is unless you are an oval fan to begin with, in which case you obviously think your discipline is tops.

I must admit, I used to be a part of the badwagon that jumped up and down at NASCAR and IndyCar saying that it isn't real racing as you don't turn right. “Oh no, he forgot to turn left!” I used to shout when they crashed, and I used to write oval racing off as boring. I was a true F1 and Touring Car fanboy, I was. Especially the not racing in the rain thing, that annoyed the hell out of me as the best F1 races are often in the wet.

Then, like most sports I'm not a huge fan of, I gave it a go. And I tell you what, it is awesome.

The Colleseum circa 2010

The racing and tempo is obviously a lot different to that of, say an F1 race. In Formula One, the lead may only change one or two times in a race and if you're lucky you might get one or two cars spin off innocently into a gravel trap. In NASCAR, however, you will see the lead change one or two times every ten minutes and seven or eight huge smashes are considered the bare minimum.

The main problem I think that a lot of trad circuit racing fans and oval fans have when trying to cross over to each others style of motor sport is that the philosophies are different. In F1, the aim of the race is to stay in complete control of your vehicle through a whole circuit, holding on to your own position while trying to catch the car in front. The emphasis is just as much on putting together a qualifying lap and nailing strategy as it is on getting your breaking and acceleration points right. Also, there is a huge emphasis on the car as a whole.

In NASCAR, it is proper mayhem, though. You get respites of yellow flag periods, where the race goes under safety car after a crash until the circuit is clear, but the rest of the time it is about running as close to the edge as you can get. You get packs of 40 plus cars all travelling around the 200mph mark, something that is impossible in any other discipline of racing, and then you see it all come to a pause when they crash into each other. Even the pit stops are so much cooler in NASCAR, to the point where the mechanics are often recruited out of college as athletes.

The long and short of this is just this – give other kinds of motor sport a chance. And if you like crashes, and frankly that is the only reason anyone ever watches motor sport, watch NASCAR and feel like a proper Roman.

If you don't know, the Daytona 500 is on Sunday. Check back here after the race for my thoughts. I'll be logging them.

From Cage Fighter to Ladyboy Lover in one fould swoop

2010-02-09T23:54:00.000Z

Oh, you bastard computer, you tried to hide what I wrote on Sunday but I found it! Hazar!

I love Red Top news papers. I love their 'tits and football' approach, I love the fact that according to them anyone who earns more than £25,000 a year is some sort of over paid bigot and I also love the fact and I love the fact that they over react to anything. I especially love the problem pages where people write in asking which of four people they slept with is their baby's father, as if Miriam or Deirdre are psychic. I don't care who you are, reading a Red Top paper is great fun.

At the moment, I'm loving the fun they are having with Katie 'Jordan' Price and Alex Reid. Now, for any of you who don't know who they are, then give them a quick Google. You'll soon find out. The long and short of it, though, is Jordan is a fame hungry glamour girl and Alex Reid is an unspectacular cage fighter she is dragging along for the ride.

Honestly, just read through The Mirror and The Sun's take on those two and you will get the picture of what I'm on about on the whole, but what I find absolutely hilarious is the way that Alex Reid has been described over the 7 odd months he has been in the tabloids.

To begin with, he was just a 'cage fighter', a nice fearsome manly description. Rawr. Then, however, as the press began to snoop around his past and dig up every last little bit of dirt on him, it started to get ridiculous.

First some paper found out from an ex girlfriend that was probably bribed with a page three shoot that he enjoyed cross dressing. Hey, it isn't my cup of tea but if you wish to indulge then fair play. Either way, he then became 'Cross Dressing Cage Figher Alex Reid'. And, oh, how we laughed.

Then came the real coup de grace, so to speak. Some alleged buddy of Reid's sold his story to the paper of how, on a training trip to Thailand to pick up some new kick ass martial arts skills, Reid got off with some ladyboy. Well, the floodgates truly opened then.

The point of this is simple – if you want to go from being a “Cage Fighter” and revered as the sort of man who wanted to be viewed by the general public as the kind of guy who fought bears to “Tranny Loving Cross Dresser” in one foul swoop, date a glamour girl.

I hate you, you stupid bloody computer!

2010-02-07T21:24:00.000Z

Oh, you think you're real smart, huh? Freezing just as I'm trying to save a blog update? You think you will make me write it all out again, do ya? Well no deal, buster. I'm just going to wing it.

Usually, whenever I update here, I'll write it in Open Office then just copy and paste it across. I'm weird like that, as despite the fact that Blogger gives me lots of nice tools to play with here, I'll entrust my computer with the data first. Today, that turned out to be one big royal fucking mistake.

I admit it, maybe I should have saved it more often. Maybe I shouldn't have written a page and a half before hitting Ctrl + S. Maybe I should have saved it as soon as I opened it. After all, as my old music tech teacher used to preach to us, 'Jesus Saves'. Oh well, it doesn't really matter. You've been toying with me all week, you dumb computer, running like mud. Then when I try to de-frag you, you tell me nothing is wrong and everything is hunky dory. You tell me that you haven't got a care in the world and everything is just a-okay.

I don't care. I will take you a fucking part if you test me again, you hear me? I know you can hear me, Mr Computer, and I know you are reading everything I'm typing! Mark my words, buddy, I know where you sleep and I will put you in the bath tub if you do that again!

TL:DR - My computer is a bastard.

P.S. SUPER BOWL SUPER BOWL SUPER BOWL SUPER BOWL SUPER BOWL

Man Math and How It Made My Bank Manager Cry

2010-02-03T16:54:00.000Z

Sorry about going AWOL. I promise it is nothing personal. Just I very rarely have the chance to throw myself into projects with very few distractions. I'm afraid that even this for that period was deemed one. However, I'm now back and I think the up coming plans could be quite exciting.

Oh, and before we start, if you want to see my breakdown of the Super Bowl and what you should be betting on, click here.

Anyway, to business?

To quote perhaps the greatest human being to ever live, Stan Smith from American Dad, I've been doing a lot of man math recently. All of us red blooded, hairy chested and slack jawed men love doing man math. We all know what it is. But for any womenfolk out there, let me explain the principals of man math.

The inventor of Man Math, also a man who should be captioned with the world 'derp'

Man math is where you use absolutely ridiculous justifications to talk yourself into buying shit you do not need and maybe only marginally want. You see a shirt you sort of want on a whim but can't quite afford? Man math says buy it and tell yourself that you wont get blind stinking drunk on Friday. Say you browse through the DVD box set bin at some high street store and see a few series of some show you've caught once or twice and sort of found interesting? You tell yourself you will save money at the weekend staying in to watch it and so buy it. You sort of see where I'm going with this – rather than save up and buy stuff, you use justifications you will never see through to just buy it as you're there.

I did some excellent man math today. I really want a PS3 because I am probably the only person I know not to have played MGS4 and desperately want Heavy Rain when it comes out at the end of this month. So, off to town I went. That was probably my first mistake.

Well, technically I suppose I went to two towns. The first I went to I thought had both a GameStation and a Game, plus is easier to park up and the like. Except when I meandered through the shopping centre, the GameStation is closed. Awesome, where the hell was I meant to get a pre-owned PS3 now? Anyway, I pushed it into the back as my mind as I left the house telling myself over and over and over and over once more that I was just checking out prices, not purchasing. Because of that it didn't matter if I couldn't scope out prices. So I just picked up Mass Effect 2 for the Xbox 360 and went to head home defeated.

That lasted for about seven seconds. I of course headed straight to another shopping centre.

Anyway, you can see where this is going. My quick “lets pop out and maybe get an Xbox 360 game, scope out places to get a decent cheap second hand PS3” quickly turned into “lets spend £245 on some rainy Tuesday afternoon.”

The man math behind it? Well, I have a few more invoices coming in over the next few days and I'll be staying in this weekend to play with my new toy. I will keep telling myself this over and over and over until I believe it, then be found drunk as a skunk at some bar on Friday. Good times!

Whoops!

2010-01-19T18:43:00.000Z

Can you claim being too busy being creative as an excuse to not be creative? Anyway, that's what I'm doing. You see, for the first time in a long while I have the house to myself. Seeing as how I'm self employed and all, that also means I have the office to myself and get some serious work done.

I'm working on a couple of new book ideas and I get a little odd when I start them out. I sort of work for 20 hours at a time, sleep the whole next day then do the whole thing over and over. I have sort of fallen out of sync with a few things. Sunday was a good example of that.

So, to make sure I can concentrate on other stuff, there shall be no updates until a week today. Sorry about that. But I'll make it up to you with cake!

My Car Mechanic Is Evil and Wants To Cause Me Harm

2010-01-12T22:25:00.000Z

My car mechanic is trying to sabotage my life.

Yeah, I know. That sounds absolutely insane. It's up there on a par of saying things like 'My television is listening to my thoughts' or 'My cat is sexually abusing me'. It is possibly a comment that is not quite of the same standard of batshit craziness as something like 'I killed these puppies to show you just how much I love you' but it's close.

Anyway, my car had to have a service this week. Not entirely sure why, I mean apart from the fact it sounds like a lawnmower and you need to turn right to make it go in a straight line it is in perfect working order. But in it had to go. Well, that was the first step that mechanic took to trying to ruin my life. The roads out round my way are still covered in sheet ice from the latest unseasonable snow storm that has decided to throw itself my way. Getting it into the garage was an ordeal enough.

But it was when I got it back that the real issues began.

At first it was little things. Instead of having to turn the car right to go in a straight line, it has now been a bit overcompensated so I have to steer left a bit. That is hugely confusing. When I sort of stop paying attention driving, as we all do, it means I veer to the right as my arm goes back to the good old position I'm used to – angled right. That I can cope with. I can also cope with the fact that my car is now much, much quieter, meaning that I have to listen out to see if I'm having some quite high revs. The old cliché of the mechanic moving your seat just as you got it where you wanted it doesn't even apply here, as the guy who does my car is the same height as me.

No, the thing that really annoys me is that they changed my car clock. They didn't correct it, either. They completely fucked it. I used to know how the time according to my car clock – add on two hours and six minutes. Now, though, it is thoroughly confusing. I think I now have to take off 7 hours and thirty four minutes. I think.

Why in the hell would they change my clock like that? It confused the sweet Jesus out of me when I first realised. I nearly crashed my car trying to turn left to go in a straight line and check my watch. Each and every time I've driven since I have had a mild apoplexy looking at the time before realising its seven hours and thirty four minutes fast.

What is more confusing is the buttons that change the time from my dashboard are broken. How in the hell did they change it? What the fuck did they do to my car to change it? The questions keep coming, and frankly they are giving me a headache.

Ergo, my car mechanic is trying to sabotage my life.

The terrifying prospect – it has to go back in 4 months for an MOT. I'm thinking that I may get a cow back in return at this rate.

Secret Smokers In Snow Thaw Terror

2010-01-10T21:54:00.000Z

Frosty the Snowman is not happy with your lung bashing ways

As Britain was once again awash with the White Powder of Certain Death, secret smokers awoke from their nicotine deprived sleep with a sense of imminent terror as they realised that simply covering a fag butt in snow is not a viable long term solution to hiding their habit.

The realisation came in the wake of an announcement from the Met Office that despite the fact that it appears all living memory had been replaced by a white, cold, traffic filled plateau of hell, within a week green would once more emerge into sight and people would once more remember how to laugh.

A jittery cold secret smoking man, who gave his name only as 'I have a whittled down icicle with your name on it if you say a word to my wife', told of the moment he realised that one day soon the great thaw would come and expose his dirty little secret.

“I was lying in bed, you see, having a gander at whatever posh speaking page 3 girl Sky Sports News had on that night, when all of a sudden she started nattering on about the football being re-scheduled for when the weather cleared up. It hadn't occurred to me that one day all this fake cocaine would disappear.”

“All I've been doing is dropping the butt on the floor and just swooshing some snow over it,” he continued, dropping his fag butt on the floor and just swooshing some snow over it, “but if the godforsaken day ever comes when the grounds once more return to the state where they can bear life my crimes will be exposed. I don't know what to do.”

“Do you know any variants on rain bringing voodoo spells?”

Meanwhile, Gordon Brown said that the latest round of snowy weather had brought the issue to the forefront of his next campaign manifesto.

“Along with halving the national debt by 2012 and never, ever raising taxes, we plan to introduce legislation that will make any snowflake caught on British soil subject to an £80 on the spot fine. Unless they left the clouds due to persecution, then they can go to the top of the homing list.”

The Great Big Facebook Conspiracy

2010-01-07T15:03:00.000Z

I was having a ponderance the other day. It happens from time to time. I have a lot of time to think, and get an awful lot of it done while staring at the white pages in front on me that I really should be filling with text. It is both an awful burden and an absolutely wonderful curse and I love it, as a little bit of mental masturbation is always a lark.

What is more fun that thinking is completely off the wall thinking as, I will admit, that I do have a soft spot especially for conspiracy theories. Now, I'm not exactly the sort of person who sits at home refusing to use electricity because 'the man' is onto me, all the while eating cold tins of beans and wearing a tin foil hat. I'm not quite that bat shit crazy yet. In my autumn years I hope to achieve it, but alas for the moment I appear to be borderline sort of normal. Still, it's fun and pretty much just human nature to look into things – Do aliens exist? Did we really get to the moon? Was the Titanic an insurance job? Just how is Jared Allen's hair cool? That sort of stuff.

Last night, when I was once more failing to get to sleep, I did some thinking. In it, I came to the conclusion that Facebook is a massive conspiracy. Now, I know how mad that that sounds, but hear me out. I promise I'm not a nutcase who is currently sat in the bushes outside your window touching himself.

Just imagine for a minute, if you will, that you are some big powerful government man. There, don't you feel important? Looking over all the peons with a sense of unjustified superiority like that, whoa boy you sure are a big shot. But, I hear you say, what are all those zillions of people out there up to? What are they doing? Thinking? Interested in?

Also, just the other day, you happened to be having a nice informal, dress down top secret meeting with some of your bestest buddies in Industry. They were complaining that it was getting harder and harder to control the surfs, what with the advent of movable type. It was much harder to predict their patterns and advertising had become awfully broad spectrum (as anyone who has seen L'Oreal advertised on Kerrang! TV while then flicking to MTV2 only to see fish fingers being hawked will attest to).

If only there was a way to not only find out what people were up to but to also track what they were interested in. If only...

Now for the conspiracy bit – I really do have a hard time believing that something like Facebook sprung up all by itself. I mean, no doubt that the guy\guys (depending on which legal POV you take) who dreamt it up in Harvard did have nout but the best intentions for it at the time, but I find it a struggle to believe that in 4 years a business can go from helping a few Uni students keep in contact to gaining a massive, multi-billion dollar user base. Think of all the personal information that is kept on Facebook – they can word filter what you are thinking, track what you click on, see where and how you update and so on and so forth. And I mean sure, although it is not done obviously, Facebook does sell data. If I had a wager on it, I'd bet that that data was not just stuff to advertisers to see if you would prefer a red or green car...

But anyway, as I've shown already if I put money on it I'm usually wrong.

Assuming I haven't been hauled away in the dead of night, see you Sunday!

11 Predictions for 2010

2010-01-05T18:44:00.000Z

Holy freaking meatballs, it's another year. I swear it only turned 2009 a few weeks back. Where did that year go? Where did any year go? Oh my god my birthday is in a few weeks and I'll be...

Anyway, hello. Welcome back. Did you have a good Christmas? Get lots of nice presents? Hope you didn't get a crappy jumper. That would suck. Hey, you know what would be fun? Seeing as how this is a new year and everything, let's have some predictions.

I hereby present my Top 11 Predictions For 2010

Somehow Labour will find a way to remain in power. Those guys are literally like vampires. They just will not die while sucking everything you have in the meantime. I think the only way to remove Gordon Brown and is coven from this earth is to go at him with a garlic laced spike.
Apple will help Sony in their battle against Microsoft. Lets face it, the video games and general recreational electronics market at the moment is massive. Apple can focus all they want on iPods and iPhones and iDontcares, but you know they want to overtake Microsoft as the number one computer company out there. Along the same lines, Sony will want their PlayStaion brand to beat out the Xbox one. What with a common enemy, those two have to have some middle ground.
Terry Wogan and Bruce Forsyth will fight to the death for the title of 'Britain's Grandad'. In one corner you have the softly spoken tubby fellow who will give you a Worther's Original, while in the other you have the cheeky wiry one who will tell you what your young mind conceives are a rude joke. Who will come out on top?
Formula One will allow drivers to listen to BBC Radio 2 while racing to give Schumacher a middle aged pastime.
Brett Favre will retire, un-retire, retire and then sign to pitch for the NY Yankees because his career just isn't complete without a World Series ring.
On another NFL theme, Peyton Manning will continue his transition into the role of 'comedic straight man.' Honestly, that guy can say the most serious sentence in the world and it's funny. Although that might just be his nose. Related – Owen Wilson will sue Peyton Manning over copyright infringement on comedic noses.
England will scrape through the group stages of the World Cup, win in the second round and then just as we as a country get some self belief, get knocked out on penalties in the quarter finals.
I'll get turned down for a US Green Card for the third straight year. All I want is to be able to stay in the States for more than 6 months at a time. Is that so much to ask?
Wayne Rooney, in the process of trying to teach his baby son new words, will have his vocabulary increase exponentially.
I will finally give in and fly all the way to Canada just to see a Colin Mochrie stand up gig. Related - Colin Mochrie will take out a restraining order against me.
Finally, I'm willing to bet nothing changes. Taxes will be too high, pay too low, we will all be scared about the nasty man in the shadows who wants to kill us to death and we will hide away from all this in a nice, warm cosy materialistic home pouring controlled poison down our necks. Because that is human nature.

It is still bloody snowing...

2009-12-22T18:10:00.000Z

It is still bloody snowing.

It won't go away. For a brief period yesterday, it looked as if the torment would finally end. It looked as if the good old British weather would break, the rain would once again fall and it would wash all the sodding white slippy stuff away.

Oh. Hell. No.

Instead, all that happened was the temperature plunged and the rain turned to snow, which then settled on the newly frozen ground. Fan-fucking-tastic. I was almost looking forward to being able to drive places again. At least all this snow has done wonders for my petrol consumption, which is currently zero for the week. Seeing as how I usually get through half a tank a week, I've technically saved £12,000.

Oh, and this second snap of snow has come just before I need to go places to do visiting Christmas related stuff. Excellent. I was already dreading the motorway drives alongside idiot folk who believe you can still get into the fast lane with a Ford Focus laden with 5 people, 500 presents and two suitcases. Now I have to deal with both those people as well as the sorts who, because of a single solitary flake of snow on the hard shoulder, think that the maximum speed limit on a motorway should be 9mph. Fantastic.

However, despite all of these calamities which have befouled my existence this week, there have been two shining lights.

The first, and if I must admit most douchebagy, was I spent about 3 hours on Facebook yesterday commenting about how awesome it is working from home on everyone who updated their status from their phones stuck in snow bound traffic. It was amazing. Sure, I got a lot of abuse and will no doubt be given a number of savage beatings but it was totally worth it. Although I think that is just people being sore about stuff. I mean, if you have been stuck in a multi story car park for 4 hours trying to get out into a town centre, it is all in good fun if someone comments that they “can't hear you over the sound of being warm and comfortable.”

The second shining light to brighten up my week is a tad more emo. Christmas is finally here.

Last night, I threw some decorations up, wrapped up all the presents I'd bought folk that had been slowly been developing into a decent sized fort in my room and watched The Muppets Christmas Carol three times. Today I've done the grand sum of sweet sod all and tomorrow the visiting of relatives begins.

Christmas is here. Each year I think “oh, it isn't all that festive this year” and grumble a bit then the festive season hits about now and all becomes well in the world. No work, no worries, no nothing except food, friends, family, presents and a hearty old drink-a-thon.

That, my dear followers, is what Christmas is all about.

Merry fucking Christmas and I will see you on the 5th of January. If I've sobered up from NYE by then.

Lots of love,
Ben

Snow!

2009-12-20T15:51:00.001Z

Credit for this awesome photo goes here

Well this snow is fucking ridiculous. I mean who in the blue balled cauldron of Croydon thought it would be a great idea to make it snow just before Christmas? I mean, on Christmas snowing is more than acceptable. If anything it should be encouraged. After Christmas and around NYE too is fantastic. But in the week building up to Christmas, when people still have to get to work, go shopping, drive half way around the country to see other bits of family and do stuff which generally needs the roads to be clear and trains to run, having Ol' Jack Frost shit his white stuff all over the country is not helpful in the slightest.

I've nearly smashed my car up twice already attempting to get to places I need to be and have nearly fallen flat on my arse a few times after my dipshit neighbours decided to clear their drive ways with water. This is not a lie. I've caught a few of them running their hose down their drive to clear the snow off it. The concept of gritting and salting is foreign to these people. How they can eat their breakfast without losing all their teeth chewing on a rock baffles me.

Anyway, aside from the general disruption to the simple things in life like buying milk that snow brings, it has another down side. It makes you ill. I'm not shitting you, as an adult snow makes you ill. And you want to know why? It's all your parents fault.

When it snowed when you were a kid, your parents wrapped you up warm, sent you out with a coat and gloves and scarf and hat and thermals and spear and everything you may need for a right rip roaring old Arctic adventure. Then, when the playing was done and you got back in, they made sure that you changed out of your wet, cold clothes and put on some nice warm stuff. They may have even made you something nice and warming to eat. Oh, what a glorious time it was. Nowadays, in adult life it seems you just come in out of the cold, go to the pub and get ill. The two times it has snowed this year, I've gotten ill. The first time was back in February when we had the Superbowl party up at the O2. When we all turfed out the whole place was covered in snow, so 1,000 drunk NFL fans had a big old snowball fight. As you do. The next day I felt like shit.

Last night I was out celebrating a friend's birthday. There was already still a pretty solid amount of snow still left frosting the locality, but hey ho that good old douchebag Jack Frost decided to throw some more down. This meant that we had to play in it. It isn't like you have a choice in these things. Put a bunch of beered up early 20-somethings in the snow and we will play. Deal with it. So, we threw snowballs, did some bundles, tackled each other, tried to de-trou people and what not. It was a tremendous lark. And then we all went inside and drank some more, singing songs of the joys of Christmas.

Today, I've woken up with a thick head and a sore throat. I'm ill, and it must be the snow's fault. That fucker got me sick, and not a week before Christmas proper and all. I'm going to punch Jack Frost in the face.

Anyway, you want to know the end result of my experimentations with snow? I'm telling you, no matter how old you are you need your parents around when it snows or else you will die. End of story.

By the way, assuming I survive the night and make it to Tuesday, expect that to be the last post of the year. Christmas for me starts on the 23rd and I aim to sober up again sometime around the 5th of January.

The Internet and How It Saved Christmas

2009-12-17T17:08:00.000Z

I love the internet. Not only does it allow me the possibilities to go and troll lots of uppity people, blather on and on about my simply ridiculous points of view and moan about a whole manner of things, it also lets me not have to talk to anyone face to face.

I don't like people. I don't like the general public. I like my friends, sure, and I like my family. When jobs have forced me in the past to interact with people I have obliged, but in general my rule of thumb is people should be avoided at all cost. It's nothing personal, I'm sure you are a great laugh, a nice person and a gentle yet thorough lover. I just don't care.

That isn't to say I'm a total recluse. Of course I go out. Sometimes I'm not entirely happy about the places I get dragged to, but I go. As much as I dislike dealing with the general public, the thing I'd hate more is to sit inside hating on strangers. That would just be odd.

Anyway, I digress. Christmas Shopping. Where as meeting random people for a laugh in a nightclub is one thing, wandering around town with fistfuls of bags of presents is quite another. That is not exactly my idea of fun.

This is where the internet stepped in. For the first time, I did every single last bit of my Christmas shopping (all right, I bought ONE thing in a shop) online. And from only two websites – IWOOT and Amazon. It was brilliant. It was a revaluation. Frankly, it was damned near erotic.

But do you know what the absolute bestest thing in the whole wide world is? It now means that either over the weekend or next week when I go into London to look at all the pretty lights, shop displays down Regent Street and have a mulled wine in Covent Garden, I can do it without the burden of shopping bags. And that, my dear friends, is what it is all about.

Drinking Theory

2009-12-15T14:09:00.000Z

Right, I think I've just about recovered from my weekend of helping someone move hosue. I don't mind if I'm still feeling spectacularly craptacular on a Tuesday if it is because I've been out debauching, misbehaving and pouring a few litres of controlled poison down my neck. In that scenario I do a little dance of joy and sing the praises to the alcohol gods. Unlike many, I accept hangovers as part of the fun. If going on 60 hour benders was easy then every sod would be doing it. No no, hangovers are some deity's way of making sure that only the strong go on such manic drinking sprees.

Sure, you get the weekend warriors who think it is hardcore to go out on Friday AND Saturday night. Don't get me wrong, it is commendable. The drinking of the beer is a highly respectable phenomenon and should be done as often as possible. Students too are good at this, as are estate agents and recruitment consultants. Those are pastimes that seem to be fuelled by booze.

I myself cannot deny that I enjoy a hearty drink from time to time. Although life as a freelancer often means that invoicing levels are directly related to my blood alcohol one, when the bills are paid drinking is one of my favourite hobbies. That and my aquarium.

Actually, though, when you think about it drinking pretty much defies logic. Back in the dark, distant and dingy past of a few years ago when I was still being given some form of an education, one of the classes I took was Psychology. It was actually pretty good fun. I nearly did it at Uni, but then realised the thought of spending another 5 years in education both bored and terrified me. Being a writer that lives month to month is much more rewarding.

Our Psych teacher was actually pretty cool for, you know, a teacher. Not only did Dr. B know her stuff, she also knew how to deal with a bunch of 18 year olds. Sometimes she would do little friendly experiments on us when we got a bit know-it-all, whenever a phone went off she would over analyse the ring tone and we would get onto some terrific tangents. One day, thanks to a big social event the night before, literally her entire class was hung over. How any of us had even made it into college was a mystery. Dr. B tried valiantly to teach us the lesson plan but it was to no avail. We were just counting down the time until the bell so we could head into town for some grease.

In the end we started talking about drinking, which made most of us wretch thoroughly. Who on earth would want to think about drinking in the grips of an almighty hangover? Then she told us something quite interesting. I still find it interesting. I will now tell you, and hopefully you will find it interesting.

Drinking so much alcohol that you fall down wetting yourself in a doorway before eating a Spaniel kebab from a hairy little man and falling asleep on the stairs pretty much defies logic and psychological theory. In theory, after your first hangover you should not want to drink again. We all know about the reinforcement theory of how people learn behaviour – if it is positive, you do it again where as if it is negative you don't. Well, as anyone can tell you, being hungover is most definitely a negative. Yet people still do it. I suppose you could argue that the amount of fun you have before the hangover begins outweighs the hangover itself, but frankly when you are that drunk you've blacked out for most of the fun times and just have a searing headache and wobbly bowels.

Yet people still go drinking anyway. I just find that interesting. Now, anyone fancy a pint?

Blow by Blow of a crap weekend...

2009-12-13T18:19:00.000Z

Friday

11:00 – Wake up with hangover

12:00 – Make it downstairs, attempt to work

16:30 – Give up for a bit, try to beat brain into action. Order Pizza

17:00 – Think you finish working for a short Friday. Eat Pizza.

18:00 – Realise you have another job to do. Get indigestion.

20:00 – Finally finish working, start driving to Cambridgeshire

22:00 – Realise the E14 is closed, do 4 junction detour back down the M11

23:30 – Finally get back on track

23:45 – Get pulled over for speeding. Although not getting ticket, get mocked by hot policewoman for not having a criminal record.

00:00 – Finally reach destination.

02:00 – Bed. Sleep.

Saturday

05:00 – Get woken up and get into van.

06:30 – Stop at service station for chocolate and Ribena. Buy copy of The Sun as, frankly, a white van has to have one.

08:15 – Get to flat. Start moving lots of heavy things downstairs out and in to van.

11:00 – Finally finish. Start drive to new flat location.

12:30 – Get to new flat location. Find out that we got there before the person who we are helping move because they stopped for lunch.

13:00 – Person who was the most hated in the world redeems themselves by bringing sausage rolls and cakes.

13:30 – Start unloading truck full off stuff. Double the stairs as before and a time deadline.

14:30 – Work at full pace non stop for an hour. Rain starts.

15:30 – Finally finish dumping boxes, furniture and other miscellaneous crap in flat. No time to hang around as van has to get back

16:45 – After mad dash, get van back

17:00 – Think day is done. No chance, get phone call saying shopping must be done.

17:30 – Finish getting shopping. Finally head back to house.

20:00 – After getting back, find that toddler needs looking after. Play with energetic infant for few hours.

21:30 – Dinner. Nice.

23:00 – Finally pass out through exhaustion.

Sunday

10:00 – Wake up but steadfast refuse to get up before 11am

11:00 – Get up.

11:05 – Get burdened with energetic toddler again.

12:15 – Start driving back home towards London.

13:45 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.

14:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.

15:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.

16:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.

17:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.

18:00 – Make it home! Realise that Monday morning deadline jobs need to be done. Consider working.

18:20 – Post unfunny blog post

A peek at a prologue

2009-12-10T15:17:00.000Z

As I continue to find myself in the grips of actual, real paid work, I have no original content. Please consider this exclusive peek at the prologue of the book I'm currently working on as a settlemet.

Prologue: Also known as 'How The Earth Went South'

When planet Earth decided to blow itself up in a haze of nuclear inspired glory, it wasn't considered as terrible an incident as one would think. Let's face facts, by the point that the twenty fourth century came around Earth was a bit of a dump. As more and more people had emigrated off to live out their dreams on the frontiers of space, those who were left behind were little more than the dregs of society.

And the dregs gave an admirable effort in the running of the planet. Initially, a few major players in the whole global politics and business scene stayed behind. They said they would never give up their beloved home world for the cold, dark horribleness of space. Their children, however, often had a different point of view and as the older generations of Earth loving folk died off, their genetic replacements happily took to the skies and went to have space adventures.

As more and more of the traditionally successful left, so to did the institutions and organisations that generally bred their prominence. Eventually, all that was left population wise were those who you wouldn't trust with a pair of safety scissors, the sorts of people who complain about the quality of television that is on at 4 in the morning and the criminally insane. And when those sorts are left to rule over a planet, little things like civilisation and culture pretty much go out the window. No matter what way you slice it, Murder She Wrote is not comparable to Othello.

To begin with, the Galactic Federation tried to take care of the danger zone known as Earth. They tried sending aid and providing some positive economical and political influence. But, as ever when such things are forced on people who just aren't interested in helping the common folk, all they did was swell the pockets of those in charge. Those that actually needed the little things like clean water and some food were, once again, left to twiddle their thumbs and hope that enough fell down through the system.

Eventually, the Galactic Federation got the right old hump with Earth and their pilfering, ungrateful ways. Despite being an organisation started by the human race on the exodus from Earth, the Federation finally ran out of patience with their old planet. The turnover of generations cut the bonds of sentiment with the planet and the Federation gave up, instead focusing their efforts in escaping the Milky Way to try to find other intelligent races who might actually want their help.

A few people trickled off Earth and into the larger space community, but for all intents and purposes the dregs that made up the population of the Homeworld were left to their own devices. And when people are left to their own devices with a chip on their shoulder, bad things normally happen.

In this case, the bad things started off with in fighting. The factions of countries that had formed their own little cliques all blamed each other for arsing off the Galactic Federation and their lovely, 'throw money at it to solve the problem' ways. This disagreement between folks eventually went from petty name calling to little skirmish battles, as each group fought to be the dominant one who would take over the world before currying back the favour of Galactic Federation and their sexy free money. Except it is human nature to not be able to just have little skirmishes. It is human nature to escalate things and not let bygones be bygones.

And when the people having a feud are the dregs of human society who have access to weapons of mass destruction, it became blissfully easy to see where things were heading. On an idle Tuesday afternoon at some point in an unseasonably warm autumn, countries finally had enough of each other and started to send nuclear weapons flying around the globe to land wherever they fancied. To say it left the earth a bit of a mess is an understatement. It wasn't completely trashed, but it definitely went down the used car jargon rankings from 'slightly used' to 'perfect for a restoration project'.

After everyone was done unloading their arsenals of death at each other, there wasn't a whole lot left. Most of the world was a great big crater while the parts that were habitable enjoyed a nice nuclear winter. The Galactic Federation, perhaps feeling a trifle guilty over leaving a planet to self destruct, gave them a little bit of help. They alleviated the nuclear winter in the area that was once the ancient city of London while dumping some old space station modules to help give civilisation a bit of a kick start. Eventually, enough people migrated that way and the human population of Earth began to grow once more. From either word of mouth that spread to the various enclaves that had appeared around the world or after being actively sought out and found on reconnaissance missions, the lost human souls all eventually came to London. This time, however, it was as a singularity.

To begin with, it was glorious. All of humanity joining under one banner in order to rebuild their shattered planet, vowing never again to let their differences get in the way of things. Oh, it was a wonder to behold. Except, once again, human nature sort of always gets in the way of wondrous events. When there is a chance to seize absolute power, people want to seize it absolutely. When there is only one sauce of authority, people will question it all the time.

Eventually, the rebooted human race went much the same of the old way. New London soon turned into a new and updated version of Kowloon Walled City. Instead of being the starting point for the Federation to return the planet that they emerged from to it's former glory, New London became one of the staple stops on the tours of the seediest parts of the universe. It bred crime, it bred illegality and it became a base for many of the worst characters. The fact that the Galactic Federation had given up on it meant that if you wanted to stay off their radar, that was the place you went on your holidays. Or emigrated to.

Which is a shame really. London hadn't been all that badly damaged when the world cut off it's nose to spite it's face. If anything, the whole area had been improved as a stray bomb had landed in Slough. But a self governing cesspool it never the less became.

Earth became nothing but a second thought. Even those who actively tried to separate themselves from the Federation, the Rebels, didn't go there. By the time the 26th century came about, the old Homeworld Earth was, if anything, a taboo. Not one soul of humanity looked back there.

Well, maybe one...

Paid Work Foils Us Again

2009-12-09T14:11:00.000Z

Sorry for no update yesterday. That pesky paid work got in the way. I suppose I could have knocked something together at 3am when I finished, but didn't think I should inflict a foul mouthed rant at you guys. I like you too much.

I'll be back tomorrow with a real life, sensible post.

Cat Story

2009-12-06T19:20:00.000Z

I swear to you that this story is true. This is the kind of silly life I lead.

On Friday, I didn't get done working till rather late. By that point, I couldn't be jacked to go and have a proper night out so I just made like a sad old man and walked up to the local pub for a few beers.

All seemed perfectly normal, I said hello to a few people and meandered outside for a cigarette. While outside doing my bestest to shorten my lifespan, I noticed a ginger cat chilling in the smoking area. Now, I hadn't ever seen this cat before in my life. It seemed quite friendly though. After a bit of investigation, I found out that someone had brought it down from another pub and that it was “his” cat. When he went to leave, he picked the cat up by the scruff, literally threw it in his jacked and marched off. I did think “what a prick” but, as I'm British so very reserved, didn't say anything to him. Before I finished my cigarette, though, he had thrown the thing back in the pub on his way off to god knows where.

Now, as always when you get a slightly odd situation in a pub, a roomful of men dissect and over analyse it. It all adds to the drama. We decided it didn't know where it was, as when all the humans went away the cat continued to just chill out outside. We decided it wasn't local to the pub (well, local in cat terms...) as nobody had seen it before. We therefore decided that the guy who had grabbed it and brought it down was in fact that much of an assclown that he grabbed a random cat. Come to think about it, yesterday when I mentioned that someone should do something I was told “I wouldn't, he will burn your house down.” Nice guy, then.

I considered bringing it home, but then thought better of it. It might have wandered home, it didn't seem in too much danger of being hit by a car and seeing as I was staying with my parents I didn't think they would like having this random cat brought home. Plus, we only put the family cat down last week. Too soon, man, too soon...

Anyway, I was last one out the pub. I suppose that is pretty normal really. I said goodbye to the cat, stuck in my headphones and began the walk back home. Except, when I stopped and got to the main road, I saw this little thing dart along the street. The sodding cat had followed me. I thought, as I was walking in the direction from which it was earlier snatched, it was just on it's way home. Except when I crossed the road, so did it. And when I walked down my road, so did it. It was most definitely following me. When I got to within about 30 metres of my house I was sure that it did not belong to anyone down my street and that it was for the best if I just brought the little critter back to mine. It happily followed me, and was in the front door as soon as I opened it.

Now, I had a decision to make. I had this random, strange cat follow me home. What the hell do you do? Looking at it, it had been well fed, although it showed a few signs of recent weight loss. I decided to chuck the thing some food and then went about my business. It seemed happy to chill out in the house. It unlocked the cat flap and it even went out and came back in.

By the time I went to sleep, I had shut it in the kitchen so it could get outside but not get around the rest of the house. In the morning, it was gone. I assumed it had gotten over being grabbed and yanked by the cuff, had some food and just sort of catted off somewhere.

Yesterday afternoon, however, the thing turfed back up. My dad instantly recognised the thing as a local cat who used to both play with the old family cat and sometimes sneak in and try to steal our old cat's food. Safe in the knowledge it was local, we just ignored it and thought it would go home at some point when it got hungry.

Except, it didn't. It hung around all evening. And all night. I heard it meowing when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning I heard it meow again. It hadn't been anywhere but our front door step. Taking pity on it, we gave it some food. It had been there all night and, although I don't exactly want the thing keeping on coming back, felt sorry for it.

Anyway, that's pretty much it. TL;DR - This damned cat followed me home and is trying to move in. Tomorrow we'll call the RSPCA and get some advice. Might even see if they will send an officer to give it a scan and see if it's chipped (no collar, you see). Assuming that nobody has reported the thing missing to the RSPCA, which they may well have done as it would have been missing since Friday afternoon, we will see if it can be identified. Failing that, we'll leave it with them.

Then, we get a really effed up decision. What happens if nobody claims him or an owner can't be found? Do... do we keep it?

Sort of nothingy post I know, but all weekend has been focused around this darn cat.

How To Keep An Aquarium; Simple Do's and Do Not's

2009-12-03T16:41:00.000Z

As I pointed out in Tuesday's outing here, in a vague attempt to keep me from going completely off my rocker I bought an aquarium. Before we go any further, yes I am aware that that is serial killer logic. Anyway, I bought it because it's quite nice to be able to stop working for 20 minutes or so a day and go and preen over it. It is quite relaxing, mildly therapeutic and the tank itself looks kick ass.

However, that is what it is like today. I got the thing at the end of October and only just now is it behaving itself. Up until recently I have had cats, some of my best friends have dogs and a few people I know have horses. Let me tell you something, none of those animals require half as much attention as a sodding fish tank.

Now, I admit I should have probably done some research before I henced forth with the aquarium lifestyle, but I'm a bit of a dullard. When I picked up the tank, I thought it would be as simple as buying the tank, filling it up with water and chucking fish in it, throwing some food in every day and cleaning it from time to time. Oh how wrong I was.

You have to play the chemist by preening over the thing and checking water chemical levels, you have to add bacteria and check on the health of your fish, you have to change the water and clean it religiously, you have to clean out the filter, make sure the heater is working and all sorts. It is more needy than a child.

So, for anyone out there who feels like buying an aquarium would be a good life move, please look at my simple “Do and Don't” list. It will likely save your life one day, son.

DO buy a big tank. They are a tad more expensive, but they are also a metric fuckload easier to keep. With a smaller tank, any chemical imbalance will show itself much, much quicker and kill off all your fish.

DON'T listen to people at a big old chain store for advice. Most garden centres have an aquatics bit that employs people who actually know about fish, not just morons who manage not to poop themselves in public.

DO, however, buy your big items such as the tank and gravel from a large chain pet shop. They will be considerably cheaper than any small aquatics shop.

DO read absolutely everything there is to read about the Nitrogen Cycle – the process that turns ammonia (aka poop) into nitrites (aka deadly poison) into nitrates (aka not so deadly poison). Establishing that cycle properly, and this is isn't an over reaction, will be the difference between whether your tank lives.... or dies.

DON'T put too many fish in at once. The more fish means the more poop means the more bacteria you will need. And let me tell you something, that stuff takes bloody ages to grow. In the meanwhile, while it is growing your fish will be being made rather unwell.

DO, wherever possible, steal the insides of someone's filter. A lot of the friendly bacteria you will need is on those pads, so if you can either nick one off a friend or puppy dog eye a shop into giving one to you, do it. Take that bad boy home and shove it in your filter along with the existing media.

DO find a friend who keeps the same sort of fish as you. Whether it be being able to have of their filter media to taking baby fish that they don't have room for in order to stock your tank cheaply, they will be invaluable.

DON'T buy fish based on how big they are when you buy them, get them based on how big they will get. Yesterday I really wanted to buy this cute little 'shark' type fish, until the knowledgeable man pointed out that it would eventually be so big it would struggle to fit in my tank..

DO buy fish according to their needs – some need a big shoal, some can only have one male to a tank and some need lots of females around.

DO buy a good water-chemical testing kit. Decent drop kits are £12ish per chemical you need to test for, but each will do you for well over a year.

As this has already gone from being funny to being a public service announcement, let me give you the simple 4 step guide to fish keeping

Buy an aquarium, put in a shit load of gravel and your decorations, fill it with water, turn on the filter and heater and leave it be
Wait 5 days, buy some water drop kits and a few hardy fish. I recommend 3 Swordtails (2 females, one male). Oh, and always add a product to the water that takes out the chlorine and other crap.
Feed them sparingly and check your water chemicals every day, adding bacteria booster as per the instructions. First the ammonia will spike, then the nitrites. If at any point you get over 2ppm of either, or a bacteria bloom (it will look like someone threw milk in your tank), do a 50% water change.
When both ammonia and nitrites have spiked and gone back down, add a few more fish at a time. After each addition, both readings will go back up and come back down.

If in doubt about anything at all, ask someone who knows their stuff. Much like driving and sex, everyone has to have an uncomfortable and unceremonious first time.

Things I Do To Keep Myself Sane

2009-12-01T19:41:00.000Z

When people ask me what it's like working from home, I tell them that it is better than being thrown groin first into an oily pit of supermodels. I don't have a boss looking over my shoulder, I don't have to get up at a set time so long as I stick 10 hours a day in and I don't have to commute anywhere further than down the hall and downstairs.

In actuality, it's pretty dull. I don't have co-workers to chat to. I don't have a boss to hate on. I just sit at my desk with a justin.tv stream going all day and mainly churn out press releases and short web content articles that don't allow for dick jokes. When you also factor in that I can often go for a few days without actually leaving the house, you get a pretty solid picture of my life. I call it the 'struggling writer' lifestyle, where as many others call it the 'sad sack' one.

To combat this, I've build up a number of protocols to keep my from bouncing off the walls in sheer madness. The 3 I use most are -

1) Facebook

I hate Facebook with all my soul. I hate the fact that it makes me feel self conscious that I only have 200 friends. The fact that I actually know all 200 of the people and could easily invite them out for a beer is neither here nor there. I also only have 98 photos. I just don't take a digital camera with me on nights out and cannot be bothered to edit, label and tag entire reams of photos.

However, I find myself increasingly using it to talk to people. Back in the day, everyone used to use MSN Messenger. Today, I have about 9 people who are still old school and are logged on at times. Therefore, I am left with little option but to log on to Facebook if I want human interaction. I hate it, it makes it look like I enjoy Facebook. Also, it makes it look like I do nothing all day as I'm always on Facebook.

2) Fish

I bought an aquarium. I will admit, I am a little bit of a fan of various animals and figured that buying an aquarium would give me something to do. Where as in an office, people often go outside and smoke or make rounds of tea to take a break, I have no such luck. I can smoke at my desk and I don't like tea. Obviously, the logical thing to do to get me away from my desk for 10 minutes at a time was to buy an aquarium to tend to.

I regret nothing. Sure, it costs £150 odd to set up a decent tank and put fish in it, but it is tremendous fun. One of my fish is even named after Nat Coombs, the guy who hosts the NFL On Five coverage after a few emails got read out on air. I recommend fish keeping to everyone and will probably write an idiots guide to fish keeping on Thursday.

3) Taking The Laptop To The Pub

I admit that this is probably cheating a bit, but it works. Although a vast majority of my time is spent doing jobs for other people, I do try to make sure I have at least a day a week where I don't have to do any paid work so I can work on my own stuff. Along with churning out some gibbering rubbish here thrice a week, I write a fair old bit of stuff that doesn't see the light of day straight away. I've got one book manuscript that is doing the rounds until someones decides to recognise my genius and publish it, I'm a solid start into another and I'm also working on a charity book.

For all of these things, I don't need the Internet, email and such. Nor does it matter if I'm under the influence while writing them, as I edit my work to a stupid degree at times. So I pack up my laptop and head off to the pub.
Speaking of which, it is beer o'clock. See ya'll later!

There is something wrong about buying Miley Cyrus things late at night

2009-11-29T18:18:00.000Z

I saw the weirdest person ever on Friday night.

I know that an awful lot of the general population out there are certifiable nutjobs. I'm sure that I'm probably one of them. But on Friday I managed to see the person who is quite possibly the freakiest one out there.

I didn't really want to spend any money on Friday as I had a pricey one planned for Saturday, so I just trundled round to my buddy's place to chill out, play some video games and the like. Come midnight, the inevitable trip to a Supermarket took place.

I must confess, if I have to go shopping I do go late at night. I hate everything to do with supermarkets during the daytime. I hate the traffic to even get in the car park. I hate driving around for 10 minutes until you end up parking in a part of the car park that must be in another post code. I hate walking all the way to the front door past dozens of now empty spaces. I hate all the people in there. I hate queing to pay. I hate then having to lug it all back to my car and I hate that at least one item will go off while I'm stuck in traffic on the way back home.

At night, you can get in and out inside 10 minutes flat. It is brilliant. Except, you don't half get some right weirdos. In a way it is just downright hilarious, and in others you really do fear for the human race.

Although this time I wasn't doing the full midnight shop, I still went through enough of the shop to see some of the wack jobs. One, though, took the cake.

I was thumbing through some Xbox games with my mate, as one oft does at midnight, when this guy dressed all in black wandered into the section. He looked a little bit like a sleazy Michael McIntyre, and had the full long black coat, black suit, black shoes and black shirt and tie job going on. He then proceeded to buy a fistful of Hannah Montana (aka everyone's favourite jailbait Miley Cyrus) CD's and wander off.

This creeped me the hell out. I know that there is probably something a psychiatrist could read into about me looking for cheap video games in a supermarket at midnight, but someone who looks like they want to be a hitman in a gangster movie buying products aimed at 12 year olds must take the biscuit.

Now, for a gratuitous picture and we are done...

Tony Blair Reveals Self Doubt On Eve Of Iraq War

2009-11-26T17:05:00.000Z

(This is a piece which unfortunately was not deemed newsworthy enough to make The Daily Hubbub, however another piece of mine was. Check it out!)

Blair's Self Doubt On War Eve Revealed

One of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair's closest aides has revealed that on what turned out to be the eve of the invasion of Iraq, the former Premier had suffered from serious doubts over his bedroom performance with 'wife' Cherie.

Foreign Office official and noted sex therapy author Sir William Ehrman has revealed to the inquiry being held to investigate Blair's bedroom shenanigans that the then PM used to feel terrible fear and inadequacy before he crossed the threshold.

“Oh yeah, the guy used to have some serious hang ups about his performance,” said Sir William after the inquiry chairperson bought him his third pint.

“He used to worry that this big Scottish idiot was trying to push him down flights of stairs, that his special friend George was bigger and better than him and, well, have you seen what he had to go upstairs to?”

“So I asked him what had changed since he was able to fertilise his 'wife' with alarming regularity.”

Mr Blair, who was little more than an unemployed musician before being adopted by the Labour Party, revealed that he had always thrived on the confidence that only street urchin musicians held.

“So I said to him, what is better for building up your self confidence than picking on a smaller person who doesn't really deserve it? I thought he was just going to try to gag Ian Hislop, but it turns out he took it a bit far,” added Sir William.

“I mean, I'm sure invading Iraq was one hell of an aphrodisiac intelligence shows that egging the Lib Dem headquarters would have had the same effect.”

“Now,” finished Sir William after swapping from pints to shorts, “for a golden egg and large black pudding, I'll show you what really happened that weekend at Balmoral.”

Defending The Diva

2009-11-25T17:07:00.002Z

In a very backwards way, I think I'm about to try to start defending diva-ish behaviour. I know, I know...

Some diva behaviour is a tad extreme. Assuming that The Sun tells absolutely no lies whatsoever in any way, shape or form then when Mariah Carey went on This Morning the other day, it was bedlam. Amongst the highlights of her appearance were the fact that she had an entourage larger than the crew that made the show and had someone walk backwards in front of her with their arms outstretched to catch her in case she tripped. You really do have to be a special blend of bat shit crazy to achieve that.

Oh, and while we are on the subject of Mariah, I heard a rumour about her. As it was a rumour that I can't even remember the source, of must be true as well. This rumour goes that during the inauguration of President Barak Obama, Carey through a huge strop when she found out that she would only be sat with the other VIPs at the event. Turns out, when she was invited as a special guest she thought that she would be sat up on the stage practically holding Obama's hand as he made his pledge.

Anyway, that sort of diva behaviour is simply ridiculous. No matter how big, famous and important you are there is never a justification to have the air temperature in a venue altered to be exactly what you demand it to be. There is no clause that says you cannot go on stage unless all of the lime Wine Gum's are taken out back and shot. Basically, there is no excuse for demanding a service before you perform which is either the metaphorical or literal interpenetration of getting the person in charge to clean your behind for you.

However, with all the over the top tomfoolery of stereotypical requests like a bowl of M'n'Ms with all the blue ones removed or a hooker without an STD aside, there is some merit in wanting this stuff.

At the end of the day, the sole purpose of anyone working in a creative performance job, where the product you put out there is purely there for the enjoyment of the audience, is to stick out a piece of work that the paying punters enjoy. And to do that, you have to have a happy little performer who is pleased as punch to be there. Having a grouchy little bee-hatch is just not good for business.

I will admit that for the last few days, I have not written a single solitary word. This has annoyed a few editors no end, but I don't care. I just haven't been in the mood. I won't bore you with the details, but I've spent most of the last few days in the foetal position feeling a little sorry for myself. Today I woke up and the sun seemed a little brighter. So, I'm writing.

I suppose the point of all of this rambling goes thusly – Although a lot of the demands that some celebrities and certain 'divas' put in are highly unnecessary, there is a point to it all. It is whatever they need to perform at their best. Like it or lump it, I'm sure anyone who is parting with their hard earned cash to see them would rather know that the performer had all of their needs pampered and would put on a belting show than not be fed their duck egg omelette and have the right hump.

That is my case, your honour. It may not be the best, and is definitely very one sided, but it's all I got. The defence rests.

Handball Havoc

2009-11-22T18:52:00.000Z

In a very backwards way, I think that Thierry Henry's hand ball against Ireland might be good for the sport. I know, I know... hear me out.

When it first happened, I was one of the millions who were baying for the French teams blood, screaming that it should be replayed and that Henry deserved to be hung, drawn and quartered. I crossed my fingers and hoped that FIFA would grant it, but no. They stuck by the actual laws of the game, didn't give in to pressure and France are off to South Africa while Irishmen around the globe cheer whoever are playing them.

After giving it a few days and allowing the knee jerk reaction to lull, I suppose that the decision was correct. It wasn't a full technical error, such as in the match with Uzbekistan and Bahrain where the ref gave a free kick instead of allowing a penalty to be retaken. It was human error. You cannot replay games based on human error, now matter how blazingly obvious and catastrophic it may be.

Although football fans around the world like to vilify refs as sub-human robots, they are normal people. They make mistakes. We have all made a big old cock up at some point or another. Last year I changed the radio station and in the two seconds I looked away from the road, drove up the back of a really nice BMW. That was a catastrophic cock up.

But you know what isn't human? Video replay technology. These days in football, you just can't rely on humans to make these massive decisions. You cannot. There is too much at stake financially. Plus, the refs take a massive bashing these days. It would be good to take some heat off of them.

The neigh sayers always bleat on about how it would disrupt the game, about how playing the ref is a part of it and how it would be too radical. But, of course, I know how it can be done

Do it like the NHL. They don't have a replay system like in Rugby or Cricket where it is all in house as, like it would in football, it would be used too rarely to justify such expense. They have a 'War Room' at NHL headquarters. A ref phones it in, confirms the play to be reviewed, they look at it and give the response. In football, unless you want to start a clock-stopping type protocol, you could just give the referees 90 seconds to overturn a decision, adding 90 seconds on extra time.

At least that is how I'd do it. Then a lot of the human errors in football would hopefully disappear.

No post today. Sorry about that....

2009-11-19T17:34:00.000Z

....it's just that I've been cursed with having to do some real, paid work. Have a funny picture and I'll see you Sunday.

I want a Lego Death Star

2009-11-17T17:56:00.000Z

I want to be able to play with Lego again. I don't care if it is hugely age inappropriate, I don't care if it is a little bit serial killer-ish and I don't care if it makes me a geek. I want some to play with.

I was shopping with one of my friends the other week and we had to make a bee line in to a toy store as it was her six year old God Daughter's birthday the week after. Now I am a rubbish shopper and when asked 'What about this?' in relation to various pink and sparkly things, I just sort of shrugged and muttered whatever response I deemed most appropriate and shuffled around.

However, when we ended up in the Lego department after some significant meanderings through the store, I was spellbound. As I said, I don't care if it is a bit sad, I think Lego is the single coolest toy in the history of ever. And that got me thinking a little bit.

I didn't really want anything for Xmas. I know that usually Christmas is a good time of year to try to secure that one thing that you want but just flat out won't buy for yourself, but I don't care. I've been living my dream since earlier this year when I gave up on a rubbish job market to chase a stupid pipe dream, and at the risk of sounding sappy and slightly emo, have awesome friends and family who have supported me. I thought that was enough, and that was all I wanted for Christmas.

Then after all of this, I realised I really want the Lego Death Star. Screw nice friends and family, how geek-chic would it be to have a massive Lego Death Star in your room? I mean, it would just rule. Plus I have enough guitars up there that I don't think it would be a deal breaker.

So that is what I want for Christmas. If anyone wants to buy it for me, I won't complain.

14 Hours Of Sport Recap

2009-11-15T05:42:00.000Z

Right, so here is the lo-down. For roughly some 16 hours I watched sport on Saturday. And I recorded some running thoughts as the day and the beer progressed. Here they are. Imagine this like a Twitter feed, except I've blogged it as I have like one follower and I think they are just some Eastern European porn site spambot.

Here are my thoughts from throughout the day. If you like, I'll do another on an NFL Sunday.

2:35pm – Is it me or are England just not very good at rugby any more? Well we are but we are just the worst good team ever.

2:37pm – Oh Cueto... if only you weren't so fumbly.

2:57pm – Lewis Moody is playing like his sex is on fire and tackling the Argies is the only relief he can get.

3:41pm – What happened to smash mouth England rugby? Maybe we should try to find out seeing as out kicking game is absolutely rubbish...

4:00pm – So where has THAT form been all day!? What a try

4:24pm – Bit of culture on the Rugby – Ludivicio Enaudi on the outro music. Yes, I know I spelt his name wrong. Sue me.

4:34pm – I can tell you now that the Sky interview man nearly got mauled to death by Martin Johnson

4:58pm – Well, that was the rugby. Now on to the football. Let's watch Brazil sacrifice England's second stringers.

5:00pm – Hmm, probably should save this doc at some point. Nice little tribute to Robert Enke, the German keeper who committed suicide at the weekend pre game.

5:13pm – An England defensive mistake!? I don't believe it...

5:35pm – Pretty impressed with the atmosphere in the Qatar stadium. Also, my backside hurts after being sat in the same spot. Only about 12 hours to go... yay...

5:38pm – Good continuity by the ref. He didn't give Brazil a blatant free kick on the edge of the area and just denied England.

6:17pm – Good old England and their defensive cock ups. Good old Brazil and their inability to score penalties.

6:34pm – England look properly rubbish up front. Rooney is getting no service and they don't have a big guy to lob the ball at.

6:50pm – I'm not calling the match boring, but I'm looking at cars, video games and holidays.

7:08pm – Ahh, a small break from my sporting schedule. UFC 105 is up next at 8. Although for some reason, I'm watching Merlin. This concerns me.

8:01pm – Merlin was actually quite good. Luckily, I can rebalance the man-karma by now watching UFC. I really wish they would change their tacky intro video though.

8:02pm – Did Mike Goldberg just say 'beautiful Manchester, England'?

8:05pm – There is something childishly hilarious about the fighters who have 'Condom Depot' on the backside portion of their shorts.

8:08pm – First beer of the night. I am willing to bet it will be nowhere near the last.

8:22pm – Dominating fight by Pearson here. Would be good to see if he can get a KO and go to ground at least once.

8:24pm – Bloody win by TKO for Ross Pearson. That isn't a posh swear word, Riley is bloodied heavily as the doc stops the match.

8:29pm – I love the Twingo advert where the mother is just so glad that her daughter got a job, she doesn't mind that it is as a whore. Sort of actually sums up the modern working climate.

8:32pm – Dammit America! Leicester is pronounced Less-ter not Lie-chester!

8:39pm – One of the fighters has a mouse under their eye. That must be uncomfortable and a bit of a distraction. Oh, it's now a bad mouse. Very bad mouse. Joe Rogan is very worried about it.

8:51pm – I really think that France may not make it past the Republic of Ireland here. Also, Greece have to go to the Ukraine and win to get through. That is unlikely at best.

8:52pm – Really good fight with Matt Brown picking up the W. The bad mouse, who I just learned has recently finished a 3 year stretch in the hole, clearly was on his team.

9:04pm – Apparently, the UFC might contain scenes that some viewers could find disturbing. I know – Joe Rogan only has light stubble, not the full manly beard!

9:10pm – Bisping comes out to Song 2 by Blur. Whenever I hear that song, I just think about FIFA 1998

9:24pm – Atta Boy Bisping! Great come back for the win.

9:44pm – How much product must Dan Hardy use to keep his hair maintained throughout a fight?

9:45pm – Dan Hardy just got kicked in the nuuuuuuts

9:58pm – Is Joe Rogan slurring into a bad British accent at times?

10:16pm – Main event time in the UFC. All of this is being eclipsed by the prospect of Pacman vs Cotto. No matter how good UFC gets, boxing will always be better.

10:29pm – Randy is still a good fighter, I mean he could beat 7 shades of crap out of me, but he just seems to be lacking a little something at the moment. I think his age his finally catching up to him.

10:32pm – And as I said that, he is having the round of the night against Vera.

10:38pm – Not 100% sure on that unanimous decision for Randy. But I think he did win 2-1 round wise. Then again, I rarely guess UFC score cards.

10:40pm – Joe Rogan and Brandon Vera both slag of the judges for that decision without saying it. There is something about the scorecard decisions in a lot of these fights that stink a bit. Quite often they are very shocking. And in a monopoly MMA company that is completely self regulating, it is going to start hurting the company and industry soon. I mean, you can bet on this shit and the judges often seem to have a mind unto themselves. Little bit odd.

10:43pm – I am stopping gambling for the day now. At the start of the day my bankroll was $250. I'm down $100. That is bad times. I've forgotten what a tournament cash or cash table double up feels like.

10:47pm – Just flicked over to the replay of the Haye vs Valuev fight. I never watched it live as I was in London at the time. I also never realised just how quick Haye was.

11:00pm – With the joy of hindsight, I know that Haye won. But the commentators weren't half pessimistic on the night.

11:35pm – First bit of promo came on for the fight tonight. I cannot wait.

00:03am – Not much on the sporting front at the moment. The Haye vs Valuev undercard is whetting my appetite nicely though.

00:26am – Wohoo, live bobsleigh!

00:55pm – As if knowing what is to come in a few hours, ESPN is showing an old Ali fight

1:59am – FINALLY, now we only have to wait for the undercard and it's show time.

2:28am – Why are under card fights so bad? At the moment this is just a contest to see who will either bleed to death or get DQed for ball smacking.

2:48am – I'm sure these prelim fights are good, but I'm just a tad too excited for the main event. A bit like the way a support band is often ace at a concert, but people don't care. Also, I've now moved back to the original position I was in earlier after a brief few hour sojourn to my office. And I've run out of beer. Boo!

2:54am – How the heck can a World Champ only defend his title once a year for 4 years? Also, I found rum. Yay!

3:00am – Looks like Mr. I'm Too Important To Defend My Title is getting his ass handed to him, Hazzar! Also, all the pro's are backing Cotto. He is a beast, but I think Pacquiao will do it. Did I spell his name right?

3:04am – Boxing is the only sport in the world where a guy more cut than 90% of the population is described as a bit 'soft around the middle'.

3:16am – Cotto's boys are watching Pacman get his hands taped. Antonio Margarito, the person who had put the one blemish on Cotto's otherwise perfect professional record, was suspended for illegally wrapping his hands. Apparently, the amount of tape Margarito used equated to having two cinder blocks on his fists. Cotto are making sure Pacman's camp aren't up to any such shennanigans.

3:23am – Daniel Santos is currently being beaten up by a rabbi. True story.

3:28am – I've just realised that I haven't tended to my aquarium today. Poor fish.

3:48am – Chavez Jr isn't old enough to be out this late, never mind be a pro boxer.

3:52am – Why do people always randomly whistle at boxing events...

4:02am – This fight was meant to be a gimmie for Chavez Jr. He is currently behind...

4:03am – I've also resorted to chain smoking to stay awake. Bad times. Not as bad as my buddy, who has resorted to smoking weed to build up for a game. Because we all know that smoking weed makes you be able to stay up late.

4:12am – No, the crowd aren't getting bored of this fight per se. It's more along the lines of 'GIVE US THE MAIN EVENT NOW YOU BASTARDS!'

4:14am – Chavez wouldn't just get bullied by John Duddy. He would get raped. Also, 41 fights at age 23? Bloody hell...

4:23am – I refuse to believe Nicky Piper was ever a boxer. A geography teacher maybe, but not a boxer.

4:29am – Is it weird that I'm not sold on Pacquiao? I mean he beat an old and obviously ill De La Hoya and ripped through a Hatton who was completely undone by a rubbish training camp. Where as Cotto is a beast at this weight who has only lost once, and that may have been due to the illegal hand wrapping we discussed earlier.

4:39am – Out comes Pacquiao, and I reckon already I've spelt his name 4 different ways.

4:48am – Here we go... Cagey stuff from both, but so far Cotto has the edge.

4:50am – First round Cotto I'd say. You can feel the atmosphere bubbling.

4:54am – Round two Pacquiao. For a minute it was close, but in the end Cotto made some mistakes and the Pacman absolutely ravaged each and every one of them.

4:56am – Cotto went down. Not in a major way, but his gloves hit the canvas to steady himself, and that is all you need. Pacman seems to be shrugging off Cotto's big hits.

4:58am – Got to give that one to Pacquiao as well, along with a nice knockdown. 10-8 to Pacman, making it 29-27 to the little man from the Philippines. Although, Pacman looks cocky just standing there and letting Cotto hit him.

5:02am – A very convincing knockdown on Cotto and he is hurt. That was so nearly Cotto's round too, then the little man let loose and floored him with a huge thwack. Cotto keeps doing well, wearing him down then loosing his head, letting loose and getting caught. 10 – 8 again, so 39 – 35 but I tell you now that the scores will be irrelevant.

5:05 – I think I'm going to give this round to Cotto, although I would not by any stretch begrudge anyone giving it to Pacquiao. Or should I give it to Pacman? Lets give it to Cotto and say 48 – 45

5:10 – That round was Pacquiao all over. He so nearly rocked Cotto a few times. 58-54 on my card. Although, the wee man hasn't looked as lively as before. Maybe all that extra weight is pulling on him. Saying that, Cotto is hurting badly all over. I can see a quiet round or two. Now, watch a KO happen...

5:14am – That round was all Pacman. 68 – 63 and Cotto is either going to get KOed or have his corner stop this mess. I have never seen a more dominant fighter than Pacquiao. He will beat Mayweather Jr at this rate. Easily one of the greatest ever. Easily

5:18am – Cotto cannot win this fight now. His punches are impotent, movement slow and he is just taking a beating. Freddie Roach just said 'next round'. Pull Cotto now and save his skin. 78 – 72. That said, I want this to go the distance so I can see how my score cards are doing. I think I'm a point off but close.

5:22am – 88-81. This is now just uncomfortable to watch. If they don't pull Cotto, then Freddie Roach needs to do the right thing and tell Pacquiao to go easy on him. Same as Calzaghe did against Jones Jr.

5:26am – Another Pacman round making it 98 – 90. Either Pacquiao is taking my advice and going easy on Cotto, knowing his corner won't pull him and having no wish to hurt his fellow boxer or Pacman is hurting. I'm not sure which it is, although I'm willing to bet Pacquiao knows that even Cotto doesn't have enough for one more big punch left in him.

5:30am – The crown begin to boo as the fight winds down. You know, I'm actually giving that round to Cotto. It may have been back foot boxing but he was better I thought. 107 – 100. Final round coming up, and I don't think Pacquiao will inflict the hurt on Cotto with a final KO. On an annoying note, I shunned a £20 bet on Pacman for a points win at 5/1. I'm gutted.

5:32am – The ref steps in and doesn't let the fight have the formality of going to the cards. If he was going to do that any time that Pacquiao looked lively, he could have done it 3 rounds ago. Odd decision, but Cotto was never winning this from round 3 onwards. Apparently Pacquiao has a concert he is playing later tonight. Insanity.

5:33am – I wasn't sold on Pacquiao at welterweight coming into this fight. He had a spar with De La Hoya in the dismantlement of the Mexican legend and he beat an aged Hatton. He has now beaten a dominant fighter in an amazing fashion. He is by far the best fighter on the planet today. If he stepped into an Octagon with no training, he would beat Brock Lesnar. Not really, but right now I'm that sold on him I'd back him for it.

5:35am – That is it, I'm going the fuck to bed. Then I can do it all over again tomorrow for NFL Sunday. I love working freelance!

My Top 10 Favourite Websites

2009-11-12T17:37:00.000Z

Right then children, after yesterdays little sojourn into the serious, let's have some fun. This will be a bit like one of those times at school when teacher announced that you would be watching a video instead of doing actual work. God, I loved those days. And it was usually in either Geography or History as well, two of the most god awful boring subjects there are. No offence intended to Historians or Geographers. Deep down I'm sure you're cool.

Today, we are going to have fun in the form of links. Links to some of my favourite websites mainly, the sort of stuff that makes up my RSS bar. I know it's a bit of a cop out, but its fun and easy. It also means that the stack of press releases building up for me to finish off turning into articles won't crush me like a little bug.

Shall we get started? I think I'll do these in a little top 10 list counting down my favourite sites.

10 – Prey Tell

I can't make out if Prey Tell is an ARG (Alternate Reality Game) or real. If it is real, it's amazing. It it is an ARG, it was one of the most captivating out there. You can feel the tension, the need and desperation. You easily want to read on and the whole website is a masterpiece. Check out The Skinny to find out the background, and read it through from the beginning. Masterful.

9 – Ctrl Alt Del (aka Cad-Comic)

Tim Buckley's successful tellings of two gamer best friends inter sliced with one off strips satirising the video games industry. I will admit, I'm a bit of a huge gamer and so love this strip. The characters are well defined and it is quite nice seeing the story telling evolve from the absurd to dramatic. There is also a nice animated series that accompanies the strip should you feel like spending a few hard earned bucks extra.

8 – The Listverse

I love The Listverse. I think I like accumulating knowledge and although you can't exactly take everything you read on the internet as gospel, The Lisverse is always pretty accurate. There you will find lists detailing everything from the wonderful, unbelievable, cute and funny to the disturbing, disgusting and downright macabre. Well worth a good old fashioned SWF browse.

7 – The BBC

Ahh, the good old Beeb. I know that this site is probably visited by most people at least 7 thousand times a day, but the fact it is regularly my most visited website I thought warranted a spot on the list. News, articles sports and the ever wonderful BBC iPlayer. What more can you ask for?

6 – Kissing Suzy Kolber

Now, one of my pet hates in writing is people who just swear for swearings sake and call it humour. It isn't big, it isn't clever and it really isn't funny. That is, unless you write for KSK. Between the merry gang of writers, spearheaded by Big Daddy Drew, their foul mouthed ranting, rambling and genius analysis of the NFL makes for one of the most entertaining websites out there. Although you do need to be an NFL fan to appreciate most of the humour, and being keyed up on the internal site memes doesn't exactly hurt either, I have learnt so many new swear words from that site it is unreal.

5 – Shutdown Corner

Lets get the two NFL sites out the way back to back, eh? Shutdown Corner is actually the NFL blog run by Yahoo! over at their American website. Usually, the inbuilt anti-establishment part of me says that as it is controlled by a major corporation, it will suck. Actually, all of the Yahoo! Sports Blogs are pretty amazing. They have them for basketball, ice hockey, tennis, golf, baseball and a few others. Well worth checking out, even though they are pretty high on the American-isms.

4 – Questionable Content

This is without a doubt my most favouritist webcomic ever. There are currently over 1,500 strips and watching the evolution from the first to the latest in terms of character development, artwork improvement, cast depth and storytelling is a joy to behold. Oh yeah, it is also funny as hell too. Much like CAD, QC was first conceived as a vehicle to poke fun at a specific niche culture. For QC, that was the indie music scene. However, in the 1,500 strips which followed it has evolved into something well beyond.

3 – Justin.tv

I probably shouldn't admit that I use Justin.tv seeing as it is both pretty much illegal and a bit hypocritical of me as I work in a royalty based industry, but still. I love it. My big problem is I spend about 12 hours a day in my office at home. I don't really have any co-workers or anything. So I find it quite nice to just stick on a JTV stream in the background and listen. I can pop up on the chat if I'm having a break and natter on. Oh, it's all jolly good.

On an unrelated note, I do other stuff while I'm working in order to keep me a bit sane. One of the things I do is play poker. I admitted this in front of a potential client once. Didn't get that contract...

2 – Modern Drunkard Magazine

I love this site. Although it varies immensely on how often it is updated – sometimes regularly every 6 weeks and sometimes 9 months apart – all of the content is golden. Modern Drunkard Magazine is a publication that fully supports the finer aspects in life of being a lush. If you picture a 1950's advertising guy wearing a snappy suite and a fedora while drinking martinis, that sums up this website. It is downright drunk fun. I guarantee after a browse you will fancy a wander down to your local pub. Or a quick flight to Vegas. Depends how the night turns out.

1 – The Daily Mash

Imagine The Onion but aimed at a UK based audience. That sums this site up. It shamelessly mocks the news and just needs to be read to be believed. My two favourite headlines this year have been 'Everyone Dead By Tea Time' (also the title of the Mash's new book) and 'Survivors Of Pork Flu To Enjoy Nice Summer'.

That is a nice summation of where I spend my internet time. Have a browse, have a click and I hope I've introduced you to something new. See you Sunday!

11th November

2009-11-11T21:10:00.000Z

I was going to write a post today about how silly my life is working for both UK and USA based people, how I have no body clock and how I fell asleep at my desk only to wake up at 4am with a bit of a headache last night. I was going to write an article saying about how I hate blogs who don't update on time, as I didn't yesterday. When I woke up at 4am I still had a few other articles to finish off and just finished them off and went to bed.

Then I realised what today was. 11th November. If you're an American reading this, it's Veterans Day. If you're a fellow Brit, it's Armistice Day. Suddenly, I felt deeply ashamed about complaining how doing a job I love with all my soul means I keep odd waking hours . At least my day to day occupational hazards are things like carpal tunnel, stubbing my toe on the desk and staring at blank white pages long enough to send me a bit mad. I don't have to worry about RPGs, snipers, gun locks and road side bombs. I don't have to worry about mortar fire, suicide bombs and death.

I'm a big supporter of troops. I don't like the politics behind the current wars our troops are in, but I've always held the point of view that at the end of the day they are there and you have to support them. What they do day in day out is incredible, and I know in my heart of hearts I couldn't do it. I'm also a firm believer of the 'The lowest paid soldier should be given more than the highest paid footballer' theory. If people ask me about my views on it, I just say 'Pro-Troop-Anti-War'.

I've had two thoughts about today. About what it means and all that. I'll voice them now. And I promise I'll make some cock jokes tomorrow when we return to our regularly scheduled sort of update.

I read this post by one of the Kissing Suzy Kolber bloggers, Matt Ufford, earlier, and it shook me up. I didn't actually know that the guy had been to war as a tank commander for the Marines in the initial invasion of Iraq a few years ago. But his piece is just such a human response to the whole thing. As much as soldiering is about bravado and brawn and strength and courage, soldiers are human too. I know to me soldiers are super heroes, so its odd to hear them say they are scared. And I think it is becoming increasingly apparent that that is what makes them the amazing people they are. More and more, soldiers are speaking about not only the times when they won the day, but also what happens when they come off second best. They are scared, and endure. Read it, as it is an amazing piece of writing. It gives a slant on soldiering that most people don't consider.

The other thought is more a rhetorical one.

Tonight, there will be two types of people. One will be sat at home pounding Red Bull's and playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The biggest game of the year was released this week, and no doubt Xbox Live will full of people playing it. Full of people shooting and killing, complaining about re-spawns and snipers. Full of pawnage and 1337 and everything. Full of celebrating the big kills.

One will be sat at home pounding a bottle of whiskey and trying to keep out the memories of their time at war. Trying not to think of lives they have taken, trying not to think of any of their friends who didn't make it and trying to keep out of a dark place. I know not every soldier who comes home is broken, but war affects people in many different ways. For every person who took today to pay respects to their fallen comrades and feel the sense of pride that only a veteran is entitled to, there will be someone who hasn't handled combat as well.

In WW1, Sigfried Sassoon wrote the following.

'Pray that you will never know the hell where youth and laughter go.'

On a day where we remember veterans, remember the fallen and give our eternal thanks, millions of the youth will be playing a war game recreating the horrors that defined a generation.

I just think that is fucked up.

How about some Chelsea and Manchester United feedback?

2009-11-08T19:45:00.002Z

For those of you who have been living with their head firmly buried in the sand this weekend, let me enlighten you to something quite important.

Manchester United paid a little visit to Chelsea.

Yeah. Bet you feel silly for having your head firmly hidden now, huh?

I thought I should pipe in with some feedback. I do supposedly offer some sporting opinion in the tag line round here. It's only polite. You want to know how I would sum up that match?

The officiating was just plain and simple inept.

I'm a Manchester United fan. We lost, and I hate loosing to Chelsea more than anything I can think of. But, I can be a man about it. Although I think we were possibly the better team, overall Chelsea have been better this year. So long as we can be a comfortable second and don't get dragged into the dog fight for 4th I'm happy.

But honestly, the entire officiating crew needs to be looked at after that mess. From inconsistent calls to phantom fouls, make believe timing rules to making decisions that just go completely against the rule book... it was a mess. In the first half, Terry takes down Valencia with a fist full of shirt in the penalty box. No penalty. A few times the ball crossed the line for corner kicks, and all the officials missed it. People kicked the ball away after play was brought back with no reprimand. Drogba gets kicked in the chest and gets a yellow card for it. Players were left on the sideline after being treated for injuries. There was no compulsory 30 seconds added on to extra time for the substitution. This is just stuff off the top of my head, if I actually did my job and put in some research, I'm sure I could find more.

Oh, how could I forget. The goal.

From the free kick that wasn't that set it up, to the awfully suspicious shoulder that knocked it on to Drogba standing a country mile offside waving a boot in Van Der Sar's face.... just pick some reasons as to why the goal was a summation of the refereeing performance.

I'm not bitter that United lost. I can accept that. I'm incredibly annoyed that we lost, but putting in a strong performance doesn't mean that you get what you deserve. What is the most galling of all is that once again officiating has defined a top game.

I know that all the referees are very highly trained and all that, but they need to stop being the be all and end all of the match. Instead of writing about how Valencia did a better job than Ronaldo ever did against Ashley Cole, or how Brown and Evans were as solid as Ferdinand and Vidic at their best, or how Ancelotti has guided Chelsea to a 5 point lead after just 12 games, I'm writing about refs.

The Premier League needs to do something, as more often than not the top of the table is decided by the handful of games the big clubs play against each other. Maybe give a special title to the top refereeing crews, and say flat out at the beginning of the season “These same guys will handle all the times that the four Champions League teams play each other.” Then stand behind them absolutely. Tell the managers that it is an automatic ban for questioning them, tell the refs to yellow card immediately for dissent and put in the strong officiating that is needed to control and better these matches.

Once again, it is ridiculous that the emphasis of these matches is not on the players after the final whistle is blown.

Oh poker....

2009-11-05T22:31:00.000Z

Oh poker, thou art one heartless bitch.

I'm a strong believer in karma. I don't exactly go throughout the day while helping small birds fly and nursing injured butterflies back to full health, but I try not be a complete and utter bastard. I would like to think that the arsehole in the BMW who cut me up will at some point suffer some calamity in order to right the scales.

I think in a much, much smaller way karma applies to poker. You get some bad luck and some good luck. If you get a massive, massive stroke of good luck then at some point you are likely to come a cropper. I think this is what I'm experiencing.

I'm not usually one to bitch, moan and complain if I loose at poker. So long as I'm happy with the decision I made, I'm don't mind if I've been outplayed. I'm not one of these sorts who troll around the internet going “Derp Derp DONK Derp Derp” every time they loose a hand. I'm angry at times, sure, but try to at least fake some decorum.

On Tuesday I managed to sneak a win in a little “friendly” pub game I play in possibly the cheekiest manner possible. After getting heads up, I did a pure bluff all in to try to steal a small raise. Except they of course called, as they had an Ace and a King. And I only sort of had a seven and a two... and I sort of hit a seven and won. Yikes. That is sort of like an F1 car being beaten by a Smart Car.

Since then, I've been paying. I've sat down for two little online poker sessions since then and have suffered from some sort of poker karma. Honestly, it is just ridiculous. As I type this, my King Queen suited was beaten by nine seven off because they flopped a full house. This no longer worries me and I perceive it as normal.

So I am using this posting to formally regret the poker gods to cut me some slack. Please. I mean, I didn't mean to get cheeky. Honest. I would have done the dummy all in shove with any two cards. Please, I'm sorry I won. I even said that at the time. At least give me a fighting chance!

My Big MLS Rant

2009-11-04T00:32:00.002Z

I wrote this little rant about Major League Soccer for one of my London Chronicles pieces over at Elevation Radio. Except it is horrendously off topic so did a little bit of self editing. I can post it here though.... enjoy!

Now, last week I got a wrapping of the knuckles for making fun of David Beckham's beard. To quote Mr. Elevation - “He is all (MLS) has”. Well, once again, you don't have him. It is all but a done deal now that will see Sir David of Beckham return to Milan in order to ensure he gets his ticket to South Africa for the World Cup. Let's look at this two ways (as The Premiership isn't that full of scandal this week, I have some column space).

It is very, very good for England. Beckham lifts England. Not having Beckham in the England squad is awfully reminiscent of the mismanagement of England from a few years ago. He can still distribute the ball and deal with dead ball situations better than anyone else in that squad. When he was initially dropped, the argument was that he was not a part of England's future. That was true. He is still a massive part of England's present. Being in Milan will see Beckham gearing up for his last World Cup playing in one of the world's top leagues and for one of the world's top teams. Now, let's see if he continues his tradition of breaking his foot just before the tournament starts...
The down side is it shows MLS up for what it sort of is. I watch a fair bit of MLS when it's on ESPN over here. I mean absolutely no offence, but the standard isn't great. Football in the States has a lot of potential – just look at how good the USA National Team are – but MLS by their very nature are choking the game. I'm not even talking about player quality, as that can only get better as more young people choose to play soccer and the collegiate game improves. I'm talking in the nature of it's set up.

The season is out of sync with Europe as MLS team's can't play in the winter due to sharing stadia with NLF teams. The salary cap, draft and player caps that are present in MLS are unique to US soccer, and incompatible with the rest of the world. In terms of soccer, I also have real issues with the two conference system, although with the massive distances teams have to travel it is more than understandable.

I suppose it boils down to this – MLS will never, ever be able to integrate itself into the world game while it insists on it's current model. I know a lot of it is designed to give sustained growth both financially and in terms of player development, but it cannot work. You cannot expect one league to be able to join in when it does absolutely everything differently. This isn't like the designated hitter rule. This is square shape into a round hole stuff. If Chelsea wanted to sign Landon Donavan for about £7m (a fair price, probably) then LA Galaxy would see about £250,000 of that money. They couldn't go out and spend it all to replace him. This is the only league where that happens.

I really, really want soccer to take off in the States. Soccer has been 'on the brink' since the 70's, except nobody has dared to shove their chips onto the table and put the ante up. Look at the short term exposure that Beckham got. Now imagine if that was happening every season, because the MLS was viable option for top players. Top players attract top sponsors, which attracts top TV and fans through the turnstiles. Imagine if the MLS could field competitive sides against top European clubs. Imagine if when a player like Robinho gets unsettled and could move on, he could just as likely play in Houston as he could Barcelona.

MLS needs to take a look at Manchester City and Chelsea. They were pushed that next step by throwing money at it. I know I bemoan the money in football, but if it was used to propel soccer in the States then it would be a glorious thing. It would equal the karma.

Beckham must have repaid most, if not all and then some, of his price tag back in merchandising and marketing rights for LA Galaxy. If the New York Red Bulls threw $100m at Anelka, or if the Chicago Fire threw $200m Tevez, or whatever, it would get a fair bit of interest as well. It would also sustain interest. Players of that calibre also sustain financial interest, which is equal to that of fans.

Also, are you telling me that between any sports' minor league teams, colleges, midweek use of NFL stadiums and the like, MLS can't find a few 20,000 capacity venues to use during the winter? Are you telling me Red Bull or Mark Cuban don't have an extra $500m to invest?

More to the point, MLS appears to think that attracting one or two big players and money is the be all and end all. The absolute number one problem they have, even above the way the league is made up, is that no non-American player really cares about winning the MLS Cup. The reason some players are so desperate to play in The Premiership, Serie A, La Liga and the rest of them is because they are prestigious. To be able to say you won two or three of the biggest leagues in the world in your career is huge. It puts you in another class of athlete. It needs to be something an athlete wants to do. MLS won't take off overnight. Nor will it be able to slowly burble into life, like it is trying to do now. If the MLS puts in serious money and effort into recruiting players like Beckham, and spread the players around the league, the league itself becomes more prestigious. The league becomes a more viable option for players both financially and competitively. The increase in sponsor, TV and fan interest means bigger growth. Only then can the MLS really shine.

How you know if you had a good Halloween...

2009-11-02T00:50:00.000Z

4am - Somehow make it to bed. Pass Out.

11am – Wake up in agony. Use bathroom, drink whatever liquid is on bedside table. Go back to sleep.

Midday – Wake up again. Eat rest of chow mein that was somehow obtained the night before. Go back to sleep.

1pm – Finally get up. Stumble downstairs. First flashbacks of inappropriate behaviour. Spend next hour breathing quietly in the corner. Take first aspirin.

2pm – Consider eating something. Think better of it.

2:30pm – Eat something. Regret it quickly. Spend more time breathing quietly in corner.

3pm – Track down phone. Check for drunken calls, texts and emails that may have been sent.

3:30pm – Firm reminders of inappropriate behaviour return. Breathe quietly in the corner while groaning.

4pm – Regain will to live.

4:30pm – Attempt first cigarette of day. Big mistake. Take two drags, dry heave and stub out. Will to live retreats again.

5pm – Check credit card balance. Pray that nothing was bought online.

5:30pm – Check wallet for cash. Find no notes but a small fortune in change.

6pm – Get phone call to check if you're still alive. When the answer is yes, get surprised answer.

8pm – Finally get enough liquid back in body to urinate. Get cocky and try another cigarette.

9pm – Finally the blood alcohol levels drop down to sane levels. Drive to fast food place and buy as much food as change allows.

10pm – Slink in front of sofa and suffer the affects of fast food. Check poker account to make sure no gambling occurred.

11pm – Go back to bed. Check Facebook on laptop. Loose will to live again.

11:30pm – Beer poo.

12:30am – Try to sleep. Body too broken to even achieve that.

1am – Start playing video games. Big mistake. Start feeling much better.

4am – Realise it is 4am. Feel almost back to full health.

6am – Go to sleep.

10am – Alarm clock goes off as you have to start working. Will to live completely goes.

7pm – Return to scene of crime. Be told of full details. Be surprised you were even allowed back in. Start planning fireworks night party to do it all over again.

For my two returning visitors....

2009-10-28T04:26:00.000Z

....I'm currently away this week. I'm not on a holiday as such, its more like a work camp. I'm staying at my cousin's nursery\orchard type thing while I help him lay some new industrial flower beds. It is all fun and games.

Unforntunately, the end result is no post today. Have an epic picture and make do. See you Thursday!

NFL in the UK

2009-10-25T17:32:00.000Z

Well, today the NFL is playing at Wembley. As I type this I'm watching that game on the telly while keeping track of the Vikings vs Steelers on Game Pass. I'm a little bit of a huge fan. I do feel guilty not being at Wembley, like as a fan I have some obligation that I have to go, but frankly I have no desire to watch Tampa struggle to get anything going while the Patriots get a nice lead then kill the clock for three quarters. Oh, and having to pay £160 for the pleasure. A probable £250 Sunday late in the month just before Christmas isn't cool.

Oh look, Tampa just threw an interception. That was totally unexpected...

Anyway, even though I'm not there I do love the NFL. But there appears to be a bit of anti-NFL in the UK feeling out there. Chris Chase wrote a pretty scathing piece, and a lot of the commentators in absolutely any US based NFL blog have been very against the whole thing. I'm all for it. I get rather excited when Roger Goodell gets chatting about adding another game or maybe even a Franchise.

But there is a little something that I would like to see before we get all of that stuff. It's a very basic thing. That is some decent TV coverage.

You see, for those who don't know the TV coverage for NFL over here has taken a major nose dive. Coming into last season, we had a full compliment of magazine shows and 6 games a week live on the telly box. This year, we have magazine shows shown so long after the games that they are irrelevant, the same re-runs of NFL documentaries that have been on Sky for the last 2 years and only 3 live games a week. Next year, under the terms of the current contracts, it will drop to 2 as Five is scrapping all late night sports to show a television casino type thing.

I doubt that the NFL will ever do it, but if they truly want to grow the game then they should consider maybe subsidising TV contracts to boost the number of games back up to a realistic full compliment of 6per week. Maybe they could try providing edited versions of their TV magazine shows for international markets, as they are currently so full of advertising they can't be shown until 5 days after the events.

I can see where the NFL is going with their expansion plans. See if the UK market can support 4 games a year, then maybe give them a franchise. But please, please can we sort out the basics first?

BNP on Question Time

2009-10-22T18:39:00.002+01:00

Now, who thinks that I can get through an entire article on such a delicate and polarising subject without either committing libel, insulting someone or writing something stupid that will come back to haunt me? Yeah, me neither. This is also going to be one of those wordy, serious bits. Sorry about that.

Tonight the British National Party is on Question Time.

For any non-British people reading this, the British National Party are essentially anti-immigration, anti-anything-not-typically-British sorts who want to stop immigration, 'voluntarily' repatriate anyone who is not of white Anglo Saxon descent and turn the entire country into some white supremacy state. Yeah, those sorts.

Lets see if I can write about it without incriminating myself.

For the record, and to start off with, I do not support or like the BNP. They want to live in some deluded, isolated world that is reminiscent of the sort of thing that Enoch Powell dreamt of. I love multiculturalism, I love the fact that so many different types of people live here and I love the way that the UK has been changed by it. We used to own most of the world. Now most of the world is represented inside our shores.

That being said, I do sort of 'agree' with the BNP on certain things. Now, once again, I do not like nor support them. But they do have the odd good point. At times this country does compromise core values for the sake of political correctness. At times, especially when dealing with local government, it does seem that indigenous Brits get a bit of a raw deal. I can understand the frustrations that have bread this party. I feel an awful lot of them at times.

But the BNP is in no way, shape or form the way forward.

Although they have dressed themselves up in recent years to get away from the skin heads and swastikas of their past as the National Front, they still hold the same core values. They have been caught lying about racial murders at support rallys. Nick Griffin, the party leader and public face of the BNP, has been caught calling Islam a “wicked” religion.

They are not the sorts of people you would invite to a dinner party, lets say.

But the problem is that the sentiments they feed off are present in British life. And none of the mainstream parties seem to be willing to confront them, as often if they do people jump up and down and shout “racist!” at them. This has lead to the BNP emerging as a party who not only don't care about courting controversy, but thrive under it. The amount of press attention they get is hugely disproportionate to their actual standing in the political spectrum.

Many British people, myself even at times, feel the frustrations that the BNP claims to want to solve. Simple things, like making St Georges Day a national holiday, stopping the scaling back of Christmas so as not to insult or intimidate people of other religions. At the sight of it, it is a perfectly nice set of policies. But still hidden underneath that are the policies of repatriation and stopping immigration.

In a way, the BNP are good for politics. Once again, I do not like or support them. But they ignite debate over sensitive issues. The only problem is the main parties refuse to deal with them or the issues they raise, meaning that the BNP gain ground.

Tonight, when Nick Griffin sits amongst 'real' politicians and debates, hopefully it will kick start the larger debate. The only way to stamp out the BNP is for mainstream parties to address the same issues as them. The fact that the BNP can get the votes they do on racial issues alone, issues that larger parties mainly shy away from, shows that it is a pressing issue for many.

Once again, I do not like or support them. But I can sort of see where they are coming from. I do not like, support or totally agree with them. I cannot say that enough.

As for the whole debate on whether they should even be allowed on Question Time or not, I think they should be. Like it nor not, they are a party that gets votes, has a Member of European Parliament and a person on the London Assembley (the group that governs this nation's capital). They are represented. Not letting them on is pure censorship of the free media. I would much rather live in a country that lets a party like that exist than censors them. Once again, I'm not a supporter of them by any stretch, I'm just a supporter of democracy and free speech. On the other end of the spectrum, I believe the extremist Muslim group that wants to protest in London for the immediate implementation of Sharia Law should be able to. It is their opinion. If they can voice it in a peaceful way, then go for it. Free speech.

The one repercussion, though, of having Nick Griffin on Question Time is the chance that he actually does a good job, and comes over as sane, logical and normal. The consequences of that...

Anyway. I'll sign off with what I think needs to be done to fix the frustrations and issues that the BNP feeds off of. Because I'm a glutton for punishment.

St Georges Day needs to be made a national holiday. Give everyone the day off work, hold some big events in city centres and the like. Currently, I make more of an effort to go out and have a Guinness on St Patrick's day than I do have an ale on St Georges day.

Also, at the end of the day, this country is by nature a Christian\Catholic\Church of England country. All three celebrate Christmas. Don't scale it back with 'Happy Holidays' and 'Season's Greetings' and the like, while we take the Christ out of it and call it Xmas. Let kids do their nativity play. But, by the same stretch, let kids do a Ramadan or Diwali play. Celebrate all the religions' major events. Immigration needs to be looked at, although my political knowledge is not great enough for me to interject an idea of how.

The BNP are dangerous. Hopefully tonight, though, they will do some good by sparking the debate which brings out the issues they thrive upon. This will allow the major parties to tackle them, hopefully adopt some of the more sane policies that the BNP has used to gain a foothold in British politics and, in doing so, cut their legs out from under them.

Jay Culter Cost Me Money, Logically Leading Into Poker Bad Beats

2009-10-21T01:14:00.000+01:00

According to Google Images, this large man is the Chicago Bears' emo kid QB... I call shennanigans

The Chicago Bears are currently sat very high up on a naughty chair in my opinion. Who could resist the Bears, with their speedy and wide ranging receiving corps, mean defence and great young running back at +4.5 points against the Atlanta Falcons. It isn't that I don't think the Falcons are bad or anything. Far from it. I just can't help but think the Bears are better.

Except Cutler decides to throw two interceptions, one of which was in the red zone. And then Matt Forte decides it will be a whole barrel full of laughs to fumble the ball not once, but twice on consecutive plays in the end zone. All in all, the Bears should have had 3 more touchdowns than they actually did, easily been within 4.5 points of Atlanta and they wouldn't have cost me my entire sports book balance. What is more gutting is that thanks to my own, personal rules, I can't reload it until next month. Gah!

I meant this Jay Cutler all along. I think Google Images had one of it's moments earlier...

As you can tell, I'm a bit of a sore loser when it comes to certain things. But at the end of the day, it is called gambling for a reason. I'm not an expert, I do it recreationally. I never bet on teams I support as heart clouds the judgement, and sometimes do it to add a bit of excitement to games I'm not all that otherwise interested in.

My philosophy is much the same in poker. Every poker player knows the pain and anguish of a bad beat. Whether you have the nuts pre-flop or even going into the river, only to have that one bloody card you did not want to see pop out and give the hand to someone else, it sucks. There is no other way for it. Whether you have to see yourself walking away from a tournament table or paw longingly at where your large stack at a cash table used to be, it just is not fun. But it is poker. The reason the other player as a 5% chance is because, 5 times out of every 100 that you are in that situation, it will go the other way.

This is why I absolutely have bad losers at poker. They are far more prevalent on the interweb than in real life casinos, as real life casinos tend to kick people out if they act like douche bags. They are the people who, if they get beaten from behind, go on and on about it for ages. It may be that I'm neither a semi-pro player nor someone who has aspirations of going pro. I enjoy the game. If I'm having a good run I'll play more, if I'm not I'll stop for a week or two. This is nicely summed up by my SharkScope stats, as after 230 tournaments at the site I use I'm exactly up $3.

However, some people are awful losers. Point in case, on Saturday afternoon I was watching some sport on the telly and playing poker online, a favourite combination of pastimes. I was playing a $5 single table sit and go, which means 10 players each pay $5 plus a little bit that goes to the company and the top 3 get paid winnings, with a top prize of $25. Not exactly world series of poker style, near $10m first place prize cash pools here. There was one guy who was getting very shaken at the table and I thought may be on tilt, meaning he may be making bad decisions. He had raised big pre flop and I thought it was a desperation bet, so I went all in with one of my favourite hands – an ace and a nine of the same suit. He called and had an Ace and a Jack meaning that I was absolutely dominated about 70/30. Needless to say, I hit a 9 and won the hand. He then spent the remainder of the tournament (which I won, go me!) berating me via the little chat box.

I've never got this mentality. Yes, it sucks to lose when you are ahead. It sucks to be a football team that throws away a 2-0 lead. It sucks to be an NFL team that throws away a 3 score advantage. It sucks to be a cricket team that looses a lot of wickets in quick succession. But c'est la vie. It happens. Be the bigger man, tell someone they got lucky (believe me, they will know they got lucky) and fight another day.

For the record, the worst beat I've ever seen was against my mate, and fellow soon to be Ball Soup writer, McGoo. Someone he was up against needed two 5s in a row to win a big hand. He got them. I will allow swearing in situations like that...

Never Gamble On A Sunday, Evidently It Pisses God Off And He Will Spite You

2009-10-19T01:21:00.000+01:00

You there!

Yes you, why don't you come over here. I have a proposition for you!

No, no. Don't worry, its nothing like that. Say, you look like a sports fan. Are you?

Excellent. Got a big game coming up? You do! Want to know the 100% guaranteed way for you to win? Let me bet on the opposition.

Seriously. That just about sums up my Sunday. I'm not exactly a proper, huge gambler. I mean, if I bet over £10 then it is a small miracle. I just like to add a bit of excitement to it all. I can give up any time I want to...

But consider the following. Before Jenson Button pulled off the drive of his life to win the F1 World Championship, he was due to start right at the back of the grid amongst people who would probably do their bestest to knock him off the track, while his team mate and championship rival Barichello was right up the front on pole position, in form and in a prime position to take the title to the wire. Rubens was also 10/3 this weekend to win the World Championship. Seeing as he had the upper hand on the track, it would take a series of odd events such as the entire field turning into lemmings on the first lap and a puncture to make sure that he couldn't win the title. Oh, wait....

Look, after the first half Minnesota are up 14-3 to the Ravens. Surely a spread of -13.5 is a glorious idea. This is daylight robbery. The Vikings have looked good all year. Oh, wait...

Look at those silly Oakland Raiders. What with their constantly under 50/0 quaterback rating achieving JaMarcus Russell and general awful play, surely they will not be able to stand up to the Eagles. Oh wait...

Oh well at least we have the Rookie Of The Year contender Mark Sanchez going up against a Bills team which has played like a bunch of accident prone blind chickens all year. It would take something special for them to upset the Jets. Oh wait...

Oh and Seattle, fresh off of a 41-0 rout of the Jags, must be able to upset a stuttering team in the worst division in the NFL. Surely. Oh wait....

But, I would like to say a great big thank you to Tom Brady for at least not leaving me completely out of pocket today, and managing to have the game of your life against the simply awful Titans. Thank you, Handsome Tom. You have redeemed my day.

Thank you Tom. I'll even overlook that Pee Wee Herman thing on your arm...

Although, I bet that Jay Cutler will now squander the winnings I made on you, and put on him and his Bears at +4.5. If he does, expect an angry update on Tuesday...

The 'Why South Park Is Good For The World' Theory

2009-10-15T22:27:00.000+01:00

Another theory today, children. This time as to why South Park is actually good for both comedy, and the world -

I want to worship Eric Cartman as some sort of deity. At the very least, I want to join any form of cult that he may be the leader of and am interested in receiving a newsletter written by him.

I came to this staggering conclusion after watching more South Park than ever. I remember when that show came out and it sort of revolutionised TV a bit. Before South Park, cartoons weren't for grown ups. I mean, The Simpsons has been around for 20 years now and people said that it was a cartoon for grown ups but it isn't really. It is just a sitcom that happens to be a cartoon. When South Park came out, it was aimed at the sorts of grown ups that didn't make sure they were in bed by 10pm to watch the news with a glass of warm milk like The Simpsons. It was aimed towards the sorts of adults who just got back from the bar drunk off their ass.

And it had a cult following amongst the cool kids. When South Park came out I was about 10. I became aware of it a few years later, when the cool kids in my class had borrowed the VHS tapes from their older brothers or caught it because they were (*gasp!*) allowed a TV in their room. Since then the series has continued to go from strength to strength, and so has my love for it.

The proof that South Park can be a cartoon aimed strictly at adults (well, college students and grown ups with cool jobs like graphic designers, web designers, musicians, etc.) also opened the door for people like Seth McFarlane and his troup of shows (American Dad, Family Guy, The Cleveland Show), Seth Green (Robot Chicken) and other stuff. Adult Swim would not exist without South Park.

But also, I just love the South Park philosophy on humour.

“Either everything is okay, or nothing is”

It was best summed up in the episodes where they wanted to show an image of Muhammad after the Danish cartoon which caused so much uproar. They argued that either then should be no boundries as to what they could show, or they shouldn't bother. The image was, of course, censored and of course the show carried on, but I like their theory on it. If Muslim's can demand an episode be pulled as they find it is offensive, then anyone who finds an episode offensive can have it pulled.

Same with the episode they wrote bashing Scientology. Even though it cost them Isaac Hayes as the voice of Chef, they made the completely valid point that Hayes never complained when they ripped on other religions. It is a mathematical impossibility to count the amount of anti-jew jokes that Cartman spews forth with. And Hayes had no issue with that. But when it is his beliefs, all of a sudden it isn't okay? So they let him walk.

Because of this, I worship South Park. Although, I'm wondering if I really do love the show or if I'm only writing this because I've spent all day with a South Park JTV stream on while I did other work. No, I'm sure it's my own thoughts. They must be.

*twitch*

Yes, they must be....

The Motorway Schoolroom Regression Theory

2009-10-13T19:39:00.000+01:00

I have a theory. I have countless theories, and most of them are widely discredited before they so much as pass out of my mouth. However, I think this one is a winner. I call it the Motorway Schoolroom Regression Theory. See that, I know big words. Anyway, my theory goes like this...

I'm a bit posh, so there were only ever 3 rows of chairs in the classrooms I was in. Sometimes there were even less, and in one of my A level classes there were only 3 people. Anyway, I digress already. Lets assume that the average classroom has just 3 rows of chairs. Motorways also mostly only have 3 lanes, and I think that the lane people drive in directly correlates with where they sat in school.

We all know the sort of people who sat in the front, middle and back rows. The front row sitters were the kids who we all either gave a hard time to in school, or at least didn't exactly protest when people gave them a hard time. They were the really smart kids, who at the time we gave a bit of stick to but, frankly, with the glory that is hindsight, we now wish we worked as hard as. The middle row people were the sorts of people who were, if you will excuse the absolutely horrendous pun, very middle of the road. Average students, average people and just average. They didn't want to sit up front as they would be bullied by the back row kids, but were too afraid of the back row to sit there. So they just sat in the middle.

And, as we all know, back row kids were the sorts who sharpened up their Stanley knives and spat a lot before going down the alley at break time to smoke and chat to their mate who was about 10 years older but had nothing better to do than park up his pimped out Corsa or Punto and hang around with school boys.

And as anyone who has ever dared venture onto a motorway knows, the three lanes all have their own type of driver. The inside lane is for slow people and lorries, the middle lane is for people who are just as slow as the inside lane but are too self concious to sit there and the fast lane is for twats in German cars with an over inflated sense of self importance.

If you can't see the correlation already, then I wonder how you can get out of bed without falling down.

The classroom front row sitters are the sorts who drive on the inside lane, either through needing to be there to work or not having the testosterone needed to venture forth. The middle of the roaders sit in the middle lane because, much like their school days, they are too self concious to sit in the inside lane. And the outside lane is full of the sorts of folk who gave up literal stabbing for a back stabbing boys club business mentality. They are probably estate agents or salesman, or another profession that cocks like to take up that doesn't require too much brain power.

There are of course exceptions, like any rule. Like the kids who sat up front, but grew up to be bankers and therefore developed an immediate twatishness about them and sit in the fast lane in German cars. And, of course, some of the Neanderthals who sat in the back row now probably drive lorries. Or National Express coaches, which terrorise the M4 and M40 and are the only buses who I've ever seen in the fast lane. Seriously, if you ever see one get the hell off the motorway and hide.

Anyway, that is my theory. It can even be translated as to where people sat on the school bus. Try it – I bet if you ask someone in the sales department at work where they sat then they will say in the front row, and they drive in the fast lane. I also bet if you ask your IT Department, they will say screw you and break into your PC, changing the desktop wallpaper to a photoshop of the boss. Because geeks rule.

See ya'll Thursday!

Sunday is only good for one thing...

2009-10-11T19:32:00.000+01:00

Now, the main reason that we are going with a Sunday, Tuesday & Thursday update pattern here instead of the pretty standard Monday, Wednesday & Friday is simply because I'm a huge NFL fan. The fact that Sunday is officially NFL day means that on Monday's I'm dead unto the world. So we update on Sunday's.

I'm not just an NFL fan though, I follow a few American sports such as baseball, IndyCar and NASCAR. A lot of theories have arisen as to why this is. Now, I know why I follow all these sports I have no right following. It goes back to the good old days where I used to work behind bars. Not in prison, you understand, but as in bar tending. When you ritually get home from work at 2am, there isn't a whole lot on the tellybox aside from dodgy re-runs and American sport. And at the end of the day, live sport is live sport and man code dictates it is what must be watched. JD and his ethnically sensitive doctor friends just aren't as much fun at 2am. Although, weirdly, South Park is even funnier.

However, I have also been accused of being a fake American. This is, despite being a popular theory, one I really do protest. I am proudly British, enjoy crumpets, watch cricket, drink ale and hate on the French. But the fact that I have a habit of staying up all night watching sports that most people mock, allegedly have an American fashion sense and have a body type that estate agents would describe as 'voluptuous' seems to sway popular opinion.

This is not me, even in the slightest

I think America gets a bit of a bum rap. I mean, France sticks a McDonalds into the Louvre and they get a bit of good natured ribbing about the smile on the Mona Lisa being confirmed as her eyeing up a Big Mac. If America had stuck one in, oh I don't know, the Smithsonian or at the top of the Statue of Liberty then they would have had a horrendous bashing for being 'typical Americans'.

And what is so bad being a 'Fake American'? All it means is I like steak, beer and sports? I think it's better than people I know who, despite being as white as snow and incredibly middle class, are convinced they are from the heart of a rough London estate.

'Innit blud. I was cruising round in my old man's BMW 7 Series to pick my boy, Willoughby-Toft, before we went to hit up that sick new wine bar. It was wickid man, got chatting to this proper buff blonde girl who worked for some doctor round in Walton-On-The-Lake but I was all like 'you is only some secretary, and not a doc or nursey? What is you, dumb?' KnowwhatImsaying!?'

Sadly, that wasn't much of an exaggeration... See ya'll Tuesday!

A Grand Old Welcome To All

2009-10-07T20:09:00.002+01:00

Welcome to the first ever posting for my new blog. Sit down, make yourselves at home and so on and so forth.

First and foremost, I really hate the words 'blog' and 'blogger'. Just because something is published online, it doesn't make it blog related. As my fake-Scottish friend says whenever I point out to him that he was actually born in Hammersmith and not some wee glen in the highlands, 'just because Jesus was born in a barn, it didn't make him a donkey.' I then often threaten to tell his heavily Catholic mother that he is comparing himself to the son of God, and then things deteriorate. All that aside, the point remains the same.

But anyway, I suppose I'm a great big hypocrite seeing as I called this little concoction the 'Ben Halls Blog'. And on this little site, I will post a smattering of ponderings, stories, analysis, moanings and everything in between. I will do so thrice a week, on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I do most of my writing on sports, so maybe expect a bit of emphasis on that, but frankly I can go on and on about anything. Oh and I will. I may also slip the odd serious point in if the mood takes me, but on the whole expect penis jokes. Much to my dismay, I also have a twitter feed. My aim is one follower. Please make it so. It will keep you up to date when stuff goes live in all the various places I post to.

As it's only polite, I'll tell you a little bit about me. I'm a freelance writer who occasionally does proper articles and corporate copyrighting and all of that boring old stuff. But mainly I write silly little pieces. You can find some of my regular columns over at ElevationRadio.com, where I write about the Premiership in The London Chronicles, and very, very soon I will be doing NFL and Formula One coverage over at BallSoup.co.uk. However, I still need to do some web design and the like there. If you go there now you just see some One.com propaganda. Sorry to spoil the surprise.

Anyway, that's about it. I hope you enjoy, come back, Digg stuff and favourite things and what not. I'll see you all on Sunday.