Monday, 31 December 2012

Two Years!

Well, two years together now and at last we are actually living together rather than Clare squatting at my old place, much to the amusement of my old landlord, Glen. So here’s a cheer to you! Yay!

For our second anniversary we went to the Little Bay restaurant in South Croydon and had a truly lovely time. Great food, quite reasonably priced too, with a bottle of bubbly to keep us warm against the wind and rain outside. Next time we go, which we will, we’re going to try for a Booth. They are so cute!

So, two years of loveliness, hugs, snuggles and so so much love! Here’s to 2013 and hopefully good news.

Friday, 14 December 2012

The Lovely Party

Last weekend we had Clare’s mum, sister, aunt, uncle and various randomly arriving cousins popping in for a house-warming dinner.

Cooked and served up by yours truly was a lovely stuffed rolled shoulder of pork (with a parma ham chicken breast stuffed with things also), roast potatoes, roasted veggies and a can of peas. At least that’s how I read it!!


Clare made a delicious cheesecake which was yummed up very quickly indeed! Oh boy, her cakes are amazing!!!

And nobody died. Which is a good sign the food was great.

Unfortunately, all the wine was consumed, along with some champagne also. And a big bag of crisps.

Everybody** took turns in knocking over the wine, so I reckon 2 bottles ended up on the floor.




Friday, 30 November 2012

Sunday, 25 November 2012

Give the Gift of Noodles this Christmas

Not withstanding that it is a whole week until the start of December, our local Tescos has stepped up to the plate and started to try stealing Waitrose and Harrods's clientele with the following ideal gift for all tracksuit-wearing muppets:


Yep, ideal for those connoisseurs who love the taste of noodles and monosodium glutamate – with added soy sauce – but who don’t know how long 2 minutes is.

Grab a “bargain” at Tesco

Oh yes, this is certainly one for the masses. See if you can spot the obvious lie:



Yes, Tescos have flagged up a PRICE DROP of £2.19 up to £3.18 a litre. Ho yes. Bring it on!


Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Ahh just finished work

At 2 fucking A M.

Don’t you just love working?



BTW, here’s a picture of a cat:


This is how I feel.

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

Christmas Rubbish in Early September?

Yep, it’s bloody Tesco again!


I want to know when the Easter 2013 stuff will be on… I reckon 2nd January 2013……

Buy these at Tescos!

A great bargain!


Every little helps, after all!

More illiteracy!


Damned annoying when the Ower is on holiday!

Thursday, 13 September 2012

Interwebs comes to us

At last! After waiting 6 weeks since we moved into our new lovely flat, we finally have a phone line and internet connection.

I do not have any idea why it took them so long. But it did.

And, typically, an engineer is booked for coming around tomorrow to set us up.

But we already are. A day sooner than they said. Arsebuckets.

Everything set up, all system are go!


Monday, 10 September 2012

For those….

Who had become upset at my previous posting around the Paralympics and disabled people in question.

It was supposed to provoke that reaction. I wanted you to see what happens when a certain pet type demographic (the disabled) were given all the praise etc. But compared to what they usually experience – derision, patronisation etc.

I bowed to peer pressure this time.

Monday, 27 August 2012

Fish Banks

So they say….

Give a man a fish, and he can eat for a day. Teach him to fish and you feed him for a lifetime…..

So how about this:

Give a man a gun, and he can rob a bank. Give a man a bank, and he can rob a country.

Friday, 17 August 2012

Racist Bus Woman

Oh dear.

What will happen to her I wonder?

Press outrage?

Er, no.

“You fucking white c*nts”

“I hate white people! I can’t stand none of you!”




VIdeo removed due to hate speech. Lovely. Odd that the white hate speech is still on youtube…..

Oh why do we bother??

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Cyclist Scum

Just meandering down to the doctors to drop my prescription in and I saw what so many many people encounter every day in that a cyclist ignores all the “rules of the road” and goes straight through one of the following:

  • Red light
  • Zebra Crossing
  • Small baby in a pram
  • My girlfriend
  • Pregnant woman whom the cyclist proceeds to beat up.*

It was the second on the list here. But unluckily for him, the cycling death dealer, there was a van full (well, 2 occupants) of police right behind his stupid arrogant commie arse.

They pulled him up. And when I was walking past with a big grin on my face, I heard the police person saying “No you didn’t, you are a liar, I saw you..” at him.

So, what should we do about cyclists?

They are fucking vermin, aren’t they? They clog up all the bus lanes with their lardy arse wobbling around the place like plastic spastics on elastic. No wonder the average speed in London is dropping. You can’t run the bastard vermin over!

So, I reckon what we should do is to remove all culpability for running the wankers over and killing them.


No, if we go the “let’s get them insured” business, then that adds another layer of BIG BROTHERdom to everything. If we say they have to buy a Cyclist License, then that’s more scum on the public payroll.

Best thing is to make them fair game. Run the fuckers over. If I had my way there’d be a reward! Certainly stop the bastards cycling on pavements and jumping the red lights, won’t it?



*a true story!

Monday, 30 July 2012

The Big Move!

Finally, the big move has now completed and good god I am utterly shattered.

My girlfriend and I have finally got a place together, just 5 minutes walk up the road from where we were staying before, in a little double room with a shared kitchen and bathroom.

So lovely to have our own place: a 2 big double bedroom flat, with very modern kitchen, big bathroom and very large lounge and dining area. And the storage is wonderful!

Being built in the 1960s, it doesn’t suffer from the claustrophobic modern disease at all. Plenty of everything.

And it is fully furnished too!

The move itself began at 9am on Saturday with the signing of the contract (which I had to pay 100% for because somebody forgot her purse… lol), followed by the picking up of the van.

What happened next way 7 hours of sheer hell, with the moving of what appeared to be dozens of boxes full of heavy lead-lined shoes and breezeblocks. And that was just Clare’s house.

Then that lot was dumped rather unceremoniously at the new place, and then a panicked run around to my old place, which is on the 2nd floor, to pick up my stuff which also appeared to consist of dozens of boxes full of heavy lead-lined shoes and breezeblocks.

And we didn’t manage to finish it all and return the van by 5pm, so had to rent it for Sunday as well. At least it wasn’t quite as mental, as only 1 trip to our old abodes each, and then an expensive trip to Tescos to go buy the necessities.

Tonight, however, everything is put away, the PC back up and connected to teh interwebs courtesy of a dongle for the time being; beds all dressed; lovely home-made dinner waiting for me when I got in around 19:40.

Ahh bliss!

Thursday, 19 July 2012

Olympics : A Complete Farce

I mean, you just cannot make this stuff up:





To be honest, you can’t really blame the Unions really. I mean, they have London over a proverbial 2012 Gold-plated barrel and are busy rubbing Vaseline all over their cocks….

But you have to wonder exactly what the visitors will think, assuming they actually get into the country!

  • Immense queues and immigration, with 1 desk open and staffed by a blind spastic with a severe hatred of foreigners, and work.
  • Crippled transportation links, with strikes and signal failures galore. Bus drivers who don’t know where they are going, and Zil lanes stopping the traffic moving.
  • Death and disorder with the police, ambulance and fire services unable to get anywhere because of the ZIl lanes.
  • Non English-speaking security guards provided by G4S, the people who are favourites to have police outsourcing contracts awarded to them from the ever impartial Tom Fucking Watson.
  • Not being able to buy anything on-site with anything other than a bloody Visa card.
  • And don’t forget chips.
  • Constant pissing rain.

Is this what you and I are going to have to pay tens of billions of pounds for?

It’s a national fucking disgrace!!!!!

Sunday, 15 July 2012

Olympics : I am speechless!


****sound of no words****

Thursday, 12 July 2012

Olympics : Death Guaranteed!

According to sources in the know, these wonderful Zill lanes (or Olympic Lanes as we have to call them) are for Olympic Athletes, Officials and Sponsors only.


NOBODY else can use them.

And that includes the Emergency Services, who will now need to queue up with the rest of us monkeys in the other available lane.

Let’s hope there aren’t too many deaths caused by ambulances and police cars being tied up behind buses and pizza delivery vans then.

Olympics : Utterly Shite

The latest balls up with the wonderful and monumental waste of money that is the London 2012 Olympics is the chaos around security.


According to the Telegraph, Group 4 Security, the muppets who were awarded the contract to put thugs in bright yellow jackets and remove people’s illegal water, snacks and so-on, can’t fill the roles.

Oh and we didn’t see that fuck up coming, did we? No.

Ok, so here’s what we do to them. Get the army in. And deduct 1.5x the cost of the soldiers from the G4S contract payments. If it ends up they pay in the end, then so be it. HOWEVER, I seriously doubt there are any robust penalty clauses in the contract.

Saturday, 7 July 2012

Sunday Dinner–Reserved and Paid For

I am treating my gorgeous Clar Ni Broin to a dinner tomorrow at the wonderful Taste of Cyprus restaurant in Elmer’s End.

It is a wonderful place to take your loved ones.

It gets 10/10 from both of us.

Even my lovely girls would like it, if I ever get the opportunity to take them here……. which I will. GB.

Friday, 6 July 2012

Lazy Teachers – Useless Cretins

Well, with the so-called Government now embarking on a horrendous test to see how well our 11 year olds grasp the FUNDAMENTAL points of the English language, looks like the teachers are all now up in arms because their pathetic crappy teaching is now going to be shown to be the sham that it is:


Yes, it’s really an attack on teachers, isn’t it? They are supposed to be teaching our children how to read and write; how to properly construct sentences; how to spell words correctly. Oh no. What a fucking shocker that is.

Teachers are the most underpaid and overworked members of the public service. They spend 18 hours a day marking, setting lesson plans, etc.

Yes, of course they fucking do.

They do absolutely fuck all.

Try telling that to my girlfriend, who today is working 3pm to 3am. That’s work that is. Not talking Marxist shite in the coffee room for 2 hours.

Teachers can’t teach because they themselves haven’t been taught. It’s the cumulative 20 or 30 years of leftie wank that has lead us to where we are today. Where children leave secondary school at the age of 16 and can’t even get a job in a shop without having to undergo remedial training by their employers.

Fucking hell.

If testing children to see if their teachers have done their job is “an attack on teachers” then please give me a baseball bat with nails in it. These useless sacks of meat need to be taught a lesson.

Something that they have not done themselves.

Tennis Elbow


He’s British now, because he’s not lost, but if he loses in the final then he’ll just be a sad Scot.


Ah. So the sad Scot loses again.

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Tax Avoidance – So what?

So, a certain Mr Carr has been “caught” “avoiding” tax, has he? Well, there’s absolutely NOTHING ILLEGAL about that at all. If you’ve got an ISA then YOU are avoiding tax. Got a season ticket loan? Then YOU are avoiding tax.

So shut up. Seriously, just shut up!!!

And anyway, why the hell would you actually want to pay tax? Have you seen what the wonderful government is doing with all YOUR hard earned money? Exactly.

Ok, you are a mental leftie. “Paying tax is a good idea as it helps injured badgers and lesbian rapists” you say. So, are you going to send HMRC a cheque for another £5,000 out of your already taxed income? (Assuming you actually have a job, that is). No? Why? Are you a racist hate-monger or something? If paying tax is good, why not work for nothing and pay 100% tax? Surely that is the best place to be, yes? Oh, I see. You are a twat. Sorry, didn’t see _that_ one coming, did I?

I am paying more tax than my girlfriend earns in a year before tax. I mean. God almighty.

I’d love to pay fuck all tax. Seriously. All the government does with it is to pay sponging lazy bastards, give to India so they can paint their own spaceships a different shade of orange or something, or give to asylum seekers so they can get a new council house and plot to blow up you and me. Oh, and don’t forget the teenage girls who pop one out just to get a house.

What gives these chavs the “right” to be housed at my expense?

Have you seen them?



(That’s two houses you are paying for… plus alcopop and fag allowances….)


Such a wonderful product of the “education” system that I’m funding. Most of them couldn’t even write their own names in crayon by the time they leave school. Unless, of course, their name was “X”.

And the government wants 50%+ of them to go to university? WTF is all this about? Going to university to study Nail Technology or Vajazzling? Eh? And in the name of “equality” there’s now Pejazzling also.

I think they all need a serious bit of kicking them up the arse.

I’m having to scrimp and save like mental to get the rent money – and more so since Clare and I have found a lovely flat just up the road to move into at some time in the next month or so.

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Another Eventful Time


It is I.

There is something moving around and it ain’t us!

And that’s just Aliens or something like that.

And according to Mother, I now have T minus 38 days to reach minimum safe distance. Give or take.

Things will become less deranged closer to the event. Just remember: stay indoors!

Euro 2012 Tattooed Mongs

What is it about footballers and grossly obscene tattoos? Are they really that uncouth? Obviously you aren’t going to get a person with >100 IQ as a footballer (apart from Roy Keane, obviously) but I mean. Come on.

God alone knows what their wives look like.

Maybe John Terry can tell us…?


P.S. And stop spitting everywhere. For God’s sake!

Sunday, 10 June 2012

Or how about sacking the bastards?


How many people would be happy to get a job? Driving a bus? Hah.

For these scummy wankers, sack the lot of them.

Let’s see how many would re-apply for their own jobs with a much reduced salary and no fucking £500 bonus for just turning up for their jobs.


Sunday, 3 June 2012

Possible Woo and Yay!

Clare and I are going to view a property on Wednesday. A one bedroom place in South Croydon. 5 min from the station. Saw it yesterday informally, as it is still being renovated… Surprised smile Quiet, and with a nice front garden to soak up the sun.

Seeing it at 7pm on Wednesday.

Fingers crossed, eh?

Big hugs!

Wednesday, 30 May 2012


Lyrics make me a little emotional. Listen, read and understand….

What I have is nothing to my name
No property to speak of
And no trophy for my game
Intangible and worthless
My assets on the page
My coffers are empty
Any offer of safety has faded away
But what I have
What I have is

On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You take what I can give and you treasure it
On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You turn to me and say, I believe in this

That makes me lucky
God, I'm lucky, so much luckier than I ever thought I'd be
'Cause what I have (what I have)
Means so very little to this world
A promise that I kept and a bridge that I saved before it burned
The sacrifice that I made
Brought me to my knees
A choice that cost me everything and set somebody else free
But what I have
Is the value that you see in these things

On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You take what I can give and you treasure it
On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You turn to me and say, I believe in this

And every time I forget those things you bring them right back to me

With your patience
When I'm blinding mad
And your passion
When I'm really, really bad
And your eyes
Taking in everything I am
And your body and soul and the way that you know
How I treasure you

On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You take what I can give and you treasure it
On an ordinary day
The extraordinary way
You turn to me and say, I believe in this

Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Ireland Votes… again


Easy choice.

Vote “Yes” and march towards serfdom and foreign rule.

Vote “No” and be free.


What’s difficult about that?

Sunday, 27 May 2012

A happy bunny….


Oh yes.

More Odd Sayings : Girlfriend Edition!

Yes, and no I was not snoring.

But she said, and I quote, “If you don’t stop snoring then I’m going to have to stab you….”

Then I woke up and said “No, don’t stab me. I’m not snoring”

“So, you snore when you are awake then?”

Which, obviously, I don’t do either.

Women, never will understand them…..

Sunday, 13 May 2012

Extraordinary Way…

A lovely trance track for my Clar Ni Broin….


Lovely stuff!

And very lovely ladies too…. but they only give a slight hint at my Clare’s true beauty. That which I am the only one to behold.

Their makeup reminds me of what Clare wears. She looks fantastic, ever so sexy and voluptuous. All the time.

I am the most lucky person ever to have somebody like Clare to love me as I love her. She is the first thing I think of when I sleep, and the first thing I think of when I awake in the morning.

Clare, I love you.

Always. And forever.

And the day after that too.

Saturday, 12 May 2012

Something from the 90s…

Something I used to love, from 808 State:

The Beauty Has Come.

Just like my gorgeously wonderful Clare…….

Sad Blog Post

Oh how sad is this:

Just been to my local Sainsbury’s Local store and picked up 12 Bernard Mathews Chicken Escalopes for a fiver.

Bloody bargain that is.

So, guess what I’m eating next week!!!?????

Saturday, 5 May 2012

London Votes…

And guess what the ballot box looked like?


Yep, the bin.

Quite apt, really.

At least the loathsome Ken didn’t get in.

Thursday, 3 May 2012

Clar ni Broin…

Every time I close my eyes… I see your face.

Going to be lonely for a while. Your night shifts are bad.

Hugs on Friday and Saturday night before you go to work.

And Sunday and Monday together again…..


Love you, my beautiful Irish rose. More than words can say. Holding you is like holding heaven….

Ireland FU Referendum

Have a look at these things, before you vote:

Doesn’t answer the question

And a rather interesting bit of threatening parody:


Vote yes or we fuck you up your arse, you simple fools!

How much contempt can you take before you say NO. And tell these scumbags to go fuck themselves? Seriously?

Please, Ireland. Please please vote NO.

Thursday, 26 April 2012

Teh Interwebs are sick

I mean:


All time stats on my blog. What’s number 1? Yes, the Woman does Poo in Supermarket. Ever so slightly.

You sick fucks!

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Bloody lodger!

My fellow lodger over here in the sunny borough of CroyDon is such a lazy git. She’s a teacher, so I suppose I can’t expect anything else.

Here’s the beef:

I see she leaves some dirty plates and cutlery in the sink. I wash hers up. I buy the washing up liquid. (And the loo rolls, but let’s not get started on that bit – yet…)

I come home tonight to see my single small plastic carton and lid sitting in the sink from last night’s casserole reheat-fest. The draining board is full of her stuff.


Come on, girl. You’ve seen me wash your stuff. Put your stuff away. And you don’t do mine?

And, of course, there’s the small matter of the big sign saying “Please do your washing up – it’s not nice to see things in the morning” Jesus wept. I might leave a single plate, or something like that, overnight.

And I get this!

So, from now on I am not going to clean your crap up.

Sooner you bog off to Spain the better!

Buy your own bloody washing up liquid AND your own bloody loo roll.

She seems to spend hours in the toilet. And she eats the loo roll. So fuck you.

Monday, 23 April 2012

Dreaming of my Clar Ni Broin

Love for Clare.



And, love.






Clare, I am yours forever. Just wish we could be together more. Even for an hour or so. Your shifts are so bad. But, I will always wait for you…….

Happy St George’s Day

Not that you’d bloody notice of course. It’s the commie’s determination to destroy the cultural identify of this country.

Am I just being mad and bonkers?


Just look around you.

Are you going mad?

Is everybody else?

And what are you going to do about it?

Sunday, 22 April 2012


Two of the most wonderful singers I have ever heard, together.

Sharon den Adel and Anneke van Giersbergen

Mental People!

What is it with me?

Not only do I get propositioned in the loos at a night club in Stockwell, now I’m being frottaged on the train from Vauxhall to Clapham Junction at 0716 in the morning!!!! On a bloody Sunday!

A mental person (obviously a clubber as he was rather worse for wear and smelled rather of beers and that smoky thing I sniffed at East Croydon....) decided I was his bestest mate.

Kept saying “Awesome venue!” on the train at Vauxhall and rubbing his knees against me!!!!! Hoped to avoid him, but he got off at Clapham (platform 4) and walked very close to me all the way to platform 15 (I was varying my speed....) where he said “Oh, aren’t you coming with me to the exit?” I said “Er, no. I am going to CroyDon” and he said “You sure you don’t want to come with me and have fun?”

I said “No, I’ve got a girlfriend and everything.”

He replied “Ok, take care mate!” and tried to hug me!!!!! So I just shook his hand and said “Laters, man” and he seemed happy with that and went wandering off. I might have got lucky there!

Er. Hmm.

But I already am the luckiest man on the planet. Ever been on the planet. Oh yes. For I have my Clar Ni Broin! All snuggly and cuddly!

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Internets Nutters!

According to’s stats things, some weirdo viewed my site by searching for “diabetes boobies fucking”. Er. I mean. Um. WHY???


Food With Friend’s

In Brighton on a very rainy and windy Bank Holiday Monday and we were searching for somewhere warm to sit. Decided to go into a sort of funky left-wing organic coffee shop for an afternoon tea:


Looks like they sort of tried to erase the apostrophe on “tea’s” but probably left it because they weren’t sure.


And when do you actually BAKE tea? I use a kettle. That’s probably why I can rustle up a nice cup of tea in 2 minutes for less than 5p, and theirs cost £4.99!!!!

So, a vegan cafe.

I wanted bacon.

Did they offer it?

Did they bugger!

It’s always the same with these people isn’t it? They come over to you for dinner and YOU are expected to cook something vegetarian or vegan or some other stupid thing, as well as meat ahoy for yourselves, but go round to theirs for dinner and do THEY cook up a rack of ribs or a nice leg of lamb for YOU? Ha, do they fuck.

So next time any veganist comes around mine they’ll get what I’m cooking. MEAT. Don’t like it, well go drink some tea’s with bacon in it!

Waterstone’s Illiteracy

Oh my god. What store or bunch of people do you think would be expected to be able to spell the word AUTHOR correctly?

Difficult question, isn't it? How about a BOOK STORE?

Well, not the one in the Croydon Whitgift centre, that’s for sure. I’m sure the AUTHOR coming along to sign his book wouldn’t be overly impressed:


I’m sure Boris is turning in his grave!

Saturday, 7 April 2012

Teachers on Strike (again)

Oh well, and this from The Telegraph:


And, not wanting to be pedantic, but that really should have an apostrophe in the word “teachers” shouldn’t it, Mr Telegraph?

Teachers, eh? Lazy sponging Common Purpose nob-heads, the lot of them.

And why does this “Chris Keates” look so so angry and full of hate? Or maybe she’s just constipated and desperately needing a poo?

Go on, strike. Nobody will notice anyway. Won’t have any effect on the children’s education at all – you don’t currently teach them anything worth knowing anyway.


Friday, 6 April 2012

Big pile of shifts

God damn! My lovely Clare is now working 3pm – 11pm until Easter day. So no eggs for her. At least we can spend Easter Monday together without having to get our carcasses out of bed! I fancy a BIIIIG bacon fry-up on the Monday!

With more bacon.


I really hate her shifts.

A Message To The Past..

I took my blog temporarily down yesterday after having a long conversation with my (soon to be) ex-wife. She was upset at some of the language I used, and at some of the posts I’ve put up.

I have amended a couple of postings from last year.

And I would like to state, on, and for, the record:

  • I was never really a good dad. I thought I was, but I wasn’t. I had issues and problems, mainly around how much I was drinking, working late and how much time I spent with my girls. I am doing my best now.
  • I tried to guide her, but obviously came across as being a bully and a control freak.
  • I am honestly sorry for everything – we should have split a long time ago and not tried to carry on like we could fix something that was so monumentally broken.
  • I have always tried my best to support my loved ones.
  • I did things that although I don’t recall, have resulted in pain.

My STBX wife and I had many issues which went for a long time unresolved. We both had some bad instances. We both have done very bad things. However, they no longer matter as we are both in a much better life now.

Things have now changed and we are both free of our past life and of each other. I am with Clar ni Broin. She is with Simon. We are both very happy with our new lives.

So what is the point digging at each other anymore? I don’t see there is one.

I hold nothing against her. I wish her all the best, all the love that she certainly deserves, and needs. T, I will still be your friend if you will have me.

To the World:

  • I love my girls and want nothing but the best future for them, with love, excitement, for them to achieve what they can, with all our support.
  • Am so proud of you in the Gang Show this year.


  • I want them to meet my Clar ni Broin sooner rather than later. Clar is the most wonderful woman I have ever met. So loving, so kind, so gentle, so accepting, so smiley and so so so much in love with me. _I_ am the happiest man that has ever lived, truly.

For everything that has happened, let us learn from the mistakes. Clare and I are so much in love, it is incredible, We plan a wonderful life together.

A couple of my tunes, just to raise up your spirits:

A lovely second one….

Tuesday, 3 April 2012


What would Michael Collins be doing now if he could see how his sacrifices have led to Ireland having swapped British Imperial Rule for a brief piece of independence and now to being ruled by an iron fist by the EUssr……

06.Dec.1922 to 01.Jan.1973

Died in its 50s.

Cause of death: Political Apathy.

Question: Did you really want it? Independence that is. Doesn't look like it…

Question: Who is your master now? It’s not you, is it?

Question: If you say “No”, how many times will you say this before you are giving the “right” answer to your new masters.

BIG QUESTION: What are you going to do about it?


Well, the budget has come and gone again and we are all shafted yet again. Oh what a surprise that was.

I really do wonder exactly how much more we can put up with before we all rise up and do a Greek (or Spanish or, looming, a Portuguese)?

Bloody politicians.

Where is my piano wire??????

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Music, eh?

Oh there’s so much to choose from. But I have chosen. Oh yes. Now, only the slightly easy task of persuasion now:

1)  Cascada

2) Tori Amos

3) Dougal & Gammer

4) MIchael Woods

5) BBC Symphonic Orchestra On Crack – Playing “Wowowoutdshglsdhgoiywetoy and shithityhwoureoweyuytu fuck arse!!!!” in e-minor.

Thursday, 22 March 2012

OMG–Pee Issues!

Very early this morning when I usually get up to have the usual ablutions, shower and dressing etc, my lovely French compatriot decided to spend a whole fecking hour in the bathroom. Probably with some sort of hedge-trimmer.

And I really needed a wee.

Really. I did.


I ran downstairs to my landlord’s bathroom. Oh noes! He’s having a poo!

Effing hell!

So run back upstairs and decide to grab my trusty pint glass and relieve myself.


BUT OH NOES! Too much now! OMG!

Let’s just say I had to be very slow and careful carrying the glass.

And then there was the Tram…..



I give up.

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Vote For Ken!!!

Er, no.

Unless you want even more halal chicken shops and barbers open until 3am.

"I will make London a beacon of islam"

From the tax-dodging hypocrite supreme.

Oh and lower fares on London Transport? Er, I think the facts speak for themselves.

Anybody voting for Ken is a fool. I pity the fool.



So, who then to vote for?

Brian Paddick? No, he’s a Lib Dem so will want to Climate Change Your Ass as well as instigating compulsory anal sex, while dressed as a Metropolitan Police officer!

Jenny Jones? Green? Er, enough said. A bit like Paddick but with less forced anal sex. But more windmills and tofu.

Carlos Cortiglia – BNP. Good British name there for the Uruguay dude. Er, no. BNP = wankbiscuits.

Lawrence Webb – UKIP. Decent chappy. No chance of winning though.

Boris Johnson – Tories. Mental hair. Current incumbent. Bit of a mental tosser. But he’s not as bad as the fuckwit Ken. I honestly think nobody could be – well, perhaps the Yogic Flying nutters.

Talking of which: Ken Livingstone – Labour. Fucking hell. No way. Complete hypocrite, anti-semitic mental wanker. Oh a liar too. Tax dodger and newt fucker (poor things split before he even gets the jollies on!). You want a man who fucks newts up the arse to control your tube? (no doubt he’ll be very keen to see lots of anal sex for small animals and pre-pubescent children) He’s so far up the unions arse that he can see out of their collective and deluded arse.

So, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this bunch of useless twats? I think I’ll write the following letters in my ballot : “WANKS!” or something like that.

Right, that’s enough libel for tonight.

Vote carefully people! It matters!*




*not a fuck, because we are all doomed and ruled by the EUssr anyway.

St Patrick’s Day “Tazering”

Went along to what is called “The Quays” on Saturday night with my wonderful girlfriend Clare, and her sister and some friends.

This is me:


I happen to be wearing flashing Irish bunny ears for some reason. And that’s a pint of beer of some description. Not sure what time this was – possibly around 11 ish. The place was rammed something stupid. You could hardly move your eyebrows without bumping into some mad person in a green shirt. Lots of hands shaken after saying I was from Glasgow, which is nice. Pity Ireland lost against England at the rugby. But, on the bright side, Clare looked ever so sexy in her Ireland top. Mmmmm!

Anyway, I quite enjoyed the tazering (that’s what I call what purports to be dancing). The two live bands were excellent. Clare is the most amazing dancer you have ever seen. She is _so_ good! I’m not understating this: she is FUCKING AMAZING!!! She’s got style, the moves, the lyrics, the action and my ever-lasting love for being such, well, lovely and snuggly and wonderful!

After exciting taxi ride home (where one of the occupants was in desperate need of a pee) from Archway down to Norbury then onto Addiscombe, ended up collapsing in bed around 2am. A little earlier than expected.

Sunday, 18 March 2012


In 1981 I was quite a good and keen swimmer. Represented my school at the back-stroke. However, having just been getting over the flu, I was only able to do a miserable 16 lengths….


What a moustache! He must’ve been from Donegal! Anyway, I recall him doing a whole 25m length in about 6 breast-strokes. Awesome!

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Holidays in School Time

So the commie Michael Grove is now trying to further his top-down governance model on schools by inforcing a “NO HOLIDAYS DURING TERM TIME” edict.


Ok, I suppose if you believe that TEACHERS actually TEACH and don’t INDONTRONATE. Which is incredulous!  Teachers actually teaching? FFS. Don’t make me laugh!

So, Grove. You fuck off sharpish, like.

Read some of James Higham’s stuff on education. Very interesting!

TEACHERS are scum. Hang them. Hang them all!

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Emma West : The Trial

Well, from following the original Croydon Tram video of her spouting off some obnoxious bollocks against people who are completely innocent, she’s been hauled in front of the so-called magistrates to beg for her wossnames. Good luck with that babe.

From me, I was shocked and horrified what she did in front of her little child, never mind what she was saying. Tiger-Tiger anybody?

Never actually having visiting New Addington, I get the idea it isn’t the wondrous multcult society. But also having seen what the daft cow has spouted on about I can’t see how she can say it “never happened”. Er. Yes it fucking has. Have you seen yourself on youtube? Daft bag!


Plus, as an avid tramfan what the fuck is that pic? Colours all wrong. SPECIAL? Mong more like. Gits. And it’s not even East Croydon either! FFS!

(Maybe I should lie down in a dark place…..)

Anyway, back to the topic….

Rant away, you horrid person

Quite frankly I can’t see what the hell is the problem…. On the one hand we have one woman spouting shite. And, er. Well that’s it.

On THURSDAY, I had two white women giving each other some gip on the train coming into East Croydon. “Don’t talk to me like a child”, “Don’t fucking act like one then, bitch!” followed by a few minutes later by “Would Inspector Sands go to platform 3….” Of course, that’s not a CRIME nowadays, as it’s not favouring one of the pet classes.

I’m sure this Emma person has some issues, with the uncontrolled immigration in this country, however as being a Brit, and all that, there are certain ways of going about things. What she did was inexcusable. Especially in front of her child.

However, I do not think dragging her in front of the media like this will solve anything.

The Mail are pumping up support for the BNP, which I do not like at all, but wouldn’t stop their access to the media.

For me, I want to know all the facts, all the truth (not necessarily the same!). BBC? Fuck you, you commies.

Monday, 13 February 2012

Abu Qatada



Here’s yet another reason why you shouldn’t vote for the poncey-haired commie twat Boris Johnson in the upcoming elections. The guy has his head so shoved far up his anus that he’s sucking his own tongue, from below.

Here’s what we should do with this piece of shit (Qatada, not Johnson, although….):

  • Shoot the fucker in the face with an exploding face-harpoon.

Problem solved.

No way I’m paying tax to support this piece of shit.

And the CommieGraph doesn’t tell you WHY he’s not kicked out. It’s all to do with the COMMIE judges and the insanely anti-Christian judges who are so left they make Stalin look like, well, Stalin.

So here’s what we do:

  • Shoot the fucker (give him the option to fuck off somewhere else – he can pay his fare)
  • Shoot all the fuckers (give them option to fuck off somewhere else – likewise)
  • No benefits whatsoever to scummy foreign types who have not paid tax.
  • To be fair, no benefits to home-grown spongers who have not paid tax.
  • Previous abode in the EU and trying to claim asylum? Fuck you. Here’s a bullet to your ugly face, you beardy wanker!
  • Judge this, you leftie wankbaskets. Die, and horribly so!

I pay £20k+ a year in tax. Plus my ex gets equivalent of £26k untaxed benefits from me (which are post tax), plus benefits (like no council tax). And she says she is poor. Jesus Christ in a chicken basket!

I’m not paying it for these c*nts. And if you support them, then you deserve MY judgement too!


I am so fucking angry!!!!!!

Thursday, 9 February 2012

Yay! Diabetic Tits!

You a bloke? Ever wanted to have a lovely set of man jubblies? Well, just inject your insulin straight into your nipples and within a mere 30 years you will be able to go around fondling yourself like a sex-maniac!


Sorry, again, for yet another Daily Mail exclusive, but this is so funny.

Not only has the bloke developed man boobs but he’s such a twat that they are so low down that they look like granny bags now. FFS. I bet he wishes he’d stuck the needle into his chest these years. And, more is to the point, why the fuck didn’t he notice earlier? If I started developing man boobs I’d have stopped and thought “Er, is this normal”? I wouldn’t have kept on at it.

So, let’s all just point and laugh at the sad bastard.



Personally, I think the Daily Mail has been taken in yet again for another scam

Tattooed Wenches



Some horrid slag called Natasha Giggs (ooh! Is she the one shagging around? Oh yes, of course she is) has a very ugly piece of so-called artwork burned into her back.


And the Daily Mail (who are so prim and proper, like) are making this out to be interesting things.

Tattoos are ugly pieces of shit.

‘nuff said.

Moah Quantitative Easing

You know the QE? Easing it out like doing a lovely relaxing poo that just plops out without leaving any 14 sheets of loo roll to wipe off your buthole?

Unlike the Quantitative Bastard which is like pooing out lego bricks wrapped in razors. Those are not nice. Takes 2 loo rolls in their entirety to sort out all the mess, and then the damned bog doesn’t flush and you have to run away and pretend it wasn’t you?

Here’s something to ponder:


I don’t really like Twitter but this dude, whoever he happens to be, is right on the money.

Sunday, 5 February 2012

We can have it all…..

Oh god.

We can.

Even though you are asleep recovering from a night-shift, we can have it all.

Bodies together.



That’s all we need. And we have it all.


Clar Ni Broin, Cailean Mór <3 you, my darling.

Chicken Shop Stabbing: WTF?


Ok, so Thornton Heath and Norbury are renowned for the density of chicken shops. Geez. In fact Norbury has so many chicken shops per square meter that it is now officially known as a SI unit. Anything more that 8.5 Norburies is infinitely chicken-shop dense and causes a singularity of chicken. This sucks in all chicken eating anthropods from the event horizon of 800m away and crushes them into an infinitely small amounts of what scientists call KFCisms.

Anyhows, going through both places on the bus is like taking a guided tour of KFC (with renames, like Croydon Fried Chicken, Dallas Fried Chicken, Chicken Basket, Chicken Chicken Chicken and, of course the famous Chicken Poultry Fried Objects) World.

Fuck me.

So why are people trying to kill each other in a deep-fried chicken pieces places?

Now I’ve been past these places after midnight when they are full to the rafters with hungry chicken eaters. That and those barbers shops. WTF? Are any other areas of the country that are not being severely islamisized like this? Just me? Oh.

I remember going to the chippie to get a sausage supper. They closed around 10pm. After that you needed to go down to the chinky, as we called it (it was the early 80s, after all, before all this politically correct common purpose bullship commie wank). Chips and gravy. Eurgh. But the best thing was that the chippie had a space invaders arcade machine! Yay! Woo! Etc!

A sad state of affairs indeed if one cannot partake in the consumption of deep-fried chicken pieces without getting stabbed in the tits.

Friday, 3 February 2012

How to deal with Pirates

The Russians have it completely right. Utterly!

The video tape shows Russian Navy commandos on a Somalian pirate ship shortly after the pirates had captured a Russian oil tanker. The European Union navy that patrols these waters would not interfere because they feared there could be casualties.

So the Russian Navy Commandos freed their compatriots and the tanker … and then moved the pirates back to their own pirate ship, the Russians searched the pirate ship for weapons and explosives … and found plenty!

Then they left the ship and exploded it with all remaining pirates hand-cuffed to it [no need for] any court proceedings, lawyers, etc. They used the anti-piracy laws of the 18th and 19th centuries where the captain of the rescuing ship has the right to decide what to do with pirates. Usually, they were hanged.

Care of Orphans of Liberty

What would happen over here? Yes, they’d either get released or get a council house.

Russia : WIN

Pirates: NUBS



(Mr Angry, yesterday)

Ever get the feeling you should really have double-double checked what you were about to send?

Yes, that’s me.

Just sent something fairly innocent to my ex by text which was destined for my girlfriend.

I am. Beaker.

Lucky it wasn’t something more passionate.

Poor Clare on night shifts….. now I won’t see her until Sunday evening.

Is that better than her earlies, when I end up at work at 7am? Um.

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Birthing! Anally!

Only the Daily Mash can do this:


O2 = phishing extravaganza

Courtesy from Bitter Wallet comes the news that if you have a phone running on the O2 network, such as Giff Gaff or, er, O2, and you visit a website (or indeed open an email) via your phone, O2 helpfully gives YOUR PHONE NUMBER to the people you are visiting.

Nice, isn’t it?

If you are browsing this on a phone, check this link to see your number displayed.

Now you have to be wary of phone calls from phishers.

Oh lovely.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Capped Benefits

So, the lazy, feckless, baby-popping Jeremy Kyle fans are getting worried now. Their benefits (that are being paid for by those of us in work) are going to be capped at £26,000 a year.

Oh woe is fucking me. Seriously.

I started work in 1992 and earned £12,500 to start with.

And these bastards expect me, and you, my loyal reader, to cough up all the money to them to keep them in popcorn, big tellies and fags? Obviously no condoms, because they get extra cash for each unwanted feral offspring they pop out. Now that’d be interfering with their right to breed like rats.

“Oh but we need to keep little Chardonnie and Thyleeza in their local school, otherwise they might get a bad education and not achieve in life”, they say.

Well, they probably said “Wha? Fackin’ cahnt! Whars me fags, innit?” but I think we get the point.

And why are they living in places that a normal person who is WORKING can’t afford?

What I say is “Fuck you!” to them and their tribes of tracksuit-wearing thieves. Pay them zero. Get your lazy arse to work. Whore yourself if you need to.

THERE IS NO MONEY LEFT, so get a fucking job.

Old Holborn has some erudite comments.

Titter–Time for some more Boobies!

Well, following on from my breast post, and some would say I am taking too keen an interest in all things breast-related, I must say that I am in awe, yes awe, at the breast implant professional association.

Oh yes.

What are they called again?

Ah yes, the British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons.



Oh, I do like nice baps.


Mmm, floury!



Well, of course you don’t want gingers wandering around the school, frightening all the other normal children, do you?

Put the animal back in the cage, I say!

They bite, you know!

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Cowardly Ship Captain?

Well, we all are to certain parts, aren’t we? If our life capsizes what do we do? Rush for the lifeboats, leaving our dependents on the ship, or do we stay with our ship which is sinking?

Is there a medium?


For me, my lifeboat was my girlfriend who didn’t judge and who loves me on who I am now and who I will become. I was welcomed onto her lifeboat without any preconceptions, without any history. This, I have welcomed with outreached arms; in love; in pure happiness.

For years I never knew what I could do; what I should do; what I was; or what I could be…. All I knew is that I was so full of love and had nowhere to give it to. I knew that was the same for so many years – maybe I didn’t want to admit it. But….

Then I found my Clare. She can take all I want to give her, and she gives back just as much, if not more. Much more.

I have found two things:

  • love; and
  • trust.

I never thought I would find those.

Monday, 9 January 2012

Breasts on The NHS

So, how do you feel about having to stump up your cash to bail out some vain women who have had silicone implants which have gone, so sorry, tits up?

Well, me, if you are rich enough to afford fake boobs (which look horrible if you ask me) with the corresponding scars, nipples that have been cut off and re-stitched somewhere else (forehead?) etc, then you can bloody well pay for them to be fixed yourself.

You didn’t qualify to get them done on the NHS so it’s your bloody bad luck you went with Dave’s Fantastic Tits – Cheap at Half The Price, isn’t it?

Why should the taxpayer pick up the bill? All these talks of “cuts” (of which there aren’t any… – seen the debt clock recently?), do you really want to pay for vacuous bimbos to have their boobs mended over the poor orphans, hungry pensioners and one-legged lesbian basketball enthusiasts? Well?

And for the rest of the plastic surgery nightmares…. pick up the fixme tab yourself, you sad people:


Truly Pathetic: Camer-mong and Co


How crass, embarrassing and downright third world is that?

I mean, come on.

Our so-called Leaders (which they aren’t, as they just rubber stamp what vomits from the EUSSR while stealing as much stuff on expenses as possible), sitting around looking like the gormless chimps that they are.

I mean.


Saturday, 7 January 2012

Ca-moron, Clegg and the rest

Well, they are a bunch of twonks, aren’t they? Cameron, with his non-existent veto of something he couldn’t have had a veto over because there was nothing to veto. And in the fabulous house of commons he never used the word veto, did he? No, because by doing so would be a lie. And they don’t like that.

Duck house?

So, in the words of the famous Clar Ni Broin, celebrated philosopher, tall girl and very beautiful, I need to vote for somebody. Or was that John? Er. I think it was John. Anyway, what’s the point of voting for somebody who is the least bad alternative? I’d rather staple my balls to a diving board.

This country is so disenfranchised it is unbelievable. Of course the politicians don’t care as long as some bunch or saps vote them in so they can claim for duck houses, moats, sister’s bedroom or vomitarium.

If I don’t see anybody worth voting for on the ballot paper, I will write a rude word in the spaces available.


Damned lies–and statistics

Well, according to google stats things, the most visited post is related to A Woman Doing A Poo In A Supermarket.

Fuck me.

410 views in the last few days. Out of my grand total of 7700 since I started.

So, I have decided that all of my next 20 posts will be to do with either WOMEN, POOS or SUPERMARKETS.


Well, I’m lost for words now so I think I will start ranting about something else.

Remember the good times

For the one who has departed, remember the joy, the laughs, the funny looks, the fur, the wake-ups early in the morning, the nibbles. Her running away from people, and her appreciating things, people, tickles and strokes. Everything. Remember her as a baby. As a teen. As a grumpy old girl. As your friend.


She hasn’t and won’t forget you. She looks down upon you now.

Snoozing on a cushion.

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Woman does Poo in Supermarket!

OMG! Hot on the trail of the woman who did a pee in a shop, you’d think they couldn’t go any further, didn’t you?

Well, think again!

Une femme fait caca dans un rayon de supermarché by Spi0n

I do like the way she sort of shakes her bum at the end to make sure all the poo has come out.

However, she didn’t wipe her arse.

So no bum-fun for her hubby tonight, the dirty girl! Or maybe he’s on for it, maybe being French it is ok. She’s probably got a big bushy arse too!

Sunday, 1 January 2012

Happy New Year!

A generic HNY message to everybody out there. I’m watching the fireworks along the Thames from Clare’s building, sipping champagne from top quality Waitrose plastic wine glasses!


Can’t think of a better place to be, welcoming in 2012 with the girl I love.