NEWSFLASH

“All Arabs and Pakis are dead.”

(Carlsberg don’t do blog posts, but if they did, this would probably be the best blog post in the world.)

New Planet

Exciting, huh?

What did I miss?

I’m going to try and round a few things up here, seeing as I’ve been too busy in the last little while to post here.

News stuff

I haven’t mentioned the bombings. And I don’t intend to, other than to say that a) I don’t agree nor condone them, b) I’m not surprised they’re happening and c) we should expect some more. On a related note though, something connected has royally pissed me off. The shooting of the innocent man. The man repeatedly ignored Police warnings, and armed Police shot him. Simple. The people who are calling for the necks of the officers involved, saying that it’s outrageous, saying this and that should all shut the hell up. Tony Blair and the chief of Police publically apologised for it. Why? Yes, it’s unfortunate that he turned out to be innocent. But the Police are operating under extremely difficult circumstances. And they did their job. What if he had turned out to be a bomber, and they hadn’t shot him? And another 20 innocent people lost their lives? It makes me mad. So well done to the boys that shot him. And yeah, apologies to his family, but he had it coming. Sounds callous I know. Fuck it.

Small pleasure

I got my first Google adsense payment. I’m not allowed under their TOS to disclose the details of it, but I will say, that for what is essentially free money (I had the website anyway) it’s a real pleasure to check your bank balance and see a not inconsiderable amount of money in there, for no extra work. So thanks to Google. And thanks to the people who clicked the ads.

Personal guff

Well it’s all go round here. I’ve been busy. I’m still working 3/4 nights a week as a doorman, but only for another 2 weeks, because I’m moving to Guernsey to write my PhD thesis. I’m moving into the house next door to my folks which will be good because I haven’t spent any real time with them in the last 6 years. So I’ll be close, but not actually living with them. That means it’s all mad round here as I’m packing up all my stuff and sorting the house here out to move out there. I’ve moved out of my office at Uni and already sold my big TV, my couch, and hopefully my beer fridge. So I’m still looking to let go of my Dolby Digital surround kit. I’m also considering selling my beloved Honda CBR600 FX as I can’t take it to Guernsey with me. I’m aiming to get the first draft of my thesis written by the end of September, with a view to submitting before Christmas. After that I’m travelling, Long Way Round style.

A sphincter says what?

The average man will get his hair cut roughly once every 2 months. At an average cost of £10. I haven’t paid anyone to cut my hair in 10 years. So aside from the £30 or so quid I spent on clippers, I reckon I’ve saved myself nearly £600 (not to mention all that money saved on shampoo). Interesting.

I’ll try my best to update the other sections of this site soon, I have some movie reviews to do, and I really ought to update Fingers.

10 Things… a reply.

Christine posted an amusing, something (not sure it was a rant), about 10 things a man should know about women. Seeing as it seems Chris was too scared to post a reply, I thought I’d grab the mantle, and do it myself.

10. Men enjoy farting and burping. You should too.
You do fart. You do shit. It does not smell of roses. Be proud of your natural bodily function. Just because men often make more of a show of our natural ability, does not make us any moreorless disgusting than you women (who use half a roll of toilet paper on each visit to the bathroom, and usually leave most of it lying about). Gain your man’s respect by exaggerating your flatulence. The louder the better.

9. The toilet is a special place.

Everyone has to use them, but men seem to have a natural affinity with the bog. Whether it’s a quick #1, or a carefully crafted, time-consuming #2, the toilet is a chance to get a little alone time, to sit and contemplate, or simply perv over the nudey pictures in the latest Loaded for 5 minutes. Yes, we may leave the toilet seat up. Yes, we may pee with the door open for all and sundry to listen to. We’re always getting told we should be in touch with our feminine side; this is merely us maintaining touch with our neanderthal side. You can’t have it both ways.

8. The pub is not just a place to get shitfaced.

The pub is more than a dingy, smelly room that sells beer. If that’s all we wanted, we’d sit in the lounge and talk bollocks with our mates. Know the place of the pub in a man’s life. Try to mould your schedule around his need to visit the pub. Know when he wants to go to the pub on his own. Know when he wants to take you along as a trophy. If you’re lucky enough to go with him, sit quietly in the corner, and smile now and then. Only speak if spoken to directly. Be charming, but don’t steal focus. Drink beer, but not in pints. (drink 12 halves if you want, just not out of pint glasses). Look stunning, because he’ll enjoy showing you off to the other lads as much as you do. If he goes on his own, feel free to come up an hour later to let him know his dinner is ready, you’ll look like to doting wife. But don’t nag him. If he does go to the pub on his own – it is not about you, he does not need time away from you, he still loves you. All he wants is a pint in the pub with his mates. When he gets home, don’t moan that he stinks of stale fags and booze. Give him a smile and a quick cuddle and tell him an amusing anecdote about why the asparagus is a bit chewy.

7. Men do not have hidden/other/higher levels.

If a man tells you something, that’s what he means. “I don’t know” means “I don’t know”. “Yes” means “Yes”. “Your ex-boyfriend is a prick” means the guy is a total chopper. We do not have the ability to say one thing and mean something else (unlike women: “Whatever you want to is fine” – “if we end up watching the bloody cricket again, you’ll be single”).

6. Learn how to make a decision.

If he asks “What do you want to do?” do not say “I don’t mind” when really what you mean is “I really want to go to Top Shop to see if they still have that miniskirt on sale”. If that’s what you want to do, say so. He might want to go with you. He might reward your honesty by buying it for you. He might say he’ll meet you in the pub 2 hours later. Life’s a gamble. Better that than ending up at the speedway complaining that your heels are getting stuck in the mud.

5. We actually don’t care about much.

You know what you want to do. We don’t. When you say “I don’t mind what we do” (see above) that means “I know exactly what *I* want to do, and if you don’t instinctively know that, then we have problems”. We when we say “I don’t mind” – that actually sodding means “I really don’t care what we do”. Men are simple creatures. We derive pleasure from simple things. If you want to do something, say it. Don’t sit there and wait for us to try and come up with something new and original again and then spend all afternoon in a sulk because you don’t want to do it. And don’t try and get out of making decisions by kissing/hugging/tickling us. We see right through it. If you absolutely have to get out of it, it will have to be a blowjob.

4. Men like blowjobs.

There’s no such thing as a crap shag. BUT men aren’t sex-crazed animals with an indomitable desire to have sex all the time. Yes, we may think about it a lot. Yes, we will look at another woman’s boobs. Yes, there’s never a bad time to watch some porn. But that doesn’t mean we’re always after it. A bloke though will never turn down a blowjob. Use this to your advantage. Even at the most inopportune moment. His team are about to win whatever cup in whatever sport – if you’re down on your knees doing the bob, you’ve just made his fucking day.

3. Men are men are men.

Thanks to bloody feminism, blokes now spend a lot of their time worrying if they’re being sensitive, or caring, or non-sexist enough. So when we naturally display some carnal inhibition, be proud of it. When we snigger or guffaw uncontrollably at a bad joke, just smile. When we drink a 6-pack and belch, just laugh along. When we catch some other fella looking at your arse, support us in our need to knock him upside the head. You can disapprove if you want. Just don’t tell us. You can tut, and even shake your head, disgustedly. But only if you do it with a smile on your face. It must be with an ironic glare. Do it with love on your face and you’ll get him to do whatever you want. Do it in such a way as if to say “I don’t support you”, and you’ll only get it back 10 times worse. And when your boyfriend does defend your dignity, show your gratitude (hint: #4).

2. If we’re no good, tell us.

Men like to think they’re great lovers. Unless you tell us what we’re doing wrong, we’re not going to know any different. If you want it lower/harder/slower, then tell us. Don’t lie there waiting for us to figure it out. If we reckon we’ve found your spot, but we’re actually massaging your belly button, gently take our hand and put it in the right position. Show us what you want. And if what we’re doing is quim-teasingly right, let us know. Groans/screams/chants (“Oh my god you’re so big”) work well. Contrary to popular belief (a female belief, that is) we’re not mind-readers. We only do what we know. We’re eager to learn, though. Respect his enthusiasm to practice, 4, 5 times a day.

1. Don’t nag us to show affection.

Men are stupid, childish creatures. The more we get asked to do something, the less we’re likely to do it. Is it really a nice surprise if you whinge 40 times a day for flowers, and the next day you get flowers? Just because we haven’t told you we love you for 18 seconds, doesn’t mean we’ve all of a sudden stopped. Newsflash: we do think about you, we do miss you, we do look forward to seeing you. But unlike women, we do not let this dominate our everyday lives. When we sit in the pub with our mates, or get in to work, we might release a grunt that indicates how things with the wife are. But that’s probably it. We don’t sit around in changing rooms discussing nail varnish and the inner workings of the relationship. A small gesture now and then has more impact than a gesture all the time. Respect that. If you really need some reassurance, just approach him for a hug. Never ever EVER ask “Do you still love me?”. That’s likely to get you dumped quicker than a wheeliebin recycling plant.

I couldn’t not post this.

Oh, the humour.

Right place wrong time.

Last week I blogged about an incident that happened up the road from where I work, involving a girl being thrown out of a car. I was stood about on the road trying to help her for some 40-45 minutes and finally got it sorted.

Last night, I was getting a lift home from work, and less than a mile up the road, we got pulled over by the Police. Their reason? Apparently they couldn’t read part of the numberplate well enough. Now either this guy needs to get his eyes checked, or change the bulbs in his panda car, because we could all read it just fine (the whole number was equally dirty, not just the last two digits as he claimed). The point? Why did we get pulled for some pointless little non-thing, within 5 minutes of leaving work, yet when there’s a girl lying injured on the side of the road in the same area, did no Police car stop at all? Have they not got anything better to do?

Frightening behaviour

I’ve always kind of known it, but last night frankly confirmed it. There are a lot of fucking idiots out there in the world. Alright, not exactly ground breaking news. But after what I saw last night, you’ll maybe think again.

It was a busy night at work, but it all went smoothly. I leave work, and I’m in the chicken shop getting some dinner. I order, and decide to wait outside where it’s a bit cooler. There are a few drunk people milling about, the odd lunatic, the odd “blatantly just pulled” couple. As I’m watching the world pass me, a car screams up the road. Not unusual for Southampton I think.

Except for when it reached the set of traffic lights, about 50 yards up the road. It screeches to a halt. I’m thinking it’s missed the red light. All of a sudden the passenger door flies open and a woman is thrown out of the car, onto the road. The car accelerates away, with part of her still in the car. The car disappears up the road, with only the screams of the woman to be heard.

I legged it up the road to find out what was going on, if she was alright, etc. She is, but in shock. Hyperventilating a bit. Fortunately the worst of her injuries was a cut finger and a few grazes up her arm.

I spent the next 4o minutes trying to talk to her, find out what I could, finding out if there was anyone I could call, and finally getting her in a taxi. The whole thing could have been a lot worse. There was a point at which I thought she was actually under the car when it drove off. It turns out it was the ex-boyfriend driving and doing the throwing, but I couldn’t establish why he’d done this.

Regardless. How much of a fuckwit do you need to be to throw a woman, hell anyone, out of a car into the middle of the road and then drive off, leaving them there, alone, in shock, at the mercy of busy city traffic at 3am?