Electronic box of tricks - amazing

It's amazing what can be done with computers now days. When my school first had a computer it was locked up in a cupboard and had to be wheeled out on a trolley. At the time it cost thousands of pounds, which no doubt could of been more wisely spent on other amenities. But it was an object of awwe. The computer I now use is a good few years old but still works, just about. It does my needs. However, the amazing thing is how with a few key strokes it is possible to do online shopping for of my known associates. Fantastic. Wallet lighter, but of course it would be all thanks to this box here sitting quietly. Except for the fan humming away.

Regardless of the beauty of online shopping, the difficulty comes in searching, finding the right item to purchase. Not quite but fortunately it is nearly nailed for me and it's a good feeling. All with the help of a keyboard and a few electronic bits and pieces put together. What would I do without this box of tricks, I can only wonder. Sing the twelve days of Chrimbo no doubt.

These things get smarter all the time. Now all we need is a computer with artificial intelligence, then it can order Chrimbo presents for you and take the hassle out of demented Chrimbo anxiety attacks. Now if only it could cook a turkey as well, well I suppose us humans have got to do something for ourselves.

Pay for a Plastic Carrier Bag!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the last few days I have almost become incensed by the issue of plastic carrier bags. When I go shopping it's usually spontaneous thing. I know I have to shop, get food and other items and make a half baked plan to do so in the evening. But with incredible ingratitude more and more shops expect I purchase a plastic carrier bag rather than give one away to me free. I was in W.H.Smith's hit the till with items coming to over £18 in value and then was advised I'd have to purchase a six pence carrier bag. A sharp pang of annoyance went through me, not quite enough to walk out and say "screw you" but it was there. I didn't argue and maybe I should of because after all the customer is always right. Fortunately I had a carrier bag which was holding a book and used it for my items. It advertised a different shop and so Smiths' lost out on free advertising. Even Marks and Spencers are getting in on this act. Now, if I am spending money on items from a shop the least they can do is provide me with a free bag so I can carry those items away. I don't think it's all down to the green lobby going crazy. It's nothing more than a rouse to skim off a few more pennies of profit for shops in a recession. Yep, it's all about screwing the customer even more.

So I nearly got screwed by Smiths. But am simmering away on how to get my own back. If people are now expected to bring their own carrier bags then it doesn't matter what those carrier bags have written on them. I was wondering about the logo "Smiths is too tight to give me a carrier bag so I bought my own."

I am a responsible person. I don't go throwing plastic bags out in the streets and littering the world, which other morons do. I usually keep my bag and use them to put rubbish in, they are handy rubbish bags. But the green lobby of this world has come to the conclusion plastic bags are killing the planet. I'm sure they are not, but rather it's the morons who dispose of them incorrectly who are killing the world. So because of some moron or rather many other morons in the world I now am forced to buy my own bag. Thing is, I'm not going to buy my own bag and I don't see why I should. So I've got to get into the routine of carrying a ruck sack or some other carrier with me permanently.

Aside from my annoying experience in Smiths. I went to a local shop and spent only a few pounds, to which they automatically gave me a bag to carry the few items I had bought. No questions were asked. So now to lead a revolt. It might be a one man revolt but it seems to me I can put my purchased items in any bag I so want. I really wonder who the shops would react if the masses of shoppers walked out with their own plastic bag castigating the mean fisted retailers who they'd just bought the items from. Sounds like a pretty good idea.

Conversation about Skinny dipping

I had a conversation with Sparkling, she said I should go Skinny Dipping. My reply was a no. For I know what she would of done. She wanted me to skinny dip for her pleasure while she drank wine on a beach. I saw in my mind a cold pebbled beach and icy water. As I entered the water and goose pimples began to infest my skin, I could detect without any doubt what Sparkling would be doing. Stealing my clothes. There would be no hesitation in this act. However, she then went on to say a fire would of been lit before I'd even hit the water. How awful of you Sparkling.

The ride back in the car would of seen me naked and covering my modesty with anything at hand. A newspaper if I was lucky, and although this was only a what-might-happen conversation I know better. Keep your wits about you specky boy.

Mixed all sorts

It's been a mixed day with a number of items appearing on the agenda. Sparkling Eyes has opened up the Community Centre and organised the official launch day. I sure hope she did not become the magician's assistant and have swords thrust through her while she sat in a box, or worse waited for the magician to use his guillotine. No, I don't think so, he was likely to have just pulled rabbits out of hats or bouquets of flowers. Sparkling has done so well with her efforts and I sure hope she gets some recognition from it. She's a wonderful woman indeed. I think Rock Chick may have been helping out as well, I hope she did and had fun as well. Just like her mum she's wonderful as well and deserves a break from friends who turn into not so good friends at all.

I had lunch at a carvery with Green Car man and Retired English Teacher. My English Teacher was on form and he was looking slightly more rotund than usual. It must be the winter weather I thought. Unfortunately the little Oriental man had a family bereavement so could not turn up. When he told me about it, I said I was here to help him in anyway I can. I haven't heard from him and suspect I will not at this time. The lunch was passable but the company better. The steak and ale pie just a little chewy for my liking.

Long haired boy had his birthday today, and is now 21 years old, how time so flies. I recall going to the hospital to see his mother, she was not having such a good time of the delivery. Staff had decided to segregate her into a private room because the other expectant mothers were being unsettled. It was the pain of her labour, and her screaming. To tell the truth she really wasn't up to the whole event. Mind I suppose like most pregnancies I'm sure it was not planned. Long haired boy was her first, followed by Banana girl and later on Monster Boy.

Tomorrow I am expecting the Talkatives to turn up. I've been informed it will be a short visit as the dogs are too big to put in the car with the rest of the family. Which makes sense an Alsatian and a cross breed Rottweiler are sure to take up space. I must wake up and take a deep breath tomorrow, I'll need it.

The man with an extra leg - not

I went to the gym this evening, although there's nothing unusual other than I was able to do a full work out rather than do a walk-out because of over eating at a Chinese-eat-as much-as-you-like. So was good in this respect. However, an unusual sight greeted me as I pushed the door open to the mens changing room and turned the corner. There were men getting changed of course but something stood out in a literal sense. My eyes were drawn to one particular person, they focused and I couldn't stop them.

On one seat there was a man who seemed to be buffing off a leg. It was a left leg and a full left leg, extending from foot to thigh. But the oddest thing which went through my mind was how odd. How odd a man should be buffing off a leg. And in a slow moment I had the following thought: he's got two legs and a leg he buffs off. He's got three legs. Yes, I actually thought for a moment this was a three legged man. So much for the maths classes when growing up. I wondered in this slow moment, what he wanted with the extra leg, how he walked with it, and what was it's function? I saw in my mind a man walking along with three legs. Yes, it was a particularly slow moment. How on earth could my imagination go on such a tangent in the matter of a short moment I just don't know. Then it occurred to me to count his legs. I'll not go into any logic now only the notion I had to count them. So I counted the leg being buffed as one, I saw a complete right leg. I guess it was complete because it was in a track suit with a trainer on the foot, and where the left leg was, I saw a stubbed thigh which was wrapped in some kind of stocking. Remarkably it was only at this point I realised he only had two legs. Two legs. Of course a false leg only two legs. Somehow the slow moment passed me and I'd learnt to count at least up to two if not three.

The surprise parcel

I know what Sparkling is really like when it comes to presents. She has to feel them, prod them, shake them and manipulate them in anyway she can to find out what is inside. This is when she hasn't already guessed and is right 9 times out of ten. So when she receives an unexpected parcel there is a fire of curiosity which soon takes hold.

A few weeks ago while in Sparkling's company we were perturbed about having no tin opener to open a tin. It had become a pain. Off to the shops we went, purchased a new one, and as soon as I get back home. I then learn the new opener has broken. I can't believe it. So with determination and a quest in mind I set about ordering a brand new tin opener. I checked the Internet sites, chose the one with a good review paid over the top and then waited. Nothing at first happened and I got an email back to say the supplier was out of stock. I thought no more of the matter and had not told Sparkling, because the item had not actually been sent to her. A couple of weeks pass and then I receive an email to say it has now been sent.

The supplier must of had a contract with a very efficient delivery company. Because before I had a chance to tell Sparkling it had arrived on her doorstep. For an instant I could see her face and expression. I could see the cogs in her brain spinning round in overdrive. Going crazy and asking the inevitable question "what is it?" Not to mention Rock Chick was home because she was feeling poorly so also would of been curious. I can only guess how long it took for the parcel to be opened up. If I say one minute it could be too generous, but it would of depended what Sparkling was up to at the time. No. It wouldn't. The parcel would of been first priority. I expect when she actually began tearing away at the package it was opened within 10 seconds, I'm guessing she would not of wanted to ruin her finger nails otherwise 5 seconds.

The text message must of come within a minute, no probably 5 minutes of opening. Because Sparkling and Rock found their mysterious parcel to be none other than a wonderful Tin opener sent with my love. Sparkling said in her text that romance is not dead. She and Rock Chick had been in fits of laughter. Several times during the day, I thought of the parcel being opened and laughed myself.

I wonder what I can send next time?

A view on maths from the girls point

This may be a obvious fact for some people, however a couple of mornings ago it was spouted like the first piece of news in the world, girls and boys differ. Thank heaven's there is a dissimilarity between girls and boys, otherwise the world would be so unexciting. However, this was in relation to the study of Maths. It seemed quite simple, to teach Math to girls a different method had to be used. Boys might have an affinity to numbers and a strange want to try and understand numbers in the purest form, but girls apparently need to know the wider context. For them, the reason why numbers should be studied in the first place has to be made. When I think about this, it sounds probably more logical than just studying them with no reason at all. It just goes to show how important maths is but more so how importantly girls ask this question. It is a more basic, and searching question, it is an obvious question, it is a question the boys should of thought about first, shame on them.

In further revelation the scientists noted boys and girls had different hard wiring in the brain. Though I must admit to a little bit of doubt in this point. I can understand there being some differences in the brain but I wouldn't of thought those differences were in order of the Grand Canyon. Girls think through their neo cortex whilst boys think about maths in terms of their hippo campus. When this particular explanation was given I thought "utter none sense" of course I could be wrong and thinking through my backside rather than my hippo campus, but I'd sure like to see the research which suggests this is the case. When you have studied a science it's the raw journal article you get to cross examine, show it to me and I'll make my own mind up. Or maybe not make my mind up, especially if someone is telling me I should. Because I rather don't like to be told how I think. I just think. Therefore I am. As one great philosopher said.

So although the news on the radio program was not as revealing as it proposed to be, I'm sure glad there is a difference in boys and girls. And more so the difference continues throughout life. All I can say is what about the poor hermaphrodites?

Can't take it with you

What an odd week it has been. Or perhaps it has been just like all other weeks. Sparkling will tell me how dull and boring my existence is and probably at the same time throw a custard pie at me.

This week for some reason when I passed the funeral directors on a little walk up the road, I wondered about making my own funeral arrangements. I wondered also about making a will. When I met my father for the first time, his pretense for the meeting was something to do with making a will. I thought about how my estate, and how little of it there is would be divided up. How someone I knew who seemed to be concerned with money for their children rather than presents at Christmas would view inheritance. For them as for others money appears to rule their world. Be this the lack of it or the need to spend it, it's not a nice place to be in. It is important and can not be ignored, but it is not everything. There are some things I never got to talk to my father about. My own pains of being brought up, issues I wanted to get off my chest and I never can. That opportunity is over. Sometimes all the money in the world is can not cure grief or the need to talk.

It is overcast outside and there is a threat of rain. But it is also very mild. Winter should be cold and frosty. Leaves are in the process of dropping off trees and in fact they are nearly bare, but the cold crisp bite of winter is more of a toothless gumming. It could even be a miserable summer day. The seasons are changing, it's sad. You're body can get partly used to the cold. It's something to moan about as well. A talking point. Cold also kills of vermin and insects, it acts as a controlling mechanism. If it stays mild all tropical diseases can become reality even in England. The Thames could be a festering lagoon for mosquitoes.

I'll be out shortly. In the company of a little Oriental fella and Green Car man. To walk around shops. Wow, great. interesting not. Maybe I should look for a casket maker, one who knows how to deal with expanding wast lines.

I saw a Grinch run off with Crimbo

I can not believe how quickly Crimbo has come, these are words which will be echoed throughout the country over the next few weeks. It is as though the very word itself has some warning attached to it. And it does. There is no hiding from it. It is coming. Coming like an express train whose wheels have been doused in grease. With serious momentum there is nothing able to stop it. Nothing except. I hesitate to say. The Grinch! With open arms I waved at him and wished him well as his large fat green bottom waddled down the street. He was laughing to, for he has taken away Crimbo. What a relief. The sigh is like a world shattering Mexican wave reverberating from coast to coast. It's infectious, it's happiness. Now the world is without commercialisation for this Crimbo. Without the need to purchase tedious over rated advertised crap. Which you know isn't going to work, and you're not sure is the right thing to buy in the first place. Yes. The Grinch has gone and now he is a speck on the horizon.

Now it means I can go to sleep without worrying about some overweight man dressed in red dropping down the chimney pot. Worse still considering nobody now days actually has a chimney. Does this mean the white bearded fella is ace with a lock pick set? Well I suppose modern times mean modern solutions. He's probably tendered out the delivery arm to the local Chinese delivery service, or Pizza for those who prefer Italian. Except for this year, he'll be taking a break on account of the Grinch having stolen it and the white beard can be trimmed. Something to do. Something to pass the time old fella. I'm sure he'll be thanking the Grinch as well.

I'm off. Got to do something about this sudden green complection I've aquired.

The Royal Ramily are dotty to

After managing to actually extract myself from the house this morning I went and bought a newspaper, I even tried to get a hair cut but too many people had the same idea. I certainly wasn't going to wait for an hour or more. Because, plainly speaking, queuing is a waste of life. Sometimes though it can not be avoided then I pay the price for impatience.

Returning back to the newspaper. It was in this paper I found a revealing article about the late Queen mother. For those who don't know, it's old one who always had a nice granny smiley face and the nation warmed to with such enthusiasm. Yes remember her. The article was about a book recently written by an interviewer and reporter on a prestigious serious radio program. So in all sense of the word, his word and reputation is by all means his bond. He had met the queen mother in the 1990's just after coming back from an international meeting involving many European leaders. He mentioned this to the Queen mother and was taken back by her reply. Which I'll not print in full because it would be pretty politically incorrect, just to say there were some colloquial terms she used to describe the Italians, Spanish and French in quite a derogatory fashion. The reporter was taken back by this and unable to reply at the time. But fortunately for us, and unfortunately for them, he put the episode in his book. Her comments were to all intent and purposes those of a bigot and racist. I thought the episode quite funny. I'll expect it will also do his book sales no harm either lol.


The reason I smiled, is if we all look at our own families we can see there are members who show racist, bigoted and cretin like tendencies. If it were not for the fact there existed a blood tie these persons we would not associate with in any form. I've wondered personally about the notion of an adoption agency where it's possible to adopt new relatives. One's better to your liking. I'm nearly certain I was mixed up at birth and have been brought up in the wrong family. The world has not caught on to this adoption idea, but if enough people read this BLOG then it just might be possible to make this real.

Maybe in some small country it could be a real law. What a new world it could then become. So in reality, those embarrassing members of our families could be adopted away.

Mind it is good to know royalty has it's own portion of embarrassing family members. We all make bloomers at times. I see in the same paper an article about Prince William when he took an RAF helicopter on an errand run, to pick up his girlfriend. It went on to say if the RAF had known what his intentions were at the time he would not of been allowed his little taxi service. Now what is the old saying. I recall now, "with power comes corruption, with absolute power comes absolute corruption" something along those lines.

I expect though when this wonderful idea is taken up by a small Island maybe in the Pacific, I'll emigrate there. Of course I'm sure the Island will not be run by a monarchy and so long as I don't need a donor liver, kidney or some other useful part all will be OK.

Scarey Dexter

Just seen an episode of Dexter series 3 and it ended making me feel a little scared. The reason being Dexter came out as what he really is, a cold hearted sociopath when it suits his needs. In consideration I don't think there will be another season's after this one. They will retire him in some way, if not from the script then I can't see Showtime continuing with the series. Dexter had the counter appeal of being an anti hero, but I don't know. For some reason he seemed exactly what he is and not enough of the dark comedy element was present. It got to me.

Christmas is very nearly here and it only seems an ever so short time ago, it was here before. It's time to go prezzy hunting. My worst pass time, I'd rather go fishing and hit trout over the head with a cosh then gut them in a sink. What will I get Sparkling or Rock Chick? I wonder if they life fresh fish, I'd kill two fishes with one stone.

I hear fireworks being let off into the night. It's been raining again. When you look up into the night sky the diminutive reality of things comes home. I think of the first animal into space. I think if I'm right it was the Russians who sent up an ape. How awful mankind can be. Mind I suppose the apes did get their revenge, especially from the film Planet of the Apes. After watching it I'm sure it serves us right for sending our furry relative up there.

Overtime tomorrow and I haven't spoken to Sparkling today. The day has just passed too quickly but it doesn't stop me thinking of her. I know for one thing, she would not of let the ape go up in a space capsule, if she saw that the ape would of been rescued and the scientist booted up the backside and in the capsule instead. Nope, can't hear any fireworks going off now, bet they thought twice.

Sparkling gave me a dizzy head

Life is never dull with the goings on I witness in Sparkling’s vicinity. For instance, yesterday Sparkling was undergoing two sets of phone calls one with a magician the other with fishes from the fish factory she works at. The magician had been booked to do an hour’s entertainment at the opening of a community centre. The little fish wanted a revolution against the big fishes and demonstrations. Sparkling asked the magician if he needed an assistant, because she would be free for that. I could only think there is a Debbie Magee in the making here. I then asked her if she might whether the tricks involved getting a finger cut off, or swords. At this point she remarked it was something she had not thought about and a little bit of trepidation crept in. I wondered in my mind what really happened in the afternoon or the following evening after Sparkling had spoken to these two fellows.

The little fish who had been off work for the last 6 months and had drunk maybe a bottle too many wanted the big fish to be brought to account. So he told Sparkling. Whilst the magician said this is something he could do. How asked the little fish? The bearded, top hatted purple coated, man mystically replied, he would sprinkle a bit of magic humility powder on the big fishes as they left the factory. Sparkling flashed her eyes in the wonderful way she does, when she needs someone to do a favour and charm becomes the flavour of the day. After which the magician and the little fish got fixed up in a lift on the 14th floor at midnight. It was the 14th because Sparkling held a belief the 13th would be unlucky, on account it held an apartment where chicken rustlers hid out. So, the little fish bought his bottle of Vodka the magician his wand and together they cast a spell, except some might say the little fish was a bit green at casting spells and it sounded more like he’d had an attack of tourettes syndrome, but it was in fact quite natural and nothing the medical profession should worry about. The magician eventually found his way home on the back of a turtle. Their meeting place was close to the sea you see. And next week we’ll find out what the result of this meeting was, apparently the spell begins to work as a half purple moon draws on a Thursday. So keep your eyes peeled.

Whilst today I received a text from Sparkling telling me she had sent an email to the KKK. A group of people with racist belief’s living in a country called America. Sparkling has taken a liking to Barak O Barmy the president elect. So have many more people. Unfortunately it’s rumoured the world will be watching to see if Mr Barmy lives long enough because a number of extremist groups are likely to see him as a new target. Well it stands to reason, there wouldn’t be much effect in taking a pot shot at Mr Bushy there would very likely be no effect. I hear turkey shooting is way better.

For some reason I think my chocolate sponge pudding I’ve just eaten has had too many additives, it sure tasted sweet. Maybe too sweet. I’m expecting a visit tomorrow. They didn’t leave a name. But apparently they have a thing for wearing white I am told. And there seems to be some odd sparkling debris on the top the porch. Where the visitors are coming. I’ll put some big fish soup on, I’m sure they will all like some.

In with the Large

Well the time has come and no matter how much I kid myself, hitting the gym, eating like a vegetarian-not; today I threw out the some medium briefs and loaded up on the large. They were just a little too tight at times. And there’s only so much testicular strangulation a man can take. The bin gratefully ate them and gave me some slack. What a relief.

However, in ever lasting hope things will change I’ll still continue with the gym, rather than singing out aloud in a alto tenor I’ll go bass. Though it’s not real singing as such, rather the odd grunt in between laboured breaths as I trudge along on the treadmill. I usually alter the speed so my little leggies can slow down. This way no one comes over to ask if I need resuscitation. With all the pretty people there I expect there wouldn’t be much chance of being resuscitated, they’d be checking out their profiles in the mirrors. Left side, right side and then checking their hair. Gyms are no longer the place of blood, swet and tears. Unless your shorts are too tight.

Choosing briefs was simple. It helped there being a special offer at the prestigious Hollywood store called Primark. With it’s recently imported brand. Good VFM, value for money. And they had plenty in size large, unfortunately they were all black. I’d of liked some patterned ones. Not flowered. Just different patterned ones but there was none there. Someone must of got in before me. Someone with as big an arse, or if they are unlucky a bigger appetite and tight large briefs because like me they are fooling themselves.

Unfortunately, people are getting bigger in the UK. Maybe it’s another American import caught on here. Except we don’t talk with the American accent. Mind in some countries, being large, or overly large is seen as a symbol of wealth. A Nigerian lady I know told me so. I don’t suppose they considered the effects of type 2 diabetes or the planet. For it stands to reason, heavier people will require more fuel or energy to move them about on the bus. There is no doubt we all need to go green, so my large briefs are probably a smack in the face of the green lobby. I expect it’s something the green lobby don’t want to think about. I wouldn’t blame them. There’s more important things. Like the disappearance of the whale. “What whale?” I hear you ask. Any whale. Hmm perhaps there is a connection there, maybe whales are being used to make large briefs. I understand, it explains the explosive farts. Not me of course. I mean the real big people with the missing whale briefs. Note to self, avoid walking behind big people, especially in closed spaces.

Dross and more dross

Went out today with Green Car man and the Little Chinese fella to Camden Market. Taking a Northern line tube from London Bridge. The weather has been awful all day. This morning it began overcast and if anyone had said to me this is the best it is going to get I would have been pretty disappointed to say the least. It was the best, things got worse afterwards. Darker more depressing and then constant rain, some of it heavy. Half cold. We did our usual walk around the market, I ate a Chinese dish of fried rice and chicken in black bean sauce. It was a little overdone with salt and not much spice. We noted how the same time last year we came here it was poor weather as well. Snow if I recall rightly. It was when I purchased a Russian style hat to wear in the winter. I’m wearing it now indoors, it’s my inspirational hat. Socialist, Russian, Hammer and scythe badge, can’t beat it for a head warmer.

Sparkling Eyes has gone incognito or offline. I know why. It’s the X Factor. Her winter warmer. My torture show, it should really be called the Cringe Factor but there would have been too many character spaces used. It’s particularly watch by teen girl fans and gay men I understand, or is it they are the groups who vote?. If you’re a young male contestant it’s possible to hit both these viewing groups and maximise votes. I would, except I’m no longer young and I was never able to move my hips in a particular way. The boredom factor so high, even Mr Cowell forgets the names of contestants, whilst Danni checks herself out in her powder puff after having a quick snort and wanders if she is quite her sister’s double yet. Nope Danni you just don’t have the Nah Nah Nah.

The big bloomer of the week has been Jonathon Dross and Russell Bland. Going on radio and making a typical pubescent juvenile phone call to the respected Manuel from Faulty Towers. Manuel is now 73 years old. I wonder how he felt when he replayed his answer phone to find these brainless overpaid plumb in mouth tossers sounding off. Especially the rather intimate news one had laid his grand-daughter. I heard part of their apology on the radio. It wasn’t an apology at all. More like a little brat boy pretending to be sorry but not really caring what he did. I’m sure the main culprit is Mr Dross. Bland has done the noble thing, resigned from his post. Dross hasn’t. Perhaps it’s worse because no one I know actually likes Dross. Maybe I know the wrong people. Yep, I really don’t know many juvenile upper class overpaid tossers on six million pounds a year just for the radio slot. So much for my social circle.

Damn legs are killing me after gym yesterday, gut as well. It was the big ball thing. Even though I took an extra long hot bath they still refuse to be normal and ache. So goes the process of old age, someone shoot me. Maybe in the morning they will be better. I’ll be able to walk down the stairs without an internal yelp. Perhaps I’ll have a renewed hip movement and toned up vocal cords. Then I could go on the Cringe Factor. No, maybe not because it would be something to wince at while passing the puke bucket.