Computer World *

It seems like months ago when I received the wonderful gift of a computer. At the time I was given it, I didn't have a landline phone and, ergo no internet access, ergo get landline and, I thought, ergo internet access. But my ignorance of computers didn't help at this stage. So I then decide to get broadband, which I could get free from Orange as I pay them enough every month to get this free service. Weeks of waiting then follow and then I get the broadband equipment. It's not compatible with my computer as computer, strangely, doesn't have an ethernet port (at this stage, I don't know what I'm talking about and know nothing of these terms). So I visit three different shops in different parts of London for an adaptor which will let my plug my ethernet connection into a USB port. I get one, but it doesn't work. I give up, particularly as I have parental duties to carry out. That was last week and that was after many phone calls to Orange, all of whose staff, I have to say were extremely helpful.

On to this week, I decide, after talking to one or two people - the boy's mum and JJ - to persevere and try and try again. I did. This morning. All connected up. After four more calls to Orange technical support - those people really are nice and helpful to the ignorant folk like me who call them.

I know then have broadband internet access. This has its downside as many of my free evenings and weekends will now be spent writing really really boring posts such as this.

Now, I'm off to meet JJ and then we go and see Richard Hawley. Talking of which, he was very good on Later last week, but wasn't a patch on the Killers, who weren't a patch on Lucinda Williams - okay, then, they were all fucking brilliant.

* Kraftwerk

Liar *

Our children must be really stupid for thinking that we are so stupid. Take this afternoon, for instance ...

Got to my son's house at 2.45pm to find son and friend with shoes off, jackets off, playing computer games. I enquired as to why he wasn't at school, to which he replied that "it's afternoon break and we're allowed to go out." And, when I say replied, I really mean shouted. In the politest way possible I told him to fuck off out the house and return on his own after school. I then phone school to enquire how long afternoon break is and how many minutes it lasts as I'm thinking it would have to be at the very least 45 minutes long if they had time to walk from school, play a computer game and then walk back to school. It wouldn't take a genius to realise that, no, afternoon break isn't 45 minutes long, it's actually 10 minutes long and finished at 2.30pm and that the boy wasn't registered for either of his two classes this afternoon and nor was he registered for either class on Monday afternoon. No point going back any further, cos we realise there's a pattern emerging. This follows the time when JJ and I found him rounding the corner to go home just a few weeks ago when he was supposed to be at school, even though, at that time, it was at least lunchtime. So, I'm waiting for him to arrive home from wherever he is, ready to give him a right fucking kicking - the wee stupid shite that he is! He is this and he must think I'm the kind of person who would do this.


* Sex Pistols

Tomorrow Belongs To Me *

After work tomorrow (yes, I know, working on a Saturday - but I'm not one for complaining - s**t, f**k and b******s), JJ takes me off to a work "do", where I get to be introduced to her workmates, so should I be

a) scared that I get pissed and make a complete fool of myself and, by association, her
b) nervous, in case they all hate me and force her to dump me
c) happy, cos I finally get to meet Barry Chuckle?

* The Sensational Alex Harvey Band - who remembers them performing Next on the Old Grey Whistle Test? I think it was the first time I ever heard the word "gonorrhoea"! Well, I was young!!

Play Ball *

Some may have seen it before now, but an utterly hilarious and very accurate description of playground football can be found here, written by St Mirren fan and top author Christopher Brookmyre. The first sentence had me smirking but I was then laughing out loud by the end of the first paragraph!

*Utada Hikaru

Voodoo Chile *

I haven't seen the news today, so can anyone tell me if this worked?

*Jimi Hendrix

All Fucked Up *

This just about sums up the madness of capitalism.

* Everclear

Let's Do It *

As stolen from Darren, who stole it from somewhere else, look here to find out what was number one on the day you were born - or, any other day for that matter.

Mine is Roy Orbison with Pretty Woman, while Take That and Pray was at number one the day the boy was born - the boy who is giving me the opportunity to blog, btw, as he is off sick and I, being the caring parent, am off work to look after him.

* Cole Porter

We Can Work It Out *

Surely the point of spam e-mail is to try to get you to buy some crap (viagra or penis pumps, for instance) or read some weird web site which could bring you untold wealth or ecumenical enlightenment or something or other. But can anyone tell me what the e-mail which landed in my inbox with the title "Paraffin-base paddle plate" is all about:

"i am sure i shall break mine ," said lydia.
cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income."
"i cannot see that london has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the
"i have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly. as it principally
cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word i say. i am
"i have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation
"pray, miss eliza, are not the ×shire militia removed from meryton? they must be a great loss
an excuse for it. one cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in
behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard
contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he
but of this answer lydia heard not a word. she seldom listened to anybody for more than half a
at night she opened her heart to jane. though suspicion was very far from miss bennet's general
"perhaps i do. arguments are too much like disputes. if you and miss bennet will defer yours till
"are you indeed? and pray what sort of guardians do you make? does your charge give you
appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very
acquaintances. with them he is remarkably agreeable."
and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad-belongs to you alone. and so you like this man's
"my dear lizzy,
could about such a nasty little freckled thing?"
be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were


* The Beatles

It's Too Bad *

This is even funnier than the punch-up on the touchline at Upton Park today.

*The Jam

Go Down Gambling *

At the beginning of the football season, I was tempted to put a bet on the winners of all four English divisions.

Chelsea were the obvious punt for the Premiership. Who for the other four divisions, though?
Birmingham looked to have much the same team from the side who were relegated and they must be considered seriously strong contenders for the Championship - they have been proved to be the best of the relegated sides (so far).
Tranmere, it has to be said, have been in that third division for too long and they should be getting themselves back into the second tier sometime soon.
And Wycombe we all feel sorry for (or we should) as they were looking such favourites to go up last season before manager John Gorman had to look after his dying wife.

So, they were my tips. But I didn't get round to putting my bet on cos my finances were not looking too hot at that particular time. By the way, odds on the accumulator were about 120/1. So I wait a few weeks and they are all looking quite good in their respective leagues with the exception of Birmingham who are on a run of too many draws and a few defeats and a lot of calls for Steve Bruce to resign. Reidski then looks at the odds again for the bet and they have improved considerably. So I put the bet on - but think that each-way may be the more sensible option this time. So me and mate at work go halvers on a fiver each way. As I write, it's looking good:

Chelsea - in second place three points behind the leaders Manchester United and with a game in hand.
Birmingham - fourth place and three points behind leaders Cardiff.
Tranmere - fifth place and a whopping nine points behind leaders Nottingham Forest (but only a measly two points behind the team in second - and I can't be fucked looking that up right now).
Wycombe - third place and five points behind leaders Lincoln.

If they all finish in the top three (or top two in Chelsea's case) then it's a blow out weekend with many drinks and a couple of lovely meals with JJ.
If they all win their respective titles, then it's a holiday for JJ and I to somewhere nice and sunny - I fancy Italy myself.

Roll on May next year!!

* Blood, Sweat & Tears

The Concept *

We have nothing to lose but our chains - animated version!

*Teenage Fanclub

Good Morning *

Celtic got thrashed last night and now I don’t think we’re going through to the knock-out stages - in fact, don't think we'll even finish third and thus make the UEFA Cup.
Woke up this morning in what must the coldest day in history. Got out of bed and instantly froze. No heating coming out of the radiators. That’s weird, I thought. Then started the shower. Water not heating up. That’s weird, I thought. Still no water heating up – in fact, water fucking freezing. Go and look at the meter. No money in meter. Think to myself: “Alex, you stupid cunt, why didn’t you keep an eye on how much was in the meter over the last few days?” So didn’t have a shower. But did need a shave, cos I looked like a fucking caveman. Don’t know if you know what it’s like to shave with freezing cold water, but it’s fucking agony. So I shave and I’m fucking freezing and can’t believe my face hasn’t been cut to ribbons, cos that’s what normally happens when shaving with freezing cold water. So decide to leave for train five minutes earlier than usual cos the house is totally fucking freezing and I think that a walk will at least heat my body up a bit. Get to station in plenty of time and at least my body has warmed up a bit. But the train is late and by the time it arrives I’m totally fucking freezing. So leaving house early wasn’t such a good idea after all. And then, cos train has been delayed, it means that this has given more people down the line the chance to catch it. So train is absolutely packed and there is no way I can get on it. So I have to wait for the next one and the clock is ticking. Eventually it comes and I get on. Not too packed, but the couple standing near to me both have the whiffiest of bad breath – obviously smokers – and I get the full force every time their heads point in my direction. Pure dead smelly.
As it nears London Bridge, people do that weird thing and stand up before the train stops to try and wedge themselves as near to the door as possible. Guy treads on my foot in his stupid attempts. I glare at him – he backs off and apologises.
I get on the Tube and get a seat at next stop – this is good. I take my book out and huge bloke next to me proceeds to snore the fucking roof off. It puts me off reading. In fact, I want to punch his stupid face in. He snores the whole way to Euston – fucker!!
I then try to walk up escalator. Someone in front does the unpardonable and puts their bag on the left hand side so we can’t walk up. Stupid tossers.
I then get hit by a wave of coldness as I leave the station.
I then see two young teenage girls light up fags outside shop just down from work – what a very depressing sight so early in the morning.
I eventually get into work and someone (and I fucking know who) has left the fucking air conditioner on all fucking night – it is totally bollocking freezing. A brass monkey in front of me now has no balls.
I then get a right whingeing bastard on the line for over 30 minutes as my first call.
That arsehold upstairs phones and does what he always does and really winds me up.
The phones are going mental and there is only three out of the eight of us in.
One previously absent colleague has only now, as I write, walked into the office 40 minutes fucking late without any explanation to anyone, including her boss.

Am I in a bad mood? Am I fuck! I'm happy as Larry (who is he, anyway?) cos I'm catching the train to see JJ tonight!

But, for now, back to work!

* It could be The Beatles, Dandy Warhols or Debbie Reynolds, Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor.