What the fuck our we doing in Afghanistan ? I think we're up to six British troops killed in the last few weeks. Its pointless. We got rid of the Taliban a few years ago, but they apparently didn't go very far, and now they want power back, and we're hardly likely to stop them with half a company of paras and a few helicopters, so why be there at all. If the Afghan people don't want to be under Taliban rule, its down to them to do something about it. Yes, it was oppresive when they had power, but did it affect us ? Is it worth yong British men losing their lives. ? No bloody way. The argument that soldiers know what they signed up for doesn't stack up here, we're not at war with Afghanistan. So what does our government do ? Commit more troops. Fucking morons. Look how may troops the Russians sent in, and it ended up being their Vietnam. More troops = more bodybags coming home for a cause that no one in this country gives two shits about. Iraq, Afhanistan, if they want civil war let them get on with it, its something that ultimatley we have no realistic chance of solving. Is it the job the West to impose the rule that we want ?

Buggered off for a week of sun, pool and beach. Back now.
A good holiday. A few 'firsts' for C. Bodyboarding in the surf, sea fishing including catching an octupus, eating his catch on the barbie that evening, going down the scary slides at the water park. J had a great week pottering in rock pools catching crabs, and jumping over waves.
A and I loved it.
Two weeks of work and then off to Italy, and then lots of work to pay for it all...

Splash

Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth - my arse. If he actually did as he was told once in a while he wouldn't have had me fishing him out of the River Avon yesterday evening.

'Stop at the next gate won't you '

'Yeah' - scampers off, instead of stopping, follows the dog through the dog gate. Dog decides to go for a dip, he gets too close, splash. Gumpher shows a suprising turn of speed, nearly made me think of getting my boots out for next season.

One very frightened three year old returned to the riverbank in one piece and our peaceful evening stroll continues.

Next week, Portugal, hussah !

Wonder what he'll break there. (Make mental note to check 'damage to villa' section in travel insurance policy)

How to start the day badly

Take number two offspring to nursery, stopping, as usual to collect his chum who goes to the same place. Have said chum open the front door and greet you by smacking you square in the nuts, and then same child having a spastic mentalist fit as his mother tries to put him in my car. Fit continues all the way to nursery where he has to be dragged kicking and screaming through the door. All the while number two offspring looks on with an air of mild bemusement, as if butter wouldn't melt.

Deep breaths, deep breaths..........

So his Royal highness, lord of all he surveys, defender of the faith and all round good egg Tony blair has finally got the aircraft he has hankered after for some time. Not one, but two of the fuckers. One for Tony and one for Tony's ego and Fat Bollox Prescott too share.
I'm sure this is all vital to the running of our country, but what about ' education, aducation, education' or is that soooooooooo last year ?
My son attends a village primary school which is chock full of all of the latest computers and whizz bang projectors, items Blair told us that schools were being filled with at a rate of knots. Oh yes, we've got them, and who paid for them, we fucking did, every last one of them through parent fundraising and donations. Yesterday the boy's spelling book was finally filled, so he was sent home with a scrap of some parents' company letterhead with his spellings on. We sent him back with his own notebook. Once a term every parent sends the kids in with a bog roll, a bloody bog roll, they've not even got a budget for wiping their arses. Each term we get a list of items that have no budget available, and the items beggar belief. Each term they also estimate a shortfall and ask each family for a voluntary contribution. All of which we do, everyone does, but there is an increasing feeling that if we wanted to pay for an education on top of the tax that we pay towards education then perhaps we'd consider private schools.

But, hey, Tony's got a new jet. Fine and fucking dandy

The one child wrecking machine that is my youngest son has really excelled himself this time. After weeks of effort, he has finally managed to block all of the drains. He has been sneaking into the toilet to flush all manner of bizarre things down the pan. Why ? I have no idea, and he's a clever little bugger and rarely gets caught, so fuck knows whats gone down it altogether. Various threats have done little to suppress his quest, and last night as A ran the bath out, the patio finally gave in and looked like the swimming pool in a dodgy Spanish hotel.

This morning I tackled it. Up came the patio, up came the drain cover, back in the house ran Gumpher to ring a drain company. Sixty five quid an hour. Wait 'til he gets back from nursery, little sod.

My eldest son, who is six, had a bit of a dilemma the other day. Football induced. I don't mind football, but other than playing in a summer five a side league to keep fitness going between the end and start of the rugby season, I've not played since primary school, whereas I've played rugby every season from the age of ten, I love the game, playing and watching, it's been a big part of my life. C has been playing football since he was four. A guy in the village started a junior section, and thanks to his endless effort, it's gone from strength to strength. I try and mooch off early every wednesday to watch the match at the end of practice. To C's delight he got man of the match yesterday for a crunching goal saving tackle, which in his mind qualified him for a chocolate biscuit with his bedtime milk. Anyway, with the world cup approaching, all the kids are getting pretty revved up, C's got his wallchart up, ready for the first game. One slight problem. No Wales. No great suprise to followers of football, but a bit bewildering for a six year old who wants someone to cheer on. I'm Welsh, born in Wales, Welsh parents, three Welsh grandparents (one slipped in from Yorkshire, it barely taints the bloodline) My wife has a English father and a Portuguese mother and the boys were born in Cheltenham. This caused a problem. I thought it reasonable that as soon as labour started, we would jump in the car and hot foot it down the M50 so they could be born over the border. my wife, selfish mare, was having none of it. Being Welsh is important to me, I have a strong sense of Welsh identity, and the boys think of themselves as Welsh. So here's the little fella's problem .At footie last night a good two thirds had the England kit on, the boy had his rather snazzy Portugal shirt on , the old purple one, they all want to be Rooney. So he sidles up to me with his sticker book, all earnest of expresion. "Daaaaad" "
"Yes chum ?"
When it's a long drawn out Daaaad, I know it's something he's been dwelling on
"You know this world cup"
"Yep"
"Just this once, and I don't want a flag or anything, is it okay for me to support England ?"
I want England to win the World Cup, they were the only home nation to qualify, and I think its fine to want them to succeed. Rugby's a different one, support only two teams, Wales, and anyone playing England.
"Go on then, just this once"
"Thanks Dad, but I promise, never at Rugby"

Thats my boy.

Each to their own, but I'm damn glad we don't live anywhere near the M fucking 25. Went to a wedding in Sidcup at the weekend, less said the better. Suffice to say it was a feeling of pleasant relief to be back in the Worcestershire countryside on Sunday.

Why are the utility companies such a useless bunch of cockends ? Every bill we've had in the last year has had a price increase, and they still declare vast profits. I've got to get off my arse and switch suppliers. They all use automated call centres, and I fucking hate them, as soon as they ask you to start pressing one for this and two for that I start boiling. Next time they ring me when they're chasing money I'll try to go into auotomated mode and really confuse some dweeb sat in downtown Bombay. If you do manage to speak to someone when paying ( I don't pay by dd because they never read the meter, and their estimates are always way out ) they finish by asking 'Is there anything else we can help with ?' Why ? Can you tell me why I keep slicing my nine iron ? Could you make the Home Office run properly ? If you want to help, get a real live human being to answer the phone within five rings . Gimps

Given up on Big Brother. What a bunch of retards. If Shabaz got taken to a vet he'd be put down, no point in prolonging his pain. Seriously, where do they find such fucked up people.

The usual bunch of social misfits and freaks are back in the Big Brother house. I'll be watching, it's crap tv, but once again it will pull me in, and once again it will make me feel good about myself in comparison to the whackos in the house. Shouldn't laugh at tourettes, but a bloke strolling around yelling 'wank !' a lot makes me giggle

Question Time was a giggle last night. The panelists were Lord Heseltine, Menzies Campbell, Piers Morgan and Bren off of Dinner Ladies. Seriously, what fucktard ever told Hazel Blears that a career in politics was a good idea. She was so way out of her depth that I almost felt sorry for her. ( I said almost, and the feeling passed swiftly).
I seem to be writing too much about politicians at the moment, but I loath this labour government, and watching them die like a fly on a turd amuses me

Glad to see that the cabinet reshuffle has sorted out the country's problems , and we can now sleep soundly at night safe in the knowledge that president Blair has his finger on the pulse.
So, what do we get, well if you're weeny peeny Johnboy, quite a lot actually. No actual job, apart from answering the odd jibe from lord Dave at question time when Tone's on his jollidays, retention of a full salary and the grace and favour properties, bet the fat twat has an few extra portions to celebrate. A stroppy former Marxist in charge at the home office, and weirder than weird Ruth Kelly, has a responsibilty for equality. You couldn't make it up, a women who belongs to a right wing Catholic sect, oops group, who believe homosexuality to be a fundamental sin, and she's a government minister with a portfolio for equality. Check out her voting record with such issues, there isn't one. The capacity for the jaw dropping, you're shitting me knows no end.

Another disturbing issue, marmite in a squeezy plastic bottle. Noooooooooo. You can never finish a squeezy plastic bottle, the last inch refuses to budge, all you get is splat of Heinz or Hellmans accompanied by a vile fart. This is not want when I apply marmite to my toast, it'll be like when the cat had the squits

Public service announcement

Don't mix beer, red wine and gin on a school night.........................................

Just when Prescott thought he was doing a good job of lying low and keeping away out of the spotlight The Sun runs a story about his 2 inch todger. Priceless. I always new this lot had no balls, now it appears they've got no cocks either.

If I hear any more about Wayne Rooney's foot I'll just shit myself. Is there a world cup coming up ? You'd never fucking know.

This is the view from our room the other weekend. it's actually the view from being sat on the pan, a loo with a view. The view from the bedroom was the same, we didn't have to take a dump to see the sea. I love North Wales, and hadn't been there for years. We dropped the kids at my Mum's and scooted up to Snowdonia. Empty, twisty roads, brilliant fun to bomb along. We did some horseriding, a lot of walking, ate some wonderful food in the hotel restaurant, drank to much, and had two blissful, uninterrupted nights sleep.

The Labour scuzballs have certainly excelled themselves in the last couple of weeks. That irritating, patronising cow in charge of Health must be thanking the good lord for Prescott and Clarke, it's certainly provided a wonderful shit deflector. Clarke is simply not capable enough to hold his position. You might not have agreed with the policies of men like Parkinson, Hurd and Heseltine, but I bet you felt confident that they had the ability to carry out their jobs effectively. They had a certain gravitas about them which these mickey mouse politicos certainly don't. Prescott is a buffoon, given a position of high power to appease the union and old labour support. The woman he shagged does not come out of this particularly well, but jesus, poor bitch having that fat lardass clambering on, I hope the Mail on Sundays shilling meets the physio bill of having that pie eater bouncing on top of her. Blair has to back these cretins, although all three are obviously incompetent, who would replace them ? Hazel Blears ? Ruth Kelly ? Fuck me gently with a spoon, thats a scary thought.

I can't see what all the fuss is concerning GP's salaries. The 250k figure being bandied about is not the average, it's the absolute top.These people train for a long time, and in recent times start work with vast personal debt. I would rather a GP averages over 100k than say an Estate Agent.
They also have to work within the NHS, which despite what Tone tells us, is in a total fucking shambles. Both my father and sister are dentists, my sister has recently started her own practice, putting herself up to her eyeballs in debt in the process, and the old man has had his own practice in the past, but now chooses to do locum work as he simply cannot bear to deal with the NHS directly. He recently walked out of an NHS practice as he was not comfortable with the standard of quality and work that could be carried out within the financial constraints of the NHS contract. They also had a couple of Polish imported dentists working there, nice people, but according to Dad, their work was bordering on butchery.Now before people whinge about dentist's pay, again, look to the new contract, they simply can't work with it. Incidently, the old feller has just taken a 4 month locum in Darwin, and even with air fares and rent still reckons to earn twice as much as in the uk for doing a four day week.
The concept of free health care is no longer there any more. We pay for teeth, eyes, and if you want it, a quick service. Again vast amounts appear to be wasted on a new computer system. With the goverments track record for collosal cock ups with computers, you'd expect them to give it more thought. But no, they just keep telling us there's more money than ever going into the NHS, which is fuck all good if it's not spent properly

The boys have been little buggers during the holidays, they've bickered and fought constantly. It's a tricky balance between keeping them occupied and doing stuff with them and not turning them into brats with everything done on a plate.
Still, they've appeared to have had fun when they briefly stopped battering each other. Easter was a bit of sod as I had to be on site on Friday and Saturday, but we had a good day out yesterday. Two days until our few days of relief. The hooligans are having a couple of days with Grandma and we're going to have a few nights on the coast in North west Wales. The hotel is small and tres posh and the menu looks groovy. Can't wait.

Oh the joy of interupted sleep. The whining of an attention seeking three year old at 2 in the morning, and the stubborness of said offspring in not giving in for two hours whilst we lie there refusing to give in because it took two and half years to get the little sod to go to sleep and we're not going back to musical beds. This happens a lot and it's starting to get wearing. Luckily c generally sleeps through it, but we are both buggered and crabby. I'm considering putting vodka in his milk.
I love the little git dearly but I could throttle him at times. Oh, and how's he in the morning ? Bouncing around like a badly trained labrador. Swine.

This is what I built, and donkey and pony field shelter half way up a mountain in deepest Wales. Pretty good views. I am not the worlds biggest fan of building stuff, but I enjoyed this. We were visiting friends who have opted for a rural existence and they'd just acquired the pony and donkey, oddly enough from the field next door to our house. So, a weekend of hard labour, good food, too much wine and the company of good friends. Plus, assorted children didn't fight, an added bonus.
If my four legged friends don't use it after our efforts, I'll show them what the French do to horses on our next visit