Generally a shite weekend. Had a good Friday night, the badminton club Christmas 'do'. A decent feed, good wine and beer so a hangover on Saturday. I decided that we would have a family outing on Saturday evening, something that I thought we would all enjoy, but ended up being wank. An hour each way in the car with the boys fighting all the way and a overcrowded event in the freezing cold. Sunday was again dominated by freezing cold, with the added bonus of it pissing down as well as I watched number one son playing rugby for a few hours. Just thawing out at home to get a phone call from the old man telling me how the heat is a bit much in Darwin.Peachy.
Am now stuck in front of my laptop totally fucking up some poor sods office design and hoping for some inspiration

BT - Bastard twatfucks

Had a dead tone on my business line, yesterday. Rang BT. 'Do I owe you any money ?'

No, so through to faults, who test the line and confirm that there is an external fault. They give me a reference number and then a response time.( Catherine Tate moment ) You're not going to believe this. Seven days. SEVEN DAYS, THE DIRTY BASTARDS. Its my business line you twat. 'Sorry sir', I know its not good enough but we've got a backlog.
Its fucking crazy that these huge companies can take my money and provide such a shite service. I tried Telewest a while back, and they were worse. Oh they fixed the fault quick enough, its just that the faults came more frequently than a number 10 bus. And to admit that it's shite and still take your money is just peachy.

stuffed

Went to the world's best stadium on Saturday ( and it will still be the world's best stadium even when the wendyball palace in London eventually gets finished. The only problem was that the world's best rugby team were playing in it, and that team was not Wales. Oh yes, the Kiwis stuffed us, in some fashion. Still, beer was drunk and songs were sung. It could be worse, at least I'm not English.

You want to be scared

Cracked me up !

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

Is there any point to Girls Aloud ? What a talentless bunch of munters. Their latest offering is bollocks of the highest order, 'something kind of ooh, jumping on my tutu'. Genius, bet the folks at Ivor Novello are poised with the engraving needle.

Talking of munters, got to feel sorry for Macca. Never took to him, but I do think it sad that some gold digging bunny boiler is going to take him to the cleaners. Supose he can afford to lose a few quid, but I'm not sure thats the point.

Need a bloody hoilday. If the two projects I'm working on come off before christmas, Thailand beckons. Hussah !

Sprog one played a blinder in his first proper match scoring a spanking try from the half way line. My jumper split as my heart burst with pride.

Hmmmm....

Not been that arsed to blog lately.

Been all over the country working, could do with another holiday, soon.

Boy No 1 has started U7's rugby and loves it, so I'm chuffed to bloody bits, first proper game next Sunday. No 2 continues his vastly successful career as a one boy wrecking mission, the bathroom now being his most popular target for wanton destruction. Hooligan.

Summers truly gone, which irks me. I don't like dark mornings and dark afternoons, makes me feel like a sodding mushroom.

Have come to the conclusion that Dim Dave is almost as big a twat as Honest Tone, and just as keen on soundbite politics. Can't we have Bonker Boris as leader of the Tories and Bagdhad George back to lead Labour purely for entertainment value. That fucktard Hazel Blears was on QT again last night, possibly the worst advert for being interested in politics around at present.

So the Pope is the latest in the long line of those to have pissed off Muslims.

Is it me or are they just a tad touchy ?

Quite amusing how one spouter of meaningless fairy tales can rattle the cage of the same. Lock a few of them up together and let them have a theological row. 'My god is the greatest, No, my god is the greatest'. Ah, I just love a tolerant religion

Scales of justice ?

'Prince' Naseem Hamed serves 16 weeks after nearly killing a man as a direct result of dangerous driving, he'd previously been banned from driving on two occasions.

Some bloke gets flashed by a gatso, and scared he'll lose his job if he's prosecuted, goes and blows it up. Shouldn't have been speeding, but I've been done by one of those bastard machines, and although a bit dim, good work fella. His sentence ? Four months.

Nice to see a sense of perspective.

Bizzare things

Going to your Dad's wedding at the age of 38. Well, wedding party, they got married in bali a few weeks ago. A seriously good night, catching up with loads of people, dancing like a dervish and generally misbehaving before finally giving up at six in the morning. Fairly monster hangover but well worth it.

Sad about Steve Irwin, seems to be a mixed bag of opinion about him, but I thought he was a cracking bloke, loved his huge enthusiasm for life, and his obvious love of wildlife

Off they go again......

Our troops our being killed in Afghanistan and Iraq. Hospitals are closing wards and making redundancies to avoid deficits. We live under a seemingly continual 'terror' threat, so what are the governments' new initiatives to do something about all this and to address these important situation?

Appoint a new minister with a responsibility for fitness. You couldn't fucking well make it up.Apparently were all going to be quite fat in a few years, and we need a minister to tell us how not to be quite as fat. Now I know there are a lot of extraordinarily thick people in this country, but I'm sure that most of them realise that if they swapped their diet of lard and lager for juice and salad, and spent less time with x boxes and sky and went for the odd walk instead that they might shed a few pounds. But no, the all seeing Labour government thinks they have to gently massage the message to the fatarsed masses. The new minister is a rarity in that she's one of the few politicians who would be worth giving a portion of pork sword to.

And then they wheel out the shining personality that is Ruth Kelly to help us with integration. I'm sorry, last time I checked I was British, living in Great Britain, I've been fairly well integrated for a while thanks. If others choose to live here, they can integrate or cock off back to where they came from. Also, I'm not going to take lessons in equality from a woman who's a member of a dodgy Catholic group who has never attended any vote concerning gay rights

Pimp my Saab

My six year old has developed a strange fascination with Pimp my Ride, (6.30 weekdays C5, if you're interested). It's led to some strange language entering the Gumpher household. I walk in from work,

'Hi chum'

'Hey dawg'

Hmmm

'Good day ?'

'Yeah, went swimming. Dad, can we pimp the Saab ?'

'Uh , no, I don't think it would go down that well if I turned up to meetings in a pimped Saab'

'What about Mum's ?'

' Chap, how do you go about pimping an Astra estate ?'

Thanks a bunch Westwood. Can't wait to get a call from school to find out he's called his god fearing teacher a badass ho.

Dumbing down ?

A level results yet again see an increase in A grades and pass rates

A girl pictured on the front of The Times today acheived 10 A grades. TEN ?! How the hell can you take ten A levels ? I took three back in '86. History, English Lit and Economics, and it was bloody hard work. I didn't get brilliant results as I decided that playing rugby and chasing skirt was far more enjoyable than studying, but still had a full week. Thirty five periods in a week. Take out six for games and three for 'study' periods, about eight a week per subject. So in this girls case, around three a week. How on earth can you learn enough about a subject to be examined two years later by only studying it for a couple of hours each week ?

I am sick to the back teeth of Muslims/Islam. I'm not racist, I'm certainly religionist (?) especially when it involves mass murder and bigotry in the name of your God. I don't support our involvement in Afghanistan or Iraq for reasons previously stated, which are very different reasons than those of Muslims. What I really don't get is their view of their own importance as a minority, and why there views need to be addressed. The adverts recently published in national newspapers were a shocker. I don't agree with our current foreign policy, but in a country of some 65 million inhabitants, a minority of 1.5 million suggesting or demanding that our democratically elected government changes its foreign policy is just plain daft. The view that they are being vicitimised is also wrong. The recent atrocities, and if we are to believe the current position, planned atrocities are the work of young Asian muslims, and the security services are damned right to concentrate their investigations on this group of people. For fuck's sake, were not worried by the radicalised faction of the Welsh Baptist shoe bombers chapter are we ? And as for intigration, don't even get me started. if you visit an Arab muslim country the respect of their religion is demanded, not expected. If these people want to come and live in this country, and have families in this country, its about time they bloody well integrated. Islam is not the religion of Great Britain, and Sharia Law is not the law of the land, how about a big portion of wake the fuck up, because the only people causing any kind of racial divide in our country our the Muslims themselves.

Not very well put across, but I've now got to the point of being a tad cheesed off. Just come out and say that what is happening is not acceptable, and as leaders within our community we are going to help the authorities in every way we can, with no strings attached. Otherwise we are fully aware we can live in Iran, Saudi, Afghanistan or Syria, (probably not Iraq, because we're a bit scared of that, we're allowed to do just as we please here )
And next time we get these illegal demonstrations threatening and glorifying death in the name of their prophit, will the police kindly break it up like they did with the miners, who only wanted a job.

Are they bored ?

They must be if the leaked report of the new transport plans are to be believed. I am not a ranting pro car nerd a la Clarkson ( although he does make me giggle ) but I do need a car for work. It needs to be half decent, to portray a certain image to clients, but not flash, portraying the wrong image. It needs to be big enough to carry the boys and the associated crap that goes with it, and I like a reasonable turn of speed. Like everyone else (apart from the peasant under class who don't give a toss) I pay insurance, road tax and fuel duty, a fairly tidy sum to the treasury each year. So why the fuck are they considering a plan to charge by the mile on all roads. To get people on public transport ? Bollocks, it won't work. I can't use trains, what's the point, I'd always have to use a car at either end of the journey, they're bloody expensive and they're usually broken. I generally have meetings with my main client once a week which is a 102 mile round trip, takes about an hour each way. If the figure of £1.34 per mile is accurate this trip will cost me £136.68 a week, or six and a half grand a year allowing for holidays. Six and a half grand a year to visit one company with fuel on top. It doesn't take a genius to figure out just how retarded this is. And the real stupidity is that they know people will continue to use their cars, and will sit in them cursing the new charges, but knowing that they have to use the car. Total lunacy and another cunty way to squeeze yet more tax out of us.

Retard boy

Fab few days in Italy, in the mountains above Lake Como. I love the lakes, stunning scenery, although you need to ring the bank for a mortgage top up to go out to dinner. Great times catching up with my best buddie from school days who now lives in hong Kong. His two boys are a few years older than ours, but they all got on famously. We camped in the garden of his folks house, and their hospitality was superb. They were completely unfazed by the invasion of four loud little boys and two blokes who should know better getting two years worth of drinking crammed into four nights. It really was great to see him, we've known each other since we were ten, shared dorms, studies and then a flat after leaving school, and although we don't see each other for a few years at a time nothing changes.

I excelled myself on the way back and got the flight times wrong. Oops. A hundred euro taxi trip to brescia airport, two hundred and forty to rearrange the flights, and one very stroppy wife who eventually spoke to me as we drove into the village. Actually she did call me a twat at the check in desk, but that was her final word for ten hours. There's an upside to everything then.

Still very angry about Afghanistan, and have a sense of 'what the fuck ?' about Lebanon. Its odd how Isreal can do what the fuck it likes without any international condemnation. Okay, they had two soldiers kidnapped, but talk about a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. What if the IRA kidnapped two British soldiers in the 70's and we bombed the crap out of Dublin as a response ? Madness.

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

I've built something ! A pony shed, a great big fucking thing. I've also cooked a damn mighty fine dinner. 7 hours, I shit you not,7 hours, and it's not finished. I will tell you, for I am mullered, good vino mind, but for now, rest assured, I've made an ass and a pony tres happy. Yabba yabba yaaba, I'm knackered. I will tell more, it's groovy, trust me

A harsh but true undeniable fact of life - if its got tits its a problem

When you've got small kids, mother's day is a double whammy. Not only do you have to make sure you get a card to your own mother, you also have to sort out the mother of your children. C & J had made cards at playgroup and school, but I thought it would be a bit tight to raid their savings for a present, so that fell to me. The smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, yep, me. I find it a bit like valentines day, contrived and a bit American.
C had a boiled goose egg and soldiers for his breakfast. The thing was fucking huge, it must hurt like hell to force one of those buggers out, no wonder geese are always stroppy, they must have permanent ring sting, whichever ring it passes out of. Boiled it for ten minutes and it still had a yummy runny yolk. He was hugely impressed.

Why is it, that when the uber chave reaches the age of, say seventeen, the thing it most covets is a shitty moped/bike that sounds like a shagged out turbo haidryer. A couple of retards in the village have taken delivery of a pair of clapped out piles of shite which must be vampires, because they only come out in the hours of darkness. Its not that they ride them quickly, because its not mechanically possible, but the noise irritates the crap out of me. Its like the crazy frog amplified, ring a ding ding ding ding. Could forensics trace it back to me if I rig up some kind of remote control clotheslining device ? Sorely tempted. I have no idea where these tools live, and I don't think they have any idea of how twattish they look. It's like a line up for the X chav factor, all crap shiny tracksuits, baseball caps and zits.

Good to see the dour Scotsman has sorted out global warming in the new budget. If I had a 50 grand motor doing 15 to the gallon I'd shit my pants with the new road fund licience. 210 quid, quick, flog it and get a prius or its the poor house for us. Tit

I ache, badly, still. Last Wednesday I decided it was time to start doing some exercise again after none (apart from a bit of golf which doesn't count) for ages.

So I turned up at the village badminton club. Two hours. I was shagged out, pulled a calf muscle and my groin. Feeble. It's wierd to see people you know on an aquaintance basis in a sporting concept, particularly when you wrongly guessed that they would have the sporting ability of an uncoordinated lemur as they spank your arse.Enyoyed it tho'

If you havent already, watch the David Gilmour concert on Radio 2's website, it's the ducks nuts.

The least said about rugby the better. Drawing with Italy at home, pile of wank. A small smirk watching Les Rosbifs get a caning down Paris way.

I do recall around this time last year a cry of 'I am Welsh and I am mighty'. Change to 'I am Welsh and I might have a nice new wooden spoon to stir my stew with'

Back to work. It's a bit bizzare after so much time at home, but it's time to start earning again. It's a good set up, a decent office in a converted farmhouse opposite a golf course. My largest client from the old company is still giving me regular business and prospects for more work look good.
The time spent at home was fantastic. C is at school,but to spend the amount of time I had with little J was a joy. He and A popped in to see me yesterday (home is only 10 minutes away, another bonus) and when they left he looked up and said 'Daddy, come home right now please'. I don't think he's got it yet.
Parents evening tonight. Should be interesting. C's teacher is a proper god botherer, and we've never really seen eye to eye. Should be the same old, agree that he's doing fine and then start arguing over the school's lack of competitive sport.

Long time no blog.

A great few months spent at home but work beckons. New premises found, clients primed and the move in the offing. Bugger.

The last few months have been groovy, loads of good times with A and the boys, particularly J, as he's still at home. Lots of big walks around the river, stories and general larking around. Plenty of cooking, have lost weight due to not eating shite at lunchtime, verging on the buff, no, it's true.

Blody great innit