Better days

Today is not a good day. I have left too many things go far too late in the week and consequently I have more than one tits up situation entirely of my own making. I also have to work most of the weekend and already have two weekends booked for work in May. Theres me thinking that being self employed was about flexibilty, it is, all about being flexible around your clients ! This also means that I will miss Gloucester aiming to win the league, and as we're working in Wiltshire, probably be out of range off bbc radio glos, which is all a further embuggerance. I also foolishly agreed to play squash again tonight even though my shoulder is aching from playing last night and I would rather have a few glasses of something white and cold watching Chaos at the Chateau ( my current guffaw out loud watch, gutwrenchingly awful people).

I am a big old sack of laughs today

I'm old and smell of wee

39 yesterday, one to go before the dreaded. I don't want to be 40, I don't really know why, but I just don't. Can you get treatment for an irrational fear of being 40 ?

Couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the day, watching C playing in his last game of the season. Bit of a hike to Sutton Coldfield, but they finished second in their group, played some excellent rugby, all thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and all got a medal. I'm so chuffed that he's enjoyed his first season. rugby's been a big part of my life, and although I wouldn't force any sport on the boys, I would have been gutted if they hadn't taken to the game. J can start next season which should be interesting as he's bloody quick, if a little small, and there's no substitute for raw gas. C has got a proper end of season dinner in a few weeks, shirt & tie job, and there's a bar for the dads, should be a good night, they're a good group of kids. He's made new friends as noone else from his school plays rugby, they're all mad keen on football, which he's still playing every week and enjoying. Its probably his last game for the club if we move in the summer. its been a good start for him, and its made me very proud.

I'm still old tho', but I don't really smell of wee

Summer's here...

...and I'm a happy boy. Even happier if I had time to play golf in the sunshine. We've started the countdown, 58 days to Samui and two weeks of guaranteed gloriousness

Arse

Just had a quick trawl on t'interweb and discovered that the muppet whose house we tried to buy sold it at auction for 25 grand less than we had offered three weeks previously. That not only makes him a wanker, but a thick wanker as well.

We'll be lucky to have any roof over our heads at all if number 2 boy continues his antics. The little sod managed to set fire to his bedroom over the weekend. Pretty impressive even by his accomplished wrecking standards. Luckily his rather more sensible brother wasn't too far away and managed to grab me before the fire brigade needed to be informed. I wouldn't recommend his strategy on starting a fire - say nothing and hide underneath your duvet. His pre school head teacher claims that he's ' incredibly bright'. I wonder, I really do wonder.

Lard & Lunacy

We foolishly spent bank holiday Friday at Bristol zoo along with half of the population of Bristol and South Wales. The boys enjoyed it, but I don't think we'll go again, I didn't think many of the enclosures were big enough for the animals. I have never seen so many fat people in one place. Really proper fat, not just a bit of a belly. Whole families of Mum Dad and kids busting out of their clothing. We seem to be catching up with the Yanks as a nation of true porkers. There is something about really overweight people that sort of bugs me, it's almost that it strikes me as a sort of laziness. But, on the other hand, if they're happy with their bodies and their health, my opinion's not really worth a wank, but I know that I wouldn't want to be that size.

This crazy situation of serving forces men and women being allowed to sell their stories of captivity, is just that, crazy. I truly believe that the rest of the world looks up to our armed services as a beacon of professionalism, but this has made them look more than a tad foolish. Yes, they got captured and locked up for a few days, and I'm sure it wasn't pleasant, but they weren't tortured and they're not dead. Quite how the situation made them 'heroes' I don't know.
Apart from the fact that they shouldn't be allowed to sell their 'story' what the fuck is there to know that hasn't already been released through military channels , and why do they feel the need to share this with us through the tabloid press ? My Grandad fought in North Africa during the secon world war. He was a teeneager, and boys that he grew up with from a small town in Mid Wales are buried in the sands. He was injured, he was decorated for gallantry, but he has never once spoken about it to anyone apart from my Grandmother when he first came home. He doesn't participate in British Legion events, he never attends a remberance service, but he understands why others would want to, its his way of trying to put it behind him. I wonder what he thinks of these men and woman, but I wouldn't like to ask

Ruuuuuuuuuuuun

I think I must have had a dodgy crab last night as brown water has been running out of my arse on a regular basis all day. Feel like shite (boom boom) not eaten, but keeping the fluids up. Probably too much information, but who doesn't enjoy a good shit ? Unfortunately these are bad shits and my belly kills. Still, I'd rather have a good shit than a bad blow job

As long as we beat the English, we don't care

Kelly Jones' words not mine, I want to beat everyone, but realistically, if your having a shite season the one to win is England at home. We gave them a right tonking, but it should have been more, especially if Ickle Shane could learn to pass as well as run. The atmosphere in the stadium was a good as I can remember for years, the singing was fantastic. At one point just before half time the dirge that is Swing Low just about got to the end of the first line when it was drowned out by a rousing Hymns and Arias. For the first time for a while both team and crowd seemed up for it, but then, it was only England, and lets not forget that they are also a little bit crap as well. I moved in elevated circles that day, sharing a car to Cardiff with the British ambassador to Argentina, bizarre.
Still trying to get tickets for the world cup quater finals in Marseille, not that its a banker that Wales or England will get that far. The official ticketing website is a pile of chimp jiz. A few of us have registered for information since November, but nada, jack. Every time you try to buy tickets that are 'Available for general sale now !' you get to the press the button part to be told, not available. Its starting to become tiresome, I really could do with a weekend on the lash with the guys, its something we used to do a few times a season, and its on the wane since we all became middle aged and sensible. Marseille in the Autumn seemed to be the ideal opportunity to rediscover our talents for quaffing industrial amounts of cheap red wine and forcing each other to eat oysters without barfing.

Odds & sods

Thank god that rains gone. One end of our village was cut off for a week, the bridge I drive over every day to go to work, sods law. This is the lockkeepers mode of transport for a week, about a quarter of a mile row to his cottage. Still, the sun is now glorious, the daffs are out and the Cheltenham festival is upon us. No ticket this year, but the wonder of modern technology allows me to make my usual losses sat at my desk thanks to Messrs W Hill.

More sporting losses to come at the weekend as I wait to hear if I've been succesfull in securing a ticket to see Wales finally get the wooden spoon. Its only two short years since a post proclaimed ' I am Welsh & I am mighty', the next will probably be 'I am Welsh and I'm going to take up tiddlywinks'.

One or two things are yanking my plank at the moment. The new version of blogger is shite. The reason for infrequent posting is that the bastard thing rarely allows me even to get as far as the log in page, and then it runs as slowly as a Welsh prop. We're going to stick our house on the market soon, and we're registered to buy with vast amounts of agents in the areas we're looking to move to, but we're getting fuck all sent through. Useless tossers in the main. Forget about the lockkeeper pic as above, blogger refuses to upload it. time to turn on the radio and see which of my chosen nags is running backwards

New & improved

Blogger finally forced me to switch to new blogger by not allowing me to log in to old blogger. I then had to create a Google account which kept crashing and took ages. Logging in is a bit hit and miss, the page takes ages to come up. New, but not improved.

Shite weekend, A & I both had the lurgy. Had to cancel squash on Saturday, and jib out of a party which probably would have been a tidy piss up. Sunday was better, Boy 1 captained his team to an 8 tries to 3 victory scoring a brace himself. He got covered in mud and thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Number 2 continues his bizarre antics. For ages he's insisted on being butt naked to have a dump. We've been trying to dissuade him over the last few months as he starts school in September and we're trying to convince him that this won't be regarded as normal behaviour. He's also taken to drawing over random surfaces which is a new one.

we've been househunting for two weeks. I'd rather do my VAT return.

The Green Green Grass of Home

Its taken a while, but I've finally calmed down. How shite were Wales on Saturday. Scotland are a piss poor attempt at a rugby team, so quite what that makes us I do not know. If we continue to play like this we're going to struggle to win a game, wooden spoon here we come. From Grand Slam to this in two seasons, fuck me backwards with a spoon.

Still, I am now one half of the Pershore & District Mens Badminton Doubles Champions. Go me. Agents beating a path to my door, fame and fortune beyond my wildest dreams beckon.

That bloody holiday can't come soon enough...................

Wahay !

I love snow, just for a day or so, couldn't live with it all the time. Woke up yesterday to pristine whiteness. School was closed, so I copped a skive and we all went sledging. Fantastic day, J is so light that he went down the hill like greased weasel shit, totally fearless. The boys built a snowman in the garden, and plenty of snowball fights were had. Its chucking it down again today.

Real player is now pissing me off to the nth degree. England v Australia is coming down to the wire in a cracking finish and all I can hear is dalek

Thieving sods

How the fuck do you get away with doubling the price of something overnight ? That's exactly what that morose twat Gordon Brown done with air taxes. Now I know that something has to be done before the ozone layer goes and we all die of sunburn, but surely taxation can't be the answer to all of our woes. Apparently its going to raise an extra one billion annually which is going to go towards public transport. Is this the right diversion of funds ? I thought public transport was covered through other revenue streams. It smacks of the typical mismanagement which has been a feature of this useless bunch of corrupt, self serving wankers tenure of office. It'll will probably end up being spent on another computer system that won't work, but the chairman of the company that wins the contract will get a nice comfy red seat in the Lords, or they'll build a nationwide group of drop in centres for one legged muslim lesbians, and the roads will still be pot holed donkey tracks that take a half a lifetime to travel on, and buses and trains will still stink of old womans piss, be full to bursting, cost the gdp of a small African nation to travel on and always be fucking late.
All grammatically incorrect, but I've made my point.

Blowing a hoolie

Its not cool to talk about the weather, but jeez, I'm sick of this. Its not cold but I am bored of the pissing rain and howling winds. Lets have more global warming, I like living in shorts and a tee shirt.

Utter hilarity watching that thick scouse munter with the vile plastic tits on cbb and listening to her comment on not being able to understand Shilpa because of her accent. Pot. Kettle. Black. Moose.

hmmm

Not sure that old blogger is saving posts, perhaps I should go to the new version. I am such a retard luddite, I can't beleive I actually used to sell technology for a living, good job it was a concept sale. I'm in the process of uploading a load of stuiff onto an MP3 player I've bought for the boy's birthday. Either I'm doing something wrong, or it takes an awfully long time to get a cd onto the bastard thing.

What a kerfuffle over celeb big brother. It's not racist, it's just three poorly educated peasants not knowing how to react to a person who is totally alien to them. I don't think you can accuse them of racism just because they're as thick as pig shit. The Goody family, ay caramba, pure fucking trash. The mother really should have been prevented from breeding, and as for Jack introducing himself as a football agent, christ I know some footballers are dense, but you'd have to be in a near vegetative state to let that chimp manage your affairs.

Back to the joys of the MP3...................

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.