I went, the other day to pay a speeding fine. Of course, I wasn’t actually speeding, but I did wonder why the trees were going by so fast (how come they never got a ticket?).

Anyway

Whilst waiting for the penalty points to be added to my licence at this particular government office, I noticed they had a suggestion box. Naturally I had one or two in mind, though nothing I would want to put in print, and certainly nothing that would have been possible without the official bending over and gritting their teeth whilst I looked for an umbrella; but I noticed, there was no paper in the slot below the suggestions box.

That tells you all you need to know about that.

I peered into the box itself and could see one torn piece of paper, ripped out of what looked like a telephone directory. On it, I could just make out what had been written.

It said, or may I say, suggested, ‘why don’t you provide some paper to write on, you stupid bastards.’

Quite.

 

The US Geological Survey (USGS) estimates that there are ninety billion barrels of oil yet to be plundered, I mean tapped, in the Arctic. Naturally, with so much of the planet being raped and pillaged for its resources, many environmental groups have voiced their concerns about the effect this discovery will have on wildlife.

The USGS says the area has three times as much untapped natural gas as oil.

The Arctic holds 13% of the world's undiscovered oil, 30% of the undiscovered natural gas, 20% of the undiscovered natural gas liquids and 99% of the ice cubes used in the fizzy piss MacDonald’s call a Coke.

 Despite the concerns of the environmental groups and several polar bears that were seen packing their bags, I have complete faith in the integrity of the oil companies not to put profit before the general wellbeing of every living thing on the planet.

In the meantime, in another news story, the CIA have said they have reliable intelligence information that Nanook of the North has been stockpiling Weapons of Mass Destruction cunningly disguised as fish.

 

Prince William is on a two month training course with the navy. We are told he will be on the HMS Iron Duke intercepting drugrunners in the Caribbean.

Why can’t he just buy his drugs off some guy in the pub like the rest of the young men his age?

Perhaps I’m missing something...
 

Just a thought...

If something isn't worth the life of the over privileged, why should it be worth the life of the under privileged?

Late Saturday, a warm night. The humidity hung like a mugger. I picked up four people from the Midland Hotel. They wanted a taxi to Stalybridge, or StalyVegas as it is otherwise known locally. It has a reputation for being somewhat rough at night, but luckily for me, my passengers were nothing of the sort. They were pleasantly drunk, having been to a wedding reception. They were still laughing over the speech the best man gave.

After a somewhat long and tedious monologue, it ended something like this:

‘…and as for the groom, well, I’ve known him for years and it’s about time some lucky lady made an honest man out of him. The only thing I’d like to add to that is that I hope you have a great honeymoon in Wales.’

There were a few laughs at that, because everyone knew the bride and groom were going to spend their honeymoon in France. The best man, looking a little confused said, ’you are going to Wales aren’t you?’

‘No,’ said the groom,’ we’re off to France.’

‘But you told me you were going to Wales.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You did. You said after the wedding, you were going to Bangor for a month.’

... think about it.


 

Been thinking about death a lot recently. Nothing morbid you understand. I just think it's a good idea to look it in the face once in a while.

I've come to the conclusion that it isn't all that bad after all.

Mind you, the hours you have to put in to make it work are a bit excessive.

Man, what a mess. I just passed a building that was covered in graffiti. I know some people regard it as street art, but to me this is like calling a dog turd on the pavement, street fertilisation. I do admit I am perhaps being a little harsh on the work of some people who are no doubt well intentioned and see their endeavours as art. The graffiti we see on buildings, some say, comes from the same impulse as that which resulted in the cave paintings that have fascinated archaeologists throughout the years.

Perhaps, in years to come, when our civilisation has fallen to dust and myth, and two thousand years hence, an archaeologist will uncover an old building, once part of an ancient city. He will shine his torch at an old, crumbling wall, and see what the remains of something sprayed on a wall; the marks of a human being long dead, the sole representative of what was once a proud civilisation. The archaeologist of the future will run his hands over it in awe at his discovery.

He will stand back and look in wonder at the brickwork, this relic of the dead past, a connection to us, the long dead. And just like the men who stumbled upon the cave paintings of prehistory he will stand back and say...

‘This wall is amazing... but some wanker has sprayed paint all over it.’

This strikes me as being just a little bit embarrassing. NASA, or some such space agency, I don’t know, it might be Thunderbirds, are sending a song into space. They are transmitting a song by the Beatles. It’s called ‘Across The Universe.’ What is the point in this. Is this supposed to represent mankind? I just wonder, if an alien intelligence hears it, what will they think. We are represented by John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr; that is, a guy who was shot by some arsehole, a tight fisted billionaire, a rather nice dead bloke with spiritual leanings and a guy with a big nose who is the voice of Thomas The Tank Engine.

Great.

I can imagine the aliens listening to this song thinking, ‘well, we’ve seen the state the planet is in, and what we can’t figure out is why they are transmitting this, and not a S.O.S. In fact, it reminds me of that tune we picked up from Rome; the one where that guy played the fiddle as Rome burned.’

Our technological advances mean we can transmit our stupidity throughout the universe.

Personally, until we can get our shit together I think we should just keep it to ourselves.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse visiting death and destruction upon our heads is a rather startling thought; but completely wrong. We are doing the job for them with plastic bags and deodorants and countless brands of toilet cleaner and cheap holiday flights.

If the Horsemen do come, they will be on a cheap long haul flight, with delightfully scented armpits and drinking toilet duck out of plastic cups.

Personally, I don't think they will visit death and destruction and plague and famine and pestilence and war upon us. I mean, we do that already, don't we. In fact, we could give them tips on how to do it properly. They would be just wasting their time and it's quite possible they would catch something incurable off a toilet seat, so why take the risk.

God, assuming there is one, wouldn't be so cruel as to send the Four Horsemen to Earth; and besides, He wouldn't want them picking up any nasty habits off us, would He.

Apparently…

Omar, (pictured) the son of Bin Laden wants a ‘peace role.’ I was quite surprised when I read it first and assumed he had been misquoted. I thought what he actually wanted was a profiterole, but he does indeed want a role in what he describes as being an ‘"ambassador for peace" between Muslims and the West. The cynic in me was somewhat sceptical about Omar Osama Bin Laden's statement. He has, after all refused to condemn his father for the attack on the twin towers. This is, so we are told, because a son always loves his father no matter what he does.

I can understand that in most cases but, come on. It's not as if Osama Bin Laden forgot that his son wanted a bike for Christmas and got him a pack of plastic explosives instead. His father kills people to make a point. Omar has got to be seriously deluded if he doesn't get this.

But, then I thought, who am I to cast aspersions on the motives of anyone who speaks of greater understanding between the East and the West.

Indeed, with the cause of Peace in mind, he is planning to organise a 3,000 endurance horse race across Africa in March. Teams from around the world will be invited to take part in what could be seen as a horse version of the Paris-Dakar car rally which was cancelled this year due to threats from al-Qaeda.

Is Omar worried about the threat?

When asked about this he said, ‘I don't think they are going to stop me.’ He, rather courageously, refuses to be intimidated by al-Qaeda. This is no doubt a measure of his dedication to peace between the East and West and, oh yes… his dad runs al-Qaeda. I expect there is some clause in the al-Qaeda membership pack like this: Clause Eight; Sub-section 3: please note, it is not permissible to blow my son's arse off his horse with a rocket, unless, of course he converts to Judaism.’

Rather confusingly, judging by the dreadlocks Omar is sporting in the picture above, he may be thinking of converting to Rastafarianism. This is good. He may stand a chance of chilling his dad out over a few cans of Red Stripe and a big fat joint.

Or maybe not.

Horse riding, by the way, happens to be the all time favourite hobby of Omar. This is great. I think we should all start a ‘Hobbies for Peace’ movement, inspired by the noble ideal of Omar. Of course not all of us are the sons of wealthy men who can indulge ourselves in playing cowboys and Indians on our favourite mount. Speaking of which, it was whilst he was horse riding that he met his English born wife.

Excuse me.

For a moment or two there I felt my cynicism rising to the fore.

But seriously, Omar…

Where’s your dad?