Anything, Anywhere But Under Sufferance

Frankie Boyle's comments have sparked some debate this week. If you don't know the story, then the ginger haired lovechild of a Proclaimer and Rasputin, who nose seems to extort an inordinate gravitational pull on his features, decided that Katie Price's disabled child Harvey was a good topic for a joke or two on his Tramadol Nights TV show. So, its come to this has it? Accusing disabled children of attempting to rape their mother, to get a laugh? This is no "Pro Katie & Peter" rant, believe me, that sycophantic, silicone induced tart gets a lot of what she deserves, but I don't think any parent, regardless of who they are should be forced to listen to someone doing that, for entertainment purposes only. Boyle however won't care. His argument will be, if it is funny it is funny. Tough. Don't listen if you don't want to. Its hard to argue against that. Censorship in comedy doesn't work. The best comedy is edgy, funny and hard hitting. Howeve...

Whisper it quietly, but Atheism is so last year. You can barely pick up a Sunday supplement these days without the book review section containing some polemic against religion. Dawkins, Hitchens and co's swelling ranks of non-believers have found a voice and an audience but, by God (or not), they just won't shut up will they? Every review of anything literary that analyses the question of religion or belief always ends up with some cautionary tale of the dangers of aggressive atheism. These deranged psychopaths with their out-of-the-box non-beliefs, stating their points of view in a VERY agitated manner! Well, that is not just the done thing is it! Let's stick a Fatwah on their heads. Indeed reading these reviews makes enjoyable reading for the utter banality of it all. Rather than take issue with the points raised, the issue now seems to be to take issue with how the point is raised. Yeah, we know you think God doesn't exist, but do you have to be so rude about it...

I don't profess to have any great ear for music. My attempts to bang a tune out of a piano range from mildly-ineffective to outrageously offensive. Despite that, I know what I like and my tastes have a wide range. So here are 25 of my favourite songs that may not be top of your hit parade, but which should be. Chiefly because, all of them are brilliant for one reason or another. 1. Words - The Doves - My sister got me into this album a while back and while the other songs didn't catch my ear, this one did. It has also been used as the music on Match of the Day I think a few years back. A superb song, great melody and simple tune that is catchy from the moment you hear it. Think Coldplay's 'Clocks', only better. 2. Life in a Northern Town - Dream Academy - A truly haunting and lyrical song which is stunningly evocative for a variety of reasons. It may hanker to a bygone era, with the gentle bassoon giving it a kind of "Emmerdale Farm" when Annie Sugden was ...

In a blog post a while back, I moaned on about a visit from some misguided Jehovah's Witnesses (I feel confident in making that assertion now after speaking to my friend, who assured me they were not weird enough to be Mormons). However, in terms of toasting on God's eternal bottom-spike of damnation, they are safe, because way before them in the queue will be cold-calling energy company salesmen, the like of whom have passed my way in recent times. Now, I do not wish to tar everyone who does this with the same brush. I have had a lot of callers, haven't we all? But not all of them have been like the people I will go on to describe. Others are happy to accept what I say and leave with a smile. It is not they that this tirade is against. Christ knows, it is a thankless job. But cretins like I met today, make it that way. It started with, as usual, a ring on the doorbell. Awaiting several postal deliveries for Christmas presents, I didn't take a peek out of the window bef...

I have a very odd relationship with clothes. Of course, they are a necessity. The very thought of me bumbling around the locality in the buff is plainly alarming. The thought of everyone else doing so fills me with a combination of peculiar interest and utter dread. Remember, for every Catherine Zeta-Jones, there are 20 Gillian McKeith's. It isn't their inherent importance that baffles me, but more the importance placed upon them by some people and not wishing to make an offensive and unfounded sweeping generalisation here but... ... I think if you judge someone on how they are dressed, then you are a complete arse of the highest order. For me, clothes are entirely functional. Fashion doesn't enter into my criteria. Now those who know me, and who are particularly cruel/astute (delete as appropriate) would no doubt venture the opinion : "Ha! But that's because you are such a wobble-monster that you can't find stuff to fit you!" And while this isn't stri...

I'm blogging this now just a few minutes after it happened as it was one of the happiest moments of my life. I have seen the light. Working away upstairs, the doorbell went and thinking it was the postman, I scuttled down the stairs, told the dogs to hush and opened the porch door to be met with shadows. Two of them, one tall, one short, one male and one female. Both well dressed. I knew who it was going to be before I regrettably opened the door to be met with two cheery faces and with a question along the lines of "Do you ever think we are going to have true happiness in the world for everyone?" I was feeling quite chipper this morning. My cold is easing off and I am hoping to go the gym later and for a swim. I'd just finished a bit of work and so I decided to see what they were on about, rather than feign some important work-related issue to facilitate my closing the door immediately on them. I discovered their names were Dale and Lesley. Dale was the chap, a tall ...

Here are all the questions from "The Good Book" all answered fulsomely in as much detail as you ever need to know, and I should know, Descartes told me. 1. What Happens when I drop an Ant? A. It looks for another life-partner. Lets face it, it isn't going to be stuck for choice and most of them are going to be better looking. 2. Why is the Pole Vaulting World Record about 6.5 metres and why can't it be broken? A. Because the laws of physics say so. Besides, it is so fantastically dull and pointless as a sport, most people would prefer to eat one of their own lungs or watch crown green bowls than sit through three hours of barely pronouncable foreigners boinging about the screen. 3. If you could go back in time to any period in history, when would it be and why? A. The moment of creation, so I could come back later and say "See? I told you so." 4. Are you Cool? A. No, I've a jumper on and the central heating is up a little too high. 5. If there was an omn...

I've been spitting mad of late. Not through any great misfortune that has happened, but because of a simple book. Like many people, my time for reading is always bed time. It always has been ever since I can remember. I am too busy and focused on other things during the day to read, even on holiday, but of a night I can happily while away a sleepless hour devouring a book. Unfortunately, one of the books I am reading at the moment, has caused me to start having an involuntary form of literary Tourettes. I read a chapter and then at the end of it, intone "cock-dribble" or "arse-guffage" before starting the next a tad angrier than before. The book that is causing me so much angst is a book called "Do you think you're clever" by someone called John Farndon. Initially, I assumed he was the singer who had a hit with "You're the Voice" and in many ways, had he written the book, it may have been a tad easier to digest. Unfortunately for John...

What do you think of Apple? Do you love your iPod, iPad, iPhone? Are you a Mac convert? Are you one of the increasing number of single (they are always single, usually wearing glasses and an inane grin) masturbatory technosouls, who wets themselves at the opening of a new Apple shop and queues overnight to get your hands on their latest, overprice technological masterstroke? I have to admit, where Apple score highly is in design. All the Apple products look rather polished and rather attractive. Compared to a Mac, most PC's resemble and 1970s Volvo estate. The iPhone design has been flagrantly copied by other companies (though at least the antenna works on theirs) and the iPod is a thing of beauty. Even I've got one of those, although this necessitated a trip to the Apple store the other week. Now to get this, I had to phone Apple customer support, where I waited for a Dutch lady to tediously, yet cheerfully, go through all the things I had done on the website previously before...

My wife has made a gastronomic error of calamitous proportions. It all started innocently enough a couple of weeks ago. Feeling a little below par, Katharine indulged herself in a pot of Nutella Chocolate Spread to spread thickly over a few pieces of toast. It was comfort food of the highest order and considering we've been living off badger food for the past six-months, she felt that she could allow herself this minor frivolity. Now, until such time as she bought this item, I had no great love for chocolate spread. In actual fact, the very notion confused me. Chocolate on toast? Why? Why not just ditch the toast and have chocolate? Chocolate and bread do not go. In the same way as pineapple on Pizza doesn't go (I've checked with the Pizza bosses, and it doesn't - that's the final word) or having Ice Cream in your Tortilla just looks silly and makes your chicken wish it had its feathers back. I watched in confused bewilderment as she tucked heartily into the toast. ...

I am beginning to dread car journeys with my children. In the good old days, the most we had to concern ourselves with was perhaps a nappy that needed changing, perhaps the occasional redecoration of the car interior via the medium of the contents of Jess's stomach, the usual bouts of arguing and fighting or the quiet request to stop for a wee because they are absolutely bursting, approximately twenty minutes after you have left the last service station. Fortunately, the CD player was a bastion of adult respectability. Well, I say that, my wife does have rather 'middle of the road' taste in Music. Billy Joel, Bucks Fizz, Brotherhood of Man and recently, Michael Buble. Pretty much anyone who begins with 'B' really, though even she drew the line at Bros. However with me driving and staking my claim to manhood, my choice of CD's were often the ones littering the car, upsetting my wife and keeping us entertained on our journeys. Not any more. After spending the vast...

I don't understand duty free shops. At all. I'm yet to fathom the origin of the hysterical reaction in some that allows them to wave their boarding pass in orgasmic delight in the face of a confused foreign shop assistant, while spending a stupid amount of money on enough alcohol to pickle the livers of the sheep population of New Zealand, or on cigarettes plentiful enough to turn your lungs into heaving, viscous globs of tar. Oh and perfume. You can buy perfume. You can also buy perfume on the plane too. And sunglasses. I don't know about you, but when I need perfume for someone or sunglasses, my first thought isn't "book a flight somewhere...". Why do they think people will take leave of their senses and think "Here I am, stuck in an airport miles from anywhere, what I really need now is four litres of Paco Rabanne and enough crap toys to keep Taiwan in business for the next millennia"? The chocolate is the worst however. It is always stupidly expe...

It seems appropriate to post this here, I wrote this for a travel website a while back now and I thought those of us going away on holiday shortly may enjoy reading it, or not as the case may be... FOR THE SAFETY NOT SANITY OF PASSENGERS Going away on a long awaited holiday can be amongst the highlights of the year. Once the trip has been sorted you count the months, weeks and then days until the day of departure finally dawns amidst a sea of hastily packed suitcases and excited chatter. Often this can be the best part of the holiday, knowing that the day to day drudgery of work can be forgotten for a week or two and that stretching out in front of you is two weeks of much anticipated bliss. You cannot fail to be in a good mood as you fling your suitcase into the taxi and sit amongst the excited babbling of friends and loved ones. And then you get to the airport. Douglas Adams once remarked that you seldom hear the comparative “as beautiful as an airport” for in as much as these gat...

As you may now, I play golf. A lot. Usually quite badly. Occasionally the golfing gods may be kind and permit me a decent round or two, but this is far from certain whenever I tee the ball up, take out a club and attempt to thump the ball down the fairway (or hook/slice it into the trees, which is more usually the result of my efforts) My friend Ian and I have been playing a fair bit this year. Losing weight and the resulting improvement in my back, has resulted in me replacing my trips to the fridge and sweetie shop, with trips to the course and driving range. This is indubitably more expensive, but while it is costing me £s it is saving me lbs. We've been playing most weeks now, sometimes twice a week, since April/May time and we've both seen improvements in our game. For me that means I am shooting less in the 90's and more in the 80's, on one memorable occasion a 79. Ian's improvement has been even more dramatic. But to put that into context I have to expl...