John Paul Mohammed III

In the beginning there were the gods and the humans marvelled at their majesty, trembled at their power and shat their pants when something unexpected happened. When we couldn’t explain something we blamed it on the god of this or the goddess of that. The early gods were simple primeval beings the sun, the earth, the moon and alike. Later on we gave them areas of responsibility, nice names and even made up little stories about their parents and how they seduced fit looking mortals. It was a loose relationship which seemed to suit everyone involved.

The root of all evil is of course money and the humans burgeoning desire for wealth and power was a real turning point for religion. When mere subsistence was the be all and end all, the ways of the gods seemed far removed from your every day goat herder or dung eater. The regional wandering vagabond zealot had very little to offer the man in the street. When the amount of gold in your cellar became important suddenly the god troopers had something for sale, the salvation of your mortal soul. This was a sweet operation; no stock issues nothing to go mouldy, nothing for anyone to nick and everyone needed it. For the right price a holy man could guarantee you entrance to heaven and the killer was no one could prove otherwise.

At about the same time people decided to start writing things down and this was really good news for your religious types. Once things were on papyrus people had something to reference and if it looked old enough and official enough then it became the truth. It even got mistaken for factual history from time to time and if you’re a Looney Alaskan governor/ soccer mum it still does.  When it got really old it took on a mystical property and it became the word of god. The god squad now had a winning combo. No one could do anything without god’s say so and only the priests could give you access, but it would cost you. Usually a shed full of cash, posh frocks, somewhere nice to live with a constant flow of hot totty to keep you warm on cold starlight nights.

As life became more complicated so did the religions. They took all their little stories and put them into great big books. These books then became the corner stone of the religions. Now you would have thought that this would help make things more stable. Everyone would know the rules and following them would be a piece of cake. No such luck, there was no way this kind of power could be given to the masses so the priests pulled out their trump card “interpretation.” Only the religious big knobs could understand and interpret the word of god. Only those that were divinely blessed or who knew someone who knew someone were bequeathed with this gift. The scam was stronger than ever.

At this point in the story I think we need to clarify a few things. Faith is a beautiful thing, for someone to have absolute confidence that someone or something is looking out for them, be it a god, a friend or public body with no facts or evidence to base a reasonable decision on is both amazing and humbling. Religion demands that of its followers, but it’s run by human beings that more often than not fail the faith test with monotonous regularity. Power corrupts and absolute power is like having 12 blind men try to cross the M25 in thick fog. Impending chaos with wanton death and destruction thrown in for good measure. Science, while not a religion per say has all the characteristics of one. Flashy books, mantras and dogma, very impressive people saying complicated things that you don’t understand and a personal aversion to sexiness. The two sections of society that seem to repel the opposite sex the most are definitely priests and geeks. Science is an anti-religion but that Dawkins bloke (Not the one in the chair) is frankly the biggest plum ever. He doesn’t believe in anything unless he can prove it in an experiment. Get a life and live a little mate.

Back to the story, for the next two thousand years the world’s religions held the whip hand, wars were fought and people died on the back of warring faiths and hateful despotic leaders. Wars in general are fought for two reasons, gold and religion, both are the power to control others, the power to live in a big house and have people do stuff for you so you can get fat and get sexually gratified by whom ever and what ever you want.

The control of your mortal soul was supremely important and the religious leaders would go to any lengths to keep that power. Religions split and splintered as different factions grabbed as much power as they could. More Christians have been killed by their fellow Christians over the centuries than anyone else. The Muslims are the same, they have different factions and in Iraq and Afghanistan they spend much more time blowing up each other rather than the infidel crusaders. Why is this then? Simple - it’s all complete bollocks.

Over the last century science has gone from strength to strength and now all bets are off when it comes to religious control. Okay science has invented ways to kill millions in a single press of the button, but we at least we don’t go to war because some bloke in Rome with the silly hat on had a bad dream and he says so.

Gods were in place to explain the unexplainable, the need for us to feel we were part of something bigger and better, to reinforce our need to be the centre of the universe and to give us something to look forward to when we die. Science has replaced or dispelled a lot of this and religion is becoming more and more marginalised.

Religion is just the god system that got out of hand crossed with the human desire to get rich and lazy as fast as possible. I admit that sometimes good people got entangled in this mess. They try to do selfless generous things but they are swamped by the mire of complete tripe and rubbish. Also contrary to what they tell you godless people are just as good as anyone else. They are two completely separate concepts and being holy doesn’t make you a nice person. Religion just complicates things. If you believe in a god and an afterlife then treat others as you would want to be treated, look after the weak, help others when you can.  Do that and I reckon you should be all right.

Hercules you're going to hell for that

December marches on and everyone is focused on the best holiday of the year, you know presents in excess, drinking to excess, food to excess followed by more cold meat and pickle than you can shake a stick at. With the odd hang over and family fight thrown in for good measure obviously. The original reason for this frivolity, back in the day, was to celebrate the winter solstice, a pagan ritual; basically a bit of a party to say thank god we survived till now and any chance we could make it to spring please? Then along came Christianity and before you can say turkey and cranberry sandwiches they’d nicked it, moved it a week and got 3 clever blokes with posh presents involved. They started banging on about mangers, angels and shepherds with not a single flake of snow in sight.

All this because of the one true god rather than some plank of wood that looks like a crow, but why do we have gods, what purpose do they play? It really is much more straight forward than we make it today and I’d like to share it with you. I call it my practical guide to mythology, theology and gobbledygook.

In the beginning we were mere monkeys who picked our bums and the bugs off the backs of anyone that would have sex with us. Life was simple then; contentment was derived from blissful ignorance born of massages, cheap nookie and an abundance of fruit.  Then one day evolution brought three ingredients together that would change things forever. Opposable thumbs, a big brain and a single word, WHY? (Not sure about the question mark, but you get the idea) From that day forward everything we did was driven by the need to know, the need to understand, explain and control. This is when the gods slipped quietly onto the scene and took control.

For your average caveman who could just about fashion crude flint tools knowledge was fleeting and without any kind of language or means of communication any inspirational leap in understanding or thought was lost when the hide clad genius was either eaten by a roving beast or when he drowned in the nearby lake. There were a lot of whys then and very few answers and to bridge that chasm of unknowing, people basically made it up, blaming everything on a strange magical higher power that controlled everything. The sun was a good start and it was worshipped and feared in equal measure.

For the next few millennia people all round the world started to learn some stuff, rudimentary cooking, looking after sheep and what berries not to eat, but they didn’t amount to that much. They continued to ask lots of whys. So we continued to make shit up and why not. Hey presto the gods took major control and religious dogma was just around the corner. We started to write bits and bobs down so we didn’t forget it, but if some bloke (women weren’t trusted) who looked vaguely clever, think Charlton Heston in a beard, said something that kind of sounded right people believed it to be so. If something else happened then it was blamed on the gods. Things often went badly and death and famine stalked the land like two large stalking things (yes, I know it's Blackadder but it’s a classic). So the gods were very busy. The unclean lived in fear and would do just about anything to stay in their local god’s good books and the more bizarre the better. Nothing like sacrificing a virgin or eating cow dung just in case.

Then in areas around the world pockets of clever people appeared, in China, India, Greece and Central America to name a few. On top of asking why people started to prove why. The people in charge didn’t like being questioned and they tried to stop people asking why. This simply didn’t work because some people would still ask why even if the devil was going to stick sharp objects in their butt for eternity. Sometimes this proof was embraced and sometimes it was seen as upsetting the gods, but it often turned out particularly nasty for someone in the piece, usually the so called non believer.

This was the sign of things to come and ever since science has battled religion for the hearts and minds of the masses. Reason versus faith, proof versus dogma. In the early days religion had the upper hand, but as the science improved so the need for faith has reduced. The gods had a big head start and it took a long time for common sense to catch up. The problem was the people running the religions usually ended up with all the money and so the power because people who were about to pop their clogs would do just about anything to get into heaven. Strangely enough no matter how many peasants you had slaughtered giving all your money to a church turned out to be the sure fire way. No surprise there, but what a great scam, no one came back to disprove you and the science lot couldn’t prove anything either. So faced with three options either, A) never ending agony with the devil roasting your wedding tackle over the fires of hell. B) Rotting in a box in the ground or C) eternal bliss with your every wanton desire serviced by half naked goddess' guess what people chose.

Gods were invented to help us explain the unexplainable, to slate the unquenchable thirst for knowledge and the give us something to look forward to when we die. Nothing more than that, but like all good ideas it got completely out of hand because humans by nature are greedy, selfish and self-absorbed. These are basic animal instincts that should have been overcome by our civilisation, but I fear we have a ways to go yet

Next Religion ……

Physics, Kola Bears and Beer Goggles

November is over and as with every December thoughts turn to Christmas, you know that religious holiday, the one that worships at the altar of the great god consumerism. It’s supposedly a time of joy and good will to all men, but if that’s the case then when is the time for us to be unholy arses and horrible to a bunch of women. The universe has to have balance, there has to be a counterweight to everything, it’s the way of the world. For every good a bad and a couple of uglies thrown in for good measure.

Everything we do is based on balance, good v evil, day v night, east v west. It’s the struggle that keeps us from flying off into oblivion. They say that opposites attract and nothing could be more true. Without Darth there would be no Luke, without ying there would be no yang, without the devil there is no god, without a hole there would be no polo and without zig zag would just be another line like all the rest. Balance is so important, especially for tight rope walkers and garden Jenga players and I see this equilibrium everywhere I look.

Newton’s first law of motion states that a body will travel in a straight line and at a constant velocity unless acted upon by an external force. Which is all about balance, positive and negative, this is important for many circus acts especially those with high falls. The positive being if the tightrope walker stands still he won’t fall off unless something pushes him off, the negative being if he does fall off then gravity will ensure it hurts when he hits the ground.

Take Australia as a perfect example, the country has the best weather, it has great outdoor sports, the beaches are great, it has stunning natural beauty, the standard of living is good and people are warm and friendly. What could be better? But which country has six of the ten deadliest spiders? Some that even live in your toilet! You can’t go swimming in the lakes because the crocodiles eat you, you can’t go swimming in the sea because the sharks eat you. If you don’t get eaten by a great white then be careful as they have 2 types of jelly fish that kill you and not even pissing on yourself helps. If you decide that swimming is too dangerous and you just want to paddle in the shallow water you would think you would be safe, but no, they have a fish that looks like a stone and if you tread on it you’ll be dead in 2 hours. If the stone fish doesn’t kill you then the blue ring octopus will, it's small and quite pretty, but when it bites you all your muscles stop working and you’re toast. Get this - they have a killer shell fish that shoots you with poisoned darts.   The snakes kill you, 1 is aptly named the Death Adder, the spiders kill you, the scorpions kill you and if you annoy a kangaroo it can kill you with one kick. There is a good reason god stuck it at the bottom of world around the back. It’s where he put all his maddest creations he just gave them nice weather to make up for the awful company.

Look at Saudi Arabia, it's a large sand dune of a country that doesn’t have a single river to help sustain life. It’s unbelievably hot during the day and freezing cold in the night. In fact it’s so hot during the day that most of the animals live under ground and their snakes have devised some strange wiggling crawl thing because the sand is so hot. You can’t drink beer and if you touch a woman in public they get to give you a proper whipping for the pleasure.  Not very nice at all but to ensure balance is maintained they’ve got a stack load of oil that they sell to the rest of us to support their camel and Bentley addictions.

France is another point in question and I know I’ve mentioned it before but it needs to be said. It is a great country, warm weather for the beaches in the south, skiing in the north, good farming land in the middle, great food to eat, the best wines, cheeses, fine art, culture, history (not as good as England though, calm down) and beautiful places to visit and see. Unfortunately the people are horrible to you, unless you’re French as well. They are so beyond superior that I can’t even find a word in any language to describe them, they think that the European way is basically the French way, if not then they are out on strike. Just because they’ve got their own kissing they think they are better than the rest of us.

You see this balance in the smaller things in life as well, medicine being one. The plus side is that it makes you better, but to work it has to taste nasty. This holds true for food as well. Chocolate and alike taste nice but is bad for you, food that is bad for your waistline tastes lovely and makes you feel good but makes you look like a certain French tyre advertisement. This is why vegetables taste bad; if they tasted good then no one would have invented toffee popcorn. There has to be balance so anyone who thinks vegetables are nicer than chocolate is probably nasty to puppies all the time.

I know women are complicated creatures, but they still have to live within a balanced universe, their counter balance is of course men. Women usually have a wardrobe full of shoes, men just the ones they need. Women have an outfit for every occasion; men only have shirts and ties that match because they can buy them in a set. Women buy a house because they see the potential and how it can be changed and improved. Men buy a house because they like it. Women don’t want men to ask them what they want; they want men to surprise them and do the hoovering without being prompted. Men are just confused. Men ask for what they want, women are playing some strange opposites game that men don’t know the rules to. Beer makes women more attractive and makes men less attractive. Those are the rules and who am I to say otherwise.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction Newton said and that is just the way of things. So just remember for all this happiness in December there is a cold, wet, miserable day in April when your car will breakdown in the middle of nowhere. When the battery on your phone dies and you miss the series finale of your favourite TV show just remember you were happy before and this payback means the universe doesn’t explode in a massive fireball of death and destruction. 

Snow balls and Sangria

So as I start to pen this tome I'm a little short of things to say, basically I've been stuck inside for a few days because we've had an early winter bout of snow. The media was all a buzz with stories of freak this and abnormal that, strange sights and miracle like events, the earliest snow fall since, wait for it, 1993! I mean it's not exactly a long time is it. I haven't played an LP since 1993 and come to think of it the last time I let my hair grow long was about then as well. Perhaps there is not a lot going on in the world, one of those no news days when a cat stuck in a tree in Swindon gets on the local BBC news at 6. Perhaps not, frankly there's enough  bad news around to keep Natasha Kaplinsky at her desk for hours on end. Where do you start?

 Well south Asia is on the brink of war, the Koreans have got the hump with each other, again. You ate my dog, you ate my goat, my mass synchronised dancing is better than yours, I've got high speed broadband you haven't, ner nerdie ner ner, you shelled your town, I've invited the Yanks around with there big boats to shout "My dad is harder than your dad" over the fence. Slightly more important than the average snow fall in Essex in the 90's.

The fact that the Irish economy is about to implode and if it does then the whole Euro-zone adventure is going to come crashing down around our ears is a bit more concerning than welly high snow drifts in Dover. Now I know we are not in the Euro, but we need to get a few things into perspective. The Euro-zone is our biggest export market and if the rest of Europe doesn't have any money then who's going to buy our jet engineers, sports cars and spend £10 on plastic Beefeaters outside the tower of London. If the Celtic Tiger gets mange then Britain will be awash with  Boy bands, ditch diggers and cheap labourers. What are all the Eastern Europeans going to do, there'll be riots at Nettos across the country, you'll be able to get a plumber around on the day you phone them and the cross rail project will be completed 2 years ahead of target and at a cost of £18.47. Basically chaos.

I'm sure that most people would agree that the fact that the country owes around £1 trillion is a touch more vexing then black ice in Basildon. The numbers are so big as to make no sense what so ever. If you counted to 1 million and you counted 1 number every second it would take you 11.5 days to finish. To count to 1 trillion would take 32,000 years. The government has cut £80 billion from the budget and this is just to claw back what we overspent this year. We've maxed out our Barclaycard, got one of those MBNA ones as well and done that one too. We've had a knock on the door from the bailiffs and if we don't pay up now they're going to take our Wide screen TV, X Box, IPod and the BMW.

Apparently 24 FIFA officials pocketing $100M is less important than comedy snowmen in Scotland. A bunch of corrupt officials that hold the key to around £3 Billion of profit and just because Mr Blatter wants it to go to Russia then it will. The fact that if you win the bid you have to agree to not levy any tax what so ever on FIFA, FIFA's mates and their related football businesses. Plus you have to suspend any workers rights including the minimum wage. They are so bent they can see round corners, if you can get Jack Warner to agree to your bid then you get his two mates as well. I wonder how much they charge.

Now I know weather is a national obsession but come on we have snow every year and we arse it up every year, the roads will jam, the trains will run but no one will be able to get to the stations, the airports will be slightly put out, people will panic and buy loads of bread and milk but lets get it into context, we had a bit of snow in November big deal.

Also what happened to global warming? I thought I was set to enjoy Mediterranean type sunshine, eating dinner on the decking sipping Chianti, eating olives, having long afternoon naps and having my sons chase forgein skirt around the local nightclubs till 4am every night. Guess they'll need to rethink that won't they. Oh that's right they did, after things didn't warm up overnight and the evidence didn't add up, the so called experts decided that global warming didn't mean it would actually get warmer, but we would just get more extreme weather phenomenons. Not so bloody expert after all.

Just like the ever so intelligent astrophysicists who told us the universe started with a big bang (I've seen the proof and it's as flimsy as a hookers underwear) and that this happened 13.7 billion years ago. Now they are happy to tell us that nothing can travel faster than  the speed of light so how do they explain the fact that they found a star system over 20 billion light years away. Easy, they make up some new theory that things did expand faster at the beginning of time in some strange bullshit made up expanding hot air bollocks event due to stupidity and ego theory.

So in summary
The Koreans are having a tiff and that makes us all nervous because one has nuclear bombs,
Ireland has spent all its pocket money and has asked it's parents to buy it more chocolate,
Britain has maxed out its credit card and now can't buy a new sofa every month,
FIFA is a bunch of self righteous thieves and the world cup is going to Russia, Blatter said so,
People have no real idea about global warming they are basically guessing,
Space geeks aren't quite as clever as they thought they were and girls like muscle better,
And snow is fun but not quite as important as the other stuff.

Christmas Carols in Moscow

Christmas is now on the horizon and it's time for us all to focus on the ritual of present transfer. Now being of a certain age, i.e. over 40 (but only just mind you) and I'm getting to the point where I find myself saying stupid things that show just how old and untrendy I've become.  The classic old personism is “When I were a lad!” you even get to affect a rather crappy northern accent as if you actually delivered Hovis bread at 5am every morning.

 It’s one of those slightly patronising things you fall into when you have kids, things you promised yourself you wouldn’t do or say because they sounded so stupid when you were on the receiving end of them.  Some of the things you heard were more inane than others, my all time favourite being “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about” or “I’ll wipe that smile off your face.” The mental imagery for those two are just exquisite. I’m happy to say that I have managed to resist most, but while my two boys are under 10 there is still a wonderfully innocent look of amazed incredulity when you tell them that there were no such things as playstations back in the day and phones were very immobile if you had one at all. When you tell them that the nearest you got to a curry was a boil in the bag Vesta meal for 2. Which was basically 4 lumps of chicken in a yellow sauce that resembled nothing else on earth I can think of other than cat bile. They just stand there slack mouthed like fish in a tank.

Looking back things were pretty boring, so the next time you hear some old fart tell you things were so much better in the “Good old days” then you have my permission to flop out the old boy and urinate on his shoes. Ladies you can just smack em in the chops, I can’t condone any woman squatting in the street Paula Radcliffe stylee, it's not nice and any moral high ground you were about to hold has been immediately relinquished.

Things were not better in the good old days and when exactly were these so called good old days, mi ol’ china cocknee sparra. Let’s take a little look at exactly when these Utopian Edens were shall we? Let’s discount the 80’s and 70’s as I’m 40 and I lived through those times. They were basically crap, my Walkman ate both tapes and batteries for fun and the hair cuts were rubbish.

The 60’s were how shall I say it, a pretty mixed bag. The cold war was in full affect so life on the wrong side of the iron curtain was particularly rubbish, living on bread, gruel and lies. The Germans were building a great big wall through Berlin; I reckon that wasn’t too good for morale. The rest of the world were left wondering if that bloke with massive eyebrows in Moscow was going to push his big red button this week. Somewhat tense you might say! The Vietnam War was on the rise and the bay of pigs was a complete cock up as well so the Yanks weren’t too happy either, especially the black ones that weren’t even allowed to sit on the best seats on the bus. China was using its little red book to be very nasty to its poor people. The Israelis’ had a war which lasted 6 days. The Cuban’s had a missile crisis and the whole world shat its pants.  The feminist movement went into full affect in the early 60’s so by definition half the world had the hump and we all know how bad that can be. We had TV, but only 2 channels, how was that good! On the flip side, the music was good; we went to the moon, Barbie got a boyfriend (Ken), the first Lamborghini was built, there were some quality movies  - Spartacus, Jungle Book & The Dirty Dozen and things were a lot more colourful than the grey 50’s. Everyone had more fun, but you still died of some basic stuff in hospitals, a lot of people still didn’t have an inside toilet and if you lived up North there was a good chance someone you knew had died down a coal mine. That doesn’t sound much like the good old days does it?

How do the 50’s shape up? Well badly if you ask me. We still had rationing, i.e. not enough food. There was no world war, but we had a spin off war, something on the side, a cheese and biscuits war in Korea, with the Americans itching to use their H bombs again. The Russians were very grumpy and shot lots of rockets into space to annoy the Americans. We had the Mau Mau in Kenya chopping up white people, China running out of food and millions starving, that wasn’t so good. Basically everyone was skint and tired from the war. You were lucky if you lived till you were 60, no heating, no plumbing, minimal electric, everyone in the north lived on lard, the music was rubbish, the films were poor, the King died, the Ruskies were nicking countries Hitler Stylee, the French started the Vietnam war which they deftly passed to the Americans when it went a bit Pete Tong, the cars were death traps, Africa was revolting, the airplanes kept crashing, someone nicked the Suez canal, posh spies nicked all our secrets and only rich people could drink champagne. Rubbish.

The 40’s had a war and the 30’s had a depression so they were not even in the running as the good old days. The 20’s were completely screwed, the yanks banned booze, the rest of us were either having a revolution, a communist uprising, a fascist take over, a neighbourly war or a disintegrating empire. Then to top it off the world’s finances crashed and the poor couldn’t even afford lard.

So the next time someone says the young haven’t had it so good you shake their hand and tell them they are so right. Then remind them its not just the nippers, that yes we’ve had a few ups and downs but everyone has never had it so good, everyone has a massive tele, a mobile phone, heating, continuous electricity, Fridge freezers, hospitals that do amazing things, TV with 100’s of channels, knowledge on tap, books, science, music on demand, films at their finger tips, freedom of speech, the vote, a mind blowing array of foods and tastes brought to our shores by people from around the world. Holidays, travel, more food than people know what to do with, the right of ownership, emergency services, more cash in your pocket than ever before and those hand warmer things that you use at golf. If anyone tells you it was better at any other time then they are idiots.

Armageddon in high heels

So we run full steam into November and being British the most important thing now and always is the weather. It’s got rather cold and that means my whole early morning routine has gone out the window. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t mind mornings, I don’t like them per say, but as long as I have my routine and everyone stays in bed or out of my way then I’m happy enough. For the past 8 months things have been ticking along quite nicely, but now things have definitely gone to pot.

The clocks changing was fine I could handle a little more light, but the cold is all together different. There is nothing worse than having to get out of a lovely warm bed and into an ice cube of a bedroom. The problem is the wife loves our warm bed and spends a lot of time in it, but she doesn’t like to get too hot?? So what to do?

 As the temperature had dropped appreciably the Central Heating Utilisation Management Steering group held its first meeting and as with all joint home decision making apparatus it’s made up of two groups, those with the power and the men. The men wasted a lot of time in debate before agreeing with the non men in the group that they were right again and that whatever the women wanted was obviously the best solution.

 Now I’d like to clarify here and now that there are certain truths in this world that are universal and no matter what arguments are put forward, by men, they will remain constant until the end of time or until we somehow manage to introduce a third gender into society that everyone can blame. Men need women for a whole stack of stuff, some too obvious to mention, some are painfully apparent when the wife spends more than 18 hours away from home. Women basically need men for heavy lifting and going downstairs for strange noises in the night and not a lot else. If women went on strike society would crumble in a matter of days. If men went on strike the main issue would be no car tyres would get changed.  A general female strike would be catastrophic, the chain of events would be like so

Day 1 (9:00am)

Global removal of all carnal privileges, tensions rise in all areas around the globe, especially the Middle East. Life in a refugee camp on the West Bank is hard enough, take away nookie and well you’ve got a powder keg on your hands. Diplomatic efforts around the world begin to experience problems.

Day 1 (noon)

Fast food outlets and supermarkets experience a massive spike in demand for hot food and cut sandwiches as packed lunches are found to be empty. Men turn to kebabs without a beer starter.  A general malaise begins as the increase in fat and salt in our diets causes bloating and bowel issues. Toilet paper supplies come under pressure.

Day 1 (3:00pm)

Phone networks start to fail as schools find thousands of kids uncollected from the play ground and start ringing their emergency contact numbers. In a desperate bid to manage this crisis Police are dispatched to all schools to handle the control of hyper children as many of the teachers leave their posts in an attempt to collect their own young ones.

Day 1 (4:00pm)

With no one walking home from school the number of cars on the roads steadily grows, this is then compounded as a large proportion of working men leave work early in a frantic effort to reach their kid’s school. As tension rises so does the accident levels causing grid lock all over the country. With very few Police on hand these accidents remain unmanaged and tailbacks reach record proportions. Those fake motorway policemen are hounded into hiding and all accident investigations are suspended.

Day 1 (8:00pm)

Road congestion starts to ease slightly, but with no home cooking in sight McDonalds everywhere start to run out of food. Congestion begins to climb again. The McDonald's collapse causes a chain reaction and a systematic failure of one fast food chain after another until the only place selling hot food is the Nut & Tofu Parlour on Kensington Boulevard.

Day 1 (11:00pm)

Breaking news the government announces all school and colleges will be closed until the resolution of the women’s general strike. Men everywhere start to face the fact that they will have to entertain their kids for days to come. Tension grows more acute and hospital admissions start to rise.

Day 2 (2:00am)

Men are still stranded on the road and local councils everywhere are forced to start setting up crisis centres and places to sleep all around the major road arteries. A sense of community starts to grow as men everywhere start to take on the parental control for families in their street with fathers stuck in the road chaos. This is short lived as it starts to damn on them that they will have to start watching Ben 10 rather than babe station. Hypertension, stress levels and heart conditions are exacerbated and the hospitals and doctors start to come under renewed pressure.

Day 2 (6:00am)

Absence rates and impromptu holidays reach record proportions as the child minding sector completely breaks down. Businesses are crippled and the supermarkets start to experience panic buying, with the focus on ready meals, chocolate and pot noodles. Roads remain impassable and all McDonalds remain shut.

Day 2 (10:00am)

The stock market starts to crash with the focus on the retail sector. Costa shares see 75% fall along with all the coffee producers as no women are out after the school run and no one has time to nip out of work for a skinny latte. All clothing retailers take a hit especially the shoe shops. Card shop stocks also take a pounding as the realisation dawns that men never remember birthdays kicks in.

Day 2 (noon)

Paper manufacturers and all companies relating to wrapping paper, cards, bows and those posh present bags start to see their share values tumble. IKEA announces the closure of nearly all its branches. The only sector to be up are the florists and flower growers, people are anticipating a lot of making up to do. Pubs start to fill as thousands of men attempt to drown out the pain. Beer gardens come under extreme juvenile pressure.

Day 2 (2:00pm)

Banking stocks also come under sustained pressure as home budgets are ignored and men start paying £14 for a hot dog because the only place they can get food is the cinemas. All transport networks fail; no beer is delivered to the pubs, all sporting events are cancelled until the foreseeable future. Credit card companies start to panic and credit facilities are withdrawn, the whole banking sector starts to implode. The army is called onto the streets as rioting breaks out outside Warner Brothers and the smaller branches of LIDL.

Day 2 (5:00pm)

Western civilisation starts to completely fail, no food in the shops except for pine nuts and star fruit, money markets suspended, hospitals full, Police and Army on the streets, anarchy through out the land, no beer in the pubs, nothing to watch on TV, basically a complete shit tip. Cut to the White House. Barack Obama is playing with his little ones in the oval office while trying to work. The Israeli prime minister is on the phone and things are getting stressed. Mr O doesn't see little fingers playing with his special key and big red button and before you can say intercontinental ballistic missile we just became a foot note in history and all this just because I wanted the Thermostat turned up 2 degrees so I don't freeze my butt off in the mornings.

Anyone for Tennis

So Tuesday last week was Call of Duty day, basically it's an excuse for all the men between the ages of 16 (yes I know it's an 18 certificate, but that's the facts) and 45 to spend the whole day neglecting just about everyone else on the planet to play a silly little game on whatever console they can lay your hands on. Now if you had any brownie points or goodwill vouchers in the bank then today was the day to cash them in. Just be careful not to overspend and have to fall into hock on said vouchers. Always stay in the black, never play catch up. The repayment terms are always very steep and you never know when the debt will be called in. It's usually somewhere near a shoe shop, with matching handbag, obviously, but you have been warned. The day itself really paled into insignificance so I won't bother to recount the parts that were even remotely worth mentioning, as they were few. To break it down it goes something like this, did as little work as I could get away with, got home as early as I could, played the game for a lot of hours, upset the wife, yes I was in the wrong, eat too much crap food then went to bed late. The end

Swiftly on to Wednesday

Wednesday, where the hell did the name come from? Well it’s based on the Old English Woden’s day which derives from the Germanic for the day of Odin, the top dog when it comes to Norse deity.  Now if Odin is the Mac Daddy when it comes to Northern European gods then why is his day stuck in the middle week surely it should be at the weekend? So basically the naming of the days is nearly as inane as the naming of the months, which comes from our Italian friends. December is supposed to be the 10^th month of the year from the Latin “Dec” which means yes, you guessed it 10. Which follows on from the 8^th month “Oct”ober and the 9^th being “Nov”ember, which also derive from the relative Latin terms. So basically it’s a mess, but no-one’s going to change it now. No-one questions things they believe whatever they are told.

There is a reason for this wittering on as it’s something that really annoys me. How people’s ignorance and stupidity make them look like such spanners, but then other people listen to them. It’s like the whole British or being English thing. Why do people say idiotic things like England should be an Anglo-Saxon country again with no foreigners’. Hang on a minute the Angles and the Saxons where both Germanic tribes from Northern Europe that popped across the North Sea when they heard the Romans had finished building straight roads in Londinium and buggered off home to kill each other and watch their once mighty empire fall to bits. How can that be classed as being “English?” What they are saying is to be English means you’re German! You know the place where Adolf Hitler came from (yes I know he was Austrian)

OK let me show you just how crazy this is. I’m going to give you the history of England the abridged version. The bible in three lines last time and now the history of our fair Isles as well aren’t you lucky. Here goes, 500BC the country was in the Iron Age and after around 6 thousands years of living on berries, grass and anything we could kill with spears our first visitors arrived, the Celts. Mainly from France but also from across other parts of central Europe. Our Gallic friends took over and we all started eating garlic, but no one had invented the beret yet so not all bad. The French were in charge for around 500 years until the Italian’s popped over the channel for their turn. The Roman’s gave the Celts a good whacking, sent half of them back to Italy as slaves and moved in togas and all. They did build some nice towns, roads, viaducts, sanitation, under floor heating and the odd high wall though.

After 4 centuries of eating spaghetti and drinking olive oil, the Romans finally ran out of slaves and other Roman’s to fight and all buggered off back to Italy. That left the door ajar and who stuck their toe in the gap, the Angles, Saxons and Jutes. The armies of modern day Holland, Germany and Denmark took their turn. The usual wanton rape and pillage ensued, but after a short struggle they moved in their big dogs, popped their slippers by the fire and got down to bleeding the locals dry. This went on for about 300 years until the Viking landed their long boats on the east coast and started having some fun; they took the whole pillaging thing to a whole new level and took over much of the North.

1066 saw the French back again and this time William the Conqueror or William the bastard as he was known at home, completely remodelled the place, setting up all his mates with nice big chunks of land as long as they built him great big stone castles with which he could bleed yet more tax from the local serfs. The Normans hung around for just under 100 years until passing crown to another bunch of lovely Frenchies, the Plantagenets. The likes of Richard the lion heart, who in his 10 years as King spent just 8 months at home, hung around for the thick end of two and a half centuries before being replaced by Kings from the house of Lancaster. Northern monkeys in general, but their first king, Henry IV, spent most of his life in, you guessed it, France. Which is where all his buddies and hanger-ons came from, by the way! The crown was then passed around different northern families for 150 years until they managed to unite themselves and we then had Tudor kings. These Tudors were short lived and within 100 years Lizzie the first decided she didn’t fancy having kids and the crown was passed to a Scot. Not lost in battle or hideously robbed in the night. No handed to them on a plate. The old enemy were now in control and low and behold everything went to pot.

Over the next 100 years we had a civil war, cut off the Kings head, didn’t bother with a king at all for 10 years, but still found time to be horrible to the Irish. Then we invited a King back again (from France). Then after no one could decide whether we wanted to be Roman Catholic or Church of England we told the Scots to bugger off and invited in the Dutch.

That didn’t really work either so we then asked the Germans to have a go; I’m sure hoping their renowned efficiency would be good for a country of beer drinking lunatics. This actually seemed to go quite well and everyone became rich, except for the poor people obviously and we ruled the world. When this line of monarchs ran out of steam we passed the mantle onto their German friends the House of Saxe-Coburg. We then changed the name to the house of Windsor, when World War I broke out and it became very unpopular to be German, and that’s what we have right up until today.

Half the stuff that marks us as English has come from alien shores.

The Queen – German

The Tower of London – built by a Frenchman

Fish and chip – Jewish for Portugal

Tea – from the Far East

Strawberries & Cream – Strawberries first imported from France

Tennis – first played in France

St George – Muslim or Roman from Asia if he ever lived at all  

The Ritz – designed and open by a Swiss businessman

Marks & Spencers – started by a Jewish Pole

Tesco – Jewish son born of a Polish dad

Isanbard Kingdom Brunel – French Dad and educated in France.

So to be honest if you class yourself as truly English through and through then you are basically saying you are a fur wearing, berry eating, deer chasing, unclean, mindless, Iron Age thug.

Actually I might have just hit the nail on the head there?

Someones stolen my arms

Well I'd like to spend some more time jotting down some slightly interesting wheezes about my weekend, but unless I did them in my sleep that wasn't happening. So I'll paraphrase. The weekend was the same mad rush to complete as many tasks, jobs and chores as possible as usual. So lets see after fireworks Friday evening I dropped off the rest of the family and went to play cricket. I'd like to blind you with the science of the game, the wrist spin, chinaman, stumpings and yorkers, but to be frank the game was far easier than that to describe. We got humped and it was none too pretty, no kissing, no loving, it was bare back and it really smarted. Of course the game was dissected in the pub afterwards, but no amount of analysis could hide the fact that we were crap and got 12 of the best trouser down. Home late and straight to bed, lots to do tomorrow.

  Saturday was shopping for IPods early, out with Grandpa to buy a new bike a bit later. Then setting up said IPods after lunch followed by a game of football that we won. My 8 minute cameo was a thing of beauty only because everyone else was shattered from running around in the mud for 85 minutes. Then it was a drive home while listening to the radio as West Ham threw away a perfectly good 2-0 lead. In the evening it was out for dinner with the family then back home for tea and coffee.

Sunday was playing with IPods, housework, homework and reading in the morning. This was followed by a run at noon, a solid 4 miles, a walk along the seafront with optional Rossi's ice-cream and a bike ride straight after. The afternoon ended with lists to Santa, then more IPod action, roast dinner, more IPod stuff and then finally putting the two knackered nippers to bed. That just left the rubbish to put out and then I was done. Now the plan was to have an early night and it was going great until I stupidly flicked on the TV for a so called 15 minutes just to wind down after playing on the PC. Now we all have a couple of films that even though we have them on DVD and never watch them, we still watch them whenever they come on tele no matter what the time is. Now mine are My Cousin Vinny, Dune, Ali G in Da house (I know its crap, but I just can't help it) and tonight's option V for Vendetta. Yes I fell asleep somewhere in the middle but I saw the great ending and managed to slip into bed sometime after 12:30 hoping work would be a bit less hard work.

God Monday morning was a struggle and as I stared at the sink in the near darkness that was sometime around way too early I contemplated any excuse not to go to work, now some were really crap, but after a litte mental tussle I sorted myself out, got ready and set off for work. Considering it was Monday morning the roads were pretty clear all the nutters, madmen, blind drivers and forgein truck maniacs seemed to be going the other way. I sailed into work and was actual doing well  right up until I opened my email to find 141 new messages. It was the best 4 minutes of the day. 141 emails, I was away for 3 days not 3 weeks, come on guys sort it out. Why does everyone copy everyone on every email even when they have just about nothing to do with me. Now I have a friend who shall remain nameless, but he has a great way of dealing with his email backlog. On returning from his summer holidays this year he was presented with a mail box that contained 1183 unread emails. Undaunted he just deleted the lot! His logic was if any of them were important then the author would send it again and if it wasn't important then he had just saved 5 hours of his life. He is my hero.

I battled through the usual stuff and after a spot of lunch I checked out the news and was struck by a story about a group of Anglican bishops that have defected to the Roman Catholic church. Pardon my french, but how the fuck does that work. How can you be a Protestant one day and a Catholic the next, that was some kind of day. The story is just great is says "they will retain a distinct religious identity", that's just code for you are fake catholics you can come in, but sit at the back with the gingers, sorry strawberry blondes and the Welsh. Now I'm sure these are clever and wise men and they know far more about the subject than me, but didn't that German bloke nail a proclamation on the doors of some church for a good reason. Something like all the fat cats sitting in Rome telling us what to do, in Latin, while stealing all our money for big gold crosses and posh frocks. I'm surprised it took the Germans that long to stop listening to the Italians, the Germanic barbarians had spent many a happy year plundering Italy while the Romans bribed other hard nuts from north of the Rhine to fight them. It was almost a national past time. The Italians are half arsed, they never finish anything, no staying power look at the Venus De Milo they didn't even do her any arms. Come on is it really that bad in the church of England, where they were, so they didn't like women priests. I mean who wants to be a Roman Catholic priest at the moment they are more hated than 2nd hand car salesmen, estate agents, MP's and bankers. Basically they are seen as a bunch of kiddy fiddling weirdos.

 Look the bible was written nearly 2000 years ago and most of it from memory and over 50 years after the death of Jesus. I'm sure they made a few mistakes and I'm quite sure we aren't meant to take it all literally. If we did we wouldn't be able to eat prawns or wear leather shoes. Okay I'll give you a shortened version of the bible for the modern lifestyle, that cuts to the chase of it. Here goes,

It's a bunch of stories that have a hidden meaning that you can learn from. The important bits are be nice to everyone, don't be an arse, look after people that need your help, especially the old and young, even idiots should get a second chance and if you do these things then you go to heaven, the end, sorry Amen.

The rest of the day was normal as hell and I look forward to an average tomorrow.

Birthday cake and fireworks

So Thursday was my eldest sons 9th birthday and as always it's up at the crack of sparrows for team us. You can't blame the poor fellow I think if we would have made him stay in bed much longer we would have had the return of spontaneous human combustion. Isn't it amazing that since science has become so much more sophisticated all the cases of people just blowing up because they felt like it have stopped. Funny that, I seem to remember as a kid a whole host of S.H.C (I'm not typing that every time) occurrences.  It was either that or the latest person to be linked to being Jack the Ripper. Now the discovery channel is the fountain of all knowledge and the world seems to revolve around Nazi, Mummies and sharks. But I can just picture the scene.

"So what happened here then?"
"Well officer we were just sitting reading the Alabama Gazette when poor Humphrey here just burst into flames!"
"Now that is strange, what was he doing when this..... event occurred?" *flipping open his small black note book*
"Well funny you should ask that, we were discussing if we could still afford all the life insurance cover we have running at the moment."
"Did he need a lot of cover then?"
"Yes, officer, he did. He often brought his work home with him, he was a very hard worker you know. We have 6 kids to feed along with my rather substantial heroine addiction."
"And what line of work did poor Mr Oppenheimer do?"
"Gasoline salesman."
"and what exactly happened next madam?"
"well all of a sudden he just burst into flames without even a word of warning, he's burned a hole in the new rug."
"I see and did he often sit with his head in the fire?"
"Well he did feel the cold officer, even in August."
" Right, everything seems in order here Bob I think it's back to the station for a spot of lunch. We'll let the local university know we've got another human torch. Good day madam."

Yep S.H.C is just about as believable as all those UFO abductions stories that all seemed to happen in America, strange how they mostly visit the middle of no where Arizona or back water arse end ville Tennessee. If I was an alien I'd be going to Niagara falls or checking out the night life in New York. But anyway the birthday went really well except for a few tearful moments from son number 2. It's always tough on kids when someone else has a birthday because unlike Christmas the other one gets a bit left out and just has to sit and watch. So it was presents in the morning followed by school then more presents in the evening interspersed with a generous helping of cakes and scones. Over tired kids going to bed late and knackered parents going to bed early.

I'm sure I didn't really need the spin class with the wife in the morning. Now I enjoy the class but I always leave the studio feeling a bit cheated. The instructor keeps telling us about these hills and rolling scenery we are cycling through, the mountain climbs, fast descents and the crowds at the finishing line, but I have to spend the whole session looking at the same 2 sweaty bum cracks. I'm going at the front next time.

Friday was the morning after the day before and the whole lot of us were a little cranky. It was bonfire night so we all looked forward to the chance to stand out in the rain, get soaked and watch a pyromaniac have his one day of sexual relief for the year. Why did Mr Fawkes try and blow up the king in November, why couldn't he have done it May, no wonder they got caught, crap idea, poorly executed with no legacy planning. Anyway the weather report was particularly bad and optimism was low, we were going to get wet. Now my wife is lovely and her scones and coconut cakes are to die for, but there are times when her mood can be, how do they say it, a trifle black. Now there are always three prime indicators to one of these unhappiness's. 1-being hungry, 2-being cold and 3-tiredness. Any combination of 2 of these is a challenge, but if you get a triple whammy then back away from explosive device. Well a November evening, in the rain after the birthday the day before was not a great combo especially as add to that 2 boys who has just had their first Karate class after 2 days of cross country and had a present and cake fuelled late night the day before. The concoction was more explosive then at least half of the fireworks set for release that evening. But all in all it wasn't too bad and I'm sure we will do it again next year.

Darling what's this knife for?

So the Tuesday night installment of our epic half snickers training went off without a hitch, no strange injuries, no dog attacks and no unexpected course changes. 3.7 miles to there and back again and at the end of it a quick lie down in the street to recover enough energy to get through the front door. And as I refer to my AWM (axe wielding maniac) fatigue chart, I see that once again it's a level 4 result. The local nutter with a hatchet needs to lay off the B&H and get a little exercise of his own. All in all not bad I suppose, it's only been a week of training  Hopefully at some stage we will be able to do some exercise without the need for paramedic cover.

That was pretty much it for Tuesday night, just a bit of time on the PC, a bit of gaming and checking out Facebook. How did we ever survive without Mr Zuckerberg's little creation, apparently I've 130 friends. I don't remember having that many cards on my last birthday and if the number is right I'm going to get a serious amount of socks at Christmas. We will return to facebook in some depth at some stage, but not today.

Wednesday was a strange kind of day, there was a tube strike in London (Union blah blah again) and so I worked from home. Now I'd booked Thursday and Friday off as holiday so it felt really strange, you know that feeling you get when you have a long weekend and the second Sunday just aint right or if you go to a family do on a Saturday (should be on a Sunday, I thought everyone knew the rules). Then Sunday just doesn't feel right, it's like going to the cinema during the day. You go in when it's light and come out when it's dark, so as you stream out of the auditorium, wiping the popcorn from every fold in your clothes, you're body feels like it must be nearly midnight. Then you look at the clock in the car and it says 7:20. What I'm saying is having a Wednesfridholiday day plus working from home, to be honest it was a bit of a bore. I like working from home. You can get up later, don't have to shave, work in your bumming round the house clothes, stop working earlier, but still get more done. The downside is you can get a touch of cabin fever and it is nice to meet the odd member of the human race. Strangely I missed the shoplifters and wheel clampers from down down ghettoville. I even missed Mr can I text and change lanes at the same time van driver.

The highlight of my working day was definitely the fresh home made scones that Mrs Average had lovingly prepared. Top notch I must say. We did have some discussions as to whether they were S-cones or S-gones, but all I knew was she cooked them I'll be eating them so that makes whatever she says right. I'm starting to see a pattern in all my blogging and it seems women in general are always right and if they aren't then the clever men let it go and use it as some kind of brownie scoring exercise. On the other hand the not so astute males lose their left testicle in a freak early morning chopping board accident. It's a simple conundrum and I think we all know the answer don't we?

Wednesday evening was particularly normal, the kids were very tired and extremely ratty. Dinner was spaghetti Bolognese which is definitely in my top 5 home dinners of all time. TV was crap, football was on and everyone on twitter was talking about X Factor. So I popped myself in front of the PC and whiled away a few hours killing bad guys, planting bombs and shooting down helicopters. Half way through I paused for Scone number 3, hand delivered to my desk with an accompanying drink. I knew my lack of resistance in earlier female interactions would pay dividends.

The night was finished off by a little TV. I'd recorded Rude Tube on the Sky Plus. This is the combination of 2 of the greatest modern inventions. You Tube and Sky Plus.  Rude Tube is a show that plays you the most popular virals from You Tube, the most entertaining website ever. Anywhere where you can see people making complete arses of themselves, getting whacked in the goolies, what happens when you put Mintoes into Pepsi or that montage to cat accidents (cruel but we all giggle at the one going around on the ceiling fan) gets my vote. The greatest invention ever is Sky Plus, I can not tell you how many arguments, fights or tantrums that box has saved in my household alone. It would create world peace if everyone had one. Whoever invented it should be beatified by the pope at his earliest convenience. Mate you are a legend.

Let them eat cake

It’s been a busy morning and after a light snack (training tonight, no doughnuts for yours truly) I spend a few minutes watching the planes land at London City airport. In this break from things I relax my mind and off it wanders to who knows where.  Today is no exception. I quickly pass by the French and the religion and mosey on past stupid people and popular culture. Then before you know it I’m sat on a park bench just outside the fat and the poor. Now I know there’s a thing called political correctness but its complete bollocks, lets be frank, political correctness is politeness that’s got out of hand. It’s like America, something simple, something that looks nice from a distance, on paper seems like a good idea, but we’ve not paid it enough attention over the years and now it’s just become too big for its own boots and now no one likes it.

So the sign says poor and fat, it doesn’t say fiscally challenged or horizontally challenged, no one says those things out loud unless they’re taking the piss. So let’s say it how it is and if you don’t like it then blame me and have another chocolate éclair. I’m the one going to hell; you were only watching (thanks Billy). Man has been recording history for getting on for 10,000 years; this is quite a long time and in all that time, except for the last 40 years or 0.4% of all recorded time if you were poor you were skinny, it’s called starving and if you were rich you could, if available food stocks were to hand, get very fat. This lies at the nub of the problem. We are simply greedy by nature, we like to eat and we have to make a conscious effort not to. People are fat because they are following their basic instincts to eat, because eating keeps them alive and makes them feel good. The problem is the eating part of the brain is far heavier and sits on top of the common sense gland. This causes the greedy bastard part of the brain to swell, which in turn pushes down on the jaw, forcing the mouth open and allowing the highly developed pie arm to deliver yet more food.

But it’s okay, at least when you are poor you can’t afford a lot of food? Wrong in this country almost no one is actually so poor they can’t eat, they are in relative poverty. Currently that means they can’t afford an IPod, go to the pictures or have their nails done. We eat because there is no one there to tell us not to. Look at Labradors, look how fat they get when we look after them. When we get a puppy its cute and cuddly, full of energy, you can’t stop the thing nicking your toilet roll. By the time it’s 6 it can’t walk to the end of the garden path because its spindly legs can’t manage is gargantuan sausage shaped body. Food is so cheap that we can have as much as we like, in fact things have now flipped around and the richer you are the more likely you are to spend more money on more expensive health foods and so you will be thinner. Truly twisted.

Ok, but poor people work hard every day in the fields and factories, this should keep them svelt and athletic? Wrong again in modern society more people work in the cities than in the country and most of the manufacturing process is done by machines. All it takes is one fat git (Homer Simpson) sat in a control room pushing buttons. Anyway all the manual menial jobs are done by foreigners and students; they’re the only ones that will work for minimum wage.

But better jobs and working conditions mean more free time and leisure time where we can do more things to keep fit? Also wrong, you would think that people would want to be active and look after themselves, but really if you spend £1500 on the latest 60” TV you’re going to use it no matter how nice the weather is outside. Plus you can’t watch X Factor whilst playing football, Simon Cowell (aka the devil) has a lot to answer for.

But my parents and grandparents aren’t fat I hear you cry? Of course they’re not, let’s look at the facts. Let’s go back about 100 years. In 1910 a lot of people were very poor and most of us were building big metal ships because we knew a war was coming, then there was a big war and we all spent our time building tanks, we only had coal and dandelions to eat. After the war there were a few good years when the rich got really rich and the rest just watched them in silence and in black and white. Coal was off the menu, but most small boys lived on a diet of Hovis bread and whippet poo pie. Then at the end of the 20’s we had the great depression and everyone, even the rich went hungry. The poor survived on toe jam and dandruff rissoles. Things picked up through the 30’s but just as we were getting somewhere along came Hitler and it was back to tanks, coal and wild flowers. The war ended, but rationing didn’t and before you know it we were nearly at the end of the 50’s. No one bothered with food in the 60’s everyone was so stoned they didn’t care about food just peace, love and rockets to the moon. Food supply was better in the 70’s, but you could only eat so much of the same beige cardboard food. There was nothing on the menu, all the good food was hidden in France (damn them). Everyone lived on prawn cocktail, steak and ice cream (usually on the same plate). In the 80’s fast food took off and it all went to shit from there.

So in conclusion, we’re not really that poor, people who are starving and have no home are poor, but we are fat bloaters because we haven’t got the will power to say no. We would rather watch talentless wannabes on TV rather than go for a walk in the park. I’m off for a run tonight because although I hate Simon Cowell I can’t resist doughnuts, coke, chocolate and curry. My time is up and this bench is becoming uncomfortable, back to reality and the rest of my fairly average Tuesday.

Ou est la piscine?

And so we're back to Monday again and today had the potential to be a really, really crap start to the week. The kids are back from half term plus it's month end and with the clocks changing on Sunday everyone will be moaning about how early it gets dark now. Then they'll start with the whole I can't believe it's nearly Christmas already and where did the year go. I think the first person to give me the days till Christmas gets a kick in the bollocks. The standard statement will get the standard testicle jangling punt, but anyone doing the Christmas count in "sleeps" will escape any form of physical response. Anyone quoting shopping days til Christmas will have the afore mention globes of fatherhood removed with a dull spoon and roasted over a small camp fire. Not the most positive start to the day, I know and any mention of the French will really derail my day.

Why didn't I go to the petrol station last night like the wife said and why didn't I bring a coat? Why is she always right and why don't I listen? After this long I should know better. Off we go and low and behold not more than 12 minutes into my journey comes the news that the French want to stop people swimming the English channel. That's right the English Channel, the clue is in the name it's our channel, we won it fair and square. I believe in the drunken game of cup and ball, but a wins a win. If we want to spend 20 hours swimming it, dodging massive container ships, oil tankers and ferries full of drunken Brits spending their hard earned money in the cheap french hyper markets, then no-ones going to stop us. French might be the language of love, but English is the world's language and in every film I've ever seen even god speaks English (and always seems to look like Charlton Heston).

France is a beautiful country with amazing scenery. You have the hot weather and great beaches in the south, skiing in the north, with flat open plains that go on for miles and miles. Parts of it even look very much like England (almost perfect but not quite). The food is renowned as being the best in the world, cheese to die for and it's wines are simply without equal. I think eating snails was a joke that got out of hand though. It's the home of Champagne, Burgundy, Nicole from the Renault adverts and Napoleon. They have amazing restaurants and Paris has some great places to visit. Basically culture oozes from every stone in the ground.

 All in all a very tidy little operation that is completely ruined by just one thing, the people. They are so far up their own arses that no wonder they turn their noses up at everyone else, the world must constantly smell of last nights part digested dinner, bile and pent up farts. They think that everything should be done the European way (i.e. the French way) and if they don't get what they want they go on strike, sulk or just ignore the rest us. It's a country of teenage boys, up tight, arrogant, self important plonkers who haven't really got a clue about how the world actually works. They get the huff at the drop of a hat, want everything done for them plus they don't wash enough. OK that's enough of the French thing, I'm being over dramatic. I like French people, but I couldn't eat a whole one, ba-boom (sorry it just slipped in, I couldn't help myself).

Actually all things considered the morning didn't go too bad, the clock change meant it was light in the morning and i didn't have to get dressed in the dark. The roads were busy, but nothing out of the ordinary and work was busy as well, but that good busy, the one that makes the day go quicker, not the one that makes your head hurt. Talking of hurt, the pain in my legs has nearly gone as well so when you add it all together it was a pretty good day for team me. This was further enhanced by some shoplifting action at Tesco's at lunchtime. Not me, I was only a bystander, but a fair tussle lead to the recovery of the goods and the thief's expensive bag getting broken. One nil for the good guys.

The afternoon was more of the same, tasks finished, spreadsheets complete, reports written and submitted. Month end can be a pain, but not today everything went tickady boo. Had a giggle at the fact that the people of Staines are thinking of changing the name of their town because of Ali G. I also liked the story and pictures of the 40m sink hole that appeared in the middle of a town in Germany. Check out the film on the BBC website, look out for the parked car. Their boss is never going to believe that excuse without pictorial evidence. The journey home was pretty normal and the evening was the same, so can't complain, not that we English do. And you know what? Tomorrow might be just as normal as today and long may it continue. By the way I hate those stupid mime blokes in the berets and black body suits, they are rubbish.

Does Jesus love teenagers?

I like Sunday mornings, it's the only morning that the Alarm clock isn't in use. Now I'm not really a morning person, but as long as I get a bit of time to wake up I'm fine. Seven year olds doing cannonballs are definitely a no no. During the week I'm all right as long as no one messes with my 14 minute routine. I'm up and out the door and awake somewhere up the A13. So why is it that every radio alarm clock has 2 alarm settings, but only one uses the radio? The other is that phenomenally annoying high pitched buzzer thing. Why can't we have two alarms BOTH using the radio? It's not too much to ask for? We put a man on the moon 41 years ago, come on fellas pull your finger out. The wife has the buzzer thank god, I have to go down stairs to confront burglars and any other noises in the night. It's a fair trade.

This was the best Sunday of the year, the clocks went back and we had an extra hours lay in plus our youngest son (the one who gets up at 6:30 every morning) was at a sleep over party at his friends. I will never have one of those things, 6 under 8's all up until 2:00am and back up at again at 6:00am, over my cold dead body. So the day started well and peaked at some fine bacon sandwiches. After that it was a spot of washing up, a bit of a tidy up around the house and then fixing the bathroom shelves.

At noon it was half marathon training pre-training part 2. This time, distances were set, routes agreed and clearly communicated. This meticulous planning meant we stayed on course. 41 minutes and 4 miles later we were home, dishevelled but still able to evade the proverbial axe murderer. I think from now on I'm going to use that as my measurement of tiredness. So today we were a level 4, that's able to evade, but only if the axeman was overweight and a smoker.

So Sunday is god's day, the day of rest and prayer or some shit like that (guess my feelings on this from just those16 words), but I can't see how this Christianity thing ever took off, I mean look at the 10 commandments, 8 things you're not allowed to do, not very positive and for teenagers that's just red rag to a bull. Be nice to your mum and dad, again that's out for anyone under 20 and finally remember the sabbath, get real it's on the calender and it comes round every week, we're hardly going to forget it in that time. It's just a rubbish users handbook to a chancer's religion, anyway men don't read manuals everyone knows that. Perhaps all priests should be women they do detail so much better than us mouth breathing males. Women don't do interpretation there is only one way, THEIR WAY.
In the evening we went to the Harvester, the restaurant chain with the all you can eat salad trolley, good food, but offering as much salad as you like doesn't seem right, I can't quite put my finger on why though. It was my Nan's birthday and everyone had had their fill by the end the main course, but we all had a desert, obviously. Contented we all waddled home and I'm sure that's just about it for the rest of the night all round.

Where’s my seven shot six shooter?

The ten of clubs, now this is going to get real dangerous real quick. Wyatt’s luck was running hot, real hot, but sometimes being this lucky got a man a stomach full of lead. No one was going to believe him and it would take just one accusation of cheating and this was all going to hell. Wyatt looked up from his cards and slowly took in his surroundings, paying special interest to any potential exits. A slow blink and a check of his cards showed the royal flush sitting prettily in his grubby little fingers. It was unbeatable, the best possible hand, but that might not be enough for this game, the six shooter on his right hip may be his best next play. Where was the trouble coming from? Just about any bloody where he’d bled all 3 of the other players dry and any one of them was a possible killer.

Across the table sat the local thug Charles Craddock, a brute of a man. Well over six feet tall and built like a bison his physical stature was far scarier than his poker skills. Well over half the stack of money that sat before Wyatt came into the saloon in Charlie’s wallet, but a fool and his money were easily parted. The thing you notice about Charlie wasn’t his size or even the strange mismatch of Indian and prospector clothes he wore, it was the smell. The stench defied belief, it smelt like the coyote skins he was wearing had been ripped from a rotting carcass sometime last summer, dipped in horses piss and then been hung from his shoulders ever since. No one said anything because his temper was shorter than a rattle snakes left leg and he seemed to resolve every argument he ever had with one of the two pearl handed pistols that hung either side of his fat gut.

On my right was Seymour Close the local undertaker, tall, thin with a pasty complexion, if anyone looked like an undertaker it was Seymour. Dressed all in black Seymour didn’t have any obvious signs of a weapon, but early in the evening Wyatt had caught a glimpse of what looked like a pin fire pistol in his jacket pocket. His coat had flapped open as he groped one of the bars' working girls. The grope had earned him a slap as even working girls had standards. Seymour was a slimy, cretinous letch who had a reputation of sexual depravity. He was also rumoured to sometimes personally drum up trade when times were hard. His poker was decidedly average.

 And that left Clifton Boodabaker, the local business big cheese. Now Clifton would definitely do what ever it took to win and the talk on the street was that he often did. By far the richest man in town, Clifton's sharp city suit, silver topped cane and bowler hat were testament to that fact. Clifton enjoyed the finer things in life, but today luck was something he hadn’t enjoyed, his had been retched. Wyatt had quite quickly put a sizable dent in his cash flow projections. Rich people liked losing money even less than those that couldn’t afford to lose it. His mood was vile; the size of the veins on his neck gave that away, even more than the way he always coughed when he was bluffing. The worst tell Wyatt had ever seen.

So what to do, how to get out of this alive, there was no way he was throwing this hand away. Okay something blatant and obvious seemed in order, an error that everyone would spot. Everyone would fold their hands, he could muck his cards and everyone would walk away alive. A short pause for dramatic effect, “$500” Wyatt declared. Seymour whistled, nothing from the other two. He felt that would be too rich, no one would go for that and he didn’t have to die in this flea bitten frontier saloon bar. It was a dump and not worth a dime all except for Mary Lou, she was always worth a visit. Worth every penny. Two folds then nothing, come on Seymour he thought, don’t be a pratt. The silence seemed to drag on for ever and just as Wyatt thought he was scot free it came “Call”.

 Shit.

Anyway back to reality, Friday was rubbish, seemed like someone had injected concrete into my thighs and I was walking like I’d broken my arse. The roads were crap, work was a pain, we won at cricket which was good, but I only got 1 run which was bad. Saturday my legs were worse, seven miles seems even more stupid now. Plus I couldn’t walk down the stairs. I got wet watching football, my back door cracked (not a euphemism), I’ve got to pay the Barclaycard and West Ham conceded the winning goal in the 88^th minute. All in all a decidedly average kind of start to the weekend, but then I do average pretty well so that’s life I suppose. I hope I win the lottery tonight, maybe I’ll remember to buy a ticket this week.