Another day, another week....

So, heres the skinny.

I've been back in the country for a little over a week. Its cold, rainy and I have a cold already. Grrrrr.

Much worse than that, I have been without my baby. This is NOT GOOD! I spend most of my days thinking about her, and worrying about how much she has to do without me, and worrying that we wont be able to afford the wedding, and worrying and worrying and worrying.

Everything feels wrong. The pain in my recovering ankle has always been dull, but maybe with the damp weather it feels worse. The food I've had since I got back is fine except it just doesnt taste the same. Even the TV shows just dont entertain me as much. Everything is as I left it 7 weeks ago, but somehow slightly different.

I just miss her.

Anyway, I'm here to write a blog, not whimper on about how life is terrible.

I do however want to write an apology. I have a number of friends, good people whom I let down consistantly, I dont keep in touch, I ignore their requests, and dont return their phone calls. Its not because I dont want to. They are all very entertaining and great fun to hang out with, but as I get older I have noticed that this is the compromise we all make.

Friends... take up valuable time that we could be much better off spending watching soap operas, and keeping warm tucked up in bed. When we feel down and depressed we avoid our friends. When we feel poor, we avoid our expensive friends. Our friends may give us great memories, but they also give us hangovers, they also force us to get out of our comfies and make us whip round with the hoover in a mad flurry.

For me right now I have two things to focus on. Spend as much time with my baby on line as possible, and work. I have so little time I can freely give to my friends, whom I miss and whom I care about very much.

I really miss chewing the fat with my brother. We used to compete over almost everything, and discuss pointless rubbish like the astethic values of Tarantino's "Kill Bill" til the early morning. We once watched 30 hours of movies back to back, with help of a few friends, snacks, pizza and a hell of a lot of coffee.

I miss cooking strange new recipes with one friend, watching her face as I throw in handfuls of dried spices. I miss us having a meal and sitting down to watch a Vin Diesel or Russel Crowe, seeing her purr at the screen. Or another day we would pig out on chocolates and chat til 2am. With my unreliablility, however and her busyness its been months since we have done that.

I have another great friend whom I adore spending time with. When I was younger I used to pop round to see her and her fella. They would put up with me tinkering on their guitars, playing their music and asking silly questions like "Who is Bruce Springsteen anyway". Now I only ever get to see her on family occasions or very very rarely I stop and chat to her at the odd gig. Im so sorry.

Then theres my oldest friend who now lives in Bournemouth with his beautiful wife. Its not so far away, and yet I rarely even call. When they first moved away I used to go round and stay for the evening. We would hang out in the best Chinese restaurants eating 100 yr old eggs, and dim sum to die for. Then after a few bevvies it was back to the flat for an entire night of playing "rocky" on the X-box. Now I have to search around to remember his phone number.

My great school friend, another married lady now, who tries her very best to stay in touch with me. Offering me a coffee every now and then. We have spent a few New Years together, but I've never done enough to deserve your attention.

My favourite work colleague. Who endlessly asks me out for a drink. Im not a big drinker, you always knew this, but I wish I could spend more time just hanging out with you. I'm always saying I dont have the time or the money. I'm sorry buddy. I miss you.

My literary friend. Who throws ideas off his walls like a sparkler on a cold bonfire night. I know how busy we have both become, and how hard it is just to hang out anymore, and I'm sorry. And my ex-flat mate, who actually lives on his own at the moment. Do you think I would come round more often if we had two playstations set up? lol. I should spend more time pal. I'm so sorry I dont.

There are many many others who I could mention. There are many others that over the stretch of time I have simply lost. Perhaps we all do. Perhaps people really do drift apart like this.

I can only assume its my melancholic mood thats making me think these things, plus the recognition that next year I will move away. Perhaps not forever, but for long enough that things may never be the same again.

I have found that through the net, I have done better at keeping in touch with these lost amigo's. That in some small way I can tell them whats going on in my life, and maybe get a glance of what has happened in theirs, but know that you all mean so very much to me, and I really do miss you even if I dont have the time to say so in person.

From Cherub to Chav

For those of you who have no idea what a chav is... well thats a tricky one... Wikipedia (always fun for a laugh) says

"The stereotypical "chav" is an aggressive teenager or young adult who often engages in anti-social behaviour, such as street drinking, drug abuse and rowdy behaviour. They are often assumed to be unemployed or in a low paid job. Stereotypical "chavs" typically wear tracksuits and hoodies made by sporting brands such as Nike and Adidas and listen to dance music and RnB."

Its typical of wikipedia to sugarcoat these things. I wondering how many chavs grimace at such an official and flat sounding description

You're in your car and you see a Chav on a bike....Why should you try not to hit him?
Its probably your bike

The urban dictionary, home of many an amusing alternative definition comes out with something alot more precise....

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="162" caption="Frightening huh!"][/caption]

"Picture this a young lad about 12 years of age and 4 ½ feet high baseball cap at ninety degrees in a imitation addidas tracksuit, with trouser legs tucked into his socks (of course, is definitely the height of fashion). This lad is strutting around, fag in one hand jewellery al over the over, outside McDonalds acting as if he is 8 foot tall and built like a rugby player, when some poor unsuspecting adult (about 17/18) walks round the corner wanting to go to mcdonalds for his dinner glances at the young lad, the young lad jumps up in complete disgust and says “Whats your problem? Wanna make sommin of it? Bling Bling” when the adult starts to walk towards the young lad, the young lad pisses himself and runs off to either his pregnant 14-year-old girlfriend or his brother in the army crying his eyes out."

I think you get the picture. In fact I have just seen a webisite that describes these delightful young people as a cross between a "wigger" and "white trash"... so erm.... "wigger trash???" I dont know!

What do you call a chav collecting his moms child benefit from a post office?

Sorrrrrted!

Anyhow, whilst packing with the kids today, I was reminded that even the worst chav started out as a small and often adorable child. What is it about our children that turns even the sweetest, most angelic, doting little girl into a 15 year old foul mouthed, dirty trollop? What has happened to our civilisation that allows the utter dregs of society, the laziest, most ungrateful, theiving,  joy-riding, drug crazed, disrespectful, immature and pathetic youths to happy slap their way into british culture like a childs version of the mafia?

What do you call a Chavette in a white tracksuit?
The bride.

So I wondered maybe its something we are doing. Naturally my first instinct was to turn to The Usual Suspects. Maybe its diet, too much sugar, insecticides in the food cycle, preservatives or MSG. Perhaps its bad parenting due to the nuclear family, single parents, modern working families, reliance on schools, lack of respect. Maybe its obsession with possesions, getting the latest ipod, mobile phone or Wii game or a simple degradation of society, no religious values, bad policing and useless laws.

Why did the Chav cross the road?
To start a fight with a random stranger for no reason whatsoever.

I guess all this is possible, but to find the truth I think we really need to look at our little ones. As an unqualified adult, but not a father I am in a unique position of perspective. I am encountering children but do not have the blood connection that society automatically allows us certian rights. I have to be very careful what I do and say to the children I care for, always being aware that every action I take could be scrutinised from granma to the next door neighbour.

It occurs to me that maybe we have somewhere along the way given children too much consideration. So I looked up some of the great literature on the subject, voices that the world will recognise instantaneously as being profoundly right and decent.

"I believe the children are our are future, Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside, Give them a sense of pride to make it easier"

[caption id="attachment_321" align="alignright" width="228" caption="Haiiiii-Yah"][/caption]

Whitney's portentious edict suggested that we must teach them well and let them lead the way. Im not sure Whitney has ever tried to teach a chav, it would be fun to watch, after all I strongly suspect they are a lot more inclined to listen to Bobby Browns advice on how to bring knuckle bruises down whilst wearing stupidly low pants.

And one thing you can definitely say about chavs is that they have pride, normally in the quantity of "bling" they have stolen from their grannies, or the best fastest most outrageous and loudest Vauxhall Nova they have stolen this week. I wonder if Whitney meant something more incidious, like the beauty inside being their heart, rib cage, stomach? Hmmm, perhaps I have underestimated her

Two Chavs in a car without any music. Who's driving?
The police

So what are we doing wrong to our kids to make them behave in such an anti scoial manner? I have an idea... take a look at the following picture. I believe it will be made very very clear......

[caption id="attachment_327" align="alignright" width="127" caption="Hmmm"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_328" align="alignleft" width="134" caption="curious"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_329" align="aligncenter" width="134" caption="ahhhh"][/caption]

To me, it seems pretty clear that when we take photos like these and then post it to literally millions of people on the internet, it is bound to affect our little ones, so when they turn into the teenage chavs, we only have ourselves to blame.

[caption id="attachment_352" align="alignleft" width="111" caption="I see, birds huh"][/caption]

One last point. If you are in the UK remember it is better to have tried and been happy slapped down, had your mug viewed by thousands on slappy internet sites and shown on the naional news, than not to try at all... apparently! If you are living in the US however, please note, he may look and act like Vanilla Ice, but the gun he's carrying is probably B.I.G's.

[caption id="attachment_335" align="alignright" width="150" caption="scary"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_349" align="alignright" width="112" caption="Ungh"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_339" align="alignnone" width="105" caption="erm..."][/caption]

Talk about luck

Once again I can tell you I have had a second disaster free week! Yay!

And despite my bad luck taking me from one nightmare to the next so far this year, I have to tell you that my luck is still not as bad as some. I am not refering to the guy who lost his leg in a lawn bowling accident, or the lady who has her back put out slipping on the hoover lead. I am refering to my good friend Rae.

Now not many people have had such a constantly bad run of luck, its hard to know where to start if truth be told, but I met Rae about 5 years ago. She knew i had finished my job at the clothes warehouse and offered me her taxi to run on the days she wasnt. I accepted and became a cabbie to the stars.

About 3months after that i bought my first cab and ran it happily for about 2 years. Rae however did not.

She was driving the xantia to town, and found a suitable parking spot. She turned off the engine, the suspension went down (as they do in citroens) and the bonnet crumpled. She tells me she watched the whole thing in slow motion. A bit like a monster trying to get out of a steal cage, think 'Resident Evil', his pistol thingy finally made it free.

Not undaunted, she decided to go for bust. She bought two cars, a Mondeo which she kindly leant to a friend, for a small weekly fee, and a London Black Cab (£16K from Cabs Direct, an HP firm)

Clearly Cab Direct had not looked at the vehicle, as it was filthy inside when she received it, the ashtray hadn't even been emptied. She had the vehicle a full two weeks before the automatic gearbox went whilst picking up a customer. Fortunately for her the customers were too drunk to notice the 15mile journey took them 30 minutes.

After complaining to the firm, she recieved a 7 seater. Now they had at least taken the trouble to clean this one, and fit a number of repairs before giving her the vehicle, including the Cam belt. They didnt change the Water Pump however, which when it went tore right through the Cam belt, which in turn ripped through the engine. When the AA repair man turned up, she said either your cam belts gone, or your car swallowed a cat!

Well, naturally with all this bad luck and with Cabs Direct demanding their money she reclaimed the Mondeo, only to discover an electrical fault. £600 later and no-one had a clue as to what it was. At that point she gave up the ghost and declared herself bankrupt, no longer able to sue Cabs Direct for their mess ups... well she could but she wont get a penny from it. All this was just 2 weeks after her last payment on the vehicle

She then started working for a taxi-cab firm in town, borrowing a Xsara. This is an extremely unprofitable thing to do, as instead of paying a one-off charge, you hand 50% of all your earnings to the cab firm. That one broke down at Bournemouth Airport with passengers waiting to go home. It went to the doctors and the car and the cab firm have never been seen since.

Now, today she tells me she has had an accident involving a Milk tanker. The lanes in our countryside are tight , and whilst no-one was at fault, Raes car looks like being a write off, the amount of damage to the Milk tanker... nothing!

I should take solice that no matter how bad my luck can get, I will never have as much bad luck as Rae has had in the last 5 years.

The real lesson to us all though, is that despite this terrible run, she still smiles and laughs everyday. And can still take me from being depressed to being in hysterics in 5 seconds flat. I'm so sorry for you mate, but thank you for being my friend.

The Peculiar Episode of the Male Member

Did you know, there is only one muscle on the male body that is joined on one side only. I'll tell you which one a little later, but first I wanted to remind you of my first ever blog, which was all about my disgust at people urinating in the streets. Have they never been taught to go before they leave... I mean come on... how old are they!!

Anyhow, I was picking up a young lad from Wareham station on Friday. I should have guessed things would be a little different, as although it was only 4 in the afternoon, he asked me to pick him at the pub. He had turned up early and obviously found his place with a pint and a game of pool.

Our journey was lively as his happy mood was contageous, and we blasted Guns and Roses loudly as we could scaring crows and rabbits asunder. All of a sudden with a pained ailing expression, he turns the music off and croaks "Stop the Car!"

Now as a cabbie, when someone says "Stop the Car", you stop the car! Very very quickly, else you get a car full of his breakfast. I stopped the car.

He got out... Quickly.

He ran to a bush, and to my utter shock, unzipped his fly and began to pee.

For a second things went into slow-mo, the birds twittered, the wind breezed, the trees waved. And then I spotted the Farmer... and then I spotted the shot gun... and then I spotted the young lad running!

Thank god my engine turned on first time. Thank god I found a gear change quickly. Thank god I was wearing good pants!

Just for a tiny second I imagined leaving him there to face his maker, but whilst I hate peeing in the streets, I'm not sure its a shooting offense.

Once again, one of my 9 lives has been wasted on trivial things. I can just see St Peter at the gates of Heaven saying... You have got to be kidding... you were supposed to last til 90!

Anyhow. I am now starting a campaign to stop people Urinating in Public... What do we want... a piss..... where do we want it.... in a toilet!

I hope you will all support me on this and maybe give me a donation to go towards my world wide investigation into the subject.

Oh and by the way, the answer to my question at the begining was his tongue... you filthy people!

Arse... (My friend's letter)

I promise Sally Kern will get my attention, but I spent ages trying to send an email today to a friend of mine, complete with attachment, but for some reason no matter how hard I tried I got nowhere.

Later we met up and i asked her to send me an email.  This is what I got....

Dear Mr Eggy,

Although it should be underlined somewhat that neither the author of this notation - nor his / her colleagues, close associates or those of a substantiated familial connection - can, with any close approximation of scientific assumption, adequately describe and determine the accuracy of herein typographically reproduced content, apparently there is a possibility - real, imagined or partialy realised - that this form of communication can, under certain circumstances, be classified and determined as falling within the usually expected parameters of what has been determined to be, titled as, or otherwise referred to, for identification purposes, an 'email'.

However, it should also be noted that identifying said communication in this manner can, in actuality, be perceived as misleading, at worst, and a misnomer, at best. It is, in reality - and a reality, perhaps it should be mentioned - that even a young child can determine without the aid of a laboratory. At least not one of any particularly impressive nature.

The prime clue, of course, is in the descriptive title. 'Email' is - as you are presumably aware - made up of one severely abridged word closely concatenated to another word which, incidently, started as a much smaller word than the one to which it was finally appended. Namely the words 'Electronic' and 'Mail'.

It is generally understood that 'mail' refers primarily to the process of delivery as opposed to actual content and that 'Electronic' similarly refered, in this association and usage both in practice and theory, is purely an alternative means of despach, message carrying and, subsequently, receipt. It is a descriptive pairing that covers process as opposed to content.

As such it is apparent that your request to have an 'email' sent to you must be declined on the obvious grounds that, whilst such electronic, digital or other packaged modes of graphical transportation must, by assumption of widespread popularity, be available at an electronic transmition reception station located close to you and accesible to you, if not directly within whichever residential containment location that you may choose to frequent, it is, of course, physically impossible - or at the very least, somewhat impractical. The best that can be offered is this typed message which, of course is simply a letter transmitted electronicly.

I trust this meets or, in todays society with a need to ensure overwhelming satisfaction, holds the potential to exceed, your expectations.

Yours Sincerely

R.
Kelcou (Ms)