Sick (and therefore funny)

Police have today admitted that George Best was not in fact buried in Belfast last week and that in retrospect the decision to cremate him in Hemel Hempstead on Sunday morning might have been a mistake.........

Later, GrocerJack

Wise Words mate.....

I can't take the credit for the following, so this is a lazy post. However - I agree with the sentiments totally. Teenager is following this course exactly, and more worryingly I can see the green shoots of teenagehood starting in Baby.

Oh Joy!

Is your child approaching those glorious teenage years? Have they started sulking for England, throwing apoplectic strops, slamming bedroom doors that shake the house to its very foundations? Have they turned from a child straight out of a fabric softener commercial to the lead role in The Exorcist?

Welcome to the wonderful world of teenagers. Trust me, nothing will have prepared you for this moment ... I don't care if you've climbed Everest single handed wearing nothing but a pair of Y-fronts, living with teenagers is akin to kicking jelly up a ladder.

I have just two words to offer you as your child arrives at this life changing threshold:

Brace yerself!

Oh, and the following tips might help:-

1. Make an appointment to see the dentist. You'll be doing a lot of teeth gnashing in the years to come so make sure they're up to it.

2. Check your cushions and pillows, make sure they're strong enough to survive a good bashing and dense enough to bury your face into them when the urge to scream is overwhelming.

3. Check your house. Ensure door frames are up for the slamming, pictures and mirrors are secured firmly to the walls, stairways are solid enough to withstand heavy stomping, and carpets are prepared for the inevitable trail of mud (teenagers don't wipe feet).
4. Invest in a good dishwasher. This has two benefits. (1) Your teenager will not, if their very lives depended on it, wash up again until they have children of their own; and (2) teenagers will use every single cup, plate and piece of cutlery in the kitchen to make one meal.
5. Stock up on junk food. Yes, I know, you want them to eat healthily, but forget it, you're wasting your time. Buy pizzas, those disgusting noodle things in pots, and as many bags of crisps as you can afford.

6. Also on the subject of food, check out the microwave ... it's the only kitchen implement teenagers will use. And stock up on microwave meals like frozen curries which will, hopefully, provide a modicum of vitamins in an acceptable form. (If you're worried about their diet, might I suggest crushing vitamin tablets into their food whilst they're not looking - avoid the temptation to crush a few sleeping tablets in there too).

7. Consider taking out a second mortgage. You're gonna need it.

8. Stand in front of a mirror and practice saying the word "No." Don't move away from the mirror until you have mastered this in a thoroughly convincing way. Continually saying yes to their incessant demands for lifts and money will result in major hostilities when you dare to say No for the first time.

9. Toughen up your tongue - chew it all over for at least an hour a day until it has the texture of rhinocerous skin. This will come in handy when they bring a boyfriend/girlfriend home. If you keep quiet about the green haired, tattooed, multi-pierced monstrosity they think is God incarnate, they'll soon get bored and wander off to (hopefully) someone a bit more human - dare to voice your objections and you'll be stuck with the monstrosity for a long, long time.
10. Join a prenatal clinic. The deep breathing exercises are helpful in times of immense stress ... pretty much 24/7. Alternatively, buy a crate of good whisky.

11. Remember, at all times, that they really can't help being so loud/selfish/argumentative/
unreasonable/thoughtless - its just a phase they're going through, their hormones are raging, it'll only last ooooooh 4 years or so.

12. Remove all dangerous items from the house; this includes baseball bats, knives, any sharp objects, any heavy objects and glass from interior doors so they're not to hand when they've Driven You To The Very Edge of Sanity.

13. Keep photographs of their young, innocent faces handy to remind you of what they used to be like. Try not to cry over them too much.

14. Invest in more cushions and pillows, the bigger the better. And probably a couple more crates of whisky, too.

15. Try to avoid resorting to swear words when your tether end has been long surpassed - its not a good example to give them, and apologising afterwards can be a bit grim.

16. Don't bother arguing with them, you'll never win because teenagers are totally without logic. When they're jumping up and down screaming blue murder about the £250 trainers they Simply Must Have, just shrug and smile serenely (and push the cotton wool deeper into your ears).

17. Warn the neighbours about the increased noise levels - both from the screaming matches and from the volume of their music (well, they call it music, you'd probably call it 'Sounds from the Edge of Hell').

18. Whatever you do, don't laugh at their choice of clothing (remember what you wore at that age, probably in the 70's ... say no more). Oh, and try to pick out some distinguishing mark on your teenager so that, in a group of identically dressed teenagers, you might stand a chance of recognising them.

19. Don't expect any help from your teenager whatsoever. They don't do vacuuming, they don't do washing up, they don't do ironing, and they won't have a clue what the washing machine is for. Remember, in the eyes of a teenager, all domestic duties are 'Mothers Domain' (joy).

20. A word here about their bedrooms. They will turn into indoor council tips. Nagging, bribing and threatening just doesn't work, so save yourself the effort and simply forget about the festering filth. Keep their bedroom door shut at all times to avoid contaminating the rest of the house (occasional fumigation might be required).

21. Remember, if they smile at you, they want something (usually money).

22. NEVER expect gratitude. You've kitted out their bedrooms with every state-of-the-art technology conceivable to man, spent hundreds of pounds on petrol driving them places and scrimped for months to buy that expensive pair of trainers for their birthday, but they'll still believe you're Asking Too Much when you dare suggest they put the rubbish bags out on Tuesday night.

23. Once they reach oh-my-god-haven't-they-grown proportions, buy a stepping stool for those moments when you need to give them a swift cuff around the back of the head. Buy old copies of Land of the Giants to pick up tips on how to cope.

24. Remove all telephones from the house unless you enjoy heart resuscitation every time the phone bill arrives.

25. 3 o'clock in the morning is a perfectly reasonable time for a teenager to come home during the week - don't even question this.

26. Teenagers are slobs.Its inbuilt. Nothing will change this.

27. At the onset of hormonal angst your teenager will either abandon personal hygiene altogether or else be constantly hogging the bathroom and all the hot water.

28. Your eloquent child will turn monosyllabic almost overnight. Expect only grunts and dirty looks for at least the next two years.

29. Teenagers don't sleep, they hibernate - draped over the kitchen table, spread out like a starfish in the middle of the living room, or huddled up on the lawn during a thunderstorm. You have more chance of finding the Loch Ness Monster in your garden pond than rousing a teenager from bed in the morning.

30. Remind yourself that teenagers are retribution for what we did to our parents, so just accept the inevitable and keep dreaming of peaceful times (when they've left home and you sit there sobbing that you miss them).

Later, GrocerJack

Nothing better to do?

Fuck me, there are some weird fucking people around aren’t there? None more so than the professional TV watchers who have nothing better to with their lives than sit around watching TV in order to find things to complain about?

The latest casualty of the sad twat club is the BBC’s rather striking and innovative “talking heads” ident (as seen in p[icture) used recently to promote its digital services. Apparently a number of people found it “alarming” and “disturbing”. In some cases very young children were scared by it apparently. One has to wonder in what world these people live, and indeed, what world their children live. I mean apparently some young children are scared by Santa Claus. Does this mean all images of our jolly old toy-bringing hero should be left until after the watershed? If, say, 10 people ring in and complain about the fact that they found Jonathan Ross “disturbing” would that mean he would be dropped from the schedules? If a collective group of children found images of a cartoon rabbit scary, is that the end for Bugs Bunny?

The whole premise of the argument used by these sad moron s is destroyed in some fairly noddy examples of the “reducto ad absurdum” technique I have used above. Just for once I wish the TV companies would turn round and say a collective “fuck off” to the whiners. Just stand their ground and say something along the lines of "go and get a fucking life". In fact I would advocate the TV companies being able to broadcast anything, including hard core porn, using appropriate controls. After all I can indulge in it (maybe via a private club or a liberated set of friends), or even buy it online and have it delivered (not strictly legal in the UK but easily done) or buy it in an approved "sex" shop. But apparently I can’t film it and show and distribute it to others even if they ask to see it because …well perhaps an errant 3 year old might catch sight of it, conveniently forgetting the fact that children walk into Mum and Dad's bedroom all the time and perhaps see things they shouldn't (well not for a few years yet) …and no.....don’t even think of the “exploiting women argument” so fondly trotted out by fat, spotty dykes and vegetarians.

Surely it is parent’s responsibility to police what their kids can see. My kids have cable in their rooms but we apply parental responsibility controls to what channels they can and can’t see, so how come no one else seems capable? Or is it just society playing to the lowest common denominator again, whereby people too ignorant, thick or stupid to switch off, or control the TV output define the rules the rest of us “adults” live by.

In this day and age of “time-shift”, multi-channel and On-demand TV surely the argument for censorship is dead in the water. I think anyone who complains about TV programmes for any other reason than the quality is shit (see virtually every ITV programme) should have their TV viewing rights removed and be reduced to late night local Radio. They’d find plenty to moan about there.

Later , GrocerJack

Big Black Cloud

And so with a great amount of personal effort I finally dragged my sorry, sulky arse along to the “workshop” organised by The Company to help me learn how to deliver “difficult messages” to people. In other words how to destroy their lives, de-motivate and demoralise them, whilst helping them through the “transition curve”.

What a crock of shit.

As expected, I was patronised from the moment I went in. First we had the obligatory introduction of ourselves, including the obligatory “unusual fact” about you. I find this bit incredibly patronising. Everyone is unique I grant, but some of us have led such dull lives it’s hard to find some unique fact that others might even find remotely interesting. I thought I’d list some unique facts about me of which only one is true (and although other interesting things have happened in my life, none are fit for public consumption, least of all by the automatons I work with)…see if you can work out which is true, and which I actually quoted………

My cousin played Benny’s girlfriend in Crossroads (the one that got killed on her pushbike)

Mark Lamarr used to empty my bins

I went out with Lorraine Kelly just before dating Kate Garraway

I am allergic to water

I have 5 children by 5 different women in 3 different countries

I play the spoons in a Lonnie Donegan tribute band

I once smacked Mark Lamarr in the face after a nightclub drink spilling incident

I survived being hit by lightning when camping with Mark Lamarr on Bodmin

I impersonate Shirley Bassey at weekends for money

I once hit Mark Lamarr with a golf ball from a mis-hit drive

Anyway, it was three hours of “being sensitive”, of “not clobbering nor pussyfooting” of being “supportive yet honest” ….blah blah blah. I mean I’m 44 years old and apparently too much of a fuckwit to realise concepts such as compassion or sensitivity or humility. The course was full of silly little role play sections where to be honest most people sat around and chatted about the football or whatever. Of course, who do I get to role play with all morning? The Babe…..the Director of Pipes, Tubes and Strings, and she chose me!. To be fair she looked as if she wanted to be there as much as I did so maybe she thought I looked like a laugh, which of course I duly was. . So did I let her have both of Jack’s barrels at any point. Did I let her know of my deep dissatisfaction with my job? Did I let her know I write a blog during work time because that’s HOW exciting and fulfilling work is?

What do you think? Remember I suffer from Hypocrititis!

I did leave a warm impression I think as I cracked jokes and acted like a clown during parts of our chats. But did she see the tears of The Clown or did I mask my career unhappiness sufficiently to allow her to think I like what I do? Who knows, like I have said my woes are trivial in comparison to most, and although the slide in my morale has apparently halted I still cannot say the recovery has started, and that’s worrying because by now I’ve normally snapped out of it and decided to continue making a good fist of such a dull role.

At least I know what to expect when someone has to deliver me a a “difficult message”.

Later, Grocerjack

Time for a Change?

As a fading socialist fed up of being mugged by New Labour's hoodie clad tax regime I'm now ripe for being picked off by another party. I actually voted for the Lib Dems at the last election because that was the only tactical hope for preventing Michael “ Pssst….wanna buy a watch” Mates being re-elected.

Some hope of that in Blue-Rinse county.

However, the Lib Dems seem to have lost a bit of momentum lately. So am I about to become a Tory?

The very phrase and idea sticks in my throat like a cyanide coated rusty razor blade, but with the election of David Cameron, the taste of the cyanide/rust cocktail seems to becoming more palatable. I actually applaud this bloke's apparent willingness and desire to move away from the "traditional" yah boo sucks playground politics that diseases the alleged Mother of Parliaments. Tradition it might be, but the catcalling, insult lobbing, finger-pointing, cheap point-scoring bollocks that masquerades as democratic political debate is patronising and insults the large number of people in this country who really care about the society we live in, and the manner of how governments behave.

When we see our politicians acting in such a puerile and childish manner is it any wonder the country is awash with apathy and cynicism? Can you imagine how such behaviour would go down at your place of work? Not much of a career development strategy is it?

I vowed once never to vote Tory again (I lapsed in 1979 because someone convinced me that as a flat-owner Labour would leave me with fuck all), but as the New Labour crowbar of taxation diminishes my hard earned savings and earnings more and more each day, and the Nanny State tendencies creep in more and more (don't smoke, don't drink, don't sunbathe, don't fly, don't drive, don’t watch TV, don’t eat red meat, don’t shop at supermarkets, etc etc) the more I feel this government is on borrowed time. Cameron may be a flash in the pan, but then again maybe, uniquely, he really means it. His evident love for his wife, his apparent normal family domestic life, his regular visits to his local for a pint or two, his alleged use of drugs in previous times, his doting on his children, including a severely disabled son, his apparent willingness to introduce a new era of inclusiveness to the Tories, his anti-Thatcher acceptance of the concept of “society” and his willingness to hold back on policies rather than make promises that can’t be fulfilled are all attributes that I find interesting. Perhaps he is more in touch with life in modern Britain than the Ivory Towered hierarchy of New Labour.

I am not yet willing to commit to a swap on “red” principles of my life (fairer society, limited re-distribution of wealth, equality for all irrespective of race, sex, age, creed, size, colour, free healthcare etc) for the “blue” but maybe I’ve reached a time where my goodwill to tax dodging self employed people, along with benefit fraudsters, illegal immigrants here to screw the system and all the other ne’er do-wells of society has been drained. I hope he succeeds because this country needs a new kind of opposition and a new attitude to leadership.

Gordon Brown is NOT the future, and if he succeeds Tony Bliar (sic) then it seems to me that New Labour/Nanny State will be subject to a period of reflection on how robbing honest hard-working people blind via tax, in order to support the fucking wasters, whilst small businesses hire devious accountants to minimize their tax contribution, is NOT the way to remain in power.

Later, TaxedJack

Worth Every Penny

Tonights Shakespeare Retold was A Midsummers Night Dream. Frankly I was laughing my arse off. Yet another quality production from the Beeb and a re-telling of a tale that has convinced me even more that old Billy Boy certainly knew how to knock out a good story. Fuck the traditionalists, this is the way to spread the gospel of how iconic this bloke is in English literary history (yes, English, all the rest of the UK can fuck off on this one). Great performances as well, notably Johnny Vegas as Bottom, the ever excellent Sharon Small as Tatania, Bill Paterson as Theo...in fact they were all good.

But hats off to Dean Lennox Kelly who played Puck.

He played Puck in the style of Shaun Ryder when he was still comprehensible. And boy did he make me laugh with his narration to the viewer. Especially after administering the antidote to his "love juice" with the line "Me, I'm gonna go and pick me a big bag of mushrooms, put me feet up and get a bit of a wobble on". Magic

Later, GrocerJack

So farewell then.....George Best

Anyone who thinks that George Best deserved all he got clearly has no idea of the nature of alcoholism and the fact that its a disease. Generally people who end up as alcoholics don't choose to be that way. They drink to cope with different issues and stresses, be it fame, work presuure, bereavement or mental fragility. What's the cynics answer for people with depression or who are having a nervous breakdown? Let me guess, something like "pull yourself together, snap out of it, get a life?". If only things were that easy.

The people criticising George Best should look up the word Compassion in the dictionary along with Humility and towards the end even Dignity. And yes I know I criticised him here a few weeks ago. But I've got the bollocks to do a re-think and take a more compassionate view having watched the decline with morbid fascination over the last few weeks.

Georgie Best (as we always knew him as kids) was news, whether you liked him or not he was an icon of the 60's in the same way as Lennon, Hendrix, Charlton, Moore etc etc. For people of my age (44) he was the footballer we all wanted to be. He was the role model for us as children. he showed the way out to fame, riches and glory we so desperately wanted as young football mad boys at my school. We grew up idolising him and his journey through life was made available to us all, both as spectators and as a piece of modern iconic history documented in our glorious (sic) press. Unlike today's pampered protected stars he had NO-ONE. No agent, no minder, no-one to completely trust, no protection from the leeches of sport, from the seduction of vice, from kiss 'n' tell women and the hangers on attached to celebrities. Women wanted to be able to say he'd shagged them. Men wanted to buy him a drink in the hope of becoming his mate. He was mobbed wherever he went in his heyday, as if a little of his magical talent would rub off on those who hung around him. He was subject to vicious tackling from players not fit to lace his boots hoping to become a name for getting the better of the 60's own "Special One".

No doubt partly the architect of his own downfall, we all could be there without the support or guidance networks we build or have from birth, something which was patently missing from his life. Yes, he was a drunk, yes he was a womaniser, yes he was a bankrupt and yes he was a wife beater. But he never ever blamed anyone else for his faults. He only blamed himself. But of course none of these attributes are the features of a normal person, but are clearly indicative of a troubled soul with a different perspective on their own reality and their place in life.

He was a great footballer whose full talent was never released, an interesting and articulate man and a great pundit on Soccer Saturday, but ultimately also a tortured soul in search of something he couldn't find and probably couldn't define. I hope he has found the peace that was so obviously missing from his life and that his family are spared the normal catalogue of George Best horror stories likely to be uncovered by the gutter journo's working on the red tops.

***UPDATE***

Thanks to Inspector Sands for putting this link up - download this video. It's 18Mb and might take 10-15 minutes even on Broadband. I believe it might have been put together by some Manchester Utd fans, so full credit to them because if this doesn't convince you, or even put a lump in your throat, then you're dead from the brain down..

Later, GrocerJack