Rocky Horror Picture Show

Well, he's here. Ain't he just the cutest?

He's lovely, and I'm enjoying spending time with him and teaching him to turn tricks. We've done sit, down, fetch, get that fucking pebble out of your mouth! I love nothing more than putting my fingers in the tripey mouth of a little dog. He's learning "DROP IT!" tomorrow.

We're having trouble with the house training. Whenever we think he needs a wee, we take him outside and he curls up at our feet. In and out, in and out; when you finally decide that he's not ready and you bring him in, he pees. Little bastard.

And he hates being left on his own in the kitchen. Leave him on his own in the living room and he curls up and sleeps. Put him in the kitchen and he wails like a baby and trashes the place. All fucking night.

It's not so much the trashing of his bed and pooing on the floor that I mind, it's his insistence on stripping the wallpaper and putting really bad lino down that I find most upsetting.

We'll get there eventually.


Pride
Me and Trump managed to avoid being stoned to death on the pride parade through a particular unnamed town to the north of Manchester on Saturday. It was actually very heartwarming to see all sorts of people watching on, many bemused, but many applauding as we walked. It made me very proud. It made me very proud of Trump.

My favourite moment of the day was at the close of the event when the compare spoke to a young boy in the crowd:

"Have you had a fun day today?"

"Yes!"

"Great! Are you going to grow up to be a homosexual? You should, it's great!"

As the laughter died down, we could hear the ears of the local BNP sympathisers prick up. Fuck 'em, cocks.

Thriller

You've seen the original,

You've seen the wedding videos

Now check out the Philippino prisoners!

I thought this was brilliant. Yes, they're real prisoners. Yes, they're really doing the Thriller dance. They find it better than daily exercises apparently.


Shat nav
Yes, Sniffy has her Shat Nav. I'm not convinced in all honesty, but it's a gadget, and you can never have too many of those. I've already had a bit of fun with it, ignoring it and going the proper way home instead of the convoluted route that it was trying to take me:

"When it is safe to do so, turn round"

Yeah right.

I'm going to see what happens when I keep going round a roundabout and missing my exit.

You put in the postcode of the street where you live or work and it takes you to the alley at the end of the road.

I want to see what it does if I drive down a tramway in the middle of town.



Somewhere, over the rainbow....
Weigh a pie.

Looking forward to the Rainbow Parade tomorrow. Perhaps if I carry my pink Union Jack, the BNP won't get me and I'll just have to fend off the religious extremists instead.

Cocks.

I need a hero

I am very excited. Heroes starts on telly tonight.

Imagine living your life as normal, with the odd weird thing happening, only to find out in adulthood that you've actually got special powers.

Similar to boy wizard Harry Potter, whose magical powers were unknown to him until he was made aware of his wizarding heritage at the age of 11. And so it ends, and that's where I've been; reading the final instalment of the series. I had to read the Deathly Hallows as quickly as possibly in case some bastard tried to ruin it for me. Four days isn't bad for me; I'm quite a slow reader.

I really enjoyed this one - a fitting end to a most enjoyable literary era. When you think about it, it's been quite unique; all these millions of children growing up with Harry and chums. With each book, the stories darkened, the writing style aged accordingly too.

So that's that.



Under the weather
Parts of the midlands have quite literally been under the weather since torrential rain caused heavy flooding at the weekend. Many towns are cut off, without a fresh water supply, without electricity. Vulnerable people have been airlifted from their homes. Those who remain can only wade through deep water to get to the shops, shops that have very little stock. Bottled water is being dropped off to the stranded by RAF helicopter. It's something akin to a third world disaster zone.

I was watching the scenes on the news the other morning and it occurred to me that Tesco were really missing a trick. With all their billions, how come they haven't invested in a few Chinooks and a frigate to drop off provisions bought through their online shopping service?


Excitement
This weekend sees me and Trump going on a Pride parade in the town where she grew up and now works. It's not the most cosmopolitan place on the planet and is seen to be home of some very polarised communities: large areas of solely muslim occupants separated from solely white areas. The demographic profile has caused problems and has been a magnet for extremist trouble makers on both sides.

A gay pride parade is probably about the only thing that will unite them.

Ain't diversity a wonderful thing?

If you're in the North West on Saturday and have nothing better to do, come along and show your support. You can contact me for details if you're serious.

If we survive the muslim extremists and BNP and get through Saturday, Sunday sees us pick up Little Rocky. Little Rocky? Who?

This is Rocky:

I've never had a dog before. I am excited.

At the moment, he is a furball, but once he is grown a bit and clipped to shape, he'll be a miniature Schnauzer.

I think the priority is getting him an appropriate neckerchief, but Trump is thinking of boring things like toilet training and discipline. I think Looshkin will have his face off within a minute if she's given the chance.

Updates to come.

Now... HEROES!

Dry the rain

This is the definition of my life; lying in bed in the sunshine...

Well, that's a fucking laugh, we've had no sunshine here since the first week of June - nothing but fucking miserable rain, with temperatures no higher than 20°C. I'm so depressed. But even so, and no matter how tempting, I hadn't gone into hibernation for the past couple of weeks, I've just been networkless.

But anyway, keen observers will have noticed a connection between a certain photo from my previous post with a certain hospital that was shown on television news after a number of foreign doctors were arrested following a botched islamic terrorist bomb plot here in the UK.

Good eh? You work at a place for 6 years and fuck all happens until the day after you leave. It probably says something about the organisation too: rubbish at balancing its books; in constant hot water with the press (fairly or not) over poor clinical services; but brilliant at turning out alleged terrorists!

According to sources back at Base 2A, Posh Scouse was at her faffing, flapping best at the news. Had I been there, I'd have been tempted to cure her hysteria the only way I know how. It would've been a mercy slapping.

Boring news things.


Hi, I'm Sniffy and I am a Virgo. I love computers and Hot Tamales!
Oh yes I do! And this week, I received two consignments of hot cinnamon delights from over the seas. I'm so happy. My gums and tongue hurt from trying to eat them by the mouthful.


Toxic Trump
She's hungover. She's been eating crap. She's sat next to me in bed. She's trumping.

We went to a barbecue yesterday afternoon - there was a gap in the rain clouds and somebody took advantage of the only dry afternoon in months. After missing the first round of food, we ate crisps; she drank beer, me, the usual Pepsi Max.

We're enjoying outdoor pursuits today too. An outdoor music festival in Salford. Middle of July, should be OK, even in England? This is the weather forecast, courtesy of the BBC.

Shit, non?

I hate this fucking country. Everything about it is totally horrible.


Tori Amos and the ADHD audience
We went to see Tori Amos last week. Trump decided that she didn't want to be there and sat, arms folded the entire evening, showing no appreciation for the wonderful musician performing on stage.

She, and I, were even less appreciative of the fucktards on our row who found it impossible to sit through a two hour concert without constantly getting up to go to the bar or the toilet. For fuck's sake, what is wrong with them? I was sat at the end of the row and on the tenth occasion that one of them returned, pleadingly saying "Sorry?" and wanting me to stand up so they could return to their seat, I was so very tempted to tell them "No, go round and disturb somebody else, cunt!". I just scowled at them instead.

They know they're being annoying, they stand there and say "Sorry, can I be really annoying (again!) and get past you?" So should they be surprised if they were told no?

I blame the education system. We were never allowed to leave class to go to the toilet at primary school. We were taught the discipline to sit through the lesson and wait until break. They're not allowed to this these days because it infringes on children's human rights. Hence, when they get to adulthood, they expect to be able to walk out of concerts, training sessions, meetings, rather than waiting until they're supposed to go.

Fucktards.

They'll learn when they have poor bladder control by the time they're forty; relying on first Tena Lady then full incontinence pads.


Little Con
Here she is!

Clearly shocked and appalled at one of Trump's farts. And equally shocked and appalled at the revelation that she can go longer without having a wee than concert audiences.

Goodbye

Goodbye Shopping City

Goodbye ducks

Goodbye Hospital

Goodbye Base 2a

So the torture is over. For now at least. I am officially on a year's secondment, taking up a post that means that I will no longer have to go to Base 2a. For the past couple and a bit years, I have shared the mental torture inflicted on me as a result of being at Base 2a. No longer will I have to listen to people complaining that it's too hot as soon as the temperature reaches 20°C.

No more shouting from Cynthia:

" insists on saying “So you haven’t got access to his electronic?”, meaning “Has such and such given you rights to his Outlook diary?”. I guess there’s nothing wrong with saying “his electronic”, it’s just that when you hear it 40 times each day at very loud volume, it becomes rather tiresome. Also, it’s indicative of how backward some people’s working practices are: I didn’t realise people used anything other than electronic diaries at work these days, especially when lots of people need to know where the head honcho is.

She’s now talking about her latest holiday:she has about 5 foreign holidays each year, it’s amazing. Then again, she washes her clothes by soaking them in the bath and claims lieu time for simply hanging around work till 6pm, so she has the time and resources to do this.

Did I tell you about the swan? There’s a little pond near here and, last spring, it was home to a pair of mating swans, as well as the usual ducks. Some charming individual killed one of the swans and it caused a fair bit of outrage, quite rightly too. However, Carmelita’s suggestion to prevent such an unfortunate event happening again was to “move all the birds to the canal, drain the pond, fill it with concrete and use it for car parking!” Yes, because the people who killed the swan wouldn’t be able to find their way to the canal, would they? Honestly. I won’t go into the episode of litter on the expressway because my arteries can’t take the surge in blood pressure at the moment. "

No more banal conversation about bargains at Aldi.

No more messy coffee-making habits.

Other posts where I complain about this place can be found: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here There are loads more, but I can't go on.

Ahhh, the relief.


Smoke signals
Of course one thing that the people at Base 2a were obsessed with was making laminated signs and posters. As I said my goodbyes in the library, there was a pile of laminated "It is illegal to smoke in this building" signs. Not the ones that you bye, but some that had been printed off, cut to size with scissors and laminated by the work experience lad. They had jagged edges; somebody should have told him about the guillotine.

It is illegal to smoke in this building. Fair enough, but I pointed out that it had been the organisation's policy that smoking wasn't allowed in buildings for some time. Many workplaces, shops, cafes, restaurants, etc, have this policy and they didn't need legislation to enforce it - people see a no smoking sign, or lack of an ashtray and they don't light up.

In fact, there are loads of things that we're not allowed to by law, but we don't have signs up all over the place. Could you imagine having signs up telling us all the things that are illegal?

It is illegal to murder people on these premises
It is illegal to operate a hand-held mobile phone in this vehicle
It is illegal to drive this vehicle above the speed limit

Fucking numpties.


Smoke-free England
England goes smoke free from 1st July. I've just been to the smoke free England website to find the no smoking sign. The information booklets are available in the following languages (this is England, remember):

• Gurjurati
• Urdu
• Traditional Chinese
• Polish
• Punjabi
• Arabic
• Turkish
• Bengali

A leaflet is also available in the following languages (feel free to download them):

Albanian (PDF, 647KB)	Latvian (PDF, 671KB)
Arabic (PDF, 711KB)	Pashto (PDF, 1,5MB)
Belarusian (PDF, 673KB)	Polish (PDF, 669KB)
Chinese (Cantonese) (PDF, 939KB)	Portuguese (PDF, 663KB)
Chinese (Mandarin) (PDF, 906KB)	Romanian (PDF, 667KB)
Czech (PDF, 670KB)	Russian (PDF, 671KB)
Estonian (PDF, 666KB)	Slovakian (PDF, 668KB)
Farsi (PDF, 1,6MB)	Somali (PDF, 663KB)
French (PDF, 671KB)	Spanish (PDF, 663KB)
Greek (PDF, 673KB)	Turkish (PDF, 666KB)
Kurdish (Kurmanji) (PDF, 1,3MB)	Ukranian (PDF, 678KB)
Kurdish (Sorani) (PDF, 1,8MB)	Vietnamese (PDF, 664KB)

I see they don't bother with an Italian translation, perhaps I should complain that they're being discriminatory.

The rest of the United Kingdom introduced smoking legislation earlier than England, they probably had all these leaflets in all these different languages too, but now England have had to pay for their own. Not so much United Kingdom as United Nations.

The hostel of Trinidad

One of the most intriguing programmes on telly these past few weeks has been Channel 4's Sex Change Hospital. It features the hospital in Trinidad, Colorado that is the sex change capital of the world.

Marci Bowers, herself a transexual, is the chief surgeon and a woman who I like. The episodes show her meeting her patients, discussing their operations, and then getting right down to the graphic details as people go through genital reassignment surgery.

It is fucking gruesome, but compelling viewing all the same. Marci is a superstar who injects more than a touch of humour as she does away with her patients' bits and doings.

There was one trans man who never seemed happy with whatever procedure he had done; plunging himself and his partner into more and more debt, just so he could have the body he wanted.

His main complaint was that his penis wasn't large enough and that he had trouble reaching orgasm. He was about ten stone overweight. In theatre, Marci had a look at him, eaked his manhood out from beneath the fatty folds and, post op, recommended that he try to clean the cheese from his nob.

Boys will be boys eh?


The Hostel
I watched The Hostel on div at the weekend. Such a gory film, such a worrisome prospect - worrisome by the fact that you could actually imagine societies that kidnap folk so that rich people can pay to torture and kill them.

Trump had to watch Shrek to get over it.

I don't think we'll be going on holiday to Slovakia in a hurry.

The Hostel and Sex Change Hospital have many similarities. It's just that Marci Bowers cuts out the middleman kidnappers and charges her own victims for their slashings and cuttings, but lets them go at the end of it.

Fucking Tesco arsing Express COCKS!

I HATE Tesco Express; LOATHE it!

I cannot believe the contrast between these sorry sack of shite excuses for shops and the proper parent Tesco supermarkets, which I love.

The only thing worse than Tesco Express is Tesco Metro, which I'll come to in a minute.

Today's insult from the retail giant's corner shop came when I visited the store close to where I work. I wanted to pick up something for lunch - I fancied sushi - and some salami and salad and stuff for tea. I was horrified to see that 95% of the store's refrigerated cabinets - and there are lots of them - were taken up by fizzy drinks and crates of beer. No food, no sushi, just beer and pop. What the fuck?

Half the vegetable shelving was occupied with crates of Coke too. Brilliant.

I bought a packet of crisps and asked why all the fridge space was taken up with beer and pop and why there wasn't any food.

"It's because the students have mainly gone home", was the response.

So people who work at the university and hospital don't need to eat then? They just want to come here for crates of booze to sup on at their desks?

Cunts.

I have a killer headache now because I didn't have a proper lunch.

CUNTS!

Tesco Metro is another of Tesco's evil dopplegangers. Jeez, these stores are torture. Millions of people, all from different parts of the globe, all with different ideas about manners, queuing, speaking in uncomfortably loud voices. We were in there the other day; a child in front of us in the queue for tills couldn't help themselves touching every single packet of whatever (sweets, chocolates) on the shelves that lined the queue. STOP TOUCHING THINGS!

For fuck's sake! Why do these little retards have to do this? Can't they keep their shitty little hands to themselves? Can't their accompanying adults make them stop??


Death stare
I was talking with my colleagues about what super power I'd like if I had the choice. In addition to the obvious - the power of flight - I'd love to have a death stare. Imagine being able to make somebody burst into tears and run away from you just by looking at them. Yeah, yeah, I do that anyway. Imagine being able to make somebody burst into flames just by giving them the dead eye? Fantastic.


Strangers in the night
The Strangers in the night ice cream van is doing its rounds again. It'll be here any second. I might go and see if it actually sells ice cream.

"Can I have a Flake 99 and... errrrm... how much for a speed ball?"

Fuckers.

Fuckers.

Fuckers.

Today is brought to you by the Number of the Beast and the word KNOCKERS!

Oh my poor head.