Archive for February, 2012


The Sunday Roast – Britt tackles the Brits

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February 26, 2012

Am I mellowing?

In the months between my last Roast on Myspace and setting up the site here, I posted the odd comment on Facebook. This was mainly for lack of anywhere else to spout off. One of my many observations during this time, was the poor service I got from Gothic Girl at a local chip shop. You see, I have found a really nice fish and chip shop but it seems, good chips come with a price. Every time I go in, I have to wait fifteen minutes as they haven’t got anything cooked. Now listen. It’s called fish – and chips, it’s what they sell but never have any ready to serve.

I digress; you get the gist. Service is poor and last week was no exception. Unfortunately, for this blog, I can’t bring myself to have a go at Gothic Girl today as she was so bloody pleasant to me. I’m going soft, I can’t do it to the poor Corpse Bride.

What am I going to do? I’ve lost my touch. I can see it now. Next time I go into Pizza Hut to be told they’ve run out of dough, I’m going to say, ‘That’s okay, I’ll have pasta instead.’

Arrgghhh! What is happening to me?

And the winner is …

Apparently, Robbie Williams has been voted the world’s hottest man. Why, has he been sitting on a radiator all day? I have to admit, I never could see the appeal in terms of good looks for this fella, apart from the obvious “He’s rich and famous,” line. Perhaps it’s me and the fact I don’t understand what sort of looks women go for, in general. What I do know is, I always think Robbie is the spitting image of the stereotypical guy who stands behind news reporters and pulls silly faces. Oh well, at least he didn’t win a Brit award this year.

And speaking of the Brits …

The economy is in crisis, Syria is being bombed to bits but the biggest news in the UK is … that Adele had her Brit Award acceptance speech ruined to allow Blur to perform their set. Yes, Adele, the worldwide singing sensation (or monotonous dirge, depending on your viewpoint), was just about to thank everybody from her mum to the local postman when compere, James Cordon, was told to cut her off in mid-sob as the show had overrun. I have watched it now on You Tube and haven’t a lot of sympathy because if she hadn’t spent an entire minute trying to milk the crowd while fawning about saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she might have got a few words of note into an acceptance.

Still, she was booted off the stage while displaying a disgraceful finger gesture to allow 90s pop band, Blur, onto the stage.

Blur had earlier won a special award for outstanding contribution to music. I’d be more impressed if they hadn’t spent six of their 21 years together, in a hiatus. How the hell is that an outstanding contribution?

At least the fantastic Foo Fighters won an award for best international group; much deserved after the excellent ‘Wasting Light,’ album last year.

The award that amused me was the one for best single, won by teeny group, One Direction. They may have polled more telephone votes, but do their fans realise you should get the bill payer’s permission (their parents) before ringing in.

One Direction – A group of guys who got lost following the leader in Peter Pan, it seems. Ugh! There’s only one direction my volume goes if I hear them on my car radio.

Not the best idea in the world.

Okay, lesson for the future. Don’t watch the Jeremy Kyle Show while you are eating.

Spaghetti bolognese did not taste good after watching her. And yes, the personality was as vile as she looks.

Nob of the week

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear tyrant …

Happy birthday to you

Robert Mugabe turned 88 this week, still presiding over a country whose population’s average life expectancy is only 34 years of age. There’s no justice is there? Mugabe says the success of living longer is to give up alcohol, smoking and red meat. Yes Robert, as your country is in poverty, your people don’t do any of that anyway. The real success of living to a ripe old age in Zimbabwe, it seems, is to become a ruthless dictator and live in luxury while the rest of your people starve. Then they too, may live to be 88.

Look at the King, look at the King, look at the … er, Queen?

I’ve never got it – London Fashion Week and any kind of fashion nonsense to be honest. It always shows just how true the theory of the Emperor’s New Clothes, is. All these people fawning about over models dressed in carrier bags held together with safety pins; who are they kidding that they think it’s good?

However, the best was this week when at a show, hats were paraded by models in the nude – apart from the hats, that is. As I say, Emperor’s New Clothes has come full circle now and you’re not telling me that any of the audience were not simply ogling the naked women.

Still, I suppose it was better than looking at the rubbish hats.

The worst leaving present – EVER!

One of the other things I posted on Facebook in my blogging absence was this picture of Roger Medwell and his farewell gift on retiring after 55 years with British Aerospace.

‘Hmmm … I wonder what they’ll get me: some garden furniture, a stereo system? Even an ornamental clock would do. Oh, here it is now …’

‘Bugger!’ Grit’s teeth. ‘Smile Roger, smile.’

Mind you, when I finished with West Midlands Police, the only official thing given to me was a certificate stating that I had worked for them for 17 years.

Yes, thanks for that, but seeing as it was me who worked there, I did actually know this in the first place.

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast (19 February 2012)

Filed under: Sunday Roast — 8 Comments
February 19, 2012

So we’ve had Valentine’s Day since the last roast.

Can’t say I’ve been a fan over the years because as I see it, every day should be Valentine’s Day and not just because Clinton’s Cards, tell us we should be spending more money. It’s a rip-off. I mean, you can get some great meal deals at restaurants these days yet come February 14, prices are hiked to fleece us.

Having said all of that, I was aware that I have been going out with Angiebabe for over seven months now and it was out first Valentine’s together. Also, I saw the wrapped presents that she’d bought for me. Therefore, Valentines Day – we did, swapping chocolate hearts, blue-nosed bears and love hearts, plus I had a beautiful card from her. After this, I was then surprised when she said she had one more special present to give, something to keep me company. Yes, for when she isn’t here, she knows I get lonely and has agreed to share me with another woman that she herself, chose.

Okay, not exactly what I was expecting but I will remain true and faithful to Angiebabe. I shall be good and try not to puncture my new friend. Let’s face it, I’d hate her to go down on me.

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?

Don’t know about this Sunday, but last week wasn’t good for the poor soul wearing the wolf costume at the Wolves verses West Bromwich Albion game that day.

Yes, I know he looks full of spirit and hope BEFORE the game, but take a look now … after the fifth goal went in during a 1-5 mauling on their own turf.

You have to feel some sorry for him. Imagine witnessing a humiliating drubbing from your bitterest of rivals … and then having to walk all the way home – in your wolf costume.

Lost in translation.

Apparently, Brummie Debie Roysten had a bout of the flu, then ended up speaking in a French accent as a result. Is she taking the piste?

Nobs of the week.

This would be anybody involved in the case surrounding the failed inheritance of Caroline Barrett. The 28-year-old, lost out on over £200,000 when a High Court agreed with certain members of her family that deceased gran, Bridget Murray, had not wanted Caroline to get a share. The reason for this (wait for it); Mrs Murray, a supposedly devout Catholic, didn’t approve of her granddaughter living in sin for 18 months before she wed, so stated she was not to get a penny.

Yes I know, it was her money to do as she wanted but it doesn’t sound very Christian to me. Hope the rest of the bitter and twisted family are happy now with their 30 pieces of silver, having cast out one of their own.

Every day I hear something new about religion, the less I want to do with it.

And talking of churches …

Okay, the church has done nothing wrong this time, it’s simply an old sign from my local council that never fails to amuse. On the top of Church Hill in Walsall, you will see a sign, pointing the direction to the town’s attractions. Most go one way, but look at the arm pointing to the right that states where to find St Matthew’s Church.

Now take a look at the bigger picture and the sign six foot away and huge building about another twenty beyond that.

Erm, do you not think the huge limestone building in the background with a 170ft spire is a bit of a bloody giveaway that there is indeed a church there?

It was always going to happen.

Last year, Rupert Murdoch’s newspaper, the News of the World, was exposed as having hacked phones. We all know it’s just the tip of the iceberg and that they’re all probably doing it but nevertheless, supremo Murdoch sacrificed his golden lamb and called a halt to the paper’s 168 year history.

Now that was all very well and good, if it was always going to stay that way but as everybody predicted, similarly sleazy paper, the Sun, is soon going to be published on a Sunday. Now as this rag was the weekly sister paper to the News of the World and part of Murdoch’s empire, can anybody see what difference we have apart from a name?

Now we have his trash and gutter-press again, seven days a week to stir up hysteria and hatred like the headline below.

That was the banner on Friday 17, reporting of the arrest of a 26-year-old, accused of the senseless killing of a teenage girl. Yes, she may have been a Goth but whatever the killer’s fashion-sense happens to be, she is simply a killer.

As a result of this idiotic sensationalism, are we going to have some brain-dead morons targeting those who live in a Gothic way, just because some paper brands that particular lifestyle as being weird?

There are some decent people out there after all.

I’m not sure I’d want to brag about this one though, because when Ian Roberts and Pam Curtis found over £21,000 in a bag inside a wicker basket on their doorstep, the police were fairly certain it was as a result of a bungled drug deal. As nobody has come forward to claim the cash, the couple have quite rightly, been able to keep the money as their own. They have since gone public, saying they plan to donate the cash to a regeneration project for a local park. Good for them.

However, if it was me, I’d still be wary of having my smiling face in pictures, gleaming about good fortune when there’s maybe a really pissed-off drug dealer with a gun out there who’s upset that he no longer has his money.

Right … my bath’s ready.

I’m off for a soak with the other woman.

Cheers.

Nick

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Living with David (Coping with an Autistic Adult) – The Fight with the DWP

Filed under: Autism — 12 Comments
February 16, 2012

David is my teenage son and autistic. When first diagnosed at the age of three, the doctor told me he would never develop mentally. However, over the years he has evolved within his own world. Here I hope to tell of some of the strange but sometimes wonderful things about him and hopefully give a little insight and understanding into living with autism.

November 7 2011 – David turned 19 years of age. Being at the top end of the autistic spectrum with severe learning difficulties, he gets Disability Living Allowance (DLA) with a mobility component which funded the car. Without that car, we would have to use public transport. With David having temper meltdowns at the slightest noise trigger, the thought of travelling on a crowded bus filled me with dread. Still, all the DWP (Department for Work and Pensions) had to do was read the huge amount of evidence sent to renew his claim after him getting the benefit for the previous 10 years. I mean, they haven’t changed their qualifying criteria and unless I’m mistaken, nobody has found a cure for autism in that time.

I put the claim in, waited for his birthday and the response. What I wasn’t expecting was David to fall victim to our coalition government’s purge on blasting the disabled by demanding the DWP cut the amount they pay out, by 20%.

David’s mobility allowance was slashed; the car was taken back.

Now I understand, in these times, the need for cuts but you have to make sure you get the decision right. Two months I fought, every day asking for review while sending in further supporting information – all to no avail. After a huge cloud blighting Christmas and the surrounding time, the car went in January and we were stranded. I found out that the decision was made on the recommendation of a health professional (employed by the DWP), misreading a document sent by the school. The school said, “David’s learning age is at National Curriculum Level 2,” and they put it in capital letters. That level is what you expect of a seven-year-old – at best. David is 19. Despite that and the fact the school also supported the evidence of his violent outbursts, the health professional sided with the DWP by saying David wasn’t severely mentally impaired for his age and that his behaviour wasn’t an issue. Tell that to the three people he’s attacked and the damage to my house he’s caused since they made the decision.

I suppose doors can be replaced but it’s a pity that the health professionals at the DWP aren’t as rigorous in meeting their customers as they are misinterpreting secondhand information.

I appealed their wrong decision, as is David’s right. I sent in supporting evidence from people who have been affected by his outbursts, a strong letter from his school regarding his age-related learning, another letter from his doctor and finally, a statement from our Member of Parliament who took one look at David and saw what anybody else that meets him can see – He IS severely mentally impaired.

I was totally confident of the appeal but needn’t have worried. Today, I received a letter from the DWP regarding the appeal. They have changed the decision in David’s favour and therefore, his appeal is not necessary.

Yes, not only have they now accepted what everybody who supported the claim has said all along, they have backdated it in a full admission of their error.

The pity is, the damage is done. Three months we have had this – lost the car and now have to re-apply for another. It’s more than a car anyway, it’s what it stood for. People persecuting David for a disability he never asked for and one I certainly never did either as I continue to give up my life to be his carer.

The message is simple though. Never give up. If you have children and loved ones with autism, or any kind of disability and find yourself victims to cuts and government bureaucracy, fight it all the way.

We have won this one but do I feel like celebrating? Not really. Not when it concerns something he should never have been penalised for in the first place.

 Nick


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The Sunday Roast (12 February 2012)

Filed under: Sunday Roast — 2 Comments
February 12, 2012

I’m back and roasting away on a Sunday.

The furnishings may be different but targets remain the same. Here I take a sideways look at life and have the odd swipe at anything I deem fair game. For those who never saw the old Myspace blog – I hope you stick around now you’ve found me.

I am really happy with the new site but have to admit, it did take me a while with my technophobia, to get to grips with setting it up.

One of the things I found interesting was the WordPress tutorials and the constant references to napkins. Yes … I can see your puzzled expressions but I kept getting advice to write all of my ideas on the back of a napkin. Why? Wouldn’t a word document (seeing as I’m already on the computer) do the job just as well?

Napkins? Do WordPress have stakes in a party supplies firm that went badly wrong and they now need to get rid of all their stock?

Let the bulldozers roll!

It was sad to see pictures of West Bromwich Police Station waiting to be demolished. Sad mainly because of the activity during the preceding twelve months prior to its demise where management authorised decorations to cells, new signs on the front of the building, new shelving in stores, numerous other alterations and just about every department moving from one office to another in a bizarre game of musical chairs. All this in a place imminent to be bulldozed.

For the past three years, staff have worked tirelessly and with great professionalism while under the threat of job losses yet despite huge cuts, money was still wasted on a station with no future.

Organisations like the police need leaders with a vision for the bigger picture in a long term way. Unfortunately we appear to have those in charge who only see as far as the latest office makeover.

Nob of the week.

Quite astonishing has been the rant between comedian Sarah Millican and some of her fans. While performing at the Wolverhampton Civic, Ms Millican engaged in banter with the audience over filming on mobile phones. This seemed to be light-hearted until the row continued on a social networking site with Millican wanting recordings deleted, stating those filming were not welcome at any future concerts.

What planet is she on? Does she not realise without her fans, she is nothing. I will certainly look at her in a different light next time her whining voice is thrust upon me from the television.

She accused those responsible of partaking in nothing short of theft. Hmmmm. Got a new DVD you want to flog Sarah?

I kind of go with the thinking that if people are willing to shell out £20 to come and see you perform, it’s a bit of an own-goal to start slagging them off afterward.

An interesting phone call I took just now.

‘Could I speak to Mr Bright?’ a man with a very hard-to-follow accent, asked from the other end the line.

‘It’s Britt,’ I said.

‘Mr Bright?’

‘BRITT!’

A long pause ensued until finally, the caller spoke again. ‘Mr Bright … I am ringing about a threat to your computer?’

‘Oh yes; go on.’

‘We have been monitoring and it seems your system has become infected.’

Oh Christ, it’s a Sunday, I don’t want cold-callers on a Sunday. ‘Let me stop you right there. There are no threats on my system, I am fully protected and there is no way, unless you have my IP address, that you could know about my system. In fact, the only threat to my system at the present, would appear to be you.’

Cold Caller was undeterred and continued with his spiel until I said I wasn’t interested in anything he was trying to sell.

‘I am not trying to sell you anything,’ Cold Caller said.

‘Then why are you ringing about an infection on my computer?’

‘I haven’t said anything about your computer.’

‘Yes you have, it was your opening line.’

He tried to continue but I’d entered “rant mode” by now. ‘Look, I’m not interested. You’re a scam trying to hack into my computer and if you are a genuine company, give me your business name.’

He did. He said it was ‘Pitt.com.’ I thought I’d check them up later so I asked for his phone number too and he gave me a number that despite him claiming to be calling from America, coincidentally matched my own home line apart from the last digit.

‘You think I’m stupid don’t you,’ I stated. I asked for his name.

‘It’s Pitt,’ he says. ‘P-I-T-T.’

‘And your first name?’

‘Brad. B-R-A-D.’

‘Brad Pitt? You are having a laugh now.’

He claimed he wasn’t but I’d lost it by then. I said as it happened, it was me who was making the joke. I had no intention of doing business and I was just keeping him talking to pump his company phone bill higher and as long as he wouldn’t hang up, I wouldn’t either.

‘You are very funny,’ he said. ‘Ha ha haaa!. Ha ha ha ha haaa! Can you hear me laughing? Ha ha ha ha haaa! Ha ha haaa! Ha ha haaa! Ha ha ha ha haaa …’

Five minutes later.

‘Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha …’

‘Look, I’m going to stop you there,’ I said. ‘Bored now. I don’t know why you won’t go away but it’s your phone bill. However, I need to go somewhere for a minute, therefore I’m going to have to put you on hold.’

I stuck the phone by my computer speaker, clicked the media player and started playing Queen. And I left him. I’ve made a cup of tea and he’s halfway through ‘Headlong’ now. Think I should see if he’s still there?

Load of scrap.

There they go again. ‘Scrap Ironnnnn!’

There wasn’t any here when you passed half an hour ago so why do you think they’ll be some when you come round again now? The amount of time your dulcet tones invade my ears these days, I’m guessing the scrap reserves will be all tied up in the next few days.

Anyway …

That wraps up my first Roast in the new home so I hope you’ll join me again. I’m off to see if Cold Caller wants to listen to ‘Night at the Opera’ next.

Cheers.

Nick

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Living with David (Coping with an Autistic Adult) – Last Friday

Filed under: Autism — 13 Comments
February 6, 2012

Two different sized bags are packed, both filled with clothing, balloons and A3 laminates as I wait for the taxi to take him to school. The balloons and pictures are in his school bag along with other things necessary to help maintain order during the day. In addition, he has a digital camera around his neck, hanging from a lanyard and huge headphones blasting sound from his MP3. These are not music recordings but his own creations, accompanied by the strains of him shouting and clicking. I laugh; even when he’s quiet, you get to hear the pre-recorded version.

An extra-large holdall containing clothing for the weekend also has his playstation and as many Thomas the Tank trains and track he can get away with taking. You see not only is he going to school, for the next few days, he will be in respite too. This is my chance for a break, the opportunity to relax and rebuild a bit of strength in order to start again next week in the ongoing battle to maintain the support he needs. Not many people do help either. He is 19-years-old now and built so big, most shy away.

Respite is good though; he enjoys it and I get a break. It’s been a while since a similar scheme under the children’s service. There he would have regular temper meltdowns and I would be called to come and collect him, rendering the respite useless. Now he is an adult in an adult respite home. Things have gone smooth so far and I have begun to relax. He’s in his eighth stay with no problems and it couldn’t be better. I wave him off to school, bags and all.

I go into town, eating out for breakfast then enjoy a lovely day with my partner. We plan to go out in the evening too, free of any thought of the hurdles involved in a carers life.

Five o’clock, I get the call. He went into the yard at the respite home, hoping to film a helicopter he could hear flying overhead. He did this and even though smiling, something in that instance triggered a temper meltdown, culminating in him attacking a member of staff.

They say everything is okay and will only call me again if there are further problems, but the damage is done. David is heavily autistic; he has serious behaviour issues and even though I do not have to collect him on this occasion, respite in my mind … is cancelled.

Living with David - Every day a new challenge.

Nick

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Read Me

Filed under: Poetry — 10 Comments
February 2, 2012
Read me,
read me,
don’t turn the page and leave me.
I desperately crave
your undying attention.
Welcome gratification,
too good to even mention.
Daubing my soul
across an empty wall.
Many inane, unread words
in semi-literate scrawl.
Adulation
with frustration,
always wanting so much more.
Another daily offering
from a mad poetic whore.
So please come along
and join in with the party.
Plain speaking,
bullshit free
and nothing too damn arty.
Release on me some feedback
and comments full of cheer.
Or if it’s just not good enough,
a sign to say you’re here.
Kudos to all the poets then
and words with a such a bite.
I trust I always entertain,
for that is why I write.

© Antony N Britt

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The Death of Myspace

Filed under: Writing Stuff — 22 Comments
February 1, 2012

Antony N Britt (Nick) used to blog on Myspace.

‘What?’ I hear you ask. ‘Myspace allows you to blog?’

Yes, it’s true, though these days you’d be hard-pressed to recognise such an outlet for writers ever existed. If you hook up to the once great social network site now, you’ll see a front page loaded with music, music and … erm, more music. Do not despair though, it’s not all filled with tiny tempered dappy rappers. Somewhere at the bottom of the screen, hidden among the small print and the report abuse control, are functions directing you to celebrities, fashion, games and so on, if you like that sort of thing. What you won’t see these days is any clue that you can actually blog on the site as millions used to do in the Myspace glory days of old. Instead, you are more likely to be encouraged to click the links which will tell you ‘what’s trending,’ instead.

Trending? Give me strength.

Well, I can see from today’s notifications that Taylor Swift, Ghost Rider 2 and Rhianna’s reality TV show are trending, but one thing isn’t at the moment – blogging.

Myspace was once a fantastic, ready-built website for the casual blogger and it certainly served me well with my ‘Empty Souls’ blog. Built up over a number of years, ‘The Sunday Roast’ column regularly topped the popularity charts the day following being posted. I could get anything up to 500 page views and 100 comments and it wasn’t just me either. At its height, half a million blogs went online each day on Myspace. Now, as it stated this morning – 11,952.

The Sunday Roast, along with hundreds of thousands of other blogs vanished as users deserted Myspace on a scale not seen since Gary Glitter sent out annual renewal slips for people to be a member of his fan club. Many Myspace bloggers found new homes in refugee camps such as Friendburst and My Boomer Place. Some, like this writer here, decided to develop their own blogs on Blogger or WordPress where we can now do what the hell we like, which suits me fine as I usually do anyway. You see sites like Myspace might think they know what the user wants. They might also try to disregard our opinions and remove us, but they can’t stop us writing.

I have been quiet for too long. Myspace is dead. This … is MY space

The potential latest Myspace logo

Nick

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