Tag Archive: Church


A cautionary note.

Okay. This week, I promise. No more stuff about the Titanic. I know it was trending, but look at it from my point of view. If I keep going on about the film, Titanic, you’ll start to get bored and the readership of this blog will start to sink faster than …

Oops!

And talking of liking something …

At the bottom of this post, you will see a like button. It’s the same sort of thing you have on Facebook. However, on Facebook, I have often wondered if people realise what they are doing with this function. You see, on more than one occasion, I’ve witnessed people posting bad news only to have loads of their friends like it. I know what they are doing, they are just saying, “Hi, I have read and was here.” Thing is, it must be a bit depressing for the user to post that he has six months to live then find all his friends apparently like the fact.

Poisonous fish … anybody?

You may recall many weeks back, my ongoing saga of the chip shop and in particular, Gothic Girl who worked there. I was convinced that Gothic Girl was in ecstatic rapture after her having poisoned me when I didn’t so much get fish in batter – more like fish in hairspray.

So, it’s been weeks since I had fish and chips but the other day, I went out for lunch with my good friends, Rich and Mikee and ordered the fish and chips at a local pub. The staff bought me my meal, and two different lunches for my friends. All was well, apart from the bones until I had an empty plate and the bar staff came to clear the table.

‘Which of you had the fish?’ one of them asked.

‘That would be me.’

‘Was it okay?’

‘Yes, lovely thank you.’

They smiled, took my plate and departed. It was then I had the thought. Hang on, there are three of us here. Why are they only asking me if the fish was okay? What’s wrong with the fish?

Is it just my paranoia, or has Gothic Girl got an more evil, older sister?

I think I shall stick to home-cooked meals from now.

Praise be …

So, Fabrice Muamba’s recovery after being dead for over an hour after collapsing on the football pitch, is being claimed to be the result of a miracle from God. Funny, I thought it was down to the paramedics, doctors and other professional medical staff who busted a gut trying to save Fabrice’s life.

Wishing you back to full fitness, Fella, and I can understand you looking in terms of a miracle, but God? The almighty wasn’t in evidence much when the player collapsed in the first place, or as the medics did the job they delicate their lives to doing. Bet they’re grateful all the kudos has gone to God and that all the religious nuts assume the medics were just pissing about pretending to work their own wonders by way of learning, technology and good training.

Talking of football.

It seems a soccer ball, lost in the Japanese Tsunami has been washed up 3,000 miles away, making it the second greatest distance a ball has ever travelled after Sergio Ramos’ appalling penalty miss for Real Madrid against Bayern Munich the other night. That ball still hasn’t come to ground, I believe.

A bit of a ding dong down in rural Somerset.

After chiming their merry way each hour for the past hundred or so years, it seems that the church bells have been silenced in the village of Wrington (I know … apt or what?). The reason for this, it seems is that new neighbour, Jonathan App and his partner Christine Hallet, claimed the noise was a nuisance.

Well. Little piece of advice. Don’t buy a house next to a fucking big church which has a huge bell in it then. Pillocks. It’s like people that move near an airport then complain about the bloody planes.

Note to Mr App. Instead of complaining and moaning about tradition – try a pair of these.

Doing my bit for recycling.

I have been trying to clear out some of my clutter and as a hoarder, I am finding this a long process. In my loft, I have about 800+ VHS video tapes, most of which I can’t be bothered with any more or I have since, replaced with DVDs. Therefore, over the past few weeks, I have been going through all those I no longer want with the intent of dumping them.

One thing my local council is good at (credit at last where it’s due) is recycling and after making enquiries, found they have these recycling banks for tapes.

Off I travelled, two full boxes of plastic and magnetic tape and found my emptying point.

Thing is, no sooner had I begun to pile my unwanted tapes inside the receptacle, I noticed what some other people must have done prior to my arrival and I stared at the titles of the tapes already inside.

‘Hang on,’ I said, ‘I’ve never seen that one … or that.’

Before I knew it, I was head down and arse in the air, deep into the recycling bin, weeding through and picking out some of the films I haven’t got.

Hmm … Clearing the clutter for the environment? Not going to plan – obviously.

There we go then.

A fine Sunday Roast and apart from that word at the beginning, not a mention of Titanic – apart from just then when I said the word, Titanic. And there … where I did it again … Oh Bloody hell. Okay, just for you lot then …

Don’t you love a happy ending? Even if she did keep him waiting 80 years after taking all the space on that raft then letting him drop to the bottom of the ocean after promising she’d never let go.

Cheers.

Nick

The Sunday Roast (19 February 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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