Tag Archive: The Voice

Holding a torch

After much deliberation, I thought I’d go and watch the Olympic Torch journey through my little town. Actually, I didn’t go into Walsall as the convoy passed very near to my son’s school fete and I thought, if I’m parked up – why not? Therefore, ignoring all the crowds and celebrations laid on in the town centre, I made camp along the A34 near the corner of Irvine Road by the 22A bus stop.

Uplifting experience? Yes, you guessed it. This miserable bastard was totally underwhelmed. It’s not my fault. I’m not even remotely interested in the Olympics. As I’ve said before, too many small organisations lost funding because of it and had to fold.

New game – Kick five balls through all five rings and you get to keep the Tower of London.

After waiting an inconvenient five minutes, I heard cheering and thought, Hey, here it comes. No. That was the preamble, namely the obligatory and blatant advertising as buses drove by promoting gut-rotting cola and some company that makes Galaxy phones. Ha … No free advertising here.

Well, the commercial break came and went, carrying it’s smiling teen cheerleaders further down the road and then another five minutes, we had the main spectacular event.

Now when I say spectacular, what I cannot put into this transcript is the immense layers of sarcasm. You see, immediately prior to the passing of the torch, the ecstatic hordes waiting, were not so much lining the road, as encroaching. Still, in the distance, I saw loads of blue flashing lights. The police would sort it – wouldn’t they? However, the solution was not one of controlled health and safety, but an old guy on a pushbike telling everybody to get back on the pavement.

Still, the torch arrived, and I even saw a handover. As it disappeared into the distance, I then heard further clapping as running behind in convoy, were about thirty police officers on foot, joining in the parade. People cheered. Some even jeered, but my main thought was, wouldn’t it have been better for them lot to run in front and move the spilling crowds back and not leave it to some old guy on a bike?

I’m never happy, am I? Seriously, though. Well done to all the officials involved and the people of Walsall for making this a success.

Football’s coming home?

Well, the English team are, yet again – predictably.

Yes, we have the usual hopes, the usual result, and the usual awful penalty misses. Actually, people are slamming England’s poor performance against Italy but they’ve forgotten one thing. Italy were bloody brilliant.

Still, what do the English people expect? Millions of fans glory hunt and share their support between five or six clubs. These clubs, bankrolled by billionaires, are filled with foreign players at the expense of home grown talent so our lads never get a look in. The supporters show passionate loyalty from the comfort of their armchairs and cheer on the same guys who are knocking our national team out of major tournaments on a regular basis. The English vilify our own players yet come September, when the new season starts, they’ll be wetting themselves when the top Euro stars start kicking a ball again on our own turf.

Still, you have to feel sorry for the England lads. It was hard. I mean … kicking a large ball twelve yards into a huge fucking net with only one man in the way. It’s near impossible.

Above we see serial diver, Ashley Young, guilty party for the first miss. Mind you, better than James Milner. He spent the entire tournament crossing the ball to an the invisible man at the other side of the field. A player only he could see.

Anyone for tennis, then?

Andy Murray, apparently plans to spend as much time away from Wimbledon this year in a cunning plan to win the tournament. Funny, I thought that was the usual tactic of us Brits at Wimbledon. We always spend loads of time away from the place. Namely when we’re knocked out in the first week.

Apparently, Murray thinks keeping his distance will make him relax and remove the pressure. No, Andy. The pressure will be off until, as usual, like Tim Henman and Greg Rusedski before you, you get within a shot of actually making the final then bloody bottle it at the last minute when it matters.

There. Gauntlet thrown. Now go and bloody prove me wrong.

What’s that coming over hill, is it a monster?

This has to be the most bizarre and ludicrous thing I have heard in many a year. Children in schools in Louisiana are being taught that God really does exist as dinosaurs still walk the earth. Their proof – The Loch Ness Monster.

Yes, creationist lunatics are getting away with brainwashing folk’s poor unsuspecting offspring by saying Nessie, the massive hoax that Scotland’s tourist industry has lived off for 80 years, is real.

Arrrgghhh! I’ve seen it all now. A mythical creature of fantasy being used to prove another creature of pure fantasy (God) exists.

Teaching kids bullshit like that … It’s not education, it’s child abuse.

What about a winning formula?

Apparently, Formula One chiefs are proposing to stage a Grand Prix through Central London. If plans go ahead, you could soon see Lewis Hamilton, Jensen Button and the rest, all racing through the capital. We are told, roads would be closed, obviously. However, why obviously? Since the advent of congestion charging, nobody can afford to drive through Central London, anyway. You wouldn’t need to close the roads; there’s nothing on them.

That’s about the only mode of transport you see traveling freely through Central London, these days who don’t have to pay congestion charges. Ask them to, and they exterminate you.

Thieves and Looters.

If I cost my company, millions, I’d expect the sack but the likes of Bob Diamond, head of fraudulent bank, Barclays, is adamant he is staying put. I know where I’d like to put him and his ilk of short-selling speculating greedy bastards – on a deserted island. That is after we’d seized back their cars, houses, money and all other ill-gotten gains.

Save our ears.

Apparently, The Voice live tour has been canceled due to lack of interest. The Voice, is yet another banal karaoke style TV talent show, full of generic wannabees singing other peoples songs. They were due to go on tour but poor ticket sales meant the shows had to be called off. Great. Now can we get rid of the TV show too?

Singer Jessie J says scrapping the tour will mean the acts can now “spread their wings” and find their own direction. Yes, Jessie. Straight to oblivion. Actually, I don’t know about finding their own direction … what about finding One Direction. The boy band from The Voice’s rival ITV show, X-Factor, seem to be doing rather well. They could give this lot from The Voice some tips.

But back to that torch …

Well, not the torch, but the day. Boy, was it tiring. That flame event, the fete, shopping in town (twice). No wonder I was knackered. Sitting writing this … do you think it’s safe to say you’ve had a long day when you then spend five minutes trying to locate the source of the steady drip, drip, drip noise you can hear, only to find out after looking, it was just the sound of your own watch ticking?



Titanic, Titanic, Titanic!

Leonardo Dicaprio, Rose, sinking ship, floating on wood, plank and freezing water. There, I’ve done it – got all the tag-lines in to boost my search engine potential.

I was speaking of this the other week and about how using certain words, actually worked. However, I noticed some other traffic too. You see on this blog, I get a lovely load of stat-counts which tell me what tools are good, and what are not. When I talked of sex, I got loads more hits. I also noticed this week, my most viewed blog was not a current one, but a roast from a few weeks back: The Sunday Roast – Pasties, Petrol and a Queen Singing Parrot. I wondered why this was and after investigation, I saw all the searches were based on my piece about the Titanic; the skit I did about Rose floating on the wood and her selfishly, not shoving across to let poor old Leo get on board, thus condemning him to a icy death.

There, a blatant and shameless reprint, partly to remind you but really, to get everybody looking again and boost this week’s traffic. It was the same with the sex talk. God, it works. And while we’re on the subject … Titanic, Rose, naked.

What, you thought I was going to show full nudity? There may be children reading this.

Anyway, I also had this other nagging thought about the film, Titanic. Not only was dear old Rose spiteful for not letting her lover onto the raft, she also carried her evil ways on right up until her death. You see, the film comes about by the adventurer, Brock Lovett, trying to recover the diamond that Rose has been wearing all her life, but he thinks is still in the Titanic. In the end, the aging lady stands on the deck of Lovett’s craft and hurls the stone to the bottom of the ocean.

How poignant. Or as I was thinking. ‘You bloody selfish woman! You did it again.’ Not only did she doom poor Leo to reside on the bottom of the Atlantic, she now wastes that guy, Lovett’s time by having his crew spend thousands trying to find the diamond and when he is within touching distance, she chucks it overboard. What a cow! I mean, Brock’s even given her an all-expenses paid passage on his boat in order for her to tell him that long-winded story, and how does she repay him? She does that!

And speaking of Titanic – still …

There does seem to be a massive hoo-ha at the minute over the Titanic because of its 100-year anniversary. This was none more evident than the bizarre cruise taken by those on the MS Balmoral. Here, people booked five years in advance to party, buy t-shirts saying ‘I survived the wreck,’ and then spend many hours listening to tales of how 1500 people died in the freezing cold of the Atlantic Ocean.

Tacky … or what?

A case of sore heels.

My barmy local council are at it again. They have chosen not to have the election count in the town hall but at a college campus instead. They have also banned women from wearing high-heels in case it damages the floor.

Yes, I know, this is Walsall we’re talking about and most women here wear trainers and tracksuit leggings. However, there are a few that still have a little style and we now have the prospect of them standing on the podium waiting for results to be announced, all wearing their croc shoes.

An idea of what your average politician should be wearing this year.

It’s all bull. I know the real reason and it’s not to do with protecting the floor, either. These local government events can get a little feisty and it doesn’t look good for the results to be announced with the Conservative Party Candidate, standing smiling with a six-inch stiletto sticking out his ear.

Exhibit number one, Your Honour …

Headline of the week.

So … Sharon Explodes. Why, did her artificial implants spontaneously combust?

Apparently, Mrs Ozzy Osbourne is a bit miffed that pop mogul and promoter of all things banal, Simon Cowell, has a book out which apparently, drags Sharon into his seedy and debauched world. How dare he? I mean, talking gutter stuff and all things catty and full of sleaze? That’s Sharon’s job – surely?

Sharon Osbourne. Proof that you can have absolutely no talent and still earn millions from the entertainment business.

And speaking of Simon Cowell …

Do we really want to know all of your dirty little secrets? Funny timing though. Bring out a warts and all book when your TV show isn’t going too well while it’s up against new rival, The Voice. Mind you, that’s just what we need, another freakin’ talent show, thrusting more generic and insipid tripe into our ears. I remember when music had passion.

It’s Sunday, but at least Titanic has finished on TV.

No, I don’t mean the James Cameron version, not the one I’ve spent this entire blog talking about. The Cameron epic is the one that has had a few little gimmickry tricks superimposed and is now being flogged to gullible audiences in our cinemas as a new film. The Titanic I’m talking about is the ITV dramatisation that finished last week. I’ve been watching it with my daughter who sadly, seems to be becoming obsessed with the Titanic. She keeps looking it up on the internet, reading about it and searching for clips on YouTube – and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Sorry … couldn’t resist.

Now this new version of the tragedy was shown over four weeks and apart from being tediously dull, had an irritating style of plot. Each of the first three episodes kept going back to before the voyage started. You see, the action (Coughs – Yeah, I know) is interwoven with bits of the story you have already seen in previous weeks. All three episodes before the final one, ended on a cliffhanger, meaning yes, we have to see the bloody thing go down over and over again. It was confusing. There was one good thing though. At no point did I see some useless girl on a raft taking up all the space while her young lover freezes his bollocks off in the icy waters before joining the great refrigeration department under the sea.

There. Had to get it in again, didn’t I?



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