Tag Archive: Titanic

Highlights of 2012

December 30 - 2012

What I thought I’d do this week is what many publications or television programs put out this time of year. We’re going to have a nostalgic look back at some of the pieces which I’ve roasted about during 2012. Or to put it another way – recycle a load of crap because I can’t be arsed to write a proper blog this week.

With that in mind …


Ha! There was no January. I only started this site February 1. However, as I’ve pointed out on a number of occasions, the Sunday Roast ran for three years on Myspace. The decline of that site was the reason I decided to set up my own, but I am always thankful for Myspace,  even if it is now a total bag of shite.

June 10 Myspace


Okay, this has to be one of my favourites, straight from the off.

Poor Roger Medwell. Imagine the scenario. You spend 55 years working for British Aerospace and on retiring as a director, they give you this …

Feb 12 roger-painting

Smile, Roger, smile. Stop gritting those teeth. You didn’t want a new surround sound system, anyway.


If you follow my blogs, you’ll know I have a love/hate relationship with my own Walsall Council. I love to bait them, and they hate me for it. So much so, I’m told my site has been blocked, meaning council workers cannot read it while at work.

Anyway, after one of our spats, I trawled through their Twitter feed and came across this picture of their attempts to promote the town.

March 18 Hooker

What exactly are they trying to attract – prostitution? I think the idea was to display a layout for planned improvement. However, all it seemed to show was a damn good place to pick up hookers.


This was a Titanic month. In fact, it was a theme which went on for quite a while. You see, I’ve always had this beef with the film, Titanic. You know, the fact that Rose is safe in the lifeboat but jumps back on board thus endangering Jack. All that, “I jump, you jump,” nonsense. If she’d stayed on the bloody lifeboat, Jack would have had that piece of wood to himself when the ship went down. Not only that, it was bloody well big enough for the both of them.

April 1 Titanic Water 2

Couldn’t she have given him a turn? And then there was his last words to her. “Don’t let go, Rose, don’t you ever let go.”

So what does she do? She bloody let go. Her may not have been dead, just in cold storage for a bit. What a cow.


It was about this time I had loads of people searching for pictures of the dentally challenged when I did a bit about guests with bad teeth on the Jeremy Kyle Show.

Sorry, no dentures today. That was drilled to death in the summer. Go and search the archives.

My favourite piece this month showed the fine line between humour and tragedy, and that newspapers need to have a bloody good copy editor before they send the thing to print.

A note to anybody in the newspaper industry. Always check for inappropriate advertising placement before you run a story above it.

May 6 Headline


This was it, the month when I took the kids on their annual holiday, only for it to piss down all week. As well as getting rained on, I was kept awake with my caravan being ten feet away from a main road. I also faced financial ruin after spending all my cash in amusement arcades because I couldn’t go anywhere due to  the aforementioned rain.

But did it end there? No! Not only did the machines bankrupt me, they wouldn’t pay out on the few occasions I did win.

June 17 Fruit Machine

Yes, IOU £1. That’s the first time I’ve ever been given an IOU from a machine.


And to celebrate his 94th birthday, Nelson Mandela turns into a chameleon.

July 22 Chameleon Mandela


And I can’t believe after many months, some people were still using their search engines to find Jeremy Kyle Teeth and ending up with me.

No – still not going to show any pics but one thing I did comment on was the evolution of man. You see, scientists reckon in a few million years, the human race will have evolved into a higher and lower species.

Millions of years? It’s already happened. Look!

Aug 11 Evolution of Chav

Ascent of man? I bloody hope not.


Bit of a quiet month over here, but not in Haren – Holland after some silly girl posted on Facebook that she was having a party. 4000 people gatecrashed the event causing riots and thousands of pounds worth of damage.

Sept 30 Haren

4000 people! Imagine. That’s 4000 people without a social life.


I spent much of this month traumatised after a good friend of mine, Rich, pointed out that the picture of the smiling Aquafresh family from the 80s, seemed to suggest the mother and father were siblings and their child could be the result of an incestuous relationship.

Oct 21 - Teeth

I’m still receiving counselling.


November – I saw this strange sight.

Nov 25 - Solo Chair in Wolverhampton © Antony N Britt

A single seat for shoppers to sit on. All the others in Wolverhampton Centre appeared to be of a two or three seat variety. However, this one was on its own. A seat for Nobby No Mates.

Only in Wolverhampton.


Two words to sum up December.

December 23 - Bah Humbug!

So that was 2012.

Not sure how long I’m going to go on roasting. Could be time for a break. Like a jar of pickled onions, there’s only so much you can take before things start to repeat. I mean, how much more can I wring out of the Titanic nonsense, or talk about Gothic Girl while going on about people with bad teeth on Jeremy Kyle.

Yes, I certainly think I should leave the latter, alone.

December 30 - Jeremy Kyle Teeth



Katie opts out of Cruise control.

It was always going to be a matter of time before Top-Gun movie darling Tom Cruise, said farewell to his latest wife. Anybody that spouts religious bullshit on a regular basis is always walking a fine line but to promote Scientology, you have to wonder how he has any credibility left.

Scientology is an oddball cult which appears to be little more than pyramid selling on a religious level. In other words – a con. Scientology was created by L Ron Hubbard and his profession as a writer of science pulp fiction, says it all. Scientology tells us that we are but astral energy, trapped in human form. In fact, when Hubbard died, his followers told us he’d abandoned his body to carry on important work in another part of the universe. Hmmm … I reckon there are many involved in this nonsense of a cult whose minds have long departed this planet, but ironically, still appear to be active here.

Above we see Mr Cruise practising in his spacesuit for the day he ascends to that astral plane. However, it is no joke for wife, Kate and daughter, Suri. Can you not blame a mother in fearing for her child’s well-being? She has serious fears. I mean, she should know, after five years being married to Cruise.

Scientology is not officially recognised as a religion but is exempt from UK tax as it alleges it is a non-profit organisation. However, for something supposedly not in it to make money, there are an awful lot of properties owned by the cult and some very rich people – at the top.

Mind you, it’s the same as any other religion. Promises eternal existence, but is simply after your mortally-gained wealth.

Yes Katie. I’d keep her very close to your chest – and don’t bloody let go.

Boy. I must stop forgetting what I’ve left in my living room.

The other week, David came home with a puppet he made in school. Now when I say puppet, this one is about three feet high with a head that’s real-sized, as you can see below.

It’s really good and he did, apparently do a lot of the stitching himself. However, the first night it came home, I placed it in the far corner of the living room, went to bed, forgot it was there. Next morning in the gloom at six, I walk bleary-eyed into the room, turn and … Arrrgghhh! My God. I wasn’t expecting to see that out the corner of my eye. It’s the most frightening thing since David left the home video of 2001, on pause and I walked in to see the face of my ex-wife grinning back at me on a 32” screen.

Mind you, David’s puppet reminds me of a sight we saw on holiday. This was at the other end of the road away from our caravan.

Imagine walking past that every day to get a packet of cornflakes. Simon Cowell in a grass skirt. Yew!

She’s a bit Gaga …

So we have a storm in a teacup about Lady Gaga doing a song about the death of Princess Diana. I was amazed when I heard. I mean, has she only just found out the princess is dead? You can imagine the Gaga comeback tour of 2028. Opening number – Wacko about Jacko.

Lady Gaga – Keep up with the times, Dear.

Crime scene? Some of that music is criminal. I tell you.

On the menu last night …

Ugh! I spent a lovely couple of minutes clearing up what can only be described as congealed badger vomit after suffering the stench beforehand. The residue, also more commonly know as Pot Noodle, belonged to David, and he’d spilled it on the carpet.

Is this child abuse?

Chantal Marshall, having persuaded four of her daughters to follow her example and have excessive breast enhancement, now wants youngest daughter Britney, 14, to also have boob surgery.

Seriously, Britney. Do you really want to look like that? Ugh! They are horrific. Cinderella never needed to be the same as her sisters, and neither do you.

Every minute on the internet …

I read this week that each sixty seconds online, people send 200million emails. They also post and share over 700million items on Facebook. In addition, they load nearly 4000 poor quality retro-style photos on Instantgram followed by tapping in 100,000 tweets on Twitter.

I don’t know about that lot, but according to my statistics on this site, most of the world is searching for pictures of Rose from Titanic on a blooming raft.

Arrrgghhh! It – was – a – joke! And for the record, it probably would have sunk.

A bit of madness with a sting in the tail.

Madness singer, Suggs, allegedly got drunk at a posh bash the other day and gatecrashed Sting while the former Police singer was on stage.

Sting ought to be grateful. Maybe seeing an artist with a bit of oomph might remind him what it’s like to perform energetic rock. It’s what Sting did best, not this solo artistic stuff, or as it’s also known – semi-pretentious crap.

Sting – Winner of the Smug Git of the Year Award – near thirty years running.

I don’t want to contribute to their air miles.

Apparently, Prince William and Kate splashed out £52k on a one-way flight recently. This is in addition to regular member of the mile-high club, Prince Andrew, who fleeced the country nearly £400k over a short period in his role as trade envoy. Trade envoy? That’s a new name for playing golf I haven’t heard before. Also, the Prince of Wales and Camilla, spent nigh-on half a million on their tour of the Middle East and Africa. All on private jets.

Have any of these leeches ever heard of using a bus? I’m told that the £32 million the UK taxpayer gives to fund these useless load of ferret droppings each year, amounts to 52p a head. It may not sound much to you, but I want to opt out.

The royal family. They live on a different planet. Maybe they should become Scientologists.



Let’s talk about cricket.

No … not that type of cricket. I meant the sport.

Yay! It’s the cricket season and with England currently number one team in the world, I shall take this opportunity to have a rare boast about it.

I know you lot overseas in America and beyond do not understand what cricket is all about. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Most people in the UK haven’t a clue, either.

Picture the conversation I had some years back when queried as to why a test match of cricket, lasted more than an hour or so.

‘But, why do they play for so long?’

‘It’s just the amount of time needed to come to a successful conclusion,’ I answered. ‘You know, best team over a five-day period.’

‘Five … days?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘But how can they play for so long each day?’

‘They go in for lunch and tea.’ I replied, then put hands across my ears to drown out the laughing. I was then asked to explain the rules. Easy.

Cricket, is a straightforward game played by two teams on a field. One team – out, the other one – in. The team that’s out, tries to get the team that’s in … out. When a player of the team who’s in, gets out, then another player comes in. This happens until all of the team who are in – are out. Then the team that was out, goes in and the team that was in, go out and tries to get the team in … out again. This goes on until both sets of players have been in and out twice, including those, not out. Simple really.

You have bowlers who can spin their balls all day long while others prefer to pound them with speed. Some will turn their googlies while slip fielders stand with open legs waiting for the batsmen to give the bowler’s balls a little tickle. There is also a variation on this unorthodox delivery which goes by the name of bowling a Chinaman.

Nooooo! That’s not what I meant. It’s just a phrase which came about due to the ethnicity of the bowler who first used the method. Sorry about that. Anyway, there are boundaries however in cricket, but one must not overstep them while touching the balls. Bowlers can rub and polish their balls, but are not allowed to scratch them to excess or they will face the wrath of an umpire.

The batsmen can use all sorts of stroke play to despatch their balls. This includes hooking them, cutting them past a fine leg or even sending them through the covers. These covers, are in fact, a fielding position and not the covers that are placed on the pitch overnight. You couldn’t have them on the field while play was underway because that would just be silly.

And talking of silly … Silly mid-off and silly mid-on, are in fact fielding positions and not a reference to the assorted headgear worn by the players.

And on the subject of gear, players are advised to wear protection in the form of helmets, pads and a box to protect the nether regions, just in case a delivery gets though and the batsmen get a little bit more than a slight tickle.

Ouch! I felt that.

And this week’s search terms …

Yes. It’s an ongoing theme – the weird things some people are searching for on Google, then ending up with me. Still the most popular is Jeremy Kyle Teeth followed by that bloody film that I wont even mention. You know, the one about some ship sinking. Well it stops … here! No more.

However, in looking at my stats, I found what has to be the number one now in terms of the oddest search used which resulted in somebody getting to me. It was this … روز فى فيلم تايتنك


Okay … Strange, and now I was curious. I mean, what could this possibly be in order to lead some folk to me? So … Cut and paste the phrase, do an image search. Let’s see what we’ve got.


Anchorman II?

Dear God! As if the first one wasn’t bad enough, they’ve only gone and made a sequel.

Anchorman was one of the few films this particular OCD guy was not able to see through to the bitter end. My obsessiveness usually means I have to grit my teeth and plod on, no matter how bad. However, even I gave up on the first film. Badly written bilge, with not one funny line.

The legend continues? Not in this household.

Fashion Disaster Alert!

Karaoke singer, Cheryl Cole tried to take centre stage at the Cannes Film festival this week by wearing a dress that matched the red carpet, perfectly.

Yes, very clever, but do you realise it looks as if you are wearing a huge red foot? Also, even though the paparazzi were ejaculating themselves to death at the outfit, you’d look bloody stupid wearing it on a cricket pitch or anything else that’s not red.

Talking of Karaoke singers …

Nob, Will.i.am, invited criticism this week for carrying the Olympic torch all the while, tweeting away to the social networking site.

As ever, full of his own importance, the star tapped away at how excited he was, but failed to notice he’d misspelled the name of the the town, Taunton, he was running through. Silly Billy has also confessed that despite being a superstar in the music business, he can’t actually sing.

Nooooo! Next you’ll be telling me Robert Mugabe is a murderer.

Still. I suppose he’s just a normal guy at the end of the day, caught up in all the passion of the event. An every day Joe. I mean – Will.i.am? Nothing at all pretentious about calling yourself that.

The truce is over.

Last week, I promised my local Walsall Council to leave them alone after they re-tweeted something for me. I said a week, or until they did something stupid. Well, it’s been about twelve days, so they did well in the end.

I read, yesterday, work on the playground lido pool at the local arboretum has been delayed, despite the work being announced last year. It now won’t be ready until the end of August. Does this mean it is going to be a building site all through summer?

I took that photo today and as you can see in this heatwave, it would be really good to have the water pool for the kids to use. As it happens, it is empty but never mind, come September as the summer is over, the council promise it will be rebuilt and working. Not only that, another couple of months later, you’ll be able to ice-skate on it.

Walsall Council … You have excelled yourselves this time.

It’s blooming hot out there.

I don’t know about you, but I’m going to pour myself a glass of juice and settle down to watch the cricket. See you in a week. Literally if I’m watching cricket.



I’m in hiding, and wondering what the hell I’m going to talk about this week.

Had kids here since yesterday evening because we went to the theatre. They have been with me all day too, including a trip to Lichfield in the afternoon (which will become apparent why – a little later). However, it is now Saturday evening and I’m frantically trying to write this roast before I go downstairs to spend quality time with the kids. I’m really running late; I’ve usually got the roast in the oven with it cooked a good few days before now but as I speak, very little comes to mind to tell you about.

Not much at all has happened to me this week and as I’ve milked the old Titanic thingy a bit much recently, I dare not use it again, even if you lot do keep Google searching the subject and ending up with me. But talking of searches …

In search of …

No, it’s not the 70’s TV series with Mr Spock. I’m talking about more search engine terms used by people to reach my blog.

Yeah, we have the usual: Jeremy Kyle teeth, Titanic plank and Britain’s got no talent, etc. However, I noticed a couple of unusual terms and ones that I cannot comprehend how people have got to me as a result.

Fat unwashed fetish was a strange term. Don’t think I’ve written about any grimy sex fetishes but living in Walsall, I suppose there’s always scope.

Evil fish? People actually searched for evil fish and got me.

Ha. I know the reason for that one, though. We’re talking Gothic Girl again and her poisonous fish and chips. That reminds me. I haven’t been to the chip shop to see if Gothic Girl has returned from her Beltane holiday.

Orange fluffy pussy. That was, I have to admit, the weirdest search phrase ever. I can’t for the life of me think how my blog was the end result of that search. However (and I say this was just out of curiosity), I did type orange fluffy pussy into a Google search and came up with one or two, erm … interesting images. But how did they end up with me? Mind you, I have to say, some of those women  were really hairy. Yew!

Below, I have what was the top picture in the search I made for orange fluffy pussy.

Okay, it was about number 783. Did you really think I was going to post porn?

Insect repellant needed.

Note: Will all the ants in my neighbourhood, stop getting into my house and trying to take a bath inside my kettle. A sauna may be nice for human beings but taking a dip at 100º will do you no good.

I wish I knew where the beggars were coming from. At them moment, they seem to want to make for my worktop and have a party.

Harmless bad-lad, or total thug.

Footballer, Joey Barton produced another scintillating display on the pitch last week by trying to take out most of the Manchester City team. Great footballer? Definitely not but low-life thug? His skills are unequalled on the field in that department.

Above is the moment Barton decides to kick Sergio Aguero from behind like the gutless scum he (Barton) is.

Barton – Half your family are in prison for murder and you yourself, have a string of convictions for assault and other matters.

How many more football clubs are going to employ this pond-life? He should never be allowed on a soccer pitch again. As for those who cheer him on each week? Shame on you, too.

Oh deer …

Sorry, couldn’t resist that bad pun and yes, you can just about make them out.

I wrote the other week about a couple who moved next to a hundred year-old church, then complained about the bells ringing. This week, I heard of another family who recently bought a house on the edge of the Wyre Forest in Bewdley and are now complaining the deer are eating their rose bushes.

Arrrgghhh! Don’t buy a house next to a fucking forest then!

Watch out, watch out, there’s a jobsworth about.

Over the last week, I have got involved in a little local council planning argument and surprisingly, it wasn’t my own, Walsall Council, either.

Lichfield is a lovely city, even though the term City is a bit loose just because they have some huge fantasy palace going by the name of a cathedral. Still, nice place and full of character. However, some council officials appear to be too full of themselves.

Recently, hairdressers, DJ & Ward moved into the town and erected what I consider to be a nice, tasteful sign. However, Lichfield Council Planning, appear to want to stop small businesses bringing trade into their area and they have told DJ & Ward to remove their signage. The council say, “It adversely affects the character and appearance of the Grade II Listed Building on which it is displayed.”

This was reported in the excellent Lichfield Live website, so I made a comment. You see although I don’t live there, one thing I cannot stand are bureaucratic tosspots.

I stated that nearby, you had the mighty Tesco superstore and over the road – Poundstretcher. Both hardly adhering to the character of the area. Also, in the same street as DJ & Ward, you have a Chinese takeaway – The Lotus House and a chip shop displaying garish signs with no apparent hostility towards them. DJ & Ward, however, have been lambasted and told to remove this …

Nothing wrong with that as far as I can see but Lichfield Councillor, Alan White defended the council stance. In his response, he quoted all the locations and signage I had highlighted, coming up with lame excuses as to why they were allowed, and DJ & Ward, were not.

Sorry, Mr White, but you and your fellow planners just come across as prats. If you would like to read my creative response to the stance of Lichfield Council, click the link at the bottom of the page … but don’t leave me until you’ve finished the rest and commented. So there.

Now that I’ve pissed off Lichfield Council, I’ll quit while the going’s good.

I’d best push on and finish this off. The kids are downstairs and saying there’s a film they want me to watch.



Link to take you to my response to a jobsworth councillor’s pathetic argument on Lichfield Live’s website. I’m actually quite proud of this one.



A case of bad teeth.

I spoke the other week about tag lines for this blog and I was looking at my stats the other day and it actually tells you what phrases people type before ending up on my page as a result.

Top of the charts is not, as you may assume from previous weeks, Titanic, Titanic plank, Rose on the plank or they both fit on the bloody plank. This is of course, in response to my ongoing quibble that the silly cow in the film Titanic, took all the space on that raft and left Leo to freeze his nuts off in the Atlantic.

Yep, that’s the one … again. However, as you can see, I am not alone in my gripe. Below is what others have thought of the subject and if two people could have fitted on that piece of wood.

I rest my case.

As I was saying, that lot I previously mentioned, weren’t the most common phrases. In the last month, over a hundred people have searched using Jeremy Kyle Teeth, or Jeremy Kyle bad teeth and even Jeremy Kyle worst teeth. Typing this, they found me as a result of a picture I posted a few weeks back of this horrendous, scary woman.

Remember her? Anyway, seeing as some of you may have arrived here looking for more of the same from The Jeremy Kyle Show, who am I to disappoint …

There … Happy now?

Hey! I’ve achieved notoriety.

I have in the past, poked fun and sometimes criticised a number of local councils and none more so than my own, Walsall Council. I know somebody who works within the council and I was amused to hear from them this week that this site has been blocked to stop staff accessing it.

Yay! I must have struck a nerve. Well done, Walsall Council. You keep making ridiculous decisions, wasting money and giving poor service to the town, and I’ll keep writing about it.

And talking of Walsall …

An example of the strange folk I encounter as I enjoy a breakfast down town in an arcade coffee shop balcony. Two men sit down on a box, then a friend of theirs carrying a red bag, comes to talk to them. However, he doesn’t simply talk, he stands ten feet away then shouts so loud, the entire arcade, shops and customers of the coffee shop above can hear him.

Why don’t you just go and stand next to them?

And this week’s chip shop episode.

Yes, it was back to the regular chip shop this week for yet another meeting with Gothic Girl, the self-styled corpse bride who tried to poison me a few weeks ago. However, when I walked into the shop, I was taken aback because (wait for it) Gothic Girl … wasn’t there. No, there was another young girl in her place who served me with no hitches whatsoever.

Thing is, I’m worried now. Where is Gothic Girl? I mean – seems silly if she’s spent six months there but left when she finally learned how to wrap a bag of chips and charge the correct money.

What if I never see Gothic Girl again?

Then I had a thought. It was Monday – May 1. The festival of Beltane.

That’s it. Gothic Girl and the rest of the Munsters – They’ve all gone on holiday to celebrate.

It’s all a bit too Munch.

So Munch’s The Scream, sold for $120million. Wow!

It is a lot of money I suppose for a sketch using a pastel set. The big question about The Scream has always been what inspired it. I know the answer. The character has been forced to listen to N Dubz.

Nob of the week.

I’m going to say nothing on the subject of tanning addict, Patricia Krentcil apart from one thing.

You look – fucking ridiculous.

Sinking to an all time low.

No … I’m not going on about the bloody Titanic again. Think again. What I am actually moaning about now is the scummy newspaper The Sun. Not being content with tearing new England manager, Roy Hodgson to shreds before he’s even overseen a game, the paper decided to dedicate their major headline to mocking the guy’s speech impediment.

Way to go, you assholes for reaching the gutter of all gutters in terms of journalism. What’s the matter – a little sore the FA picked Roy and not Harry Redknapp, the guy you’ve been telling us for months was 100% certain to be the next manager?

Mind you, speaking of headlines.

It’s not just The Sun who get it wrong. I saw this on Twitter and couldn’t resist a bit of bad taste myself. Mind you, I didn’t print the thing originally and whoever did, should certainly have checked what advert was going to run underneath the main story.

You couldn’t make it up.

On a more serious note.

I would just like to say a huge get well to Toby Craddock, the two-year-old son of Wolverhampton Wanderers star, Jody Craddock. Toby has been diagnosed with leukemia and this, after Craddock lost his first son ten years ago to a cot death.

It just makes me angry at the injustice and even more of an atheist that any fantasy God could be okay with this. There is a world filled with many deadbeat dads who don’t care about their kids on one hand, then you have people like Jody Craddock who have been dealt the most cruelest of blows. How much more heartache should one family have to take? We wish you well, Toby. Safe recovery.

What the hell is my computer doing?

My computer has been running slow all day and making whirring noises. I checked the task manager to see why and found out that 98% of the usage was down to the system idle process.

How can it be idle? I’ve never heard it make so much blooming noise.

Nice weather for ducks?

Or maybe swans?

Apparently, we in Britain are in the middle of a drought and have been warned not to waste water.

Drought? Tell that to those living near the River Severn in Worcester the other day.

Well, I made it in the end.

I managed to the finish the blog without mentioning the film, Titanic again. I feel good for that. In fact, I could describe myself as feeling like I’m the king of the world.




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 …


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.



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?



%d bloggers like this: