Tuesday, December 26, 2006

I'm Leaving You All In Charge...........

No posts for the next week or so, I'm off to Holland on holiday. The archives are there to be marvelled at or politely ignored and of course you're welcome to post up what you bally well like in the comments and let me figure out what you're all banging on about when I come back.


Tired & Emotional

Brother over for Christmas = Computer arsed about and nothing works like it should. I have other suspicions but I'm just going to blame him anyway, he won't mind. Christmas dinner sat like lead in my stomach, as it always does, so I went for a quick sleepy and woke up feeling even worse. I'm fine now though..........

Ok, must go and make peace with the old man. I think he's in a bit of a snit because I refused(rather rudely) to free up some funds to buy an external hard drive. It's the least I can do I suppose since he's getting a new monitor and I seem to take up most room on the PC with my photos.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Have Yourselves A Painless Christmas And A Solipsistic New Year

Hello! A fine festive season to all who pop in here and make this blog worthwhile. I love you all! Ok, so that's the brandy talking a bit but hell, if you can't tell your readership how you feel about them then what can you do?

To be honest, I can't really remember what happened this year as far as the outside world goes. Is that a good thing? I certainly think so. Pretend it didn't happen I say.

This years achievements include climbing Berwick Law, becoming a MySpace nonentity, starting a photo blog and finally getting on the mailing list of my local MP. Ok, the last one is nothing to be proud of but she did consult me on the subject of the ninety day detention period proposals so I do have some clout...............I think.

For those amused by this

That guy from Saved By The Bell Oh how the mighty have fallen.
"Show me your Titty"
"But I don't Even Know You"
"You Grew Up With Me Baby..............."

I've got to use that line someday.....

Can't Stop Yawning.....

Too tired to blog. I'll have something up tomorrow though..................


Saturday, December 23, 2006

The Nativity & The Nedivity

Yay! Finally packed it in for the next ten days or so. Whilst most of you no doubt got out the door at a fairly sensible time (12.30? 1pm?), I was tethered to my desk until three. Not that I'd done much all day anyway but it seemed especially pointless to keep us in until 3pm, give us a half hour lunch and ship in some Pizza (provide yer own fizzy pop, no alcohol....)

It seems we can't be trusted not to get totally fleein' on a few bottles of wine amongst the entire office. Bunch of twats.

Off to the pub after work. Well, pub isn't the word I'd use. It's one of those 'style bars' at the Charing Cross end of Sauchiehall St. Over priced fucking dives that they are.....

Theres something wrong with most of these pubs, I tell thee. All the flashy furniture and design can't hide the fact that they're just places for mouth breathing office scum, flashy neds and slow witted posers to go and get shit faced of an evening. I did suggest the cosy confines of The Bon Accord next door to the office for a few drinkies, but the young 'uns in the office wanted to go to Bar Buddha. The bastards............ I don't mind getting skinned for drink if I have some choice available to me, but I refuse to believe that a pint of Kronnenbourg, a pint of Joe Mangle's Fetid Piss* and a bottle of Budweiser can cost about nine quid. The staff were run off their arses (all three of them) and I've never felt the urge to tip at the bar as much as I did tonight.

So what's the alternative? The Ill Man's idea of festive cheer is going to an old man pub in which one can smell the piss from the toilets and where getting to the bar involves a set of crampons and the possible deployment of a search party..................

Sounds like heaven to me.................

* Joe Mangle's Fetid Piss=Fosters

Thursday, December 21, 2006

You Shall Go To The Ball Cinderella.................

Could I get a pair of size twelve boots today? Could I bollocks! What is it with shoe stores? Why do they have those rather lovely looking shoes in everything but my size? Are they mocking my enormous feet? As if to add insult to injury, they seem to be positively swimming in size elevens. Almost smug about the fact.

"Here sir, we have them in an eleven"

I try them on out of politeness mainly because they've been away for about five minutes no doubt rummaging about looking in vain for what I requested. Eventually I found what I wanted in Debenhams, lying forlornly in the reduced shoes rack which looked like it had been hit by a tornado. In a line up against the shoes I'd lusted over for the past two hours, they would barely have merited a mention, but they did come in a twelve and to be honest I was past caring, I just wanted a stylish yet robust boot for swanking about Amsterdam in the new year. So there.

Along the way I almost bought a pair of reduced Paul Smith zip up boots but of course they only had them in a.....................

You fill in the gap.

I also popped into House Of Fraser only to almost pass out at their prices. The cheapest pair was about £80. Schuh on the other hand made me very happy. They have some decent brothel creepers in again.

Anyway, more tales of woe from the Heart of Darkness that is Glasgow city centre at Christmas time tomorrow..................

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Christmas By The Nolly

Never mind that this shot was taken in March............

This time last year I was posting up winter scenes to divert my few readers from the all too obvious fact that I had run out of things to write about. This year is no different, except I'm using my own efforts instead of stuff culled from the internet. Oh, and I've got a few more readers to disappoint. The more things change the more they stay the same I suppose.

Can anyone tell me about really cheap travel insurance? I mean policies for a fiver, three quid even. I took one out with the Post Office for £20, yet the chap across from me at work reckons I'd be mad to pay any more than a tenner.................I'm assuming one gets what one pays for, in which case a three quid policy wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on and you'd be making yr way home by horse and cart in the event of missing the return flight........

One last thought. Can anyone possibly concieve of a situation in which one might freeze a plate of sandwiches? I've been meaning to ask my mother about it but I'm afraid of the answer she might give me.................


Sunday, December 17, 2006

I'm Sure I've Met This One Before.......

Have to admit, I'm counting down Christmas like a clock watching office drone on a Friday afternoon. No, not a huge fan of the festive season, but I'm off on holiday until the 4th of January and this week is gonna crawl in something chronic. The seasonal merry-go-round started on Friday night with our department night out. The meal was a joke(Driftwood, you're a bunch of fucking thieving cowboys!). Honestly, if I'd known I was going to be served up two slabs of re-constituted "turkey meat"(40% water), two chipolatas, a few roast potatoes and some non-descript veg for my twelve quid I'd have given it a by. Consoled myself by getting really quite drunk and promising myself it would be the last time I had a Christmas meal anywhere other than at home.

Saturday at the footie................Jesus! What is it with people? The club have a new system for entering the ground. Buy a ticket at a portacabin, go to the turnstile and enter the stand. Simple enough right? No more queues for late comers, season ticket holders walk straight in, as do those who buy tickets in the morning before they go to the pub.................It's a godsend. At least I thought it was but I must be a mental or something, because every week there's droves of torn faced old arseholes whingeing about how they don't see the point of it. Oh the agony of it all, they have to walk a few extra yards to get their ticket. Are they at a football match or are they doing a time and motion study? Cunts!

Went into town today and spent my Christmas bonus (£25 in M&S vouchers Woohoo!). I took a little detour through Kelvingrove park and was somewhat disturbed to see a huge plume of smoke drifting across the city. As I made my way towards Charing Cross it looked like it was the Mitchell Library on fire. Close, but not quite, it was in fact another Glasgow landmark, Cafe India. It looked completely destroyed, little bits of it still smouldering and about half a dozen fire engines in attendance. The place was also crawling with people with cameras. Pro's by the looks of the rather fancy kit they had on display. I had mine with me but decided not to bother, I'll get a shot of the gutted shell tomorrow on the way to work.............

Sad. I had my first curry in there you know......................

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Oh Bugger!

Well, i've tried twice to write something tonight and both have been rejected by my good self as being ill informed and pointless toss. Think yourselves lucky.
In other news, a mention for Buster Bloodvessel. Why? Cos Knudsen brought him up, but also cos I like him. He lives on a houseboat you know...........

I would also like to state that anyone having problems leaving comments on my blog should enter themselves as a non blogger for the time being. at least until Blogger Get Their Fucking Heads Out Of Their Arseholes. Cheers!

Ok, nighty night folks

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Tea With The Captain

It would appear that Captain Sensible has his own political party. Good Lord! Any more old punks out there ready to step into the political limelight? Jimmy Pursey? Glen Matlock? Bruce Foxton..........................(Sweet Jesus No!!!)

Frankly I reckon a John Lydon fronted political party would be most amusing, but I doubt the old fart would be willing to give up his cushy LA lifestyle to go on a Hunter S Thompson/Kinky Friedman style campaign trail. Can't say I'd blame him................

So, what's the old Cap'n saying? Not a lot to be honest. It would seem to be a rolling manifesto, shaped by the contributions of the general public. So, ill informed, contradictory and more than a little random. Brilliant, I love it already....................=D

............Anyway, tea..................I've always been a bit ambivelent about the stuff. Prefer coffee to be honest. Thing is, I found some Earl Grey the other morning and decided to give it a go. As a child I'd drunk it, I'm sure, and found it to be a peculiar drink which I wasn't quite sure if I liked or not. After many years of drinking the common-or-garden stuff I have now fallen for the delights of something genuinely refreshing and not laden with bloody tannin or caffeine. Anyone else got some good tea tips? Anything I should be trying? (not herbal, I'm bored of them)

Anyway, that's all just now. Cheers!

Monday, December 11, 2006

I Saw The Strangest Thing On The Way To Work This Morning................

There I was battling the horizontal rain and general misery of the Scottish winter and pretty much resigning myself to getting very wet when I saw something that I still have difficulty believing. On a patch of grass on Woodlands Road, just next to the Methodist Church, I saw out of the corner of my eye what I thought was a rather large looking pigeon. I stopped and stared for a bit and noticed it was absolutely motionless. On closer inspection It looked for all the world like some sort of bird of prey. The light was certainly poor, so I moved towards it to make 100% sure. As I got within about six feet of it, whatever it was launched into the air. What took me completely by surprise though was the pigeon that had obviously been trapped under this big beasties talons, scrambling skywards in a desperate attempt to escape. All that was left was a pile of pigeon feathers and me standing looking astonished, glancing towards passing pedestrians as if to say "Fuck!, Did you see that?"

Did I save a pigeons life?..............More likely I denied some hungry bird of prey a bit of breakfast, though I would imagine the pigeon wouldn't have got very far after the mauling it seemed to have taken. What astonished me was seeing such a thing in an urban area, though this particular spot looks to be a rather fertile hunting area, full of fat, lazy pigeons feasting on leftover bread left on the grass by well meaning locals.

Does anyone know their birds of prey? Can they hazard a guess at what it was and why it was hunting in the city? Is this normal?

It was bigger than a pigeon obviously, but not huge. It was a brown/black colour as far as I could make out.


Friday, December 08, 2006

You're So Sheer, You're So Chic, Teenage Rebel Of The Week...........

Shite! I've just seen the Aquafresh family on tv and for a brief moment I was nine years old and sitting in front of the tv between ad breaks in the Benny Hill Show. Where did they dig the fuckers up from? There they were, smiling inanely, swaying to some ludicrous barbershop jive in their terry towel bathrobes in some sort of synchronised tooth brushing frenzy. The bastards. Ah yes, dental health. I will openly admit I squandered a mouthfull of fairly strong teeth in my early adolescence by drinking vast amounts of Coca Cola and Pepsi, eating choccy bars for lunch and yes, not brushing my teef. Ever. I think it was when I became marginally self aware (about sixteen, a good two years later than most boys) that I finally learned that a bit of tooth scrubbing might be a good idea, if only to maintain a modicum of breath freshness in front of a lass I might have liked at the time. Same goes for bathing................ I now have at least one tooth with a pretty large cavity, another that seems to have started to crumble and a bit of the old receding gumline. I'd rather lose me hair to be honest. I should go and get it all seen to but the last experience left me a tad traumatised. I took all the wrenching and grinding and gum ripping in good humour, but i'm terrified dear reader. I feel like I'll need a local just to survive the prodding and poking of a checkup. What I do know is that I need to find a mouth quack in the new year or i'll be heading head first towards abcess city, and i'd rather go under the drill than do that again.
So, how are ye? Good? Hope so, no excuse for being glum on a friday night. Unless yr working tomorrow, in which case bad luck............Know how it feels, I spent eight years (man and boy) doing that shite in various pub kitchens. In my case I got into a love-hate thing with the job I was doing (KP, lowest of the low), especially the Bank Restaurant in Queen Street. It seems a million miles off now, but I seriously miss certain things about it now. The back sink full of pots, usually with soup burnt indelibly to the bottom of them. Nah, not that......Fat Barry, Mad Maisie, Rhonda the head chef's burd who could scratch eyes out for Scotland. Errr, well..........Ok, so the tips were good! Ah, no, they weren't. Kitchen staff usually got shafted on them. I remember the pitched battles, the foul mouthed abuse, the huffy strops...........Two hours later we'd all be sitting at the bar getting quite joyfully pished. I think that's the abiding memory of it all I suppose, the lack of bullshit amongst most of us. We all had our rammy's and whatnot, but the idea of a clique was an absolute anathema. Offices? The work is fine, but fuck me if they aren't populated by some of the most socially retarded toss bags you'll ever meet. Anyway Saturdays at The Bank were a riot, a ritual, a brutal reminder that the world didn't just stop at 5pm on a friday and for 8-10 hours you would be in the heart of this machine (well oiled and not-so-well oiled, depending on who was on) and at the end of it all, all you had the energy to do was get wasted..................Grim days? Grand days? They were just days.........

A Plug For A Worthy Cause

No post as such tonight. I've got a new blog and it's called 'Seven Days'. Basically the deal is this, I take a shot a day and post it up, the idea being that in twelve months time I should have a pictorial record of the past year. Or something. I also hear theres a new meme going about. Basically it involves divulging everything you've learned from the opposite sex. Me? Forget it. I don't make these distinctions when it comes to learning things from people. What i've learned from women could just as easily have been learned from men and vice-versa. Maybe this says a little too much about my lack of 'serious relationships'..................... Nah, women have taught me many things. Too many to mention in a mere blog post and most of it on a subconscious level. In all honesty................? Pass?

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Spreadable Is It?

My arse it is! Spreadable butter it said on the packaging. The pieces of bread with great big fucking holes in them and wedges of unspread butter stuck to the sides say otherwise. It's just plain bloody butter. I wonder what they mean by spreadable? You can spread it on concrete slabs? It doesn't even spread on toast.................Gah! Most 'spreadable' butter is actually just fancy marg, hence the ease with which one can smear ones scones and cucumber sandwiches for afternoon tea with ones mother/vicar/drug dealer.............Butter on the other hand needs to be left out for about an hour before it gets close to being ready to be applied to anything less consistent than cardboard. Bunch of pricks! Talking of which..........(see what I did there? Clever eh?) The company I work for, as you may already have read in this journal are a right nosey bunch of buggers. They monitor your emails, they stop you accessing t'internets outside of lunchtime and in a final mad attempt to stop us all looking at anything remotely interesting they now seem to have rigged up a system whereby porn and violence are filtered and sites containing such things become out of bounds. Fine, i'm not fucking thick enough to go looking at porno-tube at work and i'm not really too fussed at missing out on 'WorldsWorstFatalRoadAccidents.com' Thing is, at least two sites on my blogroll have come up with a 'No Access' screen, the reason given being 'pornographic content'. Who are these filth mongers in our midst? Who are these amateur scud fiends? Step forward Binty McShae and Fat Sparrow. I shit ye not! Now, i'm sure theres a perfectly logical explanation to all this, but i'm fucked if i'm going to try and figure it out. That would be boring Far easier to conclude that somewhere in the back pages of these two unassuming blogs lie banks of filthy pictures and screeds of dirty stories. Thank fuck I haven't clicked on Old Knudsen at work......................

Sunday, December 03, 2006

The Ill Man Learns The True Meaning Of Inner Peace

Evenin' all. Another trying day at the footie. Thistle were pretty poor it has to be said, but it's the people who surround me at the games that are starting to disappoint me more than a mere football team ever could. Home games at Firhill are a nightmare. Sullen, bad tempered fans sit in silence and wait to be entertained, wait for the goals to rain in. When they don't the barracking starts and purple faced men start bellowing like wounded oxen. The opposition support, small as it is are making a hellish racket and they only up the ante when they smell blood and a home team that don't look like they fancy their chances. I blame the layout of our ground to a degree, but I also blame the bitter old bastards that turn out every week and spend the game grumbling into their bovril and abusing players, the sort of thunder faced retards that stare in disgust at anyone trying to get a bit of noise going, anyone who dares applaud the centre forward they've been screaming at for the last twenty minutes. I also blame the team for not being very good sometimes, but it's the way of the world in lower division football. Teams have crap days and don't deliver the goods, get over it. Of course, the rage of the wounded footie fan is nothing compared to that of a motorist with a grievance. On the way home from work on friday I witnessed my first road rage incident. I didn't actually see what led up to the confrontation, but needless to say it was two blokes screaming blue murder at each other and generally make a right arse of themselves. What struck me was the fact that at a busy and badly laid out interchange one ought to expect people to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or to make moves that aren't exactly sanctioned by the highway code. Simply put, theres nothing to get worked up about................ I turned back and found a vantage point from which to observe the proceedings. I have to say, I did get a bit of a kick out of it all and even left a little disappointed that they didn't start kicking the crap out of each other. I really ought to be ashamed of that I suppose............... Anyway, a woman got out of one of the cars and sort of defused things, either that the bloke she was with had raged himself to a standstill and she was just on hand to guide him back to the car. Poor sod, all that willy waving and it got him where exactly? Chaperoned back to his car by his bemused passenger in front of equally bemused onlookers. I hope she spent the rest of the journey home thinking of ways to ditch the hopeless wazzock. Me? I reserve my rage for real evil like blogger outages, Simon Cowell and the Daily Mail. As such find that I lead a most serene and peaceful existance...............

Friday, December 01, 2006

Fucking Rats Cocks!!!

I was going to bring you the fourth and final part of The Dentist, but just as I was adding the finishing touches, just as I was about to publish it, I seem to have hit some magic button on my keyboard that makes my PC shut down. ..............and no, I hadn't saved it. Quite frankly i'm distraught. It may be some time before I go back to it, though I have it all pretty much memorised. I so dearly want to go on a rampage, smash the shit out of something and scream like a banshee, but I don't think it would go down well with my folks or the neighbours...................If i'm arrested tomorrow for throttling any of the prattling nerds that sit next to me at work I hope you'll understand.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Come With Me On A Voyage Into The Unknown.......

Anyway, Christmas is approaching, much like a drunk line manager at an office party. You pretend it's not there for as long as possible until you just can't avoid it . To be honest, Christmas in the Ill Man household isn't too bad. Only a few presents to buy, a pleasant afternoon meal. All fairly calm and unfussy, though I suppose they've always been like that. Does anyone have horror stories? Does anyone do the whole 'wake up/presents/booze/Queens speech/Christmas lunch/booze/tedious elderly relatives/booze/asleep in front of the Bond film' thing? Or are you planning on doing some shopping? I have also come into contact with the menu for the Christmas night out at work. It does not fill me with great hope. It's a combination of Mexican and traditional Christmas grub. I shan't turn my nose up at it though. I do have some manners.

Monday, November 27, 2006

A New Blog, A New World Order....................

.................well, not quite, but i've found a new use for the Ill Man beta site I started. I'm going to turn it into a photographic diary by posting up a picture taken each day. Hooray! I've also found a site that manages to be both hilarious and very scary indeed. In fact, not since the The Euston Manifesto have I been so tickled and yet terrified at the same time. Take a look. So basically they're saying that the old Polish goalie is going to come back from the dead and be installed as the next Pope, but it won't really be him. It'll be, yes you guessed it ladies and gents...................The Cloven Hoofed One in disguise. Brilliant! Can't wait................... If this is old news to everyone then bear with me, the novelty hasn't quite worn off on me yet................

Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name...........

Well, that's me on the housing list. A few other avenues to go down, but it's a slight weight off me. I'm the biggest procrastinator in the world sometimes and it's the simplest thing in the world to do, but not for me it would seem. It's taken about four years for me to get my arse in gear on this one.

Anyone hear about the BA employee who misinterpreted company dress code so spectacularly that it took an intervention from The Daily Mail to turn her into a christian martyr figure and get her way..............?

Correct me if i'm wrong here folks, but BA seemingly have a ban on jewelery of all kinds being on show whilst wearing full uniform. It's nothing to do with religion. BA you see, in their infinite wisdom decided that jewelery looked a bit naff hanging outside their uniforms. Especially if you have someone who doesn't know where to stop with the cheap bling. What they hadn't banked on, and maybe this is to their great discredit, is that Mrs Doris Spam of Acton had Jesus/God into her soul and she believed that it was her duty to let all and sundry know about it through the insignia of the cross. I actually have no problem with all this. Maybe she has a point, maybe a small, tastefully displayed cross should be allowed as part of BA uniform if that is indeed the religious belief of the person concerned. I am not BA though and you know how big companies are when it comes to such trifling and unexpectedly contentious subjects..................They get more than just a little bit 'backed up'

My beef is mainly with the Daily Mail and their desire to stir up a 'Culture War' as The Flying Rodent puts it. "Ban The Veil" they screamed during the summer. It's 'Save The Cross' now. It matters not what point-counterpoint goes on between the pages of said publication, this is about letting all these filthy immigrants with their heathen beliefs know that whatever attempts they make to impose their ways (by wearing veils mainly) they won't succeed. BA have caved, inevitably after pressure from high ranking politicians and clergy. Who needs the hassle I suppose.........? I'd have bankrupted BA to fight this to be honest, but then i'm an atheist cunt and as such should be ignored on this matter.......................... The Mail will of course claim that they are merely campaigning for the equal recognition for Christianity when it comes to displaying emblems of faith. They would say that though, wouldn't they............................. Nothing to do with showing them uppity 'Mozzlimz' what's what by any chance?

Friday, November 24, 2006

Unashamedly Late

More photos from Tuesdays stagger up to Ruchill flagpole. I love these, I'm utterly unashamed to admit. Sod it, I don't blow me own trumpet nearly often enough. Since Tuesday all it's done is blow a fucking gale though. And piss down something rotten. Tomorrows meant to be better so I'm told. We'll see........... The old dear that lives above me has trouble turning on her gas fire so I've been commandeered to turn it on for her. She's a bit arthritic so she can't turn the thing on, which is a bit of a bitch since the only people I know who have such fires are OAP's. Why is that? Are they designed to be owned but never turned on? Her flat is like a ruddy wind tunnel and quite frankly a wee gas fire and a hot water bottle can only keep you so warm. It's a few years since her hubby passed on and her family who used to live up there are al laway. She's got virtually no memory from one week to the next which is in equal parts amusing and distressing. Every time I come to her door I feel like I'm introducing myself for the first time. Anyway, we have a signal system going now. I hear her trying to turn the thing on late afternoon, I give her a phone to see if she's got it on, I go up, turn it on and she slips me a £2 coin. I know the worst thing to do in that situation is refuse the cash but all I'm doing is turning her fire on................. I know, pensions burning a hole in their pockets.................

So I got nowt done today. I had intended on getting a few things done, as well as visiting the Peoples Palace on Glasgow Green. One look out the window told me that even going to the supermarket might be a tall order. The day was idled away playing an ancient driving simulator I found lurking in the bowels of my PC. Oddly enough it was more fun than floating aimlessly about the internet all day. Fancy that............. Anyway, please go here, here and here to be otherwise entertained.

Bonsoir mes enfants!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Autumn In Maryhill

So, what have I been up to in the past few days? Not a lot to be honest..........I have some new songs up on Myspace for those that are curious about what my singing voice is like (Thom Yorke with a head cold apparently.....) They're my 4-track home recordings so don't expect too much. The other ones were done in a proper studio................... I took a stomp up to Ruchill Park today. I must have spent about an hour or so up at the flagpole. It's arguably the best view in Glasgow, unless you've been up the Science Centre Tower, in which case the lift engineers will be with you soon. Please remain calm and continue drawing straws to determine who gets eaten next........ After two or three days of dismal rain and wind, the weather gods decided to smile on the Ill Man and provided as good a day as can be expected for the time of year. What a joy it was to get to the summit of Ruchill and watch a dirty great big rain cloud envelope the south of the city before moving east. I can't explain the feeling of elation I got when I realised the cloud was going to miss my location. (Nothing to do with wishing crappy weather on the citizens of southern Glasgow you understand, had I been standing at the flagpole in Queens Park i'd have been wishing any storm clouds floating about to deposit their contents somewhere in the north.) I almost felt like I was in control of the elements, or at the very least it felt as if someone was ensuring I had as pleasant a day as possible. Then the sun came out and bathed the spires and cranes and tenements and tower blocks of the city in the kind of light you expect to herald the second coming. Much snapping was done, as well as loads of open jawed gawping at the view. The last time I was up at the flagpole was during the last snowfall in the city. A very different experience, though no less awe inspiring. After watching the sun play hide and seek behind some distant cloud, I decided to come back down before the increasingly malevolent wind chill froze my fingers off. Of course, I came down a good five minutes too early as I missed that bit where the sun starts making the cloud glow red as it dips out of sight. At this time of year it's there for about five minutes tops before the murk on the horizon blots it all out. I did get to meet some swans though. A mother and it's offspring I think. The light was going so I couldn't get great shots of them, though I did witness them being chased along the canal by another swan. Quite spectacular actually, loads of splashing and noise though I failed to capture it convincingly on camera. I'll post it up later but it's a tad out of focus. Anyway, the two newcomers followed me along the canal bank for a bit and posed for a few shots before deciding I was walking too fast and opted to take things at their own pace.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Feet Up, Brain On Ice

My tracker tells me that someone has been hunting down "The Dentist Pt3". Who is it? C'mon then, own up.............I thought I had let that one slip away in the mists of time. Anyway, it may or may not interest you to know that I shall be reworking some of my earlier fiction bits and adding an ending to The Dentist. I'll put them up on my other blog. Well, it's not doing much else at the moment. What a pig of a day. I'm off next week and i'm hoping and praying for a few nice days so I can get out and take some photos etc. All it's done for the past week is chuck it down though. I actually regretted not taking my camera with me today when I went shopping. A number of times I was standing thinking "That would make a brilliant shot". The Kibble Palace in the botanic gardens looked pretty amazing all lit up, the rain pounding off the road under car headlights, the lines of traffic on high beam on Great Western Road......Ok, they might have come out all wrong, but I always live in hope. The folks are away to Barcelona right now. The flood of phone calls I feared asking after my mother haven't materialised. Apart from Auntie Dot getting me out of bed at an ungodly hour(half twelve) to speak to my mum. I ended up making the most nervous small talk with a woman I rarely ever see. It's been so long she still thinks I work as a chef. I told her I worked in a solicitors office at which point she asked me what the prospects were. Hilarious. The prospects are quite good I suppose, if I wanted a long term career at a blackhearted cowboy law firm........... Anyway, I shall leave you to read the meanderings of this idiot. Apparently we cannot be trusted to use the technology at our dispoal in a responsible manner and need leading by the nose, obviously by our all knowing elders and betters to the promised land of never saying nasty things about the Labour Party ever again.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down

The Ill Mother has hit the Guinness. I came in tonight and there she was with her wee bottle and a glass, watching Paul O'Grady. Nice. Never tasted Guinness until tonight actually and quite frankly it's awful. I drink a fair amount of things that make most people recoil in horror but Guinness has a similar effect on me. It tastes ghastly. I'll bear that in mind next time someone with a pint of black and white shite mocks me for drinking wheat beer. Still, she used to drink gin. If you can drink gin you can drink anything...... Back at work...........I now won't be able to look at blogs at lunchtime. they're cracking down on emailing so it's no surprise they're making up reasons to interfere with your lunchtime surfing. You get access to the blog itself, but the comments box comes up with some sort of blocking message telling you that you're trying to access porn. Que? I tried to look at Over Here but the connection wiped out and sent me back to the desktop. Looks like they're onto you Sandra....... It's all a pile of wank to be honest, they just want to break you and make you more compliant to any shoite they decide to fling at you........people just end up in situations where they seek out their little skives, make sure they do just enough work and no more or recede into surreal banter and general arseing about. "Little Victories" as Norman Stanley Fletcher put it.

Thursday, November 16, 2006


Kelvin Hall

Star Dairy Get's 'Eskimo'd'

Charing Cross From Garnethill.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

The Ill Man Temperance Society Is Now Recruiting

I have what you might call a wee affection for the drink. I nudge the turps a little too hard, and though I don't see myself as a full blown alky and i'm generally able to function day to day, I know that the best part of four pints a night is a bit much. It certainly affects my performance at work.

I had no alcohol on sunday and as a result I bounced merrily through monday like a scruffy Butlins Red Coat, indiscriminately smiling at innocent bystanders, cheerfully bashing through my work and not getting enraged at the niggling computer problems that plague my day. Last night I necked six bottles of beer and woke up feeling sluggish and queasy. I sleepwalked my way through the day and came home exhausted

All pretty much self explanatory so far. Drink yer tits off at night and you will generally feel shite the next day. Don't do it. It's not that simple though, the lure of the offy on the way home can be too much sometimes, especially if you've had a thoroughly rotten day. It's only matched by the lure of the scud mag shop. Sometimes I visit both and have done with it.

Money to burn boy, that's your problem..............

It seems to have become a ritual. Eat dinner then crack them open. I usually drink the lot(to be fair I don't buy vast quantities....) but it's become a drag now. I shall experiment with only drinking at weekends, maybe the odd school night if the occasion calls for it......Wish me luck.

Anyway, i'm drinking tea just now. I'd say it's a perfect cup. Just the correct balance of milk and tea, you know that way when it goes down smooth as a nut with a nice tannin-ey aftertaste playing across the tip of yer tongue guv'ner......

Luvly. I'll maybe have another, and another and................you see where this is going. I'm not an addict but I will do something until it hurts generally..........


Monday, November 13, 2006

We Like The Moon!

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

These chaps like the moon as well. Cheers to The Empress and The Magician

What Tarot Card are You? Take the Test to Find Out.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

The Ill Man Observes

..............anyway, I hear Elton John has said 'Fuck You' to organised religion. I fully expect organised religion to turn round and say 'Fuck You Back x100 No Comebacks!!!' or something equally witty. I say well done Dame Elton, about time someone told these parasites to go and rot. I think banning religious organisations is a bit much, if only for practical reasons, but my dearest wish is that eventually the human race will evolve and realise they don't need these vampiric middle men to communicate with the god of their choice. I see an official at a football match in Newport had a blood vessel ruptured by a well aimed pound coin this weekend. Very well aimed. In fact, too well aimed and as such I think the culprit must have had a catapult. Maybe I should stand outside Ibrox of a saturday and sell them, I'd make an absolute mint. What I don't get is why anyone would want to lob hard earned money at footballers and officials. I don't regard myself as tight, but I can think of a dozen more satisfying uses for a pound coin than as a means of maiming a man who's primary function in life is to get verbally abused by the shit thick thugs that make up the majority of the football manager fraternity. Right, that will be all. Back to your PornoTube you lovely ladies and gents.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

That Damien Rice Is A Cunt

Well, he is................ Re-aquainting myself with the fusty circle jerk that is Later...... With Jools Holland. God that guy's a a bawsack, isn't he? The guy is a total colon tickler. He'll endorse any old shoite. "Hey Jarvis" he'll say, "Your new album is awesome". The rest of the planet looks on and wonders why the lanky streak of piss isn't doing us all a favour and finding something else to do with his time.......Truly, Jules Holland is to popular music what Des O'Connor is to the chat show. An easy audience. Like many Jules Holland cavalcades it's 90% pish and 10% genius jaw dropping brilliance. I liked The View. They reminded me of The Buzzcocks. I also couldn't hear a damn thing they were singing, which made me very happy. Don't you think it's a bit shit when you know what a band are banging on about all the time? Especially if what they have to say is of little importance. I loved the way Kurt Cobain slurred like a drunk, I loved the way Michael Stipe sounded like he was talking in his sleep on early REM records, I loved the way Pete Doherty sounded like he was out where the busses don't run. Which he was..........It's just a thing you don't get very often. I hope The View's album sounds like what I heard on myspace. It would make this old man very happy. That and Smokey Robinson. Again Mr Holland had his ice pick and crampons out in an attempt to clamber up "the Smokester's" ass. He needn't have bothered as Smokey greeted him like a long lost pal, imparted many words of wisdom and genuinely laffed his ass off at the old footage they dug out to show him. Smokey reminds me of Brian Wilson without the drug and EST damage. Still a wide eyed kid at heart.....................

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Bad Beer

Argh! Can I not go five minutes without feeling a bit grubby or under the weather? The other night I bought some beer. A few bottles of some rather nice wheat beer from Falkirk (I shit you not!). Anyway, I cracked one open to find that it was utterly flat. Dead as Donny Rumsfelds political career (first cheap shot of the night, eyethankyew.........) I tried it and unsurprisingly found it to be quite unpleasant. I opened the next and it seemed to be equally sour. The third was something of an improvement but it was still nowhere near as good as the bottle I had at the weekend. Anyway, in all I think I must have consumed about half a pint of beer that most certainly had gone off due to not being bottled properly. I've not been the same since...... The moral of the story? Stick to known brands, don't buy anything that claims to be bottle conditioned and be very wary of men from Larbert and their home brewing kits. Anyway, i'm a wee bit tired, but i'll not go to bed. No, that would be easy. That would be sensible. That my friends would be giving in. No, I shall sit here and have a few more beers, listen to some Mahler and the Elastica album again and I shall drift pointlessly through the pages of Blogland for the next hour or so like a bad smell. Or maybe the first waft of spring air. One of the two anyway. Needless to say you should visit Clairwil and tell her of any acts of random foolishness and mischief you have been indulging in recently. For my part I have started pressing every traffic light button I encounter whether i'm crossing the road or not. "Oooooh!" I hear you say mockingly, "Think big Ill Man, that'll bring them to their knees!!!!" A piffling act of tomfoolery for sure but it's a start. I have the soul of a presbyterian minister at times you see and that part of me disapproves greatly of 'fucking around'. It's a cross i've had to bear for too long a time. Anyway, i'm sure any car drivers reading this will testify to how annoying it is to have to wait for non existant pedestrians to cross the road when you're five minutes late for joining that queue of traffic trying to get into the city centre. What can I say? Next time you encounter a 'phantom red' think of me, a perverse skip added to my stride as I gambol and frolick my way to another eight hours of slack jawed mouse clicking monotony in stalag North St. My needs are simple, as is my mind. One more thing. Visit this man and ask, nay DEMAND that he make more posts. Genius. Ok, that's yer lot. Now piss off!

Monday, November 06, 2006

Fireworks On Glasgow Green

The last time I was at Glasgow Green to see the November 5th display I must have been about seven or eight. The fireworks were fine as far as I can remember but my feet damn well near froze solid in a pair of unforgiving school shoes and what I imagine were a rather thin pair of socks. Usually my dad would buy a box of cheap fireworks and we'd fire them off in the back green. The rockets would usually clear the tenement and explode out of sight, the Catherine Wheels would be a pain in the arse to set off, at least a third of the box would be duds and my brother and I would make the most of our sparklers, the only real joy to be had in the whole anti-climactic affair. Believe me, an organised display kicks the bollocks off backyard efforts. They're also cheaper. Except one year when friends of my folks brought round their own fireworks. Mums got busy making a buffet, dads arsed about with the fireworks. Felt almost like a proper display in a way, except instead of serious ballistic experts in charge, we had three middle aged blokes pretty much contravening every article of the firework code and generally showing off.

Anyway, the novelty wore off by the time I was about ten, for my folks mainly, but my brother and I weren't really fussed. We left the fireworks to the professionals and the mongs who liked to chuck cheap bangers at each other in the street. Anyway, after my tirade the other day I perversely decided to go to the display on Glasgow Green. It was pretty good to be honest, though I feel they didn't fire off enough in the way of the 'Krakatoa East Of Java' type fireworks. Too many of them were pretty and brightly coloured but lacked that 'Shock & Awe' feel that you really want when you go to a display. The other beef I had was that Radio Clyde (renamed Celtic FM at the weekend) was blaring away through the build up. Fine, I can just about handle that, what really annoyed was the fact that I had Primal Scream and Franz Ferdinand blaring out of 25 ft high speaker stacks through the fireworks. Kind of takes the edge off the experience if you ask me.......