Hey Trane!

These are for Trane at Trout Factory Notebook. Hope you like them! Nothing to say tonight really. I've spent a whole day at work raging at a computer that barely works, only to come home and rage at a computer that barely works. Evil thoughts all round. Anyway, tomorrow night I shall be at the pub with Clairwil and some other people. Do join us if you can. Winner of the 'Last Lines' qiuz will be announced on saturday night, so if you have any ideas about the remaining clues, get cracking.................

Everything That Matters And A Few Things That Don't.......

I see that bastion of tact and diplomacy David Duff has been upsetting people again. Ok, I suppose that's a bit like saying snow is cold, Blair is an egomaniac and Partick Thistle are bloody awful this weather. Thing is, he seems to have managed to get a rise out of the lovely but very boring Leah Darbyshire and her hubby. And Yishi the dog. It transpires that Leah has something of a backlog of bones to pick. Some of it does admittedly sound quite unpleasant, but there amongst it all is Mr Duff who earns a cuff on the ear for calling her dog 'Yucki' and for saying she's fat or something. C'mon, you got off lightly there Mrs Darbyshire. You want to hear what he's been calling the rest of us for the past year or so........ Anyway David, if she's 'fat' then I'm a certified chubby chaser and proud of it. In other news, please do take a wander over to The Gyp where Clairwil has been posting up her Krakow trip report. She's also put all us amateurs to shame by concocting a quite demonic lyrics/quotes quiz. That said, just because I found it near impossible doesn't mean you will.................I can be supernaturally dim at times. Good news of sorts about work. It would seem I won't be in the department from hell for too much longer. One of the other secondment victims was informed he'd be there for another two weeks at the very least. He reminded me a little of Yossarian from Catch 22, but not quite so cheerful. Then he started mumbling about laying down bear traps.................... It's pathetic, but i'm actually looking forward to getting back to my old brain numbing routine. The funniest thing about all this was the way my team leader tried to sell this temporary move to me. Instead of saying "look, we need a few bodies in another department, i've put you forward, can you do this? ", he's laying it on thick, busy giving me the 'change is as good as a rest' bollox and what a great opportunity it is for me. All that 'feather in your cap' shite can fuck off. I'm an admin monkey, I do what I do to pay digs, buy beer, cd's and spank mags. That's it. My desire to move within the company is non existant and I really hope he realises that. I don't think he does.

Pining

One of the less savoury aspects of my daily commute to work has been the introduction of a short subway journey into town. Normally I walk to work and this suits me fine, it gives me a chance to clear my head, get some fresh(ish) air and enter work in a decent frame of mind. The same cannot be said of cramming onto a packed tube train full of ill mannered mouthbreathers and people who SHOUT FOR A LIVING!!! There are times when I wish some bastard would climb aboard with a semtex rucksack and just end it all............Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I'm now working in the city centre at a different office. It's hideous. The work makes no sense, things are only half explained to me and when I ask for help I come back only marginally wiser than I was before. I end up just scanning stuff and hope that nobody notices that's all i'm doing. It's also one of those places where people shout down phones. One woman in particular is most distracting. I'm sure she's a lovely person, it's just that she sounds like she's having a barney with whomever it is on the other end. She isn't but she feels she needs to raise her voice and keep it raised. On my last day, i'm half tempted to leave a post-it on her desk with 'Soto Voce' written on it. One of the better things about taking public transport to work is that I get a copy of the metro to myself. I like the metro. It's daft and not terribly informative but it has a fine features section and an insane letters page. It was one of these 'frivolous' stories that stopped me in my tracks today. It concerned a rare black swan on a lake in Germany. It seems to have fallen in love with a swan shaped paddle boat. It circles the craft, gazes at it endlessly and honks away mournfully in hope of reciprocation. A bit like me trying to pull. But with less honking. Anyway, the story (for all it's brevity) stopped me in my tracks and made me wonder at the unintentionally cruel nature of this incident. This poor animal stumbles upon what it thinks is the object of it's desire but has no way of realising, beyond bitter experience that it is in fact an inanimate object incapable of responding to it's forlorn mating calls. Apparently biologists hope that the swan will have overcome it's crush by the time winter arrives, principally because that's when the boat gets locked away. Not a chance, far too soon. Everyone knows crushes take at least a year to subside. Swans seem like quite intense animals, so i'd say all parties are in for a hard time. I'm sure theres a concept album in this for someone. 'The Swan & The Pedallo' Any Takers?

Young Blogger Of The Year Poll Results

Ok, no ceremony or hoo ha. My blog was one year old on sunday and I ought to have put this up then but I was busy being hungover again. Never one to do these things by half, I spent the day doing absolutely nothing. The results were........ 1st 'Over Here' with 28 votes 2nd Average Tosser with 19 votes 3rd Tampon Teabag with 17 votes 4th Oye Billy with 10 votes 5th Oblong Scone with 6 votes 6th Bawbags with 3 votes There is no prize as such other than the prestige (quit laughing!) that goes hand in hand with such an award. Well done Sandra, and thanks to the rest of you for participating/having the good sense to ignore such a blatant piece of attention seeking on my part. Needless to say I'm already on the lookout for next years candidates.................

Last Lines

I Nicked this idea off Alan, who nicked it off someone else................I also seem to remember Billy doing one some months back. The idea here though is to guess the song and artist from the last line rather than the first. Everyone knows the first line to a song. Do they know the last though? Some are easy, some are not. At least one is so perversely hard that I might award a prize of sorts to the person that get's it. Don't worry, I won't try to send you anything in the mail......

The rules? No Lyric Googling!!!

1-'I'm Not Commodity' - REM: King Of Comedy - Lism

2-'....And You Don't Know How Much I Love You'

3-'She Will Be Your Living End' - David Bowie: Lady Grinning Soul - Binty McShae

4-'In The Slipstream We Will Stay, Stay Away' - Pavement: Starlings In The Slipstream - Flying Rodent

5-'It's Hard For Me But I'm Trying'

6-'Now That You're Here Tell Me You're A Non Believer'

7-'These Things I'll Be Until I Die' - Beach Boys: 'Till I Die - Binty McShae

8-'Let's Go Play By The Beach' - The Pixies: Vamos - Binty McShae

9-'You See Of Late She's Been Quite Speechless, Very Speechless, She's Got Everything'

10-'It's Dr Martens A-P-O-C-A-L-Y-P-S-E - APOCALYPSE!

11-'Just Wishing That I Had Something You Wore' - The Pixies: Cactus - Billy

12-'Until The Razor Cuts' - Buzzcocks: Love You More - Binty McShae

13-'Sloppy Lips To Lips, You're My Vitamins Cause I Love You' - Nirvana: Drain You - Flying Rodent

14-'Hello EMI, Goodbye..... A&M' - Sex Pistols: EMI - Clairwil

15'Dance, Dance, Dance To The Radio' - Joy Division: Transmission - Billy

16'We're Standing On The Edge' - Radiohead: Lucky - Binty McShae

17'Because The Sky Was A Womans Arms'

18'See I've Already Waited Too Long And All My Hope Is Gone' - The Smiths: How Soon Is Now - Flying Rodent *

Get cracking!

I also realise that I maybe don't have the readership to do this properly, but what the hell, bring yr friends....................

* Technically not the last line, but I was going from memory on that one. FR gets it as he got the song correct.

Heroes Of Comedy & Light Entertainment No1 - Gary Wilmot

Gary's Tv Career here Gary's stage career here. Gary's music here Gary's legal practice here

Gather Round Everyone!

First up, the poll results for 'Young Blogger Of The Year' will be announced on sunday 24th of September.

You thought i'd forgotten, hadn't you?

'Over Here' is out in front. Tampon Teabag lies in second place, 'Average Tosser' is currently third and Oye Billy is fourth. Oblong Scone and Bawbags fight it out for the wooden spoon.

Ok, next friday (29th) I'll be at the pub. Babbity Bowsters in Blackfriars Street, just off the High Street to be exact. So will my best mate Clairwil and with some luck a few other leading lights of Glasgow blogland. We are also expecting a couple of interesting guests who's identities at this moment in time are shrouded in some mystery. If you happen to be in the area and have the evening to spare, we'd be very pleased to see you. We might even buy you a drink..................... p.s. Rob, 'The Dentist' is on the back burner at the moment. It will be back soon though. Glad you like it.

Ill Man Makes A Tape (Edited Hilights)

I write this with Willie Nelson humming sweet nothings in my ear. Something about 'Can I Sleep In Your Arms Tonight'. If only Willie.................... There are times, believe me, but it's outweighed by the desire to be left the hell alone mostly............. Pet Sounds. The song 'Hang On To Your Ego' to be specific. They had to change the title of the song for the album. It ended up something wet and pissy like 'I Love You Very Much' or 'My Sisters Diptheria Is Clearing Up A Little Now'. ............Or was that the last Anal Cunt album? I can't tell the difference anymore. Iron and Wine. Bastards! Sneak up on me like that with a bunch of songs I can't help playing over and over and never get tired of.................Like all great albums, I didn't give it time of day when I bought it. Makes me think I should go and find that Modest Mouse album and give it another go.................Then I remember that they suck. Sunny Afternoon by The Kinks is one of those songs I love because I can sing along to the high harmonies. Like a great big girly. Yeah!! Also, the words make me laugh. That's important. If the words can make me laugh, cry or commit mass murder, then they're obviously on the right track. The Boo Radleys. I liked the Boo Radleys, even though history tells me that virtually nobody else did. 'I Hang Suspended' is about three minutes long, seems to be utterly meaningless and is essentially what The Beatles would have sounded like had they been given access to a bank of FX pedals. One other bit of news. The Blind Winger is back in the aether. Let him into your homes and ask no questions.

Hangover

Never a terribly pleasant experience. The one I suffered on sunday morning ranked up there with the best of them. The headache was a beast. It combined the searing sharpness of having an ice pick lodged in my forehead with a low sub-bass throbbing that would occassionally change up several gears, threatening to lift the top of my head off. Overall it felt like Keith Moon had been using my cranium as a practice room. The wee dead bastard!!! Once the Ibuprofen(or 'Ibufrens' as i've heard them called) had kicked in though, all was peaceful. I pretty much spent the rest of the day in bed. I was sweating like a Kraft cheese slice left out on a formica worktop and i'm sure my room smelled like a brewery, but fuck it!!, once the agony of the headache had lifted, I felt strangely serene. This is where yr dvd collection comes in handy. I'll say no more...................... Honestly though, if that's as bad as hangovers get these days(I blame the Labour government), then I think I might just treat myself to a few more now and then. This of course was a weekend hangover. Sleepy, cosy, forgiving, fuzzy and warm............. Getting mortal on a schoolnight and going to work the next day is like a day trip to hell in comparison. Don't do it kids! p.s. No pictures tonight. BASTARDFUCKINGBLOGGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've Been Tired.

........... Really tired. I could barely move last night. I'd had a bit of a night on wednesday I suppose. Ostensibly I had gone to the local boor pit to meet some work chums and watch a game of football, but it became something of an exercise in anthropology.............With cheap beer. As a devout follower of the Maryhill Magyars, the clash between Manchester Utd and Celtic was really of little significance to me but I decided to go along anyway. The economy booze being one of the deciding factors...... Anyway, I watched the game. Quite enjoyed it actually, loads of goals and plenty of saddo Celtic fans trying to put a brave face on the fact that the gods simply weren't on their side that night. My old pal Mullaney told it like it was by stomping out in a huff. The rest acted like Scotland fans at the world cup and celebrated in glorious defeat. Fuck that! I did enjoy a bit of banter with Brian, a Kilmarnock fan. This was more my territory. Discussing the things that really matter like why his landlord has three thumbs, why it would be great to bionically enhance great footballers we once had playing for us and of course exchanging song-books. He seemed to be most amused by 'Mary From Maryhill'. Who wouldn't be?

Jings!!!

Desire: Lines Of Traffic

For a part of the city scarred by the ugliest and stupidest section of motorway in the world, Charing Cross scrubs up surprisingly well at night. I'm a sucker for neon lights I suppose. In cold daylight though it's a far less pleasing sight. At rush hour it becomes nothing more than a concrete tomb for frustrated motorists trying to get back to their suburbs and satelite towns. The bottom shot is Great Western Road.

Botanic Gardens, Glasgow. Sunday 10/9/06

One For The Bugs!

I imagine that not many of you will be insect fans. I imagine virtually none of you will be fans of spiders. Therefore I don't exactly expect an outpouring of grief over the unfortunate arachnid that I inadvertantly crushed to death the other morning. I had awoken as usual, groggy and in the foulest of foul moods at having to arise at 7.30 am. I adjourned to the rain room for half an hour to make myself feel better as much as to clean my rotting corpse. On returning to my bedroom to get dressed I noticed what looked like crumbs lying on my unmade bed. Closer inspection revealed that it hadn't been the residue of whatever I was eating in bed the night before (honest, I don't make a habit of it!), but the remains of a spider. It's legs were everywhere, what I took to be the body was all shrivelled. I then noticed a small purplish stain on the bedsheet. Let's just say that this had obviously been a bit of a gruesome death. Insect Horror Movie stuff. I removed the bed sheet for washing and disposed of the remains. I think the poor blighter would rather have been stamped on to be honest.

Living in an old tenement you get plenty of these fellows floating around. I'm just glad it was a standard issue house spider. If I'd rolled over on the enormous fat fucker that's been prowling our house for the past month I reckon i'd have felt it under me.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

Anyway, I don't mind insects. Ladybirds are awesome. They are especially impressive when they open their shells and fly off. They look enormous when airborne.

Bumble bee's are also high up on my list. It's the tiny little wings and huge hairy bodies that get me. I think I read somewhere that thet defy physics when they fly. It would seem that this is scientific urban myth. Their wings rotate not unlike helicopter blades, so they don't 'fly' in conventional terms, they hover. This makes sense when you watch them up close.

Gratuitous Al-Fresco Ladybird Porn.

Must. Write. Something.

Evening all! You can find out what I got up to at the weekend over at The Gyp. The report will be up in time............Just enjoy the pictures for now. I definitely made the right choice on saturday. The other option for the weekend was a trip to Firhill to watch Partick Thistle. At 4.45 pm I was Standing in a pub in North Berwick watching the scores coming in like the expectant fool I am. A 5-1 defeat had me muttering into my pint and looking for a corner to sulk in. The fact I'd missed what was obviously another Firhill collapsing clown car special did bring me a little consolation. Anyway, it's impossible to be unhappy for long when the weather is so good and you've spent a fair portion of the day communing with nature and gazing down on humanity from on high. Ok, maybe not 'communing' exactly, but getting fairly close to it. What else.............. I found the official site giving 'information' about the new extension to the M74 motorway. Basically it's another fuck off big motorway being rammed through the heart of Glasgow. Just what we fucking need. It doesn't help that the Scottish Executive have rail-roaded this proposal through, despite the fact that the independent report advised against it, the locals don't want it and the alleviation of congestion on the M8 will in the long term be negligible. You build more roads, you just get more cars to fill them up. Fuckwits! The site makes banal, yet surreal reading. Of course, some things never change Do any of my readers live in the construction zone for this thing? Do any of my readers think this can only be of benefit to the city? Do any of my readers give a shit? The basic problem is that the current motorway system through Glasgow was never properly finished and it carries far more traffic than it was designed to take. The story of the proposed inner ringroad and the multitude of other motorways that were going to link to it can be found here. The vision of the mentalist who conceived it all at the end of the war can be found here, here and here. If Mr Bruce had got his way the City Chambers, the cathedral and various Rennie MacIntosh buildings would have been raised to the ground. How wonderful! I suppose you have to take into account the fact that he was a man of his time. Urban planning was very much in vogue at the end of the war and he wasn't the only one whose desire it was to rid a European industrial cities of their appalling poverty and overcrowding. Still, it still seems like lunatic vandalism to want to wipe out the majority of buildings in a city centre regardless of whether they were good or bad purely in the name of 'starting anew'. Anyway, now you all know i'm a secret motorway nerd ("~). .........and yes, such people do exist. The 'Pathetic Motorways' site I linked to is but the tip of the iceberg. It's fairly amusing at least. Just through googling some keywords regarding the subject at hand, I have tumbled over some of the most pedantic, pointless human beings you will never want to meet. I suppose it's about par for the course with such subject matter.

The Dentist Part 2

"Greetings Malcolm!" Malcolm Severin could only croak in response, his throat and mouth were utterly devoid of moisture. Instead he limply offered his hand and a nervous smile. It was meant to have been a firm handshake and a smirk with an ernestly raised ayebrow. Not that Darling and his cohorts would have noticed the difference, but it would have made him feel better. Malcolm was in no mood for small talk but he got it anyway. He wasn't really in a position to demand that Darling cut the jackanory. "I've been telling my boys here all about you Malcolm. Told them how you almost had me in the grubber during our wee poker game a few weeks ago. Isn't that right Malky?" "Uh, well, I thought I had the upper hand for a while anyway" said Malcolm, by now feeling more than just a little ludicrous. The other three men, in stark contrast to the very animated Darling looked on with sullen disinterest. They looked decidedly unenthralled by the tall, slightly balding dentist in front of them. Malcolm's alledged prowess at card games meant less than nothing to them. Malcolm looked up and glanced at his surgery door. Darling followed his gaze up the marble steps to the locked blue storm doors and immediately changed the subject. "Right boys, down to business. I trust you cleared your patient list today Mr Severin? Don't want someone stumbling in looking to get their braces tuned to radio 2, do we?" Darling chuckled at his own joke and looked meaningfully at Malcolm. "Sure, and the staff are out of the way until 1pm, there won't be any problems" Malcolm's voice was starting to get back to normal. For the past few minutes he had been talking like a hormonal choirboy who's voice had just broken. "Good boy Malcolm" Darling smirked nastily. Now, how about you do the honours and let us get about our business, we won't be long" "Business?" Malcolm had been under the rather naive impression that he would be doing dental work for either Mr Darling one of the the three stooges. A frightening enough prospect in itself. Now there was "Business". On entering the lobby of the practice, the two heavies made their way instinctively towards his main surgery room like they had been coming there to have their teeth checked since they were children. Maybe they had, for all Malcolm knew. He ceratinly hadn't treated them though. He felt sure he would have noticed the bolts through their necks, even at a tender age. The small denim clad man now came into focus a little more. Malcolm was somewhat unsurprised to find that his earlier assessment of this individual had been fairly close to the mark. The cheap tattoos were very much in evidence. So were the letters U.F.F. demurely displayed on the back of his neck. He doubted he was a Status Quo roadie though. Malcolm was ruminating upon what he might have got himself into when he felt the firm grip of Eddie Darling's hand on his shoulder as he was steered ever so gently into the reception area. He turned to face this man who's benign and easy nature had seduced him a few weeks earlier. A man who obviously never got his hands dirty when it came to the less pleasant elements of his trade. "You mentioned something about 'business' Eddie. What exactly do you mean by 'business'? I thought I was doing someones teeth this morning." Darling grinned demonically at Malcolm's wide eyed, almost childlike pleading. "Don't worry son, it's nothing you have to worry about. Consider it a favour of sorts. Me and the boys have decided to give you monday mornings off." The small man with the tattoos stuck his head round the door at this point and gave the thumbs up. Malcolm still hadn't heard him speak. He suspected there was a reason for this. Eddie Darling moved towards the door of the reception before beckoning Malcolm to follow. He did so and to his relief he realised Darling was making for the main door. Out on the street Darling gave him his final intructions. He was not to go home. Instead he would be expected to drive into the city, park his car in a designated nearby underground car park before adjourning to Mr Darlings private club in Soho for a period of time in which he would be furnished with whatever he desired before making his way back to the surgery for about half past twelve. The instructions seemed simple enough. The perks seemed conducive enough. Why the hell should he worry what they were using his dental surgery for?

It's An Ill Wind...........

I had planned on having part two of 'The Dentist' up tonight. Only, I left my notebook at work and simply couldn't be arsed trying to remember how it went. Anyway, it means I can hone it tomorrow at work while our server is on the blink (oh, it will be, mark my words...) Some weeks back, Clairwil had brought up the subject of men farting in bed and sticking their wives/girlfriends heads under the duvet to, as it were, 'sample the aroma'. Curious as always, I asked two chaps at work that I know are in relationships about the phenomenon. To my utter astonishment they chuckled and admitted that yes, they had done it on a fair few occassions. Is it just me? Is that just NOT the sort of thing you would subject anyone to? Never mind your girlfriend? That said, it must say something about a relationship if it's reached that stage. Possibly the following............... 1- You are a boorish and sadistic twat and your partner either enjoys it or hasn't the confidence to punch you in the nuts every time you do it. 2- You believe that the more you act like a nine year old, the more she'll love you. Depressingly, this may sometimes be true. 3- Your relationship has lost all of it's purpose and you really ought to see about finding someone else to fuck. It's entirely possible that I am misinterpreting a harmless act of jocularity here and a lot of women think nothing of it. If so, I stand corrected. Still, mustn't encourage the bastards.................

Bass Rock

Why? Cos I like it. That's why. Part two of 'The Dentist' is in the process of being scribbled out. Still no idea where it's going though..................It should be up tomorrow night. Cheers!

A Weekend Wasted/Well Spent

Friday night proved to be a bit of an anti-climax. We had hoped that a few ace faces would turn up and lighten up our night. They did and they didn't. Heather from Dazed & Confuzzled did her best, turning up for an hour or so after work and making us glad we didn't work in Marks and Sparks. Hope the weekend shifts weren't too brutal old bean.... Clairwil and I then got into conversation with a pair of lecturers. The bloke was ok, a bit boring(aren't they all?) but his female companion was a right pain in the rectum. I was labelled as 'middle class'. Fuck!, I only wish I was...........I hate, loathe and despise people who make judgements about you after talking to you for fifteen minutes. This stupid bastard thought that because I didn't talk in glottal stops and pronounced most words properly, I must be middle class. I was too astonished to make any coherent response, much to my shame. People like that need a swift toe in the intellectual co'xones. I was unable to provide it............ Until Now! I suppose it depends on what you regard as middle class. To me 'middle class' is private schools, a big house, two/three cars and an income of around thirty-fifty grand a year. That rules me right out (sorry ladies!) So where does this 'middle class' accusation come from? She pinpointed my language and accent (a bit Kelvinside/west end, if you please....). Shite! I choose to speak the QE as best I can, but that has shite all to do with what YOU happen to think my social strata might be. I decided that talking like a wee trainee hardman shitebag wasn't for me a long, long time ago. PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR NOT GROWING UP IN THE FUCKING GORBALS LIKE YOU DID!!!!!!! The fact she seemed ever so proud of the fact that despite her education, years in Spain and bi-lingual status, she still talks like a junkie begging loose change in Sauchiehall St says pretty much everything. Stanley Baxter my fucking arse!

Anyway, we seem to have had a right old skinfull on friday night. I couldn't move on saturday and spent the day watching Mighty Boosh dvd's. Sunday came and went and I did fuck all. One last chance today........... I wandered off to North Berwick and despite the delays and not getting there until past 4pm, I kind of fell in love with the place again. It's a long time since I was last there, but the weather was awesome and that's all I could possibly have asked for. I made the most of my two hours and hit the seafront (two ruddy big bays!!), the harbour and the seabird centre.

Anyway, I shall post something more substantial in The Gyp in the next few days....... Peace, Love and all that shite............. Ill Man

Gone To The Pub

What are you lot having then?