Tigers 47 Monarchs 43

Heat 1, Lap1, Turn 3.

Hello!

Another afternoon spent at the Church of Noise that is Ashfield Stadium, watching the Glasgow Tigers in action. Such a curious culture the old Speedway. Fiercly partisan of course, but it has that 'maw, paw and the weans' feel to it that football or many other close quarters spectator sports generally can't touch. It's also not uncommon for the opposing fans to applaud the efforts of each others riders, though when you consider the danger inherent in the sport, this is should be no surprise. A jammed throttle for Monarchs rider Andrew Tully during the warm-up saw the ambulance out for the only time today, but rib, chest, leg and arm/shoulder injuries are common and the balls needed to ride at any level in the sport seems to be deeply appreciated. Former riders returning with a new team and stuffing the home team are especially given due respect (though often slightly grudging). Try that at a football match and see how far you get without being lynched.

Shane Takes the applause after the final heat victory

Todays tie against the Edinburgh Monarchs was probably the closest I've seen since I started going, with the scores tied right up until the last heat. The Tigers top riders George Stancl and Shane Parker had been posting decent results all day, along with Trent Leverington but the middle and lower order had been disappointing. Both Stancl and Parker did the business in the final heat and did enough to put the Tigers into the Premier Trophy semi's.

Anyway, Shane Parker managed his second maximum points tally on the trot. The guy is a genius and I just wish the Tigers had a little more strength in depth.

Captain Fantastic Shane Parker interviewed after the tie.


Blog posts of the week -

The Great She Elephant and the German pensioner horror. Not being a great deal of fun in the morning myself, I can only sympathise.


The Flying Rodent and something about mice, political dogma and computer code. I actually recognise the computer code being referred to. The best I could manage with it as a kid was to make the screen fill up with messages for my brother like "Ruaridh Is A Cunt" and "(Bloggers name removed) is Fucking Ace" I've since grown up and realised that my brother isn't a cunt. He's an arse, and a rather loveable one at that. Bless!

'Life In A Scotch Toilet Cubicle Pt I'

"..........and then I stumbled upon the comment box and realised I could truly say nothing of any real worth.

To those who engage with the spirit of humanity alone, those who accept dichotomy and exception, those who reject simplistic, verbatim reasoning and easy answers, those who actually understand what they are saying..........

I give my humble respect and hope against hope that you aren't wasting your time."

On the other hand, all you can expect here is witless swearing, obnoxious flippancy and few, if any prisoners. Oh yeah, and the odd YouTube clip. Hurrah!

As predicted, I'm three sheets to the wind and presently doing my best to making the situation worse. Aren't weekends wonderful? If you're wondering why my spelling is so good, well don't. I'm just better than you, get used to it.

Spent the night with some peeps from work and the lame buffet at La Tasca apart, it was fairly enjoyable. Got to meet my pal Adam's girlfriend and to be honest she was the only thing stopping the the evening descending into one long 'footy centric' circle jerk. Instead we talked about who we fancied, what makes a man 'gay' and who we would shag if we had to 'do' a bloke. All very much to the amusement of the female company.

For what it's worth, my choices were Amy Winehouse, 'Fucked If I Know' and Kevin Spacey.

or have I got that the wrong way around?

Ok, enough pish, let's go Youtubin'...............

One Of A Thousand Reasons Why I Fucking Love Willie Nelson

First the Tax Man, now the Drug Squad.......

Can't they just leave the old goat alone? Ah, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke......

Also, go here for more pop culture icons.........

If I post tomorrow night, I will probably be very, very drunk. Just like most Friday nights then.....................

Cheers!

Death Of A Salesman

And lo, The beast lay slain at the foot of the garden, at least until the morn, and the iLL Man laid down his trusty administrative sword and put his feet up and had a beer or four..............

Fucking spamming cankersores. I wish them nothing but gut churning agony, the likes of which no amount of morphine can ever tame. This is the price I pay for not having the tiresome, not to mention frustrating word verification feature on my site. It's for you dear reader that I have dispensed with such security measures, for your ease of access and expression. My punishment for such an open and liberal approach to blogging is that I am open to the receipt of such advertising gems as.............

"Great Blog, I Love it! Keep it up!!!!!...........Hitlers Brain In Formaldehyde Only $100!! Crap That Wouldn't Shift At A Car-Boot Sale!, Cheap Child Labour Here!!!, Sundry Electrical Goods!! If It's Broken You're Fucked HaHa!!!, Fake Porno Sites To At Least make You Look!! Go On Make My Day You Rubes!!!............."

I truly despair. Tell you what chaps, you keep posting yer crap, I'll keep deleting it and maybe one day I'll meet you in hell and we can all have a nice chat over a latte and some biscotti* about the whole thing. Wouldn't that be sooper?

*For Hell is surely a branch of Costa Coffee is it not?


Tomorrow - Special guest and 'Feegie Cooncillor' Terry Kelly dons his consumer advice hat and test drives the latest alcoholic refreshments on the market in the first of what I hope will be many weekly bevvy reviews that ought to put beer buff Michael Jackson to shame.

It's not like he'll be up to much in a months time anyway.............

Some Children Will Do Anything For The Love Of Their Mother.........

So, this toddler fighting lark. Popular is it?

Bloody shit thick amateurs, didn't even have the guile to try making some money off it...........

I have to say, my jaw dropped when I heard this one. It actually sounds not unlike something out of Blue Jam or Brass Eye. As with many cruel and stupid people, the women in question didn't seem to believe that their actions were in any way objectionable and decided that nobody would mind if they left evidence of their little hobby lying about for just anyone to find.
File Under: Am I Really Reading This?

Ok, I've only gone and forgotten my bank PIN number..

"How the fuck did you manage that iLL Man!!!" I hear you all shout.

Well, I've been entering the number for about six months without any real problem, yet yesterday I'm in the Co-Op and standing at the machine, sprawling over cardboard boxes and other gubbins left over from the latest re-fit (an absolute disaster in my mind, the place seems even smaller than it was) and trying to get what little cash I have out of the machine. It was one of those moments where you can't remember quite what order the digits go in. Twice I entered what I thought was my code, only to be told that I had typed in the wrong number. I believe these machines swallow your card after the third unsuccessful attempt, so I got the hell out of there before something drastic happened. I still can't decide what the right combo is and I now only have one attempt at it left. I'm just going to get the PIN changed and draw out cash from a branch in the interim.......

I think this is only the start of some kind of premature dementia. I'm genuinely freaked out by this and haven't been quite right since...............
File Under: Why Doesn't My Brain Work Properly?

Thank God for cousin Al and his Circle Of Tyrants. Thrash Metal isn't really my bag, but the gig at the Soundhaus was a good laugh. COT actually took me by surprise, heavier than an axe in the forehead and plenty good banter between songs. Oh, and stagediving too. The last time I saw that, the bouncers at The Garage were trying to make their minds up if they really wanted to go in after the naked singer from The Jesus Lizard.

I don't get out much folks......

I was then accosted on the way home by three rather lovely and amusing dames who decided that it might be a good idea if I joined them on their quest for more booz, despite the fact that I only had about a tenner to my name. I decided that the night was indeed young and it would be a pleasure to join them. Anyway, turns out Tawnya and Jodi are Canadians travelling across Europe and Diane is putting them up for a few days. Ended up in the ABC for a few and then over the road for some Pakora.

Cheers for the fags, beer and laughs ladies.
File Under: You Know, Things Could Be So Much Fucking Worse.......

YouTube!!



Also, bow down to the genius that is Bum Hand

PNNC (Play Nicely Now Children) : A Code Of Conduct For A Brighter Blogging Future

..................Or The Truth About Blogging In Ten Easy Steps

After the hoopla surrounding this attempt to teach granny to suck eggs, I have taken it upon myself to fashion a more realistic and less simperingly smug set of guidelines for todays modern-day blogger of today. They principally concern the visitors to my blog and the interactions I have/might have with them. These are intended to be applied universally by all blog owners. Or possibly derided at length by a new strain of post-'post-ironic' bloggers I've never even heard of. The Fuckers!!!!!

Basically, there is only one rule:

1- Say what you want on my blog, but know the meaning of my responses and live by them.

i - No response -This means I'm ignoring you for the facile fuckwit you truly are. Or I'm really, really busy. Or your name is Professor Smile and you've commented on a blog post from about two years ago. If it's the latter, please refer to points (ii) & (iii) If you are unsure what category you fall into, please email me and I'll do my best to fail to let you know.

ii - General or non-commital response - You have just communicated with me in a way that defies general convention, I haven't the slightest fucking clue what you are slabbering on about but I don't wish to seem ignorant and rude. In this situation, I will either say something equally meaningless or try to figure out what you're talking about. Depends on how interesting you seem and how much time I have on my hands. See also point (iv) This response may also be used to subtly tell you to piss off, though it's rarely effective. It's always better to use a fairly blunt weapon such as the.........

iii - Foul mouthed and abusive response - You are a malodorous, malevolent and unctious little Quisling who copulates with farm animals, A watery cum stain on the face of humanity, A vile, mendacious shitehawk of the worst kind, A pox upon a pox upon a pox............ You may also be a close and personal friend who enjoys being spoken to in such a manner. I don't know...........

iv - Engaging and upbeat response - I am genuinely pleased to hear from you. You have probably been the first person to comment on my blog in about a week and I'm more than happy to answer your strange coded message in more depth than it deserves. You may also have agreed with something I said, which makes you a wonderful person.................

v - Verbatim (or rote) response - You have conveyed your salutations. They are much appreciated, but I don't really know what else to say other than "Cheers!" back. This single word response will usually take between ten and fifteen minutes of soul searching and an infinite number of drafts to come up with.

vi - Listed response - A wee gaggle of you have all left lovely, pertinent and quite flattering messages on my blog. I am more than happy to respond to you 'individually at once' as it were. Form an orderly queue..........

vii - Fisking response - You've said rather a lot and most of it isn't terribly complimentary. It's more than I can be bothered reading actually, so I shall simply lift the bits that can be quoted and made to seem fallacious, and say "No, thou art the liar"

viii - Delayed response - No, really, I've barely had time to scratch my arse. Here's a thought, why not provide your own responses? Pretend you're me. Go on, it'll be fun!

ix - "Calm Down, Calm Down" response - This means that I will not tolerate a bitch fight on my blog and I'm giving you five minutes to make friends or take it elsewhere. If the argument is particularly entertaining, I may defer wrist slapping for a few days though........ Or at least until someone starts throwing paedophile accusations about.

x - Deletion - Nothing personal, I just don't want to buy your cheap fucking tat.

Feel free to add to the list folks. Maybe, just maybe, one day the blogosphere will take notice of these edicts and "The World Will Live As One" *

One can but hope.

*Inspirational Lyric Quoted from 'Borstal Breakout' by Sham 69 (1978 Polydor 7" 2058 966)

Love Is Cheap

.................about 40p a bar going by this report. Isn't it great? I can buy a bar of Bournville/Dairy Milk and the sensations I get from scoffing said confectionery should give me a buzz that apparently negates the need to engage in tonsil hockey with the opposite sex. It's actually my lack of charm and odd personality that do all the negating in that respect, but it's nice to know that the heady rush gained from a passionate kiss with someone you really rather like can be replaced by letting some chocolate melt in your mouth. This has it's advantages. Chocolate doesn't bite your tongue, give you freakish throat infections, suck your lips until they turn blue and feverishly attempt to retrieve your last meal by sticking it's tongue down your throat. Nor does it leave at the drop of a hat with it's gay/ugly mate to catch the night bus home. It does rot your teeth and make you fat but you can't have everything.

So, does anyone really favour a door-stop sized bar of Galaxy over a bit of 'In/Out' with the dancing partner of ones choosing? Oh, and if you do anything other than eat it, please don't tell me, I might hate you forever...............

That said, I have all the passion of a dead Halibut so fire away........................

Anyway, answers on a Terry Kelly Campaign Leaflet, tied to a half brick and addressed to an as yet unbuilt luxury condo on what is for now Seedhill Playingfields

Don't Fuck With Me Asshole, I'm Ten Times As Boring As You'll Ever Be!

Office bores. They bore you and bore you and then as if that wasn't enough for them, they bore you a little bit more so that come five O'Clock, you don't get yr coat and go out the door, but instead open a window, perch above the traffic below and convince yrself that pavements really are made of mattresses and marshmallow. I of course have a stronger mind than that. I counter fire with fire and deliver a few salvo's of my own. Todays topic was Scottish Cup winners and old footie teams. Office bore gives it big licks with how he once stored the OVD Junior Cup in his mothers back room to prevent it getting damaged, before telling us that he's handled every domestic football trophy in Scotland. Fact and fiction are one and the same to this clown.

Solid, who sits opposite me is partly culpable, mainly because he believes absolutely everything you tell him, so OB gets his jollies with little or no effort. Thing is, I know as much as OB does, if not more, about the arcane elements of Scottish football and he didn't like the fact that I knew St Bernards had never won the Scottish Cup*. I later informed him about things he didn't know about Stirling Albion and their previous incarnation, Kings Park. The final straw came when shortly after he claiming St Bernards were a Glasgow team, I turned round and stated that they were in fact an Edinburgh team. He didn't seem interested then........

Yes, I am a jumped up little prick, but theres nothing better than pricking the bubble of conceit and pomposity with some of your own.

Anyway, it's come to my notice that I have neglected to post on this fair blog for a full four days. Not like me really, I've always got some tedious guff to impart. So where have I been? I'd like you all to think I've been Drug Running On A Panamanian Schooner, or maybe Running Wild With The One I Love or possibly Living In A Trailer At The Edge Of Town

Alas, none of them are true. If only life conformed to carefully chosen song lyrics...................................

Adios my sweethearts.......

*Little known fact. St Bernards did actually win the Scottish Cup in 1895. So I was wrong.........

Did Jesus Invent Sudoku?

Just wondering really, cos he seems to have some really nifty noughts and crosses moves up his sleeve. How does that one work? Surely after the first diagonal line has been completed the game is won. Was his opponent so poor that he not only failed to block any of the big J's moves but also failed to notice him putting in extra crosses? Maybe his opponent was distracted. Maybe it was one of his un-recorded miracles. Is it possible he pulled this one on Judas one quiet afternoon by the sea of Galilee, with rather unpleasant repercussions?

Surely a hollow victory nonetheless..........

I suppose I shouldn't be so blasphemously literal. Maybe the poster refers to a wider concept, something less specific. This being organised religion, the wider and less specific you can be with your symbolism the better , even to the point of inadvertently comparing Christs Ministry to cheating like a right bugger at simple pencil and pad games.

Just don't play any Christians at 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', that's all I'm saying.....

If only the Coca~Cola Co. had the balls to be so irreverent about the Messiah. It would seem that a new Italian film called Seven Kilometers From Jerusalem contains a scene in which Jesus meets the main character, an ad exec in search of spiritual fulfillment (It's been known to happen) and asking for something to drink, the now 'ex' exec offers the son of God a shiny red can of Satan's bile juice. I can see where Coke are coming from though, the film seems to be irreverent, ironic and absurd, and as such is open to literal interpretation by the religious goon squad. Just think, that contract to supply the Vatican with your tooth rot dispensers will only be the first of many to go.......

It's a moot point anyway, Jesus drank Irn Bru. Everyone knows that.............

Where's My Egg You Bastards?

Well, the sailors are home and the nation unites as one to say............. "Fuck off you traitorous cowards". That's if the BBC 'Have Your Say' board is anything to go by........ And it's probably not. The mind boggles at what the lunatic right have to say on the matter. No fan of the military, no lover of war, but these people are doing something that 99% of the jumped up little keyboard warriors(TM Flying Rodent) of this nation would run a mile from. Myself included. Ignorance, arrogance and bluster from people who either still think we're fighting the Jerries or who genuinely believe that life plays like an action movie.

Cunts!

Ok, on the subject of cunts, my employers handed out easter eggs to everyone in the company with the exception of my department. Why? Are we naughty children who don't deserve choccie treats? Ok, so I wasn't too bothered, most easter eggs are gruesome, but hells teeth, it pretty much tells you all you need to know about how you're valued within the company. I just contented myself with a bar of Bournville from the vending machine. Of course, they'll all get scoffed and the fucking moron that comes to fill our machine will take this as a sign that they can't be very popular and never stock them ever again.

FridayYouTubeNonsense.....

Ooh! Zeitgeisty.....

We Have Come To Assimilate You

Serves me right I suppose. A few hours out the office I thought, maybe a few buns and a cup of tea......back in time for lunch and an easy day for all concerned......

Aye right! Inductions are hell. If any of you have ever worked for a company that has been 'merged' with a bigger firm (or taken over if you wish to dispense with the euphemisms) you'll know the procedure. Two gonks from the new company come and tell you things you really have no interest in knowing, interspersing the flannel with self-conscious usage of words like "Synergy" and nervous chuckling at their own lame banter.

I'm being a bit unfair as the nature of the business I work for means that a lot of people have concerns about the whole deal regarding their careers. They're not all workshy, apathetic curs you know. I am though and quite frankly I wish companies would give people like me the recognition we deserve and exempt us from such tedious balderdash. Do I have to get a T-shirt printed saying "I Won't Be Here A Years Time" ?

Oh, and they're big on "Diversity". Ha! Diversity training, I'm looking forward to that one.....

What is it? How does it go? Has anyone been through it? It sounds sinister, but maybe it isn't. maybe it's worse than that.

Maybe it's boring as fuck.

Oh, and I never did get the tea and buns. The tight bastards!

We Will Return After These Messages.....

Another late post. Blogger threw a spaz on me, so I've had to content myself with spouting nonsense over on ptfc.net.

I've been soup making tonight. It was just an ad-hoc thing, based around Clairwil's idea of a "What's in the cupboard/fridge/leftover from last nights tea" soup. I was missing a few things, but then I did add a few odds and sods too. It looks a bit 'minestrone-ish'. Not sure if that's right, but it certainly tastes damn fine. I'm sure the iLL Mother (and she's been a bit iffy recently) will help herself to some of it tomorrow.

Two more things. I can heartily recommend as a day trip, taking the Carlisle train from Glasgow Central and alighting maybe at Dumfries. All you need is a cracking day. The Ayrshire leg is a bit of a curates egg, some of it's a wee bit grim, but the scenery is lovely. The section that follows the Nith to Dumfries is pretty much unspoilt. If yr feeling brave, you could always get off at New Cumnock or Auchinleck..................(No, seriously, DON'T!!)

The other thing I realised was the droning noise I've been hearing in the background on Sunday afternoons for the past eight years or so is the Glasgow Tigers speedway team at Ashfield Stadium. I had never bothered to go until Sunday there. To think I pay out good money after bad every fortnight at Firhill, when I could be having twice as much fun watching lunatics ride around a 350 meter shale oval on motorbikes with no brakes. Oh, and you can have a few beers while you watch. What's that all about? Are they mad? Are they European?


Gutten Nacht!

Now, That Was A Weekend!!!!

First Lap Madness
Terry Butcher takes warm up for partick Thistle
Ashfield Stadium

Howdy troops! How was yours? It's late and I'm tired, so I'll just stick some photos up just now. A big thanks to all who responded to my request for soup, especially Clairwil and Katy. All suggestions will be attempted in the coming weeks and months. I'll let you know how they go.

Cheers!