Time Gentlemen, Please!

It would seem the Western Bar has closed. I could be wrong, the landlord could be on holiday................. Nah, I think it's gone belly up. I was only ever in it once. It was very quiet that night but it was fairly welcoming and comfy. What it was like at half ten on a saturday night was maybe another story................. I always remember it for the scary looking dummy with the waxed raincoat, broad brimmed hat and tankard that sat in one of the windows, the excruciating karaoke that thundered from it's walls and the drunken old jossers staggering home after a good old skinfull. Did the smoking ban kill it? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. More than likely the landlord decided to sell up and move on because he simply couldn't compete with the two bigger pubs a few hundred yards down the road. I await it's next incarnation with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

A Drunk Man Casts About For Something To Blog About.

Yay! I've been rummaging around blogland for the first time in ages and lo, I have found a new favourite blog. 'Over Here' is the journal of an Irish woman living in Canada, working as, I think, a research scientist. Anyone who has a near miss with a bottle of fermenting(not to mention exploding) tomato ketchup and lives to tell the tale has to have something going for them. Oh, and her writing kicks arse. I also found that people will make electro versions of just about anything. I actually rather enjoyed it to be honest..... Here is the site I found the link on. That will be all!

Brothel Wars

Oh lord!! Seedy saunas, 'masseuses' in naughty nurse outfits, sword wielding mad men, Triads, the second coming....................... Ok, maybe not the second coming, but I was just waiting for it to be shoe horned into this rather bizarre little story I found in Glasgow scandal 'zine 'The Digger'. Basically the guy who writes it turns up at trials and court hearings before reporting the gory details in his A5 pamphlet which is sold in various independent newsagents in the city. To cut a long story short, Hugh 'Shug' O'Donnell wants to put a few rival rub-a-tug shops out of business. He appears at one of them brandishing a 'leather double handed sword' and proceeds to 'go completely off his nut', chasing employees and clients out into the street. The place in question is run by the local Triads. This seems not to bother our mentalist chum and he proceeds to threaten the ladies of the establishment with violence unless they come to work for him. Hasn't he heard of PR or Advertising? Or is this his idea of headhunting.............? The madness doesn't end there. In a web of criminality far too byzantine and tedious to cover in any detail here it would seem that 'Shug' who has property in Jersey and The Isle Of Man by the way, was arrested coming off a jet in Dubai for his earlier hooker threatening episode. Add to this accusations of money laundering, naughty knicker smuggling operations at prisons and the obligatory drug dealing and you may well have the next 'ice cream wars' . Sort of. All I can say is that this magazine should have an online counterpart. I simply cannot do justice to the real life lunacy that lies between it's covers.

May The Farce Be With You!

Evening all! First of all, i'd like to recommend the Camera Obscura album. The songs have a happy/sad feel to them that I adore. It also has the most arresting cd cover i've seen in years. Also, thanks to MySpace, you can now hear the music first and then tell me i'm a cloth eared idiot without spending twelve quid on a CD you'll hate. Ok, shameless plug over with, I simply cannot let pass the news that wee Tone Blair wants his own 'Airforce One' style jet. The cunt. If anyone needed to know just how out of touch our PM is this story should fill in the gaps. The last thing this lying creep deserves is a free aeroplane. Then of course his Chancellor and successor Gordon Brown pitches in and tells him such a thing won't be affordable until 2008, by which time Gordo hopes to have his expansive arse occupying a couple of window seats i'm sure.......... Some of you may be wondering why i'm so tickled by this story. The main reason is that the Blair MO is self agrandisment and an obsession with posterity. I don't believe he's bothered about what people think of him, as long as he goes down in history as a figure of significance. The rush to war can have no other explanation. He's a reasonably intelligent man and I believe he realises his Iraq rhetoric is horseshit. He knew people could be just about swayed with the 'smoke and mirrors' spin that had been perfected over his term and a half in office and took the chance of involving himself in a situation that i'm sure he convinced himself would be fully resolved within a year tops. 'Blair-Force One' looks like an attempt at faux presidential splendour and just another sign that the man is desperate to angle the position of PM towards something approaching the regard in which US Presidents are held('My President, right or wrong'). He could of course just be another dead beat world leader on his last legs looking for something to impress chumps like Berlusconi and Bush with before he fucks off to the House Of Lords once and for all.

My Tracker Has A Sex Life I Can Only Dream Of

Slowly but surely my blog has begun to attract the web sex hunters again. Since I ditched the 'Dirty Young Man' name, i've been fairly untroubled by such callers. Not any more. Most of these search engine requests end up in disappointment for the particular person that entered them, but one has to admire their persistance. If they're willing to rumage through my site on the off chance of finding what they want then fair play to them. The most common search engine entry relating to my blog of late has been 'Man Fucking Man'. To be honest, this is probably the homosexual equivelent of entering 'Hardcore Fucking' or 'Blondes With Big Tits' and as such doesn't really merit anything more than a raised eyebrow. Next up we have 'How To Talk Dirty To A Man Giving Head'. You mean they give lessons? Surely the gutter talk would flow quite naturally? If you have to rehearse and remember what to say in such a situation, I think it's probable that you ought to be doing something a little less spontaneous and exciting anyway. Maybe it's better to just say nothing and go with the flow............ Then there's the obligatory bestiality requests. In my case it's 'Man Fucking Animals'. Further down my list is a similar request, this time specifically looking for photos. I couldn't help my curiosity and hit the link. To be honest, I was a tad unimpressed. The search engine page turned up a news story about a man who died after a bit of equine lovin'(the mind boggles), but little else. To be honest, I think they would have more joy with the 'image search' option but it's not really my place to suggest such things. If anyone else has any utterly bizarre search engine requests in their tracker, please feel free to mention them. I could do with a laugh. Cheers!

Obsevations On The Subject Of Wanderlust

The weekend, apart from getting me out and about and away from the city for a few days brought me into contact with a couple of people that have given me reason to marvel at human ingenuity and bloody mindedness. Well, by 'contact', I mean I had brief encounters with them and heard their stories in something of a second hand manner. Both people spend a fair proportion of their lives on the move. I heard one of them described as a 'saddle tramp'. Maybe a little crude, but not without an element of truth. Speedy turns up at motorcycle race meetings on a sporadic basis. He volunteers to marshall, which put's him a league above the ringpieces that freeload in with rider entrants and spend the weekend doing fuck all. Cheers! Speedy's a strange sort, a quiet chap with a nervous laugh and something of an independent nature. As a result he's not really acknowledged as race marshall material but that's not what interests me about him. From what I know, he lives in Campbeltown on the Mull of Kintyre, on the west coast and the only race tracks in Scotland are situated in Fife and East Lothian, in the east. Getting to his 'local' circuit is an enormous journey undertaken via hitchhiking and public transport and he can often be seen standing at one of the rural bus stops near the circuit waiting on an early evening bus or the kindness of a passing motorist to get him part of the way home. I'd hate to think what the round journey is. I would salute his indefatigability, but he probably thinks nothing of it. The only thing that makes him strange is that he comes and goes on his own I suppose, just to stand by the track and watch motorcycles going round in circles. This of course is all put into perspective by the the French woman who turned up at the meeting this weekend. She appeared at the same weekend last year. She rides a tiny Motobecane moped that does about 30mph flat out. Maybe 40 on a downhill slope with a tailwind. It would seem that she travels Europe on it, going to bike meets and setting up camp wherever takes her fancy. Where she stores her camping gear on such a tiny machine I have no idea. The other thing that staggers me is how she makes her progress. She can't take her bike onto any motorway, so she basically has to take her fair share of back roads, though I doubt this fazes her at all. If you've resolved to see the world at thirty mph, I doubt very much if a bit of map reading and the odd scenic route is going to bother you terribly. The road miles show on her face, which is bronzed and weather beaten. Though i'm not entirely sure how old she is, she looks both child like and older than the hills. Quite disconcerting, especially when she appears next to you and starts babbling in her rather good Frenglish. So, there I am thinking i'm the bees knees because I go on the odd Gyp. Compared to these two wanderers i'm just a 'stay at home' nancy boy who wouldn't know the world at large if it bit me on the arse. Then again, you all knew that anyway. Cheers!

A Request

Hello Would the three people who visited my blog on saturday please come forward so I can thank you personally for your patronage. No, really.............. Ok, I was away for the weekend, but THREE? MY hit rate is modest, certainly, but that's ridiculous. I will admit to being a slave to my tracker and this is deeply unhealthy. Definitely anal-retentive behaviour. Hope you all had at least a bearable weekend. For the record, I spent two days in a field in East Lothian again, helping to ensure that a few hundred mental cases on motorcycles were able to 'safely' ride like lunatics. Don't ask.... For my part it involved getting wet and covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat that I'll still feel for the next few days no matter how many times I shower. Anyway, all I want to be doing right now is sitting in bed watching Futurama DVD's. So there...........