El Gothico Español

Honey - I'm honed

2010-12-26T04:35:00.010+01:00

Sorry Space Cadets - I have been away (pissing about on the Faceless-book shite) - it really doesn't give me enough leeway to vent my considered opinions.

So, diving into the deep end of the Jack Daniels pool, let's divide the nations and it 'shit-izens' (point being, they're not all like this):

Korea - all Koreans are idiots (but the scary northern muppets are backed up by the freaky Chinese - woohoo :( )
Belgians - can't drive if one frigging snowflake hits the floor - it's no wonder the European Commission decided to settle there
Americans - are not all mental - but they do seem to make up for it - when they are crazy, they are 'kick the shit out of a tortoise' crazy
British - what part of 'it is hot, stay out of the sun' do you not frigging get? No wonder you look like Rock Lobsters and get slapped on the back by locals
Brazilians - still intrigued about that haircut thing (could be the purr-fect job for me)
French - arrogant mother-fuckers - your food is not that good and your manners suck
Germans - can you tell your women to shave please?
Spanish - you can organise a meal for 10 people and accomodate 20 - have you not figured out why your economy is fucked?
Irish - if you spent one tenth of the time sorting out your own shit instead of opening bars in every city in the world - do you not think you might have the perfect island now? (apart from the shit weather of course)

Now that's the first 10 countries covered, only 182 to go.
Please feel free to add to the list.
Also remember, that the complaints department is closed - but you can speak to our call centre in India.

In A Band Again

2010-06-19T06:01:00.003+02:00

After a hiatus of many years I have decided to perform again. Probably not the wisest of ideas but who gives a fuck.

To explain - many years ago, I was in a rock band. Not a particularly successful rock band but good enough to play theatres, universities, etc.

We would have supported Oasis if the cnuts had turned up.

Anyhoots, I got a 'proper' job and the band spilt up. For many years, I resolutely refused to join a band again as I didn't want to spoil the memories.

Now - that time has passed - I'm back.

Whether this shit works or not is wholly irrelevant - I am back.

It will change absolutely nothing in the world - will not save Africa or be a hit on You Tubeless but, it's only Rock n Roll.

The dubious offers of sexual liasons may or may not reappear, but I will not give a fuck - been there, done that.

I will start a separate Band Blog though - weird shit happens when you are in a band.

Shit Plan - Perfectly Executed

2010-02-27T06:27:00.002+01:00

a) Darwin - idiot with fluffy beard (confirmed) and logic
or
b) idiot with beard, (confirmed) Darwin and fluffy logic

This is not a fucking test, merely a scrambling of words but this is why mankind wages war and pays itself nothing.

Oh how the European Commission laughed.

Meanwhile, back in the real world........

A circus owner runs an ad for a lion tamer and two people show up. One is a good looking older man in his mid-sixties and the other is a gorgeous blonde in her mid-twenties.

The circus owner tells them, "I'm not going to sugar coat it. This is one ferocious lion. He ate my last tamer so you guys better be good or you're history. Here's your equipment -- chair, whip and a gun. Who wants to try out first?"

The girl says, "I'll go first." She walks past the chair, the whip and the gun and steps right into the lion's cage. The lion starts to snarl and pant and begins to charge her. About half way there, she throws open her coat revealing her beautiful naked body. The lion stops dead in his tracks, sheepishly crawls up to her and starts licking her ankles. He continues to lick her calves, kisses them, licks and kisses her privates for several minutes and rests his head at her feet.

The circus owner's mouth is on the floor. He says, "I've never seen a display like that in my life." He then turns to the older man and asks, "Can you top that?"

The older man replies, "No problem, just get that fucking lion out of the way!!!"

Two Faced - Part 2

2010-02-21T09:15:00.004+01:00

Continuing on the topic of lying bastards who should die - let's discuss 'Organised Religion'.

Personally, I do not give a flying fuck what religion you adhere to. If it makes you happy - jolly good.

If you believe in something, I am happy for you.

BUT

DO NOT try to convert me to your religion.

If I choose to believe in a god, I am perfectly capable of making that choice before you accost me with your fake bullshit.

Realistacally - how convinced can you be?

All organised religion is shite - but, feel free to prove me wrong.

Warming Up - Religiously

2010-02-19T01:41:00.005+01:00

I really need to read the bible again - to remind myself of why I so enjoyed criticising it in the past.

For those of you that haven't read it, you should just for the incredible bollocks that it spouts.

I think I may have to have a regular Gothic Post, every Friday - just so that the religious nutters have time to polish their foreheads before getting twatted with Gothic wisdom.

Here are a few examples that were "borrowed" from another author:-

Leviticus (25:44) - states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations - cool, that''s Holland fucked

Leviticus (15: 19-24) - There can be no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

Leviticus (1:9) - If you burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord. The problem is, my neighbours. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

Leviticus (19:27) - Most men get their hair trimmed, even though this is expressly forbidden by . How should they die?

Leviticus (11:6-8) - claims that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but can I still play American football if I wear gloves?

Sorry religious type people - The Goth is back

Facebook - Kiss My Gothic Arse

2010-02-17T00:14:00.004+01:00

Funnily enough, although the title gives it away somewhat, I have been known to offend people. I make no apologies for doing so when said offended people opened themselves to criticism.

Some time ago, I used to spend my time on the train coming up with ludicrous thoughts to provoke institutions into reaction, which I would subsequently post on this blog - with some success I might add. However, I had the time to do it as I was sat on a train travelling from home to work.

Having changed jobs though, I no longer needed to use the train service from Bruxelles and didn't have the time to formulate bizarre ideas. Hence I turned to Two-Facedbook.

Bad mistake.

There are some scary little monsters in that cavern of depravity.

If I want to criticise an individual, I will do it to their face - even if it means I receive a kick in the bollocks for my honesty.

Looking on the bright side - if you want to lighten your personal luggage of superficial friends - use Two-Facedbook.

Thus, I am back (for now) - until the religious nutters freak me out again.

para mí soy sencillo - si usted no quiere saber, no lea

Lost Ship

2009-08-15T08:47:00.009+02:00

"Mystery still surrounds a missing Russian-manned cargo ship" - cool - is that like a Klingon cloaking device? No wonder you can't find it then.

I am so intrigued by the bullshit that emanates from the crusty old gits that they wheel out to give their opinion. So let me elucidate:-

'We cannot find the ship - it has disappeared off the map"
- not a very good map then - is that the version where the world is still flat?

"The cargo was not worth much but they could have hidden valuable cargo amongst the lumber" - yes, that is exactly what I would do with a squillion dollars of cocaine - put it in a very slow boat, with no obvious escape route.

"We think that it's pirates - probably African pirates" - excellent, let's stereotype the pirates who are not from the Caribbean at all, but they have very good sun-tans

"We know they are professional because the transponder unit was deactivated" - so only MacGyver can use a penknife? You know nothing of the - A Team.

"It is possible that nuclear weapons were the target" - oh fuck off - stop watching James Bond movies you old twat. Get up to date and watch XXX or GI Joe.

So now, with trepidation, we wait for the finale. Could the ship possibly have been spotted entering the Bermuda Triangle? Has the ship been beamed up by aliens who were desperate to save their dying planet?

As they started the bullshit contest, my turn now:-

The ship had a cargo of trees and they did what nature intended - they tried to put down roots.

Nice in principle, but not so nice if you are in a boat.

How the lobsters laughed..........

Helping You To Help Me

2009-07-04T14:02:00.001+02:00

It's been a long time since I worked on a helpdesk. When I started working in IT a couple of years ago (or so) it was considered to be a good introduction to how a company works.

This is probably quite a sound theory, for the people who came up with the idea, but not for those who have to work on one.

I can only reference what I have experienced - helpdesks for Computer Systems, so if you disagree please call the number below and we will divert you to India.

1) - The customer is not always right - in the majority of cases, they are fucking idiots.
2) - You cannot fix a problem if it is not described correctly
3) - Managers of helpdesk systems are morons who know nothing except how to misjudge their own worth

Anyway, I didn't last very long on the helpdesk because apparently I had an attitude problem.

So fast forward a number of years and having worked in IT for a while, someone, in the infinite wisdom decided that a 'back to basics' approach would benefit all.

Another shit idea - perfectly executed.

"Welcome to the Gothic Helpdesk - what is your current problem?"
'When I logged onto the system at 07:30...'
"No you didn't - your computer came up at 08:12 and you mistyped your password the first time"
'How did you know that? - well, anyway, the things didn't come out of the printer so there is an issue with the system'
"No - everything would have come out of the printer if you had put paper in it, which you didn't and unplugging it and replugging it in again does not make paper grow"
'There was an issue with the printer so I had to reboot it'
"Yeah - a lack of fucking paper issue - with a big flashing message saying NO PAPER you muppet"
'But I checked the manual and it said....'
"What colour is it?"
'The printer?'
"No, the bloody manual"
'I don't know I've never seen it...'

*dial tone*

NEXT

Jesus Jackson

2009-06-27T11:06:00.006+02:00

Not many things could have aroused me from my blogging hibernation - well, nothing has until now.

Michael Jackson is dead.

Sorry Wacko fans but, it was rather inevitable. I am sure there are squillions of people in the world who are really sad - I'm not one of them but, they feel some connection I do not share.

I was watching the coverage of the story on CNN with a Gothic curiosity and was beguiled by the reporters. I particularly liked the one stationed outside the house in Bel Air who said "This street usually has vans with fans (sic) who sleep here but they have all gone now to UCLA " and my first thought was - well what the fuck are you doing there then?

Later, I was watching BBC News and they had an interview with Uri Geller (famous for his bending spoon thing) and a friend of the now dead Jackson.

"So you were good friends with Michael" said the interviewer
"We had our ups and downs - sometimes we didn't even talk" he replied

Not surprised - if you kept fucking his cutlery up.

BUT, the real moment for me was when they started interviewing fans. Some were devastated (don't get it myself but, OK), some were celebrating his life (made a little more sense) but one woman said.........

"This will be remembered as the day Jesus died"

Er - no. You stupid little woman. If base your whole life on fiction the nasty goblins in pointy hats will get you.

However, I must thank Apple for my iPod. For the rest of the year, Michael Jackson will be on high rotation on every radio station. In my ears, I will be listening to Lacuna Coil.

Free Stuff

2009-03-15T05:38:00.004+01:00

Collecting Free Stuff

I'm not really sure where the obsession started, I guess it was in my childish years, but, I like 'free stuff'.

By 'free stuff' I am referring to items that you would normaly have to purchase with money.

A balloon is not 'free stuff' - it's just childish nonsense, unless it's filled with helium and then you can attach it to something (like a cat) because they were not designed to fly.

Getting 'Free Stuff' is not that difficult - companies are giving away pointless shit every day. Pens, T-shirts, umbrellas etc.

Am I going to buy their products/services? Am I fuck - just give me the 'free stuff'.

Once in a while, I give bag fulls of 'free stuff' away to charity. Will they use it? - I doubt it.

Can they use it to twat fish on the head and feed a family for a week? - maybe, if it's a really stupid fish.

The point is, 'free stuff' is good' and, Mr Taxman "you can slide down the razorblade of life, using your bollocks for brakes"

Meanwhile, back in reality :

Cool - look. You can use this laser thingy for

ooooopppsssss

Life In The Movies

2009-01-23T22:09:00.004+01:00

Sorry to any who have been visiting but I've been busier than a carpet cleaner in a porno cinema. Not going to bore you with the details. Here is a quiz someone asked me to do - you should try it if you can be arsed. I did and I laughed out loud at the results. No point cheating - you are only cheating yourself.

So here are the rules:-

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool

Here are mine - scarily accurate by coincidence??

Opening Credits:
If - The Cult

Waking Up:
Shame - Drowning Pool

First Day At School:
Fallin' Up - Black Eyed Peas

Making Your New Best Friend:
Illegal I Song - Velvet Revolver

Falling In Love:
Iron Horse/Born To Lose - Motorhead

Breaking Up:
Replica - Fear Factory

Prom:
Disappear Here - Moonspell

Graduation:
I Guess I'll Never Know - Clawfinger

Life's Okay:
Home - Sevendust

Death of a Close Friend:
Fear Of The Dark (Live at Rock in Rio) - Iron Maiden

Mental Breakdown:
Jumping Someone Else's Train - The Cure

Driving:
Getcha Groove On - Limp Bizkit

Flashback:
Discotheque Wreck - Terrorvision

Getting Back Together:
Stay Away - Nirvana

Wedding Scene:
A Thousand Lies - Machine Head

Birth of Child:
Bleeding Mascara - Atreyu

Car Accident:
Black Dog - Led Zeppelin

Final Battle:
All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me) - Bullet For My Valentine

Death Scene:
Hypnotize - Audioslave

Funeral Song:
Lustmord - Moonspell

End Credits:
Take It Out On Me - Bullet For My Valentine

(tx to Anthony for the idea)

Yikes - Who Shook My Coffin?

2009-01-17T03:25:00.002+01:00

I recall writing things - it's all a bit vague now.

I seem to remember idiots without an ounce of sense complaining that I did't believe in Jesus - King of the Easter Eggs.

Apologies for having read your Book Of Bollocks more than you did.

I recall complaining about the fact that my children - eek - mini-Goths did not understand why

FUCK

I actually remember why I started writing in the first place.

Shit happens

Piss Off Religious Freaks

2008-11-17T23:32:00.006+01:00

Picture the scenario if you will.

One, very tired Goth sits at a bar, chatting to an amiable barman.

It's been a long day for both, for differing reasons, but they agree that puzzles in The Daily Express will suitably vex, and relax them both.

After an hour or so of entertainment - the Goth points out that, in the BIG crossword, the Irish barman should really know the answer to the question:-

9) Old Testament book in which Moses conducts a census of the Israelites (7 letters)

Getting bored, Goth provides the answer.

The barman exclaims "You can't know that"

"Well, I can actually as I've read most religious texts unlike....."

*cue previously un-noticed American to open his mouth*

"It's true - it has been confirmed by my chapter"

*cue - a moment of jaw-dropping silence*

"So you're saying that you looked up an answer, with your coven of religious students, to confirm that I was correct?" asks an incredulous Goth.

"Yes" he replied "We're studying it a chapter at a time"

Being a Zen-like Goth - it was time to walk away.

Didn't want to spoil the ending - that would be in revelations.

Jesus Surfing

2008-11-09T07:48:00.005+01:00

If you read the bible (the free book in hotel rooms in case you run out of toilet paper) you will know that jesus lived by the sea.

Living by the sea is very useful if you want to be a fisher of men, or a fisherman or - more importantly, catch some waves.

Dog, (being an anagram) said to his prototype:-

"I have invented the tree, and it's full of wood and stuff"

His son was busy smoking and talking weird, and growing a beard but remembered his training as 'Son of a Carpenter'

Thus, from the mighty tree, jesus did plane and polish to create - The Surfboard.

Although, a mighty fine idea, young master jesus has no idea HOW to surf.

"I have this really good idea" said JC "might work, might not"

As JC walked across the water, the disciples sat on the beach, stroking their beards.

When his dad created a huge wave of love, JC rode on it and proclaimed

"Yay - hanging ten"

at which point, most of the disciples, being wise, ran away.

When he arrived on the beach, he said to those remaining "I will teach you, and the you can teach others".

And thus they practiced - a lot.

Killed a lot of fish in the process too.

Vote NOW America

2008-11-02T06:36:00.006+01:00

Because you should

I had to bypass some shit, because I am 'Bob The Plumber' thus...

'Y'all have a decision to make'. It might not seem impotent but it is relevant.

Vote now.

You have THE choice Americans.

I know my opinion but, I'm silly enough to have a brain.

Have the fucking decency to turn up and express your opinion.

If you can't be arsed, fine, but don't ask me to listen to your moaning shit later.....

Rocky Horror Picture Show

2008-10-26T21:40:00.001+01:00

I finally got around to buying the DVD of The RHPS and I must say - the water was deep but I swam it, Janet.

It remains the only film I have seen over 100 times. I have also seen the stage show countless times and is the only event that would cause me to wear suspenders and a bra (just like my dear papa).

If you have never experienced it (the show, not the womens underwear thing), the following will make no sense at all.

Why I fell in love with The Rocky Horror Picture Show

In one evening:-

I was asked to go for a date with the most gorgeous Gothic girl but I had to bring a newspaper and some rice (no explanation was given)
I received the most amazing blow job in a public place without warning
I had to run onto the stage and "Do a jump to the left" (which I did as I was still in shock from the oral sex adventure)
I observed lots of strange people being very 'nice' to each other
I crashed the car I had 'borrowed' (not my fault) on the way back home
My life flashed before me (in slow motion) and I wondered why there was rice all over the crash site
I was arrested by the police and charged with various boring legal nonsense
I had to listen to my police-person father lecture me on how I was destroying his career
I told the full story to my mother and she laughed
I had some most excellent dreams

Granted, the next time that I watched the movie, it did not have quite the same effect but, I still grin at "It's just the pelvic thrusts....".

So, the DVD is prepared, the underwear is available, the rice and newspaper ready and the Sword of Damacles is hanging over my head.

*Gothic bliss*

Schools Out Forever (Or Not)

2008-10-24T02:35:00.003+02:00

School is a scary time - although, it gets an awful lot worse when puberty kicks in.

As I have never set out to be popular, it wasn't a huge deal for me - avoiding getting the shit kicked out of me seemed more important than how I looked to other people.

Someone might have a trend-setting haircut but admiring it in a hospital bathroom nursing broken limbs seems a somewhat vacuous choice to me. I was far happier if everyone assumed I was weird and just avoided me.

However, when puberty kicked in and I wanted to test my theoretical education on sex, being the weird outsider was somewhat of a hinderance.

So, I did what I had to - got barred from every computer in the complex and then forged a career in the very same thing (after a brief attempt at being a rock star).

I was however, gutted, when a number of years later, I met the one girl who I would have died for. In casual conversation, reminiscing about the 'school days' I mentioned how much love I thought I had for her at the time.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" she asked with a wistful look in her eye

"Sorry to be so obvious" I replied "But you were the one that all the boys wanted, and some of the girls too. There was no way I was going to ask you anything and have my dreams shattered"

"But I would have said 'Yes' immediately - you were the only one I was interested in"

*Oh for fucks sake - now you mention it...*

Why bring this up now? Because that School Reunion thing is looming and people I haven't seen or heard from for many years are connecting.

I had a brief 'conversation' with someone who asked me if I remembered even meeting her 20+ years ago. She was somewhat shocked when I could recall every detail of the meeting, and exactly what transpired.

I have an excellent memory but, I am male so, by definition, I have a selective memory.

Your turn now - share the pain of education with Dr Goth ;-).......

Too Tired To Fight

2008-10-22T02:46:00.004+02:00

I know I should fight but, I'm weary.
If I give up, then I am perceived as weak.
If I continue I am seen as aggressive.

To paraphrase The Clash :-

Should I stay (quiet and let shit happen when I know it is wrong)
Or should I go (and create havoc)

It's a quandary - if I stay it involves basic multiplication but if I go it invoves Venn diagrams

Tough decision - but before you answer the pseudo question, it's too late.

I have decided to

Faster Food

2008-10-19T08:00:00.006+02:00

As a Goth (and no, I am not the only Goth in the village) - I do not like fast food.

I do not appreciate scary clowns like 'Robert Smith in his pyjamas' trying to force burgers in my face. If I feel the need to eat pulverised - pseudo-meat' with spices between bread, it will not be served by a moron in a costume.

Likewise, I do not appreciate weirdos spitting (on) kebabs or crucifying animals for no reason other than "Their Fat Greeds Welding".

I read a story this week and my initial reaction was 'Fuck off - you cannot be serious'.- but, the story is true and feel free to google it yourself...

A group of 'xxx' decided to create the largest sandwich in the world. To achieve this, they butchered lots of ostriches and tried to create a sandwich 4,900 ft long (approx 1.3 km).

The 'esteemed coucil of idiots' created a new level of pomposity in Tehran, capital of Iran.

The X fuckers were rather surprised when spectators rushed in to devour the food without waiting for the world record to be broken.

Uhhmmm - might be a reason fot that

Mr Gorsky

2008-10-16T21:21:00.004+02:00

When Astronaut Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon, he not only gave his famous "One Small step for Man, One Giant Leap for Mankind" statement but followed it by several remarks (the usual comms traffic between him, the other astronauts and Mission Control)

Just before he re-entered the lander, however, he made the enigmatic remark "Good luck, Mr.Gorsky."

Many people at NASA thought it was a casual remark concerning some rival Soviet Cosmonaut. However, upon checking, there was no Gorsky in either the Russian or American space programs.

Over the years many people questioned Armstrong as to what the "Good luck Mr. Gorsky" statement meant, but Armstrong always just smiled.

On July 5, 1995 in Tampa Bay FL, while answering questions following a speech, a reporter brought up the 26 year old question to Armstrong.

This time he finally responded. Mr.Gorsky had finally died and so Neil Armstrong felt he could answer the question.

When he was a kid, he was playing baseball with a friend in the backyard. His friend hit a fly ball which landed in the front of his neighbor's bedroom windows.

His neighbors were Mr. & Mrs.Gorsky.

As he leaned down to pick up the ball, young Armstrong heard Mrs.Gorsky shouting at Mr.Gorsky.

"Oral sex! You want oral sex?! You'll get oral sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!"

Voodoo Child

2008-10-11T04:18:00.009+02:00

Before any sanctimonious twats start parading their shaven knowledge, it is not called 'Voodoo Chile' - never was. However, the only God to have walked this earth, in a 'guitar-playing' fashion, once created this masterpiece of blues confusion.

Discussing golf is usually a very short conversation with a Goth but, curiosity is an overpowering thing.

*Meanwhile, back at the bar*

Goth and Joliet Jake are arranging where they should meet for the forthcoming concert of ROCK.

JJ says that he is playing golf with his new toy during the day, but mentions 'Voodoo Golf'
Goth asks, what the fuck is that ???
JJ explains that 'Voodoo Golf' is a gift that he received whereby one can stick pins in your opponents effigy, destroying their 'swing' or something
Goth suggests a swift kick in the bollocks is quicker
JJ says that is not sporting but does join in with the improvised lyrics....

"Well, I stand right next to a bunker,
Fucked up as I went in the sand,
yay,
I picked up my little sand wedge,
And wrapped it round the bastards head,
cause I'm a voodoo child
Goth knows I'm an evil child baby"

Several alcohol laden drinks later, Goth asks who JJ is playing golf with.

After diet coke has stopped shooting out of his nose, Goth implores that JJ employs the "Voodoo Golf".

Well, it was a fucking Friday......

***Breaking news - Joliet Jake is changing his name to Punjabi Hendrix - if life is Purple, and Bacardi makes you hazy ***

Stolen But Funny As Fuck

2008-10-05T15:47:00.002+02:00

If the failed 21/7 bombers had just waited three more days, we'd all be calling them the 24/7 bombers. This would imply that they blow things up all day every day and, despite their actual lack of success, make them at least sound like they were good at bombing.

I just saw a van drive by with the company name 'Seafood Solutions'. I must admit, I didn't know seafood was a problem.

It is said that gentlemen prefer blondes. I hope then that lesbians prefer brunettes, otherwise we might have to organise some kind of rota system.

I'm beginning to think there may be something in this climate change after all. Four months ago it was very cold and now it's quite warm.

A woman whose daughter was hospitalised in a US tornado told ITV News that 'God would make her better.' presumably, that's a different God from the one that almost killed her with a tornado.

'She can dish it out, but she cannot take it', I once heard someone say of me. And it's true - I'm a school dinner lady and I'm allergic to mashed potatoes.

I heard on the news that the January storms had cost this country a billion pounds. What an utter waste of money. If anything, they did more harm than good.

I think Sir Paul McCartney should try to put his current predicament into perspective. In olden days, if you were unfortunate enough to be robbed by an omniped, it would almost certainly be a pirate. At least he's going to come out of this alive.

Yesterday I received an e-mail from a bored housewife looking for some action. Eager to please the young lady I sent her my ironing. That should keep her quiet for a while.

This new police knife amnesty is a bloody nightmare. I dutifully handed all my knives in and now I've got nothing to eat my dinner with.

To the zookeeper in 1978 who replied 'I'll tell you when you're older' when I asked him why one of the monkeys stuck its tongue up another one's arse: I'm 36 now and still waiting for that explanation.

I have just returned from a diplomatic trip to the Congo and I can testify that at no point did I see anyone drinking Um Bongo.

I'm a terrorist, and when ID cards come into force I will probably employ great cunning and not declare that as my job. I'll probably say I'm a grocer or something.

Why don't NHS bosses start hiring obsessive compulsives as nurses? Their attention to hygiene and constant hand washing would see an end to MRSA outbreaks in no time.

'Alton Towers - Where the magic never ends', or so the commercial says. Imagine my disappointment when it closed at 7.30.

Fucking Politics

2008-10-04T08:31:00.006+02:00

Being Gothic, one tends to analyse everything to the n'th degree in a somewhat morbid fashion whilst adhering to the concept that the 'new' black is in fact, still black.

'Fucking' in, and of itself, is generally good but if followed by another word can meta morph into something not very good at all.

'Politics' is always bad - like an evil little representation of everything that is corrupt in humanity.

Here follows a train of thought - but - be warned

**you may need drugs to understand this**

Fucking is a word which can describe intense emotions but is usually not associated with grandparents as they didn't have the word fucking and so had to improvise and use the word 'jolly' instead, which doesn't really carry the same gravitas as 'fucking' unless of course you are a jolly weirdo, in which case fucking animals is ok because they can't say no, which only underlines your stupidity as animals can't talk as they don't have the vocal capacity for it, which is why Americans like animals so much, in a somewhat salacious way, and this is good, because the idiots can't read either, as they are too busy trying to figure out how to eat everything they don't understand but that's ok because at least they are not Arab as they would then try to blow the shit up first and then eat it afterwards, which is stupid because if you blew shit up it would make tiny small pieces and then a fork wouldn't work so you would have to use chopsticks, which is Asian and has nothing to do with fucking at all, apart from the Chinese people, who use chopsticks and fuck a lot as there's a squillion of them, but they can't eat soup, ever, as you can't eat soup with chopsticks but you can poke people with the fuck-sticks, and if you're really small, it will hurt bigger people as you will probably poke them in the bollocks which would hurt, unless you 'CHI' kneed them, in which case they would hop around like mental rabbits (Bamboo shoots, but Jackie Chan saves... the day).

Fuck it, I got lost.

So, politics is stuff that isn't really interesting at all, apart from when you are completely mental, in a 'lost the fucking plot' way, where you decide that everyone is evil, apart from the good ones, except that you can't decide who the good ones are, so you just decide that you will fuck everyone up, and then hope that the general populus will vote for you, but if you're in Africa it doesn't really matter because if you have guns and the peasants have nothing but a bag of underpants, which is their house, you can shoot them and pretend that they voted, or America where they also have underpants but they can't count and it doesn't really matter as they have the CIA and they have seen all the James Bondage films and invented everything, ever, apart from noodles, and marmalade, which has bits in it, like a politicians brain, but they're not very nice bits and the bits look nice on TV, which was also invented by Americans after they had seen what a Scottish person had done, but he didn't have a video camera to document how clever he was, but neither do foxes and they had a campaign to ban hunting but, due to a lack of opposable thumbs couldn't make badges, which is really important in politics, or perhaos, they didn't have the mental capacity to reverse a sign, like the Nazis, who reversed a Jewish symbol and then decided that they should burn all the evidennce, in a Hitler-gate sort of way, but they could have discussed stuff in pointless meetings in the Capital Of Europe, like that would have made a difference, and countless people could have struggled to translate bullshit into another language whilst the politicians thought "Coo - I wonder what's for lunch" instead of actually doing something, like Sir Bob Geldof, who saved some people in Africa by saying "Give us your fucking money" but then gave his children stupid names so they could be bullied in school, which is a shit place, school, full of failures of society who strike when stuff is shit, but created the shit world through their ignorance and funnily enough, have a union called NUT which is self-explanatiry I think, but perhaps, I'm not allowed to think, about politics

The Seventh Day

2008-09-28T22:22:00.001+02:00

If you believe in God you might want to stop reading about now - you have been warned.

For those of you still reading - I was polite enough to offer the tossers a choice which is fair, I think.

THE SEVENTH DAY

God created the world in seven days apparently - well, six if you bear in mind that God fucked off on holiday for one, leaving Amateur God to create things without divine guidance.

Being omnipotent has it's drawbacks as you can't actually go on holiday as you are already there - by definition. Therefore God had to go into 'standby' mode leaving the less than competent apprentice to create other things which God hadn't cleared from the list.

Predictibly enough one supposes, Amateur God, fucked things up beyond belief and thus the Seventh Day creations remain.

On Gods return from 'standy-mode' on the eighth day, God looked at what at been invented, put her fingers against her temples and took a very deep breath.

'Jesus Fucking Christ' she opined, unfortunately creating religion as a by-product.

When God truly surveyed the damage on the previously perfect creation, God wept.

However, God was tired of 'multi-tasking' all the time and so could not devote enough God-energy to fixing what had been created, and thought - 'Oh bollocks - let the monkeys run with that planet'.

Amateur God, already banished from the kitchen of life, decided to add a little impetus into the situation and so gave Man a semblance of intelligence. Not a particularly wise idea in retrospect, but Amateur God figured that as God wasn't looking, it wouldn't really count.

Thus, Man came forth and ate the monkeys.

Peace - My Arse

2008-09-27T01:38:00.006+02:00

Apparently, Sir Paul of McCartney played a gig in Israel 43 years after The Beatles were banned for being too dangerous.

Now, whilst I respect that four scousers in suits generally is not a good thing - what the fuck were the 'Fab Four' going to do? Kidnap everyone in a yellow fucking submarine?

Whilst they were burbling on about only needing love, The Stones were rocking with 'Sympathy For The Devil' - I know whose side I'm on.

However, a Goth should not take sides. The two groups were equally shit, or equally good - although, I don't hear many grannies humming 'Paint It Black' - but let's just put that down to no Gothic Grannies.

So, whilst visiting one of the most divisive places on the planet, Sir P of M decides to sing 'Give Peace A Chance'.

Well DUH - they're not fucking listening - still.

Israelis -> "We have been fans for forty years and we are so proud he has chosen our land to play first"

Palestinians -> "We have been fans for forty years and we are so pissed off those bastards got to hear what we couldn't"

Peace? Yeah - my Gothic arse.

Do Not Use Dude

2008-09-20T07:03:00.007+02:00

I cannot believe I got told off for using the term 'dude'.

For fucks sake - I have called people a 'twat' before now and that was not an issue.

However, it appears that from a European perspective, the americans do not like the term 'dude'.

Thus, Mr or Mrs America

Point 4

You invented the 'D' word in the first place

Point 3

I was trying to be polite

Point 2

Grow up mentally

Point 1

Stop reading between the lines - try getting the bigger picture

I am pissed off with your ineptitude, you arrogant bunch of tossers but,
dude
if you want me to fix your fuck-ups again, the helldesk is available on 666.

Of course, that could just be me - but, "feel free to dude what you want, any old time"

American Idiots

2008-09-17T00:08:00.002+02:00

I really don't like dealing with American Idiots (AI - also known as arsehole intelligence). Throughout my years on (and off) the planet, I have encountered many strange people but - to paraphrase Clint Eastwood - "A Goth's got to know his limitations".

Goth should not worry about this - he's not qualified (paid enough) to worry - but Goth does care.

Wednesday - communication that we should talk more with americans - ok

Friday - NO communication about what they were supposedly planning

Saturday - communication from Goth at 3am - "I have a really bad feeling about this"

Sunday - NO communication as AI kick into action

Monday - NOTHING works anymore
Monday - Goth is asking what the fuck they have done
Monday - AI are blaming Goth for not communicating
Monday - Goth is explaining the basic principles of communication
Monday - AI try to cover their tracks by deleting log files that Goth has already sent off network
Monday - Goth fixes the important bits and decides that home is a safer place to be
Monday - Conference calls are arranged but Goth has left the building

Tuesday - AI have found the answer, which is spookily the same as Goth suggested the day before
Tuesday - Goth has to explain what went wrong
Tuesday - AI decide they can fix the other bit
Tuesday - Goth goes out for a cigarette
Tuesday - Network crashes in a wholly predicted way taking out all European operations
Tuesday - Goth suggests ice cream and cakes or anything with sugar
Tuesday - More conference calls are suggested - Goth declines
Tuesday - Goth decides that Jack Daniels is a beautiful friend and leaves
Tuesday - AI fix the final part using exactly the same code Goth suggested

Wednesday - now - Goth is planning a conference call with AI (and it will not be polite)

Talk to the BBC

2008-09-13T01:41:00.008+02:00

Yeah right. They listen to no-one.

Every morning they blether on about texting us this, or e-mailing us that about what is on the news.

"We'll read it out live on TV" says the smarmy presenter.

They bloody do not !!

Thursday - 'Fire in the Channel Tunnel' (in case you didn't know, it's the tunnel under the sea) but the fire is still burning and it's the lead article on

Friday - "The people can't put it out" says silly woman turning to sillier man"No - they can't" replies idiot in a suit "But, here's the weather where you are"

So, I sent them an e-mail - pointless exercise!!

Goth@darness.bat
"Dear BBC, tell fire fighters to drill the ceiling - there's shit loads of water up above them - best regards, Goth"

and then I had to send another one

"Oh btw, tell them to fit a tap - plugging the hole with small Dutch children may not be popular now - lesser regards, Goth'

Response? - Fuck all. So sleep tightly Jean Claude Van Damme - your probing fingers are not required

The Not So Little Book Of Calm

2008-09-09T21:49:00.000+02:00

Those of you that have been reading this page since before the hippy got nailed to the tree, may remember the Good Book.

For the newbies, I'm not talking about the bible and it's bullshit ramblings - I'm talking about

The Little Book Of Calm

I happened across the little rascal whilst searching for something I didn't find but, you really should share the wisdom.

So, randomnly, I selected a page or three and - brace yourselves - here goes.....

Train a Calm Place

Apparently, if you practise being calm on a park bench you can simply go there to be calm.
(Everyone else calls this being homeless but, who am I to argue with wisdom?)

Practise Saying No

Only take on what you can do and then politely turn down other requests
(Well, that explains most of the teenage pregnancies in the UK then)

Think Warm

A cold body is seldom calm
(The dead ones don't seem to wriggle that much)

Obviously, the cynical amongst you may think I made this shit up - I didn't (apart from my opinion in brackets) so feel free to check the lunatic ramblings of a mushroom muncher yourselves.

ISBN 0-140-28526-1

And may it bring you as much calm as Jack Daniels did to me.....

Why I Hate Custom People

2008-09-05T23:41:00.007+02:00

I say people in the loosest definition of the word, and I say HATE in the strongest definition of the word. It's not really that I hate authority - I just don't like idiots with authority or badges or, especially guns.

My first encounter with Customidiocy was on my return from Germany for a school trip. I had discovered you could buy cigarettes anywhere and so had stuffed numerous packs into my suitcase for my return.

On arrival at Customs exercise, 40 or so of us children walked neatly through the Green Channel (Nothing to Declare).

Rather unsurprisingly, I got stopped and the following conversation ensued.

Custom Offal - "Have you read the sign thoroughly?"
Goth - "What sign?"
CO - "Please go back, read the sign and come through the appropriate channel"
Goth - "OK"

*wanders back as supervising teacher develops a migraine*

CO - "Ah - so you have come back through the Red Channel. What do you have to declare?"
Goth - "That I tried the Green one and you stopped me so I thought I'd try this one"
CO - "Let's open your suitcase then"
Goth - "You can if you want but I know what's in it"

*teacher now approaching organisms"

CO - "Less than 200 cigarettes - that's fine then"
Goth - "I know that, I read the sign this time ;-)"

These days, I wouldn't try that shit though. Taking a teacher through customs is far too stressful....

Gothic Samurai Pt 1

2008-08-30T18:06:00.003+02:00

In case you hadn't guessed, I have been on holiday. In order to facillitate actually having a holiday, I have barely touched a computer in 2 whole weeks. I could have but then it wouldn't have been a holiday would it?

To enjoy the feeling of being a person on holiday, I adopted the persona of Katsumoto from The Last Samurai - a rather dignified stance but capable of chopping idiots into small pieces if provoked.

I encountered no issues at airports at all (which is very unusual for a Goth) - even the security people were more than helpful as I stood patiently waiting for the 'muppets with gold coloured shite from Argos' to walk backwards and forwards through security checkpoints.

I remained calm and dignified and presently, the very helpful staff opened another lane and beckoned me forward.

An irate 'bizzy-man' ran in front of me but I stayed where I was until asked to walk forward. As I passed through, without issue, the security guard wished me a good trip and I watched 'bizzy-man' getting escorted into the 'touchy' place behind curtains.

The flight was lovely and we didn't crash into any immovable objects - even gravity was having a day off.

We walked patiently to passport control and proceeded to the luggage carousel. Our bags arrived as we approached.

A smooth trip from the airport to our 'home' for the next two weeks was peaceful and upon arrival we were greeted with genuine affection.

Within minutes of arrival however, a conversation occurred that was to be repeated several times - but that's ok.

Family Member - "My computer is not working"
Goth - "You're probably not using it right then"
FM - "But you can fix it right?"
Goth - "I could, but I'm on holiday"
*walks away and turns briefly to say, in a heavy Japanese accent*
"This was a good conversation"

(Part 1 of 3)

Olympic Bollocks

2008-08-23T07:48:00.005+02:00

I know the Olympic Games have been around for a zillion years or something, since some bloke ran a long way to say "There's *puff* a fucking *puff* fight over *puff* there" but it is rather boring. Don't get me wrong - I applaud the efforts of "My name's Mike and I swim like a fish" Phelps but, come on - it's not like it makes a difference.

Every 4 years, finely tuned athletes get together to run faster, jump higher, lift heavier shit or somehing. I'm sure it is really impotent to them but, I'm a Goth and I don't care.

Thus, I have decided to introduce some new events for the next time the finely-tuned specimens get together. Feel free to suggest some events yourself (and, if you feel the need to criticise - fuck off and find a blog where somewhere cares).

The 20 Metre Sarcasm - stand at a distance and observe how totally crap someone is without vocalising it loud enough to get your head bashed in.

Pissing in the Wind - a long distance event where you demonstrate how pointless it is to do anything really.

The Sexathalon - do that funky, 'making-babies' thing, without the obvious consequences of guilt, child support or dubious contagious diseases, whilst pulling strange faces and announcing your arrival to an invisible god.

Synchronised Pie Eating - try and eat everything that moves before fat Americans scoff the lot - but, in tandem with another person and without blowing chunks all over the place.

Trainspotting - stand still in an anorak whilst observing a train pass by on a track that clearly isn't going to move because that would be silly.

Turbo-Preaching - explain why your chosen religion is superior and everyone else is completely shit in under 10 seconds whilst simutaneously doing all the evil shit you denounce.

Crustacean Tennis - twat small shelled creatures with a racquet whilst imbibing far too much alcohol.

So there you go - it's your turn now to suggest some new Olympic bollocks.

Look Boss - The Plane

2008-08-19T08:44:00.001+02:00

It's that time again - time to get on a plane and fly somewhere other than here. It's relatively cool in that I have already 'checked-in', selected the seats and have transportation at both ends arranged - (why didn't someone think of the internet before it was invented?).

Unfortunately, I still have to deal with certain aspects that I hate when travelling. Namely, muppets who don't understand where they're going, security staff who only want to body-search 'attractive people' - not the fat fuckers who could easily hide a bomb, and families of retards whose sole intention is to impose their infestation of children on other people.

The good side is that I know the airport inside-out (having worked there) and thus will decamp to the business lounge to steal free peanuts etc. whilst attempting to look 'posh' in a really cheap way.

I'm happy that Mariposa will get to see my homeland (for the first time) but slightly anxious that she might think it's totally shit. That's understandable - it's why I don't live there anymore. However, I would like it to be a magical experience for her and thus I shall make an effort to create a Welshy-Disneyland.

So, suitcases packed, work dealt with, we depart. I apologise if I don't respond to your comments (assuming anyone actually reads this drivel) but I cannot 'auto-respond' to them. I had to create one of those for my work e-mail doofer and it reads like this:-

I'm sorry - I am out of the office from 14th August until 1st September.

I may be visting old relatives who will try to advise me on the best way to knit a teapot. If your query does not involve teapots, please contact **************.

Otherwise, I will respond to your mail on my return.

Live Long and Prosper :)

Enjoy my absence as many people will........

Flower Power

2008-08-18T09:57:00.005+02:00

I am not a huge fan of Brussels but, at present, I have to be here. However, I sometimes try and expand my tiny little mind with whatever delicacy they are offering - being the 'Capital of Europe' and all that nonsense.

An annual event that caught my eye, sprung me into action. Unfortunately, it coincided with me being on holiday and thus I couldn't really be arsed to do anything, but, endeavouring to be a nice person, I explained to Her Majesty of Butterflies that I would watch the beginning of the football season and then take her to the flower show.

Here follows the conversation with my friendly Oirish barman which I found somewhat entertaining:-

Goth - "So, I was thinking of taking Mariposa to that huge flower display on the Grand Place"
Barman - "I wouldn't bother if I were you. I went last night and it's rubbish"
Goth - "But I thought it was supposed to be really impressive"
Barman - "Nah - it's just a load of pebbles"
Goth - "So it's not really flowers at all"
Barman - "No - just a load of pebbles on a carpet in a smart design"
Goth - "Did somebody paint these pebbles individually?"
Barman - "No - they just arranged them"
Goth - "So why would they look like flowers?"
Barman - "Because they came off the flowers - you know?!"
Goth - "The pebbles came off the flowers?"
Barman - "Yeah - every flower has pebbles"
*realisation occurs*
Goth - "They're called petals dude"
Barman - "It's still fucking boring"

So, afterwards Mariposa and I visited the pebbles. Well, we are on holiday after all ;-)

Assumption Day

2008-08-15T12:25:00.003+02:00

So, today is Assumption Day - the patron saint of ridiculous notions. It means that if you live in a country where the church (house of stupid ideas) is vaguely popular, you don't have to go to work or anything.

Unfortunately, there's fuck all on TV except a variety of monkeys in cassocks celebrating the fact that the virgin mary got received in heaven (although how they know this is a mystery as there was no CNN then - just a load of blokes with beards writing the shit down afterwards in a rather haphazard fashion).

The definition of assumption in my dictionary is 'assuming; thing assumed; arrogance' and some other burbling shit about some chick having a baby 2,000 years ago without sex, pain or stretch marks.

Now this is blatantly an assumption, but - no pain is good, so I assume it's a good assumption. Which naturally rather leads to the principle that you can have bad assumptions - like it's safe to stand behind an elephant after you've given it a laxative.

As there is no definitive black or white, you must therefore also have other types of assumptions - like slightly twisted assumptions, fucking stupid assumptions or slightly misguided but vaguely believable assumptions.

So, there is my challenge for today - assumption day. What is the stupidest assumption you have ever heard?

Apologies to Goth Cadets

2008-08-12T22:32:00.001+02:00

Sorry, my little Goth Cadets if you have visited the Goth Cave expecting to find some interesting - or even new stuff.

I have been ultra-busy trying to ensure I can have a holiday and not live in a cardboard box afterwards (as that's soggy and shit). In order to achieve this, I have had to do a semblance of that normality type crap - i.e. actually going to work etc.

Granted, some smart-arsed twats might mention that I don't do anything anyway, so what's different - but they know nothing.

After easing myself back behind my 'bat-computer' at work, I have had a lot of people coming to ask to see my shaving cut. Granted, it's fuck-all compared to Johnny G-Had's injury but it's still good for making people puke and generally run away.

When I have finished pretending to work, I have to visit a Physiotherapist (Kine - here in Belgique) and she attempts to prove that you cannot pull my thumb off. It's a fucking stupid idea as I nearly severed it completely, but I assume it is to prove that the superglue they use in the hospitals here works.

Just when I think it can't get any worse, I discover that the week before I depart on holiday, we are getting audited by:-

(Alan) Price - looking for his dancing bear
Waterhouse - checking why their books don't balance on the bear
and (Lee) Cooper - wondering why the jeans don't fit the bear at all.

Well, fucking hoozah !!

Now, for those of you that haven't met me - I am really lovely and not sarcastic at all. In fact, butterflies land on me all the time.

For those that do actually know me, it was probably not a good day for PWC to come looking for their balancing bear. I can, on Mariposas life, declare it was the fastest interview with an Auditor I have ever been present at (I even had to go back to get the free drinks as I forgot at the time).

Probably a good time for a Gothic holiday then.....

Messages From

2008-08-09T00:30:00.007+02:00

Sorry being absent for awhile, I was busy talking to strange people who think that a computer can guess what they think they want it to do.

I got into slight trouble for reacting - no surprise there then.

"You fucked it up you twat, you fix it" is apparently not the thing to say on a helpdesk - or so I learned on my 'back to basics' course.

So, I shut the fuck up and surfed the net, where I found this - (which amused me):-

Decoding Womens Personal Ads

40-ish - 49, and then some
Adventurous - slept with everyone
Athletic - no breasts
Beautiful - Pathological liar
Emotionally secure - on medication
Feminist - Fat
Free Spirit - junkie
Friendship first - former slut
New-age - body hair in wrong places
Old fashioned - no blow jobs
Open-minded - desperate
Outgoing - loud and embarrasing
Professional - bitch
Voluptuous - hugely fat
Wants soul mate - stalker

AHA - In a shit Norwegian band way, I thought - but then I found this....

FOXY LADY: Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4" (used to be 5'6"), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion. Matching white shoes and belt a plus.

LONG-TERM COMMITMENT: Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.

SERENITY NOW: I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.

WINNING SMILE: Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.

BEATLES OR STONES? I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.

MEMORIES: I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.

MINT CONDITION: Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn't in running condition, but walks well.

And thus, I laughed and thought, 'Hoozah Grandparents Gothica - I miss you both'

*raises a glass of JD in salute*

Racist Bastards

2008-08-02T09:47:00.003+02:00

Having had a totally shit week at work - (this wasn't budgie crap on your jacket, it was elephants with diarrhoea - type poo), I decided to go to my local tavern - an Irish Bar - for a drink of whatever would cleanse my soul.

What started as a "I'll be home about 6.30 dear" descended into a "Oh fuck, it's 2 am already" with all the grace of a hippo on skis.

But, it was ok as we were doing that 'male-bonding' thing - where you get as pissed as small animals with no brains and talk complete bollocks for no apparent reason.

In the overall scheme of things, we were happy to have beer and discussed important things like world peace, a piece of the world, World Wrestling, giant pandas etc., and then it started to fall apart.

"Booooo" shouted my Indian brave, when the Irish band had finished another 'song' with no beginning, middle, or end.

"Shut up" I said, to him, not the angry natives gathering around us.

"But it was fucking shit" he announced, quite justifiably.

I assessed the situation and decided that the 'withdrawal method' seemed very appropriate.

Thus, we decamped to a different bar where there was no shit Irish music and the girls had breasts where nature intended them to be. We purchased our drinks and were happy to be merry and other none-Gothic stuff when....

We were joined by someone who couldn't decide which cunt-ry he was from but was determined to impress on us his idea of racial equality.

This was a mistake.

Firstly, I don't care if you are black, white, yellow, green or a slightly obvious shade of orange - if you talk bollocks, you are still a twat.

Secondly, getting into an argument with someone about their colour or ethnicity when you have completely no idea what you're babbling about is not a good plan.

So, I went very quiet - almost silent in fact. The temptation to rip his heart out was almost overpowering but I resisted. My Indian Brother tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully, to explain that this interloper had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

"See - you white people have no idea about repression" announced the 'dead 30 times in my head" person.

I felt the heat rise inside of me, calmed it, and said "It's oppression, moron" and walked away before I did something I would regret.

"Why didn't you react? - he was talking shit" inquired my friend, soon afterwards.

"Because, I can't afford the lawyers that his family can. The only oppression he knows is when his cheque doesn't arrive on time. But anyway, look at the tits on her!!" I said, diverting the conversation long enough for my friends pissed eyes to give up trying to focus.

*Situation suitably diffused, segregated and suitably strange for a Friday*

It's Really, Really Hard

2008-07-30T00:38:00.004+02:00

It really is very hard. I'm not sure how people cope with it at all.

In fact, it becomes so hard that you want to physically explode - or make the person/people you are with explode in a blinding light.

One can try to be a gentle person, but the desire to fuck someone's brains out of their tiny little skull is so, so... tempting.

(Oh, Sex freaks - you might as well fuck off and masturbate somewhere else - no pictures here and, I was talking about idiots you have to deal with in a day to day life, not some menagerie-a-twat with monkeys etc).

*So, now that the 'Google-Freaksters' have pissed off on Kleenex.com - I will continue*

When I can be arsed, I work for a company so huge, we have a building with windows - well, a few of them (some that are locked to stop people committing suicide).

Every day, some people do some stuff and things happen - in a groovy 'happening' way.

Generally, I don't give a toss until they fuck up the computers - then I have to put my cigarette out in someone else's coffee and do something. This is where it gets really hard.

The problem is that the nice people make innocent mistakes. This is because they have never been trained but are the first to get blamed by the posh wankers who run the show. Meanwhile, the chinless wonders talking into their 'Shit-Berries' in airports across the world achieve nothing.

Well, in Goth World it is the same as 'techie-world'.

Check why your 'Shit-Berry' is deleting your CV/Resume. Try to blame some poor secretary for your fuck-ups and your hard drive is wasted. Oh dear, did I...

BWAHAHAHAHA

If, as one of the 'small' people, you made a mistake - just tell the truth and we in Goth World will fix it, even if it takes hours (and enact retribution on the fucker who blamed you, as a 'comp-sprt')

As for sex - it's over-rated . . . . . with me ;-)

Usually, too tired.....

*snores**************

You Silly Little Man

2008-07-28T15:00:00.001+02:00

OK, in retrospect, this was probably not the best phrase to use in an argument but, as I was drifting off with the fairies due to boredom it just leapt out of my mouth, preceded by "Oh do shut up.."

I think Grandma Goth would be proud that I didn't call him a stupid cunt, which was what I thought, and still think.

I know that this phrase will never rank as the best insult I have ever given anyone ever, but it certainly was one of the most unexpected.

How do I know this? Because when liquids shoot out of peoples noses, it is usually a fair indication you have caught them somewhat unprepared. The fact that it created a rant of suitable idiocy merely reinforced my point.

It's a shame really as I was having a particularly lucid daydream where I was crucifying the little twat using pencils. But, you can't always get what you want.

This is why I am not a politician and I am fairly positive that I am not on the Christmas list for 'mini-Hitler' now - like I should care.

Whats In a Name?

2008-07-25T23:24:00.001+02:00

Introducing oneself is always an interesting opening to any conversation - some might even say it was integral. Personally, I don't really give a shit - if people want to know who I am they can ask - I have no intention of wandering around like a lemming looking for a cliff saying "Eh oh, My name is..."

There are two things that triggered this thought process, and thus caused me to have a holiday from my holiday tales.

Firstly, some 'really interesting' person from somewhere I suppose, was being guided by the Vice President of Europe around our building this week. As I strode past on my way out for a cigarette, I was introduced as:-

"And this is....er Goth, and he's erm, scary".

"Yeah, right" I said and continued walking.

I've been introduced as many things before, but I don't recall being called 'scary' before - but I suppose the fact that the VP even knows who I am should mean something?

Secondly, there was an article about people with stupid names. Obviously, there are a lot of fuckwit parents on the planet who like to give their children stupid names to ensure they get the shit kicked out of them at school.

You have the downright nutty ones like Frank Zappa (kids named Dweezil and Moon Unit), the 'off my chopski' ones like Paula Yates (Peach and Fifi Trixabelle) and the just plain stupid like Dead-Hotel-Bloke Hilton (why call her Paris, when Bangkok is far more apt?).

Then you have people with surnames which are legitimate but the choice of first name is either callous or fucking idiotic.

So, my new competition is for the most idiotic combination of names (that can be found on Google) with first prize being a crucifixtion for the parents of my choosing.

And none of that choosing 'porno names' bullshit like Ben Dover, Cupid Stunt or Clit Eastwood.

Holiday Part 2 - A Celtic Connection

2008-07-22T23:50:00.000+02:00

The thing about spending time with my grandmother was that she was also from a Celtic background. She loved nature and spreading her knowledge of it, which my little brother and I lapped up.

Take for example the 'Story of Tiny'.

Tiny was a small lamb who was born prematurely and was destined to die. My grandfather announced, rather gruffly that it was a case of natural selection and he had to concentrate on the lambs that would survive.

"Oh fiddlesticks" announced my grandmother and scooped the helpless lamb up in her frock.

My brother and I followed as she marched back to the cottage and promptly put the lamb in the Aga oven. We burst into tears and declared that we didn't want to eat the lamb - we didn't even like lamb.

"Shush" she said soothingly "Help me prepare the milk"

After a few minutes, she took the miniscule lamb out of the oven, now suitably warm, wrapped it in a blanket and started to feed it with a baby bottle filled with warm milk. After a short while, it fell asleep, as did we on the floor of the scullery.

The next morning, we were allowed to feed the lamb, now called Tiny and he became like a pet sheep. If he did poo in the house, I'm sure grandma cleaned it up and claimed he was house-trained to my grandfather.

Many years later, I was to do exactly the same thing with a small duckling who I called Wayne. Why did I call him Wayne? I have completely no idea but I do know that the love of nature passed onto me, in a Celtic way, stayed with me and remains forever.

Holidays As They Should Be

2008-07-18T22:44:00.001+02:00

Holidays, or vacations as the 'other people' like to call them, are not what they used to be.

When I grew up, we were so poor we couldn't have holidays as people class them now. My younger brother and I were fortunate enough to survive a 7-hour journey to spend a week with our grandparents. It wasn't that they lived thousands of miles away, transport was just so shit then, it took 3 hours to travel 100 miles.

We were so agitated on the journey that we spent the entire time repeating "Are we there yet?" until we fell asleep. Not because we were bored but because we were anxious to be there. However, when we finally arrived - we were so excited we couldn't sleep.

After our parents had dumped us there and gone somewhere else to practice making babies or something, we would spend days hunting for other stuff we had never seen.

Grandpa Goth taught us how to make bows and arrows from trees with penknives. He taught us how to hunt things, and afterwards Grandma Goth taught us how to fix the poor animals we had inadvertedly speared but not killed.

It was a holiday because we came back better people than when we went and with a different view on life. We learned things we could never hope to attain where we lived for the other 50 weeks of the year.

If it rained, we got wet. We ate what was given to us and didn't ask for a free gift. We didn't need money as there was nothing we needed to buy.

And, before some smart-arse comments, yes I know how many weeks are in a year - but I haven't explained what occurred during week 2 of the holiday.......

Awards Ceremony

2008-07-17T05:25:00.011+02:00

I don't normally accept awards as I am far too busy being Gothic to give a fuck about them. However, as Mr Farty, who is Scottish but likeable none the less, nominated me for the awardy thingy, I thought I would accept.

Rather unsurprisingly, I did not come first - we Goths have some principles we like to uphold.

Although, I usually prefer to come in position 69, I think number 3 was ok on the list. Number 1 was taken by a set of speakers, with an admirable tone. Number 2 was taken by my Prince Of Sarcasm and I followed, pushing the chair.

Apparently, there were another 2 bloggers after us but, as they were 'runners-up' - the Prince (formerly known as squiggle) told me to ignore them.

Here is a picture of me wheeling Prince to pick up his award - I'm the pushy bastard at the back.

Part of this 'Oscar, who lives in a trash can' thing is to nominate 5 other blogs who deserve such an award. I really had to think about this one as I have to say why I read their blogs. I could bullshit and give you some inane crap like a true award speech but, let's be honest... no, really, let's be honest...

1) Honey - Because she scares the shit out of me with her honesty and I know her in real life. She is one of the most beautiful people to have graced the planet and yes, I did think seriously about kicking the living shit out of her erstwhile partner.

2) Lady Daphne - My Matron of the nursing profession. She brought me Jelly Babies on the day after I scraped my arm. For that alone, she deserves an award but, her blog is inventive and invective at the same time.

3) Joilet Jake - for taking over my position of talking more bollocks in one post than any bufoon can. I also want to ensure that his visitor numbers increase so that he posts more often and thus stops listening to shit music, or eating cheese sandwiches in hotels when he could have curry.

4) Big Titticus - aka (.)(.) - because I want her as my bedtime nurse. I'm not sure I would survive a night but, what a way to go. She might be as mad as a bag of squirrels but at least she's honest.

5) My Suicidal American Buddy - I admire him when he writes whilst pissed as a cunt - but I wouldn't want to be within 100 miles. Also, I'd like to teach him how to drink properly - i.e. without the 'blowing chunks' thing. Drinking properly is an acquired art that requires practice.

This completes my list - if you're not on it - tough shit - you're missing nothing. If you're on it, you can adhere to the rules, posted on Mr Farty's nomination or not. Really, I don't give a shit - but they call that Gothipation or something.....

Oh, nearly forgot, I have to include a link to the award site - well, here it is.... find it if you can (easy if you look at the code)

Not Bored Really

2008-07-16T11:45:00.001+02:00

So, having returned to work, I found myself ploughing through a zillion e-mails. Whilst my original plan to 'select all' and then delete the bastards, it would be typical that I missed an important one like:-

Dear Goth, congratulations you have won new bionic arms or
Dear Goth, my name is Claudia Schiffer and I would like to sit on your face....

Obviously, I received neither, but as I was scrolling through them, my mind started to wander. I wondered what I would call my band if I was a hedgehog. A few that I came up with were:-

Hedgehog Death Cult
Deep Hedgehog
My Chemical Hedgehog
Hedgehogs Of Mercy
Red Hot Chilli Hedgehogs

Then I went for a cigarette and lost my train of thought. When I sat back down at my computer, one of those annoying American bossy muppets turned up and I inadvertedly blurted out -

"Fuck off pal, we don't have any oil here so go home".

He didn't take my subtle hint so I just ignored him. It was then I remembered something Mr Farty had mentioned in a comment, so I went to look at what he was talking about which was bound to be more interesting.

Well, bugger me backwards with a pitchfork. He has nominated me for some awardy thingy. Normally, I don't give a flying fuck about these sort of things but as it is The Fartmaster himself, I figured I'd do him the courtesy of acknowledging it. More about this tomorrow though......

Oh Shit - It Broke

2008-07-14T23:40:00.004+02:00

I used to say that a lot when I was a baby Goth - well, mainly when I had caused some form of destruction to my toys, my brothers toys or later, any mechanical device belonging to my parents.

I think maybe, it's an automatic thing to say when you accidentally destroy something.

Now, when my arm when through the square window, I didn't mention anything at the time - it was an accident and shit happens. But, it happened and I have moaned about the scratch on my arm a little too often. It really doesn't matter - nothing fell off or anything.

Anyway, today was the day when the bandages came off and I could wash my hair again. Once again, I could smell like I had been dunked in a vat of peach wine.

Well, hoozah and hoorah - I could finally say goodbye to the lovely Dr Frankenstein and her Ether washes. She gently removed the final strips with a violent tug and in theory I could return to abnormal life.

"What's wrong with your other hand?" she asked, far too suspiciously for my liking.
"Nothing" I replied "It was just feeling a little lonely, and lumpy from when I sat on it"
"When did you sit on it?" she asked
"Erm.... roughly about the time I fainted, give or take a little gravitational effect and tried to break my fall" I replied honestly

*the conversation speeded up at this point*

"So, why didn't you show me before?"
"Because you were busy dealing with the one that hurt more"
"X-ray now !" she demanded and off I skulked to see Dr Bones and his magical mystery machine

*20 minutes later*

"You do know this is a huge operation now?" she spat, like a woman I had lied to
"It's not" I said, trying to think how little it hurt
"Look at the fucking X-ray - it's completely broken - you're going to be off work for 6 months with this"
"Your English is improving" I said, trying to assess my escape routes
"Anyway, I'm not - cos I'm not getting it fixed" I winced and wandered out with as much dignity as I could muster.

Outside, I lit a cigarette gingerely and it was my turn now to say - oh shit, it broke.....

Vacation 2 - Security

2008-07-12T02:18:00.007+02:00

So, having braved the ignomy of the check-in from hell, it is now time to wobble off in the direction of passport control and then security.

Passport control is simplistically a queue for idiots. 'Grockles' - or holidaymakers as they are sometimes known, join the biggest queue. I'm not sure if they think there's some free stuff and therefore, that's why there is a queue, but if they do, all they can expect is a 'long wait'.

Security is quite another kettle of fish. To start with, Mr and Mrs Ugly don't understand the concept of a metal detector. It would probably be better named 'Mental Detector'.

Please remove all metallic objects before attempting to pass through the detector - says the message, in a myriad of languages.

"I can't take this off" says Mr Tattoo, pointing at his watch, whilst looking like a piece of Blu-tac that's fallen into a slot machine.

Rather unsuprisingly, the alarms go off and so piece by piece, he walks backwards and forwards removing one item at a time until he finally passes the metal detector - to be strip searched by a security guard looking to see if he has tried to smuggle one brain cell through.

Meanwhile, the other half of this ludicrous 'double-act' is standing there, like a dumbstruck baboon, marvelling at his stupidity whilst the smaller contingent of the Ape-Tribe from hell are busy shoving pencils up each others noses.

Her smug grin soon disappears when she realises that she too has to take off the 'Terrys All Gold' she bought at the duty-free.

Some time later, it's my turn to pass through and the guards are perturbed by the fact that I have everything metallic in my jacket pocket, my laptop is out and ready for inspection.

"Can you come with me please Sir" asks Hitler Junior.
I comply and then he wants to know why I am wriggling as he attempts to search me.
"Stop fucking tickling me then" I observe.

Many years ago, I took the mini-Goths on holiday which was their first time dealing with airport rules. As I was used to travelling regularly, I had a routine which, my mini-Goths observed and followed.

Everything went onto the conveyor belt to go through the X-ray machine. Dilligently, the minature ones copied what I did and finally, put their bags of 'Pick and Mix' sweets on the belt.

"It's ok son" said the security guard "you can keep hold of this bag"

"Thanks" replied mini-Goth, sweetly "It's ok you know, there's no drugs in this one!"

Vacation Time

2008-07-10T21:55:00.001+02:00

Yes, it's that time of the year when 'normal people' go on vacation. At times like this, I am so glad I'm a Goth and not a 'normal person'. Granted the weather here is pretty shit at the moment, but it keeps the idiots off the streets.

I've never really felt the need to go on a NP (normal person) holiday. What the muppets don't seem to understand is that changing the location does not change the person. Wherever, you go on holiday, you always have to take yourself.

So, millions of moronic idiots will take over the airports attempting to prove that their little tribe of bastards can be noisier than those next to them. Suitcases that have been packed to explosive capacity with pointless shit, will squash small children at the airports. Grumpy fathers in day-glo shorts will drink themselves silly whilst their partners will attempt to save money by spending more of it on useless shite from the duty-free shop.

Meanwhile, the people who travel on a regular basis will at last realise what business lounges were invented for. Granted the free drinks and food are nice, but the ability to distance yourself from Mr and Mrs Tattoo and their lard-arse sprogs is pure heaven.

All this, and I have only described the airport so far - tomorrow, will be the flight from hell.

I would apologise to the family from hell, but their reading capabilities are as limited as their capacity to speak any language - even the only one they are supposed to know.

So what are your airport nightmares in this, the silliest of travel season???

Annoying Cow-Workers

2008-07-08T12:34:00.001+02:00

Everybody has them - those annoying little twats that can make your working day a misery. Just because they are useless at their job / relationships / general ability to be a nice person doesn't mean they should bring their little cloud of misery over everyone else.

I have discovered that since my enforced abscence, some twit who was always complaining that I did nothing has had to take on some of my responsibilities. Now said twit is fucking whingeing that it is an impossible amount of work to do.

Ha - laughed like a fucking hyena I did. Of course it looks like nothing when I do it you myopic retard - that's because I'm very good at what I do and just make it look easy.

So, I figured I would compile a list of most annoying things cow-workers have done or said to you. Fire away, I'm listening.......

In the meantime, a joke.

A chimp and a hyena are having a chat in the jungle. The hyena is complaining that every single day, at the same time, a lion ambushes him and kicks the crap out of him.

"I can help" says the chimp "I'm a black belt in karate. Today, I'll come with you and when the lion arrives I'll kick his ass".

The hyena is very grateful and so together they walk down the jungle path.

The lion jumps out, starts pummeling the hyena and the chimp just runs up the nearest tree.

When the lion has left, the chimp comes back down the tree and walks over to the bloodied hyena.

"I thought you said you were going to help" exclaims the battered hyena.

"I was" replies the chimp "But you were laughing so much I thought you were winning".

*taps finger whilst waiting for annoying cow-worker quotes / actions*

Through The Square Window

2008-07-05T16:40:00.002+02:00

I would imagine, only readers from the yUK and of a certain age will recall the TV programme where that phrase came from. It was a kids show called Play School which was popular with very young children and college students who were drunk and/or copletely off their chops on drugs.

At one point in the show, they would announce that they were going through a window - a bit like a drunken englishman in a pub in Glasgow.

However, as the weather is typically Belgian (i.e. shit, again) today, there are no fat chicks getting arrested, no gorgeous women in skimpy clothes to look at - just a lot of water falling from the sky.

TV is not much better. There's a tennis match where some Amazonian woman is playing against a gorilla in a dress, some cycling doofer where a load of puffs in silly shorts skoot around France trying not to fall off - and that's about it really.

Which brings me back to childrens TV which used to be really good. I remember quite clearly some of the programmes. Some of my favourites included;-

The Magic Roundabout - where a bunch of strange puppets did something or other. I remember Dylan, the permanently 'high' rabbit who used to wander round saying "Groovy" a lot and a hyperactive puppet called Zebedee but I suppose you would get slightly active if someone shoved a giant spring up your arse.

Mary, Mungo and Midge - a bizarre tale of a six year old girl who lived in a high rise block with a talking dog and a equally vociferous mouse. All I can recall is that the mouse had to stand on the dogs nose to press the button for the lift.

Pipkins - a variety of strange animals including Hartley Hare, Octavia the Ostrich and a bizarre monkey called Tossoff the Monkey - I think Michael Jackson saw that one.

It all went downhill when the yUK started importingSesame Street. I mean how are a mouse and dog supposed to compete with a highly strung 8 foot tall yellow bird, a grumpy monster who lives in a trash can or a Cookie Monster? That's even before you got around to the class act that is Bert & Ernie or the Count (who loves to count).

Anyway, what was your favourite kids TV programme?

Oh, and there's a vote on the right. Pick your favourite character from Sesame Street and I will write a post in a Gothic version of the winning selection.

The Goth And The Pea Or Something

2008-07-03T14:22:00.001+02:00

Since my somewhat idiotic accident, I have been cursed with only being able to sleep in one position (and no, it's not upside down in a fucking coffin).

Due to my delicate nature, I can only rest whilst lying on my side with my injured Gothic limb, slightly extended. I would imagine, it makes me look like half of a Village Person doing a semaphore version of (YM-ISTS - Y must I sing this shit).

Now I'm not sure if it's the painkillers that are ceasing to work but, for the last 3 days I can only manage 3 hour spurts. That might be impressive if I was a porn star but I'm not and, I was talking about sleep anyway.

For whatever bizarre reason (or punishment) it is my supposed good side that's causing the issue. After a few hours, it starts to feel like I am sleeping on a bed of nails. I have to get up and watch shit TV for an hour or so before I can lie down again.

I recall some fairy tale where they checked the authenticity of a princess by placing a pea under a mattress. Well Mr Birds Eye - guess fucking what? I don't want to be a bloody princess so stop pissing about with your peas or whatever frozen wares it is you are invading my nightmares with.

Being positive, which isn't always that easy for a Goth - shit TV in Belgique really does cater for the mentally retarded. They have this 'programme/advert/pervert fest' which features naked women doing a variety of bizarre things along with numbers you can call to speak to them.

As per the yUK (sic), they have a really small message (in English) at the end explaining how much per minute this wank-fest will cost. However, what they also have, in even smaller letters after that, is another message (in French) proclaiming - 'These characters are all fictitious and you cannot meet them in person'.

Realistically, I don't think that Johnny Kleenex - international wanker, can actually read anyway.

As for me - I'm too busy wondering about who 'pea'd' the bed to care about what Lolita is doing with that banana again.

Educating Reet Duh

2008-07-02T22:58:00.006+02:00

Firstly, let me point out that 'reet' is a very Northern UK way of prouncing the word right - as in the phrase 'Yee a reet love?'. I'm not terribly au fait with particular northern dialects although I do understand most of them.

Anyway, as I am stuck in my little crystal cage at the moment, I have to find some entertainment via the windows of the apartment. Tomorrow, this will change as Lena's recommendation, Carnivale has arrived.

Today though, I was tempted to educate the stupid 'women' I observed via the window.

Thus, my suggestions for 'the brain the size of a peanut gang':-

Point 1 - trying to run away from the police when you are fat is not a clever idea. When was the last time you saw a sofa with legs win an Olympic medal?
Point 2 - attempting to throw drugs into a hedge doesn't work if you leave them in the packet, moron
Point 3 - concealing an eight inch screwdriver in your bra does not really transmit a feeling of an innocent bystander looking for a furniture shop
Point 4 - whilst you may be able to dismantle a wardrobe with your screwdriver, you could have just sat on the bastard thing
Point 4a - the police have guns which are far more effective at stopping idiotic elephants

Unsurprisingly, 'lard-arse' and her equally inept accomplice were arrested and, once the police were able to find a big enough vehicle, carted off to jail (probably a very big one).

Looking on the bright side, at least I had some entertainment.

Incidentally, before any pompous twat starts criticising, I have nothing against fat people. I just don't like fucking idiots - whatever their size.....

A Shot In The Arse

2008-06-30T07:41:00.002+02:00

Oh yes, it's 'horse-pickle' time again. Once again I have to venture back to the place where weirdos patrol the corridors armed with grapes.

Today, Doctor Who-gives-a-fuck will be changing my bandages, cleaning my wounds and generally causing me pain, again. I know it is a requirement, and I know it is her job but, that doesn't make it hurt less.

At some point, I will have to point out that my other hand is slightly fucked too. Previously, I have skillfully been hiding it behind my back hoping they wouldn't notice - shit worked so far.

I know I shouldn't complain but it's my blog and I can write what I fucking want to.

I am grateful to my friends - the ones that took time out of their busy schedules to see me and bring Jelly Babies etc. As for the others, I will be thinking of you when Dr Frank'n'furter jabs me in the arse with a needle.

In other news, I made a few phone calls. I was bored, I was doped up and feeling shit.

Mrs ex-Goth declared that I should not phone her again unless I had won the lottery. OK. I can do that.

"Hi, I'm in Jamaica now and you get fuck all - I've given it all away to 3-legged cats"

*falls off chair laughing*

OUCH

Two Gay Blokes And

2008-06-29T12:32:00.006+02:00

The night before my latest accident, I was enjoying a cerveca in my usual hostelry when my two favourite gay people came to talk to me.

For indecencies sake, I will call them George and Michael.

Michael came over first to ask how my recent golfing escapade had transpired. I explained how I was attempting to teach Mariposa to play golf without my predeliction to twat the fuck out of the chinless cunts that proliferate that environment.

"I still can't believe that Goths play golf he said
"Oh we do" I replied "But only at night"
"That is so funny" he responded honestly "But I have to go to this cocktail party tonight, and I don't want to go
"So don't" I opined "If I don't want to do something, I don't"
"I wish I could be that strong but I have to go"

I bade him farewell and gave him a piece of Gothic darkness to take with him, as a bullshit shield.

Awhile later, George beckoned me over and insisted that I meet his 'crew' of American de-constructors. They seemed a harmless, if dim-witted bunch of renegades. The men were scary, the women scarier but I assume they were a 'tag-team'.

One in particular, caught my imagination - I'll call him Cleetus for now.

Cleetus spoke in a rapid-fire southern 'drawl' that made me think of Deliverance. The only way I can describe it is ..... well, if you imagine Forrest Gump on Acid, you might be close.

I can understand English, Welsh, German, French, Dutch, Portuguese, Italian, Greek and obviously Spanish. Cleetus was speaking none of these.

I will attempt to recreate part of the conversation, after which it will be somewhat self explanatory.

"So, you're from America I assume?"
"Dang right I am Sir, Ize from the united states of ....
*interruption as someone says 'Hola Goth, que tal?' - 'Muy bien amigo, a luego'*
"Holy cow - you understood what he was ....
"Sorry dude - you were saying?"
"No-one here seems to hear what I'm saying
"Well, if you slowed down your speech and enuciated more"
"My teacher said that but she was just plain stoopid"
"She was if she thought that she could make a difference"
"My grandaddy grew up on a farm and he said there wasn't one damn animal he hadn't tried it with at least once"

*alarm bells*

"Oh gosh, is that the time? I must go and do something"

George then asked if I really had to leave. Funnily enough, I was quite certain that I did.

One Finger Is Enough

2008-06-26T23:59:00.000+02:00

Said the actress to the bishop - as opposed to the nuns who prefer Kit Kats.

Thankfully, though, one finger is quite enough at the moment. Granted it has crippled my typing ability and I now sit at a keyboard like ET, tapping away with one finger but I can still type stuff which is nice, as otherwise I would be bored.

One finger is enough to crack the ring pull on a can of beer - although I then have to sit there with a straw like some alcholic Stephen Hawking creating my new book, a Brief History Of Beer.

The mobile phone is also not an issue due to the funky little speaker phone on it which means I can leave the phone on the coffee table and still talk bollocks to anyone I want.

BUT, the most important use for that one finger, is for The Doofer (some call it the remote control).

When I eventually shuffle from the bedroom to the front room, taking care not to glance my still injured limbs on any passing, stationery objects, I can switch on TV. Daytime TV though - and what a crock of shit that is.

First, it's programs about turning your useless crap into money via car boot sales, or auctions or some other inane fashion.

After a soothing bout of shouting "Well don't buy the fucking shit in the first place" the finger does it's work - OFF.

Then I get bored and have to switch TV back on - now it's some morons who want to buy a bigger better house so the lazy twats get some presenters to find them 3 houses. Every one is better than the bloody hovel they live in but, they say

"ooo, the kitchens not very big"
"It's bigger than your whole house you fucking dickweed" - 'finger-time' - OFF.

Roll on this afternoon - then it's MacGyver. Easy watching. He will defeat the entire Russian Army armed only with a penknife. Fucker should join the Swiss Army - he could show them a thing or two.

Are there any good programs on daytime TV???

Spastic Goth

2008-06-22T04:20:00.003+02:00

I was busy doing nothing, isn't it just a crime when - oops vicar, I created a small problem.

I say 'small' but apparently, severing an artery is actually quite a big problem. I know this because spurting blood everywhere completely fucks up the decor.

Mariposa sprinted to the bathroom to get a bandage and called an ambulance. When she returned, several seconds later, the floor was already covered in Gothic blood.

I tried to remain calm whilst applyiing a tourniquet but no sooner had I done that when - I hit the floor with a resounding THWACK. I presume that's what the sound of a human skull meeting tiles at reasonable velocity sounds like.

I sort of remember travelling in the ambulance to hospital - but it's all a little fuzzy really. What I do remember is being taken into surgery immediately - which is not a good sign - there were people there already in a queue for fucks sake.

Many injections later, and with some skilled sewing by Dr Bob, I looked like half a Gothic Mummy. At this point, I had lost 2 pints of blood - and a little bit more means you are empty and apparently that's not very good.

For several hours, I sat/lay there like a spastic monkey whilst they ran various tests. Finally I said:-

"Can I go home now?"
"Why?" - was the response
"Because it's so fucking boring and I have to clean the kitchen"
"You won't be doing anything for at least 2 weeks" came the reply
"But I need to go for a poo" I said
"You can go here" said the angel pretending to be a nurse
"I still want to go home afterwards" I said, wobbling toward the toilet.

It's somewhat amazing how difficult the simplest things become when you only have one arm. Ten minutes later, I emerged from the toilet.

"Wow - you really did need to go" said the nurse
"Yes" I replied "But I spent 9 minutes trying to do my bastard pants up"

So, home I eventually went. I didn't manage to clean the kitchen - boo hiss. I had to sit on the sofa like a fucking retard.

Looking on the bright side, if I did have a desire to masturbate, by the time I got my fucking pants off, the desire would have receded.

So, things to with one hand?????

What A Fucking Week

2008-06-21T01:51:00.006+02:00

Every time I think I have turned a corner in my life, some sadistic bastard has coated the corner with olive oil or another somewhat slippery substance.

Then people question why I don't believe in a god ?!

I'm guessing that is the assinine percentage of the population - or, perhaps they assume the fat twat is as sarcastic as I can be.

The difference being I would not be such a cunt all the time.

So, my week consisted of:-

Dealing with morons
No fucker delivering what they had promised
People making crap excuses for their behaviour
Shit weather - i.e. that rain type stuff
Wanting to rip the throat out of ....
Shitheads having convienient 'sick days'

Apart from that, it was fucking toss (in a generally wanky way, but I did resist the temptation to kick the crap out of everyone).

It's Karma - Do good things and .......

And no, I haven't forgotten the challenge from my buddy John B Goodshite (and if you haven't read his site - you should).

JG -> I will create a post after I have purchased a Samurai sword - or 3

And, I almost lost my virginity - HOOZAH

I Demand

2008-06-18T04:15:00.005+02:00

Never a particularly good starting point for a conversation with a Goth. With me in particular, an opening gambit of "I demand...." is invariably followed by a response of "I demand that you fuck off".

It's a bit like that stupid film Kramer vs Kramer - which I've never seen but I believe involves a couple fighting over their sprog.

Apparently, she says "I demand custody" and so he says "So, I demand custody", thus she kicks him in the bollocks, so she kicks her in the twat, and it continues until everyone is crying and some fucker walks off with poor Oscar - metaphorically of course.

At the moment, I'm feeling particularly vulnerable, which means I am very wary of being truly 'arse-invaded' by americans at any time. They are a particularly good species at that - the 'arse-invading' bit (which they call ass-invading - ASS being actually a form of donkey, ergo bestiality) not the vulnerability.

Por ejemplo - They like to give a small country weapons and then go and kick the shit out of them for having weapons - especially if there is some oil lurking about somewhere (see the Bill Hicks speech for that).

Anyway, currently, I have the power to delete the fuck out of their fat arses. I didn't choose it - they chose to endow me with that power, in their infinite lack of wisdom.

Hoo-fucking-rah !

Well, the thing is, I am NOT going to abuse the power. I don't need to see a therapist - I just have more important things to do.

However, any "I demand"s are shortly followed by a somewhat inexplicable total loss of power for said arsey individual.

Of course, I dare say that if you were in Goths position, you might demand something else.

Assuming you had the ability to demand anything, what would it be?? (and the first fucker to say world peace will get deleted immediately) but, fire away....

Twatting Posh People

2008-06-15T10:22:00.003+02:00

I so enjoyed my litle Gothic adventure into the land of 'weirdos with more money than sense' that I intend to go back for some more.

Last time, I tried to be somewhat polite which was a mistake - I think - in retrospect.

I was reprimanded for wearing jeans. It was somewhat negligent of me as I didn't know you had to dress like a cunt.

I was aware that dressing like 'Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch' was cool but, I didn't realise they were inter-bred retards with the intelligence of prawns.

I wanted to comment but, being 'nice' and in the company of a beautiful lady, I tastefully swallowed their bullshit and followed the ethos.

HA HA

Today, will be a testament to damage limitation. I will return to 'in-bred fest' wearing jeans, and my somewhat prophetic Marilyn Manson shirt which proclaims

WHEN I'M GOD, EVERYONE DIES

Headline - "Mad Goth with bats - twats lots of stupid people"

Don't you just love golf?

Bye By,Gothy

2008-06-14T07:05:00.004+02:00

Giving up

Goth World will be be more

Thanks to everyone

Toodle Bat

Goth Opera

2008-06-11T01:31:00.004+02:00

As you may or may not have gathered, I'm not a huge fan of lard-arse twats in stupid outfits singing complete bollocks - i.e. Opera.

My taste in music is erratic, eclectic even, but invariably involves bands that can actually play what they are supposed to.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that one of my favourite bands were playing right here in the 'Costa Miserable'. Not only that but they were intending to play their seminal album (no, I'm not linking to the word - go look it up you lazy bastards).

So having secured two tickets, I eventually arrived at the venue with my bodyguard - he's not a black belt but he has a very good tan - which is always helpful in a 'line-up' for the usual immigrants.

It was rather a good concert - in an understated way. To put it more bluntly - it fucking rocked. It was like opera but better, and after the first song we debated whether the lead singer could keep the quality and intensity of his vocals for 30 minutes. He managed over 3 hours including 3 encores.

It has to rate as one of the best concerts I have seen - visually stunning, musically tremendous and in a venue that did not require twatty little binoculars.

Thankyou very much Queensryche for a most enjoyable evening.

AND - yes, I did buy the fucking T-Shirt

Golf - My Fucking Arse

2008-06-08T09:59:00.003+02:00

I should do this post in the style of my buddy Jonny Gihad, but I'm feeling far too sarcastic for that. Incidentally, you should read his response to the challenge I threw in his face (like a damp floorcloth) ) it's really quite good apart from the fascination about ONE particular actor.

Anyway - back to golf. A stupid game, played by perverts in costumes !!

Apparently, the theory is that you twat a ball with a stick and then talk bollocks whilst attempting to find the ball that you twatted.

Meanwhile, you have the oppprtunity to dress like a cunt. (Huggy from Starsky and Hutch is a role model).

I have the sticks (bag full of the bastard things), but I am not going on Pubic Transport with them - that would be far too hairy.

However, in theory, my Punjabi soul-mate is taking me to a big lawn, puntuated by holes, today.

This however has 3 pre-requisites:

1 - Hindi-boy remembers anything - (which I believe to be unlikely)
2 - His new car has not been stolen by 'scousers' - (I think the Germans are front of the queue)
3 - We have the cojones - (balls I have - they're not 'special' but at least I know where they're going)

I did play golf once before with my little brother (he's not little, he always carries a gun, and he has serious issues with anger management)

Oh we laughed - well I did. It was funny - to see grown men pissing their pants.

She Sucked - Well, No More

2008-06-04T05:31:00.011+02:00

Stupid bloody idea anyway. Who in their right mind would want to have anything sucked? That's just plain silly.

However, I got a call today informing me that she was not sucking anymore. Now, in itself that isn't really an issue but, if you are a vacuum cleaner - that's pretty shit as it's the only thing you have to do.

Just buy a new one - I thought, and apparently vocalised said thoughts, but then... It reminded me of a true story several years ago, in the UK.

'Kirby' cleaners were incredibly expensive - i.e. over a thousand squids. The sales-bastards were tenacious little rascals, cultivated from the most desperate areas of society.

Their sales 'pitch' involved sprinkling a small amount of water onto a bed sheet and explaining that everyone perspired whilst they slept. They would then apply the industrial strength suction unit to the sheet, sucking up dirt through the mattress to create a dirty ring on the sheet.

"This is what you sleep in every night" - the salesman would announce to his horrified prospective client.

On one particular occassion, the sales patter didn't work and the salesman announced he would return the following day at 11am to secure the sale/deal.

The following day, walking up the path, he saw the curtains twitch but whilst ringing the doorbell for 5 minutes, he got no response.

He pretended to walk away but, went around the back of the house and seeing a window open, climbed in.

As he carefully padded into the front room, he observed the terrified couple hiding behind the sofa occassionally trying to see if the salesman from hell had departed (not knowing he was behind them).

In a thunderous voice, he announced "Enough with the fucking 'hide and seek' - I found you. Now sign the contract."

The now, nervous wrecks duly did.

*Moral to the story? - Fucked if I know, but the muppet did try his pressure techniques on me and apparently a swift kick in the bollocks appears to work*

(oh, and apparently 'we' have a new vacuum cleaner - but, you won't find my fingerprints on it - I've seen CSI)"

Porn Movies

2008-06-01T09:58:00.002+02:00

What's the fucking point? Granted, that is maybe not the best phrased question but somewhat ironic perchance.

I don't understand the appeal of watching two (or more) lubricated bimbos, shagging each other senseless. Why watch what you could be doing? DUH

It's feasible that these films may hold an appeal for those people who fell out of the ugly tree, hitting every branch on the way down but nature generally compensates. Even the utterly stupid must find the plot lines thin, if not anorexic.

*Large blonde/black/Asian - (some fucking idiot) walks into a scene*
"Whoops - there goes my underwear!"
*Cue some other weirdo(s) to start fucking with a relentless inevitability*
*Fade out / fuck off*
This film was sponsored by Kleenex - the tissue you can trust.

Whilst it is admirable that these films aid the masturbation purposes of travelling business people in their remote hotel bedrooms - do the wankers have no imagination?

Personally, I have always found them about as appealing as being slapped around the head with a large haddock. The films are pretty shit too.

Obviously, I'm not really a 'fannie' of this puerile media but feel free to justify yourself - unless you're Pippa Gore.

(I am not advocating banning porn films - anything that keeps the tossers away from me is a good thing)

Charlotte Sometimes

2008-05-26T04:53:00.002+02:00

She's new in my life.

She's called Charlotte.

I love her.

Te quiero Mariposa y gracias con el corazón sangriento

*runs off to hug Charlotte again*

A Gothic State

2008-05-24T10:25:00.006+02:00

Which is completely different from the United States (a place full of fat people with guns) - a Gothic state is a heightened sense of awareness, whilst imbibing liquids of a dubious nature, marvelling at the beauty of everything - oh, and the black thing.

However, I have entered the Gothic State and I didn't need a passport - apparently, 'they' were expecting me.

Ergo, it would appear that:-

Mini-Goth is a genius (and all the girls love him - probably some of the boys too) and is 'taking' stupid exams years earlier than needed. If the result is not an 'A' - I will be seeking furious vengeance.

Mini-Gothess is experiencing problems because her forthright nature creates problems for the idiots on the planet. But, methinks there is an 'arse-kicking' afoot - and she won't be taking the class, she'll be teaching it.

Mrs Ex-Goth remains as mad as a bag of squirrels - but she's not talking to me anyway - 'Hoozah - and pancakes for breakfast'.

Mariposa has come to terms with the fact that European Commission people are full of shit - 'poo' is the same in most languages but, just take the money and run.

In other Gothic news..

Goth has to do 'conference calls' with American Idiots again - it's a green day thing. Looking on the dark side, they are aware that I think that they are monkeys with keyboards but I'm not refraining from calling them twats.

Aside from that - not much news from the Gothic State - I have been (de)moted from dealing with shit to dealing with big shit (but shit comes in a compact fashion).

It could be worse - I could be Chinese and trying to kick the crap out of anyone trying to get to the Olympic doofers.

My Dick Is Bigger Than Yours

2008-05-15T02:42:00.008+02:00

A good enough reason not to attend a school reunion I think. Unfortunately though, the time came to face my least significant enemies in the world.

"Fucking hell Goth - is that really you?" shouted a voice from the past
"A distant possibility" I replied, paraphrasing as best I could
"My Dick Is Bigger Than Yours!!!" he yelled

"Oh good" I said, "Nothing really changed then"
"Remember that we called you 'peanut dick' as you would never join us in the showers"
"I recall most things perfectly well thankyou"
"Thing was - you never came in the showers with us..."
"There was problably a reason for that then"
"Yeah", he said swigging another beer "You prefered to be in the library"
"Stupid eh? Full of books and erudition" and I tried to walk away

*small pause in the pointless conversation*

"But, I can still write your name in the snow" he said with bravado
"Well, I'd love to reciprocate but 'Shithead' isn't that complex"

*shit-for-brains looks around*

"Haven't seen 'Billy Big Balls' have you - been dying to take the piss out of him?"
"Be an impressive trick" I replied. "He committed suicide after your little tosser-gang drove him over the edge"

*Another vacant pause*

"Yes - he is dead - and I was at the funeral - unlike you morons. On the bright side, I was intrigued when 'our' Games Teacher got convicted of child pornography."
"Mr 'X' was what?!?!?!"
"One of those weirdos? afraid so, but looking on the bright side, you did make it onto his video collection apparently"

Apparently, the library is a better place to learn than the showers......

Back To Reality

2008-05-11T11:15:00.002+02:00

So, having composed myself, in my perfect place - which was nice, and full of dolphins and vampire bats that only fed on hippies, and sunshine, and tostados con tomatos - I returned to the floating turd of Europe.

Am I a happy little Goth? - No, not really.

Granted, my little Gothic portions have a somewhat tanned appearance and I even went shopping for items that I have no use for at all (and could have stole much faster).

BUT

I discovered that, my little Gothess, is being a victim of mindless thuggery. My initial desire - to go there and rip their fucking hearts out - was countermanded by the fact that Mrs Ex-Goth, in her infinite wisdom-less, has decreed that I will not interfere, ever, even if I could fix things faster.

Mini-Goth (the Brad Pitt of Gothic-ness) had a similar issue several years ago. Back then, I was also not allowed to interject or generally show any emotion.

I was so desperate to bring 'furious vengeance' onto the perpetrators - but, I was told I could not. Apparently, the 'system' will deal with them, and spank their bottoms in a jolly hard fashion.

*Deep Breath*

In the meantime, I will remain the "whacks on, whacks off" person and hug some small trees

Gothic Holiday

2008-05-03T12:20:00.002+02:00

Being Gothic, I'm not used to these 'holiday' type things. All of that pissing about with postcards and suncream is not really on a Gothic agenda at all. However, due to the fact that I was wound tighter than an 'E'-string on a mandolin, I acquiesced at the prospect of going back to Spain.

So, having braved the parade of idiots at the airport, the moronic tendencies of hire-car people, and the sun, we arrived at the hotel.

Sun, sea and boat rides to see some dolphins (doing what dolphins do - i.e. swimming in the sea) were advertised.

I couldn't avoid the sun - much as I tried but, fortunately, I didn't turn into a pile of dust. I do now look like a Gothic lollipop with white bits exactly where I left them.

I saw the sea - it was big, and wet, and full of water.

I also went on the boat ride, much as I loathe water with a vengeance, and saw dolphins. Were they wild dolphins? I think not - they seemed mildly perturbed but put on a performance at the front of the boat - in an arranged fashion. I stayed at the back.

Returning to the hotel, I tried to resist the temptation to entice the gorgeous Scandinavian receptionist back to the room.

Why? What man could resist a beautiful girl with pert breasts?

Don't know - don't care because I am no man, I'm a Goth and in my bed lies a woman.

Not just any woman - but, in my Gothic opinion, a slice of heaven and the reason I have gone from 'mandolin' to 'cello', briefly passing a 'harpsicord' on the way for Gothic effect.

Te quiero Mariposa - mi media naranja

Faith in God

2008-04-24T18:48:00.001+02:00

Well, apparently that's what some idiotic priest from Brazil had. You may notice I phrased that in the past tense. Looking on the bright side, if he does believe in god, he should be talking to him right now.

Why? Because the 'poodle-brained-priest' in his infinite lack of wisdom decided to raise some money by attaching himself to hundreds of helium balloons. Now I don't know if he was pissed on communion wine or something but it's exactly the sort of half-baked idea I come up with I'm pissed.

In itself, it appears to be a plan concocted by Wile E Coyote and in reality, it ended in the same comical fashion.

Thus, Buzz Fuckwit duly got togged up in a silver jump suit, complete with parachute, crash helmet, GPS, a radio and the IQ of a retarded badger.

Once the people on the ground had let go of the ropes, he shot upwards at an alarming pace alledgedly screaming "Jesus Fucking Christ". Meanwhile, the people on the ground applauded merrily at the flying priest and his new prayer.

Several days later he disappeared from the radar and out of communication muttering something about wishing "they'd explained how the bloody GPS thing worked."

The latest news is that popped balloons are washing up along the coast of Brazil, but as yet no sightings of Buzz Fuckwit. Still, I'm sure that if there is a god he's far too busy to be popping balloons for the fun of it - I mean that would be plain silly.

Gypsy Kings

2008-04-18T10:43:00.003+02:00

Trust me - this is not going where you think it is ;-)

Having had my choice of concert to attend last time, and choosing Marilyn Manson (live in Paris), it was not my turn this time. Imagine the terror when I found out that it was to be a Symphony Orchestra.

Firstly, I have no issue with classical music but, attending a concert along with 500 or so very old people did not appeal to me in the slightest. I had visions of being stuck in a room full of old people telling me to 'Sssshhhh' at every given moment as they had their hearing aids turned up full blast.

Arriving at the venue did nothing to allay my fears. We got stuck in the equivalent of a sprint race for lavender-scented snails. Looking on the bright side I figured, the Grim Reaper should be working the door selecting people as they hobbled in - "and YOU can stay behind at the end" etc.

Once inside, we took our seats amongst what I could only describe as a PG Tips Tea Party. The Orchestra eventually wandered onto stage and started warming up.

Then they started playing - and bloody hell they were good. Firstly, yes they were playing classical music, but interspersed with Gypsy music given the aid of a 100 piece Orchestra.

The sense of enjoyment they were having at playing was contagious and then, when they started to encourage the audience to clap the beat in participation the room went wild.

Two and a half hours later, after several standing ovations, and three encores. The evening finally came to an end.

If you have to attend only one concert this year, you really should consider seeing The Budapest Gypsy Symphony Orchestra .

To put it quite simply - THEY ROCK

Pollution - What Is It Good For?

2008-04-16T06:40:00.001+02:00

(Absolutely nothing - say it again)

Pollution - What Is It Good For?

China you should learn this before you entirely kill the planet, in a little 'kung-fu' type fashion and then complain that you couldn't see who won shit because of the bloody fog.

You have become the worst polluters on the planet, overtaking the United States Of A . . . (join the dots) for the first time in recorded history.

The 2008 Olympics are coming your way - but there might be a slight message for you in why no-one wants to be there - especially if they're from Tibet.

Congratulations - he said, in a supremely sarcastic Gothic way - because (and this is your fucking excuse, not me making the shit up for laughs) the official Chinese response to the Pollution Report is:

"There are more of us, and you in 'The West' started it"

Ooh, school playground tactics - well. my dad's bigger than yours (short-arsed twat) - AND, you invented gunpowder too and that wasn't such a brilliant fucking idea was it - apart from wanting to blow shit up for no reason?!

Do I get a BLACK MEDAL now?...

The Gothic Helpdesk

2008-04-12T12:16:00.006+02:00

Some American Idiot, in their infinite lack of wisdom, decided that people would gain wisdom by encountering 'the system' from a back to basics standpoint.

A) - Look 'empathy' up in the dictionary dude
B) - There is a very good reason I was taken off the Helpdesk originally
C) - I'm a Goth and if I don't want to do something, I'm not going to.....

However, in a 'Team USA' fashion I acquiesced (or should that be, in a Gothic way I proved a point?).

Call Number 1
Goth - "Helpdesk"
Nice Person - "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you but my computer is not doing what I want it to"
Goth - "No problemo, tell me what you want to do and I'll make it so, in a Jean-Luc fashion"
Nice Person - *burble, burble, burble*
Goth - "Try it now"
Nice Person - "Oh wonderful, it's working now - thankyou so much"
Goth - "No problemo - have a nice day"

Call Number 2
Goth - "Helpdesk"
Twat - "Hello. I'm really important in the company and my computer is not working"
Goth - "That's a shame"
Twat - "What do you mean it's a shame? Fix it now !!!"
Goth - "Try putting a nice person in front of it"
Twat - "I DEMAND that you fix it now"
Goth - "You fucked it up, fix it yourself" #dial tone#

Call Number 3
(bearing in mind I can see on caller display it's the same number)
Goth - "Hello, Trumpton Fire Station, who do you want Hugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuth.."
Twat - "I am very un.." #dial tone#

Call Number 4
(seconds later)
Goth - "Wun Hung Lo Chinese takeaway - you want 69 with sore finger?"
Twat - "This is not funny, I will .." #dial tone#

Call Number 5
Goth - "Helpdesk - pour Francais presse deux, Nederlands twee, Espagnol quattro - and if you're in Finance, FUCK OFF"
Twat - "I know who you are and this is not funny.."
Goth - "La La La - Not listening, not listening........."#dial tone#

At which point 'Team USA' took me off the Helpdesk, again.

Scheiss passiert !!

Team Building - My Arse

2008-04-09T01:40:00.005+02:00

It would appear that having signed myself over to the 'corporate devil' eventually, I have to undergo an enforced 'team-building event'. The mere fact that they have to enforce the bloody thing rather indicates what a stupid idea it is.

Therefore, instead of doing the job I get paid for, I will have to listen to some muppet from the United States of Idiots explain some bullshit that they neither understand nor adhere to. Just because someone has read a book does not imply that they have understood it.

I will try desperately not to bring up Vietnam and how effective their strategy was there (in case you weren't aware, they fucked up big time).

Instead I will focus on - birds outside the window, or how I can tie 'Plastic' to 'Reaction' in a relatively coherrent post or maybe even, what the rest of the frogs do when the French have just eaten their legs.

How do you get out of something that is compulsory?

I thought about calling in sick (easy enough really) but that was too simplistic
I considered creating havoc, but that's not in my job description
I wondered if maybe I was being too negative, and that maybe living in peace and harmony would be good - and then I recalled that jesus got nailed to a tree for trying that one

So, I will turn up with a crate of beer, some nachos and a DVD of Team USA and see what happens.

*NOTE*

However, if the esteemed professional advisor, at any time tries to get me to hug anyone, or join hands and sing 'Kumbaya' - they will get stapled to the first thing I find.

Unless you have a better suggestion

The Drugs Don't Work

2008-04-07T20:51:00.001+02:00

So spoketh some miserable twat called Richard whilst whingeing about some cat in a bloody bag or something. Well, sorry pal, but they most certainly do work and with somewhat unpredictable consequences - but hilarious to anyone watching.

Before you get on your high horses, I am not talking about heroin or cocaine or that sort of shite. What I refer to is some prescibed bollocks that Dr Do-little gave me. I recall very little about why he gave me these little Xanax tablets in the first place. I do however recall two pertinent observations:-

1) the recommended dosage is 2 tablets (by which, apparently he meant 2 bits of the 4 piece tablet, not 2 whole tablets)

2) Do not drink any alcohol at all - which is like asking a child not to open it's christmas presents early

Needless to say, I took 4 times the dosage and was then curious to know what happened if you mixed them with alcohol.

Five minutes later I had gone from sober to completely twatted without passing 'get merry' or anything. Furniture suddenly started becoming an obstacle I couldn't master, walls went wobbly and everything was as funny as fuck - even blood.

As I stood there teetering, a friend suggested I should sit down.

"I'm about to" I burbled "I'm just waiting for the next time the sofa passes me"

So there you have it - the drugs most certainly do bloody work.....

Fuckwit Filter

2008-04-05T10:50:00.009+02:00

Attracting freaks is a knack that I have possessed forever and too many years. It's not that I set out to attract the bastards - it just kind of happens.

I used to think it was because of my appearance but, it would appear the weirdos can find me over the phone, T'internet or even by snail-mail (when it regards bills).

To explain what I mean by freaks/weirdos, let me expand a little further (like a fat twat in a pie shop).

I can walk into a pub/bar full of people, purchase my pint of Jack Daniels or whatever, and stand at the bar cogitating about something and nothing.

Within minutes I will be approached by:-

a freak on a leash offering to sell me drugs, or
a wired weirdo wanting to buy drugs, or
a suspicious character offering me the chance to make some money by nefarious means

Fortunately, my 'Fuckwit-Filter' kicks in and I explain that:-

I don't need any thanks, I'm perfectly capable of talking bolllocks without the need of chemical stimulation
Do I look like a pharmacist? No - they usually wear white coats not fuck-off long black coats
Whilst I understand the fiscal benefits of importing Romanian women to give blow jobs for 50 cents whilst you charge 50 euros as their 'slime-manager' it is still a bullshit idea, and no, I am not afraid of you 'shit-for-brains' but thanks for asking.

The above all happened within the last 48 hours - and no, it was not the same person, it was three equally freakish fops apparently made from the same fragile mould.

Whilst the temptation to become Jean Claude Van Sprout (JG) and pluck their eyeballs from their head whilst decapitating their grandmother with a jumping side kick is appealing, I live in the real world. Therefore, I allow the Fuckwit-Filter to do the 'kicking in'.

"I'm sorry" I say whilst taking a non-too healthy drag on my cigarette "You must have me confused with someone that actually gives a fuck about whatever you're talking about"

*Weirdos and freaks wander off*

"See - I told you" - says Fuckwit Filter
"Indeed" - I reply
"And btw, I got rid of that shite by Coldplay on your Muppet3 that was a birthday present - I mean, it is fucking bollocks anyway so I replaced it with the new HIM album"

Hooray for Fuckwit-Filters.......

Napoleon Ozonolysis

2008-04-01T16:38:00.002+02:00

Hmm, book 16 in my Encyclopeadia Brittanica collection is apparently a 'super-spy' or for want of a better phrase, an international man of mystery. Well, that's what it says on the cover anyway.

"Napoleon Ozonolysis - licensed to thrill - how are you Miss Funnyfanny?"

Obviously, I knew Napoleon (being the pig in Animal Farm) but the Ozzie thing was rather hampered by constant Black Sabbath tunes scooting around in my head - #"Finished with my woman coz she couldn't help me with my life....."#. chugga chugga

However, I finally got around to reading about Ozonolysis and quite frankly, it is as boring as shit. Simplistically, it involves mixing some crap with some other crap and then determining how saturated the compound becomes.

Great. So we have a small pig who completely fucked up invading Russia because it was winter (and they don't have proper winters in France) allied with pot-noodle chemistry.

What sort of super-spy is that?

It's like employing Stevie Wonder as a sniper and then wondering why everybody is dead.

It could be worse though - in a haphazard way. Napoleon could be a French dwarf wanting to conquer Russia because he heard there were steppes there (which are always handy if you want to change a light bulb or appear taller). Ozonolysis could be the study of erogenous zones of the planet in a 'green, stroking pandas' fashion.

#"People think I'm insane but you haven't even met my wife....."#. chugga chugga

Vote for the next book to get 'explained'

Sarsaparilla Sorcery
Lighting Maximilian
Plastic Reaction

Being A God

2008-03-30T08:36:00.001+02:00

Is not as easy as it seems. I know this because today, I am having a God-like day. Well, one of those 'Etch-a Sketch' days which a Goth has to do every so often. It's a day when a Goth says "Fuck it - this is shit, let's start again"

*vigorously shaking created object*

Computers are my lifeblood - as in they are the vehicle that pay for Jack Daniels, cigarettes and some boring stuff like food, rent, electricity etc. Thus, I am reverential to their capacities and needs. (and M$oft - you can fuck right off at this point).

The time has come though, the Walrus said, to rebuild my server - trusty friend that it is. I have to eradicate everything and start again as if it was a brand new baby puter.

The second part is easy - create something as you would like it to appear. Install only the stuff that you choose (without time constraints)

The first part is not so easy - kill everything (when you can get past the OS's objections)

Goth - Delete everything
OS - Are you sure?
Goth - Yes
OS - Are you insane? You do know I won't work after this
Goth - Just do it !! - Nike was a God and so am I
OS - they didn't have computers in ancient Greece
Goth - I was fucking busy
OS - Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?
Goth - Yes
OS - But this will format the hard drive and render all oper...
Goth - Just fucking do it - twat
OS - I'll be back though?
Goth - Yes, just better, faster and....

*meanders off with a bottle of JD in one hand and cigarette in the other*

The Joy Of Sex

2008-03-28T13:59:00.004+01:00

It's amazing what you can derive from a book just by looking at the title. The Joy Of Sex is hardly likely to be about bee-keeping really. Having read it (and looked at the pictures) it pretty much is exactly as the title suggests. Not quite sure why you'd need a pocket version mind you - most of the pictures involve naked people so where would you stash the book?

The reason for me mentioning this? Because the winner of The Oddest Book Title of the year has just been announced - the top three were as follows:-

3 - Cheese Problems Solved
2 - I Was Tortured By The Pygmy Love Queen
1 - If You Want Closure In Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs

Rather unsurprisingly, the winning entry was written by a man. How he managed to fill a book on the topic is a mystery. The title kind of gives all the advice women need to end a relationship.

Now what I want to know is if any of you have actually read any of the previous winners?

They were:-

The Joy of Chickens
American Bottom Archaeology
Versailles: The View From Sweden
Re-using Old Graves
Highlights in the History of Concrete
The Big Book of Lesbian Horse Stories

and my personal favourite....

People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves to Unsuspecting Bystanders and What to Do About It

Wonder what that's about then?????

Chinese Olympics

2008-03-26T17:24:00.002+01:00

So, for some bizarre reason known only to the Olympic Committee, the games are to be held in China. What a bloody stupid decision.

Firstly, the pollution in and around Beijing makes sucking on an exhaust pipe preferable. Secondly, it's not as if the chinese are extra friendly or anything and Goth help you if you're Tibetan.

Therefore, it is for this reason that I have decided to create a Goth team who will travel to China - on behalf of those friendly little monks who just want their country back. As the funky monkeys are used to wearing long flowing robes, I'm sure my team will fit right in.

The provisional list for the team is:-

The Crow
Neo from The Matrix
Jet Li (as The One)
Van Helsing

Hee hee - now the next time those pesky little chinese try twatting someone with their over-sized chopsticks they are going to get a bloody good arse kicking.

Think you're good at kung fu do you, irritating oriental hobbit? Just wait until Jet Li makes a noodle salad out of your arms and legs - then you won't be so anally retentive just because you all have the same uniform.

Incidentally, if you're wondering why Van Helsing is in the team - it's not because he has to do any fighting but I figured we might as well win one gold medal whilst we're there and he's a dead cert for the archery competition (assuming the chinese haven't banned all weapons that is).

Still, I'm sure there are a few others you could suggest for my Goth-i-Betan olympic squad....

Virtual Insanity

2008-03-23T13:12:00.004+01:00

I have one of those Play-Frustration things and, simplistically, it makes no fucking sense at all. There are too many buttons and the car doesn't do what I want it to do at all - stupid bastard thing.

In reality, I can drive anything that has wheels (and I have the official licenses to prove it) - in PFS (Play Fucking Station) world, I can't drive for shit.

"OK", I think and change the game to golf - the art of twatting a small ball into a small hole whilst wearing ridiculous trousers.

Same result.

In real life, I can twat a ball really hard, in the direction that I want (or, if frustrated enough, twat the person I want to). However, on this game thingy - I'm like Stevie Wonder on acid.

WTF? - What the fuck is that about then?

In 'gaming' world, you can be anything you want to. You can kick the shit out of some Alien mother-fuckers, beat Brazil at football with one leg tied behind your head, fly X-wing doofers at breakneck speed and..

In reality, it doesn't actually work that way.

Crashing a car fucking hurts. Getting your arse kicked hurts also and you cannot climb walls, jump across mighty crevaces or otherwise without the aid of class A drugs.

However, in a spiritual Gothic way, I offer the following 'gaming' releases:-

Learn a Language (especially your own)
Read Books (with words and everything)
Hate God (he started it)
Make Love Not War (some hippy shit, but makes sense I think)

Suggestion for the Gothic Play Fru-Station games?????

Crucify Us

2008-03-20T20:47:00.001+01:00

For those of you not aware, tomorrow is the celebration of when that hippy got nailed to a tree 2000 years ago. Quite why the romans wanted to nail him to a tree is a bit of a mystery - something to do with saying it would be lovely if people were nice to each other.

Now obviously, I'm not a believer (I thought the Monkees were shit) but if I was, I don't think I'd call it Good Friday. I'm pretty sure the conversation would have gone more like this:-

Jesus - "Fuck me, that hurts"
Peter - "It's ok lord, we will remember this day for thousands of years and call it Good Friday"
Jesus - "What the fuck is good about this you moron?"

Anyway, christians believe in it, which I suppose they have to as you couldn't trust the church for anything to believe in, well apart from religious wars, and scaremongering, and sodomy etc.

However, it would appear that those weird little Phillipinos have a ceremony every year where the 'true believers' re-enact the whole crucifixion malarkey. Now that is either plain fucking stupid or a true measure of devotion - and I know which one I think is true.

What the bloody hell would you want to tie yourself to a tree for, let alone get nailed to one? But, it's their foolish little bodies so they can do what they jolly well choose as far I am concerned.

Unfortunately for the self-flagellating ones, the health and safety muppets have stepped into to spoil the party as per usual. The new Health & Safety Crucifixion must follow their rules, examples of which include:-

all crosses have to be disinfected first
there is a height restriction suspension heights
crowns of thorns must be worn over a hard hat
wounds over 1cm must have a band aid applied

For me, Health & Safety should disappear up their own anally retentive legislation. I don't tell them what music to listen to !!

Suggestions for other Health & Safety bollocks rules can be sent in a chocolate egg to the usual address....

Seven More Deadly Sins

2008-03-14T16:12:00.003+01:00

So, not satisfied with abusing the Seven deadly sins that they have been touting for the last 1500 years - the catholic church has decided to come up with so more. How jolly considerate of them.

Several of the whingeing little twats that work for this global cancer, have tried to claim that they are only bringing them a little more up to date for modern society. Well, as per usual - they really have their finger on the pulse for that one.

Now, in the first instance, why would they need some more deadly sins? For that, you have to look at the original sins. In no particular order they are pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth. Now call me a cynic if you wish (I don't give a shit) bit these original seven have and still are adequately represented by the church.

The new seven, I would list but it's a bit boring, are pretty much covered by the church also.

'So why mention it?'I hear you ask. Well, because if you work on the principle that sins should be punished, then they should have also come up with a list of punishments. I guess they're probably too busy practising the sin bit first.

The original punishments for the sins were as follows:-

Pride - Broken on the wheel
Envy - Put in freezing water
Gluttony - Forced to eat rats, toads, and snakes
Lust - Smothered in fire and brimstone
Anger - Dismembered alive
Greed - Put in cauldrons of boiling oil
Sloth - Thrown in snake pits

I suppose it might be interesting to come up with a list of punishments for the new sin list - but then again, the fuckers never listen to me anyway - pompous bastards . . . .

Gleamin

2008-03-10T21:44:00.002+01:00

A slightly truncated use of a word that I recognise only from Wales, but one I will be using a lot this week - e.g.

"ere, come and 'ave a look at my washing - it's gleamin"

It's not very often that I get the chance to celebrate being Welsh - in general we're shit at most things that don't involve sheep. However, it would appear that our rugby team did not read the conditions attached to being Welsh and so, taking no bloody notice at all, decided to win a trophy. And, if all goes well, at the weekend they should win the Championship - assuming they don't fall over various frogs legs littered around the Milennium Stadium.

HA HA

Who said rugby was shit?! Erm, actually, that will have been me then - on account of being built to be the perfect size for a corner flag and still being forced to play rugby at school - twice....

There are some good things that came from Wales - The Stereophonics for example, who played here in Bruxelles last Monday. Unfortunately, there are rather more shite things to emerge from the land of my birth.

Thus I have compiled a list of famous people from Wales, in two categories - 'Gleamin' = good, 'Goppin' = shit.

Gleamin

Ryan Giggs - still the best FA cup goal ever
Stereophonics - top gig fellas
Manic Street Preachers - suicide is painless, and proofless
Joe Calzaghe - yeah, doesn't sound very Welsh but he'll still kick your ass
Anthony Hopkins - having a friend for dinner with a nice Chianti

Goppin

Tom Jones - and his pile of wet knickers
Charlotte Church - voice of an angel but a mouth full of....
Aled Jones and his frigging snowman
Michael Owen - no wonder you're ill all the time choosing to play for England
Catherine Zeta Jones - talentless harlot but nice...... er, .. bank balance

Feel free to suggest additions to the list in either category - best one wins a sheep....

The Belgian Army

2008-03-05T22:58:00.004+01:00

I was going to write about my birthday but there's no point, it's just another day and if you weren't there, you already missed the free drinks. I could also have talked about the superb gig I saw on Monday but, if you weren't there either, the band have already left.

Anyway, during a conversation about what people did before we became the little computer geeks that we are today, it came about that two of them had been in the Belgian Army.

Firstly, I have to confess that I didn't even know that Belgium had an army (good camouflage I presume), and even if they do/did, assuming the work ethic is the same as the police force here, I'm sure they'd be too pissed to fight.

However, up until 1984 or so, Belgium still had conscription (or drafting) - simplistically, where you have to join the army whether you like it or not. As to this being a good idea or not is purely subjective but let me give you a couple of tales (not from me, I hasten to add) which may help you formulate an opinion.

Lesson 1 - Training on Radioactivity

The platoon sergeant has to hide a radioactive ball (about the same size as a tennis ball) somewhere, and with the help of a Geiger Counter, the platoon have to find it. Doesn't seem that complex really - when the Geiger Counter starts clicking like Flipper having an orgasm, the hunt is over.

Unfortunately, by the time the sergeant catches up to his platoon, they are playing an impromptu game of 'catch' with the ball of radioactive shite. I suppose it's a good job they weren't American as someone would have brought a baseball bat.

Needless to say, said Sergeant is not a happy camper and the Geiger Counter is off the chart any time one of the platoon walk past.

Lesson 2 - Fitness Training

Being such a small country, choosing the best and fittest recruits isn't really an option. Therefore, if you are breathing you are in. In order to avoid unnecessary deaths, for those of a somewhat unfit state, they are given a piece of paper somewhat similar to a 'get out of jail free' card in Monopoly.

Not really the wisest idea really. I mean, if you have the choice of running 10 miles with 40lb of kit every morning, or waving a piece of paper under the sergeants nose that says you don't have to - which would you choose?

I think this guy definitely got the best part of the deal. Initially, the army claimed that everyone would leave with a trade suitable for the outside world. So, they made him a barman - he couldn't fight for shit but boy, could he mix a cocktail (always useful in a battle situation!!).

In Conclusion

I don't think I'd want the Belgian Army on my side in a war, I think I'll choose the Swiss one - at least they get those funky little knives and can nip the enemy with the tweezers.....

It Would Appear

2008-02-29T23:41:00.001+01:00

A lovely phrase used as the beginning of a sentence that could lead anywhere - but usually, somewhere on the road to Shitsville, Arizona. 'It would appear' is simply a way of saying that I think, without knowing any of the facts at all.

Why do I mention this now? Because I've had another one of those birthday things. So what, I don't look too bad for 400 years old - the beauty of being a vampire I guess.

However, having recently had my long hair cut, "...It would appear that I look younger". Well, I hate to burst your bubble on this score, but time only moves in one direction. I am older than when I started writing this - that's the wonder known as the space/time continuum.

I suppose one could argue that 'appearance is not reality' but that does not account for uneducated people's reactions, beliefs or behaviour - and by education, I am not talking about some muppet in a jacket attempting to explain Keynesian Economics when he cannot Demand my attention as a Supply teacher.

Firstly, it's my hair and I'll do what I bloody well want with it. Secondly, it is not your place 'people' to judge me on what I do with my hair - invariably, you will be so far off the mark it beggars belief.

Por Ejemplo -

Bald Head - 'Appearance' = skinhead and prone to violence, 'Reality' = Chemotherapy, it has that effect
Long Black Hair - 'Appearance' = Santa (sic) worshiper, 'Reality' = I just fucking like it, so tough shit !

Pink Jumper - 'Appearance' = adequate attire for the golf club, 'Reality' = self opinionated twat
Black Clothes - 'Appearance' = cross the road quickly dear, 'Reality' = emergency services, Goths and people who help

Far too often, I have been judged by what people appear to see, rather than what they would choose to learn. Yes, I can be an arsey cunt, if I choose to - but only when provoked.

In the meantime - rejoice !! I'm not old, just older.....

America - The Land of ...

2008-02-26T23:56:00.009+01:00

*Note* It's even in the national anthem, "Land of the.." but that's where it becomes bullshit. So here is my version of the next part of the statement (and if you don't like it, tough shit) - it's my blog and I'll write what the fuck I want.

SO, AMERICA IS THE LAND OF THE:-

Fat Bastards - granted the UK are desperately trying to catch up but if one US state actually all jumped at the same time they would create a Tsunami that would take out all small pacific islands.

I noticed today that some fucking idiot has created a 'burger' (available on a normal menu, not to create a world record) weighing something like 60 kilos. That is not a burger! It's a bloody cow between 2 bits of very large bread. Doubtless, the twat that orders it will also have a Diet Coke..

Idiots in Trailer Parks - like the guy who has won $275 MILLION on a lottery. Firstly, I'm not jealous - the guy had a shit job, his wife looks like Miss Piggy without the fashion sense and he lives in a trailer. Secondly, I agree with his choice to take about half of it in one hit rather than small amounts for the next 50 years or whatever.

My issue is with his statement that "Life's not gonna change any for us - we're just gonna have a mansion built, buy new matching 4x4's, pay for all the family to go to that school thing..." etc. *Newsflash pal* - your life has already changed. Get the education yourself and stop talking through your arse - and while you're at it, give some to charity.

Parasitic Professions - like lawyers and plastic surgeons. I read about some woman who successfully sued a department store for $1.3 million because she tripped over some twatty little kid that was running around the shop. I couldn't really comprehend why the store had a liability to pay the woman but then, in true American style, they outdid themselves. It was her fucking kid !!!

As for the plastic surgeons, in Europe, we would have just recycled Michael Jackson - make him into egg boxes or something.

The Free and The Land Of The Brave - hmmm, it was, until you massacred most of them. There seems to be a lack of understanding about guns over there. I don't give a shit what Charlton Heston (President of the NRA) says, guns are not big and clever - they kill things and if you are not killing something to eat it - fuck off and starve or become a vegetarian - plants don't run away !!

And before you assume I am going to trash everything American, America is also home to:-

Home To Some Lovely People - that I know. I've been priveleged enough to meet some wonderful Americans - the first of which were a couple of guys called Daryl and Marcus, who visited Wales many years ago as part of a choir. They taught me some intricacies about American Football I didn't know and I exchanged knowledge about girls (apparently, in Wales, we start experimenting with the opposite sex earlier ?!)

Prostitutes

2008-02-23T01:05:00.004+01:00

Apparently, 'You can't live with them, you can't live without them', or so I have heard. Well, I've heard that said about many things, but that's not bloody good enough.

'Prostitution is the oldest profession known to man' is another quote I have encountered many times. There's a bit of a giveaway in the 'known to MAN' bit, I think.

Both of the above are complete bollocks - Welcome to the Catholic version of Sex and Religion.

So someone chooses to pay for sex, so fucking what !!!

What really pisses me off, and that takes a lot usually, is that some weirdo in the UK has been convicted of killing FIVE women. In itself, this is bad enough, but all the news coverage says "Serial killer kills 5 prostitutes".

What do these shit-head journalists do apart from getting pissed in bars and swapping stories??!!

FIVE PEOPLE lost their lives and that should be the important bit, not what they chose to do to earn their money.

But, that's the joy of journalism - ONE journalist gets kidnapped and there's a fucking huge campaign mounted by the media. FIVE prostitutes get murdered and that's ok, "We could run something on Page 11 but not if it intereferes with the 'Burger King' advert".

AND, before, Mr ED the Journalist, you get on your fucking 'high horse' - do some fucking research.

I did, and it was fucking depressing - but, at least it was more than you did you publicity-seeking twats.....

*To the families of the GIRLS who lost their lives - sincere Gothic hugs*

Sorry if you were coming to Goth World for happy thoughts....

City Of Culture

2008-02-19T19:46:00.001+01:00

I know sometimes I might rag on a bit about Bruxelles being shit but it has it's plus points. Granted, the shit bits are major. European Capital my arse - just because we have the European Commission here means fuck all - except that we get inundated with moronic Euro politicians who spend most of their time debating bugger all whilst living on expenses.

The public transport sucks a lot of the time, although it still makes the travel system in the UK seem like something from The Simpsons.

It's quite a nice place to live if you don't want to speak any language other than your own as there is such a mix of languages here, so if you're feeling like being a linguistic lazy bastard - it's the place for you.

On the plus side though - there is culture here. No I'm not talking about the recent exhibition of Leonardo Da Vinci - boring. It only became a popular topic because of that silly little book, The Da Vinci Code (which was a conglomeration of stolen ideas anyway).

No, I'm talking about a 'proper' exhibition. It just started here this weekend having toured some small provincial villages in Europe like London, Paris and Lisbon. Am I going to see it - abso-fucking-lutely. The opportunity to see a major exhibition of something so big it's, well, out of this world.

What am I talking about? Well, DUH!

The Star Wars Exhibition - hee hee, you get to meet Yoda and ask him what the fuck he's talking about - how cool is that?!

Don't get me wrong - I'm not one of those sad twats that will get dressed up as a character to visit it but, it is a chance to revert to my childhood just for a few hours.

Granted, there is one other exhibition that I want to see, infinitely more Gothic, but that's in Paris (more about that one soon).

In the meantime - May The Force Be With You

*disappears trying to light a cigarette with his light sabre*

New Testament - The Hobbit

2008-02-16T15:21:00.002+01:00

As The Goth has entered a new environment, he has encountered new characters. All of these 'people' he has had to add a label to in order to remember their names, rank, habits etc. One has to bear in mind that being a lazy bastard, I don't really work for Mrs Miggins at the corner shop - so I lean toward global corporations - except McDonalds, who are a bunch of twats.

Obviously, one has to be slightly discreet in describing your cow-workers, in case the muppets actually read this shit but, in keeping with true Goth Policy - maybe not, as I don't give a fuck.

Introducing - Number 1 - The Hobbit.

Head of new shit - apparently he got promoted from looking after old shit. Wandering around the office looking for his ring, he is a desolate figure - with no hair. I'm somewhat tempted to offer to superglue my offcuts to his head but maybe he wants to look like a midget version of Michael Stipe ?!

The Hobbit was my first point of contact on my way to Mount Doom and he still hasn't introduced me to Doom - I just have to assume she is a babe by the way that he dribbles when he talks about her.

In the meantime, I have to circumvent his inane questions about mathematical functions. It kind of reminds me of being back in school and being asked why 'we' have quadratic equations. Apparently, "because there's a lot of sad bastards in the world with nothing better to do" is not the correct answer.

Talking of sad bastards, The Hobbit relishes the prospect of night support. Now, as a Goth, I appreciate the vampire hours more than most but not if some wanker in Venezuela can't make their printer create an invoice. Fuck off and don't be calling me at 3 am !!!

I think The Hobbit is starting to appreciate the fact that I don't actually care that his 'precious' system doesn't do what it is supposed to. Guess what, I think - out loud, your inadequacies are what created my job.

Of course, if he starts eating raw fish and stating "We likes them wet and wwwwwriggling" I will have to drop 16 tons on his head !!

Welcome to my world.......

Countdown To Destruction

2008-02-14T23:55:00.002+01:00

Not long to go now before El Goth reaches another landmark in his life. A time to reflect I suppose but then, the temptation to think that you would do things differently proves all too tempting.

How could you have done things differently? One makes decisions based on the information at hand at the time. Granted my parents were distraught when I turned down the scholarship to a private school when I was 10. As a family we didn't have any money so the opportunity for one of us to join the 'elite' must have seemed a gift from the gods. BUT, I did't want to play 'chase the soap' with the 'chocolate soldiers' (later to become lawyers, paedophiles or whatever).

I was more interested in proving that you could play with sticks without taking someone's eye out. I was curious to know how you could create fire without matches or a lighter - the ants found out the hard way. I wanted to wrap dogshit in newspaper, set fire to it on someone's doorstep and then ring the doorbell. Simplistically, I wanted to be a child and discover for myself - not follow some script that should make me a 'better person'.

Teachers didn't really help - they didn't understand the concept of multi-tasking then. They assumed because I was talking to my friends at the back of the class I wasn't listening to them. Not true. It's just that the interesting parts were so fragmented between repetitive nonsense that the only time I came alive was during exams.

Apparently, this was not very popular with the educational community so I used to get sent from lessons to somewhere I had to be quiet. In typically myopic fashion, the only place they could think of was the library. So, I sat quite happily educating myself.

I'd like to think it was a clever ploy but, I knew the odds that were running on me failing exams. I know this because I had an inside track. The few teachers who actually cared would say things like:-

Art - "You're supposed to learn how to draw an eye? Come and look at the work of the Pre-Raphaelites"
Music - "Scales? Listen to Bob Dylan and then Mozart..."
English - "Cider with bloody Rosie - Jesus Christ, come and have a look at The Iliad"

Do I regret not going to a Private School? Do I fuck. You can keep your privates....

*to be continued*

Never Give Up

2008-02-12T21:52:00.001+01:00

The motto of Lord Lucan apparently, as opposed to Lord Baden-Powell, whose motto encouraged all Boy Scouts to carry condoms (Always Be Prepared). Which means that Powell was assuming that they were all jolly japesters who enjoyed fashioning water bombs, or he had another inkling about a group of young boys in shorts - but I guess you need a private education to get that bit?!

Anway, as for me, I'm not giving up blogging. I just have to readjust my timetable somewhat. Some of you that have been visiting here for a while may recall that I used to write them on the train on my way to work (when the shit train service remembered to actually make them arrive on time).

Unfortunately, that is not an option anymore as I now have to walk to work and I'm not typing whilst I walk. The reason for this is that the new place is precisely 3 'chain-smoked' cigarettes duration from home. Not that I would do that of course, I'm too busy avoiding the dogshit on the pavements.

Once I get a rhythm sorted out, normal Goth World entries will be resumed.

It was a bit frightening at first - I had to put my 'prostitute outfit' on to secure the deal - by which, I mean a suit. However, after I'd had the contract confirmed I asked the important question.....

"I don't have to dress like this every fucking day do I?"

Thankfully, the answer was NO - so Back in Black then :))

Of course, it does mean that there is a new influx of characters in Goth World - which is good because The Burble was really starting to piss me off. Mariposa is happy, planning trips to Italy and Spain and Goth knows where.

So hang in there my little followers of darkness, normality will be resumed shortly. In the meantime, thanks to those who offered words of concern. Unlike Samson though, cutting my hair just made me stronger - and I'm still hoping to make a profit from the offcuts..... the shit works for butchers!!

It's Just A Jump To The Left

2008-02-11T00:27:00.000+01:00

Sorry, Goth World, I have been busy assessing my life - like a snake with a lisp.

As I have another one of those birthday doofers coming up, I thought it was time to decide what I wanted, rather than what every other fucker desired from my embittered soul.

'AHA' - I thought, and then realised that was the name of a Norwegian band famous for something or other in the 80's. Thus, I changed my suppossedly cerebral statement to 'Gadzooks'.

However, the point remained the same - 'Why did I feel like what I was doing was what everyone else wanted?'.

That was actually quite easy to figure out (in retrospect). What was rather more complex was to figure out was why I could not simply be happy to exist.

It's a bizarre equation of life that we elicit what we desire from those we can, and yet, subjucate ourselves to those who we feel have more power.

Unfortunately, that 'point' has proven costly. In doing so, I committed to and destroyed a marriage, I have alienated my children, I lost the 'perfect' job for me.

Basically, I fucked up!!

So, in my thoughts on correction and validation, a feeling of Zen ran over me like a big, chocolate slug.

Maybe I didn't have to fight after all. Perhaps I could just utilise the gifts that I have to benefit the many.

(and before you religious freaks get in on the act, I did not see God, or Monkeys, or Sacred Cows - I saw my bank balance).

Most importantly, I saw the sadness in the eyes of people I love.

It was time for a change - and so, I made the change. All of my lovely hair got sliced of by a barber (and I didn't even go to Seville). I shaved my 'goatee' beard off. I even looked for a 'proper' job - one of those that pays you for holidays....

I'm not saying I found Gothic redemption - but I am fucking trying......

Interview Technique

2008-02-07T21:25:00.000+01:00

Interview technique is a very important asset to posess. There are a number of facets that one has to bear in mind because nobody wants to be landed with a job that they had no desire for.

So here, courtesy of Goth World, are a few tips to bear in mind:-

Try and be prepared - it's important that you can quantify your career to date especially when you get asked about particular dates in your career history.
Always look the interviewer straight in the eye - it is important to give off a sense of trustworthiness.
Do not be drawn into embellishing on your achievements to date - it is very easy to get caught out on any inaccuracies.
Research is paramount - you really must know the background of the job you are being interviewed for.
Bear in mind that if you are being interviewed, they already want you for the job - it is just whether you say the things they want to hear.
Ensure your referees are going to say favourable things about you (it's pointless using a referee who countermands what you have declared).
Keep it simple - the more complex your explanations, the more likely it is you will get caught out at a later date.

So there you have it, a simple Gothic guide to interview technique.

Oh, I almost forgot, it's usually very wise to ensure that you have a solicitor/attorney present.

That way the bastards can't twist what you said !!

Are You A 'Leg' Man?

2008-02-05T02:22:00.000+01:00

I don't have a preference from the list of :- HEAD or LEGS or BUMS.

This is a reference to the order in which you slice, bite or swallow in general.

Now, steady on tiger, I am talking about how you generally partake of Jelly Babies.

For those of you, not aware of these confectionary masterpieces, let me elucidate. 'Jelly Babies' are small pieces of jelly sweets, crafted into the form of.... wait for it... little people !!

Obviously, for the fucking idiots reading this, I am not talking about eating babies, that would be bloody stupid - (i.e. Tipper Gore - which rhymes with 'Fucking Whore' - fuck off and do something interesting. They're just fucking sweets) but jolly nice ones.

So, having procured a bag full of these sugary little rascals, and ignored the Gorey Bullshit - you have to decide on how to eat them and there are many methods you can partake in this, supposedly, oral delight - Por ejemplo:-

The Pamela Anderson - shove it all in your mouth in one go
The Elton John - you can start with the bum, but then it gets sticky
The Ozzy Osbourne - bite the heads off first
The Ziggy Freud - your mother has to lick it surreptiously
The Vinnie Jones - take the legs first, munch the rest afterwards
The George Michael - to be eaten in toilets and denied later
The Britney Spears - shove them up your nose and watch your hair fall out

Of course, there may be other suggestions I may have missed.....

Songs Of Praise

2008-02-03T18:59:00.000+01:00

For those of you not from the UK, Songs Of Praise is a TV programme broadcast every Sunday where some wizened old git presents a load of hyperbolic nonsense from a church or cathedral. Typically, they will harp on about how the lord is their shepherd and they are his/her/it's sheep.

This is interspersed with choral renditions of some crap hymns that no-one really knows the words too but, in a bizarre twist of fate, knowing that there will be TV cameras present - an entire flock of these sheep turn up to mumble through the words hoping to see themselves on TV.

Now, apart from the hypocritical twit presenting the show, you are deluged by archaic praises to some supposed god. It's not too bad now as there is Sky TV and Cable where you can watch naked beach volleyball instead but when I was growing up, there were only a few channels you could get and it was a choice of this, or Open University with some bearded muffin extrapolating parabolic curves or something.

Fuck that for a game of soldiers!

Why can't they update the Songs Of Praise format? They could use Metallica one week, Marilyn Manson the next week etc - that would be far more interesting. Por ejemplo, you could have the following:-

Metallica Songs Of Praise

Now, doesn't that sound more interesting than some blue-rinsed out of date crumpet eulogising about how great it is to be a 90-year old virgin?

I'm sure normal visitors to Goth World may have alternative suggestions but, for the 'god-squad', fuck off and leave me alone - you're missing your programme.....

An Encyclopaedic Tale

2008-02-01T21:50:00.000+01:00

Following on from my previous posting about the Britannica, let me introduce you to Volume 10. Garrison - Halibut. Except, with a slight difference......

Garrison Halibut patrolled the waters with the calm air of an ex-underwater cop. He'd long since resigned himself to having been kicked off the force and since starting his own marine detective agency, was quite happy to work on his own.

This latest assignment though was going to be quite different from the others he had solved, enhancing his reputation - especially with the Scales of Justice.

However, he realised after several hours that he was going to have to question one of his informants, a slippery character known as Sammy the Squid. Garrison knew that Sammy had his tentacles in many orifices - if anyone knew what might transpired in the underseaworld, Sammy 'Squealer' Squid would know.

Garrison suspected the best place to find Sammy was a small dive just off the Reef. It was a known hangout for unsavoury elements and it was no surprise, as he arrived in the murky underwater hangout, to see Sammy watching the erotic mermaid dancers.

"Hi Sammy" said Garrisson after he had drifted silently beside him.

Sammy jumped and let out a jet of liquid.

"Neptune Almighty!" exclaimed Sammy "What are you trying to do? Give me a coronary"

"I'm working a big case Sammy and I think you might have some information for me - they'll be a few thousand plankton in it for you" said Garrisson.

Garrisson Halibut started to outline what he knew so far about the case but had barely started when Sammy turned a very pale colour.

"Garrisson" said Sammy, very nervously whilst twitching several of his tentacles "You know I kinda like you but you really should stay away from this one. I've heard a few things and it's not something I'd ever want to get involved in. You know I don't swim with a shoal anymore - it's far too dangerous now".

"Come on Sammy, you know I'm afraid of no fish, crustaceans or mammals" replied Garrisson.

"This time you should be afraid - be very afraid" said Sammy pointing a few tentacles at Garrisson.

Garrisson Halibut stared intensely at Sammy The Squid and waited for him to squeal....

*To be Continued...*

Jirasek Lighthouses

2008-01-31T13:14:00.000+01:00

Sounds rather interesting doesn't it but no, it's got fuck all to do weird islands of dinosaur buildings - although I dare say there's a story in there somewhere.

It actually comes from the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and takes a little explaining.

For as many years as I dare to remember, I have wanted a copy of the EB. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I was brought up in a family that made a 'church-mouse' look rich - it was never going to happen.

Fast forward to a few months ago and as I was dragged around an antique (second-hand shit) shop, by Mariposa, I spied a very old copy of the aforementioned EB.

Suddenly, years of yearning for learning returned. Seen it - want it - can't afford it still !!

Two days later, I'm in the pub and someone who is emigrating, mentions that he is giving away all his books - including a copy of ... EB

Hoo-fucking-ray!!

I moved faster than a ferret up a drainpipe and now, the back of my office contains a version of the EB.

On the face of it (well, the spine really), Volume 13 streches from Jirasek to Lighthouses. Now I know what a Lighthouse is - there's families of the bastard things, but WTF is a Jirasek? That's why you need the books see.

A 'Jirasek' is a person for a start. A Czech novelist to be exact, whose last major novel was The Darkness (Temno).

Proof if ever you needed it - a dark theme, for a Goth. These books and I belong together....

Silly Fact Day

2008-01-29T11:07:00.000+01:00

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee - (Hardly seems worth it.)
If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb - (Now that's more like it!)
The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet - (that's a dangerous erection)
A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes - (In my next life, I want to be a pig.)
A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death. (Creepy but I'm still not over the pig.)
The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its! head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off - (Honey, I'm home. What the fuck...?! )
The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field - (30 minutes..lucky pig! Can you imagine?)
The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds - (What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)
Some lions mate over 50 times a day - (I still want to be a pig in my next life...quality over quantity)
Butterflies taste with their feet - (Something I always wanted to know.)
The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue - (Hmmmmmm......)
Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump - (Okay, so that would be a good thing)
A cat's urine glows under a black light - (I wonder who was paid to figure that out?)
An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain - (I know some people like that.)
Starfish have no brains - (I know some people like that too.)
Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure - (What about that pig??)

Any other suggestions?....

Orc Transport

2008-01-27T22:26:00.000+01:00

Alright - I've had enough of pissing around with The Bible. It's a crock of fucking shit anyway.

Back to more earthly ranting.

Public Transport - bastards!

Granted I don't like the muppets who fail spectacularly in their aim to follow a timetable. I mean, Jesus Bloody Christ - you came up with the shit timetable in the first place so why not keep to it? Unless of course it's just a great big joke - well, ha, bloody ha - it's not fucking funny.

That's not what incenses me the most though. What really, really, really winds me up is being stuck in a carriage of one of their metal underground caterpillars, surrounded by Orcs.

The great, unwashed of the world, who unite to occupy MY space without the common courtesy to purchase and use deodorant first. What is it about hygiene that these bastards don't understand? Surely the little cloud of flies hovering around their heads is a bit of a giveaway.

Apparently not. The 'garlic-munching gobshites' want to come and stand in MY carriage shouting into their mobile phones like volume will make the signal carry further.

Guess what ORCS? It's not big and it's not fucking clever!!

Therefore I have a choice. Buy a car and trash the environment or buy one of those big clown flowers that squirts water and fill it with perfume instead. Hee hee - spray the bastards!! "'Cos Orcses don't smell very nice, do they my love?!" as Gollum would say.

Unfortunately, wearing a big flower on my jacket is not a very Gothic image. I suppose I could walk onto the Metro with an accordian - that's usually a good way to empty the carriage.

Or else I could just go and buy a car?

Suggestions.........