Today was a Bank Holiday in the UK. In accordance with economic events over the past 3 years or so, a lobby has been established for consideration of a name change on such future suspensions of work, to Bastard Holidays.
The Bastard...sorry, Bank Holiday, dates back to an Act of 1871 when Henry James Earl decided to take the first Monday in May off work, thus closing his Bank to the public. Others of his fellow Bankers followed suit and hey presto, another feather in the cap for the lazy arseholes charter was established.
Seriously, when you think about it, what the fuck do these halfwits do, that demands so many official Holidays? Admittedly, making a gigantic contribution to fucking up the global economy, is sure to take it out of you. All those afternoon small business meetings with their, 'yes I know we said you could count on us for unflinching assistance with your generally successful business, but that was when you called this morning' , must make for more than the odd dash to the lacquered mahogany 'drinkies' cabinet in the boardroom, for a swift Pimms, to calm those frayed edges. The shattering blow delivered by the realization that ones declining bonus could result in the yacht being bought 'off the peg', rather than custom built...oh the shame. How can one amusingly moon at ones chums from a mere 40 metre toy boat. Yeh, life's a beach, baby.
But hang on people. The Banks are an easy hit. Don't get me wrong, they 100% deserve to be treated like something nasty on the bottom of your shoe. But...let's face it, General Joe Public doesn't come out of this smelling of Chanel No.5. Our penchant for a bit of largesse meant that we allowed ourselves to be led Pied Piper style, into the land where tomorrow never comes.The land of gravity defying house prices, debts that 'never, never' get paid off and Banks being the gift that just keeps giving. Yeh, right. How fucking stupid are we? Banks called the tune and we did the Morris dancing.
So, what can anyone who may have the ability (dosh!) to plan finances, learn from this pile of horseshit? (I don't mean my blog...it's obviously superb).
#1 Don't go to any Bank for financial advice. Both RBOS and BOS have been fined more than £6m in the last year for flogging crap and non-relevant retail investments to their customers. They are without question, the greediest of the greedy. The Banks are a huge part of our global ills and having palpably displayed their avarice and incompetence, why anyone (other than someone who buys Opal Fruits because it contributes to their 5-a-day fruit&veg portion) would trust them with anything other than a simple, straightforward Bank account, leaves me mystified. History folks, history!!
#2 Don't trust 'financial experts/advisers', unless they can demonstrate a decent track record of fiscal probity and talk to you in a language you can understand.
#3 Don't be so fucking greedy. If you have a little stash, be grateful. Many's the person who invested a large fortune and ended up with a small fortune in return! That smooth talking prick phoning from above a Dutch knocking shop, with promises of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, investing in specialist shares of which little is known (principally 'cos they don't exist) is indeed a Grade A wanker.
#4 Bert the Butcher is not a financial expert... (my mate the plumber told me about this share...). If he tells you to invest in anything other than pork chops, change your butcher.
And for those who have zippo to invest and struggle with mortgages, food, hell just basically living...die young!!
Anyhoo, as the old song goes, 'always leave them laughing'(when you say goodbye)...
A guy walks into the Bank and says to the teller, ' I want to open a fuckin' current account.' The teller says, I beg your pardon, sir?' to which he replies,' look damn it, I want to open a fuckin' current account right now!' The teller says, 'Sir i'm sorry but we don't tolerate such foul language in this Bank' and she calls over the Manager. 'What seems to be the problem here Sir?' says the Manager. 'Look' says the bloke, 'there's no fuckin' problem. I just won 50 million quid in the Lottery and I want to open a fuckin' current account in this shithole Bank!' 'I see Sir', says the Manager 'and this bitch is giving you a hard time?'
Hey ho. I'm off to watch Clint rob the Bank at El Paso again...
Monday, 30 May 2011
Friday, 27 May 2011
Pissing a late fatness test...
and now, football.
Switzerland has revelled in its' preferred state of neutrality, since 1515 (or quarter past three, in old money). As such, it is generally regarded as, well...boring. Before anyone gets shirty (more on shirts later) any country that becomes (in)famous for an action man size army knife and a bar of pointy chocolate, is unlikely to feature high on the list of very funny, but controversial humour. (Ok, ok, there is Roger Federer, but he plays tennis and cries like a big girls blouse and anyway, this is loosely based on footie, so sod off).That though, was yesterday. Today...step forward, Joseph Sepp Blatter.
For those not in the know, Joe is El Presidente of FIFA (The International Federation of Avarice). In June, he'll have been top dog some 11 years (about 2.5 times the term for aggravated assault) and despite being roundly regarded by anyone outside the arselicking footballing hierarchy as about as much use as a slip-on football boot, is seeking re-election until at least an exhumation order is granted on his cold dead corpse. Incidentally, his longevity in the post, is in no way related to the fact that his first foray into football authority, was as President of the Zurich Brown Shirts, whose annual Kristallnacht anniversary celebrations, were considered quite a thing by the Zurich elite.
Old Joe is no stranger to controversy. In 2004, he sought (and probably succeeded) to alienate himself from the female football loving fraternity, by suggesting they 'wear tighter shorts and low-cut shirts, to create a more female aesthetic', sadly a proposal that was only adopted by David Beckham.
Further, after awarding the 2022 tournament to Qatar (previously only known to followers of the beautiful game, as inflammation of mucous membranes, especially of the nose and throat) Mr B suggested that gay fans (additional explanations of that term for followers of Millwall FC, will appear in future postings) should refrain from any sexual activities, what with such tom(dick and harry)foolery being frowned upon in Arabic circles. Seriously, did he watch any of the last World Cup? There were more than a few occasions where buggery was becoming a serious probable diversion...or is that perversion?
Anyhoo, it appears that his worst crime (pending the current investigation) was to be implicit in not awarding Englandshire the World Cup in 2018. Not the tournament you understand, but the actual trophy. Instead, it was awarded to those pesky Russians and as my Great Uncle Alfie used to say, ' you can't trust those fuckin arseholes'. It later emerged that he was referring to the English, but you get my drift.
So bringing us right up to speed, The Great Blattsby is now under an ethics investigation for prior knowledge of presumably illegal cash payments being made to some committee members. Brown envelopes passing about amongst fat cats?!? Whoever heard of such a thing?!?
In a yet to be officially announced sensational development, a rumour is in circulation, that the story/accusation was conjured up by BBC bosses, as an excuse (as if they fucking needed one) to show highlights of the 1966 World Cup Final, as a precursor to an article on the whole sorry mess.
In any event, if found guilty, not only will Blattwurst be in permanent disgrace, but he will also be sentenced to 10 years in Belgium. That'll teach the 'fat, repugnant, duplicitous, self-obsessed perjurer', which by remarkable coincidence, happens to be an anagram of Sepp Blatter.
Funny old game...
Switzerland has revelled in its' preferred state of neutrality, since 1515 (or quarter past three, in old money). As such, it is generally regarded as, well...boring. Before anyone gets shirty (more on shirts later) any country that becomes (in)famous for an action man size army knife and a bar of pointy chocolate, is unlikely to feature high on the list of very funny, but controversial humour. (Ok, ok, there is Roger Federer, but he plays tennis and cries like a big girls blouse and anyway, this is loosely based on footie, so sod off).That though, was yesterday. Today...step forward, Joseph Sepp Blatter.
For those not in the know, Joe is El Presidente of FIFA (The International Federation of Avarice). In June, he'll have been top dog some 11 years (about 2.5 times the term for aggravated assault) and despite being roundly regarded by anyone outside the arselicking footballing hierarchy as about as much use as a slip-on football boot, is seeking re-election until at least an exhumation order is granted on his cold dead corpse. Incidentally, his longevity in the post, is in no way related to the fact that his first foray into football authority, was as President of the Zurich Brown Shirts, whose annual Kristallnacht anniversary celebrations, were considered quite a thing by the Zurich elite.
Old Joe is no stranger to controversy. In 2004, he sought (and probably succeeded) to alienate himself from the female football loving fraternity, by suggesting they 'wear tighter shorts and low-cut shirts, to create a more female aesthetic', sadly a proposal that was only adopted by David Beckham.
Further, after awarding the 2022 tournament to Qatar (previously only known to followers of the beautiful game, as inflammation of mucous membranes, especially of the nose and throat) Mr B suggested that gay fans (additional explanations of that term for followers of Millwall FC, will appear in future postings) should refrain from any sexual activities, what with such tom(dick and harry)foolery being frowned upon in Arabic circles. Seriously, did he watch any of the last World Cup? There were more than a few occasions where buggery was becoming a serious probable diversion...or is that perversion?
Anyhoo, it appears that his worst crime (pending the current investigation) was to be implicit in not awarding Englandshire the World Cup in 2018. Not the tournament you understand, but the actual trophy. Instead, it was awarded to those pesky Russians and as my Great Uncle Alfie used to say, ' you can't trust those fuckin arseholes'. It later emerged that he was referring to the English, but you get my drift.
So bringing us right up to speed, The Great Blattsby is now under an ethics investigation for prior knowledge of presumably illegal cash payments being made to some committee members. Brown envelopes passing about amongst fat cats?!? Whoever heard of such a thing?!?
In a yet to be officially announced sensational development, a rumour is in circulation, that the story/accusation was conjured up by BBC bosses, as an excuse (as if they fucking needed one) to show highlights of the 1966 World Cup Final, as a precursor to an article on the whole sorry mess.
In any event, if found guilty, not only will Blattwurst be in permanent disgrace, but he will also be sentenced to 10 years in Belgium. That'll teach the 'fat, repugnant, duplicitous, self-obsessed perjurer', which by remarkable coincidence, happens to be an anagram of Sepp Blatter.
Funny old game...
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Things we know that we don't know...(with no apologies to D H Rumsfeld)
One thing i've noticed as the ageing process creeps inexorably over my being, is that when it comes to politics and the media, I just don't know who the fuck to believe any more. I know, I didn't mean to set sail on the good ship HMS Politicia, it's just that I heard an interesting radio article today about a little dust-up between The Murdoch Machine and arch climatology bore, Albert Arnold Gore (you can call me Al...source:Paul Simon).
Frankly, there is no referee, umpire, arbiter, etc, etc, qualified to judge who's spilling the truth beans between these two. Darth Murdoch and his yessir I can boogie men, have pretty much got Mediaville in their giant kangaroo pouch and Al...well he was Vice Prez of the US under Billy Bubba Clinton (surely one of the planets most successful post-coital liars in history) and then lost out to Dubya (there really is nothing left to say about that pavement turd). What is undeniable about both of their respective positions however, is surely the sheer volume of porkies they seem hellbound to spout.
In short, Gore has a little venture called Current TV (viewers Sid & Doris Bonkers) and Murdoch is giving it the heave-ho. Gore says it's because they've hired some liberal politics news anchor called Keith Olbermann. Although Keith has an Aryanish surname that makes me think he's fresh out of the Bolivian jungle after experimenting with blue dye in childrens eyes, it appears his motives may more innocuous and he's simply hired to stir up some more sensational contemporary revelations and Murdoch says it's to do with money (who'd have thunk it) and pish viewing figures. Anyhoo, it's all getting very heated (bit like the planet eh, Al?) and the whole debacle is just a microcosm of the political and media circus, bringing me back to my point about who the hell you believe. Sure, this charade is about as important as who was the first astronaut to fart in his spacesuit, but there are innumerable major issues out there that we all care about 'cos they impact on us. Every one of these 'politmedians' has his or her own agenda, which seems to outweigh simply telling us the truth more often than not.
So in conclusion, at the risk of sounding too melodramatic (it's my blog and if I want to inject a little false pathos, get over it) we are my friends, all just smoking beagles and whilst the rich become oligarchs and the liars pick up obscene sums for public speaking engagements, the beagles cough up phlegm and wither on the vine, because they can't afford decent healthcare...
Frankly, there is no referee, umpire, arbiter, etc, etc, qualified to judge who's spilling the truth beans between these two. Darth Murdoch and his yessir I can boogie men, have pretty much got Mediaville in their giant kangaroo pouch and Al...well he was Vice Prez of the US under Billy Bubba Clinton (surely one of the planets most successful post-coital liars in history) and then lost out to Dubya (there really is nothing left to say about that pavement turd). What is undeniable about both of their respective positions however, is surely the sheer volume of porkies they seem hellbound to spout.
In short, Gore has a little venture called Current TV (viewers Sid & Doris Bonkers) and Murdoch is giving it the heave-ho. Gore says it's because they've hired some liberal politics news anchor called Keith Olbermann. Although Keith has an Aryanish surname that makes me think he's fresh out of the Bolivian jungle after experimenting with blue dye in childrens eyes, it appears his motives may more innocuous and he's simply hired to stir up some more sensational contemporary revelations and Murdoch says it's to do with money (who'd have thunk it) and pish viewing figures. Anyhoo, it's all getting very heated (bit like the planet eh, Al?) and the whole debacle is just a microcosm of the political and media circus, bringing me back to my point about who the hell you believe. Sure, this charade is about as important as who was the first astronaut to fart in his spacesuit, but there are innumerable major issues out there that we all care about 'cos they impact on us. Every one of these 'politmedians' has his or her own agenda, which seems to outweigh simply telling us the truth more often than not.
So in conclusion, at the risk of sounding too melodramatic (it's my blog and if I want to inject a little false pathos, get over it) we are my friends, all just smoking beagles and whilst the rich become oligarchs and the liars pick up obscene sums for public speaking engagements, the beagles cough up phlegm and wither on the vine, because they can't afford decent healthcare...
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Pond Life...
Who'd be a politician, eh? Yes, they're mostly shit..in it for themselves..ego-maniacs..duplicitous..(by the way, stop me when I get one wrong) but they are remarkably, disturbingly, interesting. Even to those of us who are not politically 'aware'.
Today on the news, I saw Newton Gingrich for the first time. Sure, i've heard of him..you don't forgot a name like Newt..but i've never actually seen him. Apparently, he fancies his chances as the next Prez of the good ol' US of A. At 68, apart from anything else, he's a step in the wrong direction on the age front. He also looks a bit like Jim Kirk being called up for one last Enterprise gig. Further, he brings all the statutory baggage...a mad shagging past, third wife and the gravitas that comes from leading impeachment proceedings against Clinton for his very own 'Blowathon' with the fragrant Monica, whilst simultaneously having an extra marital humping session of his own with the devout Cathoilc, Callista, some 23 years his junior. Kudos, baby!
And finally, this man is no slouch when it comes to what one might call, 'Rumsfeldisms'. Here's a peach... 'a mere 40 years ago, beach volleyball was just beginning. No bureaucrat would have invented it and that's what freedom is all about'. Excuse me?!?
Just when you thought that the world couldn't get any more fuckin' crazy, arise Sir Newt. Seriously, if the Yanks even give this guy a whiff of the Presidency, call me a cab boy...
Today on the news, I saw Newton Gingrich for the first time. Sure, i've heard of him..you don't forgot a name like Newt..but i've never actually seen him. Apparently, he fancies his chances as the next Prez of the good ol' US of A. At 68, apart from anything else, he's a step in the wrong direction on the age front. He also looks a bit like Jim Kirk being called up for one last Enterprise gig. Further, he brings all the statutory baggage...a mad shagging past, third wife and the gravitas that comes from leading impeachment proceedings against Clinton for his very own 'Blowathon' with the fragrant Monica, whilst simultaneously having an extra marital humping session of his own with the devout Cathoilc, Callista, some 23 years his junior. Kudos, baby!
And finally, this man is no slouch when it comes to what one might call, 'Rumsfeldisms'. Here's a peach... 'a mere 40 years ago, beach volleyball was just beginning. No bureaucrat would have invented it and that's what freedom is all about'. Excuse me?!?
Just when you thought that the world couldn't get any more fuckin' crazy, arise Sir Newt. Seriously, if the Yanks even give this guy a whiff of the Presidency, call me a cab boy...
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Tuesday's Gone...
or not, actually. If you're perusing this blogette of mine, it means you didn't succumb to the finality of a 'Camping' holiday...Harry Camping, to be precise. Yes, the 89 year old American fruitloop who pronounced that the apocalypse was indeed upon us. In case you missed the last ever earthquake, it happened earlier today. As the great Linus Van Pelt once said, 'the world can't end today, because it's already tomorrow in some other countries.' Hey ho.
Whilst my little restaurant didn't have the most stellar of Saturdays, it never quite felt like the end of the world. So pleasingly (depending on your view of the current parlous state of global economics) it appears that God had a prior engagement - maybe dental work - so doomsday will keep.
From old Harry's perspective though, technically it's hard to dispel the notion that Armageddon is already under way. It's just more that the planet is fast becoming financially, as well as morally bankrupt. I don't want to get too down, what with us already having dodged a bullet, it's just that this feels like a practice run for a catastrophe. Still with my stiff upper lip (and little else with such rigidity) i'll march stoically on, safe in the knowledge that we're all in this together..the last words I believe of General George Custer in 1876, before a brief skirmish with Brave Bear, in which he came off slightly worse.
Anyhoo, on Planet Rock today, I heard a version of the great Lynryd Skynryd song 'Tuesday's Gone' (from their first album) by Metallica. Now the Skyn had more than their fair share of hardship and tragedy, which tenuously links in with my rather doomladen meanderings. The Metallica effort is pretty cool and I might have liked it even more, had I never heard the original, which is perfection. So if their only reason for doing it, was as a homage to the Skyn, that's ok, but if it was for any other reason, kiss my buns boys and tootle off back to heavy metal central...
Now where did I put my 'End of the World is Nigh' sandwich board...
Whilst my little restaurant didn't have the most stellar of Saturdays, it never quite felt like the end of the world. So pleasingly (depending on your view of the current parlous state of global economics) it appears that God had a prior engagement - maybe dental work - so doomsday will keep.
From old Harry's perspective though, technically it's hard to dispel the notion that Armageddon is already under way. It's just more that the planet is fast becoming financially, as well as morally bankrupt. I don't want to get too down, what with us already having dodged a bullet, it's just that this feels like a practice run for a catastrophe. Still with my stiff upper lip (and little else with such rigidity) i'll march stoically on, safe in the knowledge that we're all in this together..the last words I believe of General George Custer in 1876, before a brief skirmish with Brave Bear, in which he came off slightly worse.
Anyhoo, on Planet Rock today, I heard a version of the great Lynryd Skynryd song 'Tuesday's Gone' (from their first album) by Metallica. Now the Skyn had more than their fair share of hardship and tragedy, which tenuously links in with my rather doomladen meanderings. The Metallica effort is pretty cool and I might have liked it even more, had I never heard the original, which is perfection. So if their only reason for doing it, was as a homage to the Skyn, that's ok, but if it was for any other reason, kiss my buns boys and tootle off back to heavy metal central...
Now where did I put my 'End of the World is Nigh' sandwich board...
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