Thursday, December 14, 2006

In The Year 2056
I admit I don't live the most healthy of lifestyles I don't eat well I don't excercise nearly as much as I'd like to but I would like to hope that I can get fitter and live a better life some time soon because I'd like to live another forty maybe even fifty years. However I'm not so sure if nobody can give me a guarantee that in fifty years they still won't be talking about and making programmes about Princess - fucking - Diana!
Get over it folks. She's dead and she died in A CAR ACCIDENT No conspiracies, no plot a plain ordinary car accident. And she wasn't a saint she was a big nosed skinny vacuous ya with a penchant for hairy medallion men.
Next year is going to be a nightmare the 10th anniversary of "Old Boney's" death the papers, the TV, the radio, Theatre will all be full of it. In shops, factories, brothels and gay fetish clubs there will be constant chatter about it. I may have to audition for Big Brother just in the hope of avoiding it.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Public Transport The Microcosm
Buses have been on my mind a lot recently. Since my accident with the broken glass and developing a very nasty chest infection I've spent less time on Shanks' Pony and more time riding on the Maroon and White dragons (not a drug reference by the way I just mean LRT buses).
Buses are a very democratic form of transport almost all stratas of society at some time or other travel by bus. Buses also give you time to think, to cogitate on the problems of the world or perhaps, just to think to yourself "if that bloke in front doesn't stop sniffing and blow his nose I'm going to hit him on the head with my Metro".
In the last few weeks I've seen a woman with a moustache so fulsome she only needs a Top Hat and she could be tying a young woman to some railway tracks. I've seen the worlds most serious six year old. Never mind Pokemon - or whatever the young tykes are into these days give this child some Monster Munch and a copy of Proust and he'd be happy as Larry*. I've seen so many teenagers who are, as my friend Angry of Murrayfield would say, "fist magnets" and of course I've been privy to peoples most private conversations. I tend to get slightly different buses every day so it's been a little like watching a soap opera but never seeing the end of the storyline. I'll never know if Mags ever did get that rash checked out by the doctor. I'll be none the wiser as to whether Kay chose Tommy or Gary or continued to get -and I quote- "pumped by baith o' them". I'll probably go to my grave with no Idea whether Graham got that promotion, but whats life without a little mystery.
However I can't end this little blog without some properly curmudeonly comments regarding bus travel.
Firstly in Winter you wrap yourself up warmly to protect you from the elements but when you get on the bus the heating has been cranked up so you can't breath added to the combined heat of eighty odd (some of them very odd) bodies it's like being in an native american sweat lodge without the inspiring visions.
Secondly they seem to have hired some of the drivers straight off the Grand Prix circuit as three times in the last three weeks I've seen drivers shoot past a stop without checking if anyone is waiting. Why do they do this? Where is it they have to go? Do they have some form of Cannonball Run style competition to take part in where points are added for the number of people they don't take on board. God forbid you make any protest about this because I've twice jumped up and down and made gestures to bus drivers in the past who then stopped and threatened me with violence.
Anyway that's all I have time for on the subject as I've got a bus to catch - did you see what I did there?
*Who may or may not be a Sandboy.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Speed Rant 2 (The one without Keanu and with a big slow boat)
Couldn't think of a single topic to rant about and yet I had an itching to rant about something. So here I am with another short(ish) collection of things which have got up my nose recently:
People who wear hats indoors. Unless you have recently undergone chemotherapy then there really is no justification and in addition let me add that recent studies have determined that only three percent of the adult male population look good in a beanie and you are not one of them.
Kid's TV presenters who make feeble puns and then justify them by saying things like: "Well it is Friday or Well it is Saturday Morning". What kind of excuse is that? If I went round town tomorrow punching people would it be ok to say "Well it is Sunday after all".
Fern Britton. Hateful hateful bag of lard.
Those people who say "I've never watched a Black & White/Subtitled movie as if it's something to be proud of. Why don't they just stand in the street and shout hello I'm Bob the happy moron.
Finally on this short tour around the hate filled swamp of my mind:
Old people. Not I hasten to add all old people, no some of them are charming it just the ones I've had to contend with this week. You see a few days ago I stepped on some broken glass leaving a 10p sized gash in my foot, so since then I have been limping quite badly (although I think I do it spectacularly) and I have had to take the bus. Whilst on the bus I have chosen to sit in the seat set aside for the elderly and disabled because - and follow this it's smart thinking - I am temporarily dis-abled. However do the wrinkly, touser soiling, yellow skinned gits see this? No they just see someone younger than them sitting on their seat and give me the stink eye. The most annoying thing is I am one of the decent few who give up their seat to the elderly and try if at all possible not to sit in those seats so as not to inconvenience them. Still they'll be dead soon mind you so will I if I keep being quite as accident prone as I appear to be. Yours in Memento Mori Neil.