Bye Bye Britain

Next year, I wish to move abroad. I don't know where, and I have little idea of what the hell I will do, but I want to do it. In terms of decisions, in my mind I feel like I make them but end up going back on them fairly quickly. Now, with my new stubborn outlook on life, I feel that should change. In fact, thinking about decisions I have made in the last year, only the podcast stands out as something that hasn't happened (but that was certainly for the best - prepare yourselves for a new team member come September. I really must contact him soon).

Back to abroad - houses are cheaper for a start. Massive generalisation, I know, but for someone looking to buy their first home in Britain, it is largely impossible for many. In numerous European countries, you could have a property portfolio for the price of a small terraced here.

Salaries are often double what is paid here, in real terms, and thus the standard of living for somebody emigrating is going to be so much higher. Yes, cars cost about the same as here Europe-wide, but the fuel is ridiculously cheap, comparitively. Also, the dream utterance, 'it is cheaper to eat out than in' applies throughout Europe. I remember going to Malta in 2003, and an all-you-can-eat-and-drink was £15. Even if that has risen to £20 by now, that is incredible value for a night out. I want a pool. You don't have a pool in the UK unless it is indoors (useless) or you are a mental.

Using several networking sites like this one means even if 'moving abroad' becomes 'travelling for a bit', I have loads of European and American sofas to choose from come this time next year.

I must just remember to take the heroin out of my arse before I leave the house.

Then again, I could just go to Thailand and enjoy daily threesomes for the princely sum of £1.95.

Eastern Europe is so far behind the Western half, it feels exciting to imagine the prospect of living there and seeing it grow year-on-year. My Dad would hate that though, being a mild xenophobe. I burn like Simon Weston though, so it might be best I go there rather than the South of France.

Yes, this is all leading up to one of those rants from a drunk bloke in a pub beginning with, 'this country is going to the dogs'. The education system has been ruined, children are running amok with Anthony Worral-Thompson knives, stabbing each other wherever the metal will pierce flesh, the drug culture only seems to be worsening, drink (the drug that had it been invented today, would be illegal) is all to easy to get hold of, no matter your age. Hell, even the Polish that came here for a better life are fucking off home. What are the BNP going to do now?

I know I'll be missed by people like Paula and John, but if it is something I have to do, they'll have to put up with it.

Interesting countries? Send your visa forms to me today.

WHAT is your favourite Disney film? Mine's Aladdin.

I haven't had a drink for 25 days. I don't miss it. Yet...

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The Worst Bar In Manchester?

Now, I've only been to about five bars in Manchester in the four years I have been a drinker, yet it looks like I'll be attending The Living Room bar later this month for a 40th birthday party. Thus, after last years debacle (fifteen months ago I visited this bar for another birthday. I paid £5.60 for a single vodka and orange. The orange was poured from a carton. The vodka wasn't branded, or at least it wasn't a brand I recognised), I reckon this place could be the worst bar in Manchester. It was utterly pretentious, didn't have any draught beers or lagers and reeked of the type of 'look at me' people I loathe.

Trust me, it is full of cunts. Little prancing fairies who believe it is totally acceptable to refer to others as 'darling'. Nonces who happen to have made it big financially and are using their wealth to impress barely legal girls. People who believe Eastenders and Coronation Street to be garbage and voice opinions (taken Verbatim from the Metro) on the latest Opera to hit the city in their loudest voices. Mums and sisters who are there to pull a wealthy hedge fund manager so they can charge for a threesome. People who have stuck their mothers in the cheapest care home so they can continue to live the lifestyle they feel they must exhibit to others. Pretentious twats who feel "a weekend in Dubai is just what they need".

I have to become one of them for an evening and boy am I looking forward to it...

I wish they'd all go and do a Mark Speight.

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FAO the BBC

I have very much enjoyed your coverage of Glastonbury 2008 and concur with this guy, qouted from the Music blogs section of The Guardian's website:

"Wow, wow, wow. I went reluctantly this year (after last years mudbath) because all my mates were going and I can honestly say in nearly 10 years of going it was the best one yet."

On a completely unrelated subject, I want one of these t-shirts:



With this years line-up, Glastonbury was always going to be brilliant. So much so, that I am going to apply for tickets next year. Given the timing of the event, it will be a great weekend break before receiving my degree classification.

Dido has new material penned for her comeback later this year, and for this reason, my money is on her headlining next year's festival.

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Friday Sauciness

So I'm stuck in this timewarp here in Worsley where nothing seems to happen. Well, wrong, on two counts: number one, I went back to Blackpool today. The event itself was shitter than even I anticipated, though it was nice to converse with some of the attendees once again. Number two, I was harassed by a group of schoolgirls on my way home from the shop. It's like a fantasy come true: 'Can my mate have your number?', followed by a chorus of, 'she wants you, she loves you'. I politely declined due to their inebriated state. Oh, and the age, of course.

In other news, if anybody happens to be reading:

Man Found In Basement Covered In BBQ Sauce.

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Tennis Headline of the Day

In yesterday's Sun newspaper:

"Murray oughta slaughter that bloke from Majorca (in the quarter)"

And, in true British tennis form, he didn't.

It's a shame on a tennis Blog that I haven't featured a female tennis player. I could have said she was unseeded. Like that man-bitch Mauresmo.

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Morning

Well, I've got the news back from my Teaching application. I can't do it until September, but from then, I can do it three days a week, full-time. I might have to tone down the Maddie Blogs...

Nothing's happening here in Manchester. It's bliss.

I have a 40th birthday party to attend at the swish Living Room bar this month. Maybe I'll see more people from Shameless and fail to recognise them again.

Last time I went there, I was introduced to Hollyoaks people too. Didn't recognise them either. Tell you who I want to meet: that racist bird from Celebrity Big Brother - Danielle Lloyd. I like her. She goes there. I like her.

It is a year of parties (2). My brother's 21st is in January. What the hell do I buy him?! Suggestions more than welcome.

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Maddie - One Year On

This is intended to be a detailed look at the Madeleine McCann case, and the series of events which occured as a result of Kate doing her in. Of course, as illustrated by that last sentence, I'm just going to get myself banned from this site with some of the stuff I intend to say. First off, let's begin with some jokes:

Q: Whats the difference between Maddie and a Boomerang?
A: Boomerangs come back

Q: What have Maddie and Houdini got in common?
A: They both disappear and they're both dead

Q: What's tanned and really, really happy?
A: A Portuguese Paedophile

Q: How much does a meal at your favourite Portugese tapas restaraunt cost?
A: Your child

Lovely. They're all worth a snigger aren't they? The last one is best, though. So, Maddie is undoubtedly dead. And to think I thought the kidnappers would return her upon finding she supported Everton.

Now, when the story broke, it was clear she was going to be dead. She is a blond-haired, white, English girl, with a distinctive mark on her right eye, known to billions of people worldwide within 48 hours of the news coming in. Of course the 'napper killed her. Although they probably did have their wicked way with her first, then cleaned her up, shagged her again, diced her into small pieces, put her in a blender, then poured her down the nearest drain. One pureed child: done.

The most interesting part of the whole debacle is of course the fact that 'the Nation' is still on stage one of the 'kids getting nicked' scale. Stage two is mourning, when the body is found. Stage three is getting rid of the paraphenalia, in this case, the yellow ribbons. Stage four is joining in with all the sickos who made jokes within hours of the story breaking. Because we are in stage one, people still get tetchy about stuff like this. If you are one of them, please, do read on.

Distributing yellow ribbons to help the cause was a bad idea. I've lost mine. Oh, the irony. Also, yellow shovels would have been far more apt. Do these people not think?!

Surely The Sun should have focused on stories such as that at the time of the abduction? Or is it because the gran was closer to death anyway? Three stabs = 1p. Not a great return at all, but when you need to buy The Sun, you'll do anything to see those tits.

I'm sorry, but I struggle to feel empathy for people I have never met, nor will I ever meet. It's part of the reason I struggle to read fiction. It's partly why I loathe films or television with elements of fantasy. Make it as real as possible, and there is a small chance I will empathise with the characters. The English are famed for their ability to draw black humour from the most hideous of cases. But that's rubbish to me, I don't need to justify myself - I can't alter my sense of humour. I like sick!

Feeling empathy for parents who felt it necessary to leave their kids alone for hours while dining in a tapas bar is not something on my to-do list, I'm afraid. You give up the right to go out and drink for five years when you have a child. You'll never get those years back anyway, so spend that time with them.

The McCann's are abstract to me, at least until I meet them. So are the fictional characters in my latest attempt to read fiction (Dan Brown's Digital Fortress). I don't understand this press pressure that I should feel more empathy for Maddie than a dying elderly relative, a street kid making textiles for 7p an hour, a child soldier in Iraq, our troops in Afghanistan or any other victim of crime I see on the news every day. The fact remains that missing kids are fairer game than dead ones - there's always a little chance they might be found.

The Kooks did a benefit gig for the Maddie Fund. I wonder how much that gig raised... I think it would have been far better for all of us if we'd have sent The Kooks out there to try and find her. They'd still be looking now, so that's a start. I hope they checked in their guitar cases, kids can get into the tightest of spaces. Or is that mice? I went to see The Kooks once, but in my defence, I was dragged there by a moron. Charity funds also annoy me, or more to the point, the people that donate to the charity funds annoy me. Millions went to the Asian Tsunami Appeal. A couple of quid went to the Pakistan Earthquake Appeal. Something is wrong there.

The fact that the McCann's are a middle-class couple shouldn't be ignored either. If they were of the working variety, the public reaction would have been very different. Nonetheless, of course I have some compassion - none of them deserved this, especially Maddie. Her parents weren't to know that leaving her alone would result in her disappearance (although the chances are higher). Still, at least they have a fair amount of cash for babysitters now.

There is a time and place for humour directed at subject matter such as this, and I think one year on is perfect. One year on, and people start to forget. I bet more and more 'outraged' parents are now leaving their kids at home as they trundle to the nearest karaoke bar for a night of binge drinking. I can imagine the Mary Whitehouse-types reading this now, rocking backwards and forwards, maybe a little drool dropping from their mouth as they chant, 'ban this filth' repeatedly.

Gerry has travelled the world on the Maddie Fund proceeds. It sure beats having to rush your tapas on a summer's evening, doesn't it? Flying home to pick up a big cheque every so often? I don't know how Gerry got himself through the crisis. The twins are loving all of the activity, particularly as they now have a bedroom each. 'Babysitter Aid' (as endorsed by Geldof) looks increasingly likely now.

I see the McCann's as media maipulators, neglectful and selfish. It's the innocent child (no wanking at the back, Langham) I can sympathise with. Still, you would, wouldn't you?:



I don't know why she's looking so miserable in that picture.

If I saw Maddie tomorrow (you may think that's unlikely...), I wouldn't tell them I saw her. I'd sell the sighting to a paper, just as they've sold their souls to the press. Let me illustrate what two years on an English degree course have taught me:

There was a young girl named Maddie
She had a neglectful Daddy
Taken from her bed
She's definitely dead
Shagged to death by a baddy

T-shirts of the above are for sale at the front of the theatre. Another good 'un:

Mandela, Mandela
Are you listening?
Where's my Mars Bar?
Eh?

There once was a blond named Maddie
Who was taken by a paedo baddy
The press went insane
As she was poured down a drain
And a big cheque waited for Daddy

Why, oh why, did Kate and Gerry go to meet the Pope? Don't they know god doesn't exist? If they don't know that, they shouldn't be having kids. They culd argue that they wanted to get into the mind of a paedophile. There's no better community than the Catholic Church. I reckon the Pope felt guilty - he raped and killed Maddie. It's obvious. I am Columbo. He probably believes all five year olds are gagging for cock. Well, it's as good a theory as that one about god. What's the point in giving a picture of her to the Pope? I can pretty much guarantee he doesn't get out much.

If the parents of Maddie are looking for a babysitter, I can recommend Jonathan King. That's the kind of advice they may take, which is worrying. What's next?  A range of Maddie dolls, all missing their heads, for added authenticity? Halloween contact lenses?

What the fuck happened to this, the one good reason to kill 40 musicians? I hate the way the country rallies behind efforts to find a little girl - what the fuck are you doing? Putting a poster in your window? As if people haven't heard of her? Go out and look round your block. If everyone did that, we would have had her back within two hours. I'm waiting for the statue to be erected or at least the flowers to be laid somewhere.

Kate should duet with Lisa Stansfield on that song that goes, 'been around the world and I-I-I-I-I can't find my baby'. I'd do Stansfield as well, despite her being a Northern. How about an album of hits? Kid Creole - Maddie, I'm Not Your Daddy, Rod Stewart - Maddie May (Be Found Dead In A Swamp), Bonnie Tyler - Lost In Portugal, The Chi-Lites - Have You Seen Her?, UB40 - Baby Come Back, Foreigner - Waiting For A Girl Like You, The Drifters - Under The Boardwalk (You'll Find Her Decomposed Body). With that kind of line-up they can fly around the world and visit all the places little Maddie wanted to visit. Oh...

Gerry and Kate McCann are not victims - they were neglegent, pure and simple. The only victim was Maddie. They've raked in the cash, done more TV than Jimmy Carr and no doubt will release a book in time for Christmas. Then one of those 'collect one a week' magazines with a free binder with part one. First issue just 99p, (then £8.99, all proceeds go towards a decent babysitter, or a few pints for Gerry - he'll leave the light on for the kids). What about a recipe book? 'The meal so good it is worth losing your daughter for'.

It's stuff like this that is driving paedos to nick people's kids. Still, at least Bernard Manning died while all of this was going on. I don't think I could put up with his insensitive witterings on the subject of Maddie... How many people were arrested as part of the investigation? Two? Three? Sky had that fucking section dedicated to the little minx - when you implement something like that, when do you take it down? It's admitting defeat, isn't it? ITV's Forums were an absolute goldmine for reading nutters opinions on Maddie.

This psychic twat claims to know that Maddie is alive. Tell you what, I'll give you my own 'psychic' predictions: Maddie is dead. She's probably been fisted to high heaven, then used as an oven glove. Oooh, then look at the next instalment in 'Psychic Twat'.

I'm surprised Maddie hasn't turned up on Big Brother yet. Now that would be a real ratings winner.

I've got to put a link, in the interests of balance: Find Madeleine (if you want). An anagram of 'Maddie' is 'I'm dead'.  Send a cheque to somewhere and I'll do a better job of finding it than you.

Today, Maddie was still on page nine of The Mirror, and page 8 of The Sun.

Why are all kidnapped kids shown wearing football kits? Do the press not know what a girl in a football shirt does to a guy?



If I had a daughter with an eye like that, the music from The Omen would be perpetually going round in my head. She'd have to go.



I'd have the second lot for two reasons: they supported United and it's a threesome.

Course, the whole media frenzy is down to Missing White Woman Syndrome. It couldn't be more of a Deviancy Amplification Spiral. I've looked behind the sofa everyday for Maddie since she disappeared. Come to think of it, the smell in the garage has been increasing since I moved here.

I think until we find an effective way of searching the bottom of the ocean, we'll never find Maddie. Either that or she really does deserve the International Hide and Seek Champion 2007/08 Award.

Diana was another example of mass hysteria amongst 'the Nation'. Let's kick her while she's down with a gag:

Q: What's the difference between Diana and Michael Hutchence?
A: Michael Hutchence wore his belt.

And, just to complete the story arc of this Blog, here's my reason for posting this today.

There's always light at the tunnel, except if you're Diana.

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New five Game Show?

five must be short of ideas, judging by the newspaper headlines of the last few days. I think they're developing a new game show for the captive daytime market:

"John Leslie Rape Quiz".

If given the go ahead, I reckon Anthea Turner would be a great host, with Ulrika Jonsson as the prize hostess, parading the brand new washing machines and white goods.

Or maybe Ulrika could be the prize herself?

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Right To Fair Trial?

Maybe there will be a time when the government could do away with trials and allow, let's say seven, weeks of detention without informing the accused of the accusations against them? This would make things ridiculousy easy to control - there'd be no intimidation of witnesses for a start, as the accused wouldn't have a clue what they were supposed to have done.

Seems stupid, no? Surely there's no way a Western government would want to implement something like that?

Here's an idea - just ship suspects off to 'a location' away from normal civilisation until they have been beaten and abused so badly they'll admit to anything, even if they have lived the life of a good Christian. Surely no Western government would want to implement something like that?

I'm thinking Jamaica. They certainly wouldn't be going of their own accord...

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Friday

What are your plans for the weekend?

Mine? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Aside from writing, sending emails and tending to the garden. I've become a member of the blue-rinse brigade, and I like it.

I haven't had an alcoholic drink for two weeks now. Actually, it is two weeks and one day. I'm holding out until September, although I fear I may have to drink a beer in celebration of a 'you've-barely-passed-by-the-skin-of-your-teeth' results letter from college. Which, judging from what I have heard, may mean I got a high-70.

In this house of which I will live for one year, the garage is kitted out to resemble a Bannatyne's gymnasium. Yesterday, a ceiling-hang punchbag was installed. I have been enjoying that.

Apparently, there is a rental crisis going on at the moment - an average of 50 people are applying for the same flats/houses up and down the country. The thing that annoys me is, if they'd all just get together, they could each apply for their own house. All this in the midst of the credit crunch. Despite the rising cost of living, it remains popular.

I have an interview for a job in Blackpool next week, and an interview for a job in Walkden this week. I want both. I think I need to pretend I'm Michael Douglas in Falling Down, then I'll definitely get the job(s).

I went to Manchester City Centre last week. It rained. I got wet. The train station for travelling to college from September is miles away. I'm going to be soaked everyday before I even get on the train. Well, it is Manchester.

09:17 - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment