The wires. Those coming in the top are as thick as a man's leg.
The Amps.
The brains.
The Power.
The Penguin.
That was my day. How was your day?
Thursday, 5 July 2012
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
What did you do today?
I drove 90 miles to arrive here.
Then I went inside here and programmed the brain in it.
And the same in here.
Inside this thing
And pumps water out of this thing. At four cubic metres a second.
And makes these people very happy. http://kempseyflag.info/contact/flood-protection-scheme/
I love my job.
What did you do today?
Then I went inside here and programmed the brain in it.
And the same in here.
Which makes this thing turn,
Inside this thing
And pumps water out of this thing. At four cubic metres a second.
And makes these people very happy. http://kempseyflag.info/contact/flood-protection-scheme/
I love my job.
What did you do today?
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
JMHO
I was born.
Long time ago, I know. I was a kid, we did stuff. We got education. We grew up.
Some of us became engineers. Some musicians, ma'am. Some work in TESCO.
Some went to public skool and became politicians and made law. Some went to public skool and became barristers and lawyers and made money out of law.
Some became judges and they're pretty much useless cunts.
My point is this:
I was a kid, I grew up. What right do these turds have to decide my life?
I think this:
None.
Long time ago, I know. I was a kid, we did stuff. We got education. We grew up.
Some of us became engineers. Some musicians, ma'am. Some work in TESCO.
Some went to public skool and became politicians and made law. Some went to public skool and became barristers and lawyers and made money out of law.
Some became judges and they're pretty much useless cunts.
My point is this:
I was a kid, I grew up. What right do these turds have to decide my life?
I think this:
None.
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
To Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
Your most gracious Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II,
Forgive my impudence as I crave your attention to my most humble blog.
I was a very young copper in 1974, walking the beat in the mid evening in Guildford with my Sergeant.
As we walked down from the top of North Street, through a passageway, discussing the weather, as one does, there was a terrific explosion. We rushed in the direction of the noise to discover confused, bleeding people rushing from the Horse and Groom pub. The scene was covered in broken glass shards from the windows, and quite a lot of blood. Young and useless as I was, I was directed to the road junction several yards down the hill to direct traffic away from the scene. A short while later, another explosion followed and I was greeted by various body parts flying past, which I later discovered were from another pub in the passageway opposite, the Seven Stars.
Suffice to say, Your Majesty, that this was imprinted indelibly and in perpetuity upon my memory. I was detailed later to pick up any debris in order to make clear the scene, this debris including a lady's dress shoe containing part of her foot.
The deed was perpetrated by the IRA.
Your Majesty, I have nightmares to this day. I shall spare your Majesty from more detail, but I implore, nay, beseech you, not to shake the hand of that animal tomorrow.
This is my most humble plea, and I commend it to your Majesty's attention with my unfailing loyalty and respect.
Sincerely, Pengy
(name available on request)
Forgive my impudence as I crave your attention to my most humble blog.
I was a very young copper in 1974, walking the beat in the mid evening in Guildford with my Sergeant.
As we walked down from the top of North Street, through a passageway, discussing the weather, as one does, there was a terrific explosion. We rushed in the direction of the noise to discover confused, bleeding people rushing from the Horse and Groom pub. The scene was covered in broken glass shards from the windows, and quite a lot of blood. Young and useless as I was, I was directed to the road junction several yards down the hill to direct traffic away from the scene. A short while later, another explosion followed and I was greeted by various body parts flying past, which I later discovered were from another pub in the passageway opposite, the Seven Stars.
Suffice to say, Your Majesty, that this was imprinted indelibly and in perpetuity upon my memory. I was detailed later to pick up any debris in order to make clear the scene, this debris including a lady's dress shoe containing part of her foot.
The deed was perpetrated by the IRA.
Your Majesty, I have nightmares to this day. I shall spare your Majesty from more detail, but I implore, nay, beseech you, not to shake the hand of that animal tomorrow.
This is my most humble plea, and I commend it to your Majesty's attention with my unfailing loyalty and respect.
Sincerely, Pengy
(name available on request)
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Menschn.
Jesus.
I was going to stop there, but no. Look at this, by 27b/6. http://www.27bslash6.com/p2p2.html
The Chinese have been doing this since forever. No creativity, they rob everything. Sue me.
Google, the tiny, insignificant market force with a turnover not exceeding the GNP of fucking Thailand, tried to break into the market by launching Google Plus, and if the hell that can't beat facebook, there is no hope.
But Louise Mensch, a lady for whom I have the utmost personal respect, and career-wise would not give the steam off my shit, thinks that she can beat that.
Lady. Wrong. You know, I know, that I, personally, got you 100+ votes, which probably got you in. Deny it if you like.
You know what? Give them a sniff of power, and they're the same as the rest.
Louise, please. Come back. Be you again.
Jesus.
I was going to stop there, but no. Look at this, by 27b/6. http://www.27bslash6.com/p2p2.html
The Chinese have been doing this since forever. No creativity, they rob everything. Sue me.
Google, the tiny, insignificant market force with a turnover not exceeding the GNP of fucking Thailand, tried to break into the market by launching Google Plus, and if the hell that can't beat facebook, there is no hope.
But Louise Mensch, a lady for whom I have the utmost personal respect, and career-wise would not give the steam off my shit, thinks that she can beat that.
Lady. Wrong. You know, I know, that I, personally, got you 100+ votes, which probably got you in. Deny it if you like.
You know what? Give them a sniff of power, and they're the same as the rest.
Louise, please. Come back. Be you again.
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
Monday, 28 May 2012
Prescott
An open letter to Lord Prescott.
Dear John
I liked you. Before the election, we had some banter. When you lost the election, you blocked me. You were smarting from the defeat suffered at the hands of whom we now know to be worse, possibly than your lot, which really is saying something.
You know I don't like politicos. I see them as a carbuncle on the backside of humanity. But you were a bit of fun. Along with Skinner, The Beast, and a few others.
But you remember me well enough to know I can't abide hypocrisy. You said this:
"Well done to everyone who campaigned against #pastytax. Showed how out of touch the Tories are. Now let's slap that VAT on caviar!"
Come on, John. You're not thick. Your tribal lefty followers are, but I'm not partisan.I can't stand the public-school tossers either (although your leader Mr Blair, you know, the one backing you as police chief?) was. Is.
John. Vermin in Ermine, you said once. THAT was funny. Like the Beatles giving back their OBEs but accepting one quietly round the back?
PLEASE. Give the real people a bit of credit. I KNOW all you have to say is Camoron, start a daft hashtag game, and all the pond life on the planet will go with you. Such is fame, fortune (at my expense) and tribalism.
I liked the punch. I supported that. Would have done the same if someone had egged me. I have the picture, I also have the one of Pauline with the bog on her head, it's hanging in my loo. Brilliant.
Please be yourself again. Tony's a tosser, I think you secretly know that. You've got enough money. Make a name for yourself by being a proper, ordinary bloke who hasn't forgotten his roots.
Sincerely
Pengy
Dear John
I liked you. Before the election, we had some banter. When you lost the election, you blocked me. You were smarting from the defeat suffered at the hands of whom we now know to be worse, possibly than your lot, which really is saying something.
You know I don't like politicos. I see them as a carbuncle on the backside of humanity. But you were a bit of fun. Along with Skinner, The Beast, and a few others.
But you remember me well enough to know I can't abide hypocrisy. You said this:
"Well done to everyone who campaigned against #pastytax. Showed how out of touch the Tories are. Now let's slap that VAT on caviar!"
Come on, John. You're not thick. Your tribal lefty followers are, but I'm not partisan.I can't stand the public-school tossers either (although your leader Mr Blair, you know, the one backing you as police chief?) was. Is.
John. Vermin in Ermine, you said once. THAT was funny. Like the Beatles giving back their OBEs but accepting one quietly round the back?
PLEASE. Give the real people a bit of credit. I KNOW all you have to say is Camoron, start a daft hashtag game, and all the pond life on the planet will go with you. Such is fame, fortune (at my expense) and tribalism.
I liked the punch. I supported that. Would have done the same if someone had egged me. I have the picture, I also have the one of Pauline with the bog on her head, it's hanging in my loo. Brilliant.
Please be yourself again. Tony's a tosser, I think you secretly know that. You've got enough money. Make a name for yourself by being a proper, ordinary bloke who hasn't forgotten his roots.
Sincerely
Pengy
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