Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

But occasionally, a glimmer of truth.
If you find one, please let me know.

Wednesday 28 August 2019


Whether we leave with or without
A deal, in the grand scheme of things
Matters little.

We are here for spit. Like a leaf
Upon a branch, upon a bush.
Come wintertime, it falls.
To be regrown in spring.

Our children might in future
Rejoin. And maybe, not.
We do not know what comes.
We only know what has gone before.

Time, like an arrow, moves
Unerringly, relentlessly, forward.
Fruit flies, inevitably
Like a banana.

Cider is nice.

Monday 5 November 2018


Here is what I think.

You don't have to think it, nor do you have to agree with it. It's what I think.

I want to say it. You don't have to read it.

Next Sunday marks the end of World War One. World War One, the Great War, was probably best described in the Blackadder Goes Forth TV programme.

Times were different then. We (the Noble Britons) were sitting here minding our own business, having invaded everything worth invading, and all of a sudden there was a WAR. The Germans, mainly. I am sure that the brave Tommies (no, not that idiot) were being patriotic. They were doing their "duty". They were defending us from whatever the evil was that was upon us.

Sadly, there were those brave Tommies. but also there were Ruperts, bravely issuing orders from the safety of their HQs for the braves to march to their certain deaths.

The higher up the tree you went the less chance you had of being brutally mutilated.

There was then another War. World War Two. Germany again, the buggers.

Same stuff but with more technology and bigger bangs.

War is shit.

Anyway, this is the unpopular bit. Us Noble Britons have an Army. They couldn't really fight off much in the way of Nukes, nor any decent power such as The You Ess Of Ay. Or Russia. You can argue, but you'll lose.

We try to be nice to folk who would beat us. Then we do marching. And we do Pomp And Circumstance better than many.

My point, though, is this.

There are two kinds of Armed Forces folk. One is the Public School Rupert who couldn't make it as an Estate Agent. The other is the Sec Mod Tommy who couldn't make it as a milkman.

And now you all hate me.

And you know what? I don't care. I will never forget that day when I, as a young and impressionable Plod, scraped this lad out of a doorway, holding up a sign saying "I am deaf", after he had been beaten to within an inch of his life by squaddies from 2 Para, on a weekend off. At least three of them. Because they thought it was big and clever.

Fuck those people.

I shall remember those brave and noble folk, from a very different time, and be grateful that they died, mainly in vain, for us to be here today. RIP, you lads and lasses; at the going of the sun, and in the morning, I will remember you. Thank you so much.

Tuesday 24 April 2018


C Geeks ... why does this say "... MVAP=0 ..." when it clearly isn't?

I'm either pissed from last night or I just can't see properly.


Wednesday 11 April 2018


As I totally nailed it yesterday, here is my amazing corned beef hash recipe.


Two onions, chopped up fairly small.
Two green peppers, chopped into largish chunks, seeds in, stalks and cores out.
Large spud, peeled and chopped up in large chunks.
Tin of corned beef, chopped into 16 lumps.
Veg oil (not engine).
Worcestershire sauce, one big splosh.


Boil spuds, turn off as soon as they have. Do not drain spuds, yet.

Mix peppers and onion and oil and Worcestershire Sauce and heat as low as can be for an hour. Really. An hour. With the lid on, stirring if they stick.

Drain now-cold spuds and add to stuff.

Heat until spuds are hot (about 5-10 minutes) on REALLY LOW.

Add corned beef for about 5 minutes, stirring a bit, as it disintegrates.



Thursday 14 December 2017


I have two friends.

One of them works on a farm and he gets paid by the farmer.

One of them doesn't work, but I get him to do jobs for me and give him some money.

They live in my house.

The one who works on a farm pays me some of the money that the farmer gives him.

The one who does some jobs for me doesn't pay me. That's fine, because he does some jobs for me.

I guess everyone thinks that's fair? I hope so. I think it is.


I have another option. I can pay the one who does jobs for me as much extra as the farm worker pays me. Then he can give me it back.

That would be equally fair, but fairly stupid from both our points of view.


Unrelated, people who work for the government think they pay tax in the same way as ordinary people do. Same goes for people on benefits.

I'm saying nothing.

Thursday 9 November 2017


This might be a bit niche.

It was funny to me.

I was in a room with the boss today, and he suggested that we might develop the next generation of a product that we make. He asked me what I thought.

I said to him that I thought that the only problem that we'd have is in the decisions as to the way it was done. I said that I thought that it would end up being driven by people who really didn't understand the market, the customers, the requirements, and who would overrule any sensible development decisions that we might otherwise take.

He smiled, and said:

"I'm pretty sure they'll let me me make the decisions on all aspects of this."

I looked at him, askance. I nodded, slowly.

The smile disappeared from his face. Imperceptibly slowly.

It was replaced by a look of realisation.

Thursday 12 October 2017


At the risk of upsetting at least everyone, God, and his dog, I feel I must say this.

Please bear with me, or fuck off, I don't honestly care which if your name isn't Julie.

There was a referendum, recentylyish. It was about whether the "people" wanted to stay in the EU. It was brought about because politicians didn't have the bollocks to do anything else, and UKIP (wankers) said if they got in, then they would do it.

David "Pigfucker" Cameron did it, then went balls-out to tell people to vote "NO", which they didn't, because they didn't like him.

They lost. And Brexit happened. And Pigfucker lost his job.

I didn't vote. I never do. I don't like to encourage the wankers.

I don't actually care, I don't value money much, I have enough of it to live on. I don't make money out of money and despise people who do.

Now it's all ratshit, the pound is worth about a pound.

The new Prime Arsehole, Ms May, has had a sodding election, she basically lost.

Now they're having another fucking referendum in case they win. Lose. Whatevs.

Please stop me saddling up the gnus and running amok.

And stop voting. Please do that.