Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

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

Tuesday, 27 January 2015


Holocaust Day.

This is what I understand of history from reading stuff and seeing it happen again.

Hitler was a Fuhrer (which means "guide" in German) and wanted to take over the world because some people like that kind of thing.

At the time, Germany was in deep doodoo financially, to the point that people were having to buy wheelbarrows to take their pay home, the Deutschmark being worth less than the paper it was printed on. And the wheelbarrow was worth more than the pay.

When this happens, folk turn to anyone who can offer a "better" solution to their problems than the people currently offering a solution.

But, in order to unify the people, a Fuhrer had to find someone to blame. In America it was the black folk, otherwise known as N......s.

Hitler didn't have access to enough black folk on which to blame the country's ills. He could've gone for folk with moustaches, chaps who wore hats, gay folk, actors, drummers or bus drivers, but again, they didn't number enough to really take the blame.

Poland is a big country. And it's next door to Germany, and pretty easy to invade as well. And it was full of, guess what, Jews!

And Jews tended to run banks, and were well-known (and have been throughout history) for being money men. And the problem was money. So, clever old Hitler twisted the plot a bit, convinced all the folk that the Jews were the problem, got "elected", then realised that he'd pointed the finger and now people expected him to act,

I don't think Hitler could've believed that the Jews were the problem. But he was a convincing bastard, and I suspect his Generals did. And they all went Heil Hitler, mein Fuhrer, and got stuck in.

After that I think it just got out of hand.

That's how I see it. This isn't fact, I'm not a historian. Nor am I anti-semitic. It's your nose, not mine. Wear it with pride.


My mate who is a Londoner has a wife who is a Kiwi. She's been here for donkey's years, probably over 30 of them. She has a NZ passport, always uses it although she also has a UK one.

Recently, they returned to the UK from a holiday in Malta. Upon entering the UK she was challenged, and in order to validate her right to be here, was asked random questions from a "test".

The first question was "what's the population of Wales."

No, this isn't any kind of joke.

Monday, 26 January 2015


This is the Schmidt Pain Scale. I heard about it on R4's "The Infinite Monkey Cage" earlier. I've only been stung by two of these.

I've shameless robbed it and updated it. Bet you can't spot mine.

1.0 Sweat bee: Light, ephemeral, almost fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm.

1.2 Fire ant: Sharp, sudden, mildly alarming. Like walking across a shag carpet & reaching for the light switch.

1.8 Bullhorn acacia ant: A rare, piercing, elevated sort of pain. Someone has fired a staple into your cheek.

2.0 Bald-faced hornet: Rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to getting your hand mashed in a revolving door.

2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine WC Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.

2.x Honey bee and European hornet.

3.0 Red harvester ant: Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.

3.0 Paper wasp: Caustic & burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of Hydrochloric acid on a paper cut.

4.0 Pepsis wasp: Blinding, fierce, shockingly electric. A running hair drier has been dropped into your bubble bath (if you get stung by one you might as well lie down and scream).

4.0+ Bullet ant: Pure, intense, brilliant pain. Like walking over flaming charcoal with a 3-inch nail in your heel.

5.0 Knowing that you can never be mine.