Wow, what a weekend!  You may smile and knowingly think that you were better off at home curled up under the duvet watching the action with a nice, warm mug of cocoa.  Well, you weren't.

Call me stupid, gullible, glutton for punishment etc, etc, I don't care.  I bloody love that place, even if I am still limping some 8 days later.  Yes, it was muddy.  Yes, it was wet.  Yes, my bed was bloody heavy to carry despite many people telling me beforehand.  I'll even go as far as to say that by Sunday afternoon, I was ready for home.

But those long hours of fighting the mud with weary welly-feet pale into significance when I now look back, only the good memories come through.  And they are plentiful!

So, here are the good points of Glastonbury 2007:

The music - best ever Glasto for music I think.  Arcade Fire, Pigeon Detectives, Seth Lakeman, Bright Eyes, The Who, Seasick Steve, Willy Mason, The Bees were all superb.

The company - what a rip-roaring idea of mine to get everyone together!  It was really cool to see everyone get on, so - Mel, Chris, John, Loz, Farmer, James, Nat, Matt, Rich, Ian, Tim, Kirsty and Dave - cheers!  Same again next year?

The gazebo - ta to mum and dad for giving it THE best send off, and giving Nat a makeshift tap.  (Long story that needs visual aids).

Cider - from both the cider bus and brothers bar, my goodness it was tasty!

Ale - that real ale tent was marvellous and Sundew now has a special place in my heart!

But the bad points:

RAIN - or, as I shall call it from hereonin, BASTARD rain!  It made things almost unbearable and, even worse, it didn't bloody stop on Sunday!  (except for a 5 minute intervention during Cold War Kids who were, ironically, playing a song called 'Hang Me Up To Dry').

MUD - or, as I shall call it from hereonin, BASTARD mud!  The problem with bastard rain is that on a farm, it is very likely to produce bastard mud.  The two combined made walking very difficult, tempers short and beer diluted.  I can deal with the first 2, but not with diluted beer.  VERY annoying.

Crowds - sorry Mr Eavis, but there were too many people this year.  Maybe the bastard mud had something to do with it with people trying to stay on the dryest/shallowest part of the paths, but it seemed slightly hectic almost everywhere, and downright unsafe in others.

Still, I shan't moan too much.  I will accept the crowds as long as the music and atmosphere is worth it, and by god it was!  Unfortunately, whoever controls the climate has had a right old laugh with us this year, haven't they?  Nowt we can do about that, ladies and gents, except pray even harder for a dry Glastonbury next year.  The last THREE have been wet.  We're LONG overdue a scorcher.

Anyway, back to 2007 and the Who.  As Farmer (designated driver), John and I sat in our chairs feeling damp, cold, miserable and wishing we were closer (as Baba O'Riley sounded rather marvellous even from several time zones away), we decided to cut our losses and beat the queue for home.  We bade farewell to John (with the rudimentary manly hugs and footballer's handshakes).  As we trudged wearily onwards like Sam and Frodo, we passed cars stuck in the mud, ready for a LONG wait for a steward to help, or even a passing tractor.  The 3 and a half hour journey back was hell, with torrential rain and 2 very tired festival goers just aching for sleep.  But Farmer did well to his credit, and we rolled home, smelly, wet, hairy and filthy.  After I got home, I showered and waited downstairs on the comfy sofa for the rest of our party to get back.  I trawled through sky + and watched countless hours of footage.  And I was right - curled up under the duvet with a nice, warm mug of cocoa, I'd have given anything to have been back there.

The Football Association have just announced the ticket prices for this season's FA Cup final, and they are as follows from the BBC website:

"The final takes place on 19 May and tickets will cost £35, £60, £80 and £95, with a limited number at £17.50 for under-16s."

I wasn't in the least bit surprised about this absolutely disgraceful and not to mention totally disrespectful kick in the teeth to the average fan.

How can that excuse for a football governing body (at least we can guess what else FA stands for) ever possibly begin to explain why this is fair?  The next quote comes from Chief Wiggum himself - Nobhead in chief of the FA - Brian Barwick:

"It was important to set ticket prices at a sensible and affordable level.  We believe these are very competitive for what will be a historic match."

What total crap. 

Competitive?  The only competitive aspect to these stupid prices is the fact that some desperate fools will find their way onto ebay and buy them for even more ridiculous prices. 

How are they competitive?  How many other 'proud national stadia' are there that have finally been completed millions of pounds over the original budget several YEARS late?  I'd love to see a comparison.

Maybe Barwick is trying to scrimp and save every last penny in order to finally pay off Sven?  Or (and I sincerely doubt it, unfortunately) he's trying to save up for McClaren's compensation when we fail to beat the latest minnows from Amnesia or Piss-tenstein?

To top it all off, it has now been revealed that of the 90,000 seats Wembley has, 50,000 will be made available to fans of Man Utd and Chelsea.  No, not 50,000 each, but 50,000 IN TOTAL.  So, the attendance will consist of just short of 50% of people who are not a fan of either club.  Don't get me wrong, a Utd-Chelsea final is about as tempting and mouth watering to me as a lump of ryvita, but for the friends of mine who do follow them, this is just a farce.  A businessman with no interest in the game whatsoever has more chance of getting a ticket for this game than friends of mine such as Jane and Mike (utd fans).  This is just not right.  The FA's reasoning?

"The final belongs to the whole country, it's also a chance to reward the thousands who give up their time and energy to football."

Can't disagree with that sentiment.  But I don't believe that's what he thinks.  Do you think the 40,000 'extra' supporters of 'the game' will be die-hard football nuts or your stereotypical prawn sandwich muncher? 

(Also, just for the record, I don't buy all this rubbish that the final isn't special to these two teams just because they're expected to win.  Yes, I'd have much preferred a Blackburn – Watford final but just because united and Chelsea expect to get to at least one major final every season doesn't mean that every single seat in that stadium shouldn't go to them as opposed to some greasy yank hoo-ha in a sharp suit and fat wallet asking where Beck-hamm is on the pitch).

Whatever the reason, it's just not acceptable.  The game is no longer a working mans' game. 

I have a ticket stub from my first ever Wolves league game from well over 15 years ago - it cost £3.  Now the balti pies cost more than that.  These days, a seat in that same stand (the Steve Bull Stand) will cost TEN TIMES that amount.

I had a conversation with dad (an adamant egg-chasing fan) a few weeks ago and we agreed that football is dying on its arse.  Football League clubs simply have to keep charging these ridiculous prices to keep up with the monopoly of the Premiership clubs, whose TV deals and sponsorships mean they can reduce prices for their fans.  He also said (and I have seen this) that people PREFER to go down the pub and watch it on a plasma TV as opposed to going down to the game itself.  Where is the old fashioned football fan who travels around the country following THEIR team?  I get so annoyed in the Oldswinford Cross every Saturday and see a family (kids and all) kitted out in their brand new Man Utd shirts attempting to live every kick.  That is not true support – you're in Stourbridge for Christ's sake – SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL TEAM!!!!

Will my kids (upon countless temptations/bribes - both emotional and, I daresay, financial - from myself to don the Old Gold and Black) want to fork out MORE money to watch a LOWER standard of football?  Will they balls.  I just hope that, like me, their passion for their team is the thing that wins them through against all the odds, and not the promise of a prawn sandwich and a meeting with an American CEO.

Remember, all the good guys favour the underdog.  Now the underdog costs more to watch because the favourites sell YOUR tickets off to yank corporations, whilst the watching public are forced into the local to watch every game on the goggle box.  I have to make do maybe 3 lives games a season, with 5 minutes a week on other game ('highlights') if I'm lucky.  Otherwise I have to pay.  And I have to pay a damn sight more.

Anyway, I'm off now.  Wolves play Brum Scum on Sunday on sky.  We've not been on TV this year so I've got to make sure everything is ship-shape.  It's such an honour for them to feature us.  Maybe the Rio Ferdinand 24-hour gambling channel (sponsored by Budweiser) is off air for maintenance this weekend?

Many people look at me with disgust when I label a film 'turd', and I think it's about time these poor souls are given a full explanation as to why this term is not only a term of endearment, but is also an accolade. 

A 'turd' film is best enjoyed when the brain is not willing to take in a vast amount of complicated information, and merely needs light stimulation.  Usually, the familiarity of favourite 'turd' films means that paying attention is not at all necessary.

Here is a list of quintessential 'turd', in no particular order:

The Goonies

Flash Gordon

Willow

Inner Space

The Short Circuit series

The Karate Kid series

Labyrinth

Krull

The Princess Bride

Flight of the Navigator

Tron

Starman

The Back to the Future series

Masters of the Universe

There are many more examples out there, and all these tick all 10 boxes in several important criteria.  And here they are:

1. Box art – for a proper 'turd' film, the box art for the DVD (or VCR - the standard 'turd' format) should be ridiculously over the top, and totally misrepresenting the poor CGI featured in the 'turd' film.  Also, box art should always be painted.  Never trust attractive box art – even these swanky DVDs with extra features.  It won't have the same effect as totally cheesy, disproportionately bad box art.
2. A terrible soundtrack.  This may, or may not be popular music of the time.  It could just be Casio style music played in a lift by a brain-dead, tone deaf 8 year old.  Even Flash Gordon comes up trumps here.  The soundtrack is by Queen (true legends in their own right), but it's by far and away Queen's worst work.  (Altogether now – 'Flash – a-aaaaaa…').  To make things that little more 'turd-o-riffic', an overly trebly bad guitar riff can be played over the top, with keyboard accompaniment.  (As a side point, if the main character is PLAYING said instrument, bonus points may be awarded – see Marty McFly for example).
3. Remember – Americans are GOOD and the British are BAD.  In fact, all other non-US nationalities are bad, unless they happen to be old, bearded, oriental and hard (e.g. Mr Miaghi from the Karate Kid).  If anyone speaks with a slow, camp, British accent, shout 'RUN!!' at the screen.  The character in danger will probably be a child, unless the Evil Brit is rubbing his hands in which case it's just a blatant Bond rip-off, and even grown men (or dogs in a lead role) can be in danger.  Yes, even camp Brits can be deadly.  Julian Clary must just be a one-off.   Any BAD Americans have a hidden agenda.  They are either a) not really American, b) working alongside an evil, Communist-led country that hates America or c) an alien in disguise.
4. Every turd film features a cringe worthy morale-boosting speech by one of the lead characters.  The prime example is Mikey Walsh in the Goonies.  It must make your toes curl with embarrassment, and it must be cheered.  Better still, clink your pint glasses in true appreciation.
5. As mentioned earlier, special effects must look extremely dated and generally shite and totally unbelievable.  Inner Space NEARLY fails in this category, until you get to the face-swapping scene which looks like a Madame Tussuads waxwork melting, which just saves it.  The wonderful backdrops in classic 'turd in space' films such as Flash Gordon and Tron must feature dark black lines outlining everything in the foreground.
6. The daughter of any monarch/emperor etc, etc MUST be fit (if over the age of 18, of course. 'Turd' is not an excuse for perving at schoolgirls you dirty minded, sick people).  There must be no Carol Thatchers or it pushes back the boundaries on un-reality.  In addition, you must have thought them annoying when young and pre-pubescent.  Prime example – Ming the Merciless has a daughter who is just there to fulfil plenty of perverse thoughts of the director.  She can't act but, then again, she wasn't cast for her ability to.
7. Every 'turd' film needs to feature an actor/actress who will go on to be far more famous in their own right, to the point where they look back and their 'turd' role and cringe.  Examples: Drew Barrymore, Courtney Cox, Mark from Eastenders, Jennifer Connelly, the guy who played Robin Hood in 'Men In Tights', and even Sam AND Frodo from Lord of the Rings have played their part in 'turd' history. 
8. If the film won any Oscars for its acting, its music or its 'outstanding contribution to culture', then it's involvement in the 'turd' genre is null and void.
9. Costumes are important.  At least one character must have an utterly hilarious garment.  The true gem here is David Bowie's crotch in Labyrinth.  Quite, quite hideously obvious under his grey leotard, and now talked about in 'turd' discussions as much as Jade Goody in anti-racial relations.  And both totally indefensible. 
10. The stupid name.  EVERY 'turd' film WITHOUT FAIL has at least one character with a stupid name.  It can be a nickname (if set on earth), an innuendo-laden name, or one that is just plain idiotic.  For example, the big baddie in Willow is the quite marvellously named Queen Bavmarda.  Awesome.  For earth-bound 'turd', we have 'amusing' nicknames for purposely annoying dickhead-style characters.  We have Biff from Back to the Future, Mouth from the Goonies and, just to sum up 'turd', a character in Inner Space known only as The Cowboy.

So there you have it.  I hope now, you understand slightly more about why such films are so bad they are great.  But, before I finally stop talking 'turd' (quite literally), here is a reason why more modern films do not fall into the 'turd' category.  2 examples: Titanic and Pearl Harbour.  They are not 'turd' – they are plain SHITE.  Crap characters with not particularly silly names, GOOD special effects (how dare they??), desperate ex-Oscar winners who blatantly didn't read the script properly once they saw the fee, and the fact that only girls like them.  And, we know what happens – the boat sinks and the harbour gets bombed.  The further mystery is this – Leo DiCaprio (tosser – but I digress) was so wooden in Titanic – why the hell does he sink at the end?  He should've floated with the other bits of rotten deadwood.   

Check your DVD/video collection.  Do you have a fair smattering of 'turd'?  If not, maybe it's time to ask yourself why.  Remember, your brain needs a rest occasionally.  If it doesn't, you may end up writing pointless rubbish like this.

I have never ever tried a cigarette.  I have never had nor never will have any intention of trying a cigarette.  I have always thought the entire thought of smoking revolting.  This week, I have reached the limits of my patience.  I am sick and tired of stinking like an ashtray WHEREVER I go.  You just can't escape it.

Firstly, the pub.  Unfortunately, we have to wait a further 3 ½ months before we can go for a nice pint without rendering any item of clothing useless until the next wash.  I appreciate that the pub is one of the few places where smokers can go in this increasingly anti-smoking country.  But it's a real pain – especially when you're trying to eat, and the smoke-ees blow crap all over your food.  Can't they see you're trying to eat??

Now, although a smoky pub is a pain, it's almost expected.  But to walk down the street, or on a bus etc, etc, and STILL get this rubbish blown into your face is a real pet hate of mine.

When I get off the train and walk down the slope to the road, it seems these ignorant tossers medically need to spark up as soon as they feel the first gust of fresh air.  Then they wave the cigarette about as they explain to their equally uneducated friend why it's such a pain and 'against their basic human rights' to be denied a cancer stick for a whole half an hour whilst on the train.

Oh, my heart bleeds - probably nice, fresh, healthy, red blood, not the clogged, tarry muck inside your veins but I digress – why not try and have a little bit of consideration for those who desperately try and avoid your foul pollution?

So, until July, I urge all non-smokers who are as sick of this selfish attitude as I am to unite.  Everyone must eat some of the following every night:

Curry

Mushy peas

Baked beans

Lentils

Figs

Any high-fibre based vegetarian dish.

Then, when we get on the train, we'll hold in any up and coming 'discomfort' as not to pollute the rest of the carriage.  But, on approaching the slope leading out of the station, we all let rip with a finely tuned methane emission, about as toxic and unpleasant as the nicotine and tar rush of a fag-ee.  Yes, we may get disdainful looks, but look on the bright side, it will avenge many years of passive smoke abuse.  Also, it won't cost us thousands of pounds to do it, and we won't be damaging our health, just that of others around us.  Hang on, isn't that the 'smokers' way of thinking' anyway? 

Hello you lucky, lucky people.  You now get to read not one but TWO rants about things I really cannot hold in much longer.  I feel like Mr Kreosote from Monty Python's Meaning of Life.  I'm ready to blow.

We'll start with Mobile Phones. 

I have a mobile and would argue that it's very hard to get around nowadays without one as people tend to become less reliable.  Before the advent of them, you had to actually CONVERSE with people in order to meet up as opposed to the lazy alternative of sending a quick text saying 'B THER IN 5.'  How did we survive?  (Or, more importantly, how did we ever learn how to spell?)

Yet people have become even lazier.  I love the term MOBILE phone.  It's so conclusive.  It's like Ronseal – it does exactly what it says on the tin.  Some are reasonably small as well so you can fit them in your pockets and wander around with them – MOBILE you see?

Even as I write this, I can see some people in my office meander through the desks towards the meeting area.  What will they do when their precious contraption goes off to the monotone sound of Swan Lake?  Answer?  Not a lot – like the previous 4 times it has since I got here this morning and the previous 37 this week.  I'd like to make a few points here for anyone guilty of PA (Phone Abandonment):

1. Every phone has a silent function.  Or, even better, an OFF button.  Why not use them?
2. Some phones even VIBRATE as opposed to make a noise.  Mine vibrates.  It's terrible – I keep phoning myself up.  Still, it harms no-one else as it's QUIET.
3. Choosing a ring tone is obviously a tough task amongst the brain-dead, deaf ignoramuses out there.  Tip: choosing the William Tell Overture, Swan Lake, The Entertainer or the Orange jingle isn't big or clever.  It's worse if it's an old-school monotone ring tone that is ear piercingly loud.
4. You chose the Crazy Frog.  Go to point one and NEVER talk to me again.
5. Why not try and put it in your pocket? 

If you had a small child and left it on it's own to wail, scream and generally be loud and irritating to other people's annoyance, it would be illegal for you to pick up the offending brat and throw it out of the window.  Unbelievably, the same rules apply to phones.  PHONES HAVE THE SAME LEGAL RIGHTS AS CHILDREN.  The world has gone crazy.

Now I need to have a wee fume-ette at SMS.

By SMS, I don't mean text messages.  I mean 'Secure' Mail Services.  Well, I suppose they aren't guilty of false advertising.  They are very bloody secure.  So bloody secure in fact, that it is easier to find a Jade Goody fan than to arrange delivery of the items you have bought with your hard earned cash. 

Do SMS staff patrol the corridors of the House of Commons or Buckingham Palace?  Well, secure they may be but they're as reliable as a plumber's estimate so I hope not. 

They should've delivered my Fratellis tickets on Friday between 8 am and 6 pm. No-one turned up. I was in from 2 after I got home from work.

On Saturday, I noticed that I had been 'delivered' a card through the door at 9.45 am saying that they'd tried to deliver them at 9.30 that very morning. Very odd seeing as I was in the lounge from 9 watching Soccer AM.

So, if anyone cretinous enough to work for this vile company is reading, may I suggest you click HERE then try again when you have learnt an ounce of common sense?

Failing that, please audition for Big Brother to meet people of a similar intellect.

I will SCREAM if these w*****s are in charge of delivering Glastonbury tickets.  They did in 2005 so I'm not hopeful.

NB. My doorbell DOES work. Hannah and I seem to be able to work it, so it's hardly sophisticated technology.

January is a word I dread.  To grasp a pen and write 'January' under the date is something I really don't enjoy.  It's my least favourite month of the year.  All other months have moments to look forward to but not January.  It's crap, it's drab, it's dreary and it's the equal longest month of the year.

Now February only has 28 days (except leap years before anyone is picky).  Why doesn't February have 31 days?  Why does January have 3 extra days?  That's 72 hours of further GLOOM.  Surely in today's totally over-the-top-politically-correct-crazy world, this is just monthist? 

January is a useless carbuncle of a month.  What good does it do anyone?  It starts well enough.  The first 3 hours are usually spent drunk, phoning relatives, dancing and then sleeping heavily.  Then you wake up to a hangover that lasts the next 31 (sigh) days.  Following New Years Day (officially the most inactive day of the year – FACT), things just go downhill.  The following day is spent with an impending dread of the return to work, and the first day of work is spent with an impending dread of more work up until the next day off/public holiday.  The first public holiday isn't until April, so that's FOUR MONTHS of gloom.

February isn't much better than January for several reasons, but at least its short and, well, it's not January.  I try to imagine the impact January must have on the other months.  I reckon it's the annoying colleague who brings everyone else down.  All the other months must talk about January behind its back.  It sits by February who therefore is almost as depressed, but February knows it has 3 days less than January and can progress in its career.  (December, of course, who sits on the other side, is a hedonist and NOTHING can bring its mood down.  December is also popular – people spent MONTHS planning things for good old December and it's always invited to parties and work gatherings.)

January is also two-faced.  It's true – it's named after Janus who was the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings and endings.  Two of my favourite months are July and August who are named after Julius Caesar and the Emperor Augustus respectively.  That's 2 of the finest military rulers of all time as opposed to a two-faced, miserable security guard like January.

* I had to use the word 'moribund' after watching an episode of Alan Partridge in which the word is clearly described.  It is now my word of the week.

Gill stole this from someone, so I shall steal it from Gill.

Apparently if you have seen more than 85 of these films you have no life....  So, I've put an (x) by the films I have seen.  Scroll down for the results.

( ) Rocky Horror Picture Show
(x) Grease
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest
( ) Boondock Saints
(x) Fight Club
( ) Starsky and Hutch
( ) Neverending Story
(x) Blazing Saddles
(x) Airplane

Total: 6

(x) The Princess Bride
( ) AnchorMan
(x) Napoleon Dynamite
(x) Labyrinth
( ) Saw
( ) Saw II
( ) White Noise
( ) White Oleander
( ) Anger Management
( ) 50 First Dates
( ) The Princess Diaries
( ) The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement

Total so far: 9

(x) Scream
( ) Scream 2
( ) Scream 3
(x) Scary Movie
( ) Scary Movie 2
( ) Scary Movie 3
( ) Scary Movie 4
(x) American Pie
(x) American Pie 2
(x) American Wedding
( ) American Pie Band Camp

Total so far: 14

(x) Harry Potter 1
(x) Harry Potter 2
(x) Harry Potter 3
(x) Harry Potter 4
( ) Resident Evil 1
( ) Resident Evil 2
(x) The Wedding Singer
( ) Little Black Book
( ) The Village
( ) Lilo & Stitch

Total so far: 19

(x) Finding Nemo
( ) Finding Neverland
( ) Signs
( ) The Grinch
(x) Texas Chainsaw Massacre
( ) Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
( ) White Chicks
( ) Butterfly Effect
( ) 13 Going on 30
( ) I, Robot
( ) Robots

Total so far: 21

(x) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
( ) Universal Soldier
( ) Lemony Snicket: A Series Of Unfortunate Events
( ) Along Came Polly
(x) Deep Impact
( ) KingPin
( ) Never Been Kissed
(x) Meet The Parents
(x) Meet the Fockers
( ) Eight Crazy Nights
( ) Joe Dirt
(x) King Kong

Total so far: 26

( ) A Cinderella Story
( ) The Terminal
( ) The Lizzie McGuire Movie
( ) Passport to Paris
(x) Dumb & Dumber
( ) Dumber & Dumberer
(x) Final Destination
( ) Final Destination 2
( ) Final Destination 3
( ) Halloween
( ) The Ring
( ) The Ring 2
( ) Surviving X-MAS
( ) Flubber

Total so far: 28

( ) Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle
( ) Practical Magic
( ) Chicago
( ) Ghost Ship
(x) From Hell
( ) Hellboy
( ) Secret Window
( ) I Am Sam
( ) The Whole Nine Yards
( ) The Whole Ten Yards

Total so far: 29

( ) The Day After Tomorrow
( ) Child's Play
( ) Seed of Chucky
( ) Bride of Chucky
( ) Ten Things I Hate About You
( ) Just Married
( ) Gothika
(x) Nightmare on Elm Street
( ) Sixteen Candles
( ) Remember the Titans
( ) Coach Carter
( ) The Grudge
( ) The Grudge 2
(x) The Mask
( ) Son Of The Mask

Total so far: 31

( ) Bad Boys
( ) Bad Boys 2
( ) Joy Ride
( ) Lucky Number Slevin
(x) Ocean's Eleven
( ) Ocean's Twelve
( ) Bourne Identity
( ) Bourne Supremecy
( ) Lone Star
(x) Bedazzled
(x) Predator I
( ) Predator II
( ) The Fog
( ) Ice Age
( ) Ice Age 2: The Meltdown
( ) Curious George

Total so far: 34

(x) Independence Day
( ) Cujo
( ) A Bronx Tale
( ) Darkness Falls
( ) Christine
(x) ET
( ) Children of the Corn
( ) My Bosses Daughter
( ) Maid in Manhattan
(x) War of the Worlds
( ) Rush Hour
( ) Rush Hour 2

Total so far: 37

( ) Best Bet
( ) How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
( ) She's All That
( ) Calendar Girls
( ) Sideways
(x) Mars Attacks!
( ) Event Horizon
( ) Ever After
(x) Wizard of Oz
(x) Forrest Gump
(x) Big Trouble in Little China
(x) The Terminator
(x) The Terminator 2
(x) The Terminator 3

Total so far: 44

(x) X-Men
( ) X-2
( ) X-3
(x) Spider-Man
( ) Spider-Man 2
( ) Sky High
( ) Jeepers Creepers
( ) Jeepers Creepers 2
( ) Catch Me If You Can
( ) The Little Mermaid
( ) Freaky Friday
(x) Reign of Fire
( ) The Skulls
( ) Cruel Intentions
( ) Cruel Intentions 2
( ) The Hot Chick
(x) Shrek
(x) Shrek 2

Total so far: 49

( ) Swimfan
( ) Miracle on 34th street - only the original
( ) Old School
( ) The Notebook
( ) K-Pax
( ) Krippendorf's Tribe
( ) A Walk to Remember
( ) Ice Castles
( ) Boogeyman
( ) The 40-year-old Virgin

Total so far: 49

(x) Lord of the Rings Fellowship of the Ring
(x) Lord of the Rings The Two Towers
(x) Lord of the Rings Return Of the King
(x) Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
(x) Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
(x) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Total so far: 55

( ) BASEketball
(x) Hostel
( ) Waiting for Guffman
( ) House of 1000 Corpses
( ) Devils Rejects
( ) Elf
(x) Highlander
( ) Mothman Prophecies
(x) American History X
( ) Three

Total so Far: 58

( ) The Jacket
( ) Kung Fu Hustle
(x) Shaolin Soccer
( ) Night Watch
(x) Monsters Inc.
(x) Titanic
(x) Monty Python and the Holy Grail
(x) Shaun Of the Dead
( ) Willard

Total so far: 63

I haven't got much to say today.  I'm a man of few words as you know.

Just get your clicking finger ready and click when you're told to.

Ready???

Ok....

Click!! Now!! NOW!! QUICK!! YOU HAVEN'T GOT LONG!!!

Cheers to everyone who participated in the frivolities.

I may post a rant soon so for god's sake, stay awake.

Love and respect,

Ian

I'm getting a bit fed up with stereotypes.  The other day, we hadn't thought of somewhere to go for a quick drink before work's party so I suggested The Wellington near Snow Hill.

It's a quality establishment - an ever-changing array of ales (usually 15 on the go at once) and even plates on the side for you to bring your takeaway food in if you're feeling peckish.

My argument is thus - why do people automatically dismiss this place?  I reckon it's the 'real ale pub' stigma.  The problem with this label is that people don't actually understand what the hell they're on about.  Yet they're happy to sink pint after pint of samey lager in some pretentious shit hole with the same atmosphere as every other pretentious shit hole on the same stretch of road (e.g. Broad Street in Brum, Deansgate Locks in Manchester.  In short, a road full of overdressed and mainly extremely intoxicated revellers).

I will not accept the fact that such places are 'nice' for reasons stated in an earlier blog.  They're a cheap and easy excuse to try and fit in.  Maybe my taste in pubs for a 26 year old is out of the ordinary?  It's certainly 'uncool' according to my supposed peers.  If that's the case, and my preference of going to a pub for the main reason of sampling different drinks is 'uncool' then get me one of those wooly jumpers and pipes I hear them go on about.  I care not.

I won't dispel a myth here - in real ale pubs you do sometimes get old men with beards sitting in a corner with a tank top marking their drinks out of 10.  But you also get perfectly normal people who have manners.  I'd much rather be in the company of the jumpers and pipes than testosterone-filled arseholes who have 2 goals from the evening - a) to get off with an equally stuck up overdressed tart and b) to fight anyone or anything who gets in the way of goal a) which includes anyone wearing a police uniform or carrying a white stick.

Hell - if this is what society is gearing up to be, I'd better make my choice - please fetch me my pipe.  I'm off to M&S for a jumper and I intend to grow a nice, long, curly yet unkempt beard.

A message to anyone guilty of not giving pubs like the Wellington a try - maybe - just maybe - you're missing out on a nice, friendly atmosphere where, rather importantly in my opinion, the drinks are excellent.  You might just find a new favourite tipple.

This year has absolutely flown by.  I can't believe it's only 18 days until Christmas. 

That's not to say I'm not prepared – I have at least done some shopping.  I try to do it early as the idea of braving anywhere on Christmas Eve that isn't a pub gives me the creeps.  And if you have left it until the last minute, there's hardly a fun, festive feel in the air.  Shopping centres are usually crammed full of pissed off members of the General Public™ being dragged around by their battleaxe wives and surrounded by their screaming little shits.

I bloody love t'internet – you can do all your shopping in one go and not even have to get out of your seat.  Nowadays, you can get anything online.  Why bother facing the General Public™ when you can stay in a nice warm room?

Please don't think I'm a miserable old humbug who hates the thought of Christmas because I'm not.  It's quality – I'm a softie at heart and love a good old knees up with a few jars.  I even make do with dads's Christmas Carol CD and sprout obsession.  Because I LIKE Christmas.  It's the build up that starts in mid-October and the bad feeling caused by aforementioned idiots that bring it down slightly.

So, anyway, on to the colour pink.  I hate pink.  It's a stupid colour.  It's an unnatural, crap, girly waste of a colour.  If I could ban one thing in the world that narks me, pink would be one of the major contenders.  (The others such as people who can't use escalators, Cristiano Ronaldo, Jonathan Ross, 'Friends', hip-hop/R&B music, Lee Hughes, cricket, olives, Central Trains etc would probably edge ahead but I digress).  It seems every bloody event in the calendar uses pink.  Easter – pink fluffy easter bunnies.  Valentines Day – pink as far as the eye can see.  And now, darkening (for wont of a better word) the corner of our office is the most hideous PINK Christmas tree I have ever seen.  I bet Peter Andre and Jordan don't have a pink Christmas tree.  I bet even Posh and Becks would wretch at the sight of this tree.  It is the tackiest piece of tat I have ever seen.  It is, in fact, a BARBIE Christmas tree.  It has frilly white branches, a vomit-inducing pink base and red and pink ribbons topped off by a cringe worthy fibre optic ambience.  It is, in summation, SHITE.  WHY is it in our office?  WHO thought it was a good marketing ploy?  HOW has this disgusting object managed to make money?  And WHEN is it an acceptable time to put my pyrophobia to one side and fry the bastard thing?

My poor colleague (who has similar thoughts to me about the 'tree') has to sit by this every day.  I have to look at it every day – it's in my line of vision.  Why is the perfectly normal GREEN (yes – we have green trees here in the UK.  I am still to come across that wondrous pink forest although I've heard there are some near Sellafield) Christmas tree stuck in the corner with no lights yet this beacon of turd sits proudly on top of the work units?  And why did we get 2 trees in the first place?

As I type, I occasionally glance up and look at it.  I feel like Jack Bauer looking at Nina Myers.  It needs to be destroyed.  I need to wait until everyone has left the office.  Then it needs to fall victim to an unfortunate accident involving petrol, the 'in' tray on my desk, Paul's cigarette lighter and 20,000 volts of direct current.