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Jono



Last Updated: 5/6/2007

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Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 22
Sign: Virgo

City: York
Country: UK
Signup Date: 10/9/2005

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Sunday, April 01, 2007 

Current mood:  frustrated
...and I shall use iTunes!

As soon as I plug my iPod in to recharge, up pops good old reliable iTunes to greatly comlicate the smooth running of my laptop. This time, however, it's telling me that version 7.1.1 is available for update. Correct me if i'm wrong, but last time I updated iTunes, which was nothing short of about a month ago, nothing appeared to actually update - apart from the number in the "About iTunes" section of the program.

To avoid having to close the "Download Update" (How many directions is that then?!) dialog box every time I come within 5 feet of my laptop holding an iPod, i went ahead and clicked the update button. Because it's a pretty slow kinda sunday, and because I've got nothing better to be doing, I decided I'd actually read the EULA (End User Licence Agreement). How many of you have ever actually read this thing? Its genius I tell you, sheer genius!! Here's a quote from the EULA of iTunes...

"You also agree that you will not use these
products for any purposes prohibited by United States law, including, without limitation, the development, design, manufacture or
production of missiles, or nuclear, chemical or biological weapons."


Thats right folks, for all of you who were thinking of whipping up a sneaky Thermo-Nuclear device in your potting shed using iTunes, stop in your tracks... Apple has your number!

Another part that caught my attention was this...

"Without limiting the foregoing, under no circumstances shall 3Com be held liable for any delay or failure in performance resulting directly or indirectly from acts of nature, forces, or causes beyond its reasonable control, including, without limitation, Internet failures, computer equipment failures, telecommunication equipment failures, other equipment failures, electrical power failures, strikes, labor disputes, riots, insurrections, civil disturbances, shortages of labor or materials, fires, floods, storms, explosions, acts of God, war, governmental actions, orders of domestic or foreign courts or tribunals, non-performance of third parties, or loss of or fluctuations in heat, light, or air conditioning."


So... short of a guy from Apple turning up on your doorstep and twatting you upside the head with a length of two-be-four, they're pretty much not responsible if the program that they programmed, goes wrong - I like that, total diplomatic immunity! (I know a guy with a south african accent, we get him to say that.. its killer!) There's some pretty specific stuff in there too, for example - 'Air conditioning' gets its own personal mention outside of 'other equipment failures' and 'electrical power failures' This leads me to the conclusion that someone, somewhere once sued the pants off Apple on the grounds that iTunes made their air conditioning fail. No doubt american - that'd never get to court anywhere else.

Also.. what actually comes under the title of "Acts of God"?, and furthermore, should one of these "Acts of God" actually occour, who's God is responsible? There's the Christians, but they've only got the one - its far more likely to be the Hindu's they've got loads, harder to keep an eye on em all y'see! Also.. while all this is going on, do you get Bhuddists sat there keeping themselves to themselves? Why no, you don't, because Apple covered themselves against any kind of religious uprising by claiming they aren't responsible for "Forces of Nature" either. That'll keep Major Tom and his band of Scientologists happy at least.

These EULAs are brilliant in their own stupidity, but I can't fault them, for covering one's ass is the first and foremost business strategy in the book! Even if it is from every angle conceivable and unconceivable!

P.s. For those skeptics amongst you who saw the date this was written, and promtly fucked off again - Take a look at this, and scroll down to section 10 entitled "Export Control". I shit you not ladies and gentlemen, Apple actually wrote this junk!
5:16 PM 
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Wednesday, February 14, 2007 

Category: Blogging
...Today is just Wednesday, How about you?

When someone "Paints the Town Red", its really not supposed to be taken literally. Red heart-shaped... well.. everything adorns pretty much all of downtown York, and this can only mean one thing. Its February, its nearly the 14th, Oh yes ladies and gentlemen, its St Valentine's Day, the single most pointless act of pointlessness since Golf. Why it is that card companies need to set one day a year where they can pretty much line their back pockets with the mental anguish of millions is beyond me.

Single people feel left out, and people in a relationship feel some kind of unspoken obligation to do/buy something special for their partner. If you are in a relationship wherein you need to have one day a year set aside to do something for your partner, then I really do grieve for the future of it. Seriously, to make it special... don't do whatever it is on Valentine's Day. How is it supposed to seem "special", when every other couple on the planet (and god forbid elsewhere) are also having a "special night"?

You may mistake it for the desperate rantings for a poor single kid, but mistake all you want; I couldn't care less about Valentine's Day. (As much as this journal contradicts that notion)

St. Valentine was a Roman Martyr that had about as much to do with flying pampers-ridden sprogs as the Pope does with downhill mountain biking1. Being a martyr, it means he was most likely "Bludgeoned to shit by huge fucking rocks"2, and most probably not in the name of people giving sick-making fluffy clap trap to their partners. Oh no, the culprit of that travesty most likely goes to one "Geoffrey Chaucer" who, even though is credited as being the father of English Literature, for reasons beyond my knowledge; decided to use our poor friend Mr Valentine as a scapegoat for vomit-inducing romantic bilge. Thus, the tradition of wasting money on plasticy mass-produced rubbish was born. (Eventually)

Today is Wednesday the 14th of February. Much the same as Wednesday the 7th of February, and to the best of my knowledge at the time, it is going to be pretty similar to Wednesday the 21st of February.

How's about this for a journal ending, you may interpret this how you will, but perhaps you should take a leaf out of the Beautiful South's book, and "Carry on regardless!"
Wednesday, October 04, 2006 
...But it'll still stink

Morning all, I do believe its time to take a full-on assault on the music industry, and why not - I've slated the general public already, there's not that many more people I could possibly piss off.

First of all, lets start with those adverts for albums you see on TV.

Rant: Album Adverts

Lets get straight down to business.., how can every album that is advertised on the telly be "The most eagerly awaited album of the year" or " The most critically acclaimed album of the year". Its just not possible.

I once saw an advert for an album, which quoted itself as the "Best album of the year". In it's defence, I couldn't fault it, however this may have been because it was January, and it was the only album of the year. Anyway, I'm the consumer, I'll decide if it's the best album of the year or not. More often than not, its another album of humdrum music that is from the "hot new" artist on the scene, but who will be forgotten in two weeks tops. Which kinda nicely brings me onto my second point...

Rant: Today's Music Industry

Do you really think that it's some kind of "retro comeback" that's behind kids preferring music that is older than they are, over the "popular" music of today?

I don't.

I think its the simple fact that older music is much better!

Record companies will let any old shit be released now-a-days. Now, don''t get me wrong, I'm not totally naive. I know they've always been releasing shite songs, let us not forget Hylda Baker & Arthur Mullard... actually, lets.

There really does, however, appear to be an amazing torrent of unimaginative bilge on the radio. I can't actually remember the last time I listened to the radio - The music just doesn't grab my attention anymore.

I'm not going to point fingers and name names... wait... Yes I am, its fun!

One name stands out for me, and that name is Lily Allen. I first heard her on the advert for her album. I was speechless, and not in a good way. The only way I can really describe the lyrics, is by stating the simple fact that I've seen deeper and more meaningful puddles of piss on a public toilet seat. The single that has been released, (aptly named "Smile" seemingly after the only emotion her almost vacant expression seems able to pull off) is about a her man leaving her for the girl next door. There have always been many songs about people's relationships breaking up, I mean, I can pick "Always" by Bon Jovi straight out of the air.

However...

When Jon Bon Jovi sings Always, I can tell its full of feeling, its about something that is obviously close to him. Listening to Lily Allen scrape her way through her song, I can tell she wrote the lyrics with the help of a large print version of "The Usbourne Big Book of Rhymes" and a set of chubby crayolas.

Another thing that seems to grate on me, is the fact that she describes her music as Ska. Just because there's a note on every off-beat, don't mean it's Ska Missy! If anything, it's some kind of mental patient offspring of Dub.

Ska music originated in Jamaica in the 1950's. It's upbeat style and bouncy, almost happy mood gives it it's hook. Pioneered by the likes of Prince Buster, and Hugh Roy, it often contains lyrics with many levels of understanding, and sometimes very political views between the lines. I'd sooner skin my arse and sit in a bath of vinegar than define Lily Allen as a Ska artist.

Either way, I'm gonna give up contriving a reason to hate Lily Allen any further. What I'm trying to get across is that the music industry seems to find a stereotype in music, and bleed it dry till everyone is sick of it. It seems to do this by giving record contracts to artists that wouldn't have seen the light of day before the popularity of a genre rose. In my lifetime, I've noticed "britpop", nu-metal, punk rock (to an extent) and "indie" get the music industry treatment.

Lets take nu-metal as an example. When I was in high-school, the first album I bought was Chocolate Starfish by Limp Bizkit. Mostly down to the fact that my bud bought it aswell, but I liked the style. It was probably some kind of "hey look at me, I'm listening to music they won't play on the radio" phase, but either way, that was the start of the nu-metal for me. I continued on and bought Papa Roach albums, and Linkin Park albums. All of a sudden, nu-metal became popular, every kid was walking around with Korn sewn on their backpack, or an image of a burning monk from Rage's album cover on their hoody. I couldn't be arsed being part of the crowd, so I dug a little deeper and found other bands, other genres of music. Looking to the 80s, I found a veritable treasure trove of rockin beats and spiffy riffs. I did, however, notice that other kids grew tired of the nu-metal thing and also found their own places in music. I'm not saying I alone pioneered the notion of not listening to popular music, not by a long shot. Apart from being totally arrogant, its also completely absurd.

The real reason as far as I can see, is that the record companies saturated the market with bands. Its plain to see, walk into any HMV, and look at the "Metal" section. HMV have obviously given up trying to classify every different band that comes out, as I quite often find that Reel Big Fish sits in the metal section next to the likes of Rage Against The Machine. Not exactly two styles that sit hand-in-hand I think you'll admit.

You've probably noticed that nearly every song you hear at the moment, has lyrics sung with a northern accent, and all sound the same. And trust me, these are not songs from the same band. Just listen to The Fratellis. Then the Arctic Monkeys (Or Asslick Mongeys if you hold them as highly as I do). Notice how they sound exactly the same. I feel this is the beginning of the end for "indie" music. The market is becoming saturated with bands that all sound the same. Towards the end, you will find that contracts are given to increasingly more flimsy acts. Each one lasts less time that the one that preceded it until, inevitably, people really do reach the point of sickness with a genre of music. (aside from a few loyal fans) The public eye is a fickle thing, and will not think twice before tiring of a genre and turning it's attention to another, dropping the artists back down to earth from the high it so generously lifted them to.

I feel that the record companies should pull their fingers out of their wallets, and place them back firmly on the pulse.

Time to call it a day, although at present, there's less than half of it left.


I leave you with news of a large hole that has opened up in the middle of Main Road.

When questioned on the matter, Police were quoted to be "looking into it"
Laters x
12:17 PM 
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Tuesday, September 19, 2006 
...Doesn't mean they're not out to get you!

Screw pleasantries,

If I don't get this rant out I'll probably get some kinda rage-related internal dilation and plaster the walls with my very valued, yet somewhat abused internal organs.

Rant: Virus Software

I have two words that implore you to avoid when you are perusing the vastness of the net for software to use as a deterrent to "viruses". (I use the term virus in the loosest way possible, as I believe viruses are only there as a means for anti-virus software to exist, and vice-versa)

These words are "Zone" and "Alarm"

This program is one of, if not the most paranoid program I've ever seen! As soon as I logged onto the internet after it had been installed, I was greeted with what seemed like an endless flow of pop up messages telling me that certain programs were trying to access the internet. This is fair enough I guess, It'll build up a list of trusted programs eventually and it'll calm down, but I did get the feeling I wouldn't be able to take a shit without toilet.exe needing permission to access flush.dat.

Isn't this thing supposed to prevent pop ups?!

Another thing I noticed is that none of the animated gifs in my browser were actually animating...

...at all!

You may feel this is not much of a problem, but when you are one who creates the things, you would actually benefit from being able to see them! Turns out the problem is that ZoneAlarm lumps all animated gifs under the heading of "advert" Its quite fun that we are now seeing racism and discrimination between programs and file types! I am waiting with great excitement for Martin_Luther.kng to make some kind of monumental speech to end this nonsense once and for all.

Heading on over to Myspace to check out my "friends" with all their photos of themselves in their bathroom mirrors, I was greeted with not being able to see any of them! Not so much of a tragedy, but still evidence of the program taking liberties.

Also, it seems every website that has photos on it is automatically going to be porn.. I mean come on! Its obvious every photo on the internet involves lesbians somehow! I'm quite surprised I'm allowed to use blogger.com, after all, I could so easily be writing naughty words! Gasp Shock Horror! I hate the fact that because I'm nineteen, because I still have that beautiful four letter word "teen" cemented firmly on my age, I'm immediately lumped in with all the 'too-horny-for-their-own-good' thirteen year olds looking for porn all day. For god's sake, porn works like a catch-22 anyway. When you aren't old enough to buy it, its seen as the most sacred of all 'reading' materials, yet when you become old enough to legally obtain it, you can't see any logical reason behind it's sheer existence. Its things like this in the world, things that are actually brilliant in their unmitigated logic, that keep me just about smiling through.

To top off the annoyance of this most wonderful of programs, it likes to tell me that the chat window I have open in MSN is not encrypted because the person I'm talking to is not protected by "IM security" It does this via the chat window... Like I could actually care less?! When I disable IM monitoring, it then tells me that "IM monitoring is disabled"

...Yes... I know... After all.. I disabled it!

If anyone tries to send any kind of emoticon to me, all I see is a blank space where it should be... What possible conceivable reason could there possibly be for wanting to block emoticons on MSN messenger?! I can't see display pictures either. Maybe ZoneAlarm is some kinda fascist regime trying to stop out all traces of joy and humour in the world before they overthrow the whole planet. (although it looks pretty much like they've managed already)

It even had the audacity to assume I needed my internet cache cleaning out. Maybe for one minute it could have stopped to think that maybe I wanted the computer to remember the passwords to every different bloody username I have in every one of the farthest reaches of the internet. If I need something doing, I'll ask, and I sure as hell wouldn't ask ZoneAlarm to do it.

By checking out the settings of this program, you'd think the whole world was made up of viruses, hackers and malicious code that is out to get you! So much so that it blocks even your closest friends from pretty much knowing you still exist. What a brilliant invention by those guys at ZoneLabs.. I applaud you for giving people yet another way to screw their computers over once and for all.

You just can't win.

As I sit here writing this, there's one woman in London, who has been handed her life-long dream on a plate. She has won the opportunity to be in a west-end production of "The Sound of Music", not because she attended years of drama school, but because she wasn't voted out of a "reality TV show" (I use the term "reality" in the loosest way possible, as these progams ain't like any reality I've ever seen!)

Rant: Reality TV

Fundamentally, all I can really say is.. What the hell?! It seems now-a-days, nothing can be done without the whole country deciding via text message.

First came Big Brother, a novel idea.. In the sense that it was better as a novel!

Big Brother...

just..

NO!

I simply cannot find anything interesting about watching a bunch of G.C.S.E. failures sit around all day and pick their noses, arses, nits, and each other. What's more, just by being on the program, they reach some level of celebrity where they are considered a celebrity just because they are a celebrity. How in the hell does that ever make sense!? The only way you could get me to watch Big Brother is if they sealed the house and slowly filled it with chlorine gas over a matter of hours. Now that's quality viewing! I predict the dumbass blondes would go first, after all, they've got about as much going for them as a canary.

Then came Pop Idol...

Some people need to take a step back and realise they really are actually inhumanly bad at singing. The amount of money flying round backstage at that place amid cries of "There, I told you I wouldn't chicken out, where's my �£20" must be phenomenal. What's more, what exactly did that program do for the winner? Gareth "give me the sympathy vote because I stutter" Gates. Where the hell is that gap-toothed lil runt now? Probably sat in a bar somewhere drowning his sorrows in a pint of Orange Juice.

Just when you thought it could get no worse, came along Strictly Bori... Sorry, Ballroom..Where viewers vote on who's the worst dancer. And my God they've strung this one out! One series has but finished when they are advertising the new one. Yet more reasons why Saturday nights are better spent in the pub with friends What's next? Strictly Ballroom Breakdancing?!

Rock School was just so cringeworthy it was unbelievable. I cannot believe the once mighty Gene Simmons lowered himself to this kind of pre-pubescent angst filled codswallop. (such a brilliant word!) From what I saw in that program, it was all about 13 year old kids bitching because they couldn't all play lead guitar. And what ever happened to making your own way? That's where you learn how to deal with the shit you'll encounter in a band.

You know what, I'm glad he was thrown in at the deep end, its kids like that who annoy me. Kids who are so up their own arses they'd need a perspex stomach to see where they are going. One day he's going to be slayed by an audience and he's not going to know what hit him! (assuming the audience isn't full of whiny 14 year old girls like any McFly 'gig' you ever have the mis-fortune to witness)

The only logical next step I can see is "General Election: Prime Minister Idol". Basically, viewers vote off the people they don't want to run the country, and just like any other reality TV show, the winners will be forgotten about a month later.

I really hope they start making decent TV again one day, otherwise they've pretty much lost me as a fan of telly.

In other news, the insurance claim for the stolen goods has been sent off. In a way, being robbed is kinda good. I was told to make a list of PS2 games to replace the one's I'd had nicked. The brilliant thing is, they didn't have to be the exact same ones, so I've got me a shedload of new PS2 games coming my way!

That'll do me for this post me-reckons.

As usual, I shall leave you with a riddle to resolve...

Where do itches go when you scratch them? 1

Laters x


1 In reply to your latest riddle, once an itch has been scratched, it submerges deeper into your body and tunnels it's way around, surfacing sometimes minutes, sometimes hours later in another part of your body. After the remedy of scratching is employed by the itchee, the process is repeated. I believe all humans are born with one itch inside their body. That same itch darts around for our entire lifespan. Then we die.

- Jonny Birkin





9:45 AM 
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Friday, September 08, 2006 

Category: Life
...We won't spank the Monkey, the Monkey will spank us!

Its amazing, I've actually had an uneventful week. Nothing has happened! Probably due to me getting back into the routine of waking up at the crack of noon and maybe making it downstairs by 3pm.

I spent most of the week trying to get an idea to work in Photoshop, and discovered that it isn't actually a WYSIWYG program. 'What You See' isn't necessarily 'What You Get'... Or maybe my printer is like the drunken best friend of my PC, and its just taking the piss.

I also discovered this week, that I may indeed have the power of seeing the future. In the field of consumer home entertainment anyway. Had you asked me last week if the PlayStation 3 would make it's first deadline, I would have simply replied with "Of course not, it'll be put back to about March 2007"

Lo and behold! Sony announced the release date of their latest games console is to be put forward to March 2007.

Spooky stuffs!

Anyway, here's my prediction for the future of handheld games consoles.

Back at the start of 1992, Sony introduced a "revolutionary" new media storage device known as "MiniDisc". The MiniDisc was popular for a short while, and albums were even available on them. However, it wasn't a replacement for the perfectly viable Compact Disc, so people continued to buy their albums on CD. Much like their Betamax tapes 17 years earlier, popularity of the MiniDisc in the consumer eye dwindled, and is now non-existent. MiniDisc is still a very useful storage medium for recording music due to its almost 'hard-drive' like properties.

Anyway, Sony learned the hard way that its not too easy to introduce a whole new way of doing things across the board. Nintendo seemed to do okay with their smaller sized GameCube discs, but that is because it was only used in the gaming industry. About the GameCube discs, the reasoning behind them seemed a little flawed... Supposedly the smaller discs would stop piracy of the GameCube games. It may just be me, but if the laser in the console can read it, then I'm sure its possible to copy it.

I believe Sony realised this when designing the PSP, creating a dedicated system to read their 'new fangled' media type. This is the way forward... Or is it?

Sony have seemingly hit the nail on the head with their UMD's. Many movie companies have realised the potential of being able to watch movies on the move, and have subsequently released countless numbers of films on the format. Shoppers are literally spoilt for choice as far as games are concerned.

But...

What happens when Microsoft step into the world of hand-held consoles? We've seen it before with the X-box, and how it was Sony's main rival to their PlayStation 2. The X-box, for me, was the winner between the two consoles. Offering better graphics, four controller ports from the outset (None of this multi-tap bollocks) and a built in hard drive as standard, it definitely gets the votes. (Yet I still have no X-Brick.. its main shortcoming being the sheer size of the unit) Sony may yet have the upper hand on the X-Box 360, that's still to be determined.

My theory is that Microsoft will create a portable gaming device that will use discs similar to the GameCube. Because of this, the games will be easily copyable using PC's. PC's that run Microsoft Windows. This means sales will rise, not only in the new game console's section of Microsoft, but also in the founding 'Windows section'. Not only will this pad out Mr Gates' already bulging back pocket, but will undercut the sales of Sony's UMD orientated PSP console. This is because Mr and Mr Average Gamer won't pay stupid prices for games when they can get them on the cheap. Microsoft will be making profit by seemingly making a loss, and Sony will see themselves back in the winter of 1992, staring at a seemingly good idea that was unfortunately put to waste, again.

Nintendo will no doubt show their face with yet another hand held system, but people can only have so much of Italian-American plumbers and every anime game under the sun. I'll give it to them though, they pretty much patented the idea of hand held devices.

Long live the old school Game Boy... Never before had Tetris reached the masses so freely!

To think, all that was spawned by a trip to Gamestation to buy some Ps1 games. Buy one get one free.. Can't go wrong really.

Which brings me onto my next topic of rant...

Rant : The General Public

This one's a pretty damn wide rant, but, the general public really yanks my crank!

First of all, after working at Argos behind the counter for four years, I've gained new empathy for anyone who has to spend all day dealing with the public. They can be the rudest, most obnoxious group of people anyone should have the mis-fortune to deal with. Speaking purely from a customer service desk point of view, my first point about people is that more often than not they want something for nothing.

One customer that stands out in my mind is one that was trying to return a clearly used microwave. Complete with grease and what looked like egg on the inside. (Obviously seen one too many episodes of Braniac) Apparently the microwave was like that when they bought it, and they'd never used it. Quite conveniently, they'd bought it at another Argos store. All of a sudden, it was my fault that I couldn't refund this unmistakably sub-standard microwave. Once they'd spoken to the manager and been told exactly the same by him, they accepted that they weren't going to be able to bully their way into a refund.

Also, just walking down the street, I often lose count of the amount of times I'm hit with some woman's handbag whilst she discusses "the drapes in Clara's back room" on her mobile phone, or almost lose my eyesight to some knitted tank-top wearing tosser with a golf umbrella.

Even on a clear day!! And no-one needs an umbrella that big, not even Hurley from Lost!

People walk into you because you must get out of their way. Listen, if you can't walk around someone at your age, you shouldn't be let out of the house.

Should you finally make it through the masses of unpleasantness and get to a street cafe, you sit down and try to relax - what should you find but someone's cigarette fumes drifting across your table. Oh happy day, how about a little lung cancer with your coffee sir?

Unfortunately, no matter how much I rant, people will still be bastards... its the Human psyche. You could argue I'm being exactly the same by ranting about it. You just can't win.

I'll leave you with this puzzlement to ponder...


How do stones know how to get into shoes, but never how to get out?

Laters x
3:25 PM 
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Saturday, September 02, 2006 

Category: Blogging
...The Earth Says Hello!!

Okie dokie, lets pick up where we left off.

So we arrived back at Dave's after camping, and he very kindly donated some dry clothes to me for the remainder of the day. That's why you should always become best mates with those the same size as you! We pretty much set off to the airfield straight away, picking up Laura on the way. It was on the way, that we discovered that Laura has quite a taste for road rage... and she wasn't even driving!

Arriving at the airfield, it turned out it was £10 a head to get in, and we couldn't even get pit passes because we knew a driver. After various phone calls, Duncan stepped up and paid us in. I feel that deserves a pint or four, but he'll have to wait - because I'm still a bum. The weather all day seemed to be controlled by Laura. Whenever she put up her umbrella because it was raining, the rain stopped, and whenever she donned a coat because it was cold, the sun came out. Laura has mystical powers that I'm not even going to attempt to explain. She can conjour a bus just by merely lighting a cigarette. A very valuable asset to the posse!

Like the true brits we are, we didn't let the weather get the better of us, and we soldiered on through the monsoons. Dave's mate came 4th out of five cars in his class, but he had the less powerful engine of the lot, so congrats to him.

It took Duncan two goes to get out of the airfield, but we eventually made it back to York, and I was dropped off at home. I grabbed a load of my crap from the boot and said my goodbyes.
As I walked into the back room of our house, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Some dickless wonder(s) had decided it would be rather fun to help themselves to a choice pick of our household possessions. They let themselves in though the patio doors, although if they'd have done it through conventional means, I believe there'd have been less glass shattered across the laminate flooring. All I could do was stare at the empty table where my laptop once stood alongside my digital camera and iPod.

Shock is a strange thing - you never think it will get the better of you, but the shock hit me like the titanic hitting an iceberg. All I could think to do was ring my mum, who was with the rest of my family at the time. Turns out you do get signal on a ferry in Zeebrugge. What a great way to end the holiday for them. I was pretty much no use for anything, so mum rang my auntie and my granma to help. My auntie got round at about 5pm, and rang the police to let them know about the robbery. They said they'd send someone round straight away. My granma turned up about an hour later, and she rang the police again. They then said burglaries are our top priority at the moment, someone will be with you in forty minutes"... Yeah right!

My auntie had to leave to get back to my cousin, but my granma stayed whilst my uncle came to board the window up, then she left too. Dave had gotten wind of what had happened in the meantime and rang to see if I was okay. He offered to come stay the night with me, which was very greatly appreciated. I definately choose best mates wisely. About half an hour later, I decided to check upstairs, because in the shock - I hadn't looked up there. My parent's bed was covered in what was letf of their drawer contents, my sister's money box had been wrenched open and emptied, and my draw of PS2 games had been emptied. There used to be a nice 38 games in there. It was at this point that a whole knew wave of shock hit me. The thought of some spineless bastard going through your things is bad enough - but it gains a whole new layer of shit when you find they've been into your bedroom too.

Dave and Duncan turned up just in time, I was a wreck at this point, and really needed some of the liquid refreshment in the form of budweiser they had brought with them. They also brought their big friendly German Wire-Haired Pointer, Mellors. I love that dog to bits! Dave rang the police again because they still hadn't turned up, and again they said they'd send someone round as soon as possible. The widely heard saying that "The police couldn't catch a cold" really does ring true.

I don't really know what it was - but the company really calmed me down. We sat and watched MTV and a few things i'd recorded onto the Sky+ box. At around midnight, the police finally showed their faces, and only 7 hours after my auntie had rung them as well! I thought there might be the off chance that they'd maybe do some actual police work. How stupid was I? They couldn't take a statement because the whole family wasn't present. What the hell kind of police force is this? I truly believe they couldn't force their way out of a paper bag! I'd clearly have more info on what had gone on, my mum was in the middle of the North bloody Sea at the time! They did however tell me that a CSI would be round the next day, and some more officers would be round in the afternoon to take a full statement.

In the morning, Dave and Duncan had to leave early, but I will always be eternally greatful for them coming round. Just after my parents got back off holiday, the guy from CSI:York turned up. Now he was the only part of the whole ordeal that I was actually impressed with. He clearly knew what he was doing, and wasted no time in getting some kick ass fingerprints from items. A true hero of the police force!

If I told you I was coming round in the afternoon, aside from thinking "Wait, I don't even know you, you long haired freak" you would be a mite confused if I turned up at half nine at night. Its a bit much when you have to live your whole day waiting for the police to maybe turn up. I gave my statement, and answered a few rather pointless questions, like "How tall are you". What the hell does that have to do with my house being burglarised?! Dave, who had been very patiently waiting, took me to the pub. All in all - a rather fitting way to end what was a shite end to what started out as a really legendary weekend.

On Wednesday, it was my 19th birthday, and I got me a new Marshall amp to wake the neighbours with. They may not have heard a six foot, double-glazed patio door being smashed, but they'll hear this!

Now - back to usual Jono's Rants behaviour

Crack Pot Theory #2

In addition to the government's plasto-teleportation technology, tax-payer's money has also been spent on implanting electrical cable with "learning" capabilities. At the time of manufacture, cables are programmed with a massive database of different knots. When in the "field" the cable uses this knowledge to interact with fellow members of the cable family. No matter how neat a user leaves the cable, as soon as the user turns their back, the cables will knot themselves. Quite often in simply impossible ways that would require one end of the cable to be unplugged. No documented evidence exists of the knotting process, but many accounts of the insanity that goes hand-in-hand with the un-knotting procedure exist. Some believe the cables implement some form of signal jamming technology to block anyone trying to record the knotting process. Others however, have shunned this idea, comparing it to mere paranoid speculation. Needless to say - this is yet another of the government's cover-ups that needs to be more widely documented. Keep your eyes peeled. (how painful does that sound though!)

I'll leave you with another conundrum to consider...

"They get on like a house on fire..."

How many houses on fire have you struck up a meaningful relationship with?!

Laters x
5:10 PM 
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Tuesday, August 29, 2006 

...This is a robbery!!
(Complimentary Tarantino quote for this blog)

I was sleeping soundly and rather happily on Saturday morning, only to be suddenly awoken by the soprano wailings of Mr. Matthew Bellamy pouring out of my phone. Staring at the clock in disbelief, I could only wonder what this strange symbol that resembled upside down 9 was. I wasn't aware times like this existed during the morning!
Unperturbed, I rolled outta bed, and ever the obsessive compulsive, glanced to see if my train tickets were still there. I smiled as I saw the letters GNER looking back at me, as I knew they meant in a few hours time, I would be strolling around London with the very lovely Ms Sarah Brockbank.

Determined not to have anything go wrong, or leave anything behind as per usual when I have a day out, I'd left my iPod and my phone on charge over night, and had even sorted out what I was goin to be wearing the night before!

I wasn't going to have anything go wrong today, because today was going to be absolutely perfect!

I got to just beyond the point where I wouldn't be able to make it back to my house and still catch the train in time when I realised that I had no iPod with me. To cheekily nab the somewhat nonsensical motto of the labour party, 'Things can only get better'.
Guess what... They did! - I got half price Opal Fruits (Starburst to you young 'uns) with my magazine purchases! The magazines were also wisely chosen it seems. An issue of "Guitar & Bass" will last you almost a whole train journey to London, not only informing you of all the latest and greatest goings on in the world of guitarists and bassists, but giving you just enough time to read the interview with Muse in the Kerrang mag before the train pulls into King's Cross Station.

Stepping off the train, I merely had to turn to my left to see the beaming grin of a Sarah bounding towards me. I could tell today was going to be as far from lame as is humanly possible! My instincts seemed to hold true. We went from Kings Cross to Lewisham via a combination of Underground train and Docklands Light Railway, and both managed to have a rather interesting discussion about how much it would rock if the train actually pulled into Jamaica through a bizarre chain of events involving blackholes. Oh yes, we're on the same level alright.

We arrived in Lewisham, and after a short walk we arrived at the abode of the Sarah, and I rather sheepishly introduced myself to her parents. I can't think of a time when I've been more afraid really. Oh well - I was soon happy with a bowl of Frosties. After I briefly changed rock history for the worse on Sarah's guitar, we headed out to Camden town. I should take this opportunity to thank Sarah for this, Camden Lock is such a brilliant place full of wonderment and freaky peoples! On an unrelated note (honest), its also where we met up with her baggy-trousered friend Lewis. We strolled through the aladdin's cave of Camden Market and I was very very tempted to buy so much random crap, but for some reason I didn't. There's always next time after all! Also - Next time you are in dire need of food and are near Camden, you have to get chicken noodles from the market. The best noodles I've ever had! We then went to sit in the middle of the actual Camden Lock, and discussed mouldy food and emo hats. The two subject matters really do sit hand in hand... no?, oh... Okay. Must just be me.

The plan of action after Camden was to go get some food, but because of unforeseen circumstances, that idea sailed its way down the crapper faster than a morning turd after a good curry. What started out as a meal at Pizza hut ended up in being a milkshake and a bagel at Kings Cross station. However, I didn't care - because I was still having the time of my life.
We said our goodbyes, and Lewis said a special goodbye by spilling milkshake on me. What a guy! I can safely say leaving Sarah was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do. We have so much fun together.

As far as the train journey home is concerned, I slept most of it. The good news that came from this is, I still have the Opal Fruits, and am contently munching on them as I type.

Sunday came, and I didn't experience much in the way of sleep that morning either. The reasoning behind that was that we had planned "Camping MkII" and I had to be up and ready for 10am. Turns out Laura was having Sunday lunch so things were postponed till 2pm, but once I'm up and out of bed - I find it absolutely impossible to get back to sleep. I spent the morning making up music CD's for the car on the way down, and the stereo when we'd got there.

My ability to make awesome compilation CD's for any occasion is quite widely known throughout my car driving friends. This is mostly down to my extensive music collection on my laptop, and my knowledge of my friend's musical tastes. For example, If I'm making a CD for Dave, I need to include some dancy tracks, as well as the odd Red Hot Chili Peppers one, and also some tunes for Laura aswell, because she will more often than not be in the car with him. However, if it's Duncan, I need to include some Barenaked Ladies tracks. Its a simple method.

Anyway, I'm getting away from the point here. I had my laptop set up on the back room table burning CD's, and the internet on my desktop PC where I was doin the whole MSN thang that I do. I'd just finished burning the last CD when Dave turned up, so in a rush, I turned off the laptop, grabbed my camping stuff, and headed out the door, making sure to lock it. don't want any burglars now do we?! We picked up Laura on the way back to Daves, then transferred all my junk to Duncan's Mondeo. We met the lads (no nutcase lasses this time) and proceeded to stock up on beer at Asda. We headed straight down the A64 to Pickering, with Paul's Mini seemingly pushing Zakk's poor little 1.1 car up the hills. Heading out across the moors to the camping spot, many a sing song was happening in the Mondeo, but as we pulled down the hill to the camping spot, a wave of horror swept the car - there were other people camping there. Shock! Horror!

Fear not however, out amazing spot by the forest was still untouched. Maybe the "Biological Hazard" tape they put round after we left last time stopped people, or maybe they couldn't be arsed to hump all their gear that far. Either way - we started to set up our tents.

If I was to introduce myself to someone I'd never talked to before, my choice of words would probably no go like "Hello, you're not going to like me, but..." Believe it or not, this is how the jobsworth park ranger greeted us as we pitched our tents. He proceeded to tell us that we couldn't start a campfire because we were on private land. (definitely working with some kind of contrived logic there) We went with what he had to say, then when he'd buggered off back to his big ol' posh house in his somewhat clean looking landrover, proceeded to start a campfire on the top of an old discarded BBQ that we'd found in the woods on the previous trip. What a prannet - must have thought he owned the moors or something. Well, as soon as we'd got a decent fire, the drinking commenced, and .. Pretty much didn't stop till we ran out. Think we'd brought about 4 crates of beer, and then random cans here and there, so a good night was had by all.

Just across the stream was a rather humongus hill covered in bracken and ferns... Prime real-estate for rolling down from the top. Oh boy that was so fun. Because this was a bunch of lads, things got silly - and I rugby tackled Duncan down the hill. About ten metres from the bottom of said hill, it gets substantially steeper. You cant see where this is as you roll down, so it comes as quite a surprise when you suddenly find yourself flying through the air and landing on each other with a rather large thud on the ground.

Unfortunately, the fabulous British summer weather showed itself, and to save the campfire/bbq combo, we had to retreat into the nearby forest. That was very cool, because it created a brilliant opportunity for me and Duncan to carry out some covert ops on the rest of the group. We went back to the tents to check up on them, then on the way back - decided to use the darkness and our stealth skills to sneak around the group and jump them from the opposite side. We crawled through the woods in prone, using the trees as our cover. We managed to crawl right up behind Laura's chair without anyone seeing or hearing us. Duncan had brought his blank firing Glock - and fired one round off into the air and scared the sweet bejeezus out of everyone.

Good times... Goooood times....

I was introduced to a new drinking game that night called "Fuzzy Duck" basically, for those amongst you who don't know the rules, you sit in a circle and everyone says "Fuzzy Duck" after each other around the circle. If someone says "Duzzy" the order is reversed, and the words are changed to "Ducky Fuzz". The automatic reaction to hearing "Duzzy" is to say "Duzzy Fuck" as it is the spoonerism of "Fuzzy Duck". If you say this - you have to take five gulps of your beer, (or however many shots you set it as). Needless to say - as the game progresses, more and more people get it wrong. Saying "Duzzy" three times without anyone else saying it also gets you penalised.

We returned to our tents and called it a night at around quarter to silly in the morning. I must say - that was the best night's sleep in a tent I've ever had!
In the morning, we had to get off early to get home and changed to go see one of Dave's acquaintances from Uni race his Formula Ford at a local airfield. That, however, is reserved for the next blog, as this one has become rather lengthy.

I shall leave you with this conundrum to consider...

Why are wires, no matter how neat you leave them, always tangled when you get back to them?
(I feel I may expand on this phenomenon in the future)

Laters x

3:07 PM 
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Friday, August 25, 2006 
...Hell yeah!!

I must admit, this week was nothing short of stellar. Starting out where the last post left off, the remainder of the Saturday was spent at Amy's barbecue. It was a typically British affair, owing to the weather, but what's an English barbecue without gazebos and soggy seating?! T'was a very cool barbecue, and I found a very interesting liking for frogs-legs and garlic flavoured crisps. After some very random talking about oysters and lightsabres with new friends Reena, Damo and Ryan, we moved indoors and whapped 8-mile on the box. After becoming rather bored with it, it was swapped it for Edward Scissorhands. I still stand at having never seen that film, as I joined Katie with her mum, dad and friends outside for a drink and drunken sing-song, (always fun!) then proceeded to conk out on Katie's bedroom floor.

On Tuesday, I officially opened my internet shop which can be found at www.cafepress.com/melontees . Hey if a guy can't shamelessly self promote himself on his own blog what's the world coming too?! Tuesday was also the day I gave Tom the thrashing of a lifetime at pool down the pub! However I gave him the pleasure of later driving down my road with me on the roof of his car. Ahh... The things I do for the sake of stupidity.

Whilst we're on the subject of stupidity... What the hell is up with cyclists these days?!

Rant : Cyclists

Right, first off - this is not a rant against all cyclists, because I am one. Well, used to be one - until my bike decided it'd had enough with life after the 30 mile bike ride. Anyway, this is a rant against those cyclists that feel that they follow a different highway code to everyone else on the roads! For instance, there's a road from my house to the next lil village down. Its quite a busy road, but its also quite short, so it is possible for people to use the footpaths there to walk the distance. There have been many occasions where I have been shouted at, usually by a rider who is considerably older than me, and should take only the smallest amount of their dwindling common sense to tell them they are in the wrong. More often than not, I'm verbally abused because I am in the cyclist's way on the footpath... The clue's in the name dingus! And its not just on backroads they do it either.
I can been walking through the middle of town, and some prickledick on a bike will fly past thinking he's Lance Armstrong himself, giving me an inch of leeway tops. Sometimes my arm does get a tendency to spasm right as the cyclist is next to me... I'm not sure if that's a medical condition. Maybe I should get it checked out?... nah!
What is quite fun to do is if there is a cyclist on the path coming towards you, play chicken with them. Its made a slight bit easier if you are with a friend. Spread yourselves out across the path. Its not uncommon that they will continue to cycle at you, refusing to move because you cannot possibly defy them as the measly pedestrian you are. The best part comes when you stand your ground and they have to swerve at the last minute. Me an my dad turfed a rather chavish guy on a bike into a hedge this way. Hours of mirth to be had!
Another thing that I can't seem to fathom about cyclists is their apparent colourblindness. Seemingly traffic lights don't apply to bikes. What's more, if the light is red and they do happen to see it - then its quite scarily accepted for a cyclist to mount the pavement with blatant disregard for pedestrians. Now, if the cyclist dismounts when they do this, there's no feasible problem... But I've hardly ever seen it!
Finally, why do cyclists on racing bikes feel the need to dress up like a day-glo sperm? What's it realistically going to do, get you to work that extra minute faster?! - All it really does is make you look like a prick!

On Thursday lunchtime, I received a phonecall from Dave and Duncan asking if I was free. This is not an uncommon occurrence however, I'm usually being asked if I wanna come to the pub, or fix a car or something. The difference this time was as follows...

"Hey Jono, what are you upto tonight?"
"Sod all..."
What are you upto tomorrow?"
"Sod all..."
"Right, you're coming camping"
"Erm..."
"Dave'll be round in 15, be ready"
"Ahh..."
*click*

I shall let it be known that I did know that a camping trip was being organised, I just figured I'd always get a little more than 15 mins notice. I basically grabbed my tent, and my guitar and I was ready. My sleeping bag is always at Dave's, so I figured they'd already have it. Like clockwork, the Allison brothers turned up outside, and I crammed myself into the back of a very tightly packed Peugeot 106. We went straight to Asda and met the rest of the lads, and worked out where we wanted to go. We decided on camping somewhere near the small residential lodge our old secondary school owns out on the moors, because we know the area, and Duncan plays silly buggers with his army "space" cadets there.
The three car convoy headed off towards our destination, but quickly became a two car convoy due to the trailing car becoming stuck behind two busses. (is two cars even a convoy anymore, or a chase?!) With only one screw up involving left being confused for right, we made it to the lodge and regrouped. We then decided on driving up to a part of the forest that Duncan had done cadet stuff in... (I dunno exactly what it is he does, but from his descriptions, its basically - scare the shit outta the recruits with lots of flashbangs) After about and hour or so of driving around the moors, we eventually found a perfect spot with flat ground, a stream, and a forest. What it may interest you to know is, if we'd have kept driving straight from the start instead of deviating all over the shop, we'd have gotten to the spot straight away. Oh well... Live and learn I guess.

What I failed to mention up until this point is that two of the group were in fact females. Let me tell you now, there are certain females that aren't made for camping - and these two females were prime examples. Me, Dave and Sam went off to try find some decent firewood to build a campfire with for later. Upon returning, we discovered that Emma had refused to put her tent up because she "Couldn't do it". Oh well, she could sleep outside for all I cared. She'd already clearly demonstrated that she was a 4yr old living in a 23yr old's body. Once we'd all sorted out the tents, (Emma's tent never did get put up) and the campfire was built, we proceeded to start the barbecue. For some reason, a few of us decided to whittle sticks... I dunno, its what you do when you're camping isn't?!
Miller started to show his pyromaniac tendencies by lighting the campfire with almost a whole can of lighter fluid... Meh, it seemed to get the job done anyway! As night began to draw in, the inevitable midges tucked into us... Well everyone except me it seems, I wasn't bothered by them. Maybe ginger people are the equivalent of quorn in the midge world. After seeing that the wood pile had been drastically diminished, we decided an expedition into the forest was in order. You'll be happy to hear all the relevant "Blair Witch" and "Predator" jokes were made, and enjoyed thoroughly. I even managed to scare the pure marmalade out of Miller with a chicken noise. We returned with many pieces of wood and got the fire going again. I broke out the old acoustic, and we sang drunken Tenacious D... it was a necessity!

After the sing song, we decided to take a night time stroll through the forest. It was needless to say - really bloody cool! I don't know what it is about only being able to see where your torch is pointing and being surrounded by absolute pitch black darkness, but its really fun! Once we came back from the night-time ramble, we found that Emma had indeed been drinking more alcohol. I really don't know why some girls cannot control their drinking intake, but she had become childishly drunk. She was battering the bonfire with a stick, and after being told to pack it in, she threw the smoldering stick over her shoulder onto a tent.

I guess some people just slip through the whole 'natural selection' net.

When we eventually did retire to the tents, I enquired as to the whereabouts of my sleeping bag. I found the reply quite amusing to be totally truthful.

"Oops"

I ended up sleeping in Duncan's army issue bivvy bag packed with clothes and towels to keep me warm. Twas comfy... Well, it would have been had the ground been level!

The sanity of everyone was pushed even further when Emma couldn't work out how to unzip her tent. I hung on to my pride desperately as I kept myself from wetting myself as Dave shouted "oh god! its a zip!" I swear I could see his temple throbbing!

I feel I showed Buddhist monk style concentration in keeping myself from murdering people that night. Just as I was nodding off, I was yanked well and truly back into the night when a can of deodorant that Miller had put on the fire decided to let itself be known. I could do nothing but laugh... What else can you do really!

I thought I'd collect a few of the best quotes from the day...

DISCLAIMER: The following quotes contain quite colourful language that Sam does enjoy using on a regular basis, much to the enjoyment of the rest of us! You have been warned.

  • "Oh wait... That's a sheep! - We've come too far!" (Duncan's less than able directional skills at play)

  • "Can I Drive?" (Duncan requesting to be put in control of Dave's car)

  • "Why does that smell like broken?" (Dave remarking on the smell of his brakes whilst descending a hill)

  • "Can I Drive?" (Duncan requesting to be put in control of Dave's car... Again)

  • "We can't camp here, there'll be Basque Separatist wombats stealing our cars!" (Sam's evaluation of the first place we had a look at)

  • "Can I Drive?" (Duncan yet again requesting to be put in control of Dave's car)

  • "Motherfucker! I've got a cunt in my shoe" (Sam exclaiming that he had an object in his footwear)

  • "Can I Drive?" (Duncan... Well - yes)

  • "Ray Mears sat for four days making a pair of skis out of branches once"
    "What a dickhead"     (Paul telling me about Ray Mears skills with a knife and a branch, and my reply)

  • "Can I Drive?" (...)

  • "Judging by your behavior, I thought you were a natural blonde" (Paul complimenting Miller's girlfriend in his own special way)
I'll leave it there I reckon, this one definitely got carried away. I shall leave you with a point to ponder...

If a bus stops at a bus station, and a train stops at a train station... What happens at a work station?

Laters x
7:28 PM 
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Saturday, August 19, 2006 

Category: Blogging
...Little Timmy's fallen down the well?!

Bollocks to him I say, it was clearly signposted!

Well, week one of Jono's parent-less holiday has gone down without a hitch! (Aside from forgetting to put the bins out, and nearly dis-connecting the house from the phone line!)

Tuesday night involved buying a crate of Budweiser, and sitting up watchin horror movies with Katie. I don't know if its just me, but I find horror movies extremely hilarious! I mean, in the movie we watched, the most hilarious part for me was when a woman wearing the skinned face of her husband as a mask, ran out into the road and was spread out by an eighteen wheeler. I haven't laughed that much since I was a little girl! Does this mean I'm deeply deeply disturbed, or so disturbed I've come straight out the other side into sane again?

On Wednesday night, Mr. Chris stayed over, and yes - we drank more beer, watched more movies, and ate more junk food. Its a life choice!! I shall take this moment to ask you to watch Lucky Number Slevin! I haven't seen such a clever movie since Fight Club!

After a good seven hours sleep, I got woken up at midday by Chris' foot meeting with my head. Thursday was A-Level results day, and Chris was a nervous wreck.. (bless him). We eventually got to the college, (albeit very slowly... More on that later) to see Neil with a face like a slapped arse. Now, those of you who know Neil may be thinking to yourself "How is that different to normal" but trust me, there a difference between Neil's regular face, and the face of Neil that was brought on by the reception of three grade U's in his A-Levels. Chris apprehensively trudged inside the building and got his envelope. His expression when he saw his results was what I can only describe as relieved! He claimed four C's that secured his place at university!

Congratulations to Christopher Newnham!

Unfortunately, the rest of the day's celebrations were cut short by the beautiful British pass-time of rain! We had planned to cycle to a local river, and rope-swing ourselves in, but it just wouldn't have had that same "fun factor" if it was already throwing it down. However, once his parental unit returned, we organised to go out for a meal. Was nearly the best 8oz sirloin steak I've ever had!

Friday morning was completely lost on me... No really, I woke up at 1pm! There really is nothing to report for Friday, seen as I did absolutely shit all, all day.

Today has been a different story however. After waking up at a more sane time of 9am, I scrambled around my bedroom for about an hour trying to find my railcard, but to no avail! After conceding defeat, I strutted on to the internet, and surfed my ass over to the National Rail website. I put all the relevant times and stations into the lil ticket price thing, and it came back telling me that there were no trains from York to London next Saturday. I can't type what I shouted at the computer, there could be old people reading. I don't want a geriatric coronary on my conscience!

Anyway, I was so narked off with the website, I went down to the station...

Rant: Public Transport

Why is it so hard to get places these days?! I decided to get the bus to the station, even though I know full well its quicker to walk because of the amazing traffic in York. I was told I couldn't get a return ticket to the station because it was cheaper to get two singles, which is fair enough, I'm not disputing the fact that its cheaper. However, the single on the way there cost me £1, the single on the way back, the same distance Cost me £1:50. Oh, 50p I hear you cry? Its not the point, I can't stand the fact that every bus driver in York has their own idea of what the fares are! And the busses themselves! Would it really cost that much extra to air-condition these bad-boys?

Enough about the buses themselves, its the strange code of practice people have on busses I worry about, and I'm guilty of it too. You get on the bus, and everyone is sat in their own seat. If there's no empty double seats, your brain goes into melt down! Do you sit next to the crinkly old person who looks like they could shuffle off the mortal coil at any given moment? Do you sit next to the hot chick without worrying about if you need a shower or not? or do you dare venture up to the back of the bus... into chav territory, complete with "Gav 4 Kezza 4eva!" graffiti and most probably a few hypodermics here and there? Suddenly you think "How far is it to my stop?, Could I stand all the way?!".Then if you do decide to stand all the way, you get an inkling sense of paranoia as every person on the bus is seemingly looking at you. All that's happened is you are at the front of the bus, and that also happens to be the way all the seats face. But the inkling is still there!

Then there's the whole issue of standing up to let older passengers sit down. Now, I am a good citizen, I let old folks have a seat on the bus if there's no-where to sit. At least I did till I offered one old woman my seat and I was attacked with her walking stick and called a "Cheeky young beggar!" - You just can't win can you?! Although, I did feel a little better when I sat back down and the guy next to me muttered "Sour old bitch"

Having eventually reached the station, I strolled across the road and gave a big wave to the jolly ol' big issue seller who's always there.. He's a legend!
Standing in the queue for the tickets, I nearly managed the whole of Black Holes & Revelations by Muse on my iPod. Got to about the 9th out of 11 tracks.. What does that say about the commitment to customers that G.N.E.R. have?!

Turns out - www.nationalrail.co.uk is the biggest pile of crap this side of the pennines. They quoted the cheapest way for me to reach London for a day as being £49 for a return with a railcard. I managed to get two singles (there and back.. I checked) without a railcard for £48! That price knocked the hatred for bus travel straight outta my short term memory! Turns out trains ain't that bad after all.

As soon as I got back onto the bus that was waiting outside the station (Which for some reason didn't drive off when I was within two metres of it) my iPod froze up, and is still frozen up as we speak (read). This brought my hatred for bus travel firmly back into my short term memory!

That'll just about do it for this post ah reckon...

I shall leave you again with another breaking news story..

Two ships have just been reported as having collided in the Atlantic. The first ship was painted red, the other blue. Reports are coming in that the survivors were marooned.

Laters x
4:06 AM 
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Sunday, August 13, 2006 
...Supplemental.

Stardate, ... umm... August I guess.

Well, there's not really much to report on seen as I've reached the very dregs of my wallet and had to live a very cheeky existence of sponging from Chris. For which I'm eternally grateful by the way. He gives me beer and a sleeping bag.. What else could a guy need.

Progress report: The Produce Accelerator

Preliminary construction completed, however, field tests are still yet to be carried out. (rather rightly named because they are tests in a field) The secondary project of a home-made flamethrower 'fuel-injected patio heater' is still in the planning stages. A trip to B&Q/Wickes is definitely in order.

As of 3:00pm today, my holiday officially started. I am the soul inhabitant of the house for a whole fortnight! I love the independence, and the lack of hormonal brattage running around in a hissy rage. Its also the best holiday I could wish for, two weeks away from my family beats the living potatoes outta any luxury beach resort any day!

I have spent a good portion of today using the power of the internet to teach my very good friend Sarah one of my newly written guitar tunes. The critics say its a good tune, I was just twiddling around when I came up with it. Oh well, it keeps me in a job... Wait - no it doesn't!

The ever impossible chore of getting one's self a job is still continuing. Having been denied a place at a video store because I'm "Overqualified" for the job, (Means I'm to smart for them to jerk my hours/pay around) and also denied a place at a hardware store because "They realised they have enough people working after all" (Which as excuses go, is about as weak as a paper towel in a washing machine) I'm beginning to lose hope of ever seeing any notes holding the resemblance of our monarch ever again in my life.
What I really need to do is write a covering letter for my CV, and send it off to printing/graphic design places. However, that's easier said than done. How does one sell one's self to a graphics firm when one dropped out of graphic design national diploma after 6 months because the teachers were crap?!

Oh well, I'll just copy Tom's and have done with it...

Crack Pot Theory #1

There's a secret government organisation that has created a plastic with teleportation capabilities.

...No, really - hear me out!

What do you think they use to make those bic biro's from?!

Ah-ha!... See!

When you put your pen down, it's programmed to wait until you are not looking, then it teleports to down the back of the nearest sofa. You will never see this occur, because it uses state-of-the-art plasto-teleportation technology, but it happens none-the-less.

The government have also been working on implementing this new technology into guitar picks. It is a tricky procedure because of the size of the pick, but they have somehow managed it. Picks are disappearing left right and centre. Whenever the guitarist's back is turned, the pick utilizes it's inbuilt programming, and is gone. However, unlike the pens, the picks are never found again. This leads me to the conclusion that they to teleport to another dimension. The government have never made an official statement on this matter, but a number of scientists have traced it to a bug in the programming of the picks.

We must keep a close eye on this ever present, and alarming phenomena, as it is becoming increasingly more-common!

On that note, I feel I should give the psychiatrists a rest and head off.

I leave you with news that police have been following a magic tractor driving through the back roads of central England, they lost the tractor when it turned into a field.

Laters x
3:27 AM 
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