At the airport.

I'm at the airport as I type this and other than the keyboard being shit all is going well.

I'm just about to check in as soon as I post this. People rush around me wondering no doubt what I'm doing swearing at an internet kiosk.

I'm sure that the looks they're giving me are looks of pity, or possibly hatred. It's the yelling at the kiosk no dout...

Now I'm off to check in. Stay happy.

2 minutes until D-Day.

D-Day approaches with the stealth and guile normally reserved for SAS soldiers and Solid Snake.

Not D-Day in the sense of World War II when the allied troops stormed the beaches at Normandy, D-Day as in Departure Date.

At this time tomorrow I'll be in the same blue skies as the allied pilots were on that day but my cargo is not to be large bombs and a lust for the death of innocents. My cargo is to be one of hope, peace and love. Or to put it more truthfully, I Hope there is rum on board, that I get Peace from screaming kids who may be traveling on the same flight as I am and Love for those sexy stewardesses in short skirts with succulent thighs and sexy smiles.

Because of this I do not know whether or not I will be posting on my blog tomorrow but please check back just in case.

Sleep well and stay happy folks. I know I will.

Anna and the king

While I was at work today I spent a little time considering whether I should attempt making a pass at an Ex-Presidents wife...

Before you start thinking I was considering flying out to the United States to ask Hillary Clinton if she fancied a romp in the hay with me, allow me to set you straight. I think Hillary is sexy in her own unique way but I'd rather not lube her up and jump on board for a trip on the good ship Hillary. All things considered I think I'd much rather dig up Washington's merry widow Martha Dandridge Custis and fuck her up the mucky windpipe on an all channels International TV broadcast...

For the sake of the woman involved in my sordid little fantasy I will call her Alicia Webber...

This, of course, is not her real name. Her real name is Anna Anderson, but I'm not about to put that up on here so everyone can see it and know of my shameful lusting over a married woman. That would be plain stupid...

Alicia Webber* has an alluring quality to her that I find an immense turn on. Sure, she's old enough to be my mother but by God I'd give her a right good shag. No Viagra would be needed at all. No lubrication either I suspect, as the way Alicia* looks at me with lust in her eye lets me know for sure she's wetter than the Captain of the Titanic.

I wonder if she'd go down as quick? Or take as many seamen with her? Ho ho.

Make mine a double.

It is said by some people that everyone has a double somewhere in the world. A Doppelganger, Spitting image, Counterpart, Duplicate, Facsimile... Call it what you will. It would seem that I have one.

His name is Shaun Murphy and he is a Snooker player who has reached the Semi finals of the Embassy World Snooker Championship in Sheffield.

I personally can't see the resemblence but I'll let you lot be the judge of that by putting up a picture of him...

And a picture of me...

All I have to say is that some people at my work should lay off the beer for a while...

He is a handsome looking swine though. In fact, he's so handsome I'd fuck him. And I aint gay.

Fuck me....

Friday has arrived. Which means that, technically, I have only one more day until i'm off to Africa for the month.

When I went in to work today I was asked by Nikki if I was excited. I say asked, what she actually did was jump up and down like an overgrown kid while screaming at me "Are you excited? huh? huh? Are you?" This grew rapidly tiring for me. I let her know this was my current emotional state by telling her to stop it or I'd be forced to terminate our friendship by giving her a right good kick in the cunt. She told me to cheer up and stop being such a grumpy bastard....

I would have resented that remark if it were not for the fact that at that present time she was correct. I was being a grumpy bastard. But that's me. Love me for who I am, or fuck off out of it and stop bothering me... Ho ho.

The time I spent at work today dragged by very slowly and I was forced to while away the night by spending 5 hours watching TV and bitching about how much british TV sucks. Do I have a tough job or what? Answers to the usual address...

At 9pm while I was flicking through the channels I stumbled across the performance channel and was delighted, nay, overjoyed, to see that Neil Young was playing an accoustic set. I went into the bar and poured myself a nice long Skippers Rum and Coke with ice and settled down to watch.

Just as I was almost perfectly comfortable a member of the club walked in and asked me to "Switch that shite off and put the snooker on." He was rapidly told to remove himself from my view. Actually, I told him to fuck off. He took the hint, thankfully, and I settled down to watch Neil Young play some of his best, and most loved, songs.

I sat listening to Neil Young and the words he sang, if you can say that about Neil's vocal talents, seemed to me to be painting pictures in my head. Pictures of loves lost, Loves never chased, Dreams never fulfilled and quests and questions left unknown and unanswered. I certainly felt a connection with his style of music. Perhaps I was reading too much into it. Who knows...



And now as I have another shift to do at the club in 9 hours time I'm off to bed. Stay happy.

What is a guy to do...

When faced with the thought of sitting beside a swimming pool drinking rum?

Get stuck right in like everyday is your last. 'Cos one day it will be so.

This is the pool I'm to be sat next to. Damn it's tough being me. Yeah, Righty ho.

Ho ho.

It's the little things in life that truly make you glad to be alive at this moment in history.

Little things like... Strong coffee, Strong joints, Music and Laughter.

At the present moment I have a strong coffee and music. No joints for me. I've quit for the time being. Laughter is never very far away.

I have only two days to go until I fly off into the wild blue yonder to sample life in Africa. A whole month of lazing around drinking rum and taking it easy. It's difficult for me to put into words the feeling I have with regards to what I feel will be a profound step on the journey that is my life. So in order not to descend into mere blabbering I won't attempt it.

All I know right now is that I have the opportunity to begin living. Truly living. Not just existing from one day to the next. Living. And that can never be a bad thing.

Not one person on this planet knows where life will take them. Some never get enough life, some never get enough time and some never get the chance to change.

This is a chance for me to start living by my own rules. Bring it on. I'm ready for the rollercoaster to begin...

I was worried for a minute.

I was reading through my booking details today for my trip to Africa and spotted something that made me almost shit in my pants. I aint done that for almost a year now. I was very drunk at the time... Don't ask.

What I spotted while reading through the flight details was this paragraph...

For other than UK departure, please check locally with the outbound airline. We recommend that you contact your airline directly to reconfirm onward or return flights 72 hours prior to departure. Reconfirming your first flight is not necessary.

Holy Fuck! Thought I, It's less than 72 hours until I fly out and I haven't done that. Oh Bugger.

So in a slight panic I picked up the phone and dialed Expedia on their customer helpline. The call was answered by a very nice guy named Steven who informed me that the flights were A-OK and not to panic about it. It turns out that this is merely a precaution for people who would like the peace of mind of talking to a real person rather than trusting to modern technology.

I haven't felt so relieved since the last time I shit myself...

Another day....

Passes and I thank the Big Kahuna for giving me this gift called life. Well done that Man... Being, Entity, Spirit, Illusion, Dream, Abstract. Whatever; You know what I'm driving at.

If there is a Big Kahuna out there somewhere, floating around in the Grand Theatre of life, I'm pretty sure it makes sure that struggle leads to enlightenment. You just have to walk the path. But, what path should you walk? Whatever one you want. 'Cos it wants you to....

There was a sunset tonight so beautiful.

Get your rocks off.

Primal scream is blasting out my stereo and I'm in a great mood.

Not only because I have the day off today, but because I have only two more shifts to do at work and then I'm off for a whole month. Bring it on.

Turn up the music and dance like a mother fucker... Stomp your foot like Hells Angels when they capture a Narc at a biker rally... Let it all go... Paint it Black and let the sound take you away. Turn on, Tune in, Drop out... Jump, dance and sing along with Bobby Gillespie, Mick Jagger and Grace slick... Play that funky music white boy... Free your mind and the rest will follow...

Most importantly; Laugh, Cry, Scream and L♥ve. Do anything and everything that the Gods feel they should let you get away with.

Headaches and heartaches.

I have a headache that is bouncing in my temples like a fat person on a trampoline. Neither a pleasant image or a pleasant feeling.

I wish I had someone to rub my temples. Or some painkillers.

Green Eyed Girl.

May I hold you in my arms?
May I take you by the hand?
Can I help you find the way
To the golden sands?

Can I kiss your eyelids
While you dream of me?
Could I ever hold your heart
Oh so tenderly?

If you let me hold you close
Would it take away the pain
Can I break down all your walls
And help you love again?

Can you see what is in me?
Longing to be free
I can see what you can be
With or without me.

To K.

Why do they do it?

It has always been a question asked by tourists to the City of Edinburgh.

"Why does a cannon fire at one o'clock from the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle?"

Here is the reason... To scare the shit out of tourists.

Tomorrow is only a day away.

As it should be.

I'll be going to the Gyle shopping centre to get my £'s changed to Rand in the morning. I'll be accompanied by my friend Steff as a precaution against me yelling at, or making a grab for the throat of one, or more, of the many Mall Rats that travel in packs like Hyena's in Hilfiger jeans and Helly Hansen jackets.

It wouldn't be the first time I've made a lunge for one of the swine either. It's happened before and it will no doubt happen again.

It was last summer while I was sitting in Princes Street Gardens reading a book and passing the time by doing some people watching. A burberry clad Ned deemed it necessary that he, and his tribe of morons, verbally abuse a young Italian female tourist I was sitting next to relentlessly. When her friend spoke up to defend her the Burberry clad Ned began threatening them both with a "chibbing."

I snapped.

"Oi, Fuckwit!" I yelled. "How d'yae ya fancy a right good fucking kickin' fae me?"
"Aye man? c'moan then radge. I'll huv ye. Sittin' there wi yer wee book like yer Sir Walter Scott. Bring it oan, big man..." He said. His cronies laughing uproariously at the almost intelligent joke he had made. I stood up from where I was sitting and asked the Italian girl next to watch my book and bag for me. "I'll be back in a minute." I said.

I walked over to the Ned and stared him straight in the eyes.

"Feeling brave big man?" The Ned leader asked with a threatening tone in his voice as his hand reached into his pocket. No more words were spoken. I turned my head slightly to one side, arched my back and headbutted him right on the bridge of his nose. He crumpled to the ground with a groan. I kneeled down and placed all my weight onto his chest to prevent any ideas of him getting up and having a go at me. I looked up at his gang of friends and asked, "Anyone else want some?" They all shook their heads and whimpered variations on the theme of "No."

I stood up and walked back over to the bench I had been sitting on, picked up my book and bag, smiled at the two Italian tourists on the bench, suggested they may want to find somewhere else to sit and watch Edinburgh go by and walked away from the scene.

Whatever happened to the Ned I do not know. All I know is that the next time he feels like showing off in front of his friends he'll think twice and possibly take a few nervous glances around himself to make sure I'm not in the general area.

Out of pure chance I bumped into the Italian tourists the next again day. It turned out that they were on a holiday with their school and their teacher wanted to thank me for standing up for his pupils. I told them both that thanks were not needed and that I hoped that they would do the same thing if the situation was reversed.

"Probably not." they answered in unison. Ungrateful bastards,

Dull day.

I have to do three more shifts at my work. Bummer.

I got up particularly early (9am) today to get my arse over to the bank to cash my wages cheque. I was mildly surprised when the, rather attractive, teller informed me that my cheque was cleared and that my cash was sitting in my account. I expected it to take a couple of days to clear. Mucho Supriso for me.

When the teller told me that my cash was in my account I must have looked pretty stunned as she asked me if I was feeling alright. Perhaps it's the vacant and somewhat retarded look that I adopt when put into a situation I can barely comprehend.

"Did you just say that the cash was in my account?" I asked.
"Yes. Isn't that what you wanted?" She replied, while looking at me with what seemed to be pity in her eyes for the retarded monkey boy that she was currently faced with.
"No, I mean yes... That was quick. I was expecting it to take a couple of days." I said, in a moment of confusion.
"I can deposit the cheque in your account if you want and it'll clear sometime on Monday morning if that's more convenient for you." She said, smiling.
This caused me to panic and blurt out "Fuck No, Shit, Argghhh, Help, Oh Fuck.. Don't do that. Please, I beg you. I need that money ASAP I'm off to Africa on Saturday and need to get it changed into Rand. Please stop typing into your computer.... Oh shit. Help, Police, Army, Coastgaurd... Mother..."

She explained to me that she was merely answering an internal E-mail and I calmed down to a mild panic, smiled weakly, picked up my receipt and cash card and left the bank before the poor girl took to pressing the alarm button beneath the desk to summon the appropriate authorities to have me removed from the bank.

Bedtime for Bonzo.

Tuesday is now upon me.

I have four days until I fly out to Africa. I've got to get up early tomorrow to go to the bank to put my wage check into my account so it clears Asap. Hopefully it'll clear with haste and I can get out to the post office at the Gyle Shopping Centre and get my money changed from Sterling to Rand.

Because of this, I'm off to bed. Night all.

Coffee from the gods.

I had a religious experience yesterday.

I discovered a coffee that made me light up like a nuclear powered Xmas tree. It's called Rocketfuel and it contains not only coffee but has added Guarana to give it that little extra kick. And what a kick it is. I had one cup of Rocketfuel (Two teaspoons of Rocketfuel, Three sugars.) at 4pm on Sunday afternoon and it kept me as alert as a Doberman Pinscher with electrodes attached to it's balls until at least 6am on Monday morning.

I've taken better drugs that kept me awake and alert better than this new coffee but they were all totally and utterly illegal. This coffee will only be equaled when Amphetamines become available at your local, legitimate, chemist and Pro Plus comes in Long-Distance-Truck-Driver strength. Trust me on that. Or buy a jar of Rocketfuel and lift the top off your head.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness...

Unless you have the same dictionary as I do, In which case it's next to Claymore and directly above Cleat.

I've just spent the last hour or so cleaning my flat. The dirty dishes are no longer piled up so they look like a Damien Hurst homage to the tower of Pisa... There is no longer a pile of clothes in the washbasket that bare an uncanny resemblance to the Jim Henson junk monster from the movie "Labyrinth." However, It's highly possible that by doing the dishes I've inadvertently killed off a cure for several diseases. After all that's how Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin.

The ashtrays are so clean I feel guilty using them. But, I can't leave the house in a shit state for a month now can I? Yeah, OK, I probably could but it wouldn't look very good now would it? Not that I really give a flying fuck about what state the house is in. That's the last thing that will be on my mind when I'm sitting on a beach in South Africa drinking Rum.

Fort Edinburgh.

I went down to Leith today to buy some mozzie repellent and ended up buying an army issue kevlar squaddie helmet. I love it. The looks of shock and confusion on peoples faces when they saw me walking towards them wearing my Terrorist T-shirt, a desert camouflage kevlar helmet and aviator sunglasses were priceless.

My friend Steff could hardly keep a straight face watching almost everyone on Princes' Street do double takes that were strong enough to break their necks. I took it all in my stride. I'm used to being looked at like I'm nuts. I have been getting those looks for years now.

What do you think of my newest hat to add to my collection?

To someone never known.

Some things I never said
and some things I said too much
never did I let you know
death is but a door
righteousness made sure you got a new life
and you live on in my heart.
My mother lives on
inside my mind
making me want to continue
seeing you in my minds eyes keeps me sane.

For Krissy.

It's a common misconception...

That we Scotsmen wear kilts at all times.

So why is it still the first thing someone asks me online when they find out I am Scottish? Anyone got a clue? Come on, little help here...

Perhaps it is because of the worldwide stereotype of the Scottish man being mostly garnered from shortbread tins that are punted relentlessly to the people that visit this country. You know the type, they stop you in the street and ask questions along the lines of "What time do the highlands close at?"

Don't laugh. That was actually a question I was asked by an American visitor to Edinburgh Zoo when I worked there. I had to fight the urge to choke the braindead fuckwit.

And that isn't even the half of it. A friend of mine who used to work in the tourist office was once asked by a tourist "When does the castle get taken down for the winter?" I shit you not. What kind of lead based substance would you need to swallow to ask when something as large as this....

Gets taken down for the winter?

I have no idea who said "A country gets the leadership it deserves." But judging by comments from American tourists that I've heard in my time I now realize why George W Warmonger is the leader of the pack. It makes you wonder...

Picture courtesy of Peter N Lewis. Click here to visit his site.

Online Pool Petition.

Please sign this petition to have spam programs removed from Yahoo games.

Open to all voices, Sane and insane.

I have only just discovered that I am able to allow anyone to post a comment on my postings.

Please feel free to post any comments on any of my posts. Interaction is a gift.

"I wish to register a complaint"

About mobile phone ringtones.

Which retarded fuckwit thought up the idea that people would like to have their phone play a favorite themetune or chirp, bleep and fart at them? 'Cos I want to throttle the mother fucker.

I'm sick to death of hearing the Crazy Frog or Chirpy the Chicken chime into my ears. Nor do I want to hear the theme from the A-Team, Rocky or any other Movie/TV based shit. If I want to hear the theme from Rocky, guess what? I'll watch the fucking movie.

It's not only mobile phones that have these fucking things on it. TV advertisers have cashed in on this mindless fad and have produced commercials to push this evil into the collective unconscious. You cannot turn on your TV now without seeing the Crazy Frog at least three times in each commercial break nor can you go a day without hearing it on someone's mobile.

I have, on one occasion, had to sit and listen to 27 individual ringtones. I felt like punching the person who asked me to listen to them all. But whipping out an arm and whacking your 11 year old nephew in the face is, for some reason, frowned upon.

I've had enough. I'm going to bring out a ringtone. My ringtone will consist of my voice screaming "Answer your fucking phone... Answer your fucking phone... Answer your fucking phone..." This may, at first glance, strike you as not very productive but think of it this way... Phones will be answered very promptly and no-one will let the bloody thing ring for much longer than it takes for the ringtone to scream "Answer your.."

A good thing I'm sure you'll agree...

"Ahh, Johnny. Dear, Dead Johnny."

Sir John Mills died last night.

Read more here. If you give a fuck. I don't so I'm not gonna read about him. You, however, may.

6.

Days to go until I fly off into the big blue sky to stay in Africa for a month.

Tommorow I'm going down to Leith to the Army Store to purchase some mozzie reppelent. Then it's into Gorgie to get my hair cut. I'll also be popping into the bank to get my wage cheque into my account.

After that I'm going to be coming back to my flat to tidy up and do the final packing of my backpack.

Lucid in the sky with diamonds.

Lucid dreaming is something I have been trying on and off the last few months.

I'm now getting to the point where I am aware of when I'm dreaming and am able to exercise control over my dreamscape. I gotta tell you, it's a whole lotta fun. Not only is it fun but it seems to have lifted me out of this strange funk I've been in for the last couple of days. Good news all around really.

Whatever happened.

To the spirit of the 1960's?

The all-you-need-is-love generation has grown up, got jobs and joined in the capitalistic gangbang of modern day life.

The 60's spirit lives on in the hearts and minds of the few and the proud, and us dreamers keep dreaming of a world where love is unconditional.

The hippy lives on in music, poetry and books. The love resides within your own heart. Open the door and take a peek. It won't hurt. It'll free your mind. You'll see the wonder of the world laid bare before your eyes. Every living thing will befriend you as though you were it's brother. Just because you are.

We are all joined in this ride called life. All our lives sprung from one small spark many Billions of years ago. What that spark was we may never know. Rest assured it was created with unconditional love in its heart and mind.

Meet everyone in your life with an open heart and an open mind and you will not go very far along the wrong road. Goodness and love will guide and assist you when you feel the need for solace. The ultimate being watches over you. 'Cos it knows you.

A grand and a half.

I've just checked my statcounter log, to see who's reading me, and I've just discovered that my blog has had 1500 hits since I set up my counter.

There are websites that get millions of hits per day and I'm getting a boner over 1500 hits. It's kinda sad I know but, fuck it. I get a certain sense of self satisfaction from knowing I'm being read.

Who cares anyway? My blog may not be getting hits like google or be as popular as many other blogs but I am enjoying writing it and some people are enjoying reading it. That's what it's for.

Nonsensical sayings.

Have you ever got the urge to choke the shit out of someone? I have. Many times.

I hit upon this feeling yesterday when I was wandering around at work looking for something. A member of the club asked me what I was doing. "I'm looking for something." I said.
"I bet you it's in the last place you look" came the reply.
"No shit?" I said sarcastically, "It's hardly likely to be in the second last place I look now is it? 'cos if it were there I'd stop fucking looking!"

Buckley and blue skies.

The twanging slide guitar of Jeff Buckley plays the haunting melody of the Lost Highway as I sit staring out of the window of my flat.

The sky is so deep and blue I feel if I threw a stone high enough I could make ripples in the skies.

No clouds slide from horizon to horizon. No contrails from aircraft exhausts slice across the skies. The only things that flies today is the birds. Sparrows flit from branch to branch teasing each other with proud songs no man will ever understand.

Flowers, of a blue that matches the skies, peek out from the carpet of grass and stare with wonder into the glare of the sun. Seeking it's warmth and it's life giving rays.

Insects fly with determination and purpose from flower to flower collecting pollen to take back to their nests to feed their young and continue the cycle of life.

Is this a dream?

For some strange reason...

I am still in my deep funk.

Beer and joints are not helping me to lift myself from out of the rut I'm in at this moment in time, though they did help me sleep the sleep of the dead last night. I went to my bed at quarter past 6 last night, and after swilling down three bottles of carlsberg lager and smoking three or four strong joints I crashed out.

It's weird that I am in a funk at this moment in time. I have no reason to be in a funk. I'm off to Africa for a month in a weeks time, I should be bubbling along on a little cloud of pre-holiday fuzzyness. I should be buzzing along smiling, like a politician at a pre election rally, like a celebrity when they see free cocaine, like a boy racer when he has the keys to a Ferrai F40 or a ned when he manages to be served alcohol at the local corner shop without being asked for ID, but I'm not.

Perhaps it is the thought of not returning to Edinburgh after my month in Africa that has caused this funk. Who knows? Not me.

The countdown continues.

Eight days to go until my African adventure gets underway.

I've been somewhat of a lazy shit the last few days. I have done nothing productive what so ever. Not a bolt. I've very rarely posted anything as the more observant of you will no doubt have noticed. Truth be told I've been in a kind of a funny mood these last few days. I've been irritable, stressed and short fused. There's nothing unusual in that, but I still feel I'm in a funny mood.

It could just be tiredness. I've only slept three hours in the last two days.

Which is why I'm going to finish this post then go straight to my bed with a cup of lemon tea and a nice strong joint. Sounds like a killer idea to me. But, first I gotta finish this post.

I have no idea what this mood I'm in is. It's nothing I can put a name on, If it were depression I'd say I'm depressed and be done with it. But, I can't. So I won't. I could call it a deep funk, 'cos it certainly feels as though I should call this strange mood a deep funk. Yeah, that's what I'm going to call this mood. Problem solved. I'm in a deep funk. If you need me I'll be in my bed with my funk to keep me warm, a joint to knock me out and a cup of lemon tea to spill onto my duvet.

Sunshine and blue skies.

The sun is shining here in Edinburgh.

I've hit a minor puzzle with regards to my African trip. Innoculations. Do I need em? Fucked if I know. According to some sources I don't need any and according to others I do. This is causing much confusion for me. I have an appoinment with my Doc on Tuesday so if I do need any he'll sort me out. Here's hoping it won't fuck up my holiday. Who knows.

The final countdown.

10 days to go until I fly out to South Africa.

10. The number of commandments Moses allegedly was given by God. The basis for the decimal system. The number of shoes quintuplets need. My age in 1981. Etc etc etc...

Today I have given more thought to hopping off the return flight from SA to Frankfurt and traveling about Europe for a while. I really can't think of a reason not to.
I am constantly whining that I have nothing to write about and this chance lands in my lap like a gift from the gods. It's almost as if the Big Kahuna itself was reading my blog somewhere and thought to itself, "He wishes for adventure and discovery? Thus it shall be. Pass me another beer Hicks, and leave that cherubim alone..." Or maybe not. I'd like to think it's true.

What the fuck do I have to lose? Correct, nothing. More thought needs to be done on this though so I'll leave it for now.

The price to pay.

I would usually stay up late and post lots of little titbits, or tidbits for the American readers, of emotion, madness and moose skating grace on the average Tuesday PM/Wed AM but I have work tommorow and need to get some sleep in.

The reason I have work tommorow is that I'm doing a favour for my boss, Willie. Or Bobo as I like to call him. I don't think he gets the joke. Yet... I hope he doesn't get it at all. At least not if I'm within arms length anyway.

So rather than sit here and type out small nuggets of random brain turds I'm off to bed.

Waves from Scotland.

This post is really just to say hello to Lena.

Thanks for reading so much of this blog.

Utterpants? Utter bastards.

It's not often I get mad. I'm not the getting mad type. But, on occasion I get a little miffed at how people treat each other.

In this post I asked for opinions on a piece of writing I had done. (I only got one comment but that's not what this is about.) The reason I wanted opinions was that an editor at Utterpants.co.uk wanted to put it on the utterpants site and wouldn't let it run as it was. After reading the edited version I wasn't sure if the piece still had my style to it. I didn't think it did. I felt it had lost the inner voice that I strive to put into everything I write.

I did send a couple of tongue-in-cheek e-mails to the editor of utterpants asking why such a "brutal hack job" had been done to my piece but I honestly wasn't that bothered about it. As long as I got the credit for writing the piece and that there was a link to my site at the bottom of the page I was reasonably happy. Now, though, I'm really hacked off.

I'm hacked off as I have just this minute found out that my altered piece has been pulled from Utterpants to, I assume, prevent people from commenting on the good and bad parts of both pieces. I think this is not only very low but also down right fucking rude.

In the spirit of human fellowship I have pinged off a mail to the editor of utterpants to find out what the reason for pulling my piece is but I am not holding my breath for anything other than a mail citing bullshit excuses...

And now I'm really fucking hacked off. Not only are my mails being pinged back to me but I have also been removed from the forum on utterpants so I have no easy way of finding out why my piece was pulled.

Click here for the google cache of the edited piece.
Or Click here for my original version. Or here for the original version on The Spoof.

Utterpants? Utter shite. Fuck 'em.

11 days and counting.

Oh the excitement... In 11 days time I shall be flying out to Africa.

The question of not returning is playing heavily on my mind. I'm giving some serious thought to chucking this life in for a few months of traveling around Europe. And, It is entirely within my grasp. All I have to do is decide. Make the choice. Take the chance. Roll the dice.

My return flight from South Africa is routed through Germany and there is nothing stopping me from not boarding the Germany-Edinburgh flight and doing whatever takes my fancy. I've always had an inkling to see more of the world and this is my perfect opportunity to do just that. Why the hell not? What do I have to lose? Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zip. Fuck all.

Sure, it's a gamble but everything is a gamble... Crossing the road is a gamble, flying is a gamble, eating in Mexican restaurants is a gamble, attempting to screw your friends girlfriend is a gamble... Life is one big gamble. If you don't take the chance you'll never win. Or, you'll never know. Which is worse? Never knowing or never trying?

It's not as if I'm going to lose the respect of friends and family, there's no chance of that happening. In fact, my best friend Steff said to me yesterday that he would be overjoyed if he didn't see me for a year. Though I'm not sure if he meant that in a nice way or that he'd be glad to see the back of me for a while. Just kidding. I know he meant it in a nice way.

As for losing the respect of my family, well, I know that they all, as one, would be happy for me that I had decided to do something more with my life than spend it pissing my time away in Edinburgh smoking too much dope and drinking too much booze.

Thought must be given to this on a deeper level than I am usually accustomed too. But, I'm up for that. I have the power of independent thought. And the chance of an independent life. Freedom beckons. Dare I answer the call?

No comment.

I have absolutely no idea what to write about tonght. None. Not a jot, iota or clue. This is possibly as I have nothing to write about, but I'm no professional so don't quote me on that. I think it may be down to the fact that I spent exactly 1 hour and 47 minutes stuck on a freezing cold bus while I trudged out to gorebridge to visit my Mother.

I don't resent having to visit my Mum, far from it. (I have to say that. She reads this.)
I do, however, resent having to deal with ignorant bus drivers who chew your head off for asking a perfectly civilised question. As one bus driver did to me today. All I asked was "Does this bus go to gorebridge?" To which I got the rather curt reply of "Does it say gorebridge on the front?"
"No" I replied, "But it says India on the tyres, so can you drop me off at gorebridge on the way?"

The big red bus.

I'm going out to Gorebridge today to visit my Mum.

I'll be sat on a bus for an hour and a half so I'll take along a book and read the whole way there.

Nothing much else is planned for today. I don't have to go to work as it's my day off. Hallelujah. Oh joy of joys. Praise be and all that guff.

I'll be posting more on here tonight so please remember to keep checking back. I'd hate for you to miss any wisdom I may inadvertantly shit out onto here.

Have a nice day.

Moto GP Estoril Results.

The second race of the Moto GP season took place in portugal today at the Estoril circuit.

After 28laps Brazilian rider Alex Barros took the win and capped off a stuning weekend when he topped the timing charts on all three days of the GP.

Valentino Rossi placed second after Sete Gibernau crashed out on lap 16 followed by Marco Mellandri in third.

Final placings for Moto GP race are as follows...

1. A. Barros
2. V. Rossi
3. M. Biaggi
4. M. Melandri
5. C. Checa
6. C. Edwards
7. N. Hayden
8. S. Nakano
9. L. Capirossi
10. R. Xaus
11. T. Bayliss
12. K. Roberts
13. R. Rolfo
14. A. Elias
15. J. Ellison

Non finishers were...

• S. Gibernau
• J. Hopkins
• F. Battaini

Championship standings after two rounds...

1. V. Rossi 45
2. A. Barros 38
3. M. Melandri 29
4. M. Biaggi 25
5. S. Gibernau 20
6. S. Nakano 19
7. C. Checa 17
8. C. Edwards 17
9. T. Bayliss 15
10. L. Capirossi 10
11. N. Hayden 9
12. M. Tamada 8
13. R. Xaus 6
14. T. Elias 6
15. A. Hofmann 5
16. K. Roberts 4
17. R. Rolfo 4
18. J. Hopkins 2
19. J. Ellison 1

The next round is to be held in China on the 1st of May.

Weather reporting award.

I don't often watch TV weather reports.

What I tend to do if I need to see what the weather is doing, at any given time, is look out the window. I find it far easier and less stressful than putting up with a permatanned gimp pointing at a map of the country.

There is something insane about having to watch someone explain to you... a little picture of a cloud means it may be cloudy, a little picture of a sun means it may be sunny and a little picture of a cloud with rain under it means, well, take a fucking guess...

But no more of this raving about how bad weather reports are on the TV because I have seen the future of weather reporting and would like to reveal it to you. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Jeremy Paxman weather report. True genius.

I have, For a while,

Toyed with the idea of making a porn video for the net.

Ewww. You may think, and you'd be perfectly normal to have this thought. Me, naked, is not a nice image to have in your head. You may get the urge to try to remove the mental image with a household drill but please resist this urge and the memory will fade. Given time, and a half decent psychiatrist...

I've expressed this urge to quite a few women in the last couple of months and strangely enough none have been all too keen on the idea. Perhaps I'm setting my standards too high. Fuck knows how. I can't lower them anymore than they already are. I'd be propositioning chicks in a nursing home.

Maybe I should join an adult meeting site along the lines of fuckbuddy and try looking for a bored housewife. A kinky older business woman would also be welcomed. A large breasted brunette in a nurse uniform would be even more welcomed. Anything, as long as it is human and not attached to an oxygen bottle and doesn't dribble and drool excessively.

Dr Who.

In his TARDIS he slips through time, encountering Alien races hellbent on the destruction of another Alien race.

I watched Dr Who on the bigscreen at work tonight. And, I feel I must go on record as saying that Christopher Ecclestone is shaping up to be a really rather good Dr Who. Portraying the Doctor was always going to be difficult but Ecclestone has slid into the character with no obvious problems.

Billy Piper is still a nippy bitch though. Even if she isn't a stereotypical female assistant for The Doctor. She still sucks. Like a cheap whore. You think me harsh? Watch an episode and then debate me my friend. I feel you will not only succumb to my argument, but will also beg for my forgiveness. Which I'll give. As long as you beg. Ho ho.

Can't Come Soon Enough.

My African trip is now less than a fortnight away.

Those two weeks will, no doubt, drag. Slowly.

In order to make time go quicker I have decided to spend the next two weeks having fun. That always makes time speed up. It's a universal standard. As Albert Einstein once said "Time is relative to the amount of fun you are having." Though, to be fair, he did say it in a drunken haze in a bar in Zurich so it may not be as easily sourced as one of his more publicized quotes.

T'aint nothing but a mindfuck.

Politics. Who needs it? Not me. I've evolved past needing a government to tell me how to behave. I make my own law. As you should.

What gives anyone the right to tell me how I should live?

Join my party. The Anything Goes Party. Drugs, Drink and fornication? Go right on ahead and do it. Abortion? Feel free. It's your body. Dangerous sports? Go for it. Tape it and make a fortune.

There will be fallout if you abuse any of these things, or fate intercedes and fucks you, but that's the game we play.

Moto GP Qualifying times Estoril.

Qualifying for the Portuguese GP has just ended.

Alex Barros took pole posititon with a time of 1'37.202 followed by, second in the championship, Sete Gibernau who put in a time of 1'37.329. Carlos Checa took third place on the grid with a time of 1'37.456. The fourth slot on the grid goes to championship leader and reigning champion Valentino Rossi with a time of 1'37.643. Marco Mellandri was also able to dip into the 1'37 bracket with an impressive 1'37.835.

Final Qualifying times were as follows...

1. Alex Barros 1'37.202
2. Sete Gibernau 1'37.329
3. Carlos Checa 1'37.456
4. Valentino Rossi 1'37.643
5. Marco Mellandri 1'37.835
6. Loris Cappirossi 1'38.000
7. Colin Edwards 1'38.003
8. Max Biaggi 1'38.009
9. Nicky Hayden 1'38.123
10. Shinya Nakano 1'38.283
11. John Hopkins 1'38.412
12. Ruben Xaus 1'38.949
13. Troy Bayliss 1'39.033
14. Kenny Roberts 1'39.628
15. Toni Elias 1'39.836
16. Roberto Rolfo 1'41.327
17. James Ellison 1'41.699
18. Shane Byrne 1'41.705
19. Franco Battaini 1'41.728
20. Makoto Tamada 1'41.930

Germanys Alex Hofmann will miss out on Sundays race following an accident at a pre race show in front of a crowd of onlookers at the Estoril seafront casino. The Kawasaki team made the statement that Hofmann would miss out the Portugal GP and hope that Hofmann is fit for the following race which is to be held in China.

There is...

A certain satisfaction
That all will be alright
There is a certain knowledge
Hidden in the stars at night.

Whoa, Fuck me. Where the hell did that come from? I have no idea. But it sounds good.

Welcome.

Even as I sit here typing more and more people are jumping onto The Good Ship Ross' Blog.

I have my first visitors from

• Singapore.
• Phillipines.

Last laugh.

I took a good look at the BBC's Last Laugh competition book last night and found a script that I have a good chance of being able to complete.

Closing dates for the script to be submitted is the 6th of May. Which gives me three weeks.

I'll give it a bash though. What else do I have to do but fill time?

"If you will it, it is no dream."

I fly out to Africa in exactly two weeks. Damn.

If someone had told me two months ago I would be flying out of Scotland to live in Africa for a month I would have told them that they were insane. I'd have asked if they had been drinking first though, You have to check these things.

To think that all this madness stemmed from a random e-mail, that I normally would have deleted without a second thought, is in itself rather insane. But, that's life.

Moto GP.

Today sees qualifying for the Portuguese GP at Estoril.

Live timing for the qualifying session can be found here.

Fridays free practice session lap times were as follows...

1. A. Barros Honda BRA 1'38.516
2. S. Gibernau Honda ESP 1'39.065
3. N. Hayden Honda USA 1'39.072
4. C. Edwards Yamaha USA 1'39.144
5. C. Checa Ducati ESP 1'39.200
6. V. Rossi Yamaha ITA 1'39.446
7. M. Biaggi Honda ITA 1'39.477
8. S. Nakano Kawasaki JPN 1'39.535
9. T. Elias Yamaha ESP 1'39.732
10. J. Hopkins Suzuki USA 1'39.769
11. K. Roberts Suzuki USA 1'39.804
12. L. Capirossi Ducati ITA 1'39.820
13. M. Tamada Honda JPN 1'39.997
14. M. Melandri Honda ITA 1'40.020
15. R. Xaus Yamaha ESP 1'40.163
16. T. Bayliss Honda AUS 1'40.639

International Bright Young Things... Update.

I am pleased to announce two new countries who have joined the, ever increasing, list of first time hits.

A hearty welcome to the countries of...

• Hungary.
• Bermuda.

Click on the link to learn more about Bermuda and Hungary.

Africa Plan.

I have just received an e-mail from my cousin Steven with the details of my African adventure.

Hey,

I've confirmed most of our holiday details, with the exception of what we might want to do at each of the places we're going to stay, but we can organize those when we get there.

There are a couple of things we need to do when you first arrive here, namely getting all our passports to the Mozambiquan embassy in Pretoria for visas (for which you'll need two photos), as well as organizing anti-malaria tablets for all of us (if you're allergic to anything, let me know - and no, Ross, rum is not an anti-malarial).

These are the dates we'll be doing things (maybe you want to let some family know where you'll be, or just plain make them fkin jealous):

1st May: you both arrive (please just confirm arrival flights and times again)
2nd May: public holiday - we can just chill out or recover from hangovers
3rd to 6th May: we got to the Pilanesberg Park, for some game viewing and caravaning (it's not far from Sun City either)
6th May: back to Joburg
7th May: we all go to see the musical show "Chicago" - Steph
booked it a while ago, so we have to go ;-)
8th May: chill out, or maybe go see some sights around Joburg, or recover from hangovers
9th May: I have some last minute work to do - someone has to pay the bills around here
9th May (pm): us three drive to the coast - Steph stays behind to work and has to finish some studying
10th May: we drop Tami off to go see her other grandparents (not far from my folks)
11th May: surfing, play pool, fishing, rum swilling, guys stuff
12th May (pm): pick up Tami from other grandparents
12th May (pm): Steph flies into Durban - we'll all go up and have some dinner in Durban on the beachfront
13th to 15th May: stay at the coast - do some more surfing, fishing, play pool, et al
16th May: we all drive back to Joburg
17th May: drive to Pretoria to pick up the passports from the Mozambiquan embassy
18th May (early): drive to Mozambique border post in time for it opening - stay over at Casa Lisa, 50km north of Maputo
19th May (early-ish): drive to Guinjata Bay approx 500km north of Maputo
19th to 26th May: stay at Guinjata - diving, snorkelling, fishing, vegetating, rum swilling, et al
26th May (am): drive back to Casa Lisa and stay overnight
27th May (early): drive back to Joburg
28th and 29th May: Joburg - see if there's anything else we can do (maybe a guided tour around Soweto or something)
30th and 31st May: Drink like demons.
31st May (pm): fly out

Apart from the above, there's not much organized..... ;-))))

Let me know if there's anything in particular, apart from the above, that you might want to do and we'll see what can be arranged.

Any questions?

See you in 17 days or so......

S

And that is to be my month off work. It's getting closer by the second. I feel like a kid let loose in a candy shop.

Moto GP.

Sunday sees the second race in the Moto GP season take place at the Estoril circuit in Portugal.

Current world championship standings are as follows.

1. Valentino Rossi Yamaha ITA 25pts
2. Sete Gibernau Honda ESP 20pts
3. Marco Melandri Honda ITA 16pts
4. Alex Barros Honda BRA 13pts
5. Shinya Nakano Kawasaki JPN 11pts
6. Troy Bayliss Honda AUS 10pts
7. Max Biaggi Honda ITA 9pts
8. Makato Tamada Honda JPN 8pts
9. Colin Edwards Yamaha USA 7pts
10. Carlos Checa Ducati ESP 6pts
11. Alex Hofman Kawasaki GER 5pts
12. Toni Elias Yamaha ESP 4pts
13. Loris Capirossi Ducati ITA 3pts
14. John Hopkins Suzuki USA 2pts
15. Roberto Rolfo Ducati ITA 1pts

Lost chances.

They haunt me every once in a while. As I'm sure they haunt you on occasion. We have all got our fair share of regrets. It's a universal constant. We all have small moments in our lives when we wish we had done things differently.

Perhaps you wish you'd had the courage to stand up to the kid who mercilessly bullied you at school for being different. Perhaps you wish you had let someone know how you felt about them when the chance came along but didn't. Perhaps your wishes are different. I know you have times in your life when you wished you had done things differently.

One of those moments presents itself to me as I sit here.

Last year I went to see Doug Stanhope perform at the Edinburgh Festival and while I sat on the steps of Hunter Square I saw a nice looking girl sitting drinking a bottle of wine with her friend.

I sat drinking from a plastic pint of Rum and Coke and watched this blonde haired beauty and her friend manage to pacify a roaring drunk with such elan and verve that I was immediately smitten. And what did I do? Did I walk over and introduce myself? Shit no. I sat and watched her from afar.

When she stood from the bench that her and her friend were bravely defending from a slightly off center pincer attack by two drunks she looked directly at me and smiled so radiantly that all time stood still. For me anyway. No sounds did I hear. No movement did I see. I was enraptured, captured and caught.

What I wish for is that moment again. So I can see that smile again and approach her to introduce myself. Even if she only said "Get the fuck away from me you freak."

Terrorist T's Take off.

It's a great feeling knowing that your words have been read by hundreds, if not thousands, of people around the world. What's even better than knowing this, is when your business idea is latched onto by the populace and you manage to make a mockery of the system and lots of money in the process.

Sadly, I can only lay claim to the first of these two things. I've been read by hundreds of people in my time on the net, But, my business idea is yet to make me rich enough to afford large bags of columbian weed and an MV Augusta. The lord only knows why...

Perhaps the world is not yet ready for my particular brand of humor. I can see why this may be the case. It's not everyone that gets the joke behind something like this...



This joke goes over the heads of most people. I call those people "Sheep."

The real question is do YOU get it?

Up shit creek.

I'm in trouble. Oh boy, am I in trouble. I've just been checking my hits on statcounter and what do I see? I see hits from Sweden.

More specifically, from my friend Sara.

In this post I wrote, I expressed feelings and emotions that she may not be entirely happy with. I really can't blame her if this is so. I just hope I don't lose this very dear friend because I fleetingly opened my heart and spilled my hopes and dreams onto this blog.

I know for certain I'll have to explain to her why I posted what I posted. Wish me luck. 'cos by God I'll need it.

He who laughs last...

Following the Comedy Writers Masterclass I attended last month in Glasgow I'll be spending the next couple of days reading through the scripts from the BBC's comedy writing competition "The Last Laugh."

If one of them particularly takes my fancy or tickles my funny bone I'll have a bash at completing it.

Spring has sprung.

With a BOING!

Dandelions are blooming, Snowdrops reveal themselves and birds are flitting from tree to tree showing off to prospective mates. All is right in the world. Apart from what we humans are doing to it.

The human race needs to hit the brakes. And quickly. We need to slow down our relentless abuse of our mother planet before anymore irrevocable damage is done. You do know that, Don't you?

We cannot continue on this destructive curve that we are riding on. The planet will not allow it for very much longer if we do. Trust me on that one folks, the planet will fight back. It has done it before and it will do it again. It'll shrug off the virus that infects it in such great numbers and will heal itself. Just like your body does when it gets swamped by minute invaders. The planet will treat us with as much regard as we give to the common cold virus. It will attempt to wipe us out with no respect for what we have created upon it's surface.

No amount of grand plans will prevent this. Buckle up kids. This ride will get worse.

But we can hold off for a while longer. If we only slow down. We need to stop shitting out kids like a Von Neumann machine run amok. We have to stop destroying the rain forests at the rate of an area the size of France per day. We have to work together as one.

In order to this our government system must be changed. No more should big business be allowed to do whatever it pleases, No longer should we continue the Arms Race, No longer should hundreds of thousands die every year from curable diseases because of medical companies greed.

To do this there is one thing we must do first... No longer should we be proud of our countries, we should be proud of our planet. Our Earth Mother. Our life giving benefactor. Our home.

But will those in power allow this to happen? Fuck no. They have too much invested in keeping the populace subjugated.

Welcome to the New World Order. Novus Ordo Seclorum.

Feel free to spread the word my friends.

But, beware that the invisible masters in the background of the powerful don't hear you. Or the sprung will spring and you will meet the same fate as Martin Luther King, Gandhi, JFK, Lenny Bruce, Malcolm X and Jesus.

The Countdown Continues...

I have only 17 days to go untill I fly halfway around the world to go to South Africa.

I know that it's actually not halfway around the world, it's only 5970 miles.

Only 5970 miles. I never thought I'd ever use that phrase in my lifetime, but, there you go. Life throws things at you that you do not expect.

Tesco mobile.

What a bag of shite.

Yesterday I praised Tesco's Clothing Dept for it's cheapness and it's value. Today I'm gonna throw scorn and vitriol onto their Mobile Phones.

I purchased a mobile from Tesco's a couple of months ago and have been reasonably happy with it since then. Until, at 4am this morning when I was awakened from a marvellous sleep by the sounds of my mobile switching itself on and off and bleeping like Tweeky from Buck Rodgers having a multiple orgasm. It's still doing it now. And, it's doing my head in.

On and off, On and off, On and off. Silence for about five minutes, On and off, On and off, On and off. Silence for four minutes, On and off, On and off. Silence for a minute, On and off, On and off, On and off....

You can see why this would be annoying. I'm at my wits end. I'm close to throwing it from the window of my flat into the middle of the road where a car or two can run it over, just like I did with my TV when George W Warmonger invaded Iraq. I'm that annoyed at it.

If it doesn't pack it in soon I will be taking a little trip to my local Tesco's and will be attempting to get an exchange on it, or I'll be trying to insert it into the colon of the store manager.

Work, Rest and play.

My mum got home from Stirling Hospital yesterday. She's tucked up in bed. Or at least I think she is. I haven't called to see how she is yet. Maybe I should do so now. But I've got to go to work in 10mins so I'll phone her later.

I have spent this morning shopping for new clothes for my holiday and have purchased 2 pairs jeans, 3 pairs of funky Bermuda shorts, 9 vests, 9 T-shirts, 1 pair of running shoes, 1 short sleeved shirt and 1 long sleeved shirt with a funky Moroccan look to it.

All told it came to £89. Which may seem like a lot of cash until you add up the amount of things I got for that amount. Gotta love Tesco's Clothing Dept.

Now I've got to go to work. Bummer. But, no matter, I only have 18 days left before my month off. I can handle that.

Happy now Sandra?

I was asked by a friend to change my profile picture so in order to keep her from nagging me as though I were her bitch I have now got this...



...as my profile picture.

Fuck knows why she thought that this one...



...was unsuitable. Maybe it's the fact it makes me look retarded. Which I'm not. Honestly. It's just a really bad picture.

Cold beer and Pizza...

What more could a man ask for?

Strong drugs? Possibly. But, not tonight my friends. This is not a night for strong drugs. This is a night for cold carlsberg, cigarettes and communication...

I have to say I do have an almighty urge to get my pipe out and take a long hit of Salvia Divinorum, which I have in a small plastic tube next to my PC, but this drug totally distorts time and space and I'd only end up rambling incoherent shit that would make sense to only me. That's not much fun for you is it?

Besides, I have Pink Floyd's The Wall playing on my media player and this album should not be used in conjunction with any drug stronger than Vitamin C. The latest scientific studies show that mixing Pink Floyd and strong drugs has been known to cause acute paranoia, depression and strange thoughts of how to travel through time. Or it does for me anyhow.

Maybe I should dig out my copy of Nick Drake's Five Leaves Left and take a trip with British musics most unrecognized genius. Or how about I rake around on my bookshelf and read aloud "Down by the salley gardens" by W B Yeats as I am carried off to the Earth-through-the-third-eye that Salvia opens in the mind.

But for what purpose? I have attained all the knowledge that Salvia can bestow when I, stupidly, took too much and visited the garden of wisdom. Doing so again would be an exercise in futility. It may lead down paths only slightly traveled in my mind. Enlightenment through chemical enhancement should be taken at a reasonable pace. Never rush in where the footholds are uncertain.

Down by the Salley Gardens. W. B. Yeats.

Down by the salley gardens
My love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens
With little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy,
As the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish,
With her would not agree.

In a field by the river
My love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder
She laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy,
As the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish,
And now am full of tears.

If in doubt always remember; Walk with care through the garden, lest you annoy the Gardener.

Delightful dream.

I've just woke up from one of the most intense lucid dreams I have ever had.

All too soon I was awakened by the sound of my telephone ringing and my answering machine kicking into operation.

I wish I could remember the details of my dream but I don't think you'd want to read about it anyway so maybe that's not such a bad thing. Selah.

I am off work today and plan on spending it doing as little as is humanly possible. I'll read some more of One flew over the cuckoo's nest, Write a little and generally fuck around for the rest of the day. No doubt I'll go along to my mates house and spend too much time chatting about the insanity of the world we live in. Just the average day off.

I'll also be re-watching the Moto GP race today as when I watched it yesterday I was distracted somewhat and didn't get to watch the precision slides and mastery of machine that the riders have. How they do what they do is alien to me but by thunder it's great to watch.

And that is to be my day,

Broken Leg Update,

My Mum should be returning to Edinburgh today after being stuck in Stirling for the last few days with a broken leg.

Moto GP results.

The first Moto GP race of the season is now over having just been run in Jerez in Spain.

Valentino Rossi and Sete Gibernau fought long and hard over 27 laps at insane speeds and lean angles. Hey, Formula One, Were you watching? This is racing.

When the starting-lights go out and the clutch is opened all hell breaks loose. Gibernau makes an early move into the lead, followed closely by Nicky Hayden and Valentino Rossi, as the rest of the pack snaps and snarls at their heels like junkies who get high on the scent of exhaust. And that is exactly how to describe these men. These Racers. Speed Freaks, everyone of them.

For the next few laps Gibernau, Rossi and Hayden pull out a few bike lengths on the rest of the pack and bob and weave trying to get the slightest advantage diving in on the brakes or exiting a corner. Every extra millisecond counts, Every Mph is needed.

On lap 19 Nicky Hayden loses his concentration while trying to catch Rossi and loses the front end and slides out of a podium position and into the gravel trap.

Back at the front Rossi and Gibernau play cat and mouse with each other trying to find out where the other is weaker or stronger on the track. On lap 24 Rossi pounces and takes the lead in a dramatic move that makes the crowd at the circuit yell, whistle, scream, blow off airhorns and rev engines that they have brought with them to add to the cacophony of noise in this, their church.

On the final lap the lead changes several times as Rossi and Gibernau continue their ballistic ballet. Rossi dives under Gibernau; Only for Gibernau to repay the favour as the bike beneath him squirrels and slides, like a Giant Elk on iceskates, on the gas and out of the next corner.

Rossi switches track position to allow an earlier apex on the penultimate corner to allow a faster line into the last turn onto the start finish straight. Gibernau's back wheel skips on the tarmac with the braking force of last gasp grabbing of the lever, Rossi dives up the inside and the crowd holds its breath as he and Gibernau's bikes collide. Rossi keeps the line as Gibernau is forced wide into the gravel trap. He rejoins the track and finishes 8.631 seconds behind the triumphant Rossi. Marco Mellandri finishes third, 10 seconds behind Gibernau.

Results for Moto Gp round 1 Jerez.

1. Valentino Rossi.
2. Sete Gibernau.
3. Marco Mellandri.
4. Alex Barros.
5. Shinya Nakano.
6. Troy Bayliss.
7. Max Biaggi.
8. Makoto Tamada.
9. Colin Edwards.
10. Carlos Checa.
11. Alex Hoffman.
12. Toni Elias.
13. Loris Capirossi.
14. John Hopkins.
15. Roberto Rolfo.
16. James Ellison.
17. Franco Battaini.
18. Ruben Xaus.

Non finishers...

• Nicky Hayden.
• Kenny Roberts (Jnr)
• Shane Byrne.

Moto Gp Live Timing.

Click Here for live timing from Moto GP.

Moto GP.

Today is the day that the Moto Gp season starts.

The curcuit of Jerez hosts todays race. Pole position went to Valentino Rossi with a time of 1'39.419.

Final qualifying times for the top ten were...

1. V. Rossi Yamaha ITA 1'39.419
2. S. Gibernau Honda ESP 1'39.915
3. M. Melandri Honda ITA 1'40.179
4. N. Hayden Honda USA 1'40.465
5. S. Nakano Kawasaki JPN 1'40.542
6. L. Capirossi Ducati ITA 1'40.648
7. M. Tamada Honda JPN 1'40.707
8. A. Barros Honda BRA 1'40.720
9. T. Bayliss Honda AUS 1'40.774
10. A. Hofman Kawasaki GER 1'40.812

Another day closer...

To Africa.

20 days 'till I step on board the big birdie and fly off into the blue sky. It can't come quick enough. I need to get the fuck out of Edinburgh before I snap, buy a high powered rifle, climb the Scott Monument and begin picking people off at random.

It's not that I don't love Edinburgh, I do, It's that for the last 33 years this place is the only place I have known. I need a change of scenery. I need wide open spaces and glorious starlit nights. I need peace to think, to ponder, to wonder, to dream...

International Bright Young Things,

I have 3 new countrys to add to my ever increasing list of first time hits.

A very warm welcome to the countries of

• Switzerland.
• Peru.
• Vietnam.

Read about these countries by clicking on the link.

Shooting Stars and satellites.

I've just returned from Stirling having went to see my Mum in hospital after she took a fall down a slope and broker her leg. She's got a cast on her leg and is in good spirits.

She had no idea I was coming to visit, which gave her a nice surprise, and when she saw me standing at the door to her ward she did a double-take and then broke into tears.

Afterwards I went with my Dad to the village of Callender, where the house my Mum had rented for her holiday was, and spent the rest of the evening joking with my Brother in law, playing with my nieces and nephews, drinking bottles of lager and winding my Sister and my Dad up. As I always do when the family get together. The only things missing were my Brother, my Sister in law, my youngest nephew Matthew and my Mum.

At about 1:30am I went into the garden at the back of the house, lit a joint and stared upwards into the starry night. There was very little cloud cover, and virtually no light pollution, so I could see far more stars than I get to see in Edinburgh. I watched the sky, saw a Shooting Star and thanked the stars for another day.

Journey man.

I'm off to Stirling tomorow to visit my Mum.

She has no idea that I'm coming to see her so it should be a nice surprise for her. I'm working in eight hours and I'm leaving for Stirling as soon as I finish so I'll be in Stirling at about 7pm. I'll be staying overnight at Callender and have work at 4pm on Saturday.

I have no idea if I'll have access to a PC so my blog may go lacking in a post or two for the next couple of days. I'm sure you can live without any postings for a couple of days. The real question is... Can I?

Help Wanted...

Having read lots of reviews on websites which make claim that Blogging is the new rock 'n roll I find myself asking why it is that I'm getting very low hit counts on here.

Is it the content? Perhaps. Is it that my writing style is lacking in, well, writing style? Maybe. Is it because no-one really gives two fucks what I sit here and type out? Probably.

What I need is some kind of tutorial on how to get more traffic onto my site. I've listed my blog on several directories and have had some hits from these directories but I'm still only getting an average of only 30 hits per day. Most of which are from my own page loads. Sad aint it?

When I'm looking at other blogs what do I see? lots of comments and lots of people interacting with one another. Then I look at my blog and see very few comments and even less people interacting. It would make the average person give up. But, I'm not the average person. So I shall keep fighting the brave fight and maybe one day the rest of the human race will catch up.

Until that day comes I'll keep posting whatever takes my fancy.

Addictions.

Hello, My name is Ross and I'm an addict.

What's your name? What's your addiction? I know you have one. We all do. It's one of the universal truths. Some people are addicted to Coffee, some are addicted to harder drugs. Some are addicted to Safety and some are addicted to Danger. But addicted we all are.

Amongst my addictions in life I've used and abused...

• Alcohol. Absinthe to Zombie & all stops in between.
• Cannabis.
• LSD.
• Magic Mushrooms.
• Salvia Divinorum.
• Speed.
• Extacy.
• Amyl Nitrate.
• Nitrous Oxide.
• Fast Cars.
• Motorcycles.
• Adrenaline.

Which is not really that bad if you ask me. I'm a part timer when it comes to true abuse these days. Unless you count masturbation as an addiction. If you do, I'm really in need of rehabilitation. Care to give a fellow human a helping hand? Any large breasted and long haired beauties can just send an E-mail to my usual address. Moroccan sailors need not apply.

I think it's about time I got addicted to sex. Mainly because I'm not getting any younger but also because my knees are apt to popping out once in a while due to a motorcycle crash and if I leave it much longer I may not be able to jump from the wardrobe as well as a slightly younger man.

Besides, if I was to get an addiction to sex I could add Viagra to that list.

Die Another Day.

I have funeral to go to today.

It's the funeral of Gus Young. He's the father of my friend Gary, Father In Law to Carol Anne, Grandfather to Fraser and Ross and Partner to Anne.

I didn't know Gus all that well but he was always nice enough to me. And I did my level best to be nice to him. He certainly had a wicked sense of humour and anyone who has that has my respect.

I like to think that whatever happens to you after you die you get another chance to live your life. In my mind I know Gus' spirit is lying in a new body somewhere in time, probably wondering "What the fuck happened there?"

Have a double scotch on me Gus. See you another time.

One day closer...

To Africa.

My friends, Oswald and Steff, were trying their level best yesterday to scare the shit out of me with horror stories of shark attacks, malarial infections, lion attaks, snake bites and all other manner of things to scare me. At one point I fully expected to be informed of minature ape people who sneak into homesteads and steal your breath as you sleep. Luckily it didn't go that far.

Whatever happens in Africa I'm pretty sure there is very little chance of minature apes stealing my breath. But you never know what strong Durban weed will do to your perception. And, after all isn't that what life is? A perception. A view from a singularity. Perhaps. Or maybe not. Damned if know.

And now I'm off to bed. I'm too stoned to stare at this screen for much longer. So it goes. So I go.

Read on my boy, Read on.

I've been reading Hunter S Thompson: Kingdom Of Fear for the last couple of days.

So far it has been a very strange and savage look into the life of Hunter through his own eyes. At times it is a frighteningly funny fiasco which blasts along at the speed of light and at other times it is a sad and savage tale of woe.

These are the reasons I love to read the Good Dr's words. You may not know the destination or the means of travel, but you know you're going to arrive with bleeding fingertips and sharp pains in your sides. Which, I imagine, is how Hunter would have wanted it. I'm sure there were occasions when he himself suffered both of these things. And worse.

The next book I'll be reading is "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" by Ken Kesey. Which I have read before at least twice but is always a great read. After that I'm stuck for choice. I have still to read "Bill Hicks; Agent of Evolution" by Kevin Booth & Michael Bertin and also "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac.

I'll be taking "On the Road" to Africa with me, as I have a powerful lust to read Kerouac while sitting drinking rum on the beach. I read "On the Road" once before when I was about 17 and remember it being a wonderful piece of prose that lit up places within my spirit that had never seen the light before. Africa, I'm sure, will only add to the enjoyment of the book.

I've also got four other books to read in the coming weeks that a friend gave me. They are...

• Killing The Shadows. Val McDermid
• Good News Bad News. David Wolstencroft.
• Camberwell Beauty. Jenny Eclair.
• Somebody Someday. Robbie Williams.

I'm not expecting anything remarkable from these books but I may be surprised. Not by the Robbie Williams one anyway, I fully expect that to be nothing more than page after page after page of ego rubbing autobiographical bullshit.

The Jenny Eclair one doesn't look like a whole barrel of laughs either. When I read the first couple of chapters I felt very much like hunting her down and putting the author out her misery with a swift kick to the head... Ho ho. I'm kidding. I wouldn't do that. I'd run her over while she went for her morning newspaper... Robbie Williams is another thing. I'd feed him into a tree shredder at a very slow pace. Along with every recording he has ever made.

Broken leg update.

Following the news that my Mum has taken a fall and broken her ancle my Dad just called to tell me she has actually broken her leg in four places. How painful is that? I've no idea. But it sure sounds nasty.

Because of the fall taking place while she was away from home she's stuck up in Stirling until at least friday. My Dad is up there with her and I'm to be kept updated on the situation. I'll let you know if I hear anything.

Today has been spent lazing around and smoking a nice piece of soft black hashish and watching DVD's. I've watched...

• The Mummy Returns.
  
• The Matrix Reloaded.
• Grosse Pointe Blanke.
• Alice In Wonderland.
  

Apart from that I've done fuck all worth writing about.

Operation Broken Leg.

My Sister just called to let me know that my Mum is going to have an operation to put a screw and a plate into her leg tonght. Details to follow.

♫ Four seasons in one day ♫

There has, in the past hour, been damn near every kind of weather possible. The skies have blackened and rain has fallen, the Sun has burst through the clouds and split the light into rainbows and the wind has howled like a wolf in the night.

Just your average kind of weather for this time of the year. Some people say that anything other than sunshine and blue skies is bad weather, personally I say it's just weather. There is no such thing as bad weather, only improper clothing. Wear what is right for the conditions and you'll be fine and dandy. Or stay indoors. It's your decision.

No matter what the weather is doing Here and Now I'm practically guaranteed good weather when I go to Africa so I can live with it. I've lived with the shitty Scottish weather for 33 years so far, so what difference will another couple of weeks make? None whatsoever.

The next couple of weeks are going to be very tight with regards to my spending habits. I have a holiday to finance, an electric bill to pay, a flight ticket to level with my Dad and living expenses to deal with. It's going to be very tight but I'll get by. If necessary I'm sure I can call upon the goodness of others for a little assistance.

Falls off got hurt, Falls of Dochart.

I just got a phone call from my Dad informing me that my Mum is in Stirling Hospital with a broken ankle. She's been on away this week on a holiday with her sister & my cousin.

Apparently she slipped going down a slope.

This morning a postcard arrived for me from her. Ironically it's from a place up north called Falls Of Dochart.

Anyone surprised?

Slim Down call for Californians.

Katie Bairdie hid a cat,

And hid it well apparently.

Following up on the Katie Bairdie saga;

I've not heard anything from "Katie" for a couple of weeks now. I still do not know if "Katie" was really, a random stranger from the net who appreciated my writing and wanted to let me know, or was someone I know from my work. I'll never know. So it goes. That's how life is sometimes. Mysteries reside in all our lives.

A mystery presents itself to me as I sit here now. There is a car parked across the street from my house. "Nothing unusual about that" you may think. But; This car has sat there for three nights in a row with the lights on and the engine running from the hours of 12midnight till at least 3:30am. Why it sits there I do not know. Whoooooo, Mystery, Drama and suspense.

Quid novi ex Africa?

Oh joyous days.

Following the slight hiccup in my plan to go to Africa for the month of May I have now managed to secure a seat on a plane.

In roughly 24 days & 17 hours I'll be boarding a Boeing 747 and heading off into the sunset to experience the country that is the birthplace of the Human race. How cool is that? A whole month of Rum and Sun. I bet you're really jealous huh? Go on, admit it. You'd love to be in my shoes.

Sorry if it seems like I am gloating, Its just because I am. Ho Ho.

My younger Cousin Tamlyn whom I should have been flying out with, Had the ticket she had going spare been transferable, will be flying the same day about an hour or so earlier.

My older Cousin Steven is arranging an itinerary for our visit. Ideas about where we will be going have been bandied about but as such nothing is set in stone so I'll not bore you with that just now. I'll bore you about that later. Now is the time for gloating shamelessly.

This trip is, I'm sure, going to be a life changing journey where my eyes and mind are opened to thoughts, visions and perceptions unknown before. Always a good thing in my opinion.

And guess what? You can also join in on this journey by keeping reading this blog. Trust me on that. I may not be Hemmingway when it comes to prose but I'll try my best to make whatever I write enjoyable and vivid.

I thought I'd better say that just so you don't feel as though I'm still gloating...

At the time I'm sure they didn't notice...

Ho ho.

There are times when Advertising agencies hit upon a logo that projects a product into our minds with such unerring accuracy that we can all recognize it immediately no matter where we are.

This was not one of those times...



I wonder if it's sponsored by Michael Jackson. Just a thought...

Slight hiccup.

There has been a slight hiccup regarding my African trip.

The ticket for the flight that my cousin Tamlyn had is not transferable into my name. This means that I need to find a flight to Africa for as cheap a price as possible. So this morning I spent a few hours searching for a ticket to Johannesburg from Edinburgh.

I managed to find a ticket on Expedia for £449.00 and I think this is probably my best bet.

tomorrow morning I will be calling my Dad to see if I can scrounge the money for the flight from him and pay it back when I return. Wish me luck. It's hard enough trying to get a loan of a fiver from him. It's not his fault. He's Scottish and being tight with money is written into his genes.

A very warm welcome...

To the first person to visit my site from the country of Benin in West Africa.

Read about the Country of Benin here.

Another first time country hit on my blog goes to the country of Panama.

Read about Panama here.

It's nice to have you visit my home in cyberspace.

True Visionary.

I used to be the only person on blogger that had "Chemical Enhancement" as one of their interests. No more is this true.

Click here to see The Red Bull Diaries

S, h, o, p, p, i, n, g.

I hate it. With a passion. At times it must be done though. Today was one of those times.

Sara flew home to Sweden yesterday and I got a decent nights sleep last night back in the womb that is my bed. At just after 1am I staggered into my bedroom, slipped off my T-shirt and jeans and threw back the covers on my bed to find a piece of A4 paper slipped between the sheets.

I expected it to be a note from Sara thanking me for letting her stay at my place while she was over on holiday and I was correct in this assumption. What I did not expect was to find £40 tucked inside it. What the fuck? I thought, What the hell is this?

I read the note...

Hi Ross,
Just wanna say bye and thanks for letting me stay at your house.
The money will be for petrol and stuff.
Dont go daft, see it as holiday money seeing as you took a holiday and didn't get paid.
I say you should probably stay at the club, I can't pay you as much as they can!

Well, Goodbye and I'll see you next time.

Sara.

I quickly sent off a text message to her mobile saying that I wasn't looking for money from her and that it was my pleasure having her stay for the week.

So, this morning I went into town to spend this unexpected windfall. As I sat on the bus into town I considered spending it on DVD's but after wandering through the DVD section of both HMV and Virgin and seeing nothing that took my fancy I sauntered into Waterstones to see if there were any books that caught my eye. None did.

Having not seen anything in Waterstones that caught my eye I wandered back into HMV and tried to find something that lit my fire. It was then that I saw it. "Bill Hicks. Agent of Evolution" by Kevin Booth. £14.99. That's the fucker for me. I thought.

I wandered around the book section of HMV and picked up not only "Agent of Evolution" but also...

• "The Trials Of Lenny Bruce" Ronald K.L Collins & David M. Skover. £4.99.
• "Kingdom Of Fear" Hunter S Thompson. $5.99.
• "On The Road" Jack Kerouac. £2.99.
• "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" Ken Kesey. £2.99.

These will be read and assimilated into my knowledge base in the coming days.

As I walk along the path of righteousness I wonder...

Just how many people I have just pissed off with my last posting.

I'm guessing that it's gonna be in the millions. But, on the plus side, I'll have just as many people who support me.

People will either love it or hate it. Some, however, couldn't give a fuck. They are my kind of people.

Pope Pops off.

Roman Catholics around the world are united in grief tonight as it was announced that the Pope has finally popped his clogs and has joined the choir invisible. Awww, Diddums.

I appreciate that this man was a symbol of religion to many millions of sheep, I mean people, around the world but am I the only person that is still sane enough to realize that the Catholic Church is one of the most hypocritical establishments in the world today? Am I? Please tell me I'm not. I'm too lazy to have to be the one that saves the world. I've got shit to do for fucks sake. Can't you work it out amongst yourselves?

Think for a minute about how much money the Vatican has accumulated in banking deals and property and then ask yourself if the Church is really interested in ending the needless suffering of millions of people around the world. The only conclusion you will come to is that the people in charge of the Church couldn't give a flying fuck about saving anyone.

(By the way, the Pope is NOT in charge, he's just a frontman for a con-job. The real powermongers pull the strings in darkened rooms. Priests and Bishops fuck choir boys and Nuns Jill off to pictures of Mother Theresa being DP'd and spit roasted by a well hung Black Stallion and a Golden Retriever.)

The people in charge of the Church are not Gods messengers upon the earth. They are vicious cruel swines who rape and molest the poor unfortunates of the world in more ways than one. I spit on them and their false "Religion". Fuck them and all they stand for.

As a parting shot in this post I really hope that there is such a thing as Hell because the Pope is guaranteed to be there right this very moment standing in line with Hitler and Mother Theresa just waiting to have a fifteen inch spike forcibly inserted into their arses. Who says Satan is a bad guy? He just doesn't have the right PR man on his side.

Joy to the world, the Pope is dead.

Siggi Go Bye Bye.

My friend Sara leaves to go back to Sweden in seven hours time. I'm going to miss her smiling face and infectious laughter. So it goes.

Sara is currently sleeping and I'm sitting at my PC watching "The Mummy Returns" on DVD. So it goes.

My Dad is picking us up at 6am to drive us out to Glasgow Prestwick so I guess I better go get some sleep. So it goes.

It's a shame that Sara has to leave so soon but her college begins on Monday morning. So she goes.

Oh joy of joys.

Oh happy day! There is a god.

Pant and Dick, those irritating little fuckwits from ITV's Saturday night take-away, are going to be affected by strike action that is being called for by the broadcasting unions Amicus and BECTU.

Coronation Street fans will be dismayed to find out that the wedding of droopy Deirdre and comatose Ken may also be disrupted. Personally I'm overjoyed at this news. Perhaps families all over the UK will take the time freed up by this event to talk to one and other.

But, I highly doubt it. Even if they were to talk to each other the probability is that they will talk about other Soap Opera's or some other program that they have watched together while scoffing down deep fried food and scratching their arses. Not to worry though, one day the time will come when the hearts of these human cattle will beat no more.

I know that may sound cruel and viscous of me to say that but believe me it would be a good thing. These are people who deserve a massive coronary. Or at least an aneurysm.

If only the strike was to effect the ITV News perhaps the cattle of the country would wake up to the fact that they spend the majority of their lives staring into the void of despair.

Read more on this story here.

Doctor What the fuck are you talking about?

Casanova actor seduces the Doctor Who casting agent - Britain - Times Online

Ho ho, It would seem that the new Dr Who, Christopher Ecclestone, doesn't want to be typecast. I personally can't see the logic behind this claim. How many parts are there that involve portraying a several hundred year old Timelord?

Google Gulp

Google Gulp

It's the first of April today so I'm not about to attempt to purchase this amazing sounding drink. I wonder how many idiots are frantically trying to order some Google Gulp! with Auto-Drink™

Sheer fucking genius.

Alis volat propiis.

There are times in each of our lives when a friend or a family member sees through the outer shell that we cover our hearts with.

I have just experienced one of those times. And it's tearing me apart. My friend Jenny, who works beside me at the club, posted this on her new blog.

It seems to me that Jenny saw through the mask I put up in front of my heart. Even though I think I have the ability to disguise what I feel, like a magician can use sleight of hand to mislead your eyes so the see not what is but what isn't, Jenny saw through this. As though I am made of glass.

Perhaps I am.

An empty vessel.

Sometimes.

I wonder.

I wonder if there is someone out there for me. Some woman who will love me as though I were the air that she breathes, the water she drinks and the stars that shine in the skies.

Sara and I have been at a friends house all night. She's had a few glasses of wine and has that all too familiar feeling of the world in motion.
"Ross, Do you have a bucket?" I hear her say from the next room, "The room is spinning and I feel sick."
I put my cigarette out and shuffle to the bedroom where Sara lies in my bed.
"What sweetheart?" I ask. I look towards her in the half light that is spilling from the hall to see her face shining like an angels.
"I don't feel good. I'm going to throw up."
"Who's fault is that?" I ask.
"Don't be nasty. I'm not well. Sing to me" She says.
"I can't sing" I reply.
"Sing "A spoonful of sugar" to me." She asks, and then begins to sing the song in Swedish.
"I don't know the words in Swedish" I state.
"Marcus used to tell me really boring stories to get me to sleep" She says.
"I don't know any boring stories. I could read you something if you want."
"OK."
My jeans make a shwooshing noise as I walk to the living room and grab my copy of The Essential Spike Milligan. The first book that comes to hand.
I shuffle back to the bedroom and lie on top of the duvet as Sara lies beneath the covers. I open the book at a random page and begin to read.

I read Spike's words to Sara and for the first time in my life know what it feels like to be alone in the world. Here I am reading to a woman who has always made me feel at ease with myself and yet I have never let her know what I think of her. I want to tell her I care about her more than she knows and that I will always be there if she needs me. But, I don't. I read Spikes words explaining how alone he feels in a ward full of people who do not know one another and my heart breaks when I realize how much love I have in my heart for Sara.

I look towards her and see that she has fallen asleep.

I keep reading. This moment, to me, is perfection. A beautiful woman sleeps next to me, my mind is still and uncluttered, my breath mixes with hers and I feel the warmth of her body next to mine.

Only a thin layer seperates us. I stop reading and I look at the face of this angel who sleeps in my bed.

"Nice dreams darling." I say and begin the longest walk of my life. Away from Sara.