What a Cnut.

I've just arrived back from my small jaunt to Dublin. I'm very tired, as I have only slept about three hours per night over the last five days, and will begin to write the story of my adventure tomorrow so you can all read about it. Until then I'm off to my bed.

Or something like that. ....ed if I know. I'm annoyed now, I'm in dublin airport and this ....king (Swine!) computer won't allow me to write the word "...." There it goes again. Bastard... Aha! I found a word it allows. As I'm only killing time until the flight arrives I'm going to see what words are acceptable and what ones aren't. .... (not allowed.) [clue; begins witha "C" and sounds like "Punt." Shit. (allowed) Tits. (allowed. Ass. (allowed.) Vagina. (allowed.) Twat. (allowed.) Bush. (allowed.) I could go through a lot more filthy words but I think I'd find that it's just the Big Two of .... and .... this really annoys me. How dare the powers that be decide what words I can and cannot use when posting on my website. I've half a mind to.... (No, forget that, I'm not about to go making remarks that could be taken out of context as I'm in an airport my words could be misunderstood and then I really would be .......

I'm in an internet cafe at the moment checking my e-mails and after this I'm about to go for a wander in Dublin. What I'm going to do and where I'm going to go are unknown at this time, but I have a guidebook and a good sense of direction so I'll be fine.

What this is about. The news as seen by a PCP addict But, fuck me, it's funny.

Show this to your children .

For all of you out there with a sense of humour .

As I mentioned earlier on this week I shall be in Dublin for the next few days. I have no idea if I will have access to the internet so this blog may go a bit quiet on the posting side for a while. Please don't panic. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I return. Until then... Stay Happy.

Makes Ross a Dull boy. Too Much rum & too little sleep... Makes Ross a Dull boy. Too Much rum & too little sleep... Makes Ross a Dull boy... I've always said if you are going to do something then you should do it properly. There is no point what-so-ever in going at something half-cocked and wondering at a later point what may have happened if you had ridden the fucker right out to the edge. At times this can be a wonderful thing to do. Take falling in love for example, if you throw yourself into it with all your conviction and all your heart you will discover that the more you put into it, the more you get out of it. Sadly this cannot be said for alcohol. The more alcohol you put into yourself, the more there is to puke up later after you have eaten a 16" pizza because you thought you were in need of food to soak up the booze. Which, coincidentally, was exactly what I did last night after getting back from getting utterly shitfaced. I remember being so drunk I tried to...

My friend Yvoone celebrated her 18th birthday tonight and I would like to wish her all the best. Happy Birthday Yvoone.

Before tonight I never knew the satisfaction of rising above the petty shite that people throw at you once in a while. Now, however, I know.

I've just arrived back from the place I used to work before I was so unceremoniously sacked and I'm so drunk that this post may not make much sense, even after spellchecking. But I'm sure you'll forgive me given that I have had at least ten double rum and cokes. My Dad is crashed out on the sofa, even though there is a fold out bed less than a foot from him, and is snoring loudly. Trust me it's not a pretty sight. He discarded his shirt with an elan that made me proud to say he's my Dad. I must say that I am immensely proud of the members of the place I used to work at after receiving a lot of support for the stand I took. Many people have sympathized with me with regard to my situation. I would especially like to thank Melanie P, Gary P, Carol-Anne N, Gary N, Alex, Brian, Heather, Stan, Rena, Yvoone, Susan, Eric T, Rab, Mandy and all of the barstaff. All of which supported me in the stand I took. As one member, who will remain nameless, said, "You may have...

I'm off to a party of sorts tonight. My friend Yvoone is celebrating her 18th birthday at Bainf... Can I name the place now that I don't work there?... That place I used to work at before they sacked me for having a sense of humour and/or an opinion that I chose to write about in order to make myself laugh. Going there may not be the wisest idea ever, as it may cause certain people to get all humpty, but fuck 'em... My friend is having a celebration and I'm going come hell or high water. Whether or not I will be allowed to attend is another thing. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.

I've had a lot of time to give consideration to what I should do next in my life after getting sacked from that place that I used to work at... Ahem, once again, no names, no pack drill... I have been toying with the idea of doing some kind of writing to make some extra cash and have come to the conclusion that if I want to write properly I really should find a course where I can learn how to do it properly. So while I'm in Dublin next week I'll be absorbing as much culture as possible with a mind to submitting some articles to tourist magazines and suchlike. This will serve a double purpose... I'll get some practice at writing for the mass market. I'll develop a new style of writing. On a similar note... My Brother, Stuart , very kindly bought me a copy of Writing Comedy by John Byrne and I'll be taking this to Dublin with me to pass whatever time I have to spare.

Should I sell out and join the ranks of Satans' Spawn who advertise products just because I am offered money to do so? I received an e-mail today from a company that is willing to pay me to advertise on this blog. I'm not sure if it's a scam or not so I didn't take it too seriously and whipped off an e-mail in reply. Here's the e-mail I received... Dear Webmaster I've tried to contact you about this before but got no response - do you offer any advertising on your CNUT website, and if so, how much do you charge? I have a client who would be willing to pay an annual charge (£40-50 a year depending on position) for a text link from your site. Please do let me know if you're interested, your site would be very suitable. Apologies if you're not interested. Yours Henry Elliss. And here's the one I sent in reply... Hello Henry, My costs for advertising are as follows. Text link - £250 per annum. Picture link - £500 per annum. Full page ad with review by me...

On Monday I'm flying out to Dublin to see my cousin Angie. I'll be taking a note book and my camera to document my small trip and will blog on it all when I return. I may also use some of my notes to write some articles on Dublin and send them to travel magazines in the hope of getting them published.

The BBC has just announced that Richard Hammond is now out of intensive care and has been moved to a high dependency ward. Doctors at the Leeds General Infirmary have stated the Top Gear star is "Making satisfactory progress."

I'm still unemployed but I'm not allowing this to dampen my spirits, oh no, the hunt will continue and I shall be victorious. I applied for three jobs today. One of them is at the post office. If I am successful I'll be asking management if I can give posties classes in how to read numbers .

I woke up this morning to find one of those little slips that postmen put through your door if you have been sent a parcel. "Cool." I thought, "Someone has sent me a parcel. I wonder what it could be." It crossed my mind that maybe it was the kilo of Columbian Cocaine I ordered from www.sendmesomeskag.com so I bent over and picked it up. It turned out to be that the postman had posted next doors mail through my door. How fucked up is that? Fair enough my door doesn't have a nameplate on it but it does have a large number 6 above it and next door has a large number 5 above it.

That when a fighter dies there should be a suitable ceremony to commemorate the passing... ******************************************** This morning I awoke with a bruise on my chest and a large bump on the back of my head due to my fight to the death with my arachnid adversary early yesterday morning. I dragged myself out of my bed, walked to the kitchen, opened the deepfreeze and grabbed a bag of frozen chicken nuggets to put on my head in an attempt to reduce any swelling. I walked through to the livingroom and surveyed the scene before me. My copy of Mein Kampf lay on the floor where it had trapped my nemesis' leg, marbles were strewn across the floor, the deodorant can lay forlorn under the table where it had skidded to a halt, the ironing board lay next to my skateboard like postmodern art, the iron itself lay upside down next to a stain caused by the water from it having poured out and items of detritus that had cascaded out of my flowerpot lay next to the bookshelf. I knew ...

************************************************* If you ask any soldier how they do what they do they will, more often than not, tell you that their training kicks in and they automatically know what to do. In a split second their eyes register objects that can be used to their advantage in defending themselves. To a soldier, or even an accomplished barroom brawler, all things that are not nailed to the floor are viable weapons. If you are attacked by an enemy who is hell bent on damaging you the only option is to attack hard and fast with no mercy. By all means. Be they fair or foul. As the saying goes... All is fair in love and war. ************************************************* I do my best work in the early hours of the morning, when the roads are quiet, the moon is high and the noise of my stereo is stonewall guaranteed to annoy the living fuck out of everyone who shares a street with me. While doing some research for an article I'm attempting to write I stood up and found...

Jenny has written something on her blog about me . Aint that nice? It's especially nice for me as I had no idea that Jenny thought so highly of me. Talk about amazed... I know Jenny and I have always got on but like many friendships there has always been a barrier between loving the person and actually telling that person just why you love them. Jenny doesn't see that barrier and has just amazed me by posting something so touching that I am astounded. It takes a lot to make me speechless. Jenny has achieved this. Love ya babe. (Don't worry Geoff, [Jenny's other half] I'm not going to try to steal your woman. You're way bigger than I am.)

Job? Yesterday I joined the ranks of the great unemployed. The reasons for my getting... The hoof, sacked, the elbow, binned, given my marching orders, receiving my pink slip, canned, kicked to the curb and enroned are long and complicated so I'll not go into details at the moment. Suffice to say I was sacked for blogging. So today I'm busy getting my act together and am trying to find a new job. Wish me luck. Anyone who wishes to offer me a job where I can write whatever takes my fancy, please drop me a line.

The cold light of early afternoon is now upon me, my body is clear of chemicals, my head is no longer buzzing like an angry bee trapped inside an upturned a pint glass and I'm no longer of the mindset where I want to chase the White Rabbit. I could try until the end of time to explain why I felt the need, nay, necessity to go out on a blow out, but I doubt very much whether I'd be able to, so I won't attempt to rationalize that which is not rational. If I said The Grand Whazoo told me to do it would you believe me? I doubt it... I could attempt to say that I was performing an experiment involving the changing of the chemical structure of my brain but doing so would only be pointless. Or I think it would... Perhaps there was no reason behind my decision. Humans do, on occasion, do things without reason. Take the example of Edmund Hillary , he climbed Mount Everest "Because it was there." That to me sounds completely unrational but to him it was as natural a thought...

Synchronicity . Mythbusters is on TV now. Adam is wearing a Gonzo Fisted shirt . Kari Byron makes me go all gooey... Her art , however, disturbs me. But it's all good.

Acid, LSD, Trips, call em what you will. I love em. There are currently 3 acid trips buzzing around in my system, along with a rather nice Mitsubishi (kindly donated by Spongebob...) that I just swallowed about fifteen minutes ago. Terence McKenna is talking about DMT through the headphones I'm wearing and I can hear the TV in the background. My senses are jangled and jarred as all these differing mediums attempt to cut through the fog. My thoughts, even though totally focused, are somewhat liquid. I'm beginning to sweat as the Mitsubishi kicks in and I can feel pulses of energy passing through me. Steff (my friend) is watching Worlds Wildest Videos and there is a story about Randy Hicks chasing tornadoes that subsequently decide "fuck you bubba..." and turn on him and his truck and throw them about like socks in a washing machine... The next clip is of Travis Pastrana knocking himself unconscious in Mexico... Followed by a clip of an out of control car, driven b...

It's become something of a tradition for Lyndsay "With an I" Broon and I to list top fives while we while work. So in order to continue this tradition here are the top five lists we did tonight. Top 5 songs you wish you had written. (One of which must be an instrumental.) Mine were as follows. Thank You - Led Zeppelin. Bullet in the Head. Rage Against the Machine. Heart of Gold. Neil Young. Grace. Jeff Buckley. Bonzo's Montraux. John Bonham. And Lyndsays were... I'll never grow old. The Charnels. Song 2. Blur. Another Star. Stevie Wonder. The Pink Room. Angelo Badalamenti. U Can't touch this. MC Hammer. Top 5 songs to do a striptease to. Mine... I was a Paint-stripper on the YTS. (Comedy version of Man to Man meets Man Parrish.) Shamalamadingdong. Otis Redding. Golden Vagina. (Lyndsay's version of Govinda by Kula Shaker.) Tush. ZZ Top. Wild Thing. Tone Loc. Lyndsays... The Pink Room. Angelo Badalamenti. Justify My Love. Madonna. Cream. Prince. Giving him ...

I see on the news that the Pope has offended an entire religion by making derogatory remarks about Islam. Well done that man. Way to go your holiness. Why be a religious leader if you can't offend an entire culture once in a while? Nah, I'm only yanking your chain. Personally I think the comments made by the Pope were plain old fashioned ignorance. But then again when has it ever been the duty of the Pope to be anything but? Pope John Paul wasn't exactly enlightened when he decided that condoms were the work of the Devil and that anyone wishing to avoid eternal damnation should steer clear of them despite AIDS being responsible for 2.8 million deaths last year.

There are many laws in our society. Way too many for me to list them all here but one very important law has been overlooked... The law preventing policewomen from being good looking. "What's brought this on?" You may wonder. Well, it's like this... There I was in bed watching Nascar, quietly wondering what possible attraction there could be in watching the most rednecked of sports, when my phone rang. I walked through to the livingroom, wondering if someone had dialed the wrong number and was about to ask me if they could get a taxi, and picked up the phone. "Hello." I said. Even though the urge to yell "What the fuck are you calling me at this time of night for!" was quite overwhelming. "Is that Ross Douglas?" The voice on the other end of the line enquired. "Yes." I answered. "This is Lothian and Borders Police here." Said the voice. "Ohh Fuck." I thought to myself... "Have they finally caught up with...

Why postal workers in the USA are fond of the occasional gun wielding rampage. Until, that is, I began to give serious consideration to the life of a postal worker. I came to the conclusion that the reason must be that the average postal worker works strange hours and as such is removed from society in general and is shunted off to the fringes... The Wee Small Hours is a dark and dangerous place to exist; Sunlight becomes a rarely seen thing, interpersonal relationships are restricted to milkmen, gothic types, homeless people, drunks making their way home after a night on the sauce and surly co-workers who also inhabit the part of the day that, over time, slowly rots away your spirit. Not many people can live on the boundaries and still keep what little sanity they had to begin with. Fortunately I am one of those people. I can sleep all day only to emerge from my internal cocoon when the sun sets and darkness takes over. I skid and slide on the edges of dusk like a speed-skater who ha...

Mongo, moron, spongebrain, waterhead, window-licker, watch-breaker, wrist slapper, dumb, dipshit or daft. All of these words have been used by myself at some time or another to describe someone whom I considered to be really fucking stupid. And yet, I have never intentionally used any of them to describe someone who has a mental handicap. Well, that's not strictly true... I have used one or more of these words to describe someone who was born with a mental deficiency but in my defense that was before I developed the ability to think for myself and not to blindly accept the rhetoric spouted by the less desirable influences of society. You, no doubt, have witnessed these people in your life and have also been a mindless victim of their shitstrewn sensibilities and shallowminded subtleties. So it goes... Until you realise that all people are the same regardless of their mental capabilities. (With the obvious exception of the aforementioned arseholes who should be taken out into a fie...

Catches the worm. Or so they say. Who they are I have no idea but for some reason they always tell you things that are just plain old fashioned fucking stupid. An early bird doesn't catch the worm. No siree bob. The early bird flies out of the nest, lands on the grass (in an attempt to catch the worm) and is eaten by a fox because the bird is tired and should have had another hour in its bed. I was the early bird this morning. At 6am I awoke... From a most enjoyable dream where I was kicking seven shades of shit out of a petty minded fucktard that it's my displeasure to know. Hey; No names, no pack drill... I rolled out of my bed and headed for the shower. I proceeded to attempt to wake myself from my slumber by stepping under the spray of water and switching the heating off on the water. After about three minutes of the cold water bouncing off my head I was awake enough to scream at the top of my voice, "Holy fuck that water's colder than a hookers heart!" Which...

Lyndsay "with an I" Broon and I listed our top five denizens of cool on Saturday night. So I thought I'd post them here. My top five were as follows... Bill Hicks. (Comedian.) Lenny Bruce. (Comedian.) Jimi Hendrix. (Guitarist.) John Bonham. (Drummer.) Steve McQueen. (Actor.) And Lyndsay's were as follows... Marvin Gaye. (Singer.) Humprey Bogart. (Actor.) Prince. (Singer.) Brett Easton Ellis. (Author.) Elephant man. (Rapper.)

It's always a shock to the system, the loss of something precious. Sure, with time you will adjust to the loss. But from the moment you realise that its gone for good your heart sinks. I feel this way now though I'm slowly coming to grips with the stark reality that I will never again see my sunglasses. We had some great times together. For more than ten years we were inseparable. Wherever I went they followed... We traveled to South Africa and back... We went to Dublin... Then, one sunny day, we went to St Andrews and we were separated. Goodbye my friend. Wherever you are.

At 6am I dragged myself from my bed, after only three hours sleep, and hauled my sleepy self into the shower. The water knocked me into something close to a state of consciousness. I finished my shower, wrapped a towel around myself, headed for the livingroom and lit a cigarette. I switched my stereo on and put some music on while I got dressed. At about 6:50 my phone rang. My mother was calling to let me know that she'd be there in about ten minutes. I grabbed my stuff and left the house to go to the top of my road to wait for the car arriving. As the car approached I saw my dad at the wheel, my mum in the passenger seat and my friend Yvoone in the back looking like she was still half asleep. The car stopped and my mum got out to let me into the back of the car and we headed off towards St Andrews. We arrived at Skydive St Andrews at about 8:20am and Yvoone and I went to manifest to register for our jump. We checked in and were told to go grab a seat in the cafe. I sat with a cup ...

I shall be leaving my house to go to St Andrews to, once again, attempt to leap from a perfectly serviceable aircraft. For this reason I haven't got time to sit here and write much tonight as I need to grab some sleep. Sorry y'all. Feel free to keep checking back though. Until next time. Stay happy.

To commemorate fuckwits. And that's probably just as well. Can you imagine the cost involved? Your council tax would, no doubt about it, shoot up quicker than a junkie who just got a lay-on until giro day. We'd run out of public space in less than a week. Memorials for half-witted council workers would take up more room than three aircraft carriers that had been stripped down to their individual parts and beaten flat. Shitheel government departments, the kind that spend money on unnecessary and costly projects, would generate enough sculptures to make the National Galleries wonder where they're going to get the money from to annex a small country to store them all in. Rulecrazy ruffians in positions of power would provide enough effigies to cover the Isle of Skye to a depth of about forty feet and owners of marble quarries would become the richest men in the world overnight. So thank The Grand Whazoo that we haven't built monuments for morons, effigies to inefficiency, ...

For work today. Which may not seem like much of a thing to go telling the world about. Until you consider that I wasn't due into work until 4pm. How bad is that? Should I be ashamed? If so, tough titty Kitty, I'm not ashamed. If anything, I'm proud. Yes, you read that right... I'm proud... Proud of the fact that I slept half the day away... Proud of the fact that I stayed up all night and played on the X-box... Proud that I was kept awake and buzzing by the two nice big lines of speed I partook of during the Scotland match last night. If you find this a shocking thing to admit to then you should be ashamed.

Doesn't have a clue... Now before you all jump to the conclusion that I think my mother is unintelligent; Please, calm down. I'm not saying that. That isn't the intention of that statement. Your perception however, may have been that that line was a dig at my mother. All that line is is a small introduction to this post. It's just my way of writing. You'll get used to it. Anyhoo... My Mother doesn't have a clue. About how much I love her.

The largest spider I'd ever seen was during my trip to South Africa. Compared to the average British spider the South African spider was a monster. I kid you not it's legs were as thick as a baby's finger and I could see my reflection in it's eyes. All eight of them. It freaked me for a second or two, looking at this beast of a spider, but I knew it was safe enough as Steve had informed me so. Yesterday, however, I saw a spider that made it's South African relation look like a money spider. To say that this spider was big would be an understatement. I kid you not, it was fucking huge. I'd just got up from my chair to go to the toilet to relieve my bladder and I spotted something moving in the hallway. For a second I thought it was a trick of the light or a figment of my imagination. Until I took another step towards it and it twitched. I stooped over to take a closer look at what had moved. I noticed it was a spider and leaped back like a man who's just spot...

In the space time continuum can have larger effects on everyday reality than you can realise... The chaos theory is usually bubbled down to something along the lines of "If a butterly flaps it's wings in China, there will be a hurricane in the mid-west of America." And that's a load of horse-shit. Anyone with at least a small knowledge on how the world works knows that the USA has an embargo on wind that comes from China. After all, wind from China can turn you into a yellow Commie bastard... I'm not about to pretend that I understand chaos theory. (Fuck that for a game of soldiers. I'll leave shit like that up to the eggheads of the world who have an inclination to bother with guff like that.) But, what I do know is that everything you do has an effect. If you eat too many cakes; You'll get fat. If you jog on a regular basis; You'll get fitter. If you drink too much; You'll fall over and if you beat the shit out of your wife she'll leave you, ...