Dulce et Decorum Est - pro patria mori (look it up, I did!)

Oh deary me, there is about to be an absolute plethora of, frankly annoying, pseudo commemoration of the victims & heroes of the World Trade Centre (I do remember what I was doing on that day, I was watching it on TV).
Now I have said that, I know that I will have stirred the ire within all nationals of the Isle of Yoosay, some of whom will have, by now, decided that this post is going to be controversial, and that I am raising a metaphorical gauntlet in preparation for a duel. Stay your hand, my petulant colonial cousins, (read on, you'll get to that bit), I am bemoaning the anticipated requests on that, oh so popular, social networking site, I do so in reference to their futility, does anyone think for a moment that "repost this if you feel the same" is a genuine action? Does anyone believe that governments will take any notice? Most of all, that any religious nut bag will read it and instantly feel remorse?
 No.
These are proclamations of idleness, placebos for true gestures.
"Did you go on a protest march to show your dissatisfaction that your government had lied to you to take you into a war under false pretences?"
"No but I did put up five inches of text in absolute disgust, that'll show them!"
(Believe it or not, I actually measured it! So it might not appear that way on your screen but it does on the one I'm using).
 The last thing I wish this post to convey is an illusion that I condone in any way acts such as the one that was perpetrated on that day. But don't try to make me feel guilty because I am criticising empty gestures that are only a cut & paste away from being nothing at all.
I am painfully aware that thousands of families were directly affected by this despicable action, and that it will feature on the news more & more over the next eleven days, I am also aware that the civil forces involved (namely the firemen & the police, but there were others) should also be praised for some astonishing acts of gallantry, they should also be suitably represented at the tenth anniversary memorial service, absolutely, no doubt whatsoever!
I remember being a target for terrorists (purely for the fact that I joined H.M. Forces) and it wasn't nice. It was due to the I.R.A. and they attacked the sceptic Isle on repeated occasions, they even went out of their way and committed acts of terror in mainland Europe, this was a terrorist organisation that used extortion and robbery to raise its funds (but mostly relied on funds from Libya and, guess who, yes some organisations based in the Isle of Yoosay) then, straight after the attack on the World Trade Centre, a certain (unelected in my view) George W Bush was heard to say "if you hide a terrorist, if you feed a terrorist, if you provide comfort to a terrorist, you're just as guilty as the terrorist."  (Errr! George, you have just inculpated half of your eastern sea board).
The reactions of some of my friends on that day almost ten years ago, the one of amazement, of pure unadulterated shock that anyone could ever want to do something so heinous, on their sovereign soil!
Yet, some of them can be "Gung Ho" when it comes to sending their armies to countries (that are not actually anything to do with the attack), and wonder why their popularity (along with all their allies) has plummeted to depths only bathyspheres could measure. Thanks!
If you wish to commemorate this anniversary, do it in a truly constructive way, give a small amount to a deserving charity, help someone who needs help, make the world a slightly better place, smile and wish people a happy/nice day, anything really but don't just put something (that someone else wrote) into your status and go patting yourself on the back for a job well done.
And to anyone who starts with the tired and jaded  "If you're not with us, you're against us".
Sod off!
Support your troops, Yes, Yes and Yes again!
Support the weasely, spineless, power hungry, avaricious tosspots that send them to their deaths and hide behind national pride to justify their means? (well that bit is up to you, after all, we are supposed to have democracy on our side of the planet).
 

Keeping it reel

More of the same I'm afraid dear reader, there is a lack of comprehension (on my behalf I assure you) welling up as to make a suitably large explosion of confusion upon the very page you view, here.
Why (oh why oh why, to enter into the "points of view" mode necessary for me to express this avenue of angst) does it occur to me that just as I start to enjoy the subtleties of our mother tongue (Oooer missus) do I witness it being randomly (I was going to use the word systematically but that would have implied organisation) butchered, in verse and in life.
Yes this wonderful language of ours is being usurped by a foul and ugly argot, why? The normal evolution of a language is by normal use and adoption, thus spellings and pronunciation gently slide in and out of fashion at an almost tectonic pace, I turn my back on the old country (for a mere decade) and it has seemingly been invaded by aliens, all of which appear to have been studying old Grange Hill reruns and listening to BBC Radio One's output, and they have come to the conclusion that normal people talk "Ghetto". (reminiscent of Coneheads 1993 (starring Dan Aykroyd)

Surely the reaction of anyone who is brought up in any form of deprivation is to escape said adversity and to ensure that the state is not entered into again, why then, are the teens I am referring to, emulating characters who are inherently depicted as poor, criminal and generally undesirable or merely subjugated so much that their only choice is to ghettoise and "live the life"?

It must be mentioned that there are some, very successful, famous persons who have managed to come from such disadvantaged positions, but that does not make it de rigueur to regress prior to attaining status. They, invariably, move away from the street (and into some pretty big mansions see below)

Incidentally this is nowhere near the owners Brooklyn place of birth (just in case you were wondering)
 

What used to be described as "street-wise" is now shortened to "Street". OK but I do remember street pertaining to tramps, is this the logical direction to head for the next generation? To achieve approbation from their peers will they need to sport matted hair, mutter unintelligibly and reek of urine?

It has been, for years, the very thing to proclaim your intelligence (why would you have everyone scorn you?), especially in the right circles, has this, just as the meanings of so many words (such as "sick"), been reversed? So now is it socially acceptable to be a window licker? (OK so you are a stockbroker by day, but your night time guise is as the village idiot). Where does this amazing idea come from?

Will these people look back in their dotage and cringe (well I do when I see pictures of myself in scrotum crushing canvas jeans), I hope so, I really do!

Punk's not dead (it has qualified for a pension though)

How much like my father do I sound? (probably quite a lot is the unfortunate answer), I can't think when it happened, did someone swap my skin tight jeans for some tweed trousers or something? Granted my father doesn't have an earring, but is that my only attempt to veer away from the long downhill roll into oblivion?
What started this one? (thank you for asking dear reader, I was wondering when you would step in) I was cringing in the worst possible way at what passes for talent (I can even feel shades of my Grandpa seeping through now). Alright there are some amazing songs (oops I mean tracks!) from time to time (and all praise to bands such as Muse who dash this little corner of bitterness into a pulp and waggle their finger at the general line I'm taking), but we are running out of these acts, the ones that show any form of longevity (and originality come to think of it).
I'm probably going to contradict myself during this blart so watch out for it (first correct entries will receive a curt "Bog Off") but what I'm trying to get at is not the lack of talent (for there must be huge piles of it (round the back, bring your own sack)) but what will our wonderful successors use to illustrate when they berate their youngers "call this a tune? we had real bands in my day" (Small child with 1930's hair do (for it is back in fashion) "no you f##king well didn't!" (and he'll be correct)). Lady Gaga is not a new concept she is a mildly talented hag with a marketing division behind her (ooh but she reinvents herself all the time! That old trick? I think you might want to refer back to David Bowie for that (and Madonna was a cheap (if sometimes more masculine) version of him too).
Where are the modern day versions of Slade's Merry Christmas? (maybe not that one then but you catch my drift).
I was fortunate enough to have been aware when Punk was emerging (OK my sisters were doing a wonderful job of aversion therapy using the fab four, which has had the profound effect of making me feel nauseous at the very sound of the intro to "I wanna hold your hand" and the majority of the Beatles catalogue.) and the new wave phase, then I got into Motorhead (no don't laugh) and via them I turned the clock back to Black Sabbath, Led Zep and ultimately Deep Purple, all the while my dad was running a Ceilidh (pronounced Kaylee) band and playing Steeleye Span, Swan Arcade and Fairport Convention (which to be honest I still like, and they were a shit load better than grandpa's Jimmy Shand and his Band). Eclectic? Yes I like to think so, I do like to listen to classical music from time to time too.
Does this make me a music snob? Probably, but I was in a couple of bands (many many wonderful wonderful years ago) so I do appreciate the complexity (and the aggravation ) of getting a song to sound as if it was meant to be played by the protagonists "who stand before you" and the heartache (and sheer awkwardness) of seeing those who didn't quite (OK some were so bad they were brilliant).
So what I'm pushing at is that there doesn't seem to be many bands (not like there were in my day (Yorkshire accent will do this justice) who are up to the task of standing the test of time, when the dear little mites are not so little (and probably a lot more likeable than they are right now) who will they have to annoy their fledglings with, who will they be able to hold up to the light and declare "that was a band that shaped a generation"
Justin (Nae Baws) Bieber? JedWood? Come on! Convince me I am wrong someone (or are we about to see a George Formby revival?

C'est une bonne idée

This time (make the most of it dear reader) the title fits the post (well to start with anyway).
I'm all for good ideas, after all they are good, such as unification of a measuring system, (and with a few exceptions) we (the population of the green/blue marble) have sidled over to the metric system (see previous).
This really does make things easier! Honest, try it, go somewhere else and try to explain to Johnny Foreigner that you want a pint, or a quarter pound of Yorkshire mixture, and watch the furrowed brow dominate his facial expression. (OK maybe the Yorkshire Mixture is a bad example but I hope you tag on to my gist).
Standards can be (and in most cases are)  very useful (by definition: Something, such as a practice or a product, that is widely recognized or employed, especially because of its excellence.)
Common practices are also useful to enable universal understanding and work practices.
OK all well & good, we can all get our heads around (individuals with more than one head should identify with this) the supposition that good ideas should be adopted with gusto and a general sense of satisfaction that the right thing is being done. However, (this is the part where my mind overtakes my typing ability) who regulates the label "good" when it is applied to ideas?
 Elected bodies (such as governments) purportedly assume this role and often arbitrarily enforce decisions, (remember that invading Poland was an instance of this before you jump to the back up rant of the prole who lays everything at the feet of such bodies) without due consideration to the moral, practical or even cultural consequences of said decisions. It could be noted at this point that it benefits, such as, the tabloid press in UK when "Brussels" allegedly hand out their "Whackey regulations" trying to standardise such things as fruit. In fact without such copy, the Daily Express would be reduced to fish & chip wrapping. (some say that wouldn't be a reduction).
So, I hear you ask, what defines a good idea? One that benefits the majority of society (tis you & I), one that makes life easier to live etc.
OK, what's a bad idea? (much easier) National ID cards (to name one), why? Unless you are going to use them as passports and driving licenses and eradicate the latter (two), what is the point, their reason for existence is the same (essentially) as passports & driving licenses, to identify the bearer, unless of course there is a more sinister, underlying  reason to introduce such items, (if so I would argue that there is no need in fact to have any such thing, just give everyone a mobile phone and sit back and track their whereabouts from there).

Health & safety (oooh watch out), I'm not saying that this is a bad idea, just bad implementation! ({readers voice}how so?)
 (Takes a run up to the keyboard)
Well, whilst many wonderful years ago (ooh lets get back to Victorian values, yes let's stuff small boys up chimneys and use little girls as dust collectors under large plant machinery) there were no regulations to protect the proletariat and the wool and cotton barons made huge piles of filthy lucre off the backs and sweat of the great unwashed. This was a bad thing, yes it was (well not for the barons, but we all know it was a bad thing). Enter the Health and Safety at Work etc. Act 1974. Tarra! (that was a fanfare for those who didn't know) and all was well with the world (OK the UK at least) and it was so. Unfathomably the act didn't cover all eventualities (tisk! what an oversight) and has been updated fortnightly since. Now, personally, I work in an industry which frowns upon being held up by minor inconveniences such as safety, but it truly spits the dummy when it gets hauled over the coals for losing one of its modern day chimney sweeps, so accordingly (and prevention is better than the cure in most cases) we (my comrades in production) are subject to ever increasing regulations (Harking back a couple of paragraphs to those who make the decisions, yes add this lot too) and the most noticeable is Personal Protective Equipment (PPE for short), looking back at the old lags photos, PPE was scant (even Scanty) to say the least, nowadays you would not be allowed out on the worksite without the full kit. (OK you say, what is wrong with that?)
Nothing wrong (at face value) with that (do let me finish before you butt in), except that now we seem to be legislating in favour of the moron, now we can see gaggles of retarded manifestations of the entire stocklist of a safety catalogue, infesting the woksite looking like they have just rolled off the set of a remake of Robocop with vacant smiles on their faces due to them being under the apprehension that they are wearing the suit of protection which makes them safe. We are taking the Darwin factor out of the equation, (there is a percentage in nature that just doesn't make it) not just that but it is now becoming obvious that if someone with a death wish wants to walk under a swinging load, they seem to think that as long as they have a plastic hat on their heads, they are safe.
No you tit, you are just easier to clean up after the load has squashed you into your hat & boots!

My idea for a safety campaign poster would be worded:
       Don't hurt yourself because the paperwork is a bitch

Conclusion, Yes there are some good ideas, but it might be an idea to consult the people whom the application of these ideas affect, prior to implementation.

I see no chips

Anyone who has read previous posts of mine (should be sectioned) will know of my general benevolence toward our colonial cousins (the occupants of the Isle of Yoosa). For those of you who are uninitiated in this subject, I will help to elucidate in this matter.
 Whilst I appreciate the enormous difficulty of prizing ones self away from idyllic surroundings (I hear that Detroit is a virtual Mecca for tourists) and foregoing the gastronomic delights of such epicurean doyens as Colonel Sanders, some of the islanders have become aware of "goings on" over the immediate horizon. Obviously, such awareness is frowned upon by the tribal chiefs, who endeavour to instil the "our way or the highway" version of patriotism in their subjects (so successfully endorsed by Kim Jong Il). Some of these islanders have even gone so far as to obtain travel documents (under what ruse is unclear at this time) and have even been granted passage to distant shores (Big silver bird come down from sky.....).
 This behaviour isn't particularly extraordinary and has been going on since April 6th 1917 when President Wilson started organising tours to Europe. Tourism of this kind increased in 1941 after a surprise test match saw the Japanese beating the Pacific Fleet on their home pitch and Hawaii was closed for renovations.
But I digress, the point of all this isn't aimed at those who desire to expand their horizons, more at those who seemingly belittle the experience (which I have seemed to do so far).
You, dear reader, have met the obvious "fish out of water" tourist, the Brits who insist on having an English breakfast and reading "The Sun" whilst surrounded by classic Spanish/Greek/Moorish architecture and a massive selection of local food that has absolutely nothing to do with Fish & Chips. The mentality of these types seems to be centred around them wishing to be at home whilst enjoying sunshine (a "cake & eating" conundrum which bewilders even the nominally sane amongst us), or the afore mentioned pseudo patriot with wanderlust (but no true desire to actually immerse themselves in foreign culture), the type who whisk themselves (or have themselves whisked) through entire continents in the same time as it would take a normal person to drink in the exhibits in an art gallery.
 I have (as you would probably have guessed by now) been on holiday with such as these, the sort that will enthuse with gusto about "a great little English restaurant" in Germany and even one who, in Thailand, refused to eat the local food (his loss not mine), instead, listing the fast food outlets he had frequented (happily he was the first of our group to succumb to a gastric ailment). ( If I were blessed with a more mature outlook, I would baulk at using the phrase "Ner nerny ner ner" but I haven't, so I don't!).
There, that deals with the individual, now to harp on (or wax lyrical) about what started this particular rant, I (that would be me) am particularly miffed at reading articles that are "America centric". Let me expand on this (oh go on then, if you must. I must! I must!) the assumption that everyone has blistering broadband, all power supplies are 110v, recipes should be expressed in cups and ounces, the world still knows what inches and pounds are, everyone subscribes to living the American dream, and the blisteringly sideways belief that Americans live in a democracy and enjoy more freedom than any other earth occupant, are all views that persist throughout media that manages to sneak itself under my nose. Stop it at once.
I will endeavour to explode these beliefs on a one to one basis (and in no way a "holier than thou" way due to my country of origin being England, I am painfully aware of my homeland's shortcomings (which is why I moved)).
The entire time I have been on the net (Accessing the sapient ether if you like) I have wished for speed, when I first went online I was impressed if my, pure text, emails came in within ten minutes, I have just managed to get something resembling broadband in Thailand installed and it still will not support HD video (and I'm not complaining, it is still an improvement on using my mobile phone as a modem).
110v is limited to North & Central America and Japan (and for reasons unbeknown to man) parts of Africa, the remainder of the planet has seen sense to a degree and lined up with 220v.
As for weights & measures the International System of Units is the official system of measurement for all nations in the world except for Myanmar (Burma), Liberia and the United States (in a phrase that will be familiar to the American continent "go figure"). Incidently, the reason for the Mars landing craft:

"The initial error was made by contractor Lockheed Martin Astronautics in Colorado, which, like the rest of the U.S. launch industry, traditionally uses English measurements. The JPL navigation team, on the other hand, uses metric measurements in the complex business of figuring out a spacecraft's position relative to moving planets and keeping it on course. The contractor, by agreement, is supposed to convert its measurements to metrics."
The American dream (officially been downgraded) (http://www.businessinsider.com/the-truth-about-the-american-dream-2011-6)

Democracy? Nah! (sorry I have lost the will to live reference this one) when someone can rig (or should that be "frigg" ) an election so obviously and get it past 220 million people (sorry Mr Lincoln when it gets this bad I have to question the legitimacy of your "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.") you have mislaid the meaning of the word, democracy.

Grrr grrr froth froth..................................................

Sapient Ether

Halfway through a facebook message to a really good friend (who I haven't seen in, way too long) I was endeavouring to describe my purpose in posting this blog and I came up with the above phrase (which I now claim as mine, which belongs to me) and I wrote the following.

The purpose of my Blog is for me to have a vague record of how and what I was thinking (maybe it will survive) as well as having a sounding board (and as you have to edit the words before you release them to the wild) it is improving my lexicon as well as (hopefully) providing a smile here and there.
Having read posts from a year or so back, I find that there is no form or formula (I wonder how those two words are related) and I can also hark back and recognise the stirring or inspiration that prompted comitting words to (need updated version of paper that means online, something like "sapient ether").

So committing my thoughts to the sapient ether is a very Zen thing (if I blog and nobody reads it......).

Again, asking for a definition, is the internet sapient? Well yes it is in the way that if some "fact" is propagated (being either true or false) enough, it becomes a fact in peoples minds, also it is hanging in the limbo that is cyberspace ready to be declared on as many screens and therefore read by as many eyes as will accept it, thus becoming faith not fact, (oooh interesting one, at what point does the internet (which does exist dear reader) become a vehicle of the rantings and wild musings of the theologically belligerent, and thus a vehicle for the pedalling of malevolent versions of what, intrinsically, was meant to be guidelines for desert dwelling folk or a basis of a primitive civilisation (good intentions huh?)?).

The erect penis of the male rabbit flea is over two thirds the entire length of its body!
Statement of fact!

 But how true is it and how can you trust your references? I know this fact to be true because I read it in a useless fact book when I was nine or ten (hang on, let me think about this, there is a book of useless facts, how am I about to verify even the existence of this book? And then to verify the accuracy of its contents. the cycle goes on, and we must perpetuate it otherwise we are not being scientific, we are falling into faith).
THIS WILL NOT DO
We are thinking beings, let us stay that way

Many Riggers to Cross

And todays beef is.................... (rummages around in an upturned top hat) self proclaimed wit.
Okay much hasn't been said on this subject (well not that I have seen any how), I am actually referring to people who declare themselves funny, (or crazy, or mad) my least favorite is a Radio Bahrain DJ who adopted the moniker "Krazy Kevin", well forgive me for not rolling around and holding my ribs at the mere mention of his name (possibly due to the fact that he is dull, inane and down right irritating (in my opinion)). Yes I will grant him the fact that someone called Kevin is unlikely to be crazy (in the normal run of things) but this joke has already been cast (albeit in reverse) by Attila the Stockbroker (John Baine) and was remarkable at the time. This dullard (alluding to Krazy Kevin) pronounces himself Crazy! (several times a show)
I just hope that some men in white coats turn up and cart him off in a straight jacket.
Enough of him, I would like to turn my attention to some others (some of them I have great affection for) who insist on telling me that they have made a joke after a sentence (which is quite obviously intended as a joke) has been written, not only do they perform this unnecessary act, they manage to do it in an annoying way.
I have no objection to "lol" nor have I any malice to the hehe, as replies, and I even think that the Thai way of doing it "555" (5 is pronounced "ha" in Thai) show a bit of imagination. It is the placing of these, after a sentence which points to a reduction in IQ (or too many hours watching soap operas) and has the effect on me of wanting to throttle people who I would (normally) consider friends and would seek out their company (even if only for a limited time).
So what to do? Do I unfriend these people and alienate them entirely? (I think not because despite the flawed application of these TLAs and imitative nouns (namely: haha), they still rank within my "friends" category in my internal filing cabinet ). Do I tell them "not to be so bloody annoying"? (Again the answer is no, they are sensitive types who will rush to the nearest corner to BooHoo (as I probably would).
So I am left with one option, hope!
Yes you read it correctly, hope.
And "How?" I hear the imaginary crowd shout, "Will that work?"
I'll tell you, I will publish this and HOPE three things:
i) That the people concerned will read this
ii) That they realise who they are
iii) That they don't take offense or start messaging me (and doing it on purpose, now knowing what rankles)

I am the optimist.

Yahooer

Sounds dirty doesn't it, actually I would use the word for some one who "yahoos" or a person who is engaged in doing things on yahoo.
Upgrade to the latest version of yahoo (they said). So I did, little realising that the "Latest" version does not refer to the most modern, it actually refers to the speed at which you are able to access your emails. Not only that but it enthusiastically lets you know what dozens of other yahooers (non of which you have any reason to even know, nevermind have the slightest interest in) are doing in their own mundane existences.

I don't remember ticking any boxes that said "I want bollocks in my inbox"  or "let me know what every other git in the world is doing", so why do I end up with updates about baseball (a game that leaves me wondering if I need to redecorate some room or other) American Football (a poor imitation of a real game) or Nascar ( I won't even be drawn on this one). I don't want them and resent their presence in my "I want to access my immediate world" page, neither do I wish to hear that "Pugsly Matovani is connected to Fiona Whttingloffer" I don't know either of them so what earthly interest could I possibly have in finding out that they have found common ground and are well on their way to procreating?
Nope! I want an option to strip down this interface to the point where I can access my emails, this would probably make the delivery of said emails a touche more rapid, giving me more time to gripe about something that really gets on my nerves on here.

That's Rich

Yesterday, perusing my Spam Bin (I do this in case some important stuff goes the wrong way, doing this actually resulted in my present employment, so I do it regularly) I noticed a "letter from the FBI" warning me of fraud, outlining the methods used by certain nationals of the Dark Continent. Not remarkable in itself I thought, until I scrolled down and saw that it beseeched me to supply my contact details, age, nationality and everything else (short of bank account number and password) previously outlined in the letter, for security reasons.

My thoughts on this (not the cartoon)? Witty, audacious, surprisingly original and bloody funny actually. My second thoughts on this? I wonder how many people actually think that they could have possibly won a lottery that they never bought a ticket for or inherited money from an unknown relative, (or basically come into a windfall with no provenance and even implied illegal activity)

Lawks & Lummee, That's a wrong un and no mistake

As you have probably gathered (well anyone who has read more than two of my blarts) the title doesn't always align to the post, such is the way with these things.
Todays weather is lovely, so lovely in fact that as we have a slack period ahead our Soup has ventured forth toward the best place onboard the SS Dodgey Sausage (namely the heli deck) to absorb some vitamin D and to generally perk up his mood (good thing too some might say) I, on the other hand, have opted to stay here in my fort holding mode (just in case any disaster rears its ugly head) and type a small addition to this, the sporadic ramblings of Moi.
Much more than this I cannot expand upon without dulling down the events so crucial to your attention span, dear reader (I put this in the singular because usually there is only one of you, it stays pertinent however, because the reader is singular whatever the size of group he/she is in due to the execution of the act of reading is through ones eyes (apologies to braille readers) and is thus a singular event). (Logic)
And on that note I will abandon you till the next flow of complete bollocks.

Don't go to Africa

The amount of people, with the same last name as me, who die in Africa is, frankly, appalling. I'm sure that if Governments would correlate these figures (mine being a relatively uncommon surname) they would be alarmed and would issue warnings to my namesakes. Not withstanding the fact that so many like named people are seemingly dropping off like flies, they also seem to be, to a man, reasonably well off and from strangely small families. These pointers alone should be enough to have any government agency running for the mute button on the alarm bell, and rallying round to warn my similarly Christened stalwarts (kinfolk or not) that it is inadvisable to
a: go to the dark continent
b: have heaps of money deposited in a shadey bank whose employees are willing to share the fruits of your labours the minute you shuffle off the mortal coil.
c: not leave a will

Fortitude

OK I have completed the shifts worth of work (actually before the shift started) so I have to type up much interest (that is like hyping up, but writing about it) and now my, old before his time, colleague is badgering me to go for a cigarette before the due time.
Let me explain, I have given up the carcinogenic weed many times (every night) and abstained from it for years at a time, as I made my triumphant return to the SS Dodgey Sausage, I vowed to resist the hold this substance has on me, unfortunately, due to me having the willpower with the consistency of fresh porridge a new carton of Phillip Morris's product was purchased.
Now the aforementioned colleague has agreed to rationing our ciggie intake to one every 2 hours (7 a day), and we have enough to last us (at this rate) until we are supposed to make land fall, at which time we are going out (on the lash) after we return to the sea we are avowed to be "sans tabs". However, he is inclined to try to entice me to having a cigarette prior to the alloted time, whilst I am steadfast and true in the metering out of the tobacco there is an added incentive to the declining of these requests, it pisses him off!
Squirm my friend, squirm. 

All Aboard the SS Dodgey Sausage

Back on the old tug again, this time I have discovered a secret room formerly unknown to me (and judging by appearances several others around here) it is referred to as "The Gym" and, whereas previously I eschewed such gratuitous implements of masochism, I became enamored of  the device known as "the treadmill".
It, and I, have formed a bond, and convene on a regular basis to induce perspiration (exuding from myself) and a feeling of euphoria (apparently due to my production of endorphins ).
And all this for free, who'd have thought eh?
I know that I'm on a vessel with limited area and thus a treadmill makes a lot of sense, but it has occurred to me that to have a treadmill and live in the country would be a bit of a waste of time (dog ownership & barking comes into the equation).
Much the same as working on a boat and going on a cruise on your time off, it's just not lining up in my head, I am wondering if my reader feels the same as I when I delve into these thought processes.
Thus the phrase, busman's holiday.
   

Psmith in the City

There are quite a lot of things in life that amuse me (the misfortune of others isn't normally one of them unless they have wronged me in someway, then I view it as comeuppance), I have just read a book by P.G. Wodehouse (he of Jeeves fame) and it tickled me somewhat, however, after reading it, my language altered somewhat (mostly for the better).

Conclusion? Reading improves your outlook on life as well as educating (OK so the book is nearly 90 years old but I think it still has relevance, well it must do or I wouldn't have had a clue as to its meaning), strange though I read the same book when I was 12 and it took me about a week, this time it only took me a day. I remembered the plot etc but the intricacies and the word play were possibly lost on me when I was 12, maybe I should read it again in 30 years and examine the difference then.

Meanwhile the march of time goes on and I am wondering what happened to my pseudo noble intentions of exploring the possibility of making ice whilst the sun shines, back shelved again I'm afraid, I will be addressing them when finances are more comfortable and my leisure time is sufficiently unoccupied for me to get off my hairy posterior and get the design tools out and stir my ambitions for such fanciful an occupation.

Stay tuned