The Return of Commuter Boy

Yes, the original Mr Angry is back as promised!

A brief interlude...

It's all been a bit quiet at the fishermen recently.

It's not that there's nothing to rant about - there's SO MUCH to rant about, believe me.

I just can't get motivated at the moment.

But, in the interim, below are links which you may find interesting:

http://radiationspaceboy.blogspot.com
http://dreamingofblue.blogspot.com


Hope you enjoy the reading. I'm going to go off and stick pins in a voodoo doll of Ian Paisley.

I am so proud

...someone found this site while doing a search for "masturbating chimpanzee."

That's the perfect way to brighten your morning.

(Finding this out by the way, not masturbating a chimpanzee...)

No no no no no no no!!!

Hideous news! Much badness and wrongness!

They're going to make a musical of Lord of the Rings.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Words fail me to describe how very wrong this is. I know there's song in the books, but for God's sake!

I can just picture it now. Effete boy with designs on being a Hollywood Star enters stage left:

"Gollum, Gollum, where do you go-o-o-o?"

Enter similarly effete boy, but who crouches and has a bit of mud artistically applied to show he's, you know, evil"

"I go, I go, I GO-O-O!
To find my precious..."

Dreadful. If you want to go and see a musical verison of the Lord of the Rings, go and see a Wagner opera (admittedly, not quite the same story, but still good fun). Otherwise, leave it alone!

It's Ranting Time!!!!

I've had a few weeks of lost, confused soul-searching recently, coupled with a resurgence in my writing for pleasure. And now, having been satisfied that I have finally hit upon my multi-million pound literary idea, and in true U-B style have realised that it's got bugger all to do with what I've been writing about so far, a comment in an earlier post has managed to return me to my bilious, misanthropic state (with less swearing, because apparently I keep on getting blocked bypeople's WebSense systems).

It stems from my earlier Olympic post, when I believe I let out a bestial howl of rage against the world for the fact that the IOC decided to give us the Olympics.

Many people have said about this "but our neglected athletes will finally get some funding."

Neglected my left bollock. I am sick of hearing this. I swear it's no coincidence that everyone who says this is of a vaguely sporty persuasion themselves. I consider sport to be less important than inspecting a recently-plucked nasal hair. I am not sporty in the slightest. Well, no, that's not true, I play golf and I swim. But neither of these are really sport. Physical exercise pales in comparison to the possibility of eating more pies. No, as people who know me will testify, music is my thing. And compared to music in this country, "our neglected athletes" are as the Royal Family compared to a Big Issue salesperson.

I can hear the cries of rage now - "but what about opera? And the Festival Hall?! What about Government Subsidies for the arts?!" And what I direct these people to is "What about Wimbledon? What about the new Wembley Stadium? What about Government support of professional sport?"

And that's the difference. When people talk about "our neglected athletes" they are, of course, talking about at grass roots level. And therefore, it's only fair to compare that to grass roots level in music and the arts. Now, last time I checked, sport was an essential part of the National Curriculum (albeit smaller than in our days). And with the Government fight against obesity, it will become more and more important. Despite selling off land, most state schools have some form of playing area, and some form of sports hall.

Yet the Labour Government has comprehensively stripped away all funding from the arts in school. When I was at school, it was in the dying days if music in the curriculum. Every school still has a pool of "school instruments", but these were falling into disrepair, and it was only through the good nature of some instrument suppliers that they were repaired at all. Now, the majority of these supplies have gone.

Last year, the Government suggested having a central pool of instruments to share around many schools. This comes from someone who clearly has never, and has shown no interest in ever learning an instrument. It doesn't work on a timeshare scheme!!! You need it to practice on!!!! These same cretinous imbeciles would never even think of suggesting that schools should ahve a central pool of sporting equipment, and that budding tennis players should share rackets. BECAUSE IT'S A STUPID IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The day arts funding, particularly in schools, comes at least vaguely close to sports funding, I will be a happy boy. But no, with the Olympics on the way, even professional arts will see their funding slip away. And that is a sad thing. So to all those people who say "what about our poor neglected athletes", I blow a general raspberry in their direction.

On a separate note, I was highly amused to see that, on my "referrers" tag in Bravenet, one of the ten listed there was someone who'd done a search for "ass fishermen".

What?!!!

I don't understand!!! Alright, perhaps it's a euphemism I don't know about. Perhaps it's to do with "dangling your rod". But I'm sorry, anything with the word "dangling" is not in the least bit erotic.

So to Mr "Ass Fishermen". I truly hope you found what you were looking for.

I Hate This Place 6

Haven't written anything since everything went weird in London.

Despite the last post, I didn't really worry about things. I'm pretty safe, and these things don't happen to me or people I know.

Then you've got last week and suddenly the world is turned on its head. Firstly, bomb alerts at stations which are getting worryingly close to routes that I take (you see, I've got the Not-In-My-Back-Yard attitude perfected). Then we get bomb alerts across the road from work. Deserted streets and buses, more information coming from BBC reporters than from our own security, our Mighty Leader deciding that it was just the right moment to start blathering on about Australia and their fascistic Prime Minister, possibly the only major world leader who can make George Bush look like a namby-pamby leftie. It's about then that I started thinking:

"I don't want to die in London."

Regular readers may remember my series of columns entitled "I Hate This Place", where I went on and on about how London isn't the greatest place in the world, but is in fact a stinking damp dog lying on the face fo humanity.

It's got its good points. The Proms - fantastic. And indeed the general music scene which is tremendous. The Mayor, who is a King. Yes, I like Ken Livingstone, and I'm not afraid to say it. He is a breath of fresh air in the world of politics by the fact that he doesn't lie. He doesn't give a shit about anywhere else except London, and he's very open about this fact. For that, I respect him. And for the fact that he regularly pisses off the spoilt rich kids of Kensington and Chelsea.

But there's no way I want to settle here. I'm a northern boy through and through, and London just doesn't agree with me. Living in London takes a lot out of you, what with the stress and all, and it only works while you take just as much back out of it. But you can't go on working and playing hard in a place like this - it leaves you exhausted.

I've always planned to retreat to York or somewhere round the North East to properly settle down. Yet now, and ashamed as I am to admit it, I'm starting to think there's a slight possibility (only slight, I know, but still possible) I might not achieve this goal. And that makes me hate London even more.

I feel ashamed to admit this. It's probably way to melodramatic. But that's what this blog is for.

I really should write about something different now - what do you reckon, carry on the Brief History of Chaulk? Commuter Boy? Or just vile brain-wrong?

Thoughts

Yesterday wasn't fun. It's worse when you think about it, and it's pretty hard not to think about it when you work amongst it all. It was a strange experience watching as the jokes amongst me and my colleagues that it was all a fuss about nothing died on our lips as we realsied it was a lot more serious than anyone thought. And interesting watching everyone try and keep each other jolly and happy while the doors were bolted and the protective shields raised. And the fact that, despite external appearances, everyone was worried about someone.

As the day wore on the mood changed. Making a break for home, you saw that most people were tetchy. Tempers were high, little things irritated. Never have I believed the saying "an Englishmen's home is his castle" as when I returned home yesterday. I may be Welsh but I think that saying holds true for all people.

Today things seem bizarrely back to normal. Almost eerily so. I caught a double decker today because I'm buggered if I'm going to be scared off public transport by this. And I think the same bloody-mindedness is common to a lot of people today.

And try as I might to avoid it, I cannot help but think about the horrendous repercussions this is going to have in the future. We aren't the most stable of people in the world, and many are now wounded and hurt. Large parts of the city are wounded and bleeding and looking to lash out. And that makes me more scared than any future threat.