I'm still alive

Although after last nights works do and then more boozing at another party afterwards, it's a close run thing. I feel like mildly tepid death.

There's been a stack of stuff I've thought about blogging recently but I just haven't gotten around to it. I may do one or two of them in the coming weeks, but I thought I might just share a few audio files that appeared on a blog that I read called Chase Me Ladies, I'm In The Cavalry. These audio clips are recordings of real calls made to the Cambridgeshire police 999 emergency line. The stupidity of these people has to be heard to be believed. I'm actually quite astonished any of them can remember to breathe. Anyway, here they are (all mp3 files which can be played directly from the link, no need to save them locally):

The crazy old lady

What is today's date?

There's pole dancing at number three

I can't find Homebase and I'm very distressed

Is there a hairdressers open in Cambridge?

The operators show a level of restraint and patience that is truly remakable in the face fo such mind-bendibgly idiotic people. I really hope that if I ever have a need to call for police assistance that I get one of these people because they appear to be completely unflappable.

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Notes from a small island

No, really, I am on a small island. Hong Kong to be precise. Why, you might be wondering, am I blogging whilst I am on holiday? Well, the thing is, I have managed to get a cold and after tromping around the Jade Market this morning and the IFC Mall this afternoon, I didn't really feel like going out to Lantau to see the Big Buddha or up to see the Ten Thousand Buddhas. Plus it started to rain. Arse. So, I've come back to my friend's apartment where I'm staying to check on my return details, take hot Beechams and vitamin C in the hope that I will feel better for my last couple of days.
I can never get it quite right on holidays: I never know whether to go all out and try to see and do everything I can or use the time to relax, wind down and catch up on sleep. I don't normally go abroad - in fact this is my first foreign holiday in three years and the first time in a long time that I've gone long distance. Not because of some worthy reason like carbon footprints or anything but simply because I hate flying and the hassle and expense it engenders. Plus there are a lot of beautiful places to go in the UK and Ireland. But this time, given that I've travelled something like 6,000 miles, I figured it would be churlish not to try and fit in plenty.
Problem is, I was pretty tired and run down before I left what with one thing and another and since I arrived I have had two nights out which ended at about, ooohh, 7am (including the night I stepped off the plane after a 12 hour flight and losing most of a day) and I have definitely been out and about seeing the sights. Of course, being on holiday has meant that beer has been drunk (and cocktails, and champagne and flaming Lamborghinis and I don't know what else). Coupled with dramatic change in climate experienced between the UK and here and a change in diet that has seen three normal meals a day replaced with ad hoc meals of all sorts and a serious reduction in vitamin C intake, this has left me a bit susceptible.
Maybe now I see why tropical islands with so little to do on them other than laze about in the shade and drink the occasional cold one hold such appeal to so many. You see, there are two kinds of holidays: Travelling and relaxing. Travelling holidays are where you go to visit places and see stuff, do stuff. Relaxing holidays are just that. I have to say that I really should have gone for a relaxing holiday this time round. Never mind - the main thing is it's still been a blinder and it's not over yet and I'd do exactly the same again as I got to see my friend, make some new ones and have some truly memorable times (Lan Kwai Fong is not easily forgotten and cocktails at the Felix Bar in the legendary Peninsular Hotel is something you have to do when you're here). So, with that in mind, it's time to watch a movie, drink some more Beechams and have tea. Ta ta.

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Ho ho fuckin' ho

Whilst it is indeed true that Christmas comes but once a year, it seems to come around with depressing speed as time goes by. No, this isn't a diatribe about how time seems to speed up as you get older, but it's nearly as popular a theme about this time of year. Today I went into town to do some holiday shopping (I shall be jetting off to the Orient in a few days time for a much needed break) and I discovered that Bath city council have decided to put up the Christmas decorations already. It's still the middle of October and we have the lights, tinsel and baubles out already.

Why? Why the bloody hell do we need this cack up when we're still two full weeks from Guy Fawkes' night? And even then it'll be another 7 or 8 weeks until Christmas itself. Granted this isn't as bad as the supermarkets and department stores who start decking the halls with boughs of holly (or at least putting wrapping paper, cards, tinsel and crackers on the shelves along with other assorted seasonal tat) sometime in September, but still - at least lets have the fireworks before we start breaking out the plastics Santa’s.

I used to love Christmas - what kid doesn't? The excitement building up to it, the expectation of presents (fairly modest ones when I was a lad as there were three of us kids and my Dad was just a middle ranking civil servant so we weren't exactly flush), the sights and smells you only got once a year (Liquorice Allsorts, Quality Street and peanuts always stuck out for me), the school Christmas play and so on. I loved it all. But as you get older you are more aware of the rank commercialism that goes along with it and that rather tarnishes the whole experience.

Don't get me wrong: I am an atheist and couldn't give a monkeys bollock about all the religious shite surrounding the whole thing (lets face it - most of the accompaniments are in fact of Pagan origin, not Christian, and I'm certainly not averse to the sentiment of peace and goodwill to all men. You don't have to be religious to subscribe to that one), so I don't feel that any kind of message or spiritual significance is being diminished, but it is just such a grotesque example of rampant consumerism now that it's depressing. Kids get hundreds, even thousands, of pounds worth of presents and yet seem ever more ungrateful as well as growing up without any concept of the value of money. OK, so I'm guilty too - I don't have kids but I do like to spoil my nieces and nephews rotten because I love them dearly but at least I know my sisters, whatever their financial position at any given time, will most certainly impart a sense of propriety regarding money to their kids.

When I was at university, Christmas was still a good laugh for a number of reasons. Firstly, my old mate Rich and I would wander round town of a Saturday afternoon browsing the nice looking Christmas goodies in M&S and shaking our heads in wonder at the really weird selection of random gifts that department stores flog. Then there would be lots of parties and my housemates and I would have our own Christmas day before the end of term when I would cook a roast chicken dinner and we'd exchange presents and play board games - all good clean fun (at least until we got completely arseholed on cheap wine and other booze whereupon it would descend into enjoyable anarchy). But once uni was done, it just got less and less enjoyable.

All in all I hate Christmas shopping with a passion because, especially in this town, the streets are rammed with sideshows, merry-go-rounds and slow moving morons who stop in the middle of the street to stare at things meaning you, who are trying to get everything done pronto so you can go home and fume, just get more and more annoyed. As for the day itself, well it depends on where I am and who I'm with. I have traditionally taken a dim view of it in my adult life thanks to the stress induced by my step mother (who, quite frankly, is an odious old bitch who makes everyone’s life a misery. But the last two Christmases have been spent with my sisters and were very enjoyable (especially when my niece and nephew were involved - there's something to be said for experiencing Christmas vicariously through good kids and their infectious excitement). This year, I don't know what I'm doing but I'm probably staying at home and just relaxing but until December at least, I won't even be giving the event itself any more though than that because it's too damn early!

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Hahahahahahahahahaha!

Bad luck France - 34-10 to the Pumas and your second loss to them in the same tournament. You must be so proud. Now maybe that ridiculous looking hair-bear of yours might go and get a proper haircut, the scruffy oik. And maybe you ought to get yourselves sorted because if Argentina to get into the 6 nations then it will make things very interesting and, much as I enjoy seeing you get well and truly rinsed, it would be a shame for what was once a quality team fall apart. And it would make European rugby just that bit duller.

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Dan le Sac and Scroobius Pip strike again

Scroobius Pip is a contemporary poet placing his verse over modern electronic beats provided by Dan le Sac. They're beginning to get a cult following and it's not hard to see why. Pip tends towards quasi-political statement without entering into direct positional discourse whilst commentating on the trends and happenings of modern life. But never mind all that cack - the point is that he's pretty astute has a lot more to say for himself than any other song writer I've heard of late. I've already posted Thou Shalt Always Kill, so here's Letter From God for your enjoyment.

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