Now I know I’ve been a bit absent with my blog posting recently. To be honest the only reason I haven’t written one over the past few months is because I’ve been busy pretending I have better things to do. However its been an eventful summer so far, I’m moving out on the 12th of September, I attended my personal best Glastonbury yet, successfully broke into the Glade festival, paid off a huge fine that has been haunting me for almost a year, as well as general dicking about. But I’d thought I’d get back to writing today to touch on some issues that I feel I have to touch on, after being inspired to do so throughout the summer by certain events that I attended. So as another typical English summer ticks away we draw closer to one of mine, and probably over half the population of the country’s favourite time of year… The start of the new football league.
Now those of you who know me won’t be surprised to know that I love football. It is joint top of my passion’s list along with music and film. Like my other passions I love everything about it, I love playing it, watching it, talking deeply about it, studying it, using up general memory space remembering facts about it, but most of all just like my latter passions I love attending it. But unfortunately also like my other passions, there are elements I hate about it and that is the fact just like all other things pure, great and innocent that I love it has been destroyed by big corporations, advertising, investors and an influx of yuppie scumbags.
The first football match I went to was a Chelsea V Wimbledon match at Selhurst Park, a few years before Wimbledon became the victims of franchising in football and probably because of their careless owners, started a trend where the passion that owner once had for their club, could be bought off them with a series of figures with a pound sign in front of them…Anyway the score of the game finished 2-0 to Chelsea thanks to a stunning 25 yard free kick by Gianfranco Zola, and an early second half strike by Mark Hughes I think it was. But one thing that stands out for me was the atmosphere. The true working class of Britain coming together in their thousands to watch their football team, friends, families, people who had travelled for hours to get to the ground. The songs, the taunting of the opposing fans, the general protocol of different chants and when to stand up and sit down, and the delight of seeing tens of thousands of people burst into a supernova of joy when Chelsea scored twice, nothing to this day has matched it.
Although I missed the Chelsea of the 80’s when opposing fans would literally be scared the opposing Chelsea fans, and violence marred it a little bit (until ecstasy whipped it out in the late 80’s, another part of football history I regret missing) I’ve been told that going to football was made less enjoyable after the Hillsborough disaster, when terraces were banned and all league clubs had to have seating areas, I can imagine this is true, but nothing could beat them matches I went to in the 90’s. More recently though however after even Chelsea were eventually bought out by a big money investor, which in hindsight was the most amazing thing ever. 5 days from administration and a Russian billionaire saves us and ploughs money into the club until we win trophies. But with selling your soul in exchange for glory comes an even bigger fate. That thing that I loved, the pure element of football being the ultimate working class game, being able to go every other week to support my team was stopped, when football became a trend for the rich and yuppie. Because of Chelsea’s success and having the misfortune of being in the Kings road area of west London, yuppies come in their droves to watch football, because of this the price became unaffordable and I haven’t been to a game at the Bridge for over a year. The noise from stands has faded, standing throughout games is near enough banned, and swearing and chanting could face you with evection from the ground. These days having to pay over 3 times the original price for a seat, to sit next to a bunch of yuppie families talking amongst themselves, complaining when someone stands up and occasionally getting a tap on the shoulder saying “excuse me, could you mind the language…I have kids with me”. In ways I think it started with the original “Kick racism out of football” campaign, which don’t get me wrong was a good campaign but it did inflict the first rules for the terrace protocol and then acted as a catalyst for other rules. I think that football itself is the main reason for racial harmony in the working classes. It didn’t matter what colour you were, you supported the same team, the fact that your clubs top goal scorer was a black bloke, he was scoring for your team. Although racism was heavily featured in chants on the terraces, I’ve been told that this just simply faded out after societies views changed.
I appear to be digressing a bit…Anyway back in June I worked at Royal Ascot, which I soon found out was a big week long piss up for posh people and yuppies. Possibly their biggest in their calendar. They all dress up, blow loads of money on horses, frolic around and at the end of the day have a sing song of traditional English pop music and songs by the bandstand. Its quite possibly the greatest display of Englishness that I’ve seen, and in a way I really enjoyed it. But one thing I did notice was the amount of “lamb dressed as mutton”. Parties of Tarts and Geezers from Essex, Slags and Blokes from London and Whores and Bastards from up north also coming down to enjoy the party, luckily I was one of the very few people attending that was sober, but this helped me see that we the working class scum were doing to the rich what they had been doing to us, crashing their favriote sporting event. Although seeing people who are all peoples parents frolicking about pissed, committing acts of debauchery and acting like the kids they read about in the Daily Mail a little piece of me leapt for joy as I knew some of these upper people who invaded our terraces and implied new rules to our game, were now having their party crashed by a bunch of louts dressed up.
So as another Premiership season starts after a break of record breaking signings for amounts of money we can only dream of seeing, for players getting a wage that we will never make, playing a standard of football which seems to be losing its manly image, for a club whose owners probably can’t even speak English, I thank Sky Sports for giving me Jeff Stelling and Chris Kamara on a Saturday afternoon, John Motson in the evening and Andy Graye on a Sunday, so I can watch my football from the best seat in the house. I can swear, smoke, drink, stand up when I want, cheer as loud as I want, even scream brutal racial based obscenities to Didier Drogba when he wont get off the floor if I want, because I have admitted defeat to the other lot. Back in the 80’s Ken Bates the Chelsea chairman considered putting in a 12 foot high electric fence to separate away supporters from the Chelsea supporters, and to stop fans getting on the pitch. 20 odd years later Bruce Buck the Chelsea Chairman has introduced “family stands” and suggested that “those fans who wish to make noise please sit….” Although fans of smaller clubs will probably read this and wonder how it must be so shit to be a Chelsea fan when we break records and win trophies every year now, but to me the Club is buying these trophies for their clientele. It’s strange that about 14 years ago I was watching the now defunct Wimbledon play and now I’m thinking of abandoning my team (a sin which is absolutely unforgivable in every way) to support the new AFC Wimbledon of the Conference. Until then I’ll shut up and enjoy my teams’ success.
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Monday 4 May 2009
Venturing into the far right
It’s a wet bank holiday in May so I can think of nothing better to do then to update my blog, surprisingly my last bit of doodling created a bit of success and everyone who I would chat too would usually start the conversation with “I read your blog by the way”. So it’s good to see that some people actually like to have a read of this thing.
I thought today I would talk about the time when I had a look to see what right wing politics was like. It was around about this time last year and I was now legally registered to vote, but of course who would I vote for? I weren’t going to vote for the Labour party, they banned smoking, went to war and bunged on loads taxes on the things I love the most. Didn’t quite fancy Conservative because I hate yuppies and bankers and the Liberal Democrats just seemed like a bit of a protest vote. But if I wanted to make a protest vote why not make a proper one, so at around April of last year I went to a BNP meeting at the local Chelsea supporters bar.
Now before I go on I will tell you about the story behind my interest into getting involved with the most evil people in the world ever. I live in Morden; the last town of south London, if you haven’t been there you’re not missing much. But about 4 or 5 years ago there was a bit of debate over what the local bottle factory should be turned into. It was agreed by the council at that time it was going to be turned into a multiplex cinema, filled with restraints, shops, a bowling alley, arcade and all that jazz. Wicked! Finally something to do around town and something to put Morden on the map, more jobs, more money being pumped in. But at the last minute someone changed their mind and it was then turned into the largest Mosque in all of London at the time, people were obviously quite concerned… Then the flyers started coming through the door. Being quite young at the time I didn’t really care for politics so I never really had much interest in what the BNP did or were I was however pummelled with information on how they was evil and had no right to be a political party, along with a few policies in the manifesto as to why this was. But like I said I didn’t care for politics at the time but I was starting to notice a lot about social identity, especially race. This was probably to do with going to a massive multi-cultured school. A 1200 pupil high school which was split to about 60% black, 30% white and the rest Asian, now I’m not one to care about the colour of someone’s skin as an important factor of their personality, but at school I didn’t have any black or Asian friends, neither did any of my friends, or anyone else I knew at that school, same with the Asian kids also. The playground would pretty much be segregated, us white kids would play football, why the others would play basketball. We would however have the odd black’s v white’s football match which would usually end in violence. This was my first experience with racial tension and I can’t say I really learnt much from it, but it did sort of give me an idea of what the BNP were trying to get at, although I didn’t know exactly what their goals were.
A few years passed, then there was a terrorist attack and more flyers came through the door, then my neighbour (an open member of the BNP) lent me a book by controversial American politician and “racial realist” David Duke called “My Awakening”. He told me that you couldn’t buy the book in England due to its content and that no matter how hard some parts may be to read, I must read it all. The fact that it was banned in the UK had already sold me, even though it was nearly a thousand pages long. I didn’t know who David Duke was nor had I even heard of what he done or what he represented, but despite what your view may be he wrote a damn good book. He explains in great detail about the differences in race, referencing over 200 different scientific experiments and studies, with an index of forward reading, he then explained all his political views of which some I quite agreed with, the main one being full racial equality which was basically no more forced integration, no more race laws, no more forced employments for minorities. This always seemed to make sense to me, surely people shouldn’t be forced to integrate and be told to get along they should just do it. Surely the only way to stop actual racism is to ignore the fact that we are different by the colour of our skins and accept that we are human beings, and surley its stupid that someone should be forced to employ someone from a minority just because the law states they should, people should be employed by their skill and not by their race.
Needless to say the first 250 pages of the book were incredibly interesting; the second part however was a bit long winded and hard. It was all basically anti Semitic studies about the holocaust and the Jewish influence on the western world, which has never really interested me anyway as its too much of an American subject, and as for the holocaust even if it is exaggerated, people still died and that’s all that matters really. The 3rd part of the book was a bit of a biography on how he rose to be a senator and all that American political Jazz, and how at one point he was the Grand Wizard of the Knights of the KKK, which was a bit of a modernisation of the old Klan. Still basically just as racist, but with less lynching’s, and he did eventually change the white robes to suits, but I digress.
I can’t explain every aspect of the book because it is bloody long and there is a lot in there, some of which I can’t really remember. But reading that book did open me up to another view, some of which made a lot of sense, some I didn’t agree with. But from then on I started to give the right a bit of a chance. The BNP however was a peaceful party, and I’ve always said whether you’re an Islamic extremist or a right wing politician you have the right to say whatever you like, which is why I couldn’t understand that when Abu Hamser was at large he was getting away with inciting actual killings on the streets of London and Nick Griffin was being arrest for a bit of a rant in a pub.
Over the months after reading the book, I was given more information on what the BNP did and some of their policies, which did again open me up to how the media perceive them. Many of their policies would be blown out of proportion, I remember the Sun reporting that the BNP believed that EVERYONE in Britain should have the right to own a gun, when really the actual policy was for people who had served in the army for over 25 years could have the right to own a gun. The main one is that the BNP would deport everyone who wasn’t white and British from the country. There isn’t actually anything like that written in the manifesto last time I checked, but even if it was surely that would expensive and impossible and of no benefit to anyone. There is however a policy that states only residents of the common wealth could immigrate to Britain and that the immigration gates should be closed.
Then one week last April I was invited to go to a meeting, so I went. The meeting as you can imagine was filled with predominately white, working class males, very similar clientele to what would usually occupy the pub on a match day. I don’t remember much of what was said in the meeting, but I must confess I did get a sense of racism in the crowd, but only from a minority of people, the rest of the people I spoke to were normal blokes that I probably usually talk to when the football was on, this media perception of the BNP being filled with skin head yobs looking to go on a bit of a paki bash was mostly bollocks. But I secretly already knew that. But it is the minority that did let it down for the majority and I left not being converted as a BNP member. I was still undecided on my political views, mainly due to one of their policies being that if you are not white you can not become a member of the party because you are not “indigenous” which is bollocks because I have black mates who are more British then myself. I also didn’t really like Nick Griffin; he’s not a great speaker and has a smug sense of greatness over everyone else that seemed to be there, and I got the impression that he seemed to be holding the party back from being an ideal nationalist socialist party, and his second in command Mark Collet has been proved a prick by both a junkie Russell Brand and a shit Channel 4 documentary which just made him look like a lost, gay, Nazi looking for someone to accept him in life. I am however very fond of British tradition and have no problem at all admitting to being a nationalist, and I think that even though at the moment the BNP is failing horribly at being a believable political party I do see this potential of it restoring those little things I love about Britain. Working classes taking refuge in pubs and free houses, old people smoking roll ups, the language of the market stool trader, football on a Saturday afternoon, greasy spoon café’s, binge drinking, secret love of art and culture, sex, drugs and on the dull lifestyle and all those other little pleasantries that I love about this country.
I have also had a few run ins with people from militant left wing organisations such as “searchlight” an organisation that attacks BNP meetings and in some cases their members as well. I have met some people from the organisation that actually take pride in the fact that they went to prison for attacking what could of well been a peaceful family man who just happened to be a member.
I can understand why people are so strongly against the party and I can understand why people would think it was racist and fascist and all that palaver but some of these people haven’t properly had a look in and met the people that follow it. There’s always going to be a minority that ruin it for everyone else but I think there is a racist shadow that follows the party and at the moment I wouldn’t vote for them, but with a bit of a makeover and a few policy changes I cant see any reason why they wouldn’t be seen as a proper working class party, but I think for now I’ll just stick to my guns and wait for a new party that hasn’t been invented yet that will tend to my needs without the risk of being battered by a bunch lefty fanatics.
I thought today I would talk about the time when I had a look to see what right wing politics was like. It was around about this time last year and I was now legally registered to vote, but of course who would I vote for? I weren’t going to vote for the Labour party, they banned smoking, went to war and bunged on loads taxes on the things I love the most. Didn’t quite fancy Conservative because I hate yuppies and bankers and the Liberal Democrats just seemed like a bit of a protest vote. But if I wanted to make a protest vote why not make a proper one, so at around April of last year I went to a BNP meeting at the local Chelsea supporters bar.
Now before I go on I will tell you about the story behind my interest into getting involved with the most evil people in the world ever. I live in Morden; the last town of south London, if you haven’t been there you’re not missing much. But about 4 or 5 years ago there was a bit of debate over what the local bottle factory should be turned into. It was agreed by the council at that time it was going to be turned into a multiplex cinema, filled with restraints, shops, a bowling alley, arcade and all that jazz. Wicked! Finally something to do around town and something to put Morden on the map, more jobs, more money being pumped in. But at the last minute someone changed their mind and it was then turned into the largest Mosque in all of London at the time, people were obviously quite concerned… Then the flyers started coming through the door. Being quite young at the time I didn’t really care for politics so I never really had much interest in what the BNP did or were I was however pummelled with information on how they was evil and had no right to be a political party, along with a few policies in the manifesto as to why this was. But like I said I didn’t care for politics at the time but I was starting to notice a lot about social identity, especially race. This was probably to do with going to a massive multi-cultured school. A 1200 pupil high school which was split to about 60% black, 30% white and the rest Asian, now I’m not one to care about the colour of someone’s skin as an important factor of their personality, but at school I didn’t have any black or Asian friends, neither did any of my friends, or anyone else I knew at that school, same with the Asian kids also. The playground would pretty much be segregated, us white kids would play football, why the others would play basketball. We would however have the odd black’s v white’s football match which would usually end in violence. This was my first experience with racial tension and I can’t say I really learnt much from it, but it did sort of give me an idea of what the BNP were trying to get at, although I didn’t know exactly what their goals were.
A few years passed, then there was a terrorist attack and more flyers came through the door, then my neighbour (an open member of the BNP) lent me a book by controversial American politician and “racial realist” David Duke called “My Awakening”. He told me that you couldn’t buy the book in England due to its content and that no matter how hard some parts may be to read, I must read it all. The fact that it was banned in the UK had already sold me, even though it was nearly a thousand pages long. I didn’t know who David Duke was nor had I even heard of what he done or what he represented, but despite what your view may be he wrote a damn good book. He explains in great detail about the differences in race, referencing over 200 different scientific experiments and studies, with an index of forward reading, he then explained all his political views of which some I quite agreed with, the main one being full racial equality which was basically no more forced integration, no more race laws, no more forced employments for minorities. This always seemed to make sense to me, surely people shouldn’t be forced to integrate and be told to get along they should just do it. Surely the only way to stop actual racism is to ignore the fact that we are different by the colour of our skins and accept that we are human beings, and surley its stupid that someone should be forced to employ someone from a minority just because the law states they should, people should be employed by their skill and not by their race.
Needless to say the first 250 pages of the book were incredibly interesting; the second part however was a bit long winded and hard. It was all basically anti Semitic studies about the holocaust and the Jewish influence on the western world, which has never really interested me anyway as its too much of an American subject, and as for the holocaust even if it is exaggerated, people still died and that’s all that matters really. The 3rd part of the book was a bit of a biography on how he rose to be a senator and all that American political Jazz, and how at one point he was the Grand Wizard of the Knights of the KKK, which was a bit of a modernisation of the old Klan. Still basically just as racist, but with less lynching’s, and he did eventually change the white robes to suits, but I digress.
I can’t explain every aspect of the book because it is bloody long and there is a lot in there, some of which I can’t really remember. But reading that book did open me up to another view, some of which made a lot of sense, some I didn’t agree with. But from then on I started to give the right a bit of a chance. The BNP however was a peaceful party, and I’ve always said whether you’re an Islamic extremist or a right wing politician you have the right to say whatever you like, which is why I couldn’t understand that when Abu Hamser was at large he was getting away with inciting actual killings on the streets of London and Nick Griffin was being arrest for a bit of a rant in a pub.
Over the months after reading the book, I was given more information on what the BNP did and some of their policies, which did again open me up to how the media perceive them. Many of their policies would be blown out of proportion, I remember the Sun reporting that the BNP believed that EVERYONE in Britain should have the right to own a gun, when really the actual policy was for people who had served in the army for over 25 years could have the right to own a gun. The main one is that the BNP would deport everyone who wasn’t white and British from the country. There isn’t actually anything like that written in the manifesto last time I checked, but even if it was surely that would expensive and impossible and of no benefit to anyone. There is however a policy that states only residents of the common wealth could immigrate to Britain and that the immigration gates should be closed.
Then one week last April I was invited to go to a meeting, so I went. The meeting as you can imagine was filled with predominately white, working class males, very similar clientele to what would usually occupy the pub on a match day. I don’t remember much of what was said in the meeting, but I must confess I did get a sense of racism in the crowd, but only from a minority of people, the rest of the people I spoke to were normal blokes that I probably usually talk to when the football was on, this media perception of the BNP being filled with skin head yobs looking to go on a bit of a paki bash was mostly bollocks. But I secretly already knew that. But it is the minority that did let it down for the majority and I left not being converted as a BNP member. I was still undecided on my political views, mainly due to one of their policies being that if you are not white you can not become a member of the party because you are not “indigenous” which is bollocks because I have black mates who are more British then myself. I also didn’t really like Nick Griffin; he’s not a great speaker and has a smug sense of greatness over everyone else that seemed to be there, and I got the impression that he seemed to be holding the party back from being an ideal nationalist socialist party, and his second in command Mark Collet has been proved a prick by both a junkie Russell Brand and a shit Channel 4 documentary which just made him look like a lost, gay, Nazi looking for someone to accept him in life. I am however very fond of British tradition and have no problem at all admitting to being a nationalist, and I think that even though at the moment the BNP is failing horribly at being a believable political party I do see this potential of it restoring those little things I love about Britain. Working classes taking refuge in pubs and free houses, old people smoking roll ups, the language of the market stool trader, football on a Saturday afternoon, greasy spoon café’s, binge drinking, secret love of art and culture, sex, drugs and on the dull lifestyle and all those other little pleasantries that I love about this country.
I have also had a few run ins with people from militant left wing organisations such as “searchlight” an organisation that attacks BNP meetings and in some cases their members as well. I have met some people from the organisation that actually take pride in the fact that they went to prison for attacking what could of well been a peaceful family man who just happened to be a member.
I can understand why people are so strongly against the party and I can understand why people would think it was racist and fascist and all that palaver but some of these people haven’t properly had a look in and met the people that follow it. There’s always going to be a minority that ruin it for everyone else but I think there is a racist shadow that follows the party and at the moment I wouldn’t vote for them, but with a bit of a makeover and a few policy changes I cant see any reason why they wouldn’t be seen as a proper working class party, but I think for now I’ll just stick to my guns and wait for a new party that hasn’t been invented yet that will tend to my needs without the risk of being battered by a bunch lefty fanatics.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Atheist's
Recently I have noticed an incredible new support for a religion that I never really noticed had such fanatic supporters in the past, the irony of this new faith is that it isn’t a religion at all it’s atheism, or as I like to call it the belief in total coincidence.
Now I myself was born and raised a Catholic, and to this day I still openly admit a belief in a higher power. Recently when I have told people this I get what I like the call “the Atheist interrogation” which usually consists of the following “WHAT!” “WHY!” “HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID!” and “YOU DO REALISE HOW RIDICULOUSE THAT IS!?” This vicious, verbal assault of questions and insults is usually continued by a series of difficult questions on my faith, why I need it, what good it does and if it does any good why I need a religion to use that good. Now I may be a Catholic and a believer in God and yes I do know a little bit about the history of the religion and could probably do good on the trivial side of it, but I’m not cut out to answer complex questions on a subject that I have more important things to worry about then study deep into, It’s almost like approaching every black person you meet and expecting them to give reasons to why crime and poverty is so big in the black community. I don’t have typical Catholic views on homosexuality, but then again can you honestly tell me that there are no homophobic atheists, and I do believe in Evolution, however I see it as a miracle and not a genius theory, I do however think abortion is just code for murder and there was a bloke called Jesus and what he did actually happened.
Another thing I have started to notice is the amount of people I have noticed starting to read the Atheist Bible or “The God Delusion” which is written by the Atheist version of Jesus, Richard Dawkins. I haven’t read the book, I don’t know anything about Richard Dawkins, I have been peer pressured into reading the book by my militant friends but I never will, mainly because I have no interest in what he has to say, even if he did raise some full proof points as to why I should abandon my own, and my families beliefs and joins his own religion of the belief of no belief. It’s almost like an Arsenal fan taking me to one side and trying to deprogram me from becoming a Chelsea fan by forcing me to read a book on their history and points as to why there better then Chelsea. The fact that they have more silverware, a bigger support, better quality of youth players and long history of legendary strikers and victories doesn’t interest me in the slightest, I was born and raised a Chelsea fan and I will die with them too, just like I will with Catholicism.
What does annoy me about these militants is the irony behind some of their reasons to not believe. Some say its because of the way other religious people have shoved their beliefs down their throat, they tend to say this to me whilst giving me the interrogation and quoting their favourite Einstein passage. Other common arguments include the fact that without religion there would be no war… Now I don’t know if its just me but I cant think of a war with British involvement from the past 100 years that had anything to do with religion, from what I can gather both trips to Iraq have been about restoring Democracy and stealing Oil (Greed and Pride, one thing religion speaks out against) the Falkland conflict again was about taking back land and of course both World War’s which I think had very little to do with religion at all. Now there may be some religious connotations I haven’t quite caught on to but that’s what I can gather from where I’m standing.
Now as much as I respect peoples rights to believe whatever they like and I can understand why some people would choose not to believe for some good reasons, it’s the fact that Atheism itself has become a religion in the sense that these people actually take it upon themselves to go to any lengths to convince themselves there is no God. Surely not believing should be as easy as admitting it and not having to read a book about it or shouting at everyone who did believe in a higher power. I know there are people out there who just don’t believe, I know because some of my dearest friends are like that. They don’t necessarily believe in God and they don’t want to label themselves an Atheist, they just are indifferent to both causes, which is how I feel Atheism should be, a more carefree attitude towards life, knowing that no matter what you do you won’t be judged for it when you die and taking comfort in the new discoveries of science, not creating a new faith of non belief to try and convert everyone who doesn’t share what you think. The reason I don’t follow it is because I take comfort in thinking that all the beauty, and complex nature of the earth and the universe is so perfect that not one person could possible understand every element of it. The very fact that this is a reality is my very own reason for a belief in God. Not that everything we see and everything we do and everything that has happened is all because of a massive coincidence and that we are all living a massive lie. Fair do’s you may not feel the same way but don’t be such a dick about it.
Now I myself was born and raised a Catholic, and to this day I still openly admit a belief in a higher power. Recently when I have told people this I get what I like the call “the Atheist interrogation” which usually consists of the following “WHAT!” “WHY!” “HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID!” and “YOU DO REALISE HOW RIDICULOUSE THAT IS!?” This vicious, verbal assault of questions and insults is usually continued by a series of difficult questions on my faith, why I need it, what good it does and if it does any good why I need a religion to use that good. Now I may be a Catholic and a believer in God and yes I do know a little bit about the history of the religion and could probably do good on the trivial side of it, but I’m not cut out to answer complex questions on a subject that I have more important things to worry about then study deep into, It’s almost like approaching every black person you meet and expecting them to give reasons to why crime and poverty is so big in the black community. I don’t have typical Catholic views on homosexuality, but then again can you honestly tell me that there are no homophobic atheists, and I do believe in Evolution, however I see it as a miracle and not a genius theory, I do however think abortion is just code for murder and there was a bloke called Jesus and what he did actually happened.
Another thing I have started to notice is the amount of people I have noticed starting to read the Atheist Bible or “The God Delusion” which is written by the Atheist version of Jesus, Richard Dawkins. I haven’t read the book, I don’t know anything about Richard Dawkins, I have been peer pressured into reading the book by my militant friends but I never will, mainly because I have no interest in what he has to say, even if he did raise some full proof points as to why I should abandon my own, and my families beliefs and joins his own religion of the belief of no belief. It’s almost like an Arsenal fan taking me to one side and trying to deprogram me from becoming a Chelsea fan by forcing me to read a book on their history and points as to why there better then Chelsea. The fact that they have more silverware, a bigger support, better quality of youth players and long history of legendary strikers and victories doesn’t interest me in the slightest, I was born and raised a Chelsea fan and I will die with them too, just like I will with Catholicism.
What does annoy me about these militants is the irony behind some of their reasons to not believe. Some say its because of the way other religious people have shoved their beliefs down their throat, they tend to say this to me whilst giving me the interrogation and quoting their favourite Einstein passage. Other common arguments include the fact that without religion there would be no war… Now I don’t know if its just me but I cant think of a war with British involvement from the past 100 years that had anything to do with religion, from what I can gather both trips to Iraq have been about restoring Democracy and stealing Oil (Greed and Pride, one thing religion speaks out against) the Falkland conflict again was about taking back land and of course both World War’s which I think had very little to do with religion at all. Now there may be some religious connotations I haven’t quite caught on to but that’s what I can gather from where I’m standing.
Now as much as I respect peoples rights to believe whatever they like and I can understand why some people would choose not to believe for some good reasons, it’s the fact that Atheism itself has become a religion in the sense that these people actually take it upon themselves to go to any lengths to convince themselves there is no God. Surely not believing should be as easy as admitting it and not having to read a book about it or shouting at everyone who did believe in a higher power. I know there are people out there who just don’t believe, I know because some of my dearest friends are like that. They don’t necessarily believe in God and they don’t want to label themselves an Atheist, they just are indifferent to both causes, which is how I feel Atheism should be, a more carefree attitude towards life, knowing that no matter what you do you won’t be judged for it when you die and taking comfort in the new discoveries of science, not creating a new faith of non belief to try and convert everyone who doesn’t share what you think. The reason I don’t follow it is because I take comfort in thinking that all the beauty, and complex nature of the earth and the universe is so perfect that not one person could possible understand every element of it. The very fact that this is a reality is my very own reason for a belief in God. Not that everything we see and everything we do and everything that has happened is all because of a massive coincidence and that we are all living a massive lie. Fair do’s you may not feel the same way but don’t be such a dick about it.
Thursday 5 March 2009
Rugby hating
Throughout my living memory I have always put people that I meet into categories of trust and personality. A bit like giving a certain type of people a mental Nazi style badge, but not as… horrible. My own personal worst enemies are what I like to call “Rugby types”. Now those of you know me will know that of all the sports I detest the most is rugby, not just because of the homoerotic “masculinity” that’s involved when playing it, nor the fact players have to stop every 30 seconds so they can stick their heads in-between each others arses and try and get the egg shaped ball. But the real reason behind my hatred of rugby is not just the fact that any sport the Welsh and Scottish can be good at isn’t a real sport, but it’s the type of people that follow it. Now I think you’re all aware of the types, mainly upper working to middle class white men, who scoff at football because of its “thuggish” and “cowardly” style of play, but when attending a game, will tell you to either sit down or stop swearing. The type of people who’ll quite happily call a member of the BNP a racist, but will cross the road when ever a group of black youths are walking towards them. The type of people who judge people on whether they’ve been to university or not, and who go travelling during their gap year without worrying about expense. The type of people who drink ale, and the type of people who think that a smoking ban is a good idea. They are the type of people that grass you up for drugs in a club, The type of people who don’t bother moving away from home because “mummy and daddy” pay for everything they want, and the type of people that will call you out for a fight then call the police once you’ve kicked their head in. Basically they are the real scum bags, the real downfall of Britain and the real people with noncey skeletons in their cupboards. I’ve narrowed down the start of this hatred to when I was at school. It was a Jesuit ran Catholic, all blokes’ school and its main sport was of course rugby. Now at this particular school if you weren’t particularly academic or didn’t care for school at all (me) you was fucked, and thrown into the classes with the rest of the scum of south London who didn’t care to learn. But if you was in the rugby team, that was your get out of jail free card and your ticket to success at life. This was also not helped by my incredible laziness towards playing sport and having a bunch of Welsh teacher’s as well. I also noticed that every lad in the rugby team was everyone that I hated the most, even though at school I hated pretty much everyone and it is the reason behind my racism and hatred in main stream humanity. I also hate the ship jumpers that all of a sudden became rugby fans when England won the rugby world cup. I remember where I was when that happened. I was on my couch watching Soccer AM which at the time was at its absolute prime. I was turning over during add breaks to see how England was getting on, obviously no matter what sport it is, as long as the Aussie’s lose it’s a good result. I remember I turned over during one break and Johnny Wilkinson kicked the “ball” through the 2 sticks and got the 2 or 3 points or whatever it is you get for kicking it over the H. I simply turned to my dad and said “England have won the world cup” he replied with “o really” then I turned it straight back again. The next day to my surprise it was on the front page of every newspaper and all my mates were talking about it. Now I’m not asking for the sport of rugby to be banished and for all it followers to be sent to camps and experimented on and gassed…although I would have no objection to it. Just for these people to be singled out for the imbeciles that they are, and for their stupid sport. Through my short journey through life I have learnt to avoid these people but also not tar everyone with the same brush, I have met some quality yuppies and posh people. Mainly at Glastonbury and through places where I’ve worked, but I’ve found recently that when faced with either a life of an upper class lifestyle of having everything I could possible want and be accepted by society…. or a lifestyle of scraping pennies together to go out, achieving great sense of achievements of getting extremely wasted, annoying suited people and causing general havoc then I’d rather the latter really.
Thursday 26 February 2009
2 good weekends and a horrible relapse.
Hello again sorry for my absence and neglect but I’ve been busy doing nothing. Well that isn’t entirely true I’ve had a few adventures and attended one or two very cool parties, I also admit to a bit of relapse of my marathon vow but for good reason…or at least I like to keep telling myself that.
Anyways since I last spoke to you I’ve been up to quite a bit. I made a return to Bangface which was pretty cool. It was one of the first nights there in a while where I hadn’t seen most of the line up: Drumcorps, Hecate, Krome & Thyme, and my absolute favourite Bong-Ra, and may I just say what a lovely amount of sheer violence and madness there was. Mosh pits all night, careless people leaving there beers for me to finish off, I was even at one point on the stage having a dance, kissing Bong-Ra and doing a bit of crowd surfing. There was even a ketted out bird who I managed to pull. It was a Bangface to remember and since it was also Sarah’s birthday we was guaranteed an after party also. Which itself was not to disappoint. It was a bit like a handful of Bangface’s finest people having a bit of a party, and since Bangface is the place where super friendly people, who know how to party, go to have fun, it was guaranteed to be an absolute winner. I don’t think I stopped laughing the whole time I was there. I did however have a bit of a pro-plus binge and start to be a bit moody and restless but I did manage to get a couple of hours of shut eye. I did however have a bit of a relapse as there was liquid going around and it was free. At first I wasn’t having the best of times. I hadn’t slept properly and was being really anti-social, I attempted at some kip with Lauren but just ended up being entertained by Sarah’s fantastically, trippy bedroom. I then had the greatest visual of my life, the kind where I’d love to have some artistic talent so I could draw it later. Although describing it won’t give it any justice just try and imagine an old school style, bald clown, doing a handstand on a skull, resting apples on his feet and spitting fire into my face with a torch. I pissed myself laughing for a few minutes, then decided to go downstairs and have a bit of a chat with everyone there. Looking back on it I’m really glad I did, as I had a right ol’ laugh with everyone there. By Sunday morning I concluded that was probably one of my best weekends in a long while.
After that fantastic debauched weekend it was half term, and just like every single half term before that where I haven’t had a job, it was a complete waster of time and I got nothing done, except get stoned, play football manager, argue with a bank and watch porn. However it was the weekend again that was to prevail overall. I went to Hidden for Terradisco. A night where several squat party sound systems got together to play a lovely bit of jungle, techno, breakcore and drum and bass, there was also some pretentious “industrial noise” as well but I kept well clear of that. It was pretty good, the highlight of the night was basically Remarc who played a cracking jungle set filled with classics, the fact it was pumping out of the mighty Disjunkt soundsytem was an added bonus. I did the entire night completely sober for once, until that was Pete invited me back to his flat for a bit of an after party, included in the party was Rich and Lee. I think now is a good time to point out that of all the wreckhead’s I have met, Lee, Rich and Pete are probably all in the top five, if not the top 3. So as you can imagine this was going to be my ultimate test. I passed out briefly but I awoke to find that their dealer had turned up and they had just shoved some DXM (Cracker Jack) under my nose. I didn’t see the point of turning back after that so I continued to take whatever they gave me, except however for the Mandy they had going around. I did however get to a chance to smoke DMT. Which to those of you who don’t know, is an incredibly strong hallucinogenic. Imagine all the intensity of a 12 hour acid trip condensed into about 10-15 minutes of wacky, realistic visuals and intensely bright colours. I didn’t get much of a hit out of what was left from the pipe but it did make the picture of the LEGO man on Pete’s wall walk out of the canvas and have a stroll about the room, another notable feature was his bathroom, which was completely white except for what seemed to be an extremely red shower curtain, similar to that of the little girls coat in Schindler’s list.
Despite the 2 horrible relapses over that week, I feel that my marathon training seems to be going pretty well. It is however just over 2 weeks away now, but I do have one slight problem with my knee, over the past few weeks it has been giving me a bit of jip and has only got worse, I should really take it easy a bit but I don’t want to lose my fitness levels, hopefully ill run it out and ill be fine. I will be absolutely devastated if I was to get injured this far into the game.
This weekend has all the making to be a classic, Braindrop on Friday and a possible trip to Bristol on the Saturday for a Wrong Music event; however it could all fall through due the money which I’ve been waiting for a while now probably wont clear and I may have a bit of work at the Carling Cup final on the Sunday but with all my dallying could of lost that as well. Will I make it? Tune in next week to find out.
Whilst on the subject of the birthplace of Skins, most of my readers will know that I think the programme is shit and I haven’t watched the last few series, although just before I thought I should update this blog I watched the most recent episode and I have to say I’m a bit angry that no one informed me that there is a lesbian storyline involving 2 fit jailbait tarts, one is half of two jailbait twins. Even if it is just for the eye candy and possible a few lesbian sex scenes, that could be tossing material and not for the poor story lines, acting, characters and unrealistic situations I may very well be watching a few more from this series. Even Doogle from Father Ted is in it so it can’t be all bad.
Well I think that’s about it really. Like I said before have a read next week to see how my weekend goes, could be a classic, could be an absolute disaster.
Anyway goodbye, god bless and thanks for having a glance.
Anyways since I last spoke to you I’ve been up to quite a bit. I made a return to Bangface which was pretty cool. It was one of the first nights there in a while where I hadn’t seen most of the line up: Drumcorps, Hecate, Krome & Thyme, and my absolute favourite Bong-Ra, and may I just say what a lovely amount of sheer violence and madness there was. Mosh pits all night, careless people leaving there beers for me to finish off, I was even at one point on the stage having a dance, kissing Bong-Ra and doing a bit of crowd surfing. There was even a ketted out bird who I managed to pull. It was a Bangface to remember and since it was also Sarah’s birthday we was guaranteed an after party also. Which itself was not to disappoint. It was a bit like a handful of Bangface’s finest people having a bit of a party, and since Bangface is the place where super friendly people, who know how to party, go to have fun, it was guaranteed to be an absolute winner. I don’t think I stopped laughing the whole time I was there. I did however have a bit of a pro-plus binge and start to be a bit moody and restless but I did manage to get a couple of hours of shut eye. I did however have a bit of a relapse as there was liquid going around and it was free. At first I wasn’t having the best of times. I hadn’t slept properly and was being really anti-social, I attempted at some kip with Lauren but just ended up being entertained by Sarah’s fantastically, trippy bedroom. I then had the greatest visual of my life, the kind where I’d love to have some artistic talent so I could draw it later. Although describing it won’t give it any justice just try and imagine an old school style, bald clown, doing a handstand on a skull, resting apples on his feet and spitting fire into my face with a torch. I pissed myself laughing for a few minutes, then decided to go downstairs and have a bit of a chat with everyone there. Looking back on it I’m really glad I did, as I had a right ol’ laugh with everyone there. By Sunday morning I concluded that was probably one of my best weekends in a long while.
After that fantastic debauched weekend it was half term, and just like every single half term before that where I haven’t had a job, it was a complete waster of time and I got nothing done, except get stoned, play football manager, argue with a bank and watch porn. However it was the weekend again that was to prevail overall. I went to Hidden for Terradisco. A night where several squat party sound systems got together to play a lovely bit of jungle, techno, breakcore and drum and bass, there was also some pretentious “industrial noise” as well but I kept well clear of that. It was pretty good, the highlight of the night was basically Remarc who played a cracking jungle set filled with classics, the fact it was pumping out of the mighty Disjunkt soundsytem was an added bonus. I did the entire night completely sober for once, until that was Pete invited me back to his flat for a bit of an after party, included in the party was Rich and Lee. I think now is a good time to point out that of all the wreckhead’s I have met, Lee, Rich and Pete are probably all in the top five, if not the top 3. So as you can imagine this was going to be my ultimate test. I passed out briefly but I awoke to find that their dealer had turned up and they had just shoved some DXM (Cracker Jack) under my nose. I didn’t see the point of turning back after that so I continued to take whatever they gave me, except however for the Mandy they had going around. I did however get to a chance to smoke DMT. Which to those of you who don’t know, is an incredibly strong hallucinogenic. Imagine all the intensity of a 12 hour acid trip condensed into about 10-15 minutes of wacky, realistic visuals and intensely bright colours. I didn’t get much of a hit out of what was left from the pipe but it did make the picture of the LEGO man on Pete’s wall walk out of the canvas and have a stroll about the room, another notable feature was his bathroom, which was completely white except for what seemed to be an extremely red shower curtain, similar to that of the little girls coat in Schindler’s list.
Despite the 2 horrible relapses over that week, I feel that my marathon training seems to be going pretty well. It is however just over 2 weeks away now, but I do have one slight problem with my knee, over the past few weeks it has been giving me a bit of jip and has only got worse, I should really take it easy a bit but I don’t want to lose my fitness levels, hopefully ill run it out and ill be fine. I will be absolutely devastated if I was to get injured this far into the game.
This weekend has all the making to be a classic, Braindrop on Friday and a possible trip to Bristol on the Saturday for a Wrong Music event; however it could all fall through due the money which I’ve been waiting for a while now probably wont clear and I may have a bit of work at the Carling Cup final on the Sunday but with all my dallying could of lost that as well. Will I make it? Tune in next week to find out.
Whilst on the subject of the birthplace of Skins, most of my readers will know that I think the programme is shit and I haven’t watched the last few series, although just before I thought I should update this blog I watched the most recent episode and I have to say I’m a bit angry that no one informed me that there is a lesbian storyline involving 2 fit jailbait tarts, one is half of two jailbait twins. Even if it is just for the eye candy and possible a few lesbian sex scenes, that could be tossing material and not for the poor story lines, acting, characters and unrealistic situations I may very well be watching a few more from this series. Even Doogle from Father Ted is in it so it can’t be all bad.
Well I think that’s about it really. Like I said before have a read next week to see how my weekend goes, could be a classic, could be an absolute disaster.
Anyway goodbye, god bless and thanks for having a glance.
Monday 9 February 2009
Day raving and the BAFTA's
Hello again, thanks for those who may have read my last entry. I can understand that many of you may have found it to be tedious, drivel which it probably was, but then again I never said these were going to be exciting, although I hope in my next piece of thought on paper you get something out of it.
Last week was a mix of bollocks and good shit. The bollocks being snowed in for too long and just sitting down not doing anything, although I did read A Clockwork Orange (which by the way is bloody brilliant). I am now also temping as a nanny for a family in Kensington. I got the job by applying online, got an interview and now looking back on it must have been the only applicant they bothered to interview, because not only do I lack anything more then 3 months of experience in childcare, I also have a previous record for being a rascal. But the family are pretty safe and the kids aren’t little terrors, and I pretty much get to do what I do at home but get paid 8 pound an hour to do it, and there’s kids there to keep me entertained as well so it’s all good.
This weekend was pretty safe…On Friday me and Rosa attempted to go to the Rhythm Factory but we indulged in too much smoke and drink before hand and never got through the front door of the club, and in the end I ended up in their living room, making some lovely drunken conversation with Ian. The next day however we went to the Every1Sounds after party/day rave, which I have to say, was a cracking experience. Not only was it weird being all refreshed and sober for an every1sounds do, but also weird seeing all the familiar faces of parties in a club environment. The techno was thumping as usual, and although there was a bit of psy-trance going on, the tunes in general were all on top form. After finishing off a cracking Chris Liberator set, me and Rosa set off to pick up some more ammunition in the form of puff. The rest of my weekend was sat in their flat smoking spiffs and watching some shit TV with the odd little rant by either of us every now and then. It was all proper safe as usual and it was good to hang out with them lot again.
Now its time for a little boring rant of the week, on Sunday I watched the BAFTA awards, where as I expected Slumdog Millionaire took nearly everything, which is cool because it’s one of the best films I’ve seen in a while, and is directed by one of Britain’s most awesome directors, who I wish the very best of success at the up and coming Oscars. However the only shock of the night had to be Noel Clarke winning the rising star award, also in the running was Toby Kebbell (who both my vote and money was on).
Now those of you who know Noel Clarke will know that he wrote and starred in Kidulthood and directed, starred and wrote Adulthood. Both films are bloody awful depictions of youth life in London. Someone gets mugged every 5 minutes, the acting is as poor as a primary school nativity play, there is constant continuity and the film is filled with stereotyped characters, that you would move country to avoid if they were to actually exist. Toby Kebbell on the other hand started his career with a moving and very convincing role in one of the best British thrillers of our generation: Dead Man’s Shoes. He then went on to play Joy Divisions manager in Control and was the Rockstar in the latest Guy Ritchie film, Rock N’ Rolla. Which I haven’t seen yet. It was explained to me that no one would of heard for Kebbell and that’s why no one would vote for him, which is what made me feel the award which has made James Mcavoy a bit of a soon to be acting great, just a bit of a farse. Where as there was very little to gain from the Kidult and Adulthood films, all Noel Clarke can account for is a few appearances in Doctor Who and a full series of Auf Wiedersain Pet. Which I think you’d agree is a fairly average CV for any Actor/filmmaker. I do feel for Toby Kebbell because that award would of made people finally take notice of such a young and talented actor who has all the promise Euwan Mcregor had when he first went running down that street in Trainspotting. It feels like a great injustice for British cinema. However I did have to vote for Noel, because he came into our college once to give a talk and he said that if we voted for him he would come in again and let us hold his award, so I suppose every cloud does have a silver lining.
Not too much else I can think of at the moment that is bothering me, although next weekend looks to be a pretty one, so I will write down all gory details in this here blog. Be good to each other and God bless.
Last week was a mix of bollocks and good shit. The bollocks being snowed in for too long and just sitting down not doing anything, although I did read A Clockwork Orange (which by the way is bloody brilliant). I am now also temping as a nanny for a family in Kensington. I got the job by applying online, got an interview and now looking back on it must have been the only applicant they bothered to interview, because not only do I lack anything more then 3 months of experience in childcare, I also have a previous record for being a rascal. But the family are pretty safe and the kids aren’t little terrors, and I pretty much get to do what I do at home but get paid 8 pound an hour to do it, and there’s kids there to keep me entertained as well so it’s all good.
This weekend was pretty safe…On Friday me and Rosa attempted to go to the Rhythm Factory but we indulged in too much smoke and drink before hand and never got through the front door of the club, and in the end I ended up in their living room, making some lovely drunken conversation with Ian. The next day however we went to the Every1Sounds after party/day rave, which I have to say, was a cracking experience. Not only was it weird being all refreshed and sober for an every1sounds do, but also weird seeing all the familiar faces of parties in a club environment. The techno was thumping as usual, and although there was a bit of psy-trance going on, the tunes in general were all on top form. After finishing off a cracking Chris Liberator set, me and Rosa set off to pick up some more ammunition in the form of puff. The rest of my weekend was sat in their flat smoking spiffs and watching some shit TV with the odd little rant by either of us every now and then. It was all proper safe as usual and it was good to hang out with them lot again.
Now its time for a little boring rant of the week, on Sunday I watched the BAFTA awards, where as I expected Slumdog Millionaire took nearly everything, which is cool because it’s one of the best films I’ve seen in a while, and is directed by one of Britain’s most awesome directors, who I wish the very best of success at the up and coming Oscars. However the only shock of the night had to be Noel Clarke winning the rising star award, also in the running was Toby Kebbell (who both my vote and money was on).
Now those of you who know Noel Clarke will know that he wrote and starred in Kidulthood and directed, starred and wrote Adulthood. Both films are bloody awful depictions of youth life in London. Someone gets mugged every 5 minutes, the acting is as poor as a primary school nativity play, there is constant continuity and the film is filled with stereotyped characters, that you would move country to avoid if they were to actually exist. Toby Kebbell on the other hand started his career with a moving and very convincing role in one of the best British thrillers of our generation: Dead Man’s Shoes. He then went on to play Joy Divisions manager in Control and was the Rockstar in the latest Guy Ritchie film, Rock N’ Rolla. Which I haven’t seen yet. It was explained to me that no one would of heard for Kebbell and that’s why no one would vote for him, which is what made me feel the award which has made James Mcavoy a bit of a soon to be acting great, just a bit of a farse. Where as there was very little to gain from the Kidult and Adulthood films, all Noel Clarke can account for is a few appearances in Doctor Who and a full series of Auf Wiedersain Pet. Which I think you’d agree is a fairly average CV for any Actor/filmmaker. I do feel for Toby Kebbell because that award would of made people finally take notice of such a young and talented actor who has all the promise Euwan Mcregor had when he first went running down that street in Trainspotting. It feels like a great injustice for British cinema. However I did have to vote for Noel, because he came into our college once to give a talk and he said that if we voted for him he would come in again and let us hold his award, so I suppose every cloud does have a silver lining.
Not too much else I can think of at the moment that is bothering me, although next weekend looks to be a pretty one, so I will write down all gory details in this here blog. Be good to each other and God bless.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
Writing Blog's, Snow and the Super Bowl
I thought it was finally time to clog up web space with my terrible spelling and shocking grammar. Why? Probably because recently in my boredom I’ve wanted somewhere to jot down my ramblings, and thought in the hope that someone will take the time out to read them, and maybe get something out of them, then again maybe not, but it’s always good to write down your thoughts. Jimmi Hendrix had a similar problem. He used to write down tunes on pieces of paper, cig packets, napkins etc, and just collect them up. He just collected loads of unreleased lyrics and music around his house for many years…Then he died and his missus threw them all in the bin. I like to think that one day when I eventually die someone will read this blog just to get my thoughts, and then delete it so my mum won’t read it.
The other night whilst trying to deal with the excitement of the impending snow storm, I had a bit of trouble sleeping, so I thought I would have a gander at the Super Bowl, which was on BBC One. Now those of you who know me will know that I hate pretty much everything American, to point where it would probably be considered racism, but luckily Americans aren’t protected by the unwritten, social racism laws. So watching the Super Bowl was always bound to be an uncomfortable experience for me. I missed the opening ceremony but I was told by a friend it consisted of: jet’s flying over the stadium, a pop star singing the national anthem, fireworks going off like Chinese New Year, and 100,000 grown men and women crying. When I tuned in the “second quarter” had just started and I watched on with an open mind as I tried to understand the rules, but it was impossible as the game kept stopping every 2 minutes… I never worked out why, but I can imagine it was something to do with the ridiculous television advertising rights they have over there. By half time or “the end of the second quarter” as they called it things only got worse, Bruce Springsteen and The E Street band came out to sing a few tunes and more fireworks and over the top performers appeared. It was all too much by this point and I turned off and continued reading my book. But I couldn’t help thinking the difference between the two national sports of America and Great Britain, and how again we have succeeded in being better then that horrible place to the far left of us. Our national sport also called football is the most popular and well known, and supported sports in the entire world, where as America’s “football” is only played in their country alone, so why the world coverage, and over the top ceremony? Our equivalent of the Super Bowl would probably be the FA Cup. The oldest and most famous domestic knock out competition in the entire world, yet our ceremony consists of the players coming out at around 2:50 on a Saturday afternoon in May, being greeted by a member of the royal family, singing the national anthem, and then playing 90 minutes of the best sport in the world. When the match is finished the players walk up the steps where they are presented medals and the trophy, they then celebrate, sip champagne and all get pissed. No Bruce Springsteen, no Jet fighter planes flying over head, no constant delays to have a “message from our sponsor”. Its times when I have thought’s like that when I’m proud to be apart of quaint British culture, and it made me thankful once again that I had won the lottery of life and was born an Englishman.
In other news, this week we had the most snow I had ever seen in my life, so me and Chapman used it as the best opportunity to build a huge penis in the park. I always love how everyone shits themselves with excitement the moment the weather changes from the usual grey and dull to any other extreme. Whether it be 25 degree heat of an inch of snow, people go fucking mental, take days off work, rush over to the local park and their actions get national news coverage. What I did enjoy however was how it was like having a little holiday, I didn’t even bother contemplating going into college and just spent the past few days lounging around playing football manager and ploughing through a few more chapters of A Clockwork Orange.
Well that’s been my thoughts. Watch this space for more pointless rants and crazy adventures.
God Bless
The other night whilst trying to deal with the excitement of the impending snow storm, I had a bit of trouble sleeping, so I thought I would have a gander at the Super Bowl, which was on BBC One. Now those of you who know me will know that I hate pretty much everything American, to point where it would probably be considered racism, but luckily Americans aren’t protected by the unwritten, social racism laws. So watching the Super Bowl was always bound to be an uncomfortable experience for me. I missed the opening ceremony but I was told by a friend it consisted of: jet’s flying over the stadium, a pop star singing the national anthem, fireworks going off like Chinese New Year, and 100,000 grown men and women crying. When I tuned in the “second quarter” had just started and I watched on with an open mind as I tried to understand the rules, but it was impossible as the game kept stopping every 2 minutes… I never worked out why, but I can imagine it was something to do with the ridiculous television advertising rights they have over there. By half time or “the end of the second quarter” as they called it things only got worse, Bruce Springsteen and The E Street band came out to sing a few tunes and more fireworks and over the top performers appeared. It was all too much by this point and I turned off and continued reading my book. But I couldn’t help thinking the difference between the two national sports of America and Great Britain, and how again we have succeeded in being better then that horrible place to the far left of us. Our national sport also called football is the most popular and well known, and supported sports in the entire world, where as America’s “football” is only played in their country alone, so why the world coverage, and over the top ceremony? Our equivalent of the Super Bowl would probably be the FA Cup. The oldest and most famous domestic knock out competition in the entire world, yet our ceremony consists of the players coming out at around 2:50 on a Saturday afternoon in May, being greeted by a member of the royal family, singing the national anthem, and then playing 90 minutes of the best sport in the world. When the match is finished the players walk up the steps where they are presented medals and the trophy, they then celebrate, sip champagne and all get pissed. No Bruce Springsteen, no Jet fighter planes flying over head, no constant delays to have a “message from our sponsor”. Its times when I have thought’s like that when I’m proud to be apart of quaint British culture, and it made me thankful once again that I had won the lottery of life and was born an Englishman.
In other news, this week we had the most snow I had ever seen in my life, so me and Chapman used it as the best opportunity to build a huge penis in the park. I always love how everyone shits themselves with excitement the moment the weather changes from the usual grey and dull to any other extreme. Whether it be 25 degree heat of an inch of snow, people go fucking mental, take days off work, rush over to the local park and their actions get national news coverage. What I did enjoy however was how it was like having a little holiday, I didn’t even bother contemplating going into college and just spent the past few days lounging around playing football manager and ploughing through a few more chapters of A Clockwork Orange.
Well that’s been my thoughts. Watch this space for more pointless rants and crazy adventures.
God Bless
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