Sunday, July 18, 2010

I'm Moving (blog) House...

As of 18th July 2010, I have moved this blog to - thanks for visiting and putting up with the ranting and drivel (there'll be more to come, I have no doubt...!)

The more direct address of (and, of course, the "www." version for all those that feel you HAVE to do that) will repoint v shortly (in fact, I'm working on it right this very minute... well, ok not RIGHT now ... jesus, give a guy a break...!)


Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The Groom's Speech

This is my friend's speech he made as Groom:

My gorgeous bride and I, would like to thank you all for coming
To watch our vows, to sing the hymns, which I’m sure most of us were humming.

To see us both declare our love, at this our wedding mass
And witness lucky Englishman wed lovely Irish lass.

Pearls sister Grace and my friend Chris, brought Pearl and I together
Through a camping trip, a tent shortage, red wine and some cold weather.

We’re both grateful for their match-making, it’s as though they had it planned
They say, they knew we both loved ‘Beatles’, not the insects, but the band

So to Chris and Grace we’d like to say, you were both in the know
When you invited us to pup our tents with you 6 years ago.

And now I’d like to say a big thank you, to Maureen, Pearls mum
For giving away her daughter, and making me a son

I promise to look after Pearl, to honour and obey
Pearl told me to write that last bit so it’s started straight away.

Our thanks go out to Kevin, for being my best man
It’s so hard to plan a wedding when you’re living in San Fran

So we thank him for his sterling work and everything he’s done
And remind him for his best man speech, that I can legally buy a gun.

Thank you to the bridesmaids Federica, Rachel, Grace
For dolling up so beautifully and keeping train in place

Our thanks to my dad and Maureen, and all the family that are here
To make this day so special and to share our wedding cheer (that should say beer)

We thank our friends for coming, but my biggest thanks must be
To my gorgeous bride, my lovely Pearl who agreed to marry me.

I looked up the word ‘wedding’, in a dictionary, it said
“Removal of small unwanted plants, from lawns and flower beds”

But I think that it’s much more than that, it’s about the love we share
And the friends that came to witness it and show us that they care

As an atheist I don’t believe in purgatory or heaven
But as I proposed in Sidmouth, this is a marriage made in Devon

I Dreamed a Dream

I dreamed a dream. A solid, hearty dream
I’m sure
A stout yet languid dream, this dream
Of mine
With purpose and passion I shook
The bed in which I lay
In glorious mind

Monday, July 5, 2010

Dreaming at 4:30

I feel your kiss still,
Lingering on my lips,
As though they were touched by a ghost.
Faint reminder
Of the time we have spent
So recently.
It seems to me a dream,
This physical reminiscence,
Like sweet, morphemic torture
Which agonisingly disappears
Upon waking.
Is there something other than time
Which will return your lips to mine?
Let tomorrow come now,
For I think that I shall not survive
Another moment without your soft, crushing embrace.

Swindon - a Beacon of Civic Pride

This is for the swindonians, you'll all be able to understand this!!!

Ah...Swindon. With a population blended, like a cheap whisky, from the genes of navvies, railway workers and the dross London didn't want, you'd expect a bit of chav to creep in here and there - and you won't be disappointed. Chavs have always been here, although we tend to call them pikeys (nothing to do with gypsies, it's a local thing).

Now there's one simple rule in Swindon; pikey begins with a "P", and so do the places where they live. Park North, Park South, Pinehurst and Penhill. What an ingenious piece of subersive town planning. Unfortunately they're not content to stay in their ghettos full-time so the town centre is full of the critters in their white baseball caps with their 14-year old partners and their horrible little offspring. At night the bottom end of town (around the what used to be the Litten Tree) is like a war zone and a red light district rolled into one, with gangs of chavs fighting and barely-dressed underage girls looking for their next shag. You can thank the council for allowing 20 bars in 50 yards of street frontage.

Mobile chavs head for Greenbridge, where there is a drive-thru McD's and a kebab van. Under-car neon, blue washer jets and drum 'n' bass are the order of the day as the chavs live out their "Fast and the Furious" fantasies in a 1.1 Saxo. Suburban chav pubs include the truly horrible "merlin" and "messenger" (lower case obligatory) which have both carried 3 different names in the last 5 years and have been rough as a buzzard's crutch in each of these successive incarnations.

Oddly, you will see a lot of twentysomething chavs driving quite decent cars, because the giant Honda factory sucks up a lot of semi-literate Swindonians who might otherwise be unemployable. They can lease a new Honda for about £99 a month and - joy of joys - they're not allowed to modify it into some Max Power nightmare. They still wear a white frickin' baseball cap every time they drive it though.
And remember Swindon Tiffany is not just for social services cheques....she's for life!