Did the earth move for you? Snigger...

OK, can we just draw a line under this whole earthquake palaver now please? Given the time it occurred the only real footage we've got is from CCTV cameras, which is fair enough. However, after a quick scout round a few video sites to see if there was any other coverage of it, all I've come across is stupid, misinformed gimps who really should have been in bed at the time.

I can't have a go at bloggers too much for obvious reasons, but this video blogging is taking it a bit far. Do a quick search of 'UK earthquake" and you'll be inundated with dozens of fat pillocks from Leeds swearing copiously and blaming the earthquake on global warming.

That's right, folks: global warming caused the earthquake.

I'm not sure if you've studied natural history, but the first earthquake actually happened in Los Angeles in 1974, and was directly linked to the smog which choked the city at that time. In 1982, Lancashire also suffered a quake which was measured at 8.4 on the old Scale de Richter. Science types eventually traced the cause back to the Industrial Revolution. Unbelievable, isn't it?

THAT'S COS IT'S GOT NOWT TO DO WITH GLOBAL WARMING, YOU PRICKS.

The tectonic plates which make up the Earth are constantly moving. Granted, they move more in some parts of the world, but they're always on the go. Occasionally their movements are more pronounced, causing the 'Earth' to 'quake', which is where we got the term from. Just once it would be nice if the people who posted material on the Internet had the slightest clue about what they're talking about. What next? Global warming causes blizzards? Paedophiles? Car crashes? Ridiculous.

Personally, it scared the living bejesus out of me. I was asleep at the time so my mind wasn't exactly switched on as it happened. I thought the house behind me had collapsed given the sound of falling bricks which accompanied the shaking (still haven't worked out what that was) but the house is still in one piece and there's no discernible harm done. The only problem was I couldn't get back to sleep afterwards. I blame global warming.

Be horrible, you live longer

WARNING: Some readers might be offended by this blog. Especially if they like people.

Is it just me, or is it only the best, happiest, most intelligent people who get murdered? Every time someone gets done in, their friends and family tell us they were the perfect daughter/nephew/hooker and always had time for everybody.

It gets worse when it's a schoolchild who is killed. For some reason they're always top of the class, excel at ballet or computers and were arguably the most pleasant child in the country, let alone the school. Not for a minute am I detracting from the positive aspects of people, (especially by family members who want them to be remembered as a nice person) but you have to draw the line somewhere.

I genuinely hope that when I meet my maker, be it be fair means or foul, those closest to me will be honest about their feelings for me. I'm alright; I like a drink and a laugh but I do have a robust manifesto at times (read previous blogs for example). On the positive side, I'm an ace driver and a doting boyfriend and cat owner. On the negative side I often judge music and films without actually seeing them (drives the Mrs up the wall) and have a go at pedestrians. You don't have to be nasty to tell the truth about someone.

So in conclusion, I hope that one day, when someone's life has been tragically cut short, we get to hear about the real person. The grouchy, debt-ridden soul who tried their hardest and was a loving parent or spouse. Otherwise I'll have to start wondering whether murderers are hunting down the most successful and admirable people as some sort of macabre genetic cull. Stranger things have happened.

"Single" seems to be the hardest word

The Mrs told me a story recently that's both depressing and amusing in equal measure. A friend of hers was in a long-distance relationship with a chap London way, when she found out that she'd been dumped.

Did he call her? No.

Text? Nope.

Email: Keep going.

She found out because he changed his FaceBook relationship status from 'In a relationship' to 'single'. Nice.

To be honest, how gutless do you have to be to do this? Fair enough, change the setting, but make sure the other half knows about it first. Finding out this way is just cold, albeit comedic to the onlooker.

That is all.

Holiday round-up

Those of you who know me know that any blog with the word 'holiday' in the title is bound to be filled with aggression and assertive opinions, but this is the exception. I've recently returned from 4 days in Scotland, and it was alright. However, there were a couple of things which ever-so-slightly got on my nerves...

Public Transport = Shite
Who would've thought that a couple of power lines falling down would cause so much trouble? Arriving in York for our first change we discovered some power lines had come down near Thirsk, meaning all through trains to Darlington had been stopped, and vice versa. Brilliant. To be fair to the station staff they got the ball rolling sharpish but that meant sitting on a smelly old coach for about 17 hours surrounding by some of the most cretinous people in the world (the general public). Due to an additional accident the driver had to take an alternative route to the extent that at one point we drove past my back garden. When we finally got there we had to stand on a freezing platform for ages until the train arrived. That was understandably packed but we managed to blag first-class seats and sat watching the darkness (not the piss-poor band) go past for another couple of hours. In the end, a journey which should have taken about 5 hours took 9. What a start.

Nurses = Legends
The reason for the trip was to attend a 100th birthday party. That itself was OK (I was given lager and cake so you can't really complain). I could go on all day about the old folks in the home but let's just say it was a depressing and uplifting experience in equal measure. However, what struck me was the unbelievable class of the nursing staff. To a man (well, woman) they were friendly, polite, incredibly patient and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their work. It's a testament to their dedication that there were so many smiling pensioners about. It later transpired that they'd even had a whip-round to provide the alcohol for the do. Great, great people. And a couple of them were absolute crackers as well.

Edinburgh = Edinbeggar
That title works better if you pronounce it like a Yank, but the truth is within 500 yards of the station we'd seen 3 of the work-shy blighters. I've got nothing against them personally, but I would like it if they fucked off the main roads and plied their 'trade' elsewhere. Edinburgh is a nice place and the museum is shit hot, but the fact that my observations are based on the beggars proved that the council is getting it wrong. If I were in charge I'd have them moved on sharpish. Nobody wants to be accosted by these tramps, however unaggressively, but it immediately paints a bad picture of an otherwise picturesque city.

That's more or less it for the McHoliday. I saw Wayne Hemingway at York station and my auntie's house from the train but that's not really interesting. And I also saw Murrayfield, which is without doubt the most faceless stadium I've ever seen, and I've seen Craven Cottage.

Now with drive-in lounge...

It's not often you get to say this sentence:

"This evening, a man driving a large, American pick-up lost control, mounted the kerb and destroyed my bin and gas meter"

Not a regular occurrence, I'm sure you'll agree. Pretty much what you read above is what happened; I'm sat minding me own watching telly when I hear a loud crunching noise. Thinking there was some automative carnage appertaining I had a butcher's. I found myself staring face to face with the driver of said pick-up, as he apologetically began to reverse over my already flattened bin.

To be fair, the bin is relatively unscathed, but the box that covers the gas meter is toast. It could have been a lot worse. He could've bust my house. I could have had a gas leak. He could have severed my Sky cable. All's well that ends well to be honest. He'll pay for the damage and stump up for a new gearbox and sump (that'll be cheap). The council have sanded the liquid and the cops (God bless 'em) once again provided a superlative service getting his details and sorting the whole debacle out.

People who know my house will be familiar with this clown. He drives a giant American car which has been dubbed "The Westwoodmobile", given its gangster leanings. In reality he actually looks like Mr. Belding of "Saved by the bell" fame, and now the Westwoodmobile is dead. Bare deng, I'm sure you'll agree.

Cos I remember asking

No word of a lie, these three conversations took place between me and colleagues in one working day recently:

Morning
Me: Hiya
Bird: Hi
Me: Alright?
Bird: Will be after I've had a wee
Me: ?
Bird: You probably didn't want to know that though
Me: You think?



Early afternoon
A colleague is approaching so I hold a door open for him. He signals he's about to turn off into a side corridor, meaning I don't have to wait for him.

Me: No problem
Him: Just going to the toilet


Late afternoon
A driver and I both entered the canteen at the same time. I went to the can machine and he to the coffee machine. Nothing was said between us.

Me: *Minds own business*
Him: Might go and have a piss


Jesus Christ. Do I have a face which says "tell me your toilet details"? I never once tell anyone when I'm off to the bog, mainly because I expect they couldn't give two shiny shites, but for some reason people insist on letting me know. Thanks but no thanks.

The next time somebody tells me anything about their movements, either pre- or post-lavatorial visit, I'm going to look them square in the eye and say "I couldn't give a flying rat's cock, squire". I just hope it's not the MD...

Be impolite, it saves time

Last night I saw one of my colleagues in Tescos. She was in a world of her own so I didn't make eye contact. This morning I got to work and had completely forgotten about seeing her until I bumped into her. I then uttered a phrase which cost me 5 solid minutes of my life:

"I saw you in Tescos last night"

Now, far be it from me to be mysoginistic (how many times have I started a sentence like that?) but if I had said that to a bloke he would have done one of three things:

1) Said "Oh yeah?" in a disinterested tone
2) Ignored me on the basis of the campness of the statement
3) Faked an elaborate and sarcastic yawn

However, the lady in question embarked upon an epic tale of the various stores she'd visited, how she couldn't find what she wanted so ended up in Tescos, and she asked the woman if they had it and she said they did but she wasn't sure where it was then it turned up in a pile of them but it was priced at £4.50 which seemed a bit cheap but it was actually that price so now I've got to get her something extra for her birthday and so on and so on and so on.

As she is a lovely lady I had no choice but to listen to this drivel, each second passing with me screaming inside for this torture to end. However, I know full well that if I see her again anywhere, I'm keeping my trap shut.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you what she was buying. A Hannah Montana DVD. Christ.