Monday, 20 February 2012

The camera tripod: Boxing's answer to the folding steel chair

You know what British boxing needed? It needed two of its key protagonists to get into a playground-style ruck involving beer bottles and camera tripods in a foreign country. Only then would the rest of the world realise that we're a serious contender and not to messed with. Either that or we're a bunch of dickheads.

As you're probably aware, Derick Chisora narrowly lost his fight with Vitali Klitschko on Saturday night and went some way to repairing his reputation as a tit-end. He'd spent the run-up to the fight slapping and spitting any Russians put in front of him, but his efforts in the ring actually afforded him some respect. Alas, that went tits up when David "Mind me toe" Haye rocked up at the back of the post-scrap press conference and started yelling all manner of clumsy offence, focussing heavily on Chisora's recent record of defeats. Chisora decided this was uncalled for and went to the back to confront him, and - not to put too fine a point on it - the shit hit the fan.

Despite both being professional pugilists, only one punch of note was landed, and even that looked more like a drunk bird hitting her boyfriend with a Bacardi Breezer. All manner of cameras were in attendance so we've been afforded every conceivable angle of the action, culminating in Haye slinging a camera tripod at his opponent (as you do), but only succeeding in hitting his own trainer who ended up bleeding and looking very furious indeed.

Haye subsequently legged it and checked out of his hotel (as we speak is still at large somewhere in Germany) while Chisora thought the best way to calm the situation down was to declare that he would 'shoot' and 'burn' David Haye. If Haye now ends up shot and/or burnt, you can't say he hadn't been warned.

I'm not what you'd call a boxing fan, but even I'm embarrassed by the antics of these two muscle-bound buffoons. I was brought up to respect other people's possessions and to behave when in a foreign country, but these two uber-berks think throwing their weight and photographic equipment about is an acceptable way to conduct themselves on foreign soil. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a clumsy PR stunt to drum up interest in a real fight between these two, but surely they could have done it in a more suitable venue. Like, oh I don't know, a boxing ring?

Thursday, 19 January 2012

Showboating: Ironic

We all know bigheads. Those people who think they're brilliant and act like Charlie Big Potatoes, strutting around in their white sneakers and large-peaked cap, using words like 'Dench' and 'Bo'
like they're going out of fashion.

Despite the epic douchebaggery of these people, in the main they're doing us no harm. Indeed, such people often reinforce the positive impression one has about oneself, leading us to opine "Well, it could be worse. I could be that large-hatted twat" or similar.

However, when a member of the arrogantista is in charge of a fuck-off cruise liner, that's the very definition of a recipe for disaster.

Step forward Francesco "Look, there's Guiseppe. Get closer so I can say hello" Schettino, the captain of the semi-submerged Costa Concordia. He was the skipper of the CC when he decided that maritime protocol was girl's stuff, and opted to sail past an Italian island close enough to salute one of his mates and ultimately show off. Alas, his antics led to his ship running aground, taking on water and ultimately succumbing to what shipping experts call 'sinking'.

The fall-out is pretty intense. Confirmed fatalities are into double figures as divers continue to scour the wreckage for survivors and/or bodies, while the ship's owners wasted no time in blaming Schettino for deviating off course and generally arsing about with 4,000 people's lives. He was promptly arrested and a leaked account of his interview confirms that he did in fact do a bit of detour to shout 'Bonjourno' to a friend. As you do.

This is where his arrogance goes into overdrive. In the interview, he quite spectacularly insisted that had it not been for his quick-thinking after hitting the rocks, many more lives would have been lost. You've got to have some seriously big bollocks to claim that rectifying your own stupidity is worthy of credit. This coming from a man who ended up on the receiving end of a monumental bollocking from the coastguard for abandoning ship before the passengers, while he protested that he had been catapulted off (presumably via inertia rather than some kind of elastic contraption) and couldn't get back on.

As you might imagine, there's very little chance he's going to get away with this. I presume his sailing licence has been ripped up and he's had to return his big white hat, and he can kiss goodbye to his freedom, let alone his future sea captaincy. You can't argue that he doesn't deserve it either, and hopefully this will send a message to other sailspeople who fancy demonstrating their high level of self-confidence in the future:

The sea is a cruel mistress, but rocks will fuck your ship right up.

Friday, 13 January 2012

"They did it on purpose, Lynne"

There are plenty of words you can use to describe the urinating actions of the US soldiers on Taliban corpses. Abhorrent, disgusting, despicable, erotic. Well, not so much erotic.

I'm sure you've seen the story by now, but basically, some army whistle blower has released video footage of a bunch of American soldiers 'getting caught short' all over a row of dead Taliban fighters. Despite the inhuman nature of their antics, there's a definite air of positivity within the footage, with one even squeaking 'have a good day, buddy', as if that's possible after everything that's happened to them.

What I find ironic is these lads were sent over there to restore peace to the area, and after putting their lives on the line to do so, they think that stirring the shit up by doing this is the best way to progress. Fortunately, the Taliban leaders who have begun talks with the Yanks about calming the whole "Well they started it" caboodle down have said that this footage won't affect the progress they're trying to make in brokering peace, which is a bloody good job really. Let's face it; they've every right to kick off and start scrapping again, and who could blame them? If footage was leaked (arf) of the Taliban doing that to US corpses all hell would break loose.

Perhaps most stupid (or brazen, depending on your outlook) is the fact that they allowed their faces to be shown on the video. Surely they must have realised that if this footage ever ended up in the wrong hands, their asses would be grass in no time? As we speak the government has already said they've identified the battalion and a couple of the participants, I fully expect the noisiest of noise to be brought by the military now, not least to show that they're not going to stand for this kind of mucking about when there's peace in the offing.

I have no doubt that this kind of activity takes place on both sides during the fog of war. Andy McNab was very descriptive about what he was made to do by his captors, for example. I'd be amazed if more urine or licking-your-own-shit-off-your-fingers action wasn't happening off-camera, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable. There are plenty of underground clubs that cater for this kind of 'erotic niche' the world over, so my advice would be to do it in a toilet until you get home. Or at the very least cover your face, you dolt.

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Anthony Worrall Tealeaf more like

Shoplifting. The old five-finger discount. Reserve of the social underclass and confused soap opera teenagers, right?

Er, wrong, actually. Know it all.

Miniature double-barrelled pan-jockey Anthony Worrall Thompson is the latest 'celebrity' to be caught half-inching goods, in this case from Tescos. This high-drama caper began last month, when he was seen using the self-service checkouts to his advantage by bagging stuff he hadn't paid for. Apparently he did it five times under surveillance before security hauled him in for questioning. He was subsequently cautioned by the Feds and the bleating has gone into overdrive.

You may recall a previous e-rant regarding people being caught having affairs and what have you, but rather than admitting they enjoyed the trappings of their adulterousness (it's a word, don't bother looking it up), they instead went all doe-eyed and wailed how they were in a dark place and needed help, etc. In all likelihood they would have carried on shagging their pneumatic backing dancers forever if they hadn't been caught, but saying "I was enjoying that, spoilsport" sends a negative message which may affect future album sales.

Anyway, AWT has decided that 5 was exactly the right number of thefts to commit to realise it was wrong, and has gone on record about how he has let his family down and he needs professional help. Yeah, cos you've been harbouring these demons for 60 years, and they've suddenly wrestled control of your psyche and made you steal onions? Put a sock in it, beardy. If he did it once in a moment of sheer madness, maybe, but repeatedly highlights not that he needs help, but that he's a tight twat who was trying to keep his shopping bill down. Understandable during these times of austerity, but surely nothing a quick book launch couldn't have fixed.

At the end of the day, it's hard to argue that his celebrity status hasn't saved him from the big house. Behooded hoodlums were banged up for far less after last year's riots so it hardly seems fair that he gets away with it. I very much doubt he employed Basic Instinct-like behaviours to flash his minge at the cops, but then I wasn't there so I don't know. Either way, I hope you're not thinking about what that might look like. That would be awful.

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Age gaps: Nothing but a number (derived from subtracting one number from another)

I'm missing something here. A 32-year-old woman and a 17-year-old boy have admitted they're seeing one another (I therefore presume shagging one another too). That's it. That's the story in its entirety.

Talk about a shit-storm though.

The lady in question is Caroline Flack who presents The Xtra Factor (whatever the hell that is), while the lad is part of singing sensation One Direction, who I'm led to believe are a modern musical act. Apparently the fact that there is a 15-year age gap between them has got some people very hot and bothered, as if he was nine and she some aging spinster with a pocket full of flying saucers.

For the sake of argument, let's put aside the fact that some boys/men have older women fantasies, and that she also happens to be a proper corker. Are either of them doing anything wrong? I grant you that it's unusual for two well-known people of such ages to get together, but I bet hundreds of millions of couples in the UK alone are in relationships with similar age gaps. Extrapolate those number across the globe and you're talking upwards of 14 billion people in similar circumstances. And they can't all be wrong.

I get why some people might say "Bit weird, innit? She's old enough to be his great aunt on some estates, yet here she is banging him like a porch door in a storm", but in truth, some people have labelled their tryst as 'disgusting', which is a bit harsh to say the least. There does come a point where an age gap becomes uncomfortable, but this isn't it. If he was 25 and her 40 nobody would be batting an eyelid. And the last time I checked the town charter, 16 was the minimum age for coitus, so she's OK on that score.

I can also understand people's concerns when the genders where reversed. That lad off The Green Mile is in his early fifties and he's married to a 17-year-old top-heavy blonde piece, and that's a bit odd. Don't get me wrong, I can see what 'assets' he was attracted to (tits) but she seems happy enough and they spend that much time in the limelight that he couldn't get up to any creepy mischief even if he wanted to.

At the end of the day, you can't choose who you fall for. If these two want to get it on bedroom-wise, let them help themselves. Wringing your hands and commenting on the inappropriateness isn't going to make them change their minds. As with all relationships, it will come to a tearful, bloody end soon enough, so let's let the kids have some fun before we're all in our cold, cold graves. Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Light up, light up, as if you have a choice. Er, you don't...

I'm a non-smoker. Apart from a couple of years in the mid-noughties when I tried my hand at being a cool dude, I've never been interested in Lady Nicotine. Or cigs.

As a result, any legislation which bans smoking in public areas is AOK by me. Yes, it means that you're constantly stuck behind selfish arseholes at supermarket doorways as they strive to light up the second they leave the building, and the revelation that under the smoke lies only farts and B.O. in nightclubs hasn't been universally welcomed, but the health issues must surely be clear for all to see (not least now all the smoke has gone - arf!).

However, the latest development is a request to have smoking banned in cars, regardless of whether you are alone or not. And to me, that's a bit rubbish.

I subscribe to the notion of common sense; that people have their own minds and exercise the relevant caution in their day-to-day lives to ensure themselves and those around them are not put in any unnecessary danger. To that end, I expect people with passengers in their cars not to smoke, for example. Call me naive if you will, but I just expect people to be intelligent enough to make that call without being told it's bad and what have you.

If they want to get in a car alone, wind the windows up and smoke themselves into some kind of stupor, however, they can jolly well help themselves in my book. Providing they don't obscure their visibility with the smoke and/or piss about lighting fags when they should be concentrating on the actual driving, that's up to them. You would think they would know the health risks (those unsubtle "Smoking makes your ears explode and people call your sexuality into question behind your back" mottos on packets get the point across), so if they want to do it, leave 'em to it (potential slogan there).

If I got into a car and someone lit a cigarette without asking, they would be politely told to put it out. If they asked permission to light up first, they would likewise be told no. It's a simple system which we can all abide by which ensures that those who want to smoke can do, and those who don't like it don't have to tolerate it. Forcing folk not to smoke in the privacy of their own cars is just ludicrous, when we're told police numbers are at an all-time low. Surely they should be out there stopping and searching young people in inner cities for no real reason rather than pursuing someone through the courts because they had a fag on in a traffic jam.

What next - silencers on Christmas crackers to prevent heart attacks? Probably not, no.

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

End of the world III - this time it's personal

You've got to respect "Reverend" Harold Camping, who has recently announced his bi-annual prediction of the world's end.

Having predicted it would go tits up existence-wise on May 21st, he then revised his calculation to October 21st instead. Presumably he forgot to carry the one.

The most amusing aspect of this ridiculous man is he's done this sort of thing before, having predicted Armageddon in 1994. Whether he was talking about the pissy Hollywood action flick is unclear, but you have to admire his insistence that it was a mere mathematical error and next time he'll totally be right.

Personally, I don't see the point in trying to predict the end of the world. If you're wrong, you look like a right knob, and if you're right, everyone's dead so you won't be able to say "Told ya didn't I". Yes, you'd be able to wander around heaven looking smug at your accurate prediction, but those around you would presumably already believe you. It's us Hell-dwellers who would be most put out by him thumbing his angelic nose at us whilst imploring us to "Kiss it".

The thing is, the Rapture isn't the sort of news folk want to hear about. If you could predict the lottery numbers, you'd probably have a much more responsive audience, but if your game is telling people that they won't be seeing Children in Need this year, aside from a celebratory air-punch, I imagine they'd be a bit irked.

At the end of the day (geddit?) where there's religion, you're always going to have a healthy flock of lunatics telling us we're bad and we're off to Hell and the end is nigh, etc. If that is the case, then why don't you sod off and let us get on with it? If you predictions are accurate, you'll be upstairs playing air hockey with Jimi Hendrix soon enough anyway, so let us get on with our debauched lives in peace. Just let us have a quick crack at Imogen Thomas first.

Friday, 7 October 2011

It's a day for common sense

It's genuinely heartening to see that bloke from Manchester not facing charges after he stabbed some burglar's shit up when he broke into his house. By the sounds of it, he used reasonable self-defence against this punk, so he hasn't been done for murder. And that to me is common sense.

My own outlook goes way beyond this 'reasonable force' mantra. Personally, my attitude is "If you break into someone's house, they can do literally anything like like to you, including (but not limited to) the use of knives, killer bees and some kind of flame-throwing device to cause you harm, predominantly to the face if possible". I don't advocate the murder of the burgling scum, but I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to bring the noise if they have the temerity to break in in the first place. For all they know, you just happened to be sharpening your best axe at the time. I appreciate this leans slightly towards a vigilante culture, but as long as you're not wandering the streets with a machete looking for bother, you should be OK to defend yourself by whatever means necessary should someone want to nick your LP's.

I've heard arguments about such acts infringing the burglar's human rights and whatnot when these events occur, but my argument is always the same - what about the rights of the victims? I have a similar outlook to those in prison. I couldn't give a fuck if you're cramped or have to poo in front of twenty other men, or that two inmates keep trying to disembowel you with razor blades melted into toothbrush handles - you should have thought of that before you started burgling/raping/murdering folk. My sympathy you have not got.

The acid test will come when another burglar tryies to do his thing and is met by a Home Alone-inspired scene of flying paint pots and sticky floors, ending with a good hiding from a sporting bat of some description. At that point the courts will probably have to say 'come on, play the game' and send the homeowner down, not least for referencing Home Alone in modern society. Until that day though, I see no reason why homeowners can't continue to introduce the pilfering underclass to their friend pain. Maybe then they might learn not to bother. Fools.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Just cos nothing rhymes with 'Sollecito'

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Thursday, 29 September 2011

Nice rack, lend us a tenner

There has been a study published recently detailing the propensity for people to pose as legitimate folk on that Internet, find vulnerable people to groom, then con then out of literally thousands of pounds by tugging at their heartstrings. Those conducting the study have commented that it seems much more common than they first thought, with the numbers likely to be even higher when you factor in the number of people just too damned embarrassed to report the blag.

You'll be mortified to learn that I find the whole caboodle laughable, as if there is someone out there daft enough to part with their hard-earned just because someone they've never met tells them they've got nice hair. I mean, come on, I get that some people are vulnerable and liable to fall for someone who pays them the right kind of attention, but surely even they get alarm bells when they get requests for £45 cos their beau's clutch is shot.

Don't get me wrong; I can see it happening in a situation where the baddie spends months working their target, meeting them, maybe even interfering with them sexually (consensual of course) before dropping the bomb that they need ten large in the next few days or their fingers will be cut off. Within a few months, plenty of relationships have established a level of trust where such a request no longer feels like a confidence trick. But you've got the draw the line at handing over brass when the only evidence you've got of them is a grainy picture cut from the TV Times depicting a fringe cast member from Hollyoaks.

I wrote a blog of a similar ilk a while ago about a woman who had succumbed to such a ruse, and went on the radio to alert people to the possibility. She suggested that nobody could call her names worse than she'd already called herself, which was asking for trouble, but at least she had the balls to hold her hands up and say "Yep, the game's up. He got me" to at least show that this can happen to people. It's all well and good releasing studies saying it happens to thousands of people a year, but without a victim to come out and describe their experiences, all you're going to get is self-righteous idiots belittling their plight in blogs. I imagine.

At the end of the day, while there's money and emotions in the world, this is going to keep happening. It's a lazy stereotype (something of a trademark on here you might have noticed), but there's always going to be slick-haired lotharios preying on emotional-scarred women who just need a hug in order to get their hands on their wonga (not a euphemism). While it's never a bad idea to expose these sorts of goings-on to help reduce the number of cases, you eventually have to trust people to have a bit of common sense. To paraphrase Homer Simpson, if you're dumb enough to fall for this kind of trick, you deserve to be robbed of all your money. Doh!