Saturday, 28 December 2013

cote d'ivoire

Pissing Hell, where do I start?
I'll tell you where I start and that's by wishing all of my two readers a Merry Christmas!  How's that for merriment?

Two weeks ago I was unloading the van, first morning of a job, when I needed to ring a supplier to see if a drop was happening.  As this phone call progressed I heard a Ring Necked Parakeet calling behind me!  Shit le bed, Joe le taxi etc.  I turned on a sixpence and saw the plastic yorkshire tick join some more plastic yorkshire ticks in the form of 20 feral Pigeons.  It flew 'round with them for 10 seconds before deciding they were too plastic and too dross to congregate with.  It then flew off east calling.  Get in!  Yorkshire tick no less!  399 now.  One to go...... maybe a Gyr or an Ivory Gull might drop in......?

Hell's teeth!  A fucking Ivory Gull at Patrington!  Haven!  Found!  By!  Geoff!  Dobbs!  Exclamation! But!  It's!  Nearly!  Three!  Fifteen!  Can!  I!  make!  it?  Go on, can I?  It's theoretically 35 minutes from my house.....the light goes in 20......nah, i can't make it......

The next day I set off for a bit of work without optics in tow.  Poor memory antics.  At 1p.m. I was done and made a mad dash home to grab optics.  The twat missus had left the key in the french doors enabling it impossible for me to enter, I had no front door keys on me.  She is a basic bastard.   I went to Pat Haven with no optical aids.  I am shit.  Fats is shit more to the point.  Another patio on the way.....

Arriving at Pat Hav, as the cool kids know it, I was immediately offered scope views by Mr Gary Dayes which is the second time this year I've had my first views of a LIFER through his scope, after the Rock Thrush at Spurn!  What a nice guy.  Thanks Gary.

I have lots to say.  Lots.  Mainly about lucky petulant Mancs primadonnas, a 6-0 scoreline, and an amazing run of fortune when I was taking Auntie Pauline to facking Anglesey involving BB Pip and Upupa Epops antics!  But I'll tell you next time.

And what the fuck was the last post all about?  What was the skeleton all about?  Ha ha ha ha.  I was going to delete it but thought better of it as it is living proof just what happens to my mind if I ever decide to chuck the beer in the future.  It will surely spur me on if I go teetotal.

"Look what happens when you drink" my shrink will say and point to the previous post.
"Oh yeah" I will say.

I begged my doctor for one more line, he said "son, words fail me....."


Friday, 6 December 2013

Controversial Views?

Freeeeeeeee Nelson Mandela.....they sang back in '94 or whenever.  Well, he's free now and the world is better off without him.  There, I said it.  The cause for which he fought is undoubtedly much, much better off for his help and presence, but, dare I say, that issue and fight against apartheid would've been sorted at some point without him.  No doubt.  Modern world would not accept it.  It didn't accept it and it had it changed.  Mandela went about the cause completely the wrong way and shouldn't be put on the pedestal he is on.  Now don't get me wrong here, the cause he was fighting was of course unjust.  Perhaps on a similar level to how Sinn Fein saw/see their fight.

They thought they could do anything as their goal was so justified.

Some of you will already know that Mandela led the "MK", basically the terrorist faction of the ANC.  Mandela was personally responsible for signing off numerous killings, bombings (inluding the infamous church street bomb) and...erm....more killings of innocent women and children.  And gays.  I made that bit up.  My mind says that these attacks were aimed at white people.  This is just a guess, I have no facts and have not resourced this, I could easily but I'm voicing my uninformed mind on this.  It's a gut feeling as I write.  Why?  Because EXTREMISTS target the opposition!  Race doesn't come into it bizarrely!  In this case it does but that's not the point.  It's certainly not my point.  He was extremist albeit to a cause that the 'normal' person would support.  Hard to evaluate.

Mandela's fight was a very, very valid one, but the world has condoned his terrorist actions because "the cause was worth it".  Fact.  Well, I'll tell you something about every struggle in the world, say the muslim fight against the western infidels; believe me, the extremists really REALLY believe that their struggle is 'worth the cause'.  Others do not and take a harsh view on such terrorist actions.

As for Winnie Mandela's football team they were right fucking head-the-balls not that I've ever heard of them.  Honest....

As for Mandela giving South Africa's highest honour to Colonel Gaddafi (no less) and that crazy bastard from Indonesia for their support of the ANC to the tune of $60m or something, again, is beyond me.

I think "the world" has decided that his rights outdo his wrongs and are willing to forget them.  As for me I can't condone his actions.  Freeeeeeeee Nelson Mandela?  Fuuuuuuuuuck Nelson Mandela more like.  No, that's way to harsh.  I just cannot condone it and nor would the modern world.
They certainly wouldn't sing for his release.

I'm as controversial as FUCK me!

Coming next week, a light hearted view on Mugabe's hand picked sex slaves, a controversial review of Mark Spitz: Tom Daley Swallows, and a Yorkshire tick over Hessle!!!!  Fucking hell's teeth!

Is Ring necked Parakeet a description species for Yorkshire?  I fucking hope not cos the last description I submitted sounded like either a juv Grey Heron or a Rufous Tailed Bushchat!  Mind you, I was proper pissed when I wrote it.  Fuckj knows if is "in circulation" or it's just been chucked out within 13 seconds of reading the report.


I like random photos.
Now here's me dressed as a skeleton at a Hallowe'en party:

Shut it bitch.


Sunday, 24 November 2013

Two things amused me this morning. Here they are.

I was amused twice this morn.  TWICE I tells ye!

Sunday morning and the girls are on a sleep over at Grandma's.  Peace.  Whilst I was attempting to get Tubs to give us a blozzer I had the television on in the boudoir.  I first watched Match of the Day which was no recompense for actually attending the city game in which we lost 0-1.  Awful game.  The worst I've seen us in a few years.

After MotD what's his name came on.  Andrew summat.  Marr?  Perhaps that's it.  They were discussing the head of the co-op bank and Methodist reverend Paul Flowers, whom has just been outed for disgusting gross indecency: being the head of a disgusting bank.  AND for having drug fuelled gay sex bum hole cottaging felching fudge packing dinner mashing rusty sheriff's badge dirty tea towel holder chocolate speedway action with rent boys.  Now the first amusement.  One tabloid has labelled this homosapien "The Crystal Methodist".  Get it?  Not bad.  I was still drunk at this point may I add.  In hindsight It's not THAT good but hey!

No blozzer on the agenda as of yet.

I changed the facking channel.  Absolute Radio, channel 700 and summat.  Do you know what they were having "a discussion" about?  You'll never guess.  Even if you like Simple Minds.  Even if you're No neck Ted.  Even if you know that L***s are shit.  Even if you're off Benedict.....

....the discussion was:

Has Jim Kerr, lead singer of Simple Minds, got strange ears?

Fucking what?

What kind of radio discussion is that?  Erm....what am I listening to?
"Fats, it's not gonna suck itself and have you ever noticed Jim Kerr's fucking ears?" I said to my dearest yet empty mouthed Nicole.
People were actually ringing in and texting in their opinions!  Honest.  What in the name of Hell's Teeth is that all about question mark.  One man said "I've noticed that Jim Kerr's ears are a bit odd too, they're sort of, well, a bit odd".  He was in agreement that, in fact, Jim Kerr's ears were, in fact, odd.  In their opinion.  But a lot of people weren't!  Another man, obviously a pro-Jim-Kerr's-ears-are-normal supporter text in "Jim Kerr has done a lot of good music, I like Simple Minds and your persecution of his ears does not reflect that"!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha what the fucking fuck am I listening to?  The presenter retorted, "I'm not saying that he hasn't done lots of good music or that he isn't a great talent, I'm just discussing that his ears are a bit odd compared to normal ears".

My full brain exploded at this point.

Not my bollocks may I add.



Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Spurn Weekend Part 3 of 3.

Sunday came.  I had a few things to do like eat curry, drink beer, bathe in the fish pond etc.  But conditions were still the same as yesterday but a little less blustery.  Things are gonna be found.  As the morning went on I was feeling more and more uneasy that I had to be at Spurn.  Nearly dinner time and I rang Adam A to see if he wanted an afternoon raid.  He did.  Game on.  Again.

Had a quick look at the Gas Terminal but I was more interested in mopping some of the goodies up, which is not like me I'd rather be alone in Easington trying to find something whilst the mob are looking at a Yellow Brow in Kilnsea.  We went straight for the Little Bunt on Green Lane and on turning down Marsh Lane a Great Grey Shrike alighted and flew over the hedge with a few Redwing!  Fifty times I tried for one yesterday with Secret and failed yet today the first bird I see is one and I haven't even stopped the car yet!  I text it to Andy as I wasn't sure if one had been reported from there.  Don't think one had - self found tick! Bumped into John H who informed us that a better Little Bunt was giving good views on Sammy's right now.  It's probably the easier option.  Plus Lee Evans pisses on Badgers.  It's what I've been told.  He's just a hypocryte.  I bet he pisses on Western Hedgehogs as well, although that is just a guess, I don't have any facts to back me up on that one.

Sammy's.  The Little Bunt was on the track not far from the car park.  After a short wait it popped up and gave very good views.  Always a pleasure never a chore.  Little Buntings are so named as they look like a small flag.  As I stood there, melancholy, watching this beautiful lost gem, the breeze brisk but calming, I couldn't help but think that the world would be a much nicer place if songs like Fucking Snooker Loopy didn't pop in your head at random times.

Down to Kilnsea, which means "Oven Head" in old norse, and a search for one of the Duskies proved fruitless, apart from while searching I got on a sawbill coming north then west up the Humber.  Red Breasted Merg!  Not a bad bird here.  Sort of.  Apart from seawatching when you see quite a lot this, was only my second at Spurn, the first being a female type on Beacon Ponds in 1988 found by Maurice who used to have a moustache and looked a bit like David Boon the Australian moustachio number 3 batsman.  Maurice was a good bloke.  I wonder where he is now.  I reported this too, only to find later that there'd been quite a few during the day already.
I am shit.

David Boon.  Boon rhymes with "coon" as the Australians are quite racialist.

I've just had a text off Lee from Bucks.  It said "you keep accusing me of pissing on Badgers.  This is obviously a slur and a cheap shot at me".
"It's only what I've been told, Lee, sorry of any offence" I replied.
"No, you need to stop saying on a public blog that I go into the woods at night and piss on Badgers" said Lee.
I text back.  "I've always fancied pissing on a Badger if you fancy going together later on?"
"Yeah can do" said Lee.

Job done.

Loads of people were milling around Kew and the Church and it was pretty good to be fair even though there was loads of people, loads to look at.  but even now I got away from the crowd and wandered into the churchyard only to get straight on a cracking Barred Warbler.  I'm sure it showed some barring especially on the flanks and I'm also pretty sure it had a yellow eye!  An adult!  Male?  Can anyone confirm this?  A few people got onto it in Kew just after I'd seen it so maybe someone else got on these features?  Thanks for that.

A good afternoon out.  Spurn in action.

Terrific scenes down on Clubleys as a Mealy Redpoll shows reasonably well.


Monday, 28 October 2013

Spurn Weekend Part 2 of 3

So where were we?  Spurn, 12th October, down at the narrows for a reported Lap Bunt at Post 21.  I walked upto post 21 and searched in the grass immediately surrounding the base.  There was no Lap Bunt and the radio had clearly stated Post 21.  Disgusting reporting.  I then scanned the FULL length of post 21, even on the top and there was no Lap Bunt on it.  I simply refused to search anywhere else in the area.  We did not see a Lap Bunting as it was not at Post 21 as reported.  We then decided to collect one of the 324 Great Grey Shrikes that were in the area.  First up, two at the Warren.  Easy this.  No Great Grey Shrikes were seen around the Warren.  Not one.  Arsetits.  Not to worry my beloved readers, there's another one up the road on canal.  Easy.  No Great Grey Shrikes were seen around the Canal.  We decided to move around onto the road as one had been showing from there.  There's some people there right now scoping it.  Easy.  No Great Grey Shrikes were seen from the road.  But hey, we'll just go have a look at the one from the church.  Easy.  No Great Grey Shrikes were....etc.  We tried to see a bastard Great Grey Shrike around ten times, albeit not really, really trying, but still trying, and failed miserably.  Was I bothered?

There were a million people at the Warren waiting for something to be ringed.  What have they got?  Oh, it's just a crazy bus trip from probably Shrewsbury looking at Blue Tits and Robin Redbreasts.  Red breast?  Red?  Did someone say red?  Oh fuck me, pot the reds and screw back for the yella green brarn blue pink an' black.....shit.  Stop it!  Leave me alone Chas an' Dave you cockerney cants!


As we stood at the Warren watching a Mealy Red entangled in a mist net, when we became increasingly worried that they HAD actually caught something decent and wandered over to the assembled throng to make sure.  Can a "throng" not be "assembled"?  It's a bit of a double positive isn't it?  Lee Evans pisses on badgers I've heard.  He goes into the woods at night and does it.  Anyway, Adam emerged with a Lesser and a Mealy Red.  Yeah, we'll have a look at that/them.  Then out came the Northern Treecreeper.  Not bad.

Onwards, straight to the pub for a couple of pints of refreshment.  We then retraced our steps a bit and tried Easington again but still to no avail.  We finished on Westfield lane where it seemed quieter than everywhere else so we turned back at the top of hill.  This was half an hour before a Little Bunt was found just a few hundred yards further on.  Who knows, maybe we could've found that little bastard if Secret hadn't wanted to get back home to watch Strictly Come Dancing.

No rare, not really many padders but a good day out all in all.  Fuck me, we tried.  When Spurn's like this you can't fail to be impressed.  Next time we'll find something.  IT was still out there.....would I be tempted tomorrow (Sunday)?  Will I ever get Snooker pissing Loopy out of my mind?  Will Chas and Dave ever re-release it?  Will Secret vote for Keith Chegwin to win Strictly?  Would the big one be found overnight?  I mean next morning?  To find out, tune in next time only here at Q@Spurn.

Keep it real.

Chas and Dave have re-released their seminal 
album "ain't no pleasing you" and re-titled it in support of 
the badger cull and against the antics of Lee Evans.


Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Spurn part 1 of 3 maybe.

Wednesday 9th Oct, I text Secret and said "Nah then white shite.....Leeds are shite blah blah blah...and the conditions are looking like Beyonce sat in an Amsterdam window for the weekend.   Backlit with red.  You fancy an all out assault on Spurn from first light?  Leeds are shite.....your ground is falling down blah blah blah..."
"Yep" said Secret.
Game on.
Saturday morning, 06:00 and Secret is late as he'd drank four shandies and a lime juice the previous night.  It is also pissing down.  I'm bathing in the fish pond for some reason after a night when I drank 84 pints of lager, 24 Jaeger bombs, 2 baileys and an Um Bongo, then chinned our lass for talking without permission, fucked the next door neighbour (his name eludes me) and ate a Chicken Phal, NO rice as it's for girls, a Prawn Puri (nice) and some facking diddy doughnuts.

In the get the picture....when I heard Chas and Dave's subliminal classic "Snooker Loopy".  Are Chas and Dave still under the floorboards playing The Best Of on betamax?

Der der de de de der de der de der de.
Snooker Loopy nuts are we,
Him and us and them and me,
We'll show you what we can do with a load of balls an' a snooker cue.....

Oh fuck off.  I can't have snooker bastard loopy in my head all day.  Fucking leave me alone!

Owld Willy Thorne, his hair's all gorn
and the lads all take the rise,
his oppownent said cavver ap his 'ead
cos it's shining in my eye's.....

Oh does one wake up with Snooker Loopy in one's head?
What I do know is during one night out in Sheffield with Jim, we were on a Leo Sayer and just got twatted and stumbled upon the Crucible Theatre on the way home at some ridiculous hour.  We did a jig and a sing song of Snooker Loopy in the doorway of the Crucible.

Dawn.  Just north of the gas terminal.  North easters.  Clag.  And shit.  And rain.  Mid October.
Jesus Holy Mary it's looking good.  Honestly,  IT was around somewhere, you could smell IT, but would IT be found in the gales?
The first sortee ended after four minutes with the rain too heavy for our first stint.  If we'd got soaked then (which we would've) we'd have been fucked for the day.  Back to the car.

It was hard going.  Proper hard conditions.  Bad light, wind, rain, falling leaves, you just couldn't get on anything.  If you got summat, by the time you'd got you're steamed up wet bins on it, it was gone.  By a mile.  Never mind, the big one was just 'round the corner.

We did the Gas terminal (north briefly and south side was flogged) where we both thought that the habitat and the places we'd covered must - just MUST - hold something decent.  The south side of the gas terminal is a good place.  I like it, and I know it's covered but I still think it's a little underwatched which is why we started here really.  We then did behind White Horse which I also like, then Sammy's.  To this point, totals were just common, 2 Woodcock, Ring Ouzel, 10 Chiff, a million Redwing, Brambling, Lesser Throat, 2 GSW, Crests, 20+ Alva Wag, etc.

We decided to mop up a few things to pad the day out.  First up, Long Eared Owl roosting behind the Crown.  Sorted.  Easy.  Next up Treecreeper at the Warren which, somehow, I "needed" for Spurn!
"this could be a bit tricky" said I
"I've got it!" said Cleggy, the grandson of Michael Clegg.
"Alright then" said I.
Lap Bunt at the Narrows next but no joy.

part two to follow as I'm bored...

White Shite.


Monday, 14 October 2013


Hello, and good evensong. 
I went and had a look at the Olive Backed Pipit that was at Spurn last week.  After a half hour wait, Messrs' (alas) Smith and Jones had a walk over to see where it was hiding.  They called us over as it was on view from where they were.  Good views, with sun to our backs, it was a nice bird.  Better than "nice".  Nice is just a shite description really but I'm not going to use adjectives like "lovely" or "beautiful" as they're far too crawly bumlick.  Tell it like it is, put facist bully-boy!

Darling Facist bully boy,
Give me some money.  You bastard.
May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman,
If that doesn't work, I don't know what will.

I got sidetracked.  I then did some hardcore birding dawn til dusk stomping, KICKING nettles,  THRASHING dykes, WALKING through fields, and PISSING on bushes.  Well, I did canal hedge and churchyard for an hour.  But it was an enjoyable hour, with a Firecrest c/o Mr Whitehead in canal hedge with a couple of Chiffs and 3 Goldcrests, then 3 Chiffs together in Churchyard with a Brambling.  These meagre totals are nothing compared to the last couple of days, but on that particular day, it was enjoyable.  Simple as that.  We get spoilt at Spurn when conditions are right but on a day of westerlies and sun like this, just finding these small smatterings is what it's all about. 
Or summat.
I was talking with Mr Roadhouse at churchyard as I was about to leave when the radio crackled into life:
"We've caught the fucking Pipit you set of bastards".

Honestly that's what they said.  Sort of.

So we all went down to the Obs and waited, and whilst I waited I had a quick look on the estuary off the Warren.  A "nice" male Ring Ouzel alighted from the saltmarsh and flew past us (I was talking to an old dear who was complaining that her husband had had the OBP right in a full frame shot when everyone rushed it to net the poor bastard thus losing the photo opportunity).  In the hand views later, after Mr Collins had offered those at the back (me) a better opportunity to view, and I was off on my way home.  Glory.

I've name-dropped a lot haven't I?  Wait until I tell you about the time I saw GEOFF fucking DRUETT at Notlob Abbey.  Beat that.

I'll tell you all about the weekend next time.
Oh I bet you can't wait!

I cannot think of a caption.

Just think that an Olive-Backed Pipit doesn't even know that it is called an Olive-Backed Pipit or has the latin name Anthus hodgsoni.   Just like a chicken doesn't know that it's flesh is white(ish) when cooked and delicious.  I find it....
..............sort of interesting.  I'm pissed up.


Sunday, 6 October 2013

Man U / Great Snipe

Fucking Mancs.
Manc jokes:

After 11 years of trying, David Moyes has finally got Everton above Man U.

With Liverpool fans naming Suarez And Sturridge "SAS" Man U fans have come up with their own catchy acronym: Welbeck Anderson Nani Kagawa.

Or my cockerney take on it: Ferdinand Anderson Cleverly Kagawa Ince Nani Carrick Anderson Nani Tevez Smalling.

That was a good joke.

What's the difference between a dead dog in the road and a dead Man U fan?
You'd see skid marks in front of the dog.

That was a good joke.

What's the difference between a Man U fan and a vibrator?
The Man U fan is a proper cock.

That was a good joke.

Erm.....How many Man U fans does it take to change a lightbulb?
1,550,001.  1 to change the bulb, 50, 000 to say they've been changing it for years, 500,000 to jump on the lightbulb bandwagon and 1,000,000 to buy the replica shirt.

As a few of you know, Hull City are now to be known as Hull Tiger-feet or summat.  "That's neat" I hear you cry?  Well, some of the fans are against this, as am I, and they've put together a sort of protest against said matters.  Yesterday, before our "thrilling" 0-0 drubbing of Villa, they were handing out leaflets drumming up support for said protest.  Here is an account of one of our fans handing leaflets out:

On getting a leaflet  this bloke says "Nah mate I'm not bovvered, anyway we don't want AFC we are not a AMATEUR football club! Cos that's what AFC stands for"
When his mate corrects him "that's not it it's Association football club" and he is getting laughed at he then adds "Anyway I'm Man U so I don't give a fuck about the name".
Good job he wasn't near me.

If I were ANYWHERE near this "person" I promise you I would've dotted him on the spot.
Dotted the twat.
It's just so wrong on so many levels, although not surprising.
I shall say no more on the matter except that if you know a Man U fan, simply disown him, delete his number from your phone, ignore him in pub and make sure everyone else ignores him, and even....EVEN....dare I say it.....delete him as a friend on Facebook!!!!!!  Jesus, No!!!!!!!

Spurn.  The Great Snipe was so called as it was, indeed, "Great".  It showed great, it was a great bird, in great surroundings and it was great right until the point it was partially eaten by Tiddles.  There's a moral tale here and I was going to go deep into it until I realised I'd just go right around the houses to come up with the fact that no one or thing did anything wrong.  Shall I expand?  Okay then.

I'll keep it in summary.
  • In hindsight (a wonderful thing) maybe the birding authorities should have moved the bird to somewhere more suitable.
  • They did this with a Bluetail that was underweight so it could feed up.
  • They DIDN'T do this with another Bluetail found the same day that weighed even less than the first!
  • Why?  Because it was already in an ideal area for not being disturbed (i.e. Point Dunes) I'm not sure "i.e." should be in parentheses?  Surely bad grammar?  Anyway, this shows an understanding of a bird's welfare including whether it is in a natural environment, and a healthy state, and whether it's in a natural state.
  • The Great Snipe was feeding very well.
  • It was in a natural state albeit in a strange (to us) environment.
  • It looked and seemed healthy apart from the strange location choice.
  • Why interfere with nature, David Attenburgh, lions hunting, interfering, Jimmy Savile, interfering, let nature take it's course, etc...
  • But cats aren't native.
  • Neither are lots of things but human nature has chosen to domesticate cats.
  • Just like cows.
  • But you wouldn't morally blame a farmer if a cow had trampled the Snipe would you?
  • A lot of vagrant birds are genetically fucked up.
  • Reverse passage migration.
  • What influences these mites to go the wrong way?
  • Rare pied variant form of Varied Thrush, Baillon's Crake in a kid's park, frigatebird on a boating lake in Scunthorpe, Pacific Diver in a puddle....Great Snipe running over a bloke's foot.....
  • Indeed this Snipe may not have even seen a human being before.  Certainly not the ugly, motley crew that stood before it on that day.
  • So, we could deduce that the Snipe believed it had migrated (it had, although a bit....erm....wrongly)
  • We could also deduce that the Snipe thought that this actually WAS it's wintering grounds, it'd never been there before!  How would it know?!
  • With me so far?
  • The bird was a bit fucked up.
  • A cat got it due to it's strange tendency to habit a garden.
  • Cat eats Snipe's head.
  • Natural selection at work.
  • A genetically fucked up Great Snipe's genes should not be passed onto future generations......
  • .....hence, natural selction.
  • So the decision (if there even was one) not to move this bird was morally sound. 
  • There.
  • Next.
 Bullet point points.
Coming next week, OBP shenanigans.
Well hi there.

Friday, 13 September 2013


Sometimes I wonder about things.  Like why I titled the last post "Purple Bell Ends"?  I wonder what I was thinking.  Drinking heavily before/during the composition of a post is vital, I find, to not having a clue actually what you've published to the whole world until you log on sometime the following day.

A while ago I told you all about Nicola brushing her teeth with hair removal cream and me finding it fucking hilarious having great sympathy.  It reminded me of the Veet hair removal cream reviews on Amazon which went viral, which included the excellent review "Do NOT put on knob and bollocks - Being a loose cannon who does not play by the rules the first thing I did was ignore the warning and smear this all over my knob and bollocks". 
It is good.
Hang on, I'll find you a link, that's how nice I am...........


...... Veet Reviews.......


Some other interesting reviews came to my attention the other week.  A bloke my brother knows is an alcoholic which is fine.  His family have always had money, proper money, and to try and help him, and give him something to focus on, they gave him a guest house to run in the pleasant and affluent town of Beverley, some 10 miles from me, Minster Garth, a lovely Tudor building near the minster.  Maybe knowing him makes it a bit funnier but I thought I'd share the Trip Advisor reviews with you.  There's a lot of boring reviews to trawl through but you come across the odd gem like:

When i arrived the owner was standing in the main sitting room shouting
obscenities at anyone who passed the window...

....having banged on our door 9.30 in the morning to insist we come
down to breakfast and we politely explained we were heading
into town instead, we were told to ‘f*** off and not come back’...
....As he continued to scream at the elder man, telling him to "
Be an F#$%#ing Man" simply for wearing sneakers he left
out the front, ran into traffic, smashed his glass on
 the sidewalk and proceeded to chase cows.

Just read page 4 and 5 of the reviews.  Brillog.

Link:   Loono.

Jesus fucking Christ.  I've got PGA Golf's shot tracker on on another tab and Hunter Mahan (whom I've backed) has just triple bogeyed.  A bogey is the most gutting feeling in the world ever but a TRIPLE bastard?  Fuck you all.  And fuck Hunter Mahan. 

Oh and Facebook users, that blurred bit that's just off the edge of your screen is called "real life"......


Saturday, 7 September 2013

Purple Bell Ends.

The road to Spurn is now a right bastard.  They changed the speed limits some time ago to include places that are now 40 but used to be 60, plus loads of places where the limit is now 30 and used to be.....erm......40.  Or summat.  Interesting eh?  It is now not a great drive.  It used to be, especially through that chicane near Haverfield Haven where you could floor it and see for miles and drift it round the corner.  When I had the old Vectra I could reach speeds of upto a THOUSAND miles an hour on that stretch.  But only in that dear old Vectra.  That same Vectra took us (Sats, Killer, Myself and Edward Dixon) to Forest away when they were unbeaten in three thousand games and we won one fucking nil.  That Vectra is now departed and I now own a fine Vauxhall Astra specimen.  It's blue.  You know motorbiker-types?  When motorbiker-types pass another motorbiker-type in the opposite direction they "nod" at each other in a sort of limp appreciation of one another.  What in god's name is that all about?  I had an ex-bitch of mine that was an ex-motorbiker-type-bitch and she used to do "the nod" at motorbiker-types when in a car!  Fucking loono.  Well, I've decided to do "the nod" at other Astra drivers in appreciation of what they're driving and how they drive the machine, man.  Astra drivers are now encouraged to nod at all other Astra drivers and pull in as close to the kerb as they can whenever another Astra is overtaking you thus giving him/her far too much comfortable room to complete the manoeuvre .  The overtaking Astra driver is also encouraged to hold a horizontal, casual and relaxed hand out in appreciation of you pulling in to let his/her Astra pass.  Them there motorbiker-types may not even like each other!  What are they waving at each other for?  For instance, a racialist man might not even like white people, but on a bike he gives "the nod" to a white guy!  Or vice versa of course.  Live and let live.  Even criminals are just normal people, just like you and me.  They've just got much darker skin.

My garden/house is better than Spurn.  I have no idea what is going on.  My house is in a cul-de-sac in the heart of vibrant Hessle.  The best bird I've seen in other gardens I've lived in, in Hessle, is maybe a treecreeper (April 19th 1986, Pulcroft Rd) or summat.  As I've told you before, this house has seen a Hobby in May then a PURPLE HERON which has no chance of being accepted as I was pissed when I submitted it and even swore in the description and drew a comedy penis on the sketch was all pretty amazing.  Not any more.  At Spurn, or anywhere really, a Purple Heron is pretty fucking good.  And maybe a Wheatear isn't that good?  Well, here in suburbia a Wheatear IS far better than a Purple Heron!  Honest.  Have a look at this:

Little one, Olivia asked "What's that noise?"
I thought, jesus, what is it?  It's a chat!  Never.  What?  I jumped up.
Livvy said "Is that birdy making the noise Dad?" and there on our front wall was a Wheatear!
What is going on?
I got the bins and the coverts had pale centres....don't even go there....they really did.....all in all a young Northern Wheat was in our road!  It perched up on the roof of the houses opposite then ended up perched up on the rooves at the back of the house

It's there.  On next door's bin.

Unreal shit mamma.
Then after all that shenanigans, another Hobby flew through yesterday, this time a juvenile and interestingly took almost exactly the same route that the adult had in May but I wasn't even going to mention that as I think you may not believe all these crazy records and you think I sound like Martin Stansfield.

If any birders would like to book accommodation at my brilliant house, B&B is only £25 per night outside migration periods and just £85 B&B during May and Autumn.  This includes a full English breakfast and a topless hand shandy off the missus, and only £95 WITHOUT the topless hand shandy off the missus.  Fuck me, it's worth the extra tenner believe me.


Friday, 26 July 2013

Guest Entry From No Neck Ted off Benedict

Monday 22nd

With reports of a mass movement of Two Barred Crossbills on the continent, a Bridled Tern and a Lesser Sand Plover to the north, today I decided, with rather fanciful hope, to go to Spurn with my good pal Kobayashi.  He's Russian so knows all about Two Barred Crossbills. 

I bird Easington a lot more than I used to.  I think it's since the official boundary of the recording area changed to include Easington too.  I also think it's because I know Spurn has been pretty much covered by the time I get there thus giving me less hope of finding something.  I limped around the area carefully saying "bowling green" in the deepest voice I could muster.  "Bowwwwling greeeeen."

I did Easington, to no avail.  Four Yellowhammers.  Not even the village shop was willing to join my new protection racket so I left with some coconut macaroons.  I'll show them what real will is.  A Red Backed Shrike was reported north of Easington lagoon and I was only a few minutes away so I thought I'd check it out.  Maybe some crazy day visitor had fucked up an Izzy or a Brown.  I got there to find no one around.  No Shrike.  Nothing.  It made me wonder if there really was a Red Backed Shrike that day but it's hard being a single observer when a decent record is found.
When I submitted that Alpine Swift over Gower Road the BBRC laughed at the submission as I'd done a load of childish scribble all over the paper and even drawn a comedy penis on my sketch of the bird.  I was hit with a rejection.  'Not proven' they came back with.  Who the fuck was they kidding?  Okay, I'd scribbled a bit on the description but they didn't complain back in Skokie Illinois when I scribbled on my description of a mother fucking Warbling Vireo. 
Gantlett came to us with the job, Millington got the vans, and Steve Palmer off Tilbury Road supplied the hardware, I came through with how to do it so no one got killed, but Evans... Evans put on the finishing touch. A little 'fuck you' from the five of us to the BBRC.  It was his idea to hit the BBRC Taxi Service. 

As I went back to the car near Easington Lagoon the local anti-terrorism police questioned me.  They asked me things I didn't know.  Things like why I was there and what time did I get there, I'd already told the DA everything I knew.
"Morning Sir, everything okay?" said the rozzer.
I said "Where's your head, PC Kujan? Where do you think the pressure's coming from? No Neck Ted off Benedict - or whatever you want to call him - he knows where I am right now. He's got the front burner under your ass to let me go so he can scoop me up ten minutes later outside Neppy. Immunity was just a deal with you assholes. I got a whole new problem when I post bail."
He said "So why play into his hands? We can protect you."
So I said to the rozzer "Oh, gee, thanks, Dave. Bang-up job so far. Rejections, suppression. You'll pardon me if I ask you to kiss my pucker. The same fuckers that rounded us up and sank us into this mess are gonna bail me out? Fuck you. You think you can catch No Neck Ted off Benedict? You think a guy like that comes this close to getting caught and sticks his head out? If he comes up for anything, it will be to get rid of me. After that... my guess is you'll never hear from him again even if the Bridled Tern moves south and gets relocated at Beacon Ponds."

Luckily PC Kujan ran some checks on my car and let me go.  I limped down towards the obs and noticed some guys viz-migging up on Clubleys but what the cops never figured out, and what I know now, was that these men would never break, never lie down, never.  They stay up there all day watching visible migration, they say one guy stayed up there for 14 days solid with no food apart from a packet of Golden Grahams, only coming down to run a hijacking job on a lorry load of steel just outside Queens.

At around 5pm I left the Spurn area and drove west.  The police who had stopped me earlier drove past me in their pesky range rover in the opposite direction and gave a polite wave as I went.

Fucking cops.


Sunday, 30 June 2013

Guest entry from George Michael the popstar (you know where this is going)

When news broke on Wednesday of a drake Surf Scoter at Filey, my overwhelming urge to twitch it got the better of me and I made the journey just three days later on Saturday.  I contacted a minority Bird Information Service and they said that the bird was still there!  I rang a few people on site who told me the Surf Scoter was swimming back and forth on the sea, occasionally utilising neighbouring hillocks to gain speed and drift.


It spent ages doing suchlike, in fact over two hours or more, quite often swimming to within four hundred metres of observers, Chris Birding obtaining the remarkable image below - the best image I have ever seen of the species.


At around 1220 hours, the RAF on training exercises flew low over Filey, spooking the Scoter and it dived strongly to the south. Some 45 minutes later, I and 437 others arrived from Arndale, after enduring a near 15 minute journey across from Brid Harbour in NE Yorkshire - and the mood went from exultation to despondency. Was it to be a repeat of the Spurn Icterine Warbler where both MJDRBD and I missed that mega by the same time period after trying to twitch 'on the cheap'?. Although I had seen two Surf Scoters before in Britain (both in the Northern Isles), I had resorted myself to a classic dip and was in depressive overload. A number of us split up and explored different areas but after four seconds of doing this, I eventually became so depressed (particularly after hearing of some blokes life-thrilling experiences) that I decided to wander back to town and commit suicide.
Just as I was about to jump off the cliff, a middle aged man relocated it in Filey Bay, where it had been all morning, an astonishing 20 metres south of where it had last been seen.  Pandemonium set in as we all lifted our bins to our eyeballs.  This seemed to take a lifetime but finally my bins were actually at my eyeballs.  I looked through them and there it was!  A drake Surf Scoter!  That's 178 for the year.
At last it felt good to be alive, although sleep deprivation over the past 2 hours was having some serious affect. Also, the ice cream van beckoned at 1600 hours, and reluctant as it was, we had to pull ourselves away and leave this clown-billed perspicillata for others to enjoy.
Thanks for that cracking read.
So yes, a drake Surf.  A cracking bird that shows really well for a seaduck if you know what I mean.
I 'needed' Surf for Yorkshire.  A bit tarty I know, but I was trying to think of other records.  Not that many for a no-longer-a-BBRC-rarity I believe.  Scarborough a few years ago.  Not many though.
Similarities to living people used on this web shite are merely coincidental and the authors take no responsibility if George Michael is upset.

Friday, 28 June 2013


A swift flew at a windmill, the twitchers said Damn,
The windmill was winning it's hardly suprisin'
The twitcher who missed it said, "How unlucky I am,
Those fucking windmills should go down the pan"

I saw a Swift!
Dead and ultra rare!
Where's the ultra rare?
Right there!
A needletail with his clogs popped
Well I declare!
Going flip-flappety-flap ultra rare
Oh yeah
Right there
Oh yeah...

It's been an amazing couple of weeks on the garden listing front.  About three weeks ago I was barneying on the phone with fatty my darling when a Hobby flew past only twenty yards away!  Jesus Christ!  An adult, red trousers, I interrupted fatty shouting at me on the phone, "Hobby!  Fuck me!"
She said "What?"
"Hobby! Fuck me!"
She said "What?"
"Hobby! Fuck me!"
It was like Crazy Chris Rea when he's trying to tell his bitch all about Texas and she hasn't got a fucking clue what he's on about.

I said Texas.  She said what?
I said Texas.  She said what?
I said Texas.  She said what?
I said Texas.  She said what?

At this point, if I were Chris Rea, I'd have lost it with her.  What the fuck does she not understand?  He's only telling her about Texas. 

Crazy them women.


Fast forward three weeks after the Hobby shenanigans and there I am, alone, with a three litre bottle of White Lightning, a Tesco's own lasagne warming in the microwave, piss stains on the tea towel, no kids cos they now live with their mam and "Derek", Babestation on the black and white portable, a birds eye potato waffle still floating in the sink, and a strange call from over my shoulder.  "Crayk"  I said "What?" It said "Crayk"  I said "Erm...what?". It said "Texas" I said "What?".  It said "Texas"..... I was skywatching, as I always do.  It was a Purple Heron!  Shit me!  Quite low.  Erm..... shit!  I watched it until out of view then wrote a description down on my phone:

Streaking on the breast down the full front (what?!) rufous on breast.  stripey fucker along neck and head.  distinct yet subtle.  neat maybe better description.  call "crayk" repeated four times.  maybe crek.  short.  underwing uniformly dark.  flight quicker than Grey.  slim.  looked like it was going down near the new flood area til mobbed by 2 herring gull which looked only 10-20% smaller when together.  the bird took rapid evasive action with head and neck strangely out, neck almost anhinga like.  that's how I would describe I but i'm a touch mental.

That's what I wrote.  And that's what my official description is going to be when submitted. 

Best I've had at Spurn just lately was one of many Red Backed Shrikes.   And an Eider Ducky.  Left.
Not North.  Just "Left".

Nicola is out tonight.  Earlier, I had a quick tidy of the bathroom cabinet.  I found something that looked just like toothpaste.  I picked it up thinking that we've got more toothpaste than I thought.  Same lid and that.  Same tube and that.  I stood it up like a toothpaste-type-thing.  Several hours later and she comes out of the bathroom shrieking that she'd just cleaned her teeth with hair removal cream!!! ha ha ha ha ha ha at least her minge will smell minty ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  and she won't have hairy teeth anymore.


Sunday, 12 May 2013

Hull City's final day round up

Hull City needed to match Watford's score last Saturday.....

As we approached the stadium, I told my Dad about the Brentford/Donny penalty/Brentford promoted if they score/miss/Donny down the other end/score/champions/in the last minute sketch from League 1 the week previous.  We then said "there'll be twists and turns today but hopefully not quite like that!"

Tempting fate?  Hell yeah.

Kick off, we're up as it stands but we need to win.  Anything less, I think we've blown it.
First goal in either our game or Watford's would echo around the oppositions ground within minutes and give the other a big lift or a big downer.  First goal critical.
Halfway through first half a whisper goes 'round the ground that Watford are now down the their third choice 'keeper and 15 minutes behind us due to the injury!  This fact made it all very interesting later on.  Then Cardiff started singing "1-0 to the Watford.....1-0 to the Watford..." yeah right!  Or is it?  Ha ha ha, yeah, very good.  Sheep shaggers.  Ten minutes later, Cardiff started singing "2-0 to the Watford.....2-0 to the Watford..." very droll....great interplay between both sets of fans that remained throughout the day.
Another murmur from South East corner gathered momentum around the ground......Eddie's ringing me.......yes, Leeds have scored!  We're up as it stands.  Pandemonium at City over a fucking dirty white shite goal!  Funny though.  The irony was not lost anywhere in the ground.

City sing "We all love Leeds scum, we all love Leeds scum, we all love Leeds scum...." the paradox makes everyone smile as they sing it.  Cardiff join in with "We all hate Leeds scum...." and the atmosphere progresses.

Half time, City 0, Chardiff 0.  We're up as it stands.

On the concourse at (our) half time, Watford equalise via information from Super Saturday on Sky.

"We all hate Leeds scum, We all hate Leeds scum, We all hate Leeds scum...."
All sang with still a wry smile from everyone and a sudden sense that a goal either way and we've blown it.

A Chardiff goal 5 minutes into the second half and we have, indeed, blown it.  As it stands.  And it's Frazier fucking Campbell to cap it all!  Bastard.  News would've reverberated around Vicarage Road, a big boost to Watford confidence.  We're NOT up as it stands.  Shit.

Whisper from North East Corner goes 'round the ground.....Leeds have scored again!  Have they?  Erm....really?  Rang Eddie.  They don't know about it.  Shite.  Leeds haven't scored.  They never do.

Ten minutes of doom and despair is suddenly rectified with a Protchthvwitzz equaliser!  Crazy scenes again!  But after the last 15 minutes we've witnessed, the realisation is that things can change pretty quickly.  Still nervy.

Nerves are somewhat restored with a scrambled shitty goal from one time boo boy (he WAS shit) Paul Mcshane!  Pandemonium as we sort of realise that we're up.  Nearly.  But it's been nearly for three weeks now.

baby, baby!

Jesus Holy Mary Mother of God.

80 minutes gone.  We're sorted.  Well in control.  Strolling to promotion. 

Minute of injury time left.  City going mental all around.  Probably get another one to seal it.......Prottchstchszvwvitsctz goes down in the box!  Penalty!  Yes, that's it, it's done, yes, get in you bastards, yes......come on....people on the pitch....they think it's all over and that...

At this point, we KNEW we were up.  We KNEW.  But we weren't.....

Meyler had the ball to take the pen in Koren and Brady's absence.  With people still on the pitch, players ask who should take it.  Word on the street now says that the DVD of Protcschwvshcthwitz shows him as the penalty taker for his former German club.  Bruce goes with this and orders Protcschthwitchitchsz take the pen.  Protcscsrwitsz is shite by the way.  We're up, done. 

Protschshwitszch's penalty is saved!  Bastard wank sticks!  Actually it doesn't matter.....34 seconds later.....penalty to Cardiff!  Good lord above!  Brentford/Donny......oh shit, Watford still have 15 minutes to score against a very very very shit fucking L***s side!  We've fucked it again, again, again.  Again.  Even Cardiff, who had been celebrating with us, didn't really react to their pen and didn't even take the piss that we're now "staying down".  Everyone looked at each other.  I mean everyone.  I looked everyone in the eye.  Everyone in the ground.  Everyone looked at each other.  Time stood still.  Everyone looking at everyone else.  Spellbound.  Everyone was looking at everyone else not knowing what the fuck was going on.  In the eye.  I was looking at everyone else.  Everyone else was looking at me and everyone else.  Everyone else just looked at everyone else.  It was not pandemonium as everyone else sat staring at everyone else.  In the eye.  It was awkward for everyone.  I had a particularly awkward moment when I looked at the bird sat in E3, Block 6, Row 4, Seat 14 as I'm sure I'd fucked about with her at some point in my life but couldn't remember where or when.  Or her name, obviously.  The bloke in North Stand who was sat in N1, Block 3, Row 8, Seat 2 can just fuck off and stare at some fucker else.  "What you fucking looking at?" I shouted across the stands  to N1Block3Row8Seat2 boy.  "Everyone's looking at everyone" he shouted from North Stand as it carried across the silence.  "Alright then".
That showed him.
Fourteen hours later once everyone had looked at everyone else, in the eye, and their penalty was taken.  Goal.  Shit.  The whole ground looked at each other not knowing quite what that meant.  Everyone looked at everyone else again.  In the eye.  Time stood still. 

We all looked at each other until it became uncomfortable and broke eye contact.  Another 14 hours later, although this time I blanked E3, Block 6, Row 4, Seat 14 burger, and we all realised that Watford definitely did still have 15 minutes to score against the uncle fuckers that are L***s.

Holy mother of God's big bangers.

There were about 25 thou there and at this point I reckon around 10,000 people were stood up on their phone getting direct updates from someone who could see a TV.  I rang Paul O'Grady's bitch as he was bound to be watching a TV.  What a good joke.  Great joke that one.  Unbelievable gag that one.  Thanks to Pauline for sending that one in.  Keep em coming in, a new fountain pen is on it's way.

A murmur......right 'round the ground....Leeds have scored!  They're shit!  But they've scored!  That's it, we're up!  As long as we fuck Man U next year.  Sorted.  "We all love L***s, scum, we all loves L***s scum..." reverbree.....reverbarbat....reverbibr.......echoed 'round the ground.  Smiles again.  That was close. 

Crazy day in all seriousness.  Great day.

Hindsight says that it was the best way to go up after a rollercoaster the time it felt like I just wanted an easy 2-0 thanks!  Glory.  You L***s bastards will be trying to get tickets to see the Tigers next season.  Don't.  My L***s "friends" tried to take all the glory, saying that if they hadn't scored that winner we'd still be in the Championship.  Nah, we we're up without it thanks.....come on City....

S. G.


Tuesday, 7 May 2013


I haven't been able to blog lately.  Some of you know why.
But I've popped back into blogland just for me. 

I haven't been able to blog lately?  Surely that should read 'lately, I have been unable to blog'?  Or are both correct?  Not really bothered, like.

When in Bordugal for the Euros in '04, we followed Engerland obviously and ended up in several places where you'd just never go.  One night of high alchoholic intake we were in a bar in which there was:

a) the second tallest man in Bordugal
b) the tallest man in Bordugal's brother, and
c) a live band.

And that is all absolutely true.  Although a) and b) is the same thing.  Person.

We watched and listened to the live band, they played a bit of soft rock type shite and the likes of Steppenwolf, you know the type of gig.  Upside down Ollie and I were perched up near the set at the end of the gig.  The band had a random, bits-and-pieces sort of bag.  The sort of holdall where you put odd drumsticks, Powerslave-type masks, plectrums and sweat bands for the sweaty bassist.
The bag was black.
On the side, in printed white letters, it read:

Rock Bag.

Rock bag!  ROCK.....................bag.  The sort of bag in which you put Quo, Motorhead.......erm......Saxon.....just fucking ROCK things alright?  Like Lemmy and dry ice.  The drummer came off stage and garbled something in Borduguese and a roadie asked him where he should put something ROCK like spare petula oil and he replied (with a massive pause in the middle) "Rock...............................bag".

So what turns up at Spurn?
Oh fuck me, you've guessed it......


Quo.........Motorhead etc....

Colin Occupantsofinterplanitarycraft

Rock..............Thrush.  Female Rock Thrush are easy to identify with their scaly bastard plumage, a red tail and purely mental back-combed hair like Whitesnake (Rock).
Mr Hutt and his thousand eyes were, again, responsible for this second record for Spurn.  I missed the first record back in '84 due to fingering Caz Tanton in her money box beneath her "Thursday" knickers, and the fact that I was only twelve and unable to drive.  Should Twelve have a capital?  Don't think so.  I'll go back and edit it. 

A thought for our little neice Evie if you will.


Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Year-Tick Work Action-Packed Post

Word up home boys.  I've been installing some cabins onto a building site down in Sarf Landan where they are about to flatten a load of high rise flats.  I managed to year tick Ring Necked Parakeet - loads of them.  The site gaffer commented "fackin vermin they are" as he was a cockerney chap, to which I launched in to explain that while they clearly aren't a native British bird, they have a self sustaining population and before I blurted out the phrase "Category C" I managed to realise that I was stood before several broad hairy stinking builders.  In rigger boots.  On a butch building site.
Talking about non-native bird species and knowing such dross as they are established enough to be recognised as a bonafide British bird (almost) albeit in Category C is probably a no-no......

"....fucking vermin...." muttered I.  "Anyone see that program about lorries the other night?" I said, changing the subject as real men always talk about things like lorries.  I know one bloke whose first (and last) day on a building site surrounded by sweaty horrible bastard hairy butch men in rigger boots consisted of him opening his packed lunch up at dinner and pulling out........a 6 pack of Jam Tarts!  The hairy stinking butch builder-types let him know that it's probably not the most butch pack-up to reveal on site.  Chips?  No problem.  You've got to eat them without washing your hands though.

Will it be chips or jacket spuds? 
Will it be salad or frooowzen peas?

I also helped to install some cabins onto a site on Worthing seafront, surrounded by  I was up a ladder with a four tonne cab being lifted over my head by a crane when I noticed something "chat-like" flick around the corner.  Black Red?!  Really?  I leaned out beyond the bottom cabin to try and see where it went.  The four tonne thing over my swede can wait.  Poor Health and Safety skills, but it looked like a Black Red so I think you're allowed to.  I did not see the chat-like thing again until the next day when a dapper, spanking male Black Red flew towards me and perched up not far away.  It payed no attention to the bright orange high-viz jacket I....

....was wearing.....

......and it came closer still and perched close enough for me to see brown tertials and primaries, so as a first winter (2nd calendar year) male?  Bonser.



Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Guest Entry from John

I've just been looking through my drafts that get saved when I either don't finish a post or don't think it's worthy (yeah right) of posting to the general public when I came across this.  I cannot remember writing it so I was clearly drunken.  Anyway, have a look:

Following on from Lee's guest entry (here) and Dave the Lorry Driver's guest entry (here) today we've got someone from the world of fishing to give us an insightful account of his day on the river Trent yesterday.

Now then.
My name's John and I live in Nottingham.  Not too far from my house is a river called the Trent and it has some fish in it.  Yesterday I decided to go down to the Trent fishing as it's not far from me.  Fishing's something I love and I've been doing it for as long as I can remember.  Some of you people interested in birds will relate to me in that it's a great escape from every day life and it's just great to be out in the fresh air in the peaceful, idyllic and often beautiful natural surroundings.  I loaded my rod, bait and hooks and that onto the car.  It's not far to the Trent from my house.  After driving not too far I arrived at my 'peg', that's what we in the fishing world call it. I unpacked my rod, bait hooks and that, and started getting set up.  Then disaster!  I'd forgotten my little chair that I sit on!  Good job it's not too far to my house, heh heh.  I had to pop back for it.  I returned to the Trent pretty soon cos it's not too far away and unpacked my rod, bait and hooks and that again.  Finally, I was set up.  Great.  Looks a nice day. Nice and calm, not too many fishing.  Looking good.  A Swan swam upto me so I fed it some bread then discarded a couple of hooks and some line directly into it's stupid fucking orange beak.  That'll teach the fucker.

Finally, I cast out......waited.......waited....then caught a fucking FISH!  Then I cast out again and waited.....then waited..... then caught a fucking FISH!  I cast out again and waited, and caught a fucking FISH!  I cast out a bit further this time and waited and waited and I caught a fucking FISH!  Then I waited again and caught a FISH!  Then I caught another FISH!  Then I caught a FISH!  Then I caught another fucking FISH!  What a great day.

Well, thanks for that John, sounds like a great fucking hobby.


Well was it really worth posting?  I'm not sure.  But anyway, it pads this shite out a bit doesn't it?  As for birding, I have nothing to say.  As for Christmas, I have nothing to say.  As for New Year, not a jot.  It seems every year of blogging I refuse to be drawn into the merriment of Yuletide with absolutely no Christmas messages for you all.  Does this make me a miser? 


Thursday, 3 January 2013

Black Hole Shenanigans

I'm sorry I haven't bothered you for some time.  Bitterly sorry.  My lack of bothering you lied with the supposed "end of the world" and my deep apathy for the whole idea.  The Mayan calendar?  I did not post for a while as if the "end of the world" was REALLY nigh then what's the point of posting?  It would be a waste of everyone's time and that time would be precious to us all at that point in the universe. Then I realised that I really didn't believe the notion of the "end of the world" just because some marginal Guatemalan pseudo-religion's calendar was about to finish, but THEN I was in no way going to post such apathy before the 21st of December, no way Jose.  I mean, what if I berated the Mayans and all their misadventure and claimed that it was all nonsense only to be proved wrong?  How would I look then?  Just as a huge asteroid broke through the Earth's atmosphere and hurtled down to wreak devastation and the end of civilisation, you'd be thinking "That Q hasn't got a fucking clue what he's talking about" and you would've been right.  As the Swiss scientists (et al) were colliding particles searching for dark matter and particles such as the Higgs Boson and accidentally created a black hole thus creating an infinite gravitational pull which would ultimately condense the world (with you inside) down the size of a small pea, they all laughed as they were stretched infinitely and chuckled "That Q looks very stupid now, ja?"

So I couldn't win.  You see?

I was gonna do a "joke" that the leader of the Mayans is Simon Salad Cream, who has a sort of lumpy face, but then realised that:

a)   No one would get it
b)   The "joke" is ripped hopelessly from Viz, and
c)   It's not really a very good joke.

So I didn't

Hang on.  I think I'm onto something about black holes....

.....hang on, bear with me......

.......right.  Right, I think I've got it.  A black hole is created when a giant star becomes so massive it's gravity outweighs it's mass and it implodes under its own gravity, sort of.  Right?  So, whatever the Swiss scientists could ever do, it couldn't add any mass at all to the mass already inside the atmosphere, right?  If you have a ball that weighs one kilogram whatever you did inside it wouldn't add mass would it?  Unless you poured some sugar in.  So there.  The Black hole theory disproved, just like I proved that Time Machines will NEVER exist (click here).  Do I win a prize?

Or actually they may be thinking that a relative black hole could be created within our time/space but only relative on a very small scale?  No, it can't be right, Quantum Physics works for the very large AND the very small.  I know I talk some shite but if anyone can comment further, please do.

Example of a Black Hole.
Although this is of course an artists impression and
not a very accurate impression of one at that.
So there.

Another example of a Black Hole,
Our lasses fucking purse.