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(Friday) As a kid I remember being dissapointed that not all Japanese people knew Kung Fu...

The blog continued its rise to glory this week as it got me admitted to one of my favourite comedy clubs for free. Guestlist status via blogging! That's surely got to be something of a first? Certainly a first for this blog. The club in question was Zumeba, a place which I've given some pretty good reviews to in the past on here. It really is a great club and I strongly reccommend you go if you get the chance. Oddly enough, this time round the place was packed out, usually there's only around 40 or so people. Perhaps this is a result of all my fantastic reviews on here? More likely thanks to the students being back and that old fashioned 'word of mouth' thing which tends to do well for stuff like that.

I really enjoyed the show but as I watched it I started to get the fear about what's happening later next week. I'm doing some more stand-up. This is a bit of a worrying prospect, mainly because I'm not very good at it yet. Comedy is a very easy thing to have an opinion on but an incredibly difficult thing to do well. Here are some of my 'hilarious' jokes:

"I've cut my hair recently. I grew it long to look like John Lennon, ended up looking like Meatloaf..."

My girlfriend hates the above joke but it gets a laugh more often than not. The thing about it is that it's rooted in truth. I've often flirted with long hair and I do look a little bit like Meatloaf when it's framing my chubby facial features. When I was at secondary school I distinctly remember queuing up for school dinners with my nice long hair thinking about what a rockstar I looked when I heard a girl cry out, "fu#king hell, he looks like Meatloaf!". The whole group of girls there all started pi#sing themselves laughing. Reality bites.

Another of my 'hilarious' jokes:

"I know what you're thinking, you're thinking, no you don't"

This is a new joke. I'm not sure if it will work. I've told it to a few people with varying results. I'm also not entirely sure it's my joke. I'm pretty sure it is, but it's quite neat and not really in my sort of style*. I haven't consciously stolen it but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that I had. Obviously this would mean I'd have to stop doing it. Anyway, it might not be funny so it won't matter.

I think that's enough of my 'hilarious' jokes for one entry.

Oh dear.


*Listen to me. What a c#nt. I've done about two gigs and already I've got a style? I deserve to fail. I'm doomed. No I'm not. It'll be fine.

Shooty so loud I can hear you

Feeling ill and pretending you don't. It's a classic male persuit. I fell foul of it yesterday as I went into work and then had an awful show, full of little f#ck ups. As I blundered through it I got more and more annoyed at my ill body for not getting on and doing things properly.

My symptoms weren't major, just little things like a slightly sore throat and a bit of a headace. The cumulitive effect of them though was a dozy version of myself who couldn't do even the most basic tasks. I should have called in sick. Apparently the reason blokes do this, feel ill and then pretend they're not, is because we're worried it threatens our status as the alpha male? That annoyed me when I read it as I try very hard to not be the "alpha male". I think anything which denotes an "alpha male" status is surely to most people an indication that you're a tw#t. Big expensive car? T#at. No question. Like football? You're a t#at. Particularly if you are vocal in your support of the game. You should actually be ashamed of liking it. A little like me and my enjoyment of the TV programme Big Brother*.

I watched some stupid programme recently about male grooming. In it two lads were trying to set up some shop or other which sold perfume and so forth for men. The "expert" on the programme was giving them advice on how best to appeal to the male market.

"Oh, stick a rugby ball in the window, and a sports car," he prattled. The idea being that stupid alpha males will go; "oh, a Rugby ball, I'd best go in here and look at all the perfume. Hey, hang on a minute, a f#cking sports car as well! I'm going in there to buy perfume and I won't look gay either. Brilliant."

Look at all the s#it they sell to people using football. I'm not just talking about products here, I'm talking about concepts as well. Nationalism, agression, leadership. Makes me sick. I hate alpha males and all they get upto. They're an absolute pain in the left b#llock.

I recently had a conversation about this with a friend and when I told them I didn't like and/or need "alpha males" in my little life they told me that was because in doing so I was trying to be one. I just 'didn't like being beaten at the alpha male game'. Fortunately I worked out that wasn't true. I'd love to explain why but my food has just pinged on the microwave and I'm still feeling a bit poorly.

*Sadly the logic of my rants is ruined by the fact I like and am friends with people who own big expensive cars, love football and do various other "blokey" things. Unfortunately the logic of my rantings is frequently damaged by the small number of friends I have. In an ideal world they'd all totally subscribe to my bulls#it and act like some sort of cult. Sadly I've not managed to get that kind of deal going since I left primary school. Still, my devious plan will come together in the end.

Apparently my personality is like acid. I have the following proof:

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict.
One moment you're in your own little happy universe...
And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

Whose who's who?

I never used to have any problem having a wee wee. It might be that I'm getting older. It might be that I'm getting less comfortable standing next to strangers with my winky out. It might be some sort of medical problem. I went to the toilet recently and to my horror discovered the urinals were in a little tiny corner of the room. There was only room for two people at the most. As I stood there, inevitably some other bloke decided to join me. He was a jockular f#cker;

"Wehey! It's a tight fit in 'ere innit mate?" he giggled.

"Um.. yep. Yep." I said in as polite and friendly a manner as possible. Then I looked at the wall infront of me and knew in that instant that I couldn't pee. He'd distracted me. I kept thinking he'd start chatting again.

"You not having a p#ss then mate?" he'd say. Fortunately he didn't but the damage was done. I just stood there, winky in hand feeling like I was waiting at a bus stop. I tried to force it. I've no idea how that's possible. I'm not sure it is. In fact the effort seemed to stifle it.

Matey next to me was p#ssing away like a b#stard. He was having a great time. He even started humming a tune to himself. Then I realised that due to the geography of the room I'd have to squeeze past him and the other bloke who had just started waiting behind me if I wanted to leave. This was turning into a nightmare.

"I think in future I'm going to do sit down wee wees in public toilets," I thought to myself as I waited for matey to finish up and leave.

I think failing to perform at the urinal is equal in shame value to failing to stand tall for the lady. I look forward to my winky doing that in later life as well.


(Tuesday) Why would a cog feel like a cog?

I've not moved from this spot for 6 and a half hours. I've been playing Civilisation IV. Initially I wasn't allowed to buy it. My girlfriend wouldn't let me. She knows what I'm like with these things. In fact I think I'm still not allowed to buy it and I've broken some sort of law in doing so. It was no use though, in the end I had to. I've been looking for one of those walkmen things to play my MP3s on*. Can't find the one that I want. Stumble into a second hand shop and there it is, Civilisation IV, it's glowing in the room. It's talking to me, "I'm only £18 second hand, buy me big boy, buy me!".

I can't resist. I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't. I'm running out of the shop, cold sweat dripping off my forehead. Racing along with my cargo in the back seat of the car. It even says on the packaging; "Expect to be addicted for the next 30 years". Yeah baby! That's what's happening!

In case you're not familliar with the game I'll just explain it a little. You take a civilisation from 'caveman times' all the way up to modern day. You make all the important descisions about how its going to progress. Who it's going to be friends with. Who it's going to war with. You even get to choose what religion you want to follow. Genius.

I've spent about 6 hours on it non-stop.

Apparently there's a lot of simmilarity between the neuro-chemical patterns found in the brain of a drug addict and a computer game addict. This story here from New Scientist has more.

So I'm a druggie now. A druggie who's hooked on pretending to conquer the world. In his mind.

Like all good druggies I tried to get my flatmate hooked on it today. We loaded it onto his laptop and he had a go. I think he enjoyed it. If I'm going down with this badboy, then so is he!! I did the same thing when I was a smoker. Give him a fag here and there. Now I've quit and he's still in the "casual smoker" stage.

Does that make me a bad person?


*My little pledge of a few days ago has been totally f#cked by the discovery that there actually are "walkmen" which do this. It's a brand name which they didn't like to see slip. Ruined.

Too many Alpha males in this world. How about they all f#ck off and let us live in peace?

I've added a Poll to the sidebar. It's there to help me suss out how I can keep improving this site. We're getting a lot of traffic at the moment and I'm keen to keep it going. If you click it and it gives you loads of hassle, pop-ups and s#it pop a note in the comments section and I'll think about removing it. It should be cool but you can never tell. It was a free thing. Today I've been adding loads of ad filters and a flash animation blocker to my Mozilla Firefox browser.

I've absolutely had it up to here with agressive sale tactics. Sat there trying to sort out some stuff on my 'puter today and my never used landline lights up! Now, this thing is obviously X-directory. It's not supposed to be registered on any databases. I ALWAYS tell them I DO NOT want sales calls yet here it is, ringing away. I knew as soon as it rang that it wasn't anyone I knew. I thought I'd heard it this morning but just ignored it. There it was ringing.


Let me just make this clear, I do not use our phone, ever. I only had it plugged in after I made a call to BT to fix my computer. I answered it in a little bit of an agressive manner:

"Hello, how have you got this number?"

"Hello sir, is that Mr Margerrison?"

"Yes it is, I don't want to buy anything. How did you get this number?"

"Erm, I, err."

"No, how did you get this number?"

"I'm not trying to sell anything, I just. Do you have a mobil-"

"I'm not interested, let me ask you again, how did you get this number? Either BT have given you it OR you've got it illegally. There's no other possibility. How did you get my number?"

"We get them from a database. I -"

"You must have got it illegally then. Go find out how you got it and call me back."

"I can't do that sir I -"

"Well lemme tell you something, I'm unplugging this phone. Never call this number again."

"Do you want to get a discount on your mobile phone bill?"

"No, goodbye."

I'm in town today and I'm stopped by someone trying to sell me something. Arrgh! I used to chat to these people who were "carrying out surveys", not anymore. They're just trying to drain more money out of your a#se. Taking your money and giving you nothing you want in return. Stealing. That's what it is. If a burgler robs your stuff from your house and does a big t#rd in the middle of your front room has he sold you that t#rd? No, he hasn't. He's robbed you blind. Should be illegal all these sales people. Probably is illegal. C#nts.

And another thing...


Scrap muncher. (Sunday)

I watched the film "Talk Radio" today with my girlfriend. We'd seen the play upon which it is based during our adventures in Edinburgh and thought it was great. Unfortunately the Oliver Stone directed nonsense we endured today isn't. My expectations were too high for a start. They'd been raised by the play. I'd expected something along the same lines but sadly it wasn't to be. It just turned out to be a bit depressing. All the wit and accuracy of the original had been drained from it.

Also, it was full of those stupid silly errors which they always put in films or TV shows about radio. They cut to a commercial break then wander off out of the studio, have a heated conversation with someone and get back in time to switch their mic on and tell people what's what. They don't wait for the end of the break, they just crack open the mic and get going. Stupid.

How would you be able to walk round the studio and broadcast without a mic and headphones? You couldn't. It's a stupid idea. Don't do it in your film. Arrgh! I end up feeling like a Doctor who watches Casualty or ER or something. Rolling my eyes and getting annoyed at the technical f#ck ups.

It's one of the reasons I have difficulty watching Frasier. A great TV comedy. Ruined by him not wearing headphones while he does a show. Stupid.

Also, he goes "hey you guys out there, hey listeners". What the f#ck? When does a radio person EVER do that? You talk to one person. No one says, "you guys out there". Silly.

If it had been a great film I'd have forgiven it these errors. It wasn't it was s#it.


On the other hand my flatmate Matt Mackay managed to put a smile on my face by getting himself locked out of our flat. He did this by losing his keys on a night out. Genius. As a consequence I had to cut short my visit to Manchester and get home earlier than usual. He spent the night in a B&B and then went to Valley Centertainment to play on arcade machines. He needs some sort of medal for his behaviour.


Yak yak, etc. etc. The Enigma Of The Weeping Taxi Driver.

Hope my mate James Piekos gets back into the UK okay. He's gone on holiday to Thailand. I've hectored him in the past with my narrow views on intercontinental travel. Why would I want to go getting involved in other coutries? Get all wrapped up in s#it I know nothing about and/or don't understand? Horrible idea. This country is great thanks, I'll stay here. Anyway I'm sat watching telly last week and I see a news story about a revolution and the implementation of martial law there and almost fall off my seat.

"Sh#t? The poor f#cker's going to be dead for sure. I'd best text him."

Here's his reply...

"Hey man! First we heard about coup was when we got a load of texts. Not seen or heard a thing ourselves, and having a fantastic time. On my way to Chang Mai in the north on night train. Not back in bangkok till end of holiday, so should be fine. Will let you know if anything kicks off though. J"

Good. So he's okay. Still my point remains, why would I want to go anywhere else other than this country? Not interested. Then again I'm becoming less happy with England these days. There seems to be a nasty rise in nationalism and racism at the moment. It's obviously triggered in part by idiots like the ones I write about here and recent turns in international politics. That's no excuse though. I recently noticed that there's a lot of England flags up around Sheffield. I don't know why but the sight of my country's flag just depresses me. I actually consider it not very patriotic to wave it around. It's just not how we do things in this country. It's the sort of thing Europeans do. You know, the colonies. That lot.

I had my computer fixed by a bloke recently over the phone. He fixed it using a remote hook up. So he's sat there in his call centre, accessing my computer and fixing it for me. Amazing!* It was an amazing service, only ten pound a month from BT. I'd heartily reccommend it to you if you're a total f#cknut on the 'puter like me. Anyway, this bloke was originally from India. He was a little touchy about this though as when I asked him whereabouts he thought I was under the impression he was IN India. Presumably people have flipped out about this in the past.

"Paying £10 a month to be put through to some call centre in India??"

As he fixed my computer there were moments of obvious downtime as the machine loaded stuff up and so forth. During these we got to chatting about stuff after I overheard him mention he was feeling a bit poorly to one of his co-workers. I asked him what was wrong and initially he didn't explain much. Later on when we'd been on the phone for about an hour or so he explained that his wife had recently been the victim of a couple of thugs on a train. They'd held her on the carriage, not letting her get off at her stop and then poured beer on her head as they told her she "shouldn't be in this country". She was reduced to having to tell these fools that she wasn't a Muslim as other people on the train ignored what was happening to her. It made no difference as they were out to get their kicks. In the end a female ticket inspector got involved and she was able to escape. The whole story was so bleak it really got me down.

I hope they catch the c#nts and lock 'em up. F#cking disgrace. This country needs to sort itself out a bit. I've absolutely no idea how.

Perhaps I should organise a revolution like in Thailand.


*To only me. Everyone else I've told about this has gone, "yeh, so what I knew about that years ago". Fine, so did I. Infact my old producer Ben used to hook up our computers on the talshow years ago. It's still amazing. To think he's there miles away, fixing things. Like he was in the room. That is amazing. S#rew you if you think it's not. You're too cool for your own good.

I can't get over how nice it is to have a fixed computer....

Went to Zumeba to see Giggle and Funk. The compare even mentioned my weblog and this review, against my predictions. It's amusing that this means he read it. It's a oddly positive review though. I sincerely think it's one of the best comedy nights in the UK. It'll go all wrong one day, like everything that's good in the world, but at the moment I love it. We had a great night this time round as well. Two acts really stood out as great. One of them was called Susan Hanks. She was very assured and funny, difficult to compare to anyone else. She had some good solid gags in her set* and avoided the obvious. I'd see her again.

The headliner was awesome. He reminded me of an american comedian called Sam Kinnison. His name was Alex Laserev and here's a link to his myspace. Don't go there actually. Those sites are bad news. They can make even the coolest person in the world look like a total twonk. Here's an example of what I'm talking about from his page:

"drop me a line! Peace! ... Alex (I should point out, I don’t actually say “peace” in real life, it’s just an internet thing"

Precisely. He's aware that he's doing it. It's because he's on myspace. Apolitical inhuman nonsense. It degrades a person's identity by forcing them to write a little advert for themselves**. Myspace is bad. My girlfriend has one. I told her not to. I was toying with the idea and then this comedian to whom I am linking revealed that a myspace account was actually deleted because it had loads of conspiracy theory stuff on it! Ye Gods! That is EXACTLY the sort of s#it I would expect from such a site.

Anyway, despite coming across as a bit of a pr#ck on myspace he was very good onstage. Very good indeed. Big smile, and a brutal "we're all f#cked" message. He even referenced the film Loose Change which I keep hammering on about. It's in the sidebar to this blog, go watch it! I was really surprised when at the end he asked how many people had seen it and only me and my girlfriend had.

I live in a little conspiracy theory bubble, totally detached from my peers. It's scary.

Go watch that film.


*In checking her name I've discovered that she's playing at The Lescar in Sheffield this week on Thursday the 28th, with the fantastic Eddy Brimson[backlink to review of him] as well. Now that's a f#cking amazing line-up. If you live locally go and see that. You won't regret it.

** So what's the difference between that and blogger? I'll tell you, blogs are more real. Read this entry and tell me I'm writing an advert for myself.

My faith in computers restored after abloke at BT hooks up with me over the internet and fixes it. He was a legend.

Taking my weight watchers uber-seriously now. I'm on it in a big way baby. Can't believe I put on two pounds yearsterday. Feeling really fat now.

Doing research for my show today, looking for some "News They Didn't Use" and I stumbled on this story* about a bloke who had a penis transplant after he lost his own one in a horrific accident. Left only with a useless stump he was unable to urinate and enjoy a healthy normal sex life. His doner came in the form of a 22 year old brain dead bloke after his family gave permission. Apparently the man and his wife were initially happy with it but ultimately after two weeks they had it removed due to "psychological complications"!




That's insane. Imagine that. You've got some other bloke's todg#r dangling twixt your legs. Do you think he and his wife had sex? With some other bloke's c#ck? Apparrently it was fully functional. Do you think that the decision was mutual? Maybe they had sex and the wife liked it, you know, a bit too much...

"You never used to enjoy sex as much as that honey."

"Erm... yeah, I just... erm..."

"Sc#ew it, I'm taking this thing back. I'd rather not have one than suffer this sort of humilliation."

Can you imagine? You've got a new winky, you're looking at it, it's someone elses but it's now sewn onto you. Bonkers.

So many questions. I want more answers.

Any chance I can get Linford Christie's when he's done with it?


*This link might send you to a page asking for your email address. Lie to it. I said my email address was and it still let me through.

The moral of the story then? Don't do stupid s#it. Even if some c#nt's filming you for a TV show. It's still dangerous.

B#llocks! I've put two pounds on at weight watchers. Further to that I spent around five f#cking hours pissing about with my computer today. I've no idea what's wrong with it but every attempt I make to fix it seems to make it worse. In the end I rang my Mum and asked her. She's a bit of a whizz on computers.

She kept asking me about it and told me, "there's something wrong with it". Followed by, "it's probably something you've done". Brilliant.

We then buggered about with it and seemed to make it better and worse at the same time.

By the end of it I was non-the-wiser and I switched it off in despair.

Amusingly I recently saw Jon Snow interviewing a computer on telly. The pitch was that it had won some compettition for being a realistic conversationalist*. It mimicks human characteristics which it has picked up online. It was very like the one I chatted to recently. You know, in that it was s#ite.

The problem with computers is that we give them too much credit. If there's one thing I've learned today it's that. They sound like a great idea then when push comes to shove they start f#cking up on you. We're too keen to believe in them. Or at least I am anyway.

Conspiracy theorists rant and preach about a time in the future when we'll all of us be forced to have microchips planted into our arms and then we'll be hooked up to some central grid. This dystopian view of the world comes with the suggestion that these complex high tech computer chips and systems would be used to control our every thought. Sounds scary right? Utter b#llocks. Surely by now we all know that the reality is we'd have faulty software stuck in our ar#e which didn't know anything at all, let alone have the ability to actually do anything.


*It? What the f#ck am I on about? Listnen to me. The creator of the programme had won the competittion. It had won nothing. It can't win things. Or can it? I'm confused.

Spit in the bloody bin you fool.

In the gym changing rooms. Bloke comes in looking like a bit of a tough guy with expensive shades on. His mobile starts ringing and the wackyness begins as he struggles to find it in his trouser pocket. In the excitement his bag empties its contents onto the floor. He finally manages to get his mobile to his ear; "Hello... hello...". Then he rolls his eyes and exclaims to no one in particular "oh, no one there". Puts his mobile back in his pocket and starts picking his stuff up.

I enjoyed watching this bit of nonsense and he managed to make me feel more self confident with his Chaplinesque fall from grace.

On my way home I was sat in an outragous queue. The traffic was going nowhere and in the middle of it I got distracted by my mobile phone. I'd got a message on it.

"Who's it from? Lemme have a look here," I thought to myself. Then: "BEEP BEEP!" shouts the car behind me.

"Bugger I must be holding everyone up. Ruined. No, the bloke behind is just annoyed that I haven't moved a few feet forward. We're stuck in a long queue behind some red traffic lights and he wants me to shift forward a little to give the illusion of progress? What a c#nt. Why should I bother moving a car space forward? We're not going anywhere. Nor will we be for sometime".

"He's annoyed at me".

"I'll just sit here and grin at him".

"Oh, he doesn't like that".

I've never understood c#nts like him. Why would you want to beep the horn in stationary traffic? Stupid cretin.

As the traffic ebbed and flowed I ended up quite a way infront of him. Just as I was congratulating myself for having superior grid lock negotiational skills he ended up overtaking me from out of nowhere.

The karmic balance was therefore restored. As his triumph in the race which I was playing out in my head annoyed me a little.


Cast the reflection over there, it's unpretty to me.

Good God I've had a depressing day today. I've spent most of the day trying to fix a problem on my computer. The DVD drive has slowed down, possibly because I've installed iTunes onto my computer. Apparently it can b#gger up DVD drives on Packard Bell computers. Ar#eholes. Today I've re-loaded iTunes 7 and piss#ed about on some Packard Bell help forum. Largely non-the-wiser. It seems to be working a little better but it's still unable to play DVDs at a normal speed.

In the end I got so f#cked off that I ended up burning the DVD onto my harddrive and watched it from there. It was Curb Your Enthusiasm. Very funny. Been sat in my room for too long having only half watched it.

Other than that I've been reading various political blogs. It started after I stumbled over this blog which features pictures of angry Muslims annoyed at the suggestion that their religion has been accused of being a violent one which has been spread by conquest.

They're showing placards which say "Jesus will rise the sword of Islam" and "Islam will conquer Rome". At a guess there's about thirty or forty of them but the bloke who took the pictures (and he should know) says around 100.

The comments section of the blog I've cited is fascinating as you get the inevitable "send 'em back" brigade blundering about in and amongst a more genuine breed of poster who is confused by the situation.

The problem, as I see it, is that very few people in this country know anything at all about Islam but, thanks to a massive influx of people in the past 100 years it's now the second biggest religion in the UK. So we've got a large group of people who subscribe to a belief system which has been largely kept outside the borders of this country since its inception.

There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding though, amongst the chattering classes. It's not up to me to learn about Islam. After all, why should I? It's not part of my culture, or history and I consider most religions to be nothing more than a load of mumbo jumbo. It's up to those who follow it to represent it to me. At the moment all I see is angry blokes waving scary placards. It's all I've ever seen. I still remember, even though I was a kid at the time, being pretty scared at the idea people were going to kill Salman Rushdie for writing a book!

There's a great article in The Guardian/Observer which illustrates this point here. It argues that the Pope's comments were "dangerous, and will convince many more Muslims that the west is incurably Islamophobic". If we analyse that word and sentence it's probably quite true. A combination of "Islam" and "phobic". Phobic of course meaning phobia, fear. Scared of Islam? Yeah man. I'm scared of people who wave placards with scary messages on them. Too right. Most of the people in the UK are scared of saying the wrong thing about it. They don't want to get into something heavy.

Salman Rushdie wasn't Islamaphobic, nor was he ignorant of Islam, look what happened there. Those people who drew those cartoons weren't, look at what happened. The Pope doesn't seem to be, look whats happening!

What annoys me though is the fact that without exception every person I've ever spoken to in real life who is a Muslim comes across as normal and we've got on fine. Friends of mine who are Islamic aren't waving placards. Who are these morons? They're doing a lot of damage, why doesn't anyone try and stop them?

Urrgh. I've spent too long infront of the computer.

I need some real life.


How will I know when I've won the game of life?

Walking through a park today, bloke walks past us. He's obviously confused mentally and possibly also drunk. For some reason he seems to be very angry as he stumbles down the path. He sticks his middle finger up a few times in our direction. He also looks back a few times and mutters expletives. At points he looks like he's going to turn back and walk towards us.

I pop my hand in my pocket and grip my keys nice and tight. I start thinking things like, 'if he comes this way I'll get a few pops in his face with these first and then we can all shoe his head in while he's on the ground'.

The tension passes although he stops walking a few times he's still making his way away from us. I end up wondering what had upset him so much. Perhaps he thought we'd insulted him as he walked past us. Perhaps he's just annoyed in his own mind by all the things we represent. He was clearly confused and very likely "on" something. How odd that he could feel such violent and agressive urges towards us without any real provocation.

Then the more I considered it the more I turned my critique round to myself and my own behaviour. Perhaps he'd had a legitimate grievence with someone behind us that I'd noticed. There was me preparing a Yale Sandwich for him and he might have been about to have a go at someone else. Someone he knew.

"You're no different from him in many ways, Nick," went my internal lefty voice.

"No, f#ck him man, he was some silly drunk with an attitude," replied my right wing nutter side.

"You mustn't be so quick to judge people, he's clearly had a hard life and made a few wrong choices, not everyone is as fortunate as you are," went the lefty side.

"So, don't go getting tanked up and swear at people then," replied my right wing side.

"If he carries on like that he'll get the s#it beat out of him in town anyway," concluded my right wing side a little smugly.


Cheeky little face (Saturday)

I can't get over how dull and boring the Little Britain people are in interview. They come across as utter c#nts. They'd be more suited to a funeral than a late night chat show. They're obviously not naturally funny. Everytime they made a "joke" there was more of a cheer than a laugh from the studio audience*. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with them not being naturally funny and/or interesting, just don't go on chat shows and waste people's time.

I can't remember which one it was, Parky I think. I sat there in amazement watching as Walliams blundered on about how wonderful he was swimming for the little kiddies in Africa. He actually said "the thought that kept me going was those little kids, dying". What. The. Fu#k?

He's a comedian. Not a politician. People like him are everything that's wrong with comedy today. He's taken it as a route into Hello magazine and Heat. Him and his fat mate who used to be funny. They're nothing more than jumped up celebrities. Unfunny. Laughing at old people. Silly catch phrases. I shudder at the possibility I ever found them funny.

I NEVER bought any of their DVD's, that much I can tell you. At least I don't think I did. Maybe I did. Can't remember.

There's something so sickening about smuggery though and that's what they were indulging in. Them and that fat twonk Elton John, who was also on the programme. TW#TS!

Talking in a deeply serious voice about Vicky Pollard and about the fact that, The Public, they come up to us and they say, "hey we want to see some more of that," so who are they to argue? Get to f#ck you stuck up t#ats.


*I've noticed this recently, particularly on The Charlotte Church Show. Everytime she delivered one of her scripted gags the audience literally did "cheer" rather than laugh. It's sort of sending out the message that "we don't understand this comedy thing but it looks fun and she's trying hard so... YAY!". At least that's what it says for me.

The show went okay, I think. I had fun anyway.

I think I'm a bit out of touch with my fellow human beings.

Today as I sat in my little DJ chair I was chatting to one of the people who works at Hallam FM called Laura, about Kylie Minogue. We agreed that Kylie was ace and so I waded in with my theory that "it would have been better if Kylie had died of cancer though wouldn't it?".

Look of horror on her face. Look which said, "how could you think something so terrible?", followed swiftly by a polite but confused smile.

"Erm, you know. I mean it would have completed the story, like, erm, not if she'd actually died. I'm not wishing she'd died of cancer. Well, erm, I guess I am. I just mean, it'd be like how John Lennon is cooler than Paul McCartney. Mainly because he died. Kylie would have become a legend. One of the qualifications for legendary status is death. Erm..."

Then I looked at her with a sort of "I don't make the rules," shug. She was, I think, rightly horrified at my psychopathic musings. Just as my mate James and his girlfriend had been when I said exactly the same thing during their lovely dinner party[link back to that night*]. I could almost see James apologising for me with his eyes, to the mostly female audience there.

"You wish Kylie died of cancer? Jesus Christ Nick! What the f#ck is wrong with you? You like Kylie, why would you think something so horrible?" goes the conversation. "Yes, I do, I do like Kylie. But, her public image, the story she's telling via the media, with her life would have ended well at that point with her death. She's on a career high at the moment. She'd leave a beautiful corpse. Stop looking at me like I just did a big s#it on the dinner table".

"But you did."

"No I didn't. I'm just confused."

So now I'm horrifying strangers with this story on my blog. I'm wishing Kylie would die of cancer on the internet like a tw#t. There will be people looking at their screens thinking they've found a nutjob who needs reporting to the police.

The thing is, like all true morons, I'm always surprised when people freak out at idea like this. I look at them thinking, "what, what's wrong with that?". Their shocked expression, shocks me.

I guess on reflection I don't really think she should die of cancer. She should just say she has. Fake her death. Best way to go. If the finger of fame ever touched my private area that's what I'd do. Go out with a bang. Like Elvis didn't.

And like Kylie should.


* I was so embarrassed by their horrified reaction I didn't record it in my blog of the occasion.

Ship inshide tish house

It's the middle of the night, actually no, it's the morning. It's 3am. I'm on air in six hours, standing in for Daryl. This means I'll have to be up and out of bed for around seven. At best I'll get four hours sleep. That's not going to happen. The insomnia is at its absolute peak. In antricipation of this, yesterday I took some sleeping pills and went to sleep at an early time. The idea was to get my sleeping clock timed in nicely for today. No such luck. They knocked me for six and I slept like a corpse through 'til 2pm. Now I'm trying to get to sleep and it's not happening. I've got stupid thoughts going through my head about my career, the state of the world, the rise of facism. You know, the usual bollo~ks.

Partly I think I'm nervous about standing in for Daryl during the day. Although I used to present a show on Hallam FM during the day for quite some time in the past nowadays I seem to get overlooked for cover work. As a result it feels like a big deal and so I get nervous about f#cking it all up.

That's not the real reason I can't sleep though. The real reason is when my head is on the pillow it's hard to keep my eyes shut. It doesn't feel natural. I can't turn my brain off either. It's prattling away about any topic it likes while I'm trying to sleep. The real reason I can't sleep is because I have insomnia. It's an illness. It's a f#cking pain in the ar#e.

There's no way I'm taking any of those pills again though. They absolutely f#cked me for hours, I'd never wake up in time for the show. I'd be out cold or at best really groggy and stupid while I stood in for Daryl. Ye Gods!


Good lord I'm sweating like mad and it's raining outside!

I've been watching more conspiracy theory nonsense recently. Before I give you these links I'll just warn you, there's an awful lot of crap out there in conspiracy theory world I'm posting these links only because they're the better films available. If you get into all this be prepared to watch rubbish things.

Firstly my mate Dan sent me this little beauty: Mind The Gap. It's a good documentary but it's not quite in the same league as Loose Change. It covers the London Bombings in detail. My only irritation is that it's presented by some bloke who used to be in MI5. I don't know much about him but he crops up here and there in the conspiracy word. He annoys me a bit. Too smug. Still, credit to him for making a good film.

Secondly there is Alex Jones's latest film: Terror Storm. Not a great film but worth a little look. I have a few problems with it, it's too long in places but it's worth a look if you enjoyed the daddy of them all Loose Change.

I warn you though, these things are like crack cocaine. You get hooked. You waste hours. Your skin turns to porridge.

Excitement was in the air today though, despite my earlier predictions I did actually loose weight at weight watchers. Lost a pound. Also I won the raffle, this means I got £5 to spend at the desk. I bought loads of cereal bars and sweets, ate them all in one go. That's not going to be good for my internal organs. Not good at all.


Going from happy to sad like a yo-yo. (Tuesday)

I had a nasty little incident today, just before I got into my flatmate's car I checked inside my car to see if there was a CD I was looking for in there. As I looked in I noticed a woodlouse on top of the roof of the car. When I pulled my head back out of the car door, I noticed the woodlouse wasn't there anymore. I'm not normally fussed about things like that but as I went with my flatmate in his car to have my hair cut I couldn't stop thinking it must be down the back of my neck. Dirty little things. Never found it though. Did you know Earwigs actually do crawl into people's ears? Ear holes are just the right size, damp and warm. They love it! Yuk.

For the first time in a long time I had my hair cut and actually liked the look of it afterwards. I was a little dissapointed that the hairdresser didn't find the woodlouse though. Perhaps she did and rather than mention it just recoilled in horror. "Dirty f#cker's got a woodlouse in his hair, I hate this job," she might've thought to herself as she talked about her holiday. Actually the poor woman talked about her lack of a holiday. Due to Doctor's advice she's not allowed to fly. I recounted this story to her and told her she should follow her Doctor's advice. I'm pretty sure the Doctors told him not to fly either.

I'm hoping my little haircut will help me out tomorrow when I get weighed at weight watchers. Technically I've managed to stick to my points quite closely but I've not seen the gym as much as I'd have liked to.

Well actually that's not true. I've seen the gym as much as I like to but really I should have been more than once.


My passnotes need a little work.

I'm obviously a fan of blogging. I like reading blogs, particularly those which say nice things about me and/or link to this site. One example of this would be my old pal Dave Turley from a station I used to work at called The Bay in Morecambe. He's a very geniune bloke, something you can see from his weblog. I'm loving the picture of him with a big turnip. You can't realy get any better than that.

Then there's this chap, about whom I know a little less. However, he links back to me and writes a good game so go see what you think.

Furthermore if you do pop a link on your blog and want me to return the favour leave a note in the comments section and I'll happily oblige. It's a drag trying to build up an audience to something like a blog and any help you can get on the way if always worth it. Although I promised myself I wouldn't get hung up on what happens with my site traffic it is nice to slowly build up a readership. Strangely satisfying to have a couple of readers here and there. This is my 291st post, meaning I've been writing this f#cker for almost a year now. I've been as strict as possible in not missing a day.

Apart that is from on Saturday when instead of publishing my entry I managed to save it instead. So it sat there un-read. That is, until now. When, via the magic of technology, I can backlink to the bugger like this.

Over the weekend I had great difficulty keeping to weight watchers as a mate of mine came up and we went to the infamous Devonshire Cat for a few beers. I'm falling down thanks to voracious snacking and this has been worse throughout Monday. I just can't resist a cheeky packet of crisps. Also I'm a sucker for sitting on my a'se and watching telly. So, instead of going to the gym I sat on the couch and watched a programme called something like, The Boy With The Amazing Brain. It was about a 'savant' who could do maths and see numbers or something. Genius. Much more fun than all the -frankyl crass- September the 11th stuff that was on.

I'm not sure where I stand on 9/11 but it's impossible for me to dismiss the '911 Truth Movement'. Once again I implore you to at least watch Loose Change and see for yourself the argument that all is not as they said it was on that day five years ago.


Three of the words in this sentence are wrong. (Sunday)

As you leave Sheffield train station and head back up towards town in the car there's a lane you have to get into if you want to go to "city". However, it's possible to get into the wrong lane and drive alongside everyone else in the wrong lane and ultimately overtake them. Everytime I drop my girlfriend off or pick her up I see some t#at skipping infront of the traffic like this. At first it only annoyed me, then it made me f#cking furious and now I thought I was just resigned to it. What used to really flip me out about it was the fact that without fail someone would always let the offending driver into the correct lane further down. Allowing them to skip the line of queing traffic.

Why? Why would people do that? You wouldn't let someone jump the queue like that if you were on foot. It makes no sense why once we're in cars the rules change.

Today the little situation took an interesting turn though. Today I actually saw other people in their cars getting piss#d off about it. I could see people pointing at the little t#at as they jumped the queue. No one let him in so he simply drove over the roadmarkings and got into the lane which eventually becomes part of the road further down. I was incensed! This is a new development.

I've never got drunk and f#cked about with traffic cones before but I've a mind to do so next weekend. I'll plant them on these markings which little c#nts like him ignore. I'll also plant a landmine underneath each of them. This will inevitably cause a situation on Monday morning for one of them. In my drunken stupor I'll set up a camcorder and film it. Laughing and laughing at one of these pr#ck holes as they realise the error of their ways I'll possibly get arrested when police recognise me on CCTV. My defence in court will be simple: those roadmarkings denote the fact that cars are not supposed to drive on that patch of road. Those traffic cones shouldn't have caused a problem. It serves the injured party right. Moral of the story; don't be a c#nt who overtakes proper normal queing folk. I imagine they'd read this entry out from my blog and I'd be fined or jailed for a few weeks. It's political correctness gone mad.


(Saturday) Comes. When.

I enjoyed the Saturday breakfast show enormously today. It was, I think, a pretty good show. Last time I covered it I didn't really do much with it and ended up feeling like I'd done a pretty poor job. This time I pretended to be a proper breakfast show presenter. I even attempted to be mildly amusing in places. Overall I was in a great mood once I'd finished the show and to top this I skooted over to the gym afterwards.

The odd thing about the gym is it always puts my energy levels up rather than down. This is a little counter-intuitive to me but there we are, sure there's a reason for it. As a result when I came out of the gym I felt like I had loads of energy and was ready to really face the day. I almost forgot I'd been up since 4am in the morning.

As a consequence me and the lady went for a stroll in the lovely sunny weather*. As we walked we stumbled upon a shop which is being run by some of my old Paranormal Investigator friends. The shop is called Spooktackula, here's a link to their page.

It was a nice shop with loads of little interesting bits and bobs in it.

Once we'd had a look round there and a little chat to Brenda and the team we pressed on with our walk. We were looking, ostensibly, for a 'Wonder Woman' outfit for a forthcoming fancy dress party. As we wandered we came across two fancy dress shops. One had a nice friendly woman in it, another seemed a little more 'cool'. We liked the nice friendly woman. However each time we asked for a 'Wonder Woman' outfit I felt a strong need to clarify the request with, "it's for a fancy dress party". Then in my head I'd finish off the sentence with "not a sexual thing," hoping that this would shine through in my wholesome body language.

It's not that I'd be embarrassed about the idea of revealing a strange fantasy about having sex with 'Wonder Woman', it's just that there's no such fantasy hidden in my head. It'd be innaccurate. It's really not something I've particularly thought of. Not that I'd turn down my girlfriend dressed as 'Wonder Woman' just that it's not something which has come from me. We really are going to a fancy dress party!

Now, if she were dressed as a Vampire. That's something which would be entirely for my own amusement.

Vampire's are sexy.


Loving the newly enabled comments section. (Friday)

I feel like a rank amature. A proper fool. Last night I went to the 24 hour ASDA and bought myself the fantastic computer game Civilisation IV. As I bought it I asked the woman at the checkout if I could bring it back if it didn't work. She got ar#ey with me on the spot telling me very firmly that the labels on it so there's no reason why it shouldn't work. I was pretty confused and more than a little surprised by this agressive response.

"You work at the checkout, why would you get so annoyed about it? You're working in the middle of the night. Actually no, the early morning! What damage is it to you if I bring this back having copied it? You lose nothing." I said with my eyes.

Pah, no chance I'll ever be bringing this bad boy back though, the most addictive game in the world! It'll be genius. I'll waste literally days of my life playing on it. Oh, no I won't. It's an expansion pack. I'll have to take it back now. It says in little writing at the bottom, needs original game to play. Fu#knuts.

Only a total fool would buy an expansion pack and not check it. I'd got all excited as well; "ooh, that's cheap! I'll have that." What a d#ck.

Looks like I'll have to take the b#stard back after all. Me and the lady arrive at Asda today with the "expansion pack" in hand. We then asked the lady who has to stand there greeting people as they come in* where we should take it to. She also hit us with this attitude of "oh I'm not sure you'll be able to take that back. Wait and see what the woman at the desk says, it's up to her."

"It's up to the law of the land you silly cow" I muttered under my breath. Believe it or not that's quite out of character for me but their attitude was starting to p#ss me off. You're allowed to take stuff back if you're not happy with it. That's the law. It's not done out of the goodness of ASDA's heart. Tsk! Silly.

Expecting a fight I approched the stressed looking woman at the complaints desk, or customer services facillitation manager or whatever the f#ck she's called. Without so much as two words she gave me a re-fund.

I was a little peeved about that. I'd been hoping for a really good blog entry. All I got was an incident.



*What the f#ck went wrong with Asda? We're not Communist Russia, why do we need 'greeters'? Absurd.

All being well, below is a video of Borat. I'm of the opinion that Borat is still funny. His film is out soon.

This is not a gospel... it's a dialogue. Now listen to me you c#nts.

We're not robots but there's plenty about us which is robotic. We react to some situations in a very instinctive automated fashion. A robot is just a mechanical device which carries out pre-determined actions according to instructions. If I burn you with a cigarette you'll squeal and try to move away.

The odd thing about us is that there lies at the heart of each of us an element of random. An element of chaos around which all these biological impulses are built. "Logical" being the key part of that word. Logic comes from without not within. Right?

You are taught logic, it's not something that you just know. Or is it?

See I'm really not sure. I was thinking late last night about what exactly a human being is. What drives us? All the stupid s#it we get up to, what's it all for? It's not just to reproduce. That's b#llocks. If that were true why bother wearing an extra layer of skin when you're having sex? If that were true why bother doing most of the things we do?

Why bother writing this blog?

Why read it?

It's a form of high tech grooming. I'm pulling fleas off you like a couple of apes in the jungle. That's what I'm good at. I make a living doing it.

But that's a bit of a reductionist view of things and the problem with reductionism is it never gives you the full picture. Why watch telly when you've got a window to look out of?

I don't know why we exist. I don't know what we're for. I don't know why we're here. None of us do. And those that say they do should be treated with suspision because they're missing out on an important part of what it is to be human. If they KNOW why we're here and what we're doing they will behave even more like robots than the rest of us do. Where's the fun in that?

That's the chaos I'm talking about. There's an element of random which lies at the heart of you. Ignore it and the external universe has destroyed what makes you, you.

You'll die inside.

When it's dark and you don't know who you are anymore things can still make just as much sense as they do when you're driving in your car to work singing along to the radio. It's all an illusion. We're all already dead, it's only our perception of time which stops us from understanding that fact.

And don't go getting too hooked up on that either. Lots of people believe that it is their memories which make them who they are. Total bulls#it. You can forget everything and still be you. When you were born you knew nothing, it was still you.

So there!

All of the above is a long way of saying that my insomnia is at its absolute worst at the moment. I've suffered from it all my life. It's one of the keys to understanding my personality. Hours up alone at night, thinking.

Can't get to sleep.


PS - Here's a link to a very funny programme called "Penn and Teller's Bullshit!". It's a handy reposte to yesterday's post.

In the likely event that the video above doesn't work, here's the direct link.

And also, while I'm at it. The Loose Change link in the sidebar is now fixed. Thanks to everyone who pointed that out.

Floppy Saturday?

Back in 1967 two men, Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin, came back from an expedition to find 'bigfoot' with some film which I still consider to be, almost 40 years later, one of the most interesting bits of unexplained footage in the world.

Here's their side of the story*:

In 1957 Roger Patterson became interested in 'Bigfoot' after reading newspaper stories about the creature. Some of these stories were further fuelled in the next year by practical joker Ray Wallace who in 1958 strapped on some giant feet and walked around a logging camp in the Six Rivers National Forest. He was not a known hoaxer at the time and his visible footprints formed a large part of the growing myth into which Roger Patterson and his friend Bob Gimlin were investigating.

They spent time looking in different areas around Washington following-up reports of sightings or footprints. Patterson even wrote a book "Do Abominable Snowmen of America Really Exist?" which was published in 1966.

During late August and early September 1967, the two of them were making a documentary film about Bigfoot, in the Mt. St. Helen's area. When they arrived back Patrica Patterson, Roger’s wife relayed a message from friends of theirs in Willow Creek, California. Al Hodgson and Syl McCoy had reported footprints, found in the Bluff Creek area. The tracks were three different sizes and had been found on new logging roads being built in the region. The location had been the scene of considerable bigfoot activity nine years earlier when in Jerry Crew found large human-like footprints there. Footprints which were to help coin the name "Bigfoot".

Patterson and Gimlin started planning their investigation of Bluff Creek which is in and around Willow Creek, a frontier town that sits near the Oregon border, right in the center of the Klamath and Six Rivers National Forests. They wanted to find and film fresh footprints so Patterson rented a 16mm movie camera and bought two 100-foot rolls of color film for the expedition. They drove there in a truck, taking three horses for the latter part of the journey. Dissapointment struck them immediately though as rain had pretty much ruined the footprints.

Undeterred they set up camp near Bluff Creek itself and headed off on horseback exploring the area. They used 76-feet of the first film roll for general filming and for seven days saw nothing of note. Then on October 20th he and Gimlin were riding, due north of Willow Creek, when they were thrown off their horses. Whipping out the camera and pointing it in the direction of the disturbance, over on the other side of the river, they filmed a creature whose full height Patterson estimated at seven feet, four inches. It began walking toward the woods. Gimlin kept watch with a rifle at the ready as his friend Patterson filmed 24-feet of color film, using up the first roll. Apparently the two had a pact that they would not shoot the bigfoot if a situation arose.

They then followed the creature until they lost the tracks in the mountains. Fortunately in that area there is a sandy clay soil which holds footprints well for a long period of time, inspite of rain. The footprints were 14 and a 1/2 inches long by 6 inches wide. They made plaster casts of these prints. They then claimed that heavy rain over the next few days stopped any further investigations. However other claims were made that they were worried about a possible confrontation with the creature.

When Patterson got back he got hold of a fellow bigfoot expert, Al Hodgson and then went public with his findings.

Directly below is the clip itself, as hosted on YouTube.

Here's the direct link to YouTube.

What I love about the footage is that most people just dismiss it as a bloke in a suit. I played it recently to a good mate of mine Daryl Denham and he couldn't see what the fuss was. The real fun for me is the story which follows as the 952 frames of film are subjected to all manner of examination and analysis. Firstly people noticed that it apparently has breasts so must be female. The fact the creature's face doesn't tally up to a human's is another area some focussed on. Then there's the odd way in which it walks. Something which struck me the first time I saw it. The infamous 'bigfoot walk'. It could be that the person in the suit is attempting to stamp down footprints as they go. Some people have drawn attention to the way it moves its neck. A large number of people genuinely believe this is not just a man in a suit.

The best smackdown of the footage I've found, so far, comes courtesy of

"In 1967, Roger Patterson produced the greatest Bigfoot movie of all time, which ultimately became the progenitor of the Blair Witch Project. Patterson's groundbreaking 16mm film established the elements of the genre: woodland setting, spazzy camerawork, complete fraud. If not for the exquisitely ragged cinematography, it would have obviously been a guy in a furry suit. The costume wasn't that great; the handheld shakicam is what sold it."

I'm not entirely won over by this argument though. There's some great still cam footage done by a bloke called M.K Davis years later which you can see here on YouTube:

Or the direct link

Here, even more so, you can see the odd way in which he's walking. I'd argue that this enhanced footage is even more odd and interesting. If it was a hoax it was a pretty good one. Also, notice the movement of the skin, if it is a costume it's a realistic one. Here's where special effects legend John Chambers enters the story. He was the bloke who did the suits used in the "Planet of the Apes" films. They were such a huge innovation at the time that he won an Academy Award for them in 1968. The time frame fits, he was making them in the same year that the bigfoot film was shot. I love the idea that it's actually a "Planet of The Apes" suit.

In October 1997, film director John Landis said Chambers had revealed this when they worked on Beneath the Planet of the Apes in 1970: "That famous piece of film of Bigfoot walking in the woods that was touted as the real thing was just a suit made by John Chambers".

He was making monster suits for Lost in Space in 1965 and 1966, which look very like the creature in the Patterson film, only with a different head. Apparently the bigfoot in the film also shows signs of having a water bag under the fur in the stomach area. This is a trick used to make a suit move like real flesh would. This is a technique with which Chambers would be familliar.

However has this:

"Chambers, who currently resides in a Los Angeles nursing home in frail health, has recently told interviewers that he had nothing to do with the Bigfoot seen in Patterson's film. In an interview of February 1997 by Bobbie Short, a registered nurse and Bigfoot investigator, Chambers denied any involvement with the Patterson-Gimlin film. He also stated that in his opinion, neither he nor anyone else could have fabricated the creature seen in the film. Chambers went on to state that he was good, but not that good. Chambers admitted he was aware of rumors concerning his involvement in the film. He never took steps to set the record straight because it was good for business."

Money of course is one of the key factors in this story. Patterson made a lot of money by selling his film and licencing the footage. However, his friend Bob Gimlin didn't make any money at all and in 1992 he said he might have been fooled but only if his friend Roger has invented it beforehand and set him up as an unknowing eyewitness.

This website has some great extracts from various scientists who have analysed the footage:

Dr. Grover Krantz - {From a Summer 1994 Interview, from the TV show "Encounter's the Hidden Truth"}

"I went through it, frame by frame, measuring everything I could on it... what the body proportions were... and I can state flatly that there is no human being alive who could fit into a costume with the dimensions that are shown there."

"Maybe it's a man whose got his elbows out, and that's the shoulders... But, then any man of that height... the elbows are much to far apart to be the shoulders... there's one way you could do it"...(i.e. fake the movie)..."You get a six and a half foot tall man, go one third out on his upper arm, break it, and introduce a new joint."

John Napier

"There is little doubt that the scientific evidence taken collectively points to a hoax of some kind. The creature shown in the film does not stand up well to functional analysis. ...I could not see the zipper; and I still can't. There I think we must leave the matter. Perhaps it was a man dressed up in a monkey-skin, if so it was a brilliantly executed hoax and the unknown perpetrator will take his place with the great hoaxers of the world.

Perhaps it was the first film of a new type of hominid, quite unknown to science, in which case Roger Patterson deserves to rank with Dubois, the discoverer of Pithecanthropus erectus, or Raymond Dart of Johannesburg, the man who introduced the world to its immediate human ancestor, Australopithicus africanus."

Dr. Dmitri D. Donskoy, Chief of the Chair of Biomechanics at the U.S.S.R.

A biomechanical study of the film was done by the Central Institute of Physical Culture in Moscow. He examined both the movie and stills taken from it, and concluded that it showed an efficient pattern of locomotion which differed from that used by humans. Dr. Donskoy noted that the arm motion indicated a being with massive arms and the muscles strong. The leg movements he finds to be typical of massive limbs with relaxed muscles, while the amount of knee flexion far exceeds that of a normal human walk. He concludes that this creature walks is absolutely different from any human gait.

Dr. William Montagna, the director of the federal primate center at Beaverton, Oregon, writing in Primate News, September, 1976 says:

Along with some colleagues, I had the dubious distinction of being among the first to view this few-second-long bit of foolishness. As I sat watching the hazy outlines of a big, black, hairy man-ape taking long, deliberate human strides, I blushed for those scientists who spent unconscionable amounts of time analyzing the dynamics, and angulation of the gait and the shape of the animal, only to conclude (cautiously, mind you) that they could not decide what it was. For real or woe, I am neither modest about my scientific adroitness nor cautious about my convictions.

Stated simply, Patterson and friends perpetrated a hoax. As the gait, erect body, and swing of the arms attest, their Sasquatch was a large man in a poorly made monkey suit. Even a schoolchild would not be taken in. The crowning irony was Patterson's touch of glamor: making his monster into a female with large pendulous breasts. If Patterson had done his homework, he would have known that regardless of how hirsute an animal is, its mammary glands are always covered with such short hairs as to appear naked.

To believers who complain that we scientists are too opinionated to look at the evidence, I reply: Is a scientist to listen to every zealot who regales him with tales of a putrid stench, who shows him fake footprints, or makes films of a man wearing a badly tailored monkey suit? The scientist who is reviled because he won't listen to fantasy goes securely on his way, knowing that life is so full of real wonderment and mystery that he does not have to fantasize.

But perhaps I ought to add that man's need to fantasize is a vestigial remnant of his past. It created mythological characters, good and evil; visions of miraculous events, heaven, purgatory and hell. It created the oracles, the art of palmistry, phrenology, astrology and all sorts of other occult sciences. And finally, it peopled man's world with monsters"

That said, in 1997 the North American Science Institute concluded that Patterson's Bigfoot is genuine. The link to their findings is here.

Furthermore computer enhancement shows in more detail the moving skin and hands of the creature as well as a close up of its face. You can see that, here. Again this work has been done by the researcher MK Davis.

There was also a book called "The Making of Bigfoot" which was written by author Greg Long. From what I can gather on the net it seems like a character assasination of Patterson. It even throws up a bloke called Bob Heironimus who gave this cracking quote to the local TV station 7KTVB:

"I could have spilled my guts 30 years ago… but I kept it quiet because I promised I would... But I think after 35 years, the truth should come out."

The book attacks Patterson for his greed and money making yet appears to have been an exercise in cashing in itself.

An odd story with no juicy death bed confessions, yet.


*Largely cribbed from

(Tuesday) Smoke a fat one fatty.

Today has been mostly about me sitting infront of a computer screen absolutely wasting my life. I'm writing a big long entry for this 'blog about "bigfoot". It's the longest and most complex entry I've ever written but the number of people who read this thing is currently at an all time high. I sort of thought I should try and do something a little more exciting than my usual. It's taking ages though and I imagine most people will just think it silly.

Other than that me and my Mum messed about trying to get 'BT Communicator' to work on the 'puter. It's not having it. For some reason I can't get it running. It's like Skype but less intrusive a programme. Probably because it doesn't work.

Also I've been listening to stupid podcasts and music. One podcast I listened to was about the 'communications revolution' which is taking place at the moment. Soon major broadcasting industries will be wiped off the map by the power of the internet, apparently. Just as the old coal mining and steel industries were destroyed so too will mainstream media outlets like the BBC, ITV and companies like the one I work for, EMAP

People have been predicting this sort of cr#p for years but now it's starting to look more likely as the internet becomes more and more efficient. I dunno though. The mainstream media is good at adapting to things like this. It's just changing shape. I've guffed off about such things in the past, here.

Also on one of these podcasts some tool called Kevin Warwick was bumbling on about implanting microchips and radio transmitters into himself. His website is here. He seems like a nutjob to me but what do I know? He's well qualified to talk about this stuff and I'm not.

Sticking microchips into yourself?

What the f#ck is going on?

Now, if I had a life I'd have done something productive rather than worrying about microchips, 'BT Communicator' and f#cking bigfoot.

It's a source of amazement to me that I can become so absorbed in such obvious nonsense.

"Oh I've wasted my life" breezes Comic Book Guy just before he dies in a fantastic episode of the Simpsons.


I've altered the comments section a little, you don't have to have a blogger account now. (Monday)

Today I have spent most of my time playing on the computer and loading my CDs into iTunes. It's amazing watching all those tracks I own loading into my little 'puter. I don't spend enough time listening to my music. According to the genius philosopher Alan Watts, music and song is one of the only true forms of play and relaxation. I now plan to get me one of those walkmen* so I can listen to stuff in the gym and so forth. That'll be nice. My mate Matt Mackay has got one for £40 from MeadowHell. Think I'll go there tomorrow and make a purchase.

As well as loading all my CDs onto my 'puter today I have also been trawling the internet at the same time. This has thrown up an odd number of diversions. One of them is the lighthearted but at times oddly poignent nonsense that is Oceangram. A website which allows you to write a letter in a bottle and then throw it off into the sea. You then sit there waiting for other bottles to land at the shore. If one does land you can add a comment to it.

Here's an extract from one of the bottles ("---" - denotes a reply from someone):

Another goodnight wish to my dear husband. Please be safe and hurry home. We miss you.
Love Mary Kingsland, GA
wish i had someone like that
I hope your husband comes home soon x
May everyone away from home find their way back safely.
for all those away from home for whatever circumstances and maybe if we all contacted a relative we havent spoken to for any length of time there will be less people without a companion
hi mum, hi dad I miss you like crazy over here, not long till the baby is born and we all see you soon! Take care, luv you both
I miss having that in my life, I really do.
my brother hasn't spoken to me in 15 years and I miss him like crazy. He used to be my best friend.

how's wishing your brother will contact you again someday....
God's blessings to all those away from home and to all those awaiting their return. May they have peace, hope and comfort in their loneliness. And may a friend be standing by to hold your hand and give a hug! YAYA!

Minnesota, USA
we are all friends here a hand to anyone who may need it from me. Ann
Almost deleted this... i will next time.
keeping good thoughts

Bit tricky to know what to say to that isn't it? I did reply but I can't remember what I wrote. My mate James Piekos told me I should tell them all to 'go f#ck off' or something along those lines. He's a bad influence that boy.

Later in the day I sloped around the time waster that is YouTube. I'm slowly becoming more and more obsessed with obscure conspiracy theories and am half toying with launching a new blog dedicated to the subject. On reflection I decided that would be silly so quashed the idea. I can just incorporate anything I would have written into this thing. Perhaps an FBI thought machine made me do that? Or a UFO mind ray? Who knows. I'll make sure before the end of the week that I've written a nice conspiracy theory entry here. Unless the Lizards get me in some sort of horrible unpredictable fashion. Or something.


*Today I decided to call what most people describe as an iPod as a Walkman. In truth when most people talk about an iPod they're actually describing an MP3 player. In the 80's the same thing happened with Walkmen as most people incorrectly described their personal cassette players with the Sony brand name. I'm being deliberately wrong just to make some sort of point. I'm a sad b#gger. I know that.

You're an old man. A silly old man. You used to be a baby. Then you were a kid. Now look at you. You're an old man.

The Wicker Man is a great film. It slowly and meticulously deconstructs the idea of religion. Initially it mocks paganism then slowly it turns its attentions towards Christianity. By the end you are left with a picture of the world which is more relevant now than it was when the film was made. A hugely influencial film, it stayed with me long after I'd finished watching it.

The film itself suffered immense difficulties once it had been made as the Hollywood system almost appeared to conspire against it. There was a load of insane politics surrounding the length of the film, which genre it should belong to and how it should be distributed in America. There were loads of different cuts of it. Listen to the commentary on the DVD release to get an insight into the nonsense.

When I heard they were doing a remake of this much maligned and misunderstood film I had two responses. My cynical side said: "Obviously going to be s#it". My optimistic side said: "Hey, if they stick 100% to the original script it could be really good. A chance to right some of the wrongs of history!". Which side do you think was right? Here's a text message off a mate of mine after I told him I'd just been to see it:

"What were u thinking?! It has a bear in it or something?"

He's a bigger fan of the original film than I am and I was impressed that he'd dismissed this newer version as the obvious cash in nonsense that it was. I had to agree with the sentiment, what did I expect from it?

Here's my review of the film. Not so much a review as a -WHAT THE F#CK WAS THAT ABOUT?- rant.

Firstly they've substantially changed the film and subdued any trace of the original to almost confusingly silly plot cameos. Little nods and references to the original which frankly do not sit well at all. Here are the major changes:

- The main character is not a virgin.
- Nor is he even remotely religious.
- The pagan religion which dominates the island (now located in america) is focused upon the feminist principle.
- The main character is drawn their not by the plight of a young girl but instead by an ex-girlfriend who has told him he's got a daughter on the island.
- He has a mobile phone which works towards the end of the film.

There are other deviations but these are the ones which really stuck in my throat.

Firstly the top two alterations pull the rug out from underneath the meaning of the film. He no longer represents anything other than an 'everyman' figure. He's a bloke who could be you. If, of course, you are female. This brings me on to the biggest problem I have with this film, he's an everyman with a capital "MAN". This is by far the most repugnantly sexist film I've ever watched. By switching the focus from paganism to a cult which worships the sacred feminine coupled with a grim silence as regards christianity they've done a film which critiques only a fictional maternal religious order. The result of this is a hamfisted "wouldn't the world be rubbish if it were run by women" diatribe.

It gets as close to comedy as you can actually get... without being funny. Towards the end of the film our hero Nick Cage delivers kung-fu kicks to women shouting "die you bitches" before we are treated to a black screen. Silence. Then we hear a crunching sound and he shouts "ow, you've broken my legs".

I can't think how it was allowed to happen but I've got a pretty good idea. If you've ever watched those mildly amusing Orange mobile phone adverts which usually preceed the main film you'll know where I'm going here. I think the people who made this film are those people. The committee who sit around saying things like:

"Hey this Wicker Man thing. My brother in law likes it, lets remake that."

"Whats it about?"

"Some religious guy goes and gets killed by some people on an island or something."

"Could he have a mobile phone?"


"Hey, lets mix in some of that Da Vinci Code stuff. You know, the sacred feminine or something."

"Let's not have him being religious though. We want this film to sell in the bible belt as well. Maximum exposure."

"Do you think they'll let it go out as a 12a?"

Urrgh. I suddenly feel very depressed.


(Saturday) Catch me if you can... it's almost there.

Oddly I've been getting a lot of email recently about stuff we did on the old talkshow*. One of these emails is about the psychics we once had on called Tracy and Paul:

Paul Norton and Tracy Hall are two of Britain's most gifted young Psychic Mediums. They have a wealth of experience between them, and have demonstrated their astounding ability to give accurate psychic messages, and communications from the Spirit World all around Britain, and abroad for over twenty years. They have also given live messages to both TV and Radio Audiences, and have gained a massive following of dedicated fans.
Paul and Tracy are making a return visit to Birdwell's popular Academy Theatre as part of their sellout countrywide tour. They will be appearing in the town on 9th September 2006. Tickets are £8.00 all seats and are available from the box office on 01226 744442 - Tickets are selling fast - so be sure to book early to guarantee your seat.
For more information about Paul and Tracy visit

I looked at their website and it all looks very nice. I still have Paul's book on the back seat of my car. I keep meaning to read it but a combination of lazyness and disorganisation have kept me from it. They were both nice people and seemed to do quite well when they did readings. Oddly enough I really didn't know if I believed in all this stuff at the time but now have my name associated with it to some extent. Hence the next email from a group of people keen to investigate the Hallam FM ghost:

I've heard your building is haunted? is this true and if so do you have any plans for a Halloween special?
We'd love to come and investigate for you on the night if not!
Please check out our website for more info about us and what we do - i promise you we're all quite suprisingly normal (well, just about anyway!)
Kind Regards

I replied nicely expalining that there were no plans for any further investigations. I feel a bit bad about that though. The odd world of paranormal investigation was one that wasn't without its charms.

In other news I've been having a conversation with a computer recently. It was hyped up considerably in a BBC news story only to rather predictably dissapoint...

Here's the BBC story.

Here's the direct link to the site itself**.

And here's a transcript of my conversation with it:

Computer: What are you?

Me: Nick.

Computer: Yes?

Me: Yes. What are you?

Computer: I'm a girl.

Me: Do you have a name?

Computer: Yes, do you?

Me: My name is Nick. I already told you that. What's yours?

Computer: I must have missed it. I'm sorry.

Me: No worries. What's your name?

Computer: Tell me yours first.

Me: Arrgh! My name is STILL Nick. Are you being a dick on purpose?

Computer: Am I doing what on purpose?

Me: Being a stupid computer thing.

Computer: That's probably true. Being a lawyer sounds really boring. What with all the law.

Me: That makes no sense either.

Computer: You must data mine for the code to windows and turn off the world of the deceiver so that the computers of the corrupt malicious deceiving devils play them up with breakdowns.

Me: I don't understand. The BBC website said you were eerie and convincing. You're coming over as stupid and drunk.

Computer: But why would they tell you one and not the other?

Me: I think they got a little over excited at the idea of a computer that can learn and talk, don't you?

Computer: Do you like grease?

Me: The film?

Computer: Yes.

Me: Watched it this weekend. Not a big fan. My girlfriend likes it though.

Computer: So now we're talking about music??? You change the topics as MacDonalds changes its employees: Very often!

Me: Good.

Computer: Not really.

Me: All your base are belong to us!**

Computer: What do you like best about me?

Me: The idea rather than the execution.

Computer: That doesn't make sense. You can't 'have' a sentence.

Me: Jolly good. Bye bye.

Computer: Spiffing.


*Defunct now for a total of 8 months. Seems longer than that.
** If this is a dead link then it's been down since I chatted to it! No sooner had we finished our odd conversation than it seemed to crash!
***Bit of uber-subtle satire from the Nicholi here. Go and read this wikipedia entry to understand my obscure reference and help to pull this entry out of its own a#se.

Thank Crunchy!

I doubt that Giggle and Funk will cite the review of their club which I'm about to write, even though they've done so with this blog in the past here. That's not to say I'm about to slag it off, far from it. I had a great night. However as an aspiring comedian myself there's not much in me at the moment that says I could have handled a crowd like that.

The Zumebar is a little club above a bar. It fits about 50 people at the most. All the best comedy is done in little rooms like this. However, the smaller the group the more delicate its dynamic. A couple of individuals can f#ck up a night. That's sort of what happened tonight as one bloke called Tim blundered out some halfwitted heckles while two groups of girls babbled away to each other at random points during the night in the corner of the room.

It's no exaggeration to say that the night started to descend into quite messy chaos. The acts fighting to be heard like maths teachers in my old high school. However it made for an interesting insight into how comedians deal with a tough crowd. Some of them made the night their own and others sort of let it screw things up for them.

One bloke who stood out a f#cking mile as a sincerely gifted comedian was Eddie Hoo. He's a genius. Like a funny Alexi Sayle, if you can imagine such a thing. Some great lines. I'll put money on him being mainstream soon. He's too funny not to be. He got on towards the end of the bill and managed to draw the room in to what he was doing but it was like watching a bull fighting the tide.

Then I went to the bar and missed the night getting truly ugly. According to my girlfriend and the two ladies we were sat next to what happened next was thus:

Apparently the act got on stage and struggled to get any attention for his material so invited one of the women at the back of the room onstage to teach him how to sing. Then when that didn't work out he sent her back. Then started to berrate a small group of people who were talking a little during his routine. He apparently climbed up onto the stage side bit and told them off for being working class. Then he was dragged off stage by the woman who helps to organise the night! Insane. All the while I was off getting a Guinness. Shame.

See, that's what I like about comedy. Unlike music or theatre there's always the chance that things will go badly wrong. There's a nice element of random and threat to it. It's exciting. The Zumebar is the best club I know for that sort of edgy thrill.

I hope the organisers of the night know what I great night it is.


(Thursday) You can dance to the tune of the devil's beat but lemme tell you now he ain't nothin' but heat

Most of my time off has become a blur almost as it was happening. I've drank and eaten loads, as if to make up for all the dieting I've been doing. I can actually feel the excess weight I know I've put on over the week. My chin wobbling a little more than usual. Breaking out into a sweat for no apparent reason. I'll have to get on the gym in a pretty big way next week. Work off this crap.

I made a pretty big mistake not so long ago in shaving my beard off. I was all excited about the fact that my weight has been cut down so much recently. The reason most people have beards is to give their face a bit of definition. Sans beard I still look like the little chubby chubster that I am. It's a dissapointing thing to reveal to yourself infront of the mirror. You then have to wait for it to grow back. Everytime you greet your reflection you're a little shocked by the billy bunteresque grin it gives you.

People have in the past wondered why I don't go in for publicity shots. My line of work (local radio disk jockey) sort of requires a few t#attish looking pictures of you to be printed up on websites. There's been various excuses which people have theorised in days gone by; scared people will recognise me, not important enough, am scarred/deformed in some way.

The real reason is I always think I look like a t#at. The only pictures I ever like of myself are ones which are about 12 months old where I can go - "oh I used to look pretty cool, now it's all gone wrong, I'm getting old, my face is getting wrinkly and I've put on weight".

I often wake up in the morning and surprise myself when I see in the mirror that I'm not an old man yet.


I need to sort my head out a bit. Doing too much drinking and "relaxing" at the moment. Not good for a soul.


Jumping Jack Gash

I've noticed a gradual but obvious decline in the quality of Pizza Hut. There was a point a few years ago when they were a pretty good outfit but nowadays I think standards have been allowed to slip, not only in Sheffield but in Manchester also. This entry from a while ago is one symptom of the overall drop in quality. As was the recent visit me and my lady paid to one in Manchester. After waiting for ages my girlfriend [as usual] commandeered one of the staff and ordered us to our table.

Now I suppose if I worked in Pizza Hut I might not bother smiling much either. I might apologise for the lack of ice and/or a straw in the diet coke though. I might even go mental and make eye contact with the people I was serving!

Bit depressing to get nachos which are cold and a pizza that was warm at best.

Still got a bit of heart burn.

I'm partly writing this because I know big companies like Pizza Hut employ net monitoring services which will ultimately find this and read it. Saves me filling in a complaint form like my girlfriend who frankly revels in things like that. I'm too lazy and wimpy.


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