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I always enjoy doing this right after I've checked my emails.

Like most people, every now and then my mind is shattered by something or other. The film I've posted at the bottom of this entry is the most recent example of a mind bomb that has recently knocked me for six. It may not have quite the same impact on you given that I've been searching for that particular story for quite some time now. It's a documentary about the infamous Stanford Prison Experiment carried out in the 60's by the US millitary. Condemned as unethical and largely discredited by the mainstream as a useless exercise the whole story is, to me, fascinating and tells us a lot about human nature.

The premise is simple; the participants were told they'd be taking part in an experiemnt to better determine how human beings reacted to imprisonment. Some of them would be guards and the others prisoners. Their roles would be determined by the flip of a coin.

They were not allowed to use physical force but anything else they did was fair game and considered to be part of the experiment.

The whole thing was to be filmed on cameras put inside the makeshift prison.

6 days in and the whole thing had to be stopped.

This film tells you why.

I'm still absorbing what I see as the implications of the experiment. It was a seminal event in Western history and has even been suggested as an early pre-cursor to the Big Brother TV programme.

To me it shows how people adopt a role in life which suggested to us by others. However I'm trying not to react to it too much here because I've not really totally digested it yet. It's powerful. There's no doubt about that. Don't watch it at work.

I was yabbering away to my mate James Piekos about it today as we confirmed his intention to turn up and witness my forthcoming stand-up comedy attempts this Monday. As I spoke to him on my hands free kit I nipped into my flat, got a yoghurt and then popped back to my car which I'd parked in someone else's parking space for a second as there was another car blocking mine off. I found the following note stuck under my windscreen wiper:

Oh dear! I clearly annoyed #69 there. I wanted to put a reply on their car saying "sorry" but unfortunately have no idea which one it is. I like the little exclamation mark they've added though. It offsets the "Please" with which the note starts. Start off polite, end it firm. Actually the bad punctuation of this note could leave you to think it was one which was being addressed to the people at number 69. It should read; "Please do not park in our parking space! No 69". That said they didn't have long to write it. I can only have been 4 minutes or so. I'd have loved to have heard the conversation which accompanied it. Perhaps people park in their space all the time and they'd already got the pen and paper ready just in case.

I can't prove it but I do suspect that in their territorially inspired rage they were also the people who knocked my wing mirror a bit. Serves me right for my cheek.


The Stanford Prison Experiment:

Direct link.

It is becoming more and more obvious that the answer to the worlds problems lies not with 'me' but 'we'.

Ye Gods! Will you look at that big stupid thing. I bought it in a bit of a hurry last week, there was a special offer on at Tesco so I got two for the price of one. I didn't even look at them, I just popped them in the trolley. This is a Tesco Brand toothbrush. Look at it, it's got six rubber teeth on the outside ready to scrape against your gums. Look at the back of it:

Apparently the idea of those ridges on the back is to scrape the plaque off your tongue? Not a bad idea if you can get the chuffing thing in your mouth as it's insanely thick. It feels like a club not a toothbrush. Imagine it looming towards your face:

You'd have to flinch wouldn't you? What annoys me is I remember when they started bringing out fancy toothbrushes like these a few years back. It was an obvious sales incentive with no practical value. Now I'm being forced to suck on a sales incentive. I'm literally chewing on the corporate c#ck every night.

Most people would just buy another toothbrush but that's frankly not an option for a cheapskate like me. It'd hurt me physically to pay more money for another toothbrush so I'll have to wait until this bad boy has been worn out a bit. Then I'll be able to, open the next one up which is exactly the same and wear that out. Then I'll be able to buy a normal one. Infuriating.

Michael "Kramer" Richards continues his hilarious comedy routines in America. I've been fascinated by this guy after his initial wacky outburst and subsequently amusing apology. This story is still a pretty big deal in America. Turns out that it is taking all sorts of bonkers tangents. Apparently Michael is a proud member of the secret Masonic order; The Scottish Rite of the 33 degrees. Tinfoil hat wearers will be aware that these guys are supposed to be the top of the top. The uber-illuminati shape changing lizards. He's one of them*! It's all kicking off.

Here's the all powerful shape shifter appearing on The Rev Jessie James's radio show:

Direct link.

Further twists in the tale include a couple who claim he sp#nked off a while back with anti-semitic nonsense as well calling a heckler a "fucking Jew" and adding "You people are the cause of Jesus dying" in April 2006. This led to his publicist adding recently that the remarks were made as 'part of the comedy act'. He also added that Richards is himself Jewish...

Ahem - he later clarified that Richards has no Jewish ancestry, was not born into the Jewish religion, and has not converted to Judaism, although he "adheres to Jewish philosophy" and "had some very potent and important mentors in his life that were Jewish".

F#cking brilliant!

Here's the people he offended, they want money and I'm of the opinion that it'd be funny if he had to give them some:

Direct link.

Well done everybody.


*I'm not sure if it actually makes him a f#cking lizard or not. You'd best ask David Icke, he'll fill you in. Unless he thinks your a lizard. I think he thought I was. No matter how hard we tried they just would not do an interview on my old phone in. I think he thought I was going to ridicule him. Imagine!

Enlightenment is a rejection of self imposed childish behaviours.

Recently I've been getting hip to the concept of ironing my own clothes. I felt sort of grown up as I took out the iron and got ready to sort out a few of my shirts and pants. "No more creases on these bad boys," I implied to no one with my proud body language. For many years I've had a rational fear of incredibly hot metal. This fear was re-enforced as a kid by the fact that one of my best mates had a nasty scar on his left hand where his skin had been accidently melted as a toddler by a falling iron.

Putting these paranoid* fears to one side I decided to start with my nice brown shirt. "It is, after all, my favourite shirt," I chuckled to myself as it shrivveled up under the iron while making a horrible smell. Boll#cks! You try and do a good thing and that happens. Totally ruined my favourite shirt in about 0.5 seconds flat. No warning nothing.

I was so annoyed with myself. Why didn't I check to see if it could be ironed? Damn damn damn.

Hours later I'm getting a phone call off my flatmate; "How are we? I think I left the iron on today mate," he said. I told him it was me. I remembered as soon as he mentioned it. Proof right there that I'm a f#cking idiot.

The whole episode has made me more determined though. I'm going to conquer the world of ironing without predictably burning myself. I'm going to get good at it and do it often. There's ambition for you**.

Here's some video of Stewart Lee, I ordered a copy of his new DVD today. This is a promo clip of it. I think he's my favourite comedian at the moment.

Direct link.


* I recently listened to a talk about evolutionary progression where the concept behind the word paranoid was dissected. We are only here because our bodies come from a long line of constant threat detection and anticipation machines. If our ancestors hadn't been paranoid we wouldn't be here. Be proud of your paranoia!

** There's a debate in literary circles which centres around the use of sarcasm in the written word. Most people claim you can't do it unless you're a very acomplished writer. I claim I can do it without being an acomplished writer. How do you do it? You put a little asterix next to the sentence which is supposed to be sarcastic and then tell the reader your intentions.

Junkies and mice.

Here's today's Monday dog. Aren't dog's really clever? They can do tricks like this one is doing here. What trick is it doing Nick? Well, it's going the, "give me a paw" trick. My dog was very good at that trick. I think little tricks like that prove dogs are much better than cats, which of course they are. This picture was taken by my sister and sent over to me on bluetooth I think. There's still no fear of my running out of dog pictures anytime soon. My phone is full of them. If you want to send me a dog picture pop it in an email and I'll feature your dog next week on Monday's Dog Picture.

A few days ago I was driving over the pennines with my mate. Actually, he was driving and I was a passenger. I'd had a go at him about wearing a seatbelt so he'd got one on but oddly I'd forgotten to put mine on. As we went over the woodhead pass, or the snake pass, one of the two, we had to swerve to avoid various people who were stood on the road. "Bloody hell," muttered my mate as we wove in and out of all the different obstacles. Then suddenly, the unthinkable happened and another car came straight for us. My mate swerved and hit one of the metal barriers which stop you flying off the edge of the hill. As he hit it I fell out of the car and onto the grass, only to look up and to my horror watch as he fell down into the gorge below.

I was horrified.

I quickly picked up his car, popped it in my pocket, and ran home to Mummy and Daddy. There I told them what had happened and insisted that we call the Police or and Ambulance or something. My Dad asked if my mate was okay and I gingerly opened up the car door. Blood oozed out of it. I rang 999;

"Hello, I need an Ambulance quickly, my mate's been hurt in a car crash. I think he might be dead!"

"How do we know you're serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you might be having a laugh."

"No, seriously, I've looked in the car and there's loads of blood oozing out."

"That might just be tomato sauce."


"Okay, we'll come and have a look."

I was totally confused and really distraught. Then my Dad said to me "how do you know that you haven't just made all of this up?". I got annoyed and told him that my mate was definately dead. "How come you're alive then?" he asked. I explained how I'd fallen out because I'd not been wearing a seatbelt and he laughed and said "have you not thought that you might be dreaming yet?".

I felt like such an idiot. It's the second time something like this has happened. What annoys me even more is that as soon as I twigged it was a dream I woke up. Ruined.

This You Tube clip is very funny.

Direct link.

This one is the same thing but funnier.

Direct link.


(Sunday) Make way for the revolution.

"Hmmph, some idiot pushed past me when I was stood at the bar," complained my girlfriend as she sat down opposite me yesterday. "That's annoying, there's some very rude people about," I muttered as I tucked into my Guinness.

My turn to go to the bar arrived and as I stood there patiently some c#nt tried to do the exactly the same thing to me. It wasn't the same person, I'm sure, but they were literally pulling me out of the way to get to the bar. Unfortunately for them I was in a bit of a bad mood and I half instinctively slammed my elbow as hard as I could right into their solar plexus. I immediately felt terrible about it. I turned round and saw my victim staggering backwards, slightly winded. As I faced him I said "whoops, sorry mate, I didn't realise... err... you took me by surprise there, I'm sorry". He gasped a bit and said "huhhh - nohh thaa ats okay, huhh" as he sort of held his hands over where I'd thumped him.

I'm not a violent person and despite the fact that moments ago this bloke had tried to push me to one side like an animal I felt genuinely guilty that I'd just hit him so hard. It wasn't really called for. This always happens with me, if I kick off at someone all the anger has gone by the time I've landed my first blow*. But he was being rude and perhaps he learned a little lesson there.

I certainly learned a very important lesson later on that night when we moved to a different bar. As we snuggled down into new seats, who should be sat opposite us but matey who I'd thumped ealier on with my elbow. There he was. Turns out he knew some of our friends in a very vague way. Friend of a friend type thing. He didn't acknowledge the incident directly but he was full of bravado and certainly had a lot to say to us. Mainly he spoke about football scores and how his team had won an important victory that day.

I hate football** and I can't be doing with the sort of people who shove it down your throat. In fact it turns out he was altogether quite a disagreeable bloke but I still felt bad that I'd hit him. The lesson I learned is that he's a person just like everyone else and you shouldn't go fighting fire with fire. Or something.

However, today I read an article in the paper which really annoyed me. It was about smacking your kids. It was in the Independant and it quoted a woman who is lobbying to enforce anti-smacking laws as saying "You wouldn't hit your wife, why would you hit your kids?". It's the sort of sound bite which initially makes you think, "well she's got a point there". Then on closer inspection you analyse the logic and realise what wrongfooted argument that is. The answer's very simple; your wife is an adult who can decide right and wrong for herself whereas a kid is not. Your wife would never choose to run out infront of a bus for fun. Your wife wouldn't think it was funny to try and drink green paint. Your wife wouldn't stick a silver chain up her nose, to see what it felt like. All these things I'm aware of kids doing and rightly getting a bit of a clip for.

I don't have any kids myself, but if I did I'd want the right to be able to correct their behaviour swiftly with a little slap. Obviously I'm not talking about beating the f#cking s#it out of them and anyone who can't understand that should not be allowed to have kids of their own, let alone comment on how we raise ours.

I'll bet that the idiot who pushed past me in that bar wasn't corrected as a child.

It's a bet which I don't expect to have confirmed either way. Unless he reads this blog, hunts me down and dishes out some justice for my "accidental" tw#tting. As he does I'll make sure I ask him if he got smacked as a kid.


*Sh#t, I sound like someone who does this regularly. I don't. I'm not a fighting person. Last time I hit someone properly was at Secondry School in the playground. And they hit me first! I can picture this being read out in court one day as I try to defend myself against assault charges or something. Seriously, I only glanced the bloke. And he really was a tw#t.

**Spotted on the train, proof football fans are often ar#eholes, bloke with a t-shirt which read:

"If women were meant to play football, God would have put their tits somewhere

-- Gordon Sinclair.

Come on, you don't have to be a woman to know that anyone who wears a T-shirt like that is an utter c#nt. I should have fallen elbow first onto him.

(Saturday) Whip snap and the little cat.

My flatmate Matt told me how yesterday he had the following conversation:

Hairdresser: "I seen that new Borat film, have you seen it yet?"

Matt: "Yeah, crap wasn't it. Tell you what, that's two films Sacha Baron Cohen has made that were rubbish."

Hairdresser: "Boring wasn't it? ... That Borat though, he's come up from a right poor country hasn't he?"

Matt: "How do you mean?"

Hairdresser: "Well... you see it on the film, they show you how poor they all are. I felt sorry for him. I hope he makes some money from his film."

Obviously Matt was a little lost for words. I find it sobering that there are people in this world who aren't really keyed into the same reality as me at all. I'd have thought it was f#cking obvious that Borat wasn't a real person but apparently it's not.

Imagine what her world must be like. She presumably thought she was going along to see a documentary of some kind. In some of the promos Borat says that if his film doesn't do well his Government will kill him. No wonder she wants him to do well.

I hated the Borat film with a passion and was surprised to find today that two of our mates really enjoyed it. It was hard for me to believe that anyone could have enjoyed that piece of s#it film, much less two people who appear to have functioning brains. It was quite a shock. Still, that said, we were just coming out from the cinema where we'd just watched the new Bond film.

I hate James Bond films and this one was every bit as good as I expected it to be. The only thing about it that was interesting on any level was the sheer volume of product placement*. Car logs and mobile phone logos and every possible type of corporate c#ck was on display in full. It annoyed me that they went to such lengths to present the brands to this maximum capacity theatre. Then things took a really odd turn as right in the middle of this plug-fest James Bond was given an identification chip implant.

It gave me a real shock to see it happen. Interestingly the chip isn't portrayed in a particularly positive light and it's also deceptively easy for Bond to remove it towards the end of the film but its presence in it ties in with everything that those conspiracy nuts I'm trying to leave behind predicted. They always said it would be marketed as something which aspirational role model types would have. A high society gimick and also something that young people would want. And there it was, right in the middle of this film being programmed into the consciousness of this packed out cinema.

Try as I might it's f#cking hard to shake off the ramblings of those conspiracy nuts. Mainly because time after time their ramblings seem to come true! Later on me and my girlfriend saw a programme on More 4 called Suspect Nation about the subject of microchips where the presenter himself actually has one injected into his arm. Fortunately the magic of the internet makes this programme available right here and now for you, my dear reader...

I warn you though, this badboy is 47mins long. That said, I reckon they'll take it down in the next few days. It's google video are getting pretty quick on copyright content. Oh yeah, here's the direct link.

I distinctly remember laughing at a conspiracy nut in the late 90's as he ranted on about microchips in some Louis Theroux programme. How funny I thought, he thinks they're going to try and stick microchips in us. Ho ho ho. Doesn't seem quite so funny these days.

I look forward to the microchipping agenda stepping its efforts up a notch next year. See you in hell!


*Product placement. Like when people mention a brand name in order to get favours etc. Like, for example, if I started telling you how great Greens Health and Fitness is. You know, if I went on about the excellent facilities and then went on to tell you how good its staff were. It's quite a tricky thing to do without seeming like a c#nt. Product placement I mean, not going to Greens Health and Fitness. Going to Greens Health and Fitness without seeming like a c#nt is easy to do. In fact it's got a Nick Margerrison no c#nts guarantee.

Don't allow them to put a label on you. Don't be an X Y or Z.

You know when you hear a tune that you've not heard for ages and you just can't help but sing along? For that moment you're transported back to the first moment you heard it and you throw caution to the wind and chime in with the words. Mumbling them in places, sure, perhaps not always in tune with the music but certainly giving it all you've got and loving every second. Living in the moment.

That happened to me today and it was an awesome feeling! There I was caught up in the music, singing away to myself and unfortunately everyone else in the gym. I was wrapped up in my little MP3 bubble again and I'd totally forgotten that I was in a room full of people. The only reason I noticed is because everyone turned and looked round at me with an expression which said, "what the hell is wrong with you?".

I was so embarrassed that I almost fell off my exercise bike.

Obviously I shut up immediately and then swiftly slunk off into the weights room. I never usually go in there but I decided to pretend to lift some loads, move some metal and pull some pounds.

Or whatever it is these sweaty thugs* do in here.

Now my exercise sheet says that on the shoulder press I'm supposed to do 5 kg. That's the lowest possible weight? In fact it doesn't involve putting any weights on the thing at all. I'll look like a proper wimp infront of all these thugs. Madness. I'll pop another few on there, must be a misprint. I can probably do about 30kg's.


Bloody hell, I don't usually make that noise. My arms really hurt. I'll take those weights off and do it. Ouch, it still really hurts! And I look like a wimp. F#ck's sake. B#llocks to this.

I fill up my water bottle and go back into the bike and treadmill room. Soon I'm back in my MP3 bubble but my shoulders still really hurt. Then oddly enough a little later on my batteries run out and then, and this is true, I overhear some bloke talking to himself and singing. "Aha, he's done the same thing as me," I think and turn round to give him a sort of knowing look. Unfortunately that look landed on the face of a bloke who actually seemed to just be a bit mad, I think. Unlike me he wasn't wearing any headphones. He was just sort of shouting and muttering to himself while looking quite confused and very sweaty. He started swearing a little and then left.


*It's just thuggish in my mind. I've got a terrible bunch of stereotypes in my mind about the sort of people who work out in these weight lifting rooms. I imagine them all to be thick, vain and self important. I think the reason I believe this is because of kids TV and cheap films from the 80's. Most of them seem normal enough, apart from the odd weirdo freak pumping away.

Chewing the chocolate

Bloody hell! YouTube is not a good way to wake up in the morning. I started off by trawling round for more news on the Kramer the racist stuff I posted a few days ago. As expected the story is still running but there are no real new developments. are suggesting that he previously blew off at some Jews in the same sort of manner.

I've always wondered how people manage to be racist against Jewish people, it's impossible to tell if someone's Jewish in my opinion. I really have no way of knowing. Jewish people just look like white people to me. You've got to be really into your stuff if you're going to be an anti-semite and let's be fair, most racists are pretty stupid so how do they manage to know who they don't like?

So, I'm flicking round YouTube and somehow I go from KKKramer to people getting tasered. Initially I fall on a video where some drunk punches a police officer and then gets a taste of justice. "Ha ha! Lovely stuff!" shouts my brain. So I click on another video and boom, it's some bloke getting tasered for no reason. And again. And again. In fact, that seems to be all that the clips of taserings provide. Depressing footage of people getting tasered for no reason. It was only that first one which I felt was justified.

It has put me in a foul mood. I'm reminded of the milgram experiement which in my opinion proves something like Nazi Germany could easily happen again. It was only 60 years ago. We've not changed much in that time. Stupid thugs wandering round with a badge will carry out all manner of self rightious violence if someone who is their "boss" tells them to.


We're sleep walking into a f#cking police state. It's so obvious when you look at the way the world is going. Portable fingerprint scanners, microchip technology, ID cards, CIA sponsored terrorism, the list goes on. What do you do? Bury your head in the f#cking sand and wait for them to find you?

I've been listening a lot to the track "Ohio" by Neil Young recently. It was recorded as a protest song after 4 students were shot dead by the American National Guard during anti-war protests. Anger was further stoked by the President attempting to justify the murders on television later. It's an awesome tune and it always gets my eyes going.

Here's the tune with a montage sort of explaining it a bit.

Direct link.

I'm in a really foul mood at the moment, not helped by the fact I've put on 1.5 pounds at Weight Watchers. F#ck. I hope that's not the real reason I'm in a bad mood. It might be actually.


Judge Dredd ate my hamster

Good lord I was tired this morning. It's because I've been going to the gym a lot recently. My girlfriend told me that when I go I should "feel the burn" so I've been doing more than I usually do there this last few weeks. When you're wrapped up inside your MP3 bubble like I am though it's hard to notice.

While I was there I saw some twonk doing headspins in the corner of the room. It annoyed me, for no good reason. I think I was either jealous of him or I was just annoyed at the idea of someone doing something so silly. Not sure which. Probably the latter as in reality I don't think I'd want to go doing things like that.

A large part of me wanted to walk up to him and push him over. It was a really strong irrational urge. Obviously I managed not to. The fact it would have hurt him put me off the idea a bit. That and the fact that he'd surely then dish out a sound beating to me once he realised what had happened.

The thing I've noticed about the gym is that there seems to be two distinct types of people who go there. The uber-people and the sluggish people. The uber-people are trim and fit superbodies who live in that otherworld which I only occasionally glimpse. The world where no one is fat or boring and the only TV anyone bothers with is lightweight and mainstream. They drive in big posh cars and have massive f#ck off houses. They like going shopping for clothes and watch football. You know the type.

Then there's the sluggish geeks who go there. They're looking in the mirror at a body which has had its best days already. It's taken a beating in terms of food and abuse and it'll never look good again but still the sluggish people go to the gym in the vain hope that one day this will be different. They pretend that the ubers aren't there as they listen to their MP3 players and dream of what they're going to eat when they leave the gym.

There's no inbetween! Not at the moment anyway. It's pre-christmas and only the hardcore are going at the moment. Occasionally a normal person will accidently go but they don't stick it. It's just the uber-people and slugwarts. Battling it out. Looking at each other with contempt.

The bloke doing a headspin was an uber. Actually, make that c#nt. The bloke doing a headspin was a c#nt.


Here's someone doing a headspin. Tell me that's not the behaviour of a c#nt.

Direct link.

Email this one (Tuesday) to a mate. It's brilliant.

My effervescent* mate James Piekos was very encouraging about my new stand-up material. I've spent some more time writing it today and without wanting to curse it I genuinely feel quite confident this time round. I feel it's starting to take shape and sound like a proper set. It's at the point where I'd actually tell it to someone in conversation because I thought it was funny. I guess that's where I've been going wrong previously. Maybe.

I had a really quite bad radio show tonight though. Not awful but just loads of little technical hitches which got me wound up. You know, like when you have a day where you're bumping into things. One of those days when you can just tell that you're going to drop the ball someone just threw over to you. And it'll knock a coffee cup over. And all the coffee will go on a computer. One of those days.

Unlike me, Phoneboy had a cracker of a show. He's sounding really good at the moment. I was horrified to hear his story about getting scammed of his cash card details though. It's one of the reasons I refuse to buy stuff over the internet. Only today I sent an email to the people who are organising the release of the Stewart Lee DVD and email asking if I can order with a cheque via the post. He said yes in the end. The link to the site where you can order Stewart Lee's new video, including a few sample clips, is here. Please report any c#nt who goes pumping out pirate copies though. I don't mind so much with the big companys but it takes the p#ss a bit with the littler ones.

Talking of comedy here's another "hilarious" Kramer clip for your enjoyment. Like I said in my last post, this is big news in America and the videos are being removed almost as fast as they're being posted. Mainly for copyright issues. A few searches on YouTube should find them if this has been taken down by the time you read it. "Kramer, apology" and "Kramer, racist" should do the trick.

Here's the direct link.

Personally I think the matter should be over with now. He's made a mistake, paid the price, what do you do? I'll tell you what though, this is America and I'll bet this story will keep on running.


*I've ummed and ahhed over the idea of putting up a quick definition of the word "effervescent" here. "On the one hand," I thought, "it's sort of patronising to the majority of readers who will know what it means". "Then again," I pondered, "we've suddenly had a big influx of Americans who are oddly taking an interest in this blog and everyone knows they're thick as sh#t so...". It's a toughie! No doubt about that. By the way, if you are American I'm using that famous British sense of irony when I describe you all as thick. You're not thick. Unless you needed me to explain that. Erm... now where was I? Aha! Definition of "effervescent" from Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
ef‧fer‧ves‧cent  /ˌɛfərˈvɛsənt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ef-er-ves-uhnt] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
1. effervescing; bubbling.
2. vivacious; gay; lively; sparkling.

Um. James is not "gay" in the American sense. He's "gay" in the British sense of the word. Just so you know.

He's not a homosexual. At least not in the British sense of the word.

Neither am I.

In 2012 the internet becomes self aware and regards its parents with the same look that they reserved for their predecessors; the apes.

The Monday Dog

This picture is proof I am a fanatical idiot when it comes to gathering dog pictures. To the untrained eye this looks like a picture of a car. Look closer and you'll see, in the back window, a dog resting with its paws out infront of it. I saw this little b#gger when I was driving from Tescos having done a bit of shopping. Originally it was sat up and as I struggled to get my camera phone onto it I genuinely almost crashed my car. As I took the picture it decided to put its head down and have a little rest. As a result I almost crashed my car taking a picture which most people don't even believe contains a dog.

Today during my show I had a call off the infamous "Jim on the motorway"*. He mentioned that a friend of his was a reader of this blog and that they'd got the impression that I was going to be making a return to speech radio soon. It was good to chat to him off air about life the universe and everything for a while.

I've been trying to write up my stand-up comedy routine recently. It's sort of taking shape. I think it's better than it ever has been and may actually go okay if I can get some stage time soon. My last performance resulted in me getting soundly booed off stage. I'm choosing to use that as a learning experience but have scrapped plans to turn the sotry of how that happened into a stand-up routine.

Here's some video of one of the stars of Seinfeld, Michael Richards, being hilarious recently at a place in America called The Laugh Factory. He's the bloke who played Kramer. I never really understood Seinfeld, a mate of mine thought it was genius and as a result I gave it some serious time but never quite got it.

The outburst is big news in America where people are more than a little ticked off with his racist nonsense. What I love about the video is that firstly it's a sign of how much things are changing in the media. No mainstream media organisation would broadcast this but nowadays there's no way of stopping it getting out. Secondly I love the way that the atmosphere in the room changes slowly as people realise that Kramer hasn't really got anything funny to say once he's laid down the racial slurs. Thirdly it fascinates me that you've only got the car crash and not whatever it was that preceeded it. Apparently the blokes he's having a go at were talking through his act. That's one of the most f#cking annoying things in the world! Why go to see comedy and then talk through it? Why? Insane.

Still, it's Kramer who ends up looking like a c#nt. Such is life when you're doing stand-up comedy. The direct link is here. I enjoyed reading the debate which follows in the comments section.


*If you go into the sidebar of this blog you can find some audio of him on my old phone in show. He would regularly ring me up and tell me I was an idiot. 9 times out of 10 he was probably right. Despite rumours to the contrary he wasn't a set up caller. He was the real thing. Very good caller though and rightly one of the most famous.

The Hitmeter is slowly struggling towards the 10,000 mark

I'm a big fan of the writer and thinker Richard Dawkins. It heartens me that he made his recent series about religion. It's great that you can just download it from the internet*. It's annoying though, that we live in an age where irrational concepts such as religion still exist. Largely it is something which you inherit from your parents and is often an expression of love for them. It took me a while to suss that out but nowadays it's very apparent to me that in actualy fact that's how the whole thing works. "Mummy and Daddy believed so I do to," is the implicit message most people will give if you talk to them about it.

Perhaps I'm projecting here. My Mum and Dad are both atheists. Then again they always maintained that it was up to me if I wanted to follow a God or not. They even let me go to church! I used to go to a C of E church every sunday for a while as a kid. I genuinely used to believe in God. The thing which initially talked me out of it was the bible itself. Unlike most Christians I actually read the thing. If you can seriously do the same and then retain your faith you're f#cking out there man! It's a wacky book, no mistaking that. Faith or no faith.

I once had the square circle argument put to me in a book I read a while ago. It goes like this:

Can the all powerful God create a square circle?

A - Yes.

B - No.

If you answered "A" you are someone who must accept that your belief in God is irrational. Irrational people are easy to mislead, let us hope that you have not misplaced your faith in the wrong deity!

B - No. You recognise that a square circle is not possible and therefore have applied the physical laws of the universe to an all powerful god. The thin end of a thick wedge which ultimately should be able to remove you from your faith entirely! Either that or you don't believe in God in the first place and you're just playing along for fun.

There's the problem I guess. Preaching to the converted.


*Here it is. It's massive, I don't even know why I'm posting it here. No one will watch the full thing:

Here's the direct link.

Here's the link, click here.

(Saturday) These words represent a piece of my brain. The piece which came up with them. Nothing more.

The little poll which I've got going in my sidebar is tickling my naturally contrary nature. The question I've asked the readers of this blog is; "Were the attacks of 11/9 an inside job?". The results are currently "Yes" 45%, "No" 30% and "Maybe" 25%. I voted "Maybe" in the poll when I was checking to see that it worked properly.

Oddly this current result has sort of annoyed me. I've never quite made my mind up about the 11/9 attacks, or indeed any of the terrorist attacks. I talk a good conspiracy game but when push comes to shove my sympathies lie with the establishment. I once read a description of George Orwell as being "a typical British subject, awkward but loyal". I think I'm in the same vein.

A mate of mine recently texted me to ask about a lyric in The Beatles's song 'Revolution'*. On the single edit Lennon chants: "You say you want a revolution/ Well you know/ We all want to change the world/ You tell me that it's evolution/ Well you know/ We all want to change the world/ But when you talk about destruction/ Don't you know that you can count me out... in."

Those last few words sum it up for me. In interview Lennon said it represented the fact that he wasn't sure about the idea of smashing the state. I think I'm the same. Guess that makes me flakey.

My problem is that I'm never sure about anything. I've always lived by the dictate that knowing the answer to the question means you no longer need to think about it. Not thinking isn't good. Surely therefore it's always better to eliminate the possibility of certainty from any answer you give to anything. That way you never stop thinking. The idea of not thinking anymore scares me. I genuinely believe there are some people who just give up thinking. They decide to knock the whole process on the head and just slip into the routines of their life. The walking dead.

I want to be able to always challenge anything and everything. I believe that's the best way. Get yourself into the mind-state where it's possible that a super being from beyond the realms of truth is just waiting to pull up the curtains of reality and laugh "surprise" into your stupid pudgy face. Maybe not. I'm not sure.

Rule #1: There are no rules.

Rule #2: Even rule #1 is not absolute.

Rule #3: No smoking in the communal areas.

Challenge everything. Even that statement.

Mmmm. I think I've lost the thread a bit here.

Perhaps the reason that the poll results have irked me is that I'm worried that parts of the UK are suffering from a myopia as regards radical Islam. I watched a series of programmes today about Al Queda and so forth. I think it's important for people to remember that there are some people who really do fu#king hate Britain and all that we stand for.

Always good to have that in mind.

I think.


*He knows me as a major Beatles fan. I'm without doubt a bit of an obsessive when it comes to their stuff.

F F F F add five and what do you get.

Phew! Look* at this dirty beast. Saw this little f#cker crawling around on the floor in my parent's house. Quite ironic that such a huge b#stard should be roaming about in a house where the two people I know who are most scared of spiders live. My sister and my Mother both f#cking hate them with a passion. I'm not too bothered about them personally and as a result I think the odds of finding one this size in my grubby little flat are practically zilch.

I'm of the opinion that spiders should be caught and then thrown out of a window. This gives them a fighting chance of survival. I'm ALWAYS horrified by people who just kill them. That seems both morally wrong and f#cking lazy.

Oddly though I really do think spiders, like dogs, are drawn towards those who fear them!

For example, if you're removing one from a room where there is an arachnophobe it's almost impossible not to go "whooo" and run up to them with it in your hands. You wouldn't do that with anything else. It's just spiders, they use their spider magic to make you do it. That has been proved by scientists.

For many years I used to think in enormous detail about Spiderman and how exactly he generates his web fluid. Spiders pump it out of the bottom of their body, it comes out from between their legs. In the comics Spiderman pumps it out of web cartridges from his wrists after he makes it in his secret lab. I used to think I was the only person sad enough to wonder if it actually came out of his scrotum via his p#nis. You can imagine my relief when I read a comic strip which touched on this delicate matter in the first issue of the fantastic Phlegm Comic.

If you're unaware of it I suggest you find out about it as soon as. I've just re-read them all and they're great. Really great.


*Finally. I've been f#cking about with Photoimpact for about half an hour trying to upload the b#stard the right way round. So large was the beast that I took its picture with my camera lengthways. I had to rotate it the right way using Photoimpact. It took me ages to find the command. Unfortunately for me the picture they use on PhotoImpact is a picture of a t#at. His smug face annoys me like mad. Here he is:

He puts me off using the programme with his stupid c#ntish face. It's annoying. Look at him! He's much more scary than the spider. I know looks aren't important but everyone knows they're significant. Particularly when you're judging a picture. I just don't want to be part of that bloke's world and by using PhotoImpact I feel as though I am.

Chup chap hup cap

Doing the job that I do it is possible to sleep all day. Nowadays I'm mature enough to avoid doing that sort of thing, unless we're talking about exceptional circumstances. Or just instances where I'm being f#cking lazy. Sadly this is one of those instances. There's actually nothing more depressing than realising you've wasted an entire day, doing nothing whatsoever. What's worse about it is that I didn't feel any less tired than you normally do when you wake up in the morning. In fact, if anything, sleeping in seems to make me feel more knackered.

I've long thought it would be good if you could bank sleep like you do money. Spend a couple of days sleeping and then not have to bother for a week or so. I once heard that Captain Beefheart* once didn't sleep for a whole year. Probably b#llocks but certainly an exciting thought.

I'm excited by some of the posts I've had recently in the comments section of previous entries particularly one about Vernon Kaye:

Anonymous said...
I went to university with Vernon's brother. He was a good lad but whenever I see Vernon I want to burn his eyes and tongue out! He's obviously not allowed to do Family Fortunes with members of the public because he's so useless only fame-hungry celebrities he's worked with before will touch him with a bargepole.

Brilliant. An anonymous post, proof, if indeed it was needed, that Vernon Kaye should be renamed Vermin Cun#. I have a rational dislike of attractive successful blokes. It's just one of those things. It's not jealousy. I'm not jealous. Why should I be jealous? I feel sorry for him if anything. So there. Who's jealous now?


*Don't tell me you don't know who The Captain is. Seriously, don't tell me that. It wouldn't make sense because I've posted two videos of him under this bit here. Firstly there's a treat for people who do know who he is, it's the Captain playing live in 1971! Secondly there's a video for thick people who do not know who he is but want to learn. Direct links to both are posted below.

Here's the direct link.

Direct link.

Finally here's a slightly suspect video which goes along with one of my favourite tracks in the world. It's The Captain singing along with his best mate the late Frank Zappa. They're doing a song called Willie The Pimp and it's genius. It always, always, always makes me smile and for about three months it was the tune I always woke up to in the morning. Good for ya! :

Here's the direct link.

(Wednesday) It's not quite what I was wanting.

I lost 2.5 pounds at Weight Watchers. This is a good thing and reflects the fact I'm going to the gym quite a lot at the moment. My MP3 bubble being the main reason, I don't even notice myself going there. Lovely stuff. I think I'm now prepared to do some sort of mundane manual work when this radio thing all goes wrong. I'll be able to plug in to the MP3 player and I won't notice a thing. Perhaps Morrisons will give me my old job back cleaning toilets? Never know your luck. Quite an easy job that. Got sacked in the end though. Demoted to doing the tills.

Talking of toilets I seem to be getting more and more stage fright when I go for a wee willy winky these days. It's infuriating. Stood there at the urinals and feeling like you're the only one who hasn't had a wee yet. Jealously listening to the gurgle of the bloke stood next to you. My fear is that in my impotent frustration I'll try to force it, go one step too far and s#it myself. There's really no excuse for that. Sh#tting yourself as you stand at a urinal.

I recently listened to an interview with the woman who wrote that book about cosmic ordering which Noel Edmonds popularised. It was part of The Unexplained show which last went out in September. She struck me as nice but flakey. I wonder if positive thinking would help me as far as visits to public urinals go? I'm walking to the toilet fretting about it before I even get there so I suspect the problem is entirely psychological. Perhaps in the future I should try and break the ice a bit by making conversation with the people stood next to me.

"Hello mate, you're doing well to have started p#ssing already aren't you? Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Nick Margerrison. I get a little nervous in situations like this nowadays, I'm not sure why but I'm trying to work through it. Any tips on how to go straight away like you just did then? What's the secret of your success?"

A positive thinker would surely think this a good idea. You're probably sat there being all negative about this new tactic I'm formulating. "He'd get his head kicked in," you'll be thinking. Or is that me putting my negative spin on you? Clearly it is as I'm not able to know what you'll be thinking right now. No one can ever really know what anyone ever thinks. Ever.

I don't think I should start talking to strangers at the urinal though. It'd only make things more complicated than they already are.


(Tuesday) Choices don't come, time ticks by, energy is gone.

"F#cking Vernon Kaye, look at him, the c#nt. Presenting Family f#cking fortunes. What a t#at. A sh#t show and a s#ite presenter. What a c#nt. He's putting that accent on for a start. I bet he doesn't talk like that in real life."

"What? You just slag people off for no reason. I like Vernon Kaye."

"He's a c#nt. He's insincere, playing the role of stupid northerner. He's a d#ckhead."

"Why don't you like him, it's like that Jamie Oliver rant we had before, they're just nice blokes."

"He's a c#nt as well. You can tell. It's in his eyes. Pudgy faced wa#ker."

"Why, what's he ever done to you?"

"I remember once on that Friday Night Project thing he slagged off Justin Lee Collings for having a beard. There you go. Proof positive that he's a c#nt. And he's a Tory."

"You said you were going to vote Tory!"

"As a joke. I'm not going to vote for any of them. They're all tw#ts."

"Yeah, as a joke Jamie Oliver slagged off Justin Lee Collings for having a beard. It's a comedy show."

"Many a true word spoken in jest," looks smugly as if that's a point scored.

"No, he said it as a joke."

"When's X Factor on?"


(Monday) Supposed to be random but it ends up being the source of the entry.

The Monday dog picture...

Look at this cheeky little fella. Me and the lady were out in Manchester with one of our mates when we saw this cabbie who had decided to bring their pet out with them for the day. That's not my girly hand stroking his chin, it's our mate's. I haven't worn a wristwatch in years*. If I had a dog I'd want to take it around with me. My mate Scottie McClue takes his dog in to work with him. It's called Reith and is one of the nicest animals you're ever likely to meet. Liking dogs is a sure sign of good character.

However, I've spotted an obvious flaw with the idea of having an event like "the monday dog" which is so day specific. Although these updates are always thought of on the day in question I often publish them late. As a result today is not actually Monday. This will probably end up getting published on Thursday. Ruined. Still, it's a good dog picture isn't it?

Apparently I am a:

You Are a Pundit Blogger!

Your blog is smart, insightful, and always a quality read.
Truly appreciated by many, surpassed by only a few

I'm not entirely sure that's accurate but I did answer all of the questions on the above poll as honestly as possible. The reason I took the time to fill it in is that I'm constantly trying to improve this blog and I haven't really worked out what the best way to do that is. It has improved, I think but it's very hard to tell. We're coming up to a year now and looking back at some of the old entries is an odd experience. Some of them seem obviously dishonest and that annoys me. I'm constantly being reminded that truely great people sincerely do not give a flying f#ck what others think of them. Just so long as you believe what you're doing is important it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

Prancing about worrying about saying the wrong thing is not something I always do but I can see it in some of those early postings. I think I've outgrown that a bit now.

I've often thought that the way to really do a blog is to theme it. Write about something specific, like politics or conspiracy theories or something. As I stumble towards my first year as a blogger I'm unsure if that's right or not. Probably not.

Bloody hell eh? Almost a year.


*Despite the fact that it's fu#king years since I wore a watch I still look at my wrist tag when I go to the gym if I need to know the time. I'll be looking at it for a second or so thinking, "I don't get it, what's wrong with my watch?". Then I'll realise it's not a watch. Then I'll remember I've not worn one for years. Senile at 29. Brilliant.

(Sunday) Oh my god I've got loads of stuff for here.

My little love affair with Alex Jones* has ended in dissapointement. I've been recently listening to his radio show as a podcast and enjoying some of his nonsense on the website, however, recently I've noticed that he seems to get his facts wrong on things. Flat wrong. Quite frequently. It's dissapointing. For example, his film Terrorstorm asserts that the London bombings were carried out in the UK before the election of that year. That's wrong. I recently stumbled over this bit of audio where he talks about handgun laws in the UK, managing to get his facts wrong yet again. It's annoying. Particularly given that a lot of what he's doing is getting irate that the powers that be are bending their facts to fit a pre-determined world view. I've emailed him my thoughts but don't expect to get a reply anytime soon. It was fun while it lasted.

The problem is that now I'm sort of conspiracy theoried out of the game. He was my little key to the weird world of excitement and danger that comes with thinking that the New World Order are about to destroy you. Other than him there's David Icke I suppose but he's clearly a bit bonkers. You can't prove his stuff wrong but I don't seriously believe that the world is controlled by shape-changing lizards who live in the lower fourth dimension. Not until there's at least a shred of evidence for it anyway.

In my at points quite desperate searching for something interesting and silly I've landed on the idea of looking into a UFO cult. You know, these people who believe we've already been contacted by aliens from outer space. They seem like fun and to this end I'm going to spend my spare time looking into their stuff for a bit, despite the fact it's f#cking insane.

Quite excitingly there's a group of people local to me who are part of the Aetherius Society. They're one of the first ever UFO cults. Their late founder used to hear voices which told him;

"Prepare yourself! You are to become the voice of Interplanetary Parliament."

He was clearly a legend. I'm thinking it might be fun to go along and meet them, see what's what. They're based in Barnsley. I've heard that they prey for ages and store up their preying power in a battery! Brilliant.

Failing that there's the Unariuns who seem to have the best stories and the Raelians who have the highest profile. I dunno. Maybe I should get on with writing my stand-up set, waste my time like that instead.


*Who the f#ck is Alex Jones? He's an uber-conspiracy theorist who has a very entertaining and bombastic style of presentation. He does a radio show and makes films about the New World Order and their plans to destroy our freedoms. There's links to his stuff in the sidebar. Use them while you can, I'm thinking of tidying that thing up soon so they might not be there forever.

(Saturday) Pick the cherry blossom and pop it on your tongue. See you on the other side.

Yesterday I went to see a Deacon Blue concert with a mate of mine who has a myspace page here. It was an odd experience in that I enjoyed it but wasn't quite as blown away as everyone else appeared to be. I'd always thought of Deacon Blue as an okay band, not an awesome one but certainly not a rubbish one either. The rabid reaction of their crazed fanbase at this sell out theatre gig therefore took me a bit by surprise.

After they did a pretty solid cover version of a Neil Young song I decided I needed to go to the toilet to have a wee wee so I got up and headed through the rows of seats. That was, as you'd expect, awkward. While I stood at the urinal I could hear the audience start whooping and cheering to the opening notes of one of the bands precious few hits. Coming back down the aisle way was a frought experience. When I got to the end of my row I was grabbed by a big fat woman who started dancing with me. Not wanting to spoil the mood I sort of smiled at her and shrugged then decided to duck out and run to the bar.

There was an odd crowd of people at the gig, not the sort you might expect. I even saw someone getting turfed out by security, into a waiting stretch limo? Madness.

If anything the whole experience reminded me how much of a fan I am of Neil Young. He's great. Not so long ago I saw a film about him which made me cry like a little baby it was so good. It would annoy me to think that anyone who reads this blog didn't at least have the chance to know who he is and so with that in mind I've posted a couple of videos of him below.

Here's the direct link.

Oddly today when me and my girlfriend went out to a bar, this song "Old Man" was blazing away on the sound system. It put me in a good mood for the rest of the night.

Here's the direct link.

This is a song I want played at my funeral. It's one of the most powerful songs ever recorded and it always gets the tears in my eyes. This particular performance I have on VHS, it's sat over in the corner of my bedroom and it's a cracker. Awesome. If you don't like it I don't like you.


(Friday) Spotting my first few splatterings of grey hair. It's odd to think I'm getting old now. 30 next year. That will seem young one day. I hope.

I had an interesting journey over to Manchester as my little MP3 bubble was briefly pricked by some bloke arguing on his phone behind me. I noticed him because the two women sat opposite me were giggling away as he tried to both reason with and score points against her. Everyone on the train could hear the dopey c#nt as he got more and more annoyed; raising his voice and getting increasingly theatrical with her.

My MP3 player can record things, so I switched that function on and sat there thinking how amusing it would be to listen back to this hapless halfwit quibbling away with someone. "I could post it on my blog," I thought. "How funny that will be," went my evil brain. "Everyone can listen and chuckle at his tragic desperate anger". "Nothing funnier than something so pathetic," I reasoned. After all, everyone else on the train was finding it hilarious.

As I got off the train I eagerly listened back to it and slowly discovered that I had in my hands a piece of audio which was in fact quite depressing. As a purely audio piece it was quite sad to listen to. The comedy had vanished and all that remained was the obvious tragedy that this poor bloke had been reduced to arguing in public with someone he'd once fallen in love with. Rather than telling strangers how much he loved her he was telling them that she was "just being petty again, like always". Those early passionate moments had faded and their power had been replaced with an opposite destructive energy. It was a pity and a shame, nothing more.

I remember once walking along with my girlfriend and arguing about f#ck all in an equal fashion. There was a bloke infront of us who listened for a while and then turned round and confronted us saying something along the lines of:

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I think you should stop arguing and make up. I've got cancer and I'll be dead in less than a year. You two have got each other and you should enjoy that. You'll be dead soon. Life's too short."

Once he was out of earshot I laughed at him and called him a pr#ck, then made up with my lady. It annoyed me that he'd said something so trite but I think it also got to me that he'd been absolutely correct. I imagine the poor bloke will be dead now as this was a few years ago. He didn't look well at the time.

As I remembered this incident and listened to matey arguing on my MP3 player it struck me that there's a possibility the cancer guy had been lying. If so it'd make him an even more impressive chap. What an awesome way of shutting people up. "Hello, I've got cancer, get a bit of perspective you twonk". Genius.

It annoyed me that I'd had neither the inspiration or the balls to do something like that on the train. How amazing that would have been. Particularly if I'd have kept taping it.

On a totally different tack; I've noticed quite a significant influx of people in America who are finding this website by Google with my name as searchwords. This is odd as I do not have any public profile in the USA at all. I don't really have one in the UK if we're being frank about things. Nothing more than a secondary school teacher might reasonably expect for example.

It's just odd that in the last few weeks I've had about 30 or so people who have found this website by putting my name into Google. If you know why this might be, I'd be interested to know.

I recently used the website to see if it might be another Nick Margerrison but I can't find any obvious evidence of that:
LogoThere are:
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

Maybe sitemeter is f#cked. Who knows. Perhaps one of those soundfiles of the phone in has "gone viral"? I'm thinking out loud now.

Also, while I'm on the subject of links, Dan Wood from Radio Aire in Leeds put me on to this online television site:

It's very good.


Promote this site. Tell everyone how great it is. You love it you slug. It's different everyday. No adverts on it either. Done for fun.

Something has to be done about the rude people who live in this world. I'm not a violent person but I'm starting to think a calculated policy of instant slaps might be the answer. That'd just make things worse though, right?

It's starting to tick me off though, like a minor irritant which will eventually explode pressure cooker style*. It just amazes me how many humans there are who think it's okay to be rude. For example I was driving along in my car today and a woman pulled out infront of me. She had her hand pressed flat out against her side window in a sort of "stop there" signal but the bit that really irked me is the fact she was so obviously flatly refusing eye contact. She was barging in and all her body language said was "f#ck you"! That's what people do. They pull out infront of you, block you off, act like a t#at and think it's okay if they can just avoid eye contact.

Another thing that grates on me is people who do not respond to a smile or a little "sorry" comment or something. You know the type, they bump into you like a c#nt and then they think it's okay to let you say sorry without even acknoledging you're there or more importantly that it's actually their fault. I can't work out what I'd like to happen to those sort of people, lets for the sake of argument call them by their official name; 'ignorant c#nts'. I've ranted about people who don't return a smile before, I'm of the opinion that they are on the rise and must be stopped. The only problem is I don't know how best to do that. Slapping the c#nts isn't likely to work is it?

Perhaps it'd be good if they got a quick slap everytime they behaved like a t#at? I dunno. Something needs to be done.

Maybe I should learn the lesson of yesterday's post and be a little more positive towards them. How that would work I don't know. Maybe I should just not let them irritate me. Or, maybe I should shave my beard off. Apparently most people distrust men with beards. Perhaps that's where I'm going wrong. I think it makes me look too mean and tough. Not a good thing. It needs cutting down anyway.

Rude people. They're rude. I've cut my beard down inbetween that last paragraph and my current one what you're reading right now as we speak. Looks okay. Now I'm not as fat as I used to be. We'll see what the boss thinks when she sees it tomorrow.


This guy's a bit of a legend. I found him because he was busy slagging off Alex Jones.

Here's his take on the recent elections in America:

Here's him rapping about conspiracy theorists:

And here's a link to his fantastic YouTube page.

*Am I the only person who remembers an episode of Neighbours where Harold Bishop got caught up in a nasty exploding pressure cooker accident? Probably I am. I remember it chiefly because my Mum was and is terrified of hers blowing up for no reason so I grew up thinking of them as stupidly dangerous objects. A bit like toasted sandwich makers which I remeber my Dad once declaring to be "the f#cking devil's invention those things" when he burnt his finger on "the bastard" once. He was livid. Put me off them for years as well. Good job, they don't half make you fat!

"She tried to kill me. Just like that. Didn't work though. Jack's a smart one." he coughed into the night.

I've added a new poll to the siderbar. It's about the attacks on the twin towers and is my attempt at seeing how many of the 'tinfoil hat brigade'* read this blog. I'm a bit of a conspiracy theory fan but it's easy to drift out of touch with reality when following such ideas, David Icke being a classic example.

I feel obliged to explain that it's about the twin towers because in a moment of madness I decided to go against the fashion of favouring the American style of formatting the dates and went instead with our own. 11/9 is how it should be written. In retrospect it looks a little churlish to write it in the correct fashion and I sort of think I should have done it the wrong way round. I hope no one thinks I'm being disrespectful by sticking to our conventions.

I think I'm a little out of touch with my fellow primates. I've been trying to write some more stand-up recently after my awful stab at it last month. The new stuff I'm trying to fashion is about how I wished Kylie would die of cancer. I'm not trying to make jokes about people dying of cancer. I'm trying to write something which makes a joke about the fact that I ever thought it in the first place. It's a tricky bit to write but it's honest. I'm trying to steer away from just telling a joke, pausing and waiting to see what the reaction is and then telling another joke. That's not why I'm trying to get into stand-up.

Everyone I've mentioned it to has been horrified, apart from my friend Tom Binns who hasn't yet replied to my email about it. Perhaps unlike everyone else he'll think it's a great idea. I doubt it but you never know. I've posted a video of his mate Ivan doing a live gig recently. If you follow the link below it you'll find a myspace site full of stuff. I still feel myspace is in some way wrong and refuse to sign up myself.

The results of the last poll I posted on here which asked the question, how many times do you read this site, were as follows:

54% said they look at it everyday, 25% said they check it out every other day and the remaining 13% said they looked about once every three days with 8% looking once a week.

Quite an interesting result, for me, as it suggests we have a reasonable huddle of readers here nowadays if you go by the day to day stats. This is no mean feat considering the link via the Hallam FM website appears to have been deleted! I only just noticed last night when someone emailed me to ask why. The fact I didn't notice a significant drop in traffic is quite a surprise**.

Now a few months ago I'd have probably said the reason they'd deleted it was because they were going to sack me soon*** but oddly last night I learned an interesting lesson about positive thinking. I was sat there doing my show and reading out a story about a dog which has been stopped from catching the bus to the pub. As I sat there looking at the texts coming through on the computer the following one popped up onto my screen:

Cant u stop makin stupid stories up bout dogs wer not botherd? Put sum records on and play them all the way thru. The saint

Now a few months ago I'd have tried to ignore this but ultimately would have let it get to me. At the moment though I'm in a pretty positive mood and so I decided to ring the guy up. Turns out he was a really funny bloke who was just mucking about with his mates and apparently enjoying the show. I recorded the call and put it out on air. It made for a good bit of radio as he challenged me on air about the truth of this news story I was doing. I liked him and he called in later for the midnight mindbender feature.

I guess the moral of the story is that a good 50% of your life experience is determined by your attitude towards it. If you approach things with a positive mindset they're more likely to go well than if you don't. Urrgh. I'm pumping out trite nonsense there aren't I? Stating the f#cking obvious. Still it's a lesson I enjoyed re-learning and if you're at the start of your day today try and apply it, see what happens. Maybe even post the results in the comments section.

Part of my positive mood is down to the meeting I had today with my (still relatively new) boss. He's got some great ideas about stuff and it's exciting to have a fresh perspective on things at work.


Ivan Brackenbury - Hospital Radio Roadshow part II

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I don't know if the above HTML code will have worked so this bit is a good old fashioned link.

*An amusing expression used by Neil in the comments section of the post I'm linking to.

**I can't think of a way of thanking people for reading this site without being cheesy so f#ck it, here's a nice cheesey thankyou. It's nice of you to pop by. So, thanks.

***This is a joke, if you work for The Sheffield Star and are looking for a scoop, I'm contracted for a while yet so there's no exclusive here. Not yet anyway. Give it time.

Merchandise available now.

I wish politicians would understand that if you add "war" to a problem you only ever make it worse. War on Drugs = more drugs problems than ever before. War on poverty = gap between rich and poor wider than ever. War on terror = more terrorists and more terror.

Today I took quite a stressful call from someone concerned that the soldier who has been killed in Iraq recently might be a close relative of theirs. I had no way of knowing as the news we do at that time of night is sent via satellite to us from a newsroom in London.

I had a quick look on the internet while she was on the phone but couldn't give her anymore detail.

The strange thing is that it really brought home to me the horrible reality of what our society is doing at the moment. I'd literally spent all of my day in a nice little bubble that I've been developing for some time now. My MP3 player accompanied me to the gym where I worked out for a bit. Then I came home and spent some time reading back issues of the fantastic 2000AD comic I get delivered every week.

I drove to work with my little MP3 player entertaining me all the way and then settled down to do some show-prep which involved me mainly getting together interesting and amusing elements of pop trivia. The bubble had me in quite a contented mood. I'd had nice food and all in all it had been a good day punctuated by me thinking how lovely the world can be.

It's shocking then, to remember that our country is currently occupying another for no good reason. It's even worse to know that a 19 year old kid has been killed as part of that.

The question is; what the f#ck do you do about it?

I was thinking I might write a letter to Tony Blair.

Dear Tony

I voted for you and your New Labour Party in the UK general election of 1994. I was in fact an active member of that political party's youth group. I remember being very excited when you got in. What the f#ck went wrong mate?

Yours Sincerely,

Nick Margerrison.

The sad part is that I think he'd know what I was talking about. I'm of the honest opinion that he knows the war was a bad idea but I've nothing to base that on other than the fact that he looks and acts like a decent bloke. It's too much for my little mind to take the idea that he could possibly believe that invading Iraq like that was a good move.

A mate of mine who met him once said that he makes a point of overlaying his hand when he goes in to shake it. Sort of overpowers your hand on purpose. I don't know why that surprised me. He's obviously in reality not a very nice bloke at all.

Politicians are really just f#cking gangsters who get away with it. It's legalised crime. He's at the top of the power pyramid*.

Currently he's trying to secure his legacy with a round of interviews and PR stunts. There's no doubt in my mind that he will always be remembered for the war in Iraq and his Government's awful, quite unexpected, authoritariansm. The Tories will of course be worse.

I sincerely hope that the woman who called me finds out that the awful news she feared doesn't actually affect her family. I also hope that they bring our troops home soon. There really is no need for them to be there. Let the Americans take care of their stupid war on terror.


On a lighter note, a while ago I watched Russell Brand in a comedy club, before he was famous, being a rubbish stand-up. Turns out he's quite good now. If he writes all his own material I could end up being a fan.

*Or so they all say, right conspiracy theorists? He just looks and acts good to fool fu#knuts like me doesn't he? I know his game. I see things... mumble mumble.

No matter what you do, never forget that people are scumbags.

Oh dear. Last night I munched on some crisps and had a sandwich despite being on my total points allowance. You're allowed to go over by 4 points if you make it up the next day but unfortunately I went over by 5 points with my silly pickled onion sandwich antics.

Yes, that's right, pickled onion sandwiches. There's a sketch in the late lamented series "Bottom" where Eddie prepares a trap for Ritchie which includes 'a pickled onion sandwich'. I've never heard of such a sandwich outside of the confines of this comedy programme so I'm not sure if part of the joke is that such a sandwich would be disgusting in real life. Some time ago I made one and really liked it.

Bottom of course isn't on the telly these days and they've stopped touring it as well. I always feel a little pang of guilt when I think of those two. The reason for this is when they came to Sheffield to perform 'Bottom' I went on air and slagged them off as being past it and out of new ideas. Later in the year I heard an interview with Adrian Edmondson which was being conducted in Sheffield City hall. He sounded a bit glum and was talking about how he was going to knock it on the head because it was all a bit old hat and people were getting sick of it. I literally froze when I heard him, one of my childhood heroes saying exactly what I'd been saying.

I'm not under the impression that there's a definite connection between the two events but when I heard him talking I immediately felt guilty. He sounded so bereft and emotionally drained in the interview and the idea that I might have in some way contributed to that was an awful thought. So, y'know. In the even less likely situation that either of them even end up reading this blog here's a meesage to them both:

"Hey guys. I love you. You're both brilliant and without your comedy stuff my life would have been a little duller."

Now I've made myself sick. You just can't win can you? F#ck it all.

Here's an amusing Mighty boosh live piece which they did for the recent Amnesty event. I hate to say it but it's not really thier best work. They're getting a bit tired these days aren't they?

Then again it is a charity gig.

Oh balls, not again.

Erm... in the unlikely event that they ever read this please refer to the above message initially intended for Ade and Rik.


Pull my brain inside out and shoot it like a drag.

Last night I wandered upstairs after my radio show and got a cup out of the cupboard, added a teabag and put it under the tap which dispenses boiling hot water to thirsty Hallam FM employees. The water splashed all over the place. Fortunately it missed my hand and I turned the machine off. Like some sort of rubbish slapstick comedian I'd not noticed that the cup was upside down and that the teabag I thought I'd thrown in there had actually landed on top of it. I decided to capture the moment with a picture of the cup immediately after the event. In many ways I think it proves that a picture is not worth a thousand words. Without these words I've used here it'd be a meaningless picture whereas without the picture these words still make sense.

That saying has always annoyed me. I'm not an overly visual person. A picture of 999 words, what would that be worth? Surely less than 1,000 words? What's a picture of one word worth? Silly saying. I wonder if the person who coined that phrase was prone to absurd slapstick moments like I am though? Probably was with sloppy logic like that.

Speaking of sloppy logic can you suss out the following conversation?

Me: I'm all up for a new phone and cheaper calls mate, all I'm saying is that I'm not prepared to give out my personal details to someone I don't know.

Telemarketer: I understand completely sir, all I need is your name and your postcode.

Me: Right, but that's not right though is it? I don't want to give you my name and postcode. I just told you that. I don't know who you are. You claim to work for Orange but I have no way of knowing that. Can't you just send me all this in the post.

Telemarketer: No sir. I need to get your details so you can take advantage of these offers.

I've had a lot of calls recently from people who claim to be from Orange and want to give me phone bill discounts and new phones but have no idea what my name is. It's more than f#cking annoying.

Immediately after finishing this call I noticed that the pineeapple chunks which I was eeeating tasted reeally bitter. I kept eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.*

After the call I went back to eating my pineapple chunks which I'd got on the go. They'd tasted fine before the phone conversation but now they tasted sharp and bitter. It annoyed me that the phone call seemed in some way to have soured my tastebuds so in an act of defiance I continued with them but they seemed to get even more spicy and odd tasting. In retrospect they must just have been a bad batch. They played hell with my insides, I've still not quite recovered, but in many ways I still blame telemarketing.

Why do they say they understand things when they clearly don't?

Here's Monday's dog picture, designed to cheer you up if it's your first day back at work.

I'm not sure if this is one I've been sent or if it's one I took myself. My dog picture obsession has lasted for about a year or two now and I really do have about 100 pictures of random dogs on my phone. Each picture is brilliant for a different reason. This one is brilliant because you can see that the dog is tied up and waiting for its owner. Dogs are happy to wait for their owner for hours. Cats simply would not do this. Even if you tied one up, it would somehow escape and run off. Notice also how this cheeky little scamp shows no interest whatsoever in the person who is taking its picture. It's focused on the task at hand, waiting for its owner to return. Humans like me could learn a lot from this. The picture of the cup is an example of my lack of focus in life. I actually believe dog's are far more intelligent than humans and if we handed over the machinery of the state to them instead of people like Tony Blair the world would be a better place.


*That's it. My "E" key is truely f#cked now. I'm just going to have to use it without a key on it. Bo#locks.

(Sunday) There but for the grace of goth I go

I think the reason I used to believe I liked fireworks is that as a kid I mainly used to watch them through the back room window of our house. Every November the 5th my parents used to offer me the following deal; bonfire night OR a new toy instead. I'd usually go for the toy. My favourite of the lot was a Spiderman throwing star with little suckers on it. Ahh, happy days.

When I got too old for toys I started going along to some of these firework displays people used toeee. B~llocks.*

When I got too old for toys I started going to bonfire night parties. Turns out they're rubbish. You stand there in the cold, pay about £4 for a toffee apple which sticks to your hair and then spend the rest of the night worrying that somethings going to land on your head. Then, after you've dodged some stupid toddler who's waving a sparkler perilously close to eye level as their Dad carries them around, you go home feeling cold and a little deflated.

Fireworks look okay but make annoyingly loud bangs. They're also f#cking dangerous. Loads of people hurt themselves every year because of this inane custom of ours. Usually because some bloke is trying to do his own firework display for the family in their back yard. I wonder how many halfwitted alpha males gave their loved ones a night to remember by dazzling them with the sight of a firework stuck in their eye socket? Bound to be a few.

The truth is that fireworks are best enjoyed through the window of a backroom, like this one here:

I took that picture today as me and my girlfriend occasionally looked out and went, "woo, look fireworks". That's the only response you can really give to them. Going outside to stand with a load of people you don't really know so you can say those three words doesn't really do it for me.

If I had my way I'd outlaw the whole thing.

Apart from bonfire toffee, that's quite nice.

On a totally different tack, I am of the opinion that this guy is what's known as a "f#cking legend". I'd see him promoted for this little swift display of justice. Over two million people have enjoyed his moment of clarity in our mad little world.

Angry Proffessor, direct link.


*I'm going to leave the above typo thing in. It occurred because my keyboard has given up. The "E" letter on it has decided that every now and then it's going to literally jump out of its place and land on the floor. How it's managing to do that I do not know. I'm clearly going to have to buy a new keyboard. That's annoying. However this blog serves as a nice little record of my keyboard's healthy lifespan, I got my computer around June. It's had 5 months of healthy life. Not long really.

(Saturday) In the field of avalon, my oh my how far I'm gone

I went and watched the new film, Borat, this weekend. If you miss one major film this year make it that one. It was un-believeable b#llocks. Really, staggeringly rubbish. On the same sort of level as the Ali G film. As I staggered out of the theatre it was hard not to dismiss Sacha Baron Cohen as anything more than a tedious unfunny racist. What annoys me is that I find his TV stuff to be consistently good*. I really don't understand why the films he does are so consistently bad. Perhaps its that there's no morality to his work whatsoever and although on the surface that sounds exciting what it means is that there's no real substance to any of it. Without any passion or soul in it a film is usually a rather vaccous experience. This one was no exception. Good parody requires an inherent love of the subject you're attempting to ridicule. There's no love in this film for the "wacky foreigner" type which is its subject. It's just a sort of nasty cruel boring attack on a culture which doesn't even, in reality, exist.

Here's a word for word exchange from my radio show:

Caller: "I thought it was great"
Me: "What? What are you? An idiot?"
Caller: "Well, I did have my tongue down my girlfriend's throat at the time"

Bingo! He's a kid, he didn't even watch it. He's only saying he liked it becuase of ther massive media campaign behind it. The only area in which I feel able to compliment the film. They did very good work promoting it via the internet. It was on myspace. F#ck I think I even posted a video for it**. They even did a special preview through the evil Myspace site and a mate of my girlfriend's went to see it. He told me it was good! It was s#ite. But he told me it was good? I suspect he did so because he'd been invited to a premiere. It'll have excited the fool. Arrgh. I feel genuinely conned.

It'll end up being like The Eminem film. Sh#tloads of people go and see it and on that level it's a success but everyone who goes will feel strangely undernorished for the next few days.

I certainly felt emotionally bereft after I'd watched it.


When I think about it I run the risk of getting drawn into a big black hole which is sat in my memory and still retains the raw power to literally suck joy from my mind.

So I'll stop thinking about it. It's s#it. Don't bother with it. If you do and you like it, add a comment below explaining what the f#ck is wrong with you.

If I inadvertantly drew you towards that piece of sh#t film I'd just like to apologise.

To make amends here's a clip of the world's greatest stand-up comedian. Go buy his DVD it's great. In fact I think if the clip below doesn't amuse you, you're really not allowed to carry on reading this blog. Sorry.

Here's the direct link.


*I seem to be alone in this. Everyone else has noticed he's past it. But, I don't understand, his TV stuff makes me laugh! It must be funny. Mustn't it?

**Here's the link to that entry. I was caught up in a viral marketing campaign. I am a fool.

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