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Amazing how easy it is to jump off the wagon

March 17th

Having stuck religiously to my weight watcher's diet I stumbled off it yesterday with a mate of mine's banana cake. Jolly good it was too.

I'm doing the weight watchers diet where you're allowed a certain number of 'points' each day. Everything you eat goes towards that day's points total and so long as you're eating the allotted amount you'll lose weight. You need the number of calories and the total saturated fat in your food portion to work out the number of points. However, the problem with weight watchers, is it pushes you slightly in the direction of junky ready meals and pre-packaged food because it's easier to work out the number of points in a bit of food if it's got the measurements printed on a label.

Specially made fresh banana cake, although healthier than something out of a supermarket, is harder to point. This was all the excuse I needed to fall off the wagon and start pushing food into my mouth like there was no tomorrow. The logic of a fat person rarely makes sense.


Telly visions

I have finally spent £500 on a telly after our old one broke. It’s a 42 inch plasma that’s supposed to be HD ready. Or full HD, I’m not sure. I’d been put off buying a telly last month by a shop assistant who tried to sell me a “gold plated cable” for another £80. “Without this it’ll be rubbish though,” was his argument. It reminded me of the time I decided not to hand over money for a new computer after the bloke trying to flog me it started bumbling on about how I needed to spend £45 on virus software or within minutes of connecting to the internet the machine would be ruined beyond repair. What kind of a product pitch is that?

‘Yes, you can buy this car, but if you don’t give me another £45 by the time you’ve gotten down the bottom of the road it’ll be scrap metal’.

The look on the chap’s face as I called a halt to proceedings with a swift, “we’ll not bother then cheers luv,” was quite a picture. It was as if he wanted to say: “Oh, but err ... come back, I was lying about that last bit”.

My girlfriend gets a little tired of my curt attitude with salesmen but if I’m spending anything over a tenner I get upset if I can smell the sort of substance a bull turns its food into. We had the same problem with one of the TV salesmen we encountered who tried to make the case that HD ready and Full HD are the same thing by saying:

“Well, I could scribble out Full HD and write HD ready on this label if I wanted to” (??)

“Right, well, we’ll not bother then cheers”

“Oh, err, well these are only on offer for a limited time and, uh, they’ll all be more expense soon so...”

“Yeah, great, cheers”

He looked absolutely crestfallen and was pulling at one of the labels forlornly as he muttered about his special offer. I presume the bloke was on commission, which is quite astounding considering his lack of knowledge regarding the product. You could cross out Full HD and write HD ready on that label, but it would be illegal to do so under the trade descriptions act. There is a difference albeit very slight.

In the end I just went into a supermarket, looked at a few of them, (they’d dropped in price) and bought the biggest. My mate told me I’d got the “chav sized” telly. It’s a technical term apparently. My girlfriend thinks it’s best she goes into the kitchen to watch it from there. Despite myself I love it. The playstation looks amazing, GTA has never been so much fun.


PS – My brain has been putting together a list of famous televisions and so far I’ve got: Evil Edna off Willow The Wisp, The Simpson’s telly and the one in the Royal Family.

People are strange...

Given that I’m a professional conversationalist I’ve decided I’m going to try and ignore the social taboo which has grown up these days as regards talking to strangers. If the person I’m sat next to doesn’t look like a criminal or a nutter I’m striking up a conversation with them. It’s going quite well so far.

I spoke at length to a woman in London who sat next to me on a bench today. She was eating a bun. We had a conversation about the tube, how good London is, the fact you can’t realistically use a car during rush hour and diets. It was a good experience and I felt pleased to have broken the silence that hangs between two people in such situations.

As I write this a chap has just sat down opposite me with a lap top. I’m in one of those places where you get internet access. He’s got spikey hair and a stressed look on his face. The irony of what I’ve written is painfully apparent to me as in this instance I can’t be bothered to get into a conversation. I’ve already had one and it seems a shame to risk it ...

Nope – he’s on his phone now. There’s my excuse. Actually, that's silly. I'll wait for him to finish then casually strike up a conversation. What's the worst that can happen? I'll report back in a moment...


Well, that went well. We chatted about Sonic the Hedgehog. I'm not sure how that happened. This experiment is quite fun. And I managed to keep the fact he looks a bit like Sonic to myself. Excellent.


Which came first, the marketing or the product? II

Randomly, on a train, two cheery bods gave me the chance to play on the all new Nintendo DSi XL. If, like me at the time, you have no idea what that is, it’s a handheld games console. However, much to my disappointment it didn’t have Super Mario on it. It just had some daft “brain training” game. The idea of which was that you remembered a load of words, drew a few pictures and then had to connect some letters and numbers. After about ten minutes or so it told you how old your brain was. I had the brain of a 72 year old. The idea is that if I keep playing this game my mental age will gradually reduce and this is supposed to be a good thing.

You may remember a load of slightly rewritten press releases appearing in the newspapers last year which tried to establish the myth that there was some sort of scientific basis behind this. Without doing a shred of research into the matter I’ll bet that claim is shaky at the very least. That said it’s a great way to market a dull computer game: play this and it’ll keep your mind young. It puts a positive spin on the accurate perception that playing computer games is the sort of thing kids do. Play it for long enough and you’ll have the brain of an eight year old!

Once again I’m inclined to ask: which came first, the marketing or the product?

I'll stick to Civ IV and GTA thanks.


This blog

March 13th

My attempt to write a blog entry a day is taking its toll. Some of these submissions are compiled from hastily scribbled notes written down on the day they are assigned to. It’s usually something like “hate my hair” or “fan clubs”. I’m amazed that I managed, for so long, to keep up the momentum of a daily blog in the past when I had far less free time than my current regime. I think it’s good to get back into the habit and there’s a reasonable chunk of people who are once again logging on to this site and reading my silly ramblings.

I worry that it’s all a bit Adrian Mole sometimes though. Particularly when I get behind with entries and only have notes like the one for today which say: “nothing much happened, did radio show”.


I'm a fan of clubs, which club do I join?

Fan clubs seem a bit old fashioned these days. I imagine you’d join a “facebook” group if you liked a popstar in the 2010’s. I was a member of the 'Dennis The Menace fan club' – “DING DONG” was their secret password, I think. I was also a member of the A-Team fan club for reasons that were a mystery to me at the time because I never requested membership. I later started to suspect that one of my cousins had signed me up as there was a prize for any A-Team fan club member who bought a membership for one of their friends.

Also, as a wacky ironic student, I joined The Spice Girl’s fan club. Of the lot this was the most disappointing one because I recall getting very little in return for my membership.

A mate of mine told me he was in the He-Man fan club and he got given a special He-Man name. It was something like "Stardack".

The most interesting fan club I was ever a member of was ‘The Doctor Who appreciation society’. It was an unofficial club which had formed in response to the absence of any “Who” at the time. Fans of Doctor Who were called 'Whovians' at the time and were much geekier than they are these days. We used to organise screenings of classic episodes on a projector. It was run in conjunction with a ‘Star Trek Appreciation society’, who were considerably more successful in terms of attendance and significantly cooler than us because they had actual girls in their club.

Furthermore, at the time, Star Trek was on the telly whereas Dr Who had been cancelled. The idea 'Who' would ever return was the exclusive territory of crazy drunken tramps ranting in the park. How things have changed.


It's all getting a bit hairy...

11th March

I’m not happy with my hair. It just isn’t working out for me these days. I’ve never really cracked the whole personal appearance thing but recently I’ve started trying, in conjunction with my diet, to at least take an interest. I think once you’re over 30 you have to make a bit of an effort. After almost three years (33 soon) I’ve finally noticed that none of my peers spend as little time on the way they present themselves as I do. Hence my worry about this rubbish hair I’m carrying about on my bonce.

The problem is that there are not many haircuts I really like. Spikey has worn thin on me, hence the need for a change. Centre parting looks wrong. Side parting looks too Hitler. Short looks too army. Long looks too trampy. The only hair style I really like is big and curly. That looks great. Kind of like an afro style. I like that, but my hair is insanely straight. There’s not even a decent kink to it.

Perhaps I just want what I can’t have. Or maybe I should get a dreadful perm. Then I’d soon shut up and worry about something more important.


Already bored of the election...

I don’t vote. I tried it once and didn’t like it so I can’t see the point of doing it again. The last time I voted was during the heady days of ’97 when Tony Blair promised us change and I was swept along in the excitement. Although the dream soon started to come apart, I clung to the idea that Labour were better than the Tories right up until the war in Iraq when, as with the rest of my generation, I realised they were all as bad as each other. Since then my politics have gone all over the place and I just can’t envisage any one person, let alone a whole political party, appealing to me. In fact, I wouldn’t even vote for myself.

I’m absolutely sick of these people who suggest I have some sort of moral duty to be involved in the political system. Why sign up to something you think is rotten to the core?

As I understand it the arguments run something like this:

a) If you don’t vote you have no right to complain when things go wrong.

b) If you don’t vote you’ll let extremists get in.

c) People died for your right to vote.

All of these arguments are clearly nonsense.

a) Firstly, the idea that I have no right to complain about how my taxes are spent doesn’t hold any water. There was no ‘opt out’ on the last tax return I filled in. I’m bound by law to pump money into this system. That’s why I have a right to complain about it. Casting a vote implies I consent to being taxed and suggests I support these people who spend the money I earned. I don’t. To say that because I don’t support the system I’m not allowed to criticise it is the very essence of totalitarianism.

b) I’m not responsible for the people who vote for extremists. They can take responsibility for their own actions, thanks. Let’s be clear about this, the political system in the UK is geared against fringe politics and “extremists”. We’re very unlikely to see the political elite loosen their grip on power anytime soon. In the event that, for example, the BNP were about to take office perhaps I would vote in order to stop that from happening. Until such time arrives I’m not swayed by the idea that I should go and assent to be ruled by anyone simply because they are the least worst option.

c) People have died for all sorts of causes I don’t support it doesn't make them any more worthy, the same is true for voting. The argument that a cause is more worthwhile simply because people have died for it is moronic and exactly the sort of logic that inspires suicide bombers, religious nut jobs and street gang battles. Anyone who puts it forward should consider that first.

Notice that all the above reasons which are supposed to make me want to vote are very negative. Instead of being inspired by visions of how great the world will be if I do vote I’m being coerced to via the attraction of having a moan, the fear that it’ll be bad for me if I don’t, or finally the suggestion that people being killed makes it mandatory.

People who think they support democracy should learn to deal with the fact that the majority of us (ie those like me who do not vote) have just got bored of pretending it’s going to do any good. It won‘t. Sorry to be the one to break that to you. Tomorrow I'm going to explain a few things about The Easter Bunny...


Bursting bubbles

I've recently been compiling a list of stinging critiques which have placed a stone in my shoe when enjoying a particular piece of life or pop culture.

For example, I remember my Dad telling me that 'Batman' was the story of a multimillionaire, Bruce Wayne, who went around beating up people less fortunate than himself. He was of course right and it took me years to get back into the caped crusader. As with all great stinging critiques this was delievered very casually and without malice. I think we were walking in the countryside at the time as I can clearly remember looking at my crestfallen face in a puddle and realising he'd hit the nail firmly on the head.

Another example of a stinging critique is the observation that in films/tv dramas no one ever says goodbye on the phone. They just hang up. This was pointed out to me back in the mid 90's by a friend and still to this day it irks me. What's so wrong with adding 'bye' to the script?

There's a bit of sci-fi scriptwriter's shorthand which is particularly well known to hardcore Doctor Who fans, "reverse the polarity of the neutron flow". It's a meme from the era of fanzines and geek conventions that predates the internet. I remember a friend of mine explaining it and telling me writers use it when they're in a bit of a bind and need some technobabble to get the hero out of an impossible situation. "And now, if we reverse the polarity of the neutron flow there might just be a way out of this..." and hey presto all the Daleks/Klingons vanish in apuff of smoke. Having this pointed out to me lifted the veil a little with quite a few of my favourite sci-fi stories as I realised a lot of them didn't actually make any sense. They just sort of ended with some flashes and soaring music.

There are many more examples. Don't even get me started on Santa and the fact he gives the best presents to the kids whose parents are richest.


I popped the cardboard box in my open fire.

March 8th

The launch of Marmite XO has left me musing over that age old question ... which came first, the marketing or the product? My girlfriend likes Marmite and she enjoyed their 'champagne' flavour. Or, at least, she's been eating it. I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say she's 'enjoying' it. I had a bit and didn't really like the taste.

That's the odd thing about Marmite, their marketing is so pervasive I feel like I should have a strong opinion on it. "You either love it or hate it," or like me feel reasonably indifferent to it. It's alright on toast, goes well with cheese on toast but I wouldn't want it on my cornflakes.

Marmite XO is supposed to be Xtra Old, meaning it has been left longer to mature its taste. It comes in a nice cardboard box and cost four quid. I only bought it because I'd parked my car in the Waitrose car park and was looking for something to buy just in case I was challenged for improper use. I got suckered in by the cardboard box and the novelty value.

Unlike 'champagne flavour' this stuff just tastes like normal Marmite. I had a bit on my toast and thought, 'mmm, just marmite then'.

Actually though, now I come to think of it, this particular jar does have a strange aftertaste to it. It's tinged with the unsurprising faint taste of disappointment and lack of substance.

'Champagne' on the left 'XO' on the right

The kissing problem

My girlfriend says I've ruined kisses by over analysing them.

I was thinking recently that when I kiss someone it's usual for me to make a little "kiss" noise with your mouth. This noise imitates the sound you'd make if you sucked slightly on someone's skin when you kiss them. It seems like a false addition to the ritual. Surely the point of the kiss is that you made contact not pretended to?

Explaining this to my lady caused her to have a little think and then a couple of days later point out that I'd thrown a spanner in the kissing.

Once you think about it perhaps you'll feel equally self conscious when giving your loved one a peck on the cheek.

This blog is nothing if not a public service.


Erwin James in The Guardian

I am not left wing. I am not right wing. You need two wings if you want to fly and I'd like to think I can flap my way out of any box people might try to put me in*. As part of my committment to this way of thinking I always try to read a paper which is the opposite of my usual point of view. This has meant that I've been a regular Daily Mail reader for the last five years or so. Recently though I've started to nod in agreement when collumnists assert that we need to be tough on crime or quake in fear at the oncoming big brother nanny state.

Once I noticed this I thought it was time to find a paper I agreed with a little less frequently so I've gravitated towards The Guardian's opinion pieces. Annoyingly, at first I seemed to agree with most of their version of the truth until I found a piece which quite literally blew my mind. It was like the old days when I used to get riled up about the Mail's take on asylum seekers.

An online (slightly ammended version) exists here.

It's a piece written by Erwin James which argues that 'we' all share in the blame for Jon Venables's recent alleged crime, whatever that might be. I've long had a problem with the word 'we' in this sort of context. Writers use it without seeking the permission of those they choose to represent. I don't give, Erwin James, permission to appropriate my identity under the umberella word 'we'. I suspect most people don't. It's likely, in fact, that the only person in the group he describes as "we" who has can fairly be represented is Erwin James himself. So, it might be more accurate to substitute the word 'we' for 'I' throughout most of the article.

This simple exercise radically reinterprets what he's saying when writing about the killers of Jamie Bulger:


"[T]hey traumatised not just a family but a nation. And in return we traumatised them".

"If Venables has committed a serious crime then due process must be followed. But for this failure, however trivial or grave it turns out to be, we all must share some of the responsibility".


"I traumatised them".

"If Venables has committed a serious crime then due process must be followed. But for this failure, however trivial or grave it turns out to be, I must share some of the responsibility".

Try this exercise with the whole article, it stops being a self satisfied smug finger pointing fest and transforms into to a bizarre confession of sorts. The power of individual responsibility is often missed by someone who flaps only their left wing and, while I appreciate Erwin was only trying to earn a coin by being a bit polemical, it will be more interesting when he uses both.


*I've used this rhetorical flourish more than once during my day job as a radio presenter. It reminds me of a sketch in, The Mighty Boosh, where they parody the expression "stop trying to put me in a box" by having Vince ask Howard who exactly is trying to put him in a box and has he told the police about this yet?

But she was in Atomic Kitten?

I've always had a soft spot for Kerry Katona. Pictures of her popping to her local Toby Carvery have confirmed to me that she's a good girl. Obviously her (past) love of cocaine is a bit of a black mark, I've never known anyone be anything other than an absolute bore on that stuff. Why it's seen as a "party" drug I will never know.

For a few years now I've been putting together a little list of things that are a mark of good character. Liking Winnie The Pooh is one. Digging a good Toby Carvery is another. Liking science fiction. Reading comic books. Enjoying Stewart Lee, The Mighty Boosh, The Office, Alan Partridge, Armando Iannucci.

Perhaps the word "little" is misplaced. It's actually quite a big list but you only really need to have one or two of these preferences to obviously be alright. That's my theory. If I were looking through your CV I'd be scanning for that sort of information just as much as your qualifications and previous work experience.

Perhaps that's why it's unlikely I'll ever be responsible for hiring and firing.


Liars and beggars

Me and my sister went out for a drink today. I've always had a pretty low tolerance for alcohol so after two pints I was spouting all the usual nonsense, click here for an example.

Once the night came to a natural end we rang a Taxi. Then we stood outside and waited. After the third random came upto me asking if I had any money I put in a call.

"Ringing to check on the taxi I ordered..."

"He's there now".

"Well, err, he's not, because I'm stood here and can't see him".

"Oh yeah, he's on his way".

"So, when you said he was there, what did you mean?"

"Oh, err, he's on his way".

Standing in the cold waiting for a taxi it wasn't a pleasant experience to be lied to. It was equally unnerving the sheer number of people who seemed to be wandering about asking people for money on a Thursday night in Birmingham.


Life flows on within or without you

When I was a little kid my Dad took me to the cinema to watch Superman II. During the film I managed to be that annoying little brat that talks. Although I don't remember it my Dad tells me that I had a deep need to tell everyone that I was on to Clark Kent's little game. His trick with the glasses didn't fool me: "He's Superman! Clark Kent's Superman everybody! They're the same man!"

This week me and my sister have been having a full on New Age fest. She went along for a past life regression at: It's the place where we did a regression on the old Kerrang show.

My sister has always been into ghosts, astrology and tarot. We've been messing about with Tarot cards predicting each other's futures and generally indulging in the odder end of life. It took me a while to get to a point where I was secure enough to look into these things without the intense need to debunk. Part of the trick to enjoying these things is allowing yourself to accept that they exist in that nebulous weird part of reality where dreams might mean something and there's no such thing as a co-incidence.

On the other hand you can't be Superman all the time so it's important you always have your glasses to hand. Use them whenever you start to feel out of your depth, it's amazing what they can reveal. I suspect 'the truth' lies somewhere inbetween and is not something I'll ever understand.


Bite down on that!

Tuesday 2nd March

I have a squeaky toothbrush. It's a new Aquafresh one and it has been fine for the first couple of weeks. Now however it has started making the sound plastic fibre makes when pressed and rubbed against teeth. The noise its making is going straight through me like the sound of nails grinding down a blackboard.

I can't work out if I should buy another one or persist with it. I can put off the discomfort a little when the noise rattles through my teeth and down my spine but only for so long.

Makes me shiver just thinking about it.


Dr Krotoski and my girlfriend's indignant wrath!

Monday 1st March

I made a fatal error when settling down to watch the recent episode of "The Virtual Revolution". As me and the lady curled up on the couch I mentioned that I thought the presenter, Dr Krotoski, had nice hair. This made my girlfriend a bit territorial and led to a series of accurate cynical attacks on the show. "Woo - spooky music," she added as the programme tried to explain that the internet is bad because it has advertising on it.

The more I watched with this sarcastic commentary the more I was inclined to agree that this particular episode (The Cost Of Free) wasn't the best of the series. The idea that I should run screaming from the internet because it might try and sell me things is a little silly. I've worked in commercial media all my life and have made peace with the idea that there's nothing wrong with giving someone a chance to pay you to promote a product. So long as everyone is clear on the deal and the advert is obviously marked out from the content it seems a fair transaction.

Still, The Virtual Revolution, thinks targetted ads are something to fear. Again, I'm not clear why. I'd rather have an advert I might beinterested in than one for something I'm not. The irony, as my girlfriend pointed out, was that mostly this message was hammered home using advertising techniques. Scary music, chilling cutaways and emotive wordplay.

Other than that though I've enjoyed the series so far. And the presenter's hair is nice.

But not as nice as my girlfriend's.


Common questions and attempts at answers...

Why does the media only ever seem to report bad news?

If you see a man with a gun out of the corner of your eye you'll focus on him. The media wants your focus so carries his picture.

Which came first the chicken or the egg?

My favourite easy question! The egg came first, dinosaurs lay eggs. They predate chickens. This question comes from a religious mindset which sees the world as being something created, according to a plan. Once you accept this world is a work in progress which grows as opposed to being made this "eternal quandry" vanishes.

Why does time seem to be speeding up?

It's all about perspective. When you were one year old 6 months was half a life time. When you were two it was only a quarter. At the age of twenty six months is becoming an even smaller fraction of the time you've experienced and so on.

Why, when we've had ten years of a so-called socialist Government, have the rich continued to get richer and the poor poorer?

The gap between rich and poor is a direct consequence of our banking system, it's not really connected to social policy.

Nice simple diagram of the banking system:

PEOPLE IN CREDIT (ie with money)




(ie without money or needing it)

If you're in debt to the bank in any way you'll know that there's an extra fee added to that debt in both interest and extra charges. That money does two things, it pays for the service and goes into the hands of those people who are lucky enough to be in credit. The more money you are in credit by the more this system benefits you.

Times of economic boom in this country have always been based on loans or "investment" and the end result is of course profit which always goes to the people at the top of this system. Money never trickles down unless it has a price tag attached and will eventually rise up again, with interest.

When I had this explained to me last year it literally blew my mind but nowadays it seems so obvious I'm embarrased if I try to explain it to someone in case they pull a face and go "yeah - everyone knows that you idiot". In the times I have explained it to people so far, no one has done that.

Sick of 6 music?

Saturday 27th February

I'm not on board with this whole "save six music" thing. Its got 600,000 listeners. It plays pop music. It costs £6 million! It's not closing until the end of 2011 at the earliest.

Where's the problem?

Adam and Joe are good. They'll find work elsewhere. They were funnier on XFM. They've lost some of their edge at 6 Music. A move will do them good.

Other than that I can't work out what the problem is.

Radio's 1 and 2 play pop music already.

These points of view didn't make me very popular at a gathering of fellow radio professionals recently but there we are.



Friday 26th February

Yesterday I went along to one of my favourite bookshops in London - "Watkins" in Cecil Court. It's an occult bookshop where The Beast himself, Mr Crowley, used to shop. It was closed. I presumed this was because it was probably a special magic day or something. Actually it was because it had gone into liquidation: FULL STORY HERE.

Add to that the fact that "Zen" in Birmingham is shutting down as well and you've got the explanation for this blog entry's title.

This recession is rubbish news.


More Occult books...

Thursday 25th February

I'm reading a great little book on magic, about the favoured form used by Discordians: chaos magic. I'm currently addicted to this kind of literature. However I treat 'Liber Kaos' with more caution than the previous treatise I blogged about here recently: "Enochian Vision Magick". The reason for my caution is down to the slightly more acerbic character of the author Peter J Carroll. He's another occultist who I interviewed last year.

This book is full of great quotes, my current favourite is:

As sunlight obscures the stars by day so does wakefullness blind us to the fact that we are still dreaming - Liber Kaos, Peter J Carroll.


You don't find lines like that in most books.


Dan Morfitt the Pub Quizard.

Wednesday 24th February.

Popped along to a pub quiz recently with my ol' mates Dan Morfitt and OJ Borg. The former of the two seems to know everything. Without exception. So much so that we won by a huge margin. I only managed to contribute the answers to a couple of questions, most of them during the Elvis music round. I've never been a big fan of Elvis, he seems too overrated to me. "Burning Love" is a good tune, as is "Heartbreak Hotel" and "Jailhouse Rock". Other than that I'm left a little cold, he strikes me as a less creative version of Robbie Williams.

The latter of the two of my friends, OJ Borg, is also the presenter on the lottery midweek draw. You can imagine how pleased he was to hear my various theories on how Derren Brown went about guessing the numbers. I don't think he has enough people asking him about that, everyday.


This entry must be worth a free box?

When I posted a month or so ago that I was addicted to Monster Munch I don't think a lot of my readers fully grasped the scale of the problem. After cleaning my car out I've found over fifteen empty packets. Add to that the five I had in my pockets and we're looking at a nice round number: twenty empty packets on my front room floor!

Now, in this period of time I've lost over a stone in weight. I've been counting up all my food and one packet of these bad boys is only 3 weight watcher's points. So not only am I eating loads of s--t but I'm also losing weight. I look forward to discovering the health consequences at a later date.

Their website is quite amusing: For some reason it's got an 18 cert. It's a flash site with some nice quirky touches let down by the fact that if you click on the 'monster blog' (which is written by fans of the snack) you are greeted by a laundry list of complaints posted by people who haven't recieved their Monster Munch t-shirts. I'm guessing the marketing department at Walkers have moved on from the '09 launch activity for this particular brand and so haven't noticed yet.

You gotta love capitalism, no matter what Michael Moore says.



Proof there is no perfect God behind our imperfect design. I've just bitten my bottom lip as I ate a slice of toast. This of course means I can look forward to a good few days of nasty eye watering chomps on my own face as I eat my Weight Watchers meals / Monster Munch*. How can a 'perfect' God have designed my face and forgotten that this food confumption method could potentially produce so much pain without warning?

My only solution to the problem is that 'God' is actually a bit rubbish. He tried his absolute best but every now and then he dropped a couple of balls here and there. My face is one example, the earthquakes caused by plate tectonics are another. I'm sure you can think of more than a few as well.

With that in mind I've decided God just gets carried away with himself sometimes. Look at the universe around us. There are loads of planets in our solar system alone which have no chance of supporting life. Clearly God got all excited made a load of them and then realised he'd forgotten to put oxygen and liquid water on them. I imagine him as a sort of Homer Simpson style deity suddenly gasping "doh!" when he realised his error.

We can see his excitable quality in any of the major religious texts where, once he establishes a psychic link with one of us, he starts off pretty reasonable then the next thing you know he'll be talking absolute nonsense.

I suppose this entry is a protracted exclamation of "curse you God!" as I dry my eyes post lip bite. Still if God really is omnipresent I suspect he'll have a long hard think when he reads my wise words. If he's not omnipresent it'd just be another fact towards my graducally developing thesis that actually he's just a bit rubbish.

Or doesn't exist at all.


*3 weight wathers points per packet.

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