Getting Old

I heard something quite prosaic today.

"... well I can remember when you had to buy olive oil at the chemist and you put it in your ear for ear-ache not in your food for the taste!"

Shit! I can remember that too!

A cure for "Madness"

I'm not much of a one for parties. I don't mind a drink [!] but parties whose invite includes such temptations such as "oooh [insert name here] is going. You'll love him / her, he's / she's mad, absolutely mad!" This general means that the person involved will be the dullest, most puerile cunt you've ever met.
I was at such a party on Tuesday. Had I known that Colin was going to be there or, known in advance what Colin was going to be like, I would have stayed at home.
The likes of Colin don't bother me too much. I have the perfect cure for their ilk. It's called Peter.
Let me explain. Peter is actual spelled PITA and stands for Pain In The Arse. Here's how it works.
Upon being introduced to the "mad, absolutely mad" person, ask them what there name is [although you have probably just been told what it is]. This gives the likes if Colin the idea that they have not made such as big an impact on you as they would have expected. After this [for about ten minutes anyway] take every opportunity to engage them in conversation or asked them things [anything] but always prefix your question with Peter. E.g. "Peter, what's......", "Peter, how.....", etcetera.
The person involved will always correct you on getting their name wrong but never answer your question.
It won't take long before you have them on the back foot and they avoid you like the plague thus saving you from their banal prattle / pranks / jokes.

Americanisms

I'm not a big fan of the EEC, or whatever it calls itself this week. I must admit though, that I do like Americans. I like the place too. Pity then that it's run by a fukin nut case, but then again, look at our government! I'm one of the few who believe that instead of aligning ourselves with the horse eating surrender merchants across the water, we should have thrown in our lot with the Spams and become their 51st state [should they have been daft enough to want us. Well, lets face it, our european "partners" didn't, and still don't, want us].
Love or loath this idea, we are slowly but surely becoming american [with a small "A"]. The latest assault is on our breakfast cereal. "New Quaker Oat Granola" sings the advert. Granola? the American way of saying crushed, processed, glued together oat bits left over from making something else.
How long will it be before McDogs start selling McGranola healthy breakfast- an oxymoron if ever there was! Or Starbucks start serving Super skinny latte fukkercinno with granola sprinkle?
Well, with that petty little thing off of my chest I'll bid you all goodnight .......john-boy.

Gay, Straight or Bisexual

A quirky little piece in the Metro yesterday..

Q: What's the difference between a straight man and a gay man?

A: Six pints of lager and a couple of tequila shots!

.... meaning that if you tip a few drinks down any straight bloke you can get him into bed. Would you want to?

I know it's nice to look at things and wish it was yours, things like the new Rang Rover Sport, B&O 42' plasma screen or a 13 inch dick but, with me, that's about as far as it goes. I'm not one for the thrill of the chase.

I'm not a big believer in tinkering around with trying to get straight boys into bed [anymore]. I must admit that I've done it on a few occasions and it's been a bit of a disappointment. True "straight boys" tend only to be experimenting and don't want to go much beyond the watching each other wank sort of thing. I can do that on my own, and with the benefit of stopping and rewinding the idea [or even the tape!].

The last straight bloke I messed with had been a friend for a lot of years. He offered and, stupidly I took him up on the offer. We were pissed [a bit more than six pints and a couple of tequila shots]. Well after one night of something less than unbridled passion or even semi-restrained lust, we're not particularly friendly anymore. I don't know if it's because he's embarrassed or feels as though he was taken advantage of [he wasn't] or what ever but it messed up a perfectly good friendship.

One of my colleagues [who is well worth a poke] had read the same thing and was being his usual ambiguous self. More often than not, I play along with his game but on this occasion let fly with my beliefs on being queer, the gist of which is this....

I'm queer, I've always been queer and, although I've not always known what to call it, I've always known that I was whatever I am.

I fancy women. Not many, it has to be admitted, but there are a few who do it for me. On those rare occasions when I've done the deed, and few and far between they have been, I've felt some sort of guilt / treachery. To who or what, I'm not sure. Myself, probably. This is because I've always known and said that I'm queer.

I honestly do not believe that there is such a thing as completely heterosexual.

[Here is a bit of cod psychology] Everybody subconsciously looks at everybody who crosses their field of vision. They do this for two reasons. 1. with a view to combat - conflict [how would you defend yourself if they attacked / how would you attack and they defend and what would the outcome be. 2. with a view to breeding. Are they a worthwhile / worthy partner [shag].

Therefore staight blokes clock other blokes. Because they don't have the big homo bit wired into their psyche, they don't engage in the second part of the operation unless the bloke they clock fits the criteria of the tiny little bit of queerness that they do have. Thats why when the miniscule hetro bit in my brain sees the thing in women that attracts me, I look a little closer.

So remember, the next time you are tipping the six pints and the tequila shots into your prospective shag, you were probably "in there" anyway, without the drink and could have spent your money on sex enhancing drugs instead and if it's a friend your trying it with, scrub his name from your Christmas card list before you get the lube on your fingers.

Surfing

I know I've covered the surfing thing before so, sorry to drag it up again. It was prompted by watching some shite on the TV about Newquay and the fools who visit the place.
Newquay isn't a bad place really. I had the dubious pleasure of being posted to RAF St Mawgan for a brief spell before going to Northern Ireland, so this would have been about 1988.
The whole town was filled with scruffy individuals slopping around half in, half out of wet suits and all toting a surf board.
Newquay has, for one of its beaches, the "world famous" Fistral Beach. Allegedly the best surfing beach in the UK and one of the best in the world.
Well, as you can see from the pic above, it's pretty tame stuff. The fact that while I was there I never saw one of these surf-dudes anywhere near the water and, in the pic, the water is somewhat devoid of the twats is a testament to the fact that surfing and its proponents are frauds.

Pre-party

Things I don't understand.....

My beloved rolled home the other night [pissed] and clutching the latest copy of QX, a queer mag dealing predominantly with the club scene.

It's quite a while since I last saw QX and it's definitely gone downhill. It seems to be that most of the clubs nights are "pre-party" this, or "after-party" the other.

Now, it's not that often that we go clubbing anymore, pressures of work, mortgage payments, random drug testing at work etc, etc.

The last occasion was just before Christmas, for our birthdays, was the last time we ventured out. We went to Fire, in south London. What a shit-hole. The music was poo, the atmosphere was non-existent and the venue was the worst I've ever been in. Three huge square rooms, nothing else, not even the ubiquitous flashing lights. On their flyer, it was described as being the pre-party for some other "event". Orange, I think [which is basically just another club that opens after this particular one closes].

Call me old fashioned if you want, but my idea of a party is free drink, free drugs, the ability to be able to tell the DJ to "sort the music out, mate" and a lack of door staff mooching around trying to find an excuse to throw you out. Most importantly of all, you don't have to pay to go to a party.

Being a bit out of the club scene, I couldn't really say when the definition of a night on the sniff / drink changed from being a night on the piss to attending a pre / after party. Smacks of the Z list celebrity sort of thing to me.

Good Films, Thankless Tasks

At no small expense to my good self, I managed to get my copy of Spring & Port Wine transferred onto DVD. I also got a copy for my brother.

This is one of the best Brit films never released on either video or DVD.

I managed to scab my copy from Channel 4 so it's a broadcast quality copy. It also has a constant time-clock, running in the bottom left corner.

Mat was not pleased.

"It's got a time thingy on it"

"I know"

"Oh, well, in that case, I don't want it"

Fine, he can fukin wait until it's eventually released. This mat be some years off. The guy who wrote it, Bill Naughton still hold the rights for it and won't release it foe the retail market.

This is because James Mason, the lead actor, hammed the role up so much the Bill Naughton thought that he ruined it. Apparently, he wasn't keen for it to be made into a film anyway and this confirmed his belief.

Here is a link to a fans website Spring & Port Wine.

Underwear

I was reading somebody's blog this evening and he kept dropping references to his "tight butt, in my new CK's" and "my favorite CK's" etc, etc.
I don't get this fascination with Calvin Klien undies.

David, my other half, wears them. The type he wears are illustrated above [though that's not him in the pic]. He did offer to pose for the pic but I declined his offer. The reason being, the only time that CK undies ever look like those in the pic is when they are fresh out of the box. Once they've been through the wash a couple of times they look like an old dish cloth.

Now, I can already hear all the tapping of the keys of disgruntled homos saying that their CK's aren't like that.

LIARS!

CK's are such cheap old tat that they all do it.

The other thing I fail to understand is why is there a need to have one's jeans hanging around the knees just to expose the brand of underwear? If it said "Marks & Spencer" instead of CK, no fukker would dare expose the brand, so why do it with CK's?

After all,they're not exactly exclusive, Tesco sell them.

Religion, again!

I know, I know, I said that there would be no more religion but my brother sent me these so I thought I'd better post them. His antipathy to wards religion is similar to my own. I think that my own antipathy was brought about by my mother. What else could be expected when she named her kids Matthew, Mark, Luke and Christopher! I know that her memory is bad but that was a joke in very bad taste.

Judas! An open letter to lapsed homos

My dear fags,

We must mourn the passing of one of our number to the other side. The Fatalist has gone straight. Another one of our number lost forever.

I think he would have been better with a dog than a woman, here are some reasons why....

30 WAYS DOGS ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN
1] If you pretend to be blind, your dog can stay in your hotel room free of charge.
2] The later you are, the more excited dogs are to see you.
3] If a dog has babies, you can put an ad in the paper and give them away / sell them.
4] Dogs will forgive you for playing with other dogs.
5] People think fat dogs are cute.
6] A dog will let you put a studded leather collar on it without calling you a pervert.
7] Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name.
8] A dog won't hold out on you to get a new car.
9] If a dog is gorgeous, other dogs don't hate it.
10] If a dog smells another dog on you, they don't get mad ... they just find it interesting.
11] Dogs like it when you leave lots of things on the floor.
12] In the car, your dog never insists on having the heater on.
13] A dog's disposition stays the same all month.
14] It's legal to keep a dog chained up at your house.
15] A dog's parents never visit.
16] No dog ever put on a hundred pounds after reaching adulthood.
17] Dogs don't let magazine articles guide their lives.
18] Dogs agree; to get your point across, you have to raise your voice.
19] Dogs like to ride in the back of pickup trucks.
20] Dogs like to do their snooping outside, rather than in your wallet or desk.
21] Dogs are not allowed in shops.
22] Dogs seldom outlive you.
23] If a dog leaves you, it won't try to take half your stuff.
24] Dogs can't talk.
25] Dogs enjoy heavy petting in public.
26] You never have to wait for a dog; they're ready to go 24 hours a day
27] Dogs like to go hunting.
28] Another man will seldom steal your dog.
29] If you bring another dog home, your dog will happily play with both of you at the same time.
30] A dog will not wake you up at night and ask you, "If l died, would you get another dog?"
31] Dogs don't mind if you watch them piss or shit.

Sorry to have a dig Fatalist, but I've been waiting for ages to get that one in and this was the perect excuse!