World’s Tallest Building Bollocks

They’re building the worlds biggest everything in the UAE so it is no surprise the world’s tallest building is going up in Dubai. Incidentally, a mate told me the project manager is a Kiwi. Cool eh. We’re everywhere.
This will be the first building in the world that has lifts you can use in a fire. Essential if the owners ever hoped to get the fire brigade to turn out for a fire.
I don’t know how fast the lifts will be, but perhaps they could put café’s in them so you could have a couple of flat whites and read the paper on the way up or down.
For residents, being in the world’s tallest building will change the way they live.
“Honey, I’m going to be late home tonight.”
“Where are you now?”
“The basement. I’m just getting into the lift. Kiss the kids goodnight for me.”
Sadly the world’s tallest building will probably attract suicide jumpers. But they could use the height to help save lives. Jumpers have to put on a parachute and are given a cell phones at the top. On the way down the jumper gets a call from the suicide hotline and they try to talk the person out of it. If they do change their mind there will still be time to pull the ripcord and float down.
The even bigger news is I am told they are planning an even BIGGER building in Kuwait. Twice as high as the Dubai one. 1 mile up. They should put airplane toilets on the top floor so that people who are afraid of flying have a chance to join the mile high club.

Brewery bollocks and dorks in town.

Imagine a brewery going to a town and setting up bars in a couple of suburbs and supplying all the people who lived there, with so much free beer that it created alcoholics a huge rise in crime and domestic disturbances and generally destroyed those neighborhoods.
Then, just before the head of the brewery retires from his job, he flies into the town and visits a different suburb that he has been supplying tons of beer to for even longer. As a result this area has suffered from many similar booze related problems and is generally seen by the rest of the world as a bit of a mess.
But the purpose of the Brewery bosses trip to this suburb he tells anyone that will listen, is to try and help them get rid of their bars. To stop the supply of beer and help deal with the drunks.
Wouldn’t that seem a bit odd?

That’s the analogy I’ve cooked up with after seeing George Bush bleat on and on about his trip to the middle east and hope for peace in Israel on telly.

He’s coming to my town tomorrow. Last time I saw George W was in Rome in June. We were both there for one day, on the same day. He probably wont remember me. But George, if you do read this, I was the tattooed guy with the black t shit on, who gave you the finger as you raced past in your super duper bullet and bomb proof limo.
I imagine he’s packed the same set of wheels for this trip.
By the way George, the reason I flicked you the bird as you went past, wasn’t because you rode into power on the coat tails of your old man and stole the election, with the help of your brother Jed in Florida, who I assume is being groomed to keep the dynasty going.
It wasn’t because you and the dodgy old men who pull your strings, used the 911 tragedy to fulfill an agenda in Iraq that had already been planned. Or that your invasion was so poorly thought out, so badly run, by men with no military experience, who refused to listen to those with military experience, that an already dangerous situation was made thousands of times worse. Like the disbanding of the Iraqi police and army, against the advice of experts on the ground in Iraq, who predicted, quite rightly that this would simply drive those unemployed and hungry men to the insurgency.
It wasn’t because of the fact that despite all the evidence of the insurgency and civil war happening in Iraq, you continued to bullshit the American people for months, until it was so obvious that even you realized you couldn’t get away with the denial anymore.
Or the fact that because, in large part, due to your actions, America is disliked on the international stage far more now than when you came to power.
It also wasn’t because of the fact that while you have been happy to take the war to the terrorists overseas (although you haven’t caught the main ones you went after) your people at home. The ones you are supposed to care about, are worse off than ever and now facing a recession and a record deficit.
It wasn’t really any of these things on that particular hot summers day in Rome George.
All those things piss me off no end, but that day it was because of the massive security triggered by your visit. Security that is required because of how hugely unpopular you are. Security that meant there were no taxis in town.
That meant we had to walk for 2 hours to get back to our hotel and for most of that I had to carry my daughter on my shoulders.
That pissed me off George. So don’t even think about giving me a call when you’re in town.

Time off for bad behavior

Need a couple of weeks to work on my new book without the added pressure of keeping this little pot plant topped up.
Back around Jan 12th.

Toodle pip

It’s good to have someone to blame.

Got up this morning and discovered someone had spilt a bowl of cornflakes on the couch in the lounge. My daughter, who was in the room watching TV said she suspected it had been carried out by al-Qaeda. I had to admit that it did have all the tell tale signs of a how I imagine al-Qaeda would attack my couch with milk. When the missus got up she didn't share our convictions about the identity of perpetrators but by then we had already made a statement to the media so it was too late.

Pool Bars – Another reason it is hard being a parent.

It’s hard being a parent. Kids ask you questions and you are expected to know the answer. For example when we went to the Coliseum in Rome, Frankie wanted to know why it had holes in it. I couldn’t be bothered explaining that during the Middle Ages poor people had chipped holes in the stone to get at the copper that the Romans had used to lock the blocks together. So the missus told her it was made of cheese and a giant mouse had eaten some of it. She loved that answer a lot more than the ‘searching for copper’ story would have gone down and it was also fricken hilarious listening to her explain the giant mouse situation to a group of American tourists. But sometimes it’s more complicated. Like when we were at the pool bar at a hotel. I had to tell Frankie not to splash, because the drunken English guy beside us was trying to smoke. She didn’t understand that at all. We were in a pool. If you cant splash in a pool, where can you splash? She had a point and I didn’t have a good argument. All I could do by way of defense of what is one of man’s greatest inventions, was to point out that this was one bar where you didn’t have to bother leaving to go to the toilet. Mind you, I have been in a few normal bars where that happens.

Naivety. The birth of christ.

M – You took your time. Lets get up to the room I’m knackered.

J – Well, there’s a bit of a problem.

M – Problem? What do you mean problem? It’s late, and my bum is sore. This saddle you made is rubbish. What do you mean problem?

J – The Inn is full.

M – Full! Really. Well I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact there is a fricken census on and everyone has returned home to this poxy little town. ‘Book a room’ I said. ‘The place will be full’ I said. But Oh no not you. Not Mr ‘Hey it’s my hometown they’ll have a special room set aside for me’. So what are we supposed to do now? Turn round and ride home?

J – Well no. They can fit us in. They said we could stay in the manger.

M – Manger? What’s a effin manger?

J – Over there.

M – You’ve got to be joking. That! It’s a fricken stable! Do they call it a manger so they cant rent it out to suckers like you.

J – They said we could have it for free.

M – Free! Oh really! How bloody gracious of them. They are letting the PREGNANT WOMAN! STAY IN THEIR STABLE FOR FREE!!!!!! THANYOU VERY BLOODY MUCH.

J- Mary quiet. Someone will hear you.

M – Who Joseph? Who will hear me? Everyone else got here hours ago. You know why? Because they came on horses. Not stupid little Donkeys. And now they are all tucked up safely asleep in their rooms. Which they booked months IN ADVANCE! Oh shit!

J – What is it? What’s wrong Mary?

M – My waters just broke.

J – On the saddle? I was going to sell that when we got home.

M – What did you say?

J – Nothing. How about we get you into the stab… the manger, and get you comfortable.

M - What are you doing with that hay? You expect me to lie on a bed of hay like a pregnant cow?

J - This? I was going to feed the donkey. He’s come along way.

M – The donkey! You were going to feed the donkey!

J – He cost a lot of money. I have to take him back to the rental company in the condition we got him.

M – You are unbelievable. What kind of carpenter doesn’t even own his own bloody Donkey anyway. I’ll tell you what kind. A bloody useless one.
You know this kid isn’t even yours don’t you?

J – Mary, please. Calm down. You’re just tired and emotional.

M – Emotional eh. Well you would you be too if you were having the SON OF GOD!

J – Mary. Please, be quiet. People will hear you.

M – Well I don’t care. I don’t care if everyone knows that I AM HEAVY WITH THE SON OF GOD. And let me tell you something Joseph, when the messiah arrives things are going to change for me. No more riding around on rented donkeys for a start. What do you have to say to that eh?

J – Well I guess the planet could do with a new messiah. I just wish you had told me earlier.

M – Why? So you would have had time to dump me? Immaculate conception freak you out eh builder boy? Can’t handle the idea of havin your missus womb used for God’s work?

J – No. It’s just that I bet the owner of the Inn would have given us a proper room if he’d known. Now lets get you inside eh, here come those three blokes on camels. I’m, sure they’ve been following us.

Mr bollocks

So I am on this road trip this weekend. The missus and the sprog are asleep, but I want to listen to some tunes up loud. Cunningly I had prepared for the eventuality as I had packed my trusty I shuffle.
Problem was, that when I loaded it last week I was in this Lah De Dah reflective, sunny mood where I felt like listening to acoustic strummy tunes and it was filled with stuff by David Gray and James Blunt.
Do you think David Gray wants to kick James Blunt’s arse, cause he was like the easy listening pommy guitar troubadour back when Blunt was fanging around in a tank and then as if traveling overseas and killing people at the tax payers expense wasn’t enough fun for one lifetime, he drops his camo gear, picks up a guitar and suddenly Blunt is the new Grey…….…or do they just shake hands when they meet at industry functions and say stuff like, ‘I really like your lyrics man, lets find a really fucked up African country and write a duet for them. Flick some of the royalties their way, get our photo taken with some skinny kids and score ourselves a few centimeters of exposure in Time magazine.

Anyway…back on the road what I really wanted to listen to was some loud guitars and if I couldn’t have then I didn’t want nuttin, so I dumped the shuffle and decided to think up
all the ‘Mr’ products I could.
Mr Chips, Mr whippy, Mr guy that cuts your keys whose name I cant exactly remember. I think it was Minute. And then I thought of Mr Mister Mister, the band, who as far as I know only ever had one hit. I could google them to find out more but I’m not really interested to be honest. In fact the Mr game lasted about as long as it took you to read about it. Wonder where they are now? Probably gearing up to play New Years Eve at the Niagra Falls Holiday Inn. ‘Take, these golden wings, and learn to fly, something, something,… up so high……again….. blah blah blah.

That was it really….That was what I thought I would write about. Obvioulsy looking back now I am not sure why I bothered, but when I started out I didn’t know it was going to end up like this did I? Bit like ‘You’re Beautiful’. I’m sure James didn’t mean that song to be such an annoying f#&*ing waste of 3 minutes and 33 seconds. So count yourself lucky by my reckoning you’ve only spent about 1 minute and 27 seconds reading this. Maybe a bit longer for all you slow readers who never had the gumption to invest in the speed reading course for only 39.95. Actually it will be a bit longer than 1 minutes 27 seconds because when I timed it I hadn’t put in the bit about the speed-reading course. I only thought of that now and I can’t be arsed going back and reading this again. I have proper stuff to write. Tonight it is a short story about a gold fish that works in a sex bar in Thailand but really wants to be a pilot. True story. Well it isn’t obviously. But it is one of the sort stories I am putting in me book. So that's something to look forward to. That and the New Years Eve Buffet at the Niagra Falls Holiday Inn. Brilliant apparently.

Santa Bollocks.

So here we go again. That time of the year where all the stranger danger we instill into our kids is undone. The time of year where we take our kids to the mall and tell them to go sit on the lap of the strange old man and get a sweetie from him. This is the guy, we tell our kids, who will creep into their bedroom on Christmas eve and give them a present. But only if they have been good, because this old man has been watching them all year. He knows what they have been up to. Seen an old man hanging around outside your kid’s school this year? Don’t call the cops, it’s probably just Santa in disguise. We even leave out milk and cookies so Santa can take a break form prowling around our kids bedrooms. My dad used to leave out a beer, he thought Santa would like that more. Imagine if Santa had a beer at every house he stopped at. Hell, even if he only had one at every 20th house, he’s still be completely trashed after a couple of hours on the job. This year I am leaving out some carrot sticks and a low fat yoghurt. Lets face it, the guy is a heart attack waiting to happen and I don’t want him keeling over in daughters bedroom. 12 Reindeer? To pull that lump of lard and a sack ful of presents? Bet Doner and Blitzen and Rudolf and the gang wouldn’t mind if the old boy lost a few kg’s.

Thank you for bombing countries faraway from you America.

The US Space Program gave us velcro and the cordless drill. US long range bombing gave us mid air refueling, and it is this technology that allows Santa to get around the world in 24 hours. Think about it. If he had to keep stopping for reindeer food and more presents he’s never get it done. So each year when he takes of in his sleigh, another, super sized sleigh crewed by specially trained elves, also takes off loaded with reindeer food, presents and red bulls for Santa. Here’s another little bit of Christmas trivia you might not know about. Ever wondered where all the reindeer wee and poo goes? In the old days they used to just take a dump on whatever roof they were on at the time. In the 50’s, America paid Santa to make his reindeer unload over Russia just for a laugh. But after some bad PR Santa’s people had to review their operation and came up with a solution that the special forces use. Santa and his Reindeer now poo in bags and take the waste with them. There’s a conversation starter when you sit down for Christmas dinner this year.

Posh Spice havin a Ball

Costume Malfunction? Maybe. But on closer inspection it does look a lot like Posh has a small right testicle tucked under her arm. Hers you think? Or is it a precaution she takes when she is away from David. He strayed once before. Maybe if she keeps hold of his nuts. Even just one of them, he will think twice about any offside play. Nervous times for David. I don’t think he would be worried about her losing his nut, she has an army of minders and it probably gets better care than the little sprogs it helped create. But how does he feel about her taking it out and showing it off to the world? And wouldn’t those hot stage lights make the poor little thing dry up? Maybe it is her way of saying to the world ‘I am making a sack load of money on this tour.’
I noticed it appears to be shaved. Maybe that’s so it doesn’t cause Victoria any chaffing. But that begs the question why she put it under her arm like that and didn’t wear it in a bag round her neck? Maybe that would have clashed with her costume. I bet Dave cant wait till the end of the Spice Girls tour when he can be reacquainted with his family and his right nut.

Gravy Bollocks

Why do they call it the Gravy Boat? Is it because it looks a bit like a boat? Tenuous link. Maybe after grandma has had a few sherries it starts looking like a boat.
I have heard of the Gravy Train. Why not call the gravy container the gravy train and then people would get it. Maybe they could make a little gravy server in the shape of a train.
But while we have the Gravy Boat, why doesn’t a gravy maker do ‘Gravy Boat in a bottle’ and it is a bottle of gravy and when you have poured out all the gravy there is a boat in there. You wash it out and have your very own ‘Gravy Boat in a bottle’ on the bookshelf to impress you friends. You could collect a set of them and you wouldn’t know what boat you had till your bottle of gravy was running low.