I went to the local pub with Mr. Goater this evening to watch the England game. What can I say about the match? We did the job I suppose, well done to John Terry and Aaron Lennon. That is all.
For an early evening kick off the pub was very busy, we couldn’t get into the back room with the bigger and more superior screen. Whenever anybody walked in they were greeted to chants of “Sit down shut up!” from the fans lucky enough to have tables.
We had to resort to sitting out in the front. We had the last laugh though, the projector out the back broke so all the backroom fans had to sit on the floor or stand while we all sat down with our beer on tables.
While he is currently in London, Mr. Hobart and I were able to give our expert analysis on the performance throughout the match via SMS. Here are a few excerpts from our summary…
DanH
This is maddening!
Myself
I blame your Chelsea players. I could have scored that goal Lampard missed.
DanH
I have to agree with you 🙁
Myself
(after Terry’s off the goal line clearance)
I take it back, I blame all the Chelsea players but Terry.
DanH
Lampard you massive c**t
(note: Dan, who is very crude and did not use *’s)
Myself
Crouch you lanky streak of piss. Proof tallies cannot play football
See, as a pair, we’re obviously the best football pundits around. Andy Gray and Martin Tyler eat your heart out!
Finally, a mix for the game this evening. Judge Jules, your job is safe.
I had the rather unpleasant and frustrating experience of telephoning the council the other day. Finding the correct telephone number and indeed a real life person to talk to is extremely difficult and at times you feel like bashing your head against a brick wall.
So, why did I wish to call them? Was it to ask them to dispose of the dead and decaying squirrel, which has been run over and is lying with its intestines spread out just a short walk from my house – no. Was it to try and blag some free money in the form of benefits – no. Was it to complain about the bin men who are refusing to take away my rubbish simply because I called them dirty, smelly wankers – no.
I called the council to give THEM money, which will then be blown on The Bath Spa Project (amongst other things). It seems that however much they stress the importance of paying your council tax, when it comes down to it, unless your situation is 100% simple they will not accept your money.
Apparently they believe that the landlord should pay for the council tax even though I have told them more times than I care to remember that the house residents are paying.
It’s like pulling teeth. So, “why pay it?” I hear you ask? I would love to turn around to the council and tell them to stick their tax if they don’t want my money, but life doesn’t work like that.
If I ignored the situation, like they seem to be doing, I would end up with a letter in November billing me for £1,000,000 for all the overdue payments (and yes council tax in Bath really is £1,000,000 for 6 months… well almost)
In the end I used my charm and they agreed that, yes they would like me to give them my money. A cheque will be in the post soon, raping my bank account of yet more tax. Why don’t I just move to Rochdale where it’s about 20p a month in tax? Oh yeah – it’s a shit place.
One final thing for tonight, I was taking the bin bag out of the bin (apparently the bin men don’t do this for you anymore) and somebody pointed out that there were loads and loads of maggots coming out of the bag, it was a fucking infestation!
Who can take your trash out?
Stomp it down for you?
Shake the plastic bag and do the twisty thingy too?
THE GARBAGE MAN!!
Oh the Garbage Man can
(only in The Simpsons)
Of course, this hot weather must have been the perfect breeding ground for flies, just like a bluebottle brothel! Heaven knows what dead animal carcass the eggs were laid in, I haven’t thrown away any meat lately, I don’t think anybody else in the house has either. Saying that, the chap on the first floor hasn’t been seen in a while. Maybe somebody killed him and put his remains in a refuse sack! Maybe I have just watched Shallow Grave one too many times.
Good night
Latest fishy news – they have come out of hiding from under the coral. My guess is that they have learnt that there is not going to be a massive fish-eating monster at the surface. It also proves that the theory of fish only having a two second memory is bollocks. The only living creatures with a memory that poor are pot smoking teenagers.
They currently are darting around the tank like tiny, fish shaped Brazilian football players. It must be great fun to be a fish, no work or money worries, if you have a fight with your mate all is forgotten about the next day, not having a care in the world. Still, swimming around in your own shit and eating dried up fish guts can’t be all fun and games.
And finally, Mr. White… how long were you predicting my fish would live for? You didn’t give them long did you? Well, I’ve had them over two days now and there is currently NO sign of “fin flop”.
For the first time in its 14 month history, Sparkster.net has its first World Exclusive. Yes, I have a story that The Sun, Mirror, Guardian and Times would love to get. It is the real truth on Wayne Rooney’s broken metatarsal…
Over the past six weeks the whole country has been on tenterhooks, praying that Wayne Rooney recovers from his broken foot in time for The World Cup.
Wayne Rooney picked up his injury on 29th April in a game against Chelsea. At that late point in the season, Manchester United had nothing to play for. They were out of The FA Cup, out of The Champions League and had already secured a place in the European competition for the following season. News of this injury was far more of a blow for England than the football club.
Sparkster.net can exclusively reveal, not only that Wayne’s foot is fully healed but that it was never broken in the first place!
In the week prior to the match on 29th April 2006, FA Officials, Sven-Goran Eriksson and Wayne Rooney met with Sir Alex Ferguson at a hotel just outside of Manchester. The FA issued a proposal to Sir Alex, a proposal that would turn out to be the biggest conspiracy in the whole history of football.
There has long been a feud between Alex Ferguson and The FA regarding Manchester United’s players being capped for England mid-season. The FA’s proposal promises Sir Alex that as of 1st August 2006 until 31st May 2007, the new England manager Steve McClaren will always consult Manchester United before capping key players for international friendlies (note: this excludes Euro 2008 qualifiers).
In exchange for this favour, Ferguson will play along with a major conspiracy constructed by The FA. This conspiracy starts with Wayne Rooney falling down after an everyday tackle during the Chelsea match. After the fall, Rooney will fake an injury and be stretchered off by unsuspecting medical staff. The media will then be told the tragic news that Rooney will miss The World Cup due to a broken bone in his foot.
As the weeks go on and The World Cup moves closer, the media will report to the world that Rooney is making a remarkable recovery, however still may not be match fit even if picked for England. Little do the media know that Rooney is actually training at a secret location with Manchester United and England team mates to keep himself fully fit.
The World Cup has now arrived and Rooney has been included in the squad. He will start all games on the bench and will only be unleashed when England need him most. In the past, the opposition have always been extremely wary of Rooney and man marked him with two of their players. An injured and unfit Rooney will of course receive less attention from the opponents.
This will allow Rooney to come on the field, be left alone by defenders, perform his magic, score a hat trick and help England to win The 2006 World Cup.
To add more evidence to my claims, last month the media reported that Manchester United club doctor Mike Stone was sacked. The reasons for Stone’s dismissal have never been made public. Stone was indeed sacked by Manchester United, the reason being that while he was never informed of the conspiracy, he did not believe Rooney was injured and demanded to undertake his own x-rays. This would have course exposed the whole plot, so Mr. Stone had to go.
And that’s it basically. Expect to read this story in all the papers in a few days time but remember, Sparkster.net published it first!
I must add for legal reasons that my story is probably untrue and that I have no evidence to back up my claims. But then again, how many tabloid paper exclusives are exactly the same? :o)
My new fishes are annoying! They’re just sitting in the grit on the bottom of the tank underneath the fake coral.
I didn’t spend £1.50 on each fish for them just to be sitting around on their arses on all day (or wherever fishes do sit). I want them to actually do something. OK, I’m not expecting them to jump through hoops or write Shakespeare, but at least do something. If this inactivity continues I may be taking their toys away so they have nowhere to hide.
They’re hiding but believe me, they are there
I’ve even tried getting them going by feeding them; they didn’t really seem that bothered. One fish did eat a flake but then spat it out again! “Fuck you fish! I prepared that meal for you and what do you do in return? Regurgitate it in front of me.”
Maybe they’re not hungry, one is moving around a little now with a long shit hanging out of its arse. To be honest if I was pushing out a turd the length my body I wouldn’t want to be disturbed either.
I’ll let you all know if the fishes start to do anything of interest like learn the Brandenburg Concerto or give up on life altogether and start floating on the surface.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
