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About this blog

Teetotalling happens to other people.

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Have you all given up?

It seems in my absence that, despite 7 months with no entries, I still seem to reign supreme in Arnies blogland. According to all the numbers, anyway, which can hardly be denied. And anyway what happened to GR and Hardcore Mitsuko (is this a sensitive topic...?) as I coudln't even see their blog up here. I know it's not all that important, but is the large amount of traffic on my blog (Versive) taken directly from Arnies - I would hope not.   Yet still I seem to be on top - by a huge margin, despite the fact that Snowie, just for example, has better things to write about and the rest of you must have SOME kind of interest in the other rest of you. I do note however that the other blog rated and reviewed by people belongs to a girl, which confirms most of my previous suspicions about you lot But still.   Why hasn't someone taken the title? Why hath no successor succeeded me?   C'mon you lot; put some bloody effort in I'm especially looking at you, Dave

evilhippy

evilhippy

 

Sample post 2: Parties, People, Tattoos and Glory.

From http://versive.blog.co.uk here is the second of the samples I'm giving to you lovely lot - swear words allowed on my blog may be hashed out, or may just be fruitcaged - I hope those bits don't get totally cut out thiough because some of them are rather relevant. We shall see.   -   I should be on a boat touring the local islands right now, but I valium'ed and slept in. Plus after a 7-hour tattoo session yesterday with only 2 five minute breaks, I felt I was owed some leave-me-the-pissing-*fruitcage*-alone-people-please time just at the moment.   So as promised, the sordid details of the last few days now lay bare for all to yawn at Greg has done a runner - well, I had to let him go. There are only so many times you can hear someone say `aluminum` and `sidewalk` and `6 cheeseburgers with that please` before you go a little crazy. Actually for the record, he spent a good lot of time in Blighty and may as well be English. He is cynical and relentlessly sarcastic and has a sense of humour and doesn't much like the French. I'll give him my validation for honorary citizenship if he ever wants one.   He buggered off on a lovely comfy sleeper bus (they actually are, I disengaged the sarcasm capacitors for a second there) and left me to go back to the hotel and have a good night's sleep myself - ha, ha, how very funny. More illness, still, so now I'm taking my own brand of antibiotics and maxing it out with repeats of the doctor's prescriptions for a full extra 6 days now - I just don't think they quite understood in that hospital just HOW much of my life I spent sitting in small rooms reading short articles. Before he left there was a little education for me in the different states of the union, this time of the southern californians; my, do they talk slowly. Painfully slowly; I found myself wanting to stnd up and slap them yelling them to finish their *fruitcage* sentences. They were two middle-aged beer drinkers who could hold a 3 hour conversation without actually saying anything either - they were the two most boring people I have ever heard, and I'm glad Greg was the one who engaged with them because I would have taken one of the interminably and pointlessly discussed beer bottles from the table in front of them and poked it into each of their eyes in turn with a mantra of something like "New (poke) sentence (poke) new (poke) words (poke) New (poke) etc.   Not sleeping has, however, added to my creativity - by the way apart from when I take valium or sleeping tablets then I actually can't sleep now; without valium it would be almost 9 straight days of no sleep now, as it is, I think I have slept 3 times, plus once during the day after too many hours of constant wakefulness just overtook me. It happened before I even got the valium I'll have you know, too, it's not a side effect of relying on them, but a case of staying awake with aching gut grumbles, and being in a constant state of readiness to launch myself into the smallest room, which has, in effect, made me an insomniac now as well, which is nice :roll: During all this I learned all of Greg's nightly habits, as I were his goddamn wife or something; now he doesn't dribble or noticeably snore, much, but he does make arresting spasmic movements, and has a good line in irreverant and intelligable dialogue, I think he speaks something from one of about every 4 dreams, which meant I got to almost have a bit of a conversation on my sleepless marathons. Best of all though are the screems, which he emits on average about 4 times a week from what I've seen. They are loud and warbly and really quite terrifying when you're hazily staring at your laptop from across the room trying to work out whether you can withstand trawling endlessly through random wikipedia articles on minor historical figures or the structure of molecular compounds again, or just give up any pretence of righteous learnedness and go look at some more porn. It can be quite scary - but then he is quite a scary man! He can also get up and go to the bathroom without opening his eyes - I checked: dead closed. Not many people can sleep-###### and not make any mistakes!   -   Anyway now he's gone and I'm still not sleeping (apart from last night) I have taken to molesting my bedroom - abusing it, defacing it, OPTIMISING it. There is no suitable table in here for working (the table top and seat of the two chairs in here are basically at the same height, like a coffee table without the benefits of any room service coffee cups nor, given the size of the table, enough space to actually balance one on there) and the rest the of furniture at my disposal consists of one large lumpy bed and one small less lumpy bed, a TV and a fridge. So. I had a poke around at about 2am the other night, and finding that a shelf in the cupboard is about the right height, this now serves as my desk with a chair pulled up to it. The chairs make ungodly noises, a bit like baby giraffes being horribly tortured (not that I have tried, you understand) whenever dragged across the floor tiled, so I had to lay my elephant pattern beach towel under it so I could rapidly escape to the toilet as and when necessary without disturbing the neighbours.   In another effort not to disturb them I spent a full hour the other night turning the fluorescent lights on, then guiltily off again, then on because I couldn't see the keyboard and couldn't actually work on this thing, then off again thinking that the glare would be irritating off other poor, random guests along the hall, when I finally realised, with a hint of inevitable resignation and something of a sigh, that the windows are all tinted black to avoid this exact problem. So it goes...   Sitting upright for 6 hours makes your back hurt though, so a drawer taken from the same cupboard unit upside down on the bed serves as my second desk, and the bed itself - the double bed - is now vertical, propped against a wall to give me more space in the room to trail computer cables and so that I have less opportunity to bash into things in my sleep-deprived or alcohol-sponsored stumblings. This means that when the cleaning lady comes in she is Not Right. The first time she just stared for a bit, mumbled something and took a look around and just left. Now when she enters I see a tear in the corner of her eye form, and if I wasn't here she would have to put everything back in the proper place and probably start fully sobbing, which isn't very nice so if I go out I at least but the beds back and return the drawers to the right places.   I still coat every surface from floor to ceiling with sand, sweat and mud, though. It's just part of my duty as a guest.   -   The next day I lay down and closed my eyes for an hour (this is NOT sleep, not unless you actually go off with the fairies, but I thought I had better make an effort of some kind) and then did nothing very much during the day except watch films. I watched Zulu again and drew a tattoo while doing so. This is important, because I had that design I drew then and then tattooed onto the back of my right leg just 48 hours later.   It is strange that I have omitted the film `Zulu` from, for example, my facebook profile, unitl now. No other film actually has had a bigger impact on my life. It is responsible for both my first tattoo, and my most recent. It is what gives me a large part of my sense of pride at the British empire, and it says all the things about bravery, courage and supreme acheivement that I would like to be able to say about myself. It is responsible in part for my dislike of the Christian clergy (Dad, you'll never be included in the same lowly league I imagine of the rest of them, don't worry) and it makes me feel an affinity with both the commonest of the comman man and the most snobbish of the aristocracy all at once, as well as the `average` person - something that made me so successful at my old job that people used to admire it in me and remark upon how I could deal with everyone superbly (they said it, not me), whether they be the modern equivalent of a cockney chimneysweep or Lord Arseforth the Third from Secondsgrange Firstly, all practically in the same breath. And I never knew all this until I saw it again the other day. Amazing   There it is - go rent a copy of Zulu, sit down for an hour and a half with no expectations; do remember it was all done in the 1960s though, so the filming is old and the pacing slower than new movies, and the dialogue is actually intelligent and realistic - but pay attention to every word, and watch 4 characters in particular character: the preacher Reverend Witt, Lieutenant.John Chard the technical commanding officer but who is really just an engineer and not a fighting man, Private Henry "Hookey" Hook the workshy skiver in the sickward, and Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead played by Michael Caine. The film also gave me my lifelong admiration, respect and constant high expectations of Maurice Mickelwhite, as Mr. Caine is called on his birth certificate, and I am rarely disappointed so long may he still live and work.   See? It gets me all misty-eyed just thinking about Zulu, and for the bravery of the zulus as much as all the white actors who, after all, were representing the invading Empire. The comments from the preacher at the very beginning (the only sensible things the old fool says in the whole movie) about zulu men and women being betrothed to each other also gave me a deeper respect for foreign cultures, even at the young age when I first saw the film, I think I must have been about 9 or 10 then sadly missed seeing it again for another good 9 or 10 years.   -   Anyway that other day came and went, the tattoo took up all my time until I went for dinner, met up in the `Why Not?` bar across the street from my hotel with whole load of people including a really great German couple. Did I mention how famtastic the Germans are when they're travelling? I can't say enough about them. Anyway these guys were brilliant, fluent in English and they were both funny, easygoing, up for a lot of fun and just really, really coool, and I sincerely hope they get in touch after I them my email and website. We were in the why not? bar unitl gone 1am, talking with a small crowd of english, vietnamese, german and dutchy people and it was dead quiet even then, so knowing that the Sailing Club, although expensive, is always full of partying people we went there at about 1:45am, but only to find that amid the crush at the bar and the happy dancing hoards the music shut off at just 2 in the morning!   This is when my organisational glands kicked in so I grabbed my German buddies, told them to do what I was going to do: go up to every person and small group, say sorry for intruding but do you want to carrry on the party? 90% said yes, so the only place open until 4 was, funnily enough, Why Not? bar, so I managed to move an entire club full of people from one venue to the next (I spoke to maybe 20 little groups, maybe another 20 lone people) and along the way I bumped into DJ Errol Brown, a London club DJ who's semi-famous but was just here on holiday. Together we hatched a plan to sneak his drink (a bucket of vodka and redbull) out past the bouncers, and while I made it, Errol didn't, so I might go find him when he's at Fabric or SE1 or something back home in a few years and buy him a few to compensate as I was left outside with his tanker of disco fuel while he was lost somewhere distracting the staff. Oh well.   Anyway we made it back to the Why Not? bar and partied away, then the two Germans and I left at 4:15 or so, went to the beach, and waited for sunrise. Great company, they had a little bit of nice weed, and when the sun came up at 6 we all stripped off to our skivies and had a swim in the South China Sea at Sunrise. *fruitcage* awesome.   -   The next day (Saturday) I went to the tattoo shop down the road from me and had a great talk for like 3 hours with the owner, a Puerto Rican guy who's lived in Vietnam for 2 years now selling equipment on eBay.co.uk, funnily enough, and running his place. His computer artist and I manipulated the edges of some line to flow down my calf and resized my work so it was about 11" long, taking up about all of the back of my calf, and the owner and I had a great chat about everything - his boats, his kids, tattoo shops in India and in England and he was an all-round great fella. I might pop back in there this afternoon and say `hi`.   Knowing it would be the last time I could swin for a while, I then had to make a plan for another sunrise swim the day of my tattoo, yesterday, so instead of doing anything sensible or boring I made sure I stayed awake all day and planned to go and sit in a 24-hour coffee place drawing through the night so I could again go for a swim as the sun came up.   That day I watched movies until the evening, then went and ordered a pizza and, having 20 minutes to kill (they do a superb italian pizza there and I like to take it away to devour in front of a movie) I sauntered a little way along the road and stepped into the towns only Irish bar. Well, that was my evening taken care of - I was doodling on a piece of paper stolen from a waitress (I always do this when I'm in the drawing mood) and a Candadian girl next to me passed comment on it, and struck up a conversation. It was pretty obvious she would be trying to pick me up if I played my cards right, it being her last full night in town and all - now there is a `thing` with many women while travelling who do this, because they know they are going away the next day. Call me a misogynist but I have seen it more times then you, I'll bet, and I can prove it and you probably can't, so ) but a) I drunk a couple of beers and didn't care for the idea (she was very nice, but who can think of chatting upp women when you can't read the label on your beer properly?!!) and I have realised and decided recently that I don't want any part of anything romantic. At all.   The thing is, I simply don't NEED it like most people do, and the complications are potentially painful and often quite pointless in the first place so I made friends with her friends as soon as I could as well, including a big Irishman call Richard (he was big, too, Like the size of Jonah Lomu sorta big) and a bar owner in Nha Trang who was actually English, by the name of Andy. Andy was a great fella - we ended up going out to 007's nightclub somewhere in the downtown area, and bugger me, but do they know how to run a nightclub here.   It was a proper, full-on club where you can only just about make yourself heard to order drinks - and the bar is at the OTHER end of the room from the speakers and DJ booth - and the laser shows were impressively modern and very cool to look at. The DJ took my request and I had a Daft Punk track mixed into every song for half an hour; and I lost at least 4 pounds dancing, as I do, like an epileptic boxer to all the mixes. The DJs were good, too - I am going back to 007's before I leave this town!   So that was that - I stayed up after everyone else I guess, apart from any couples that were in there and went back to the room to watch a film called Conspiracy - it's got Val Kilmer in the starring role and bugger me, the boy finally learned to act. It's actually a fairly good movie, if totally predictable. By the time that was finished I notced with a jolt of panic that it was light outside, so I threw my swimming shorts on and wrapped the elephant towel/rug/sarong thing around me without a shirt, walked to the beach, had myself a nice swim at just after sunrise and came back, showered and went to the tattoo shop.   *fruitcage* ME IT *fruitcage* HURTS BY *fruitcage* NORRIS DID IT *fruitcage* KILL but it was okay, I had my laptop so I read comics and listened to music lying face-down on the tattooist's table, but even that wasn't enough distraction as I almost had to stop at several points, so the Puerto Rican owner, bless him and his family forever, went and rolled a joint and we snuck to the bac and had it and the last hour of it was just fine. Just, just great   I had dosed up on Ibuprofen (about 2600milligrams) during the tatoo to take the edge off but it just didn't work at all, then I tried a bunch of Diazepam - Valium - and about 70milligrams of that which is enough to make a horse go to sleep, let alone a human forget about some pain, but in the end only the weed worked.   And that's the only thing it's good for. I ain't a stoner any more, not by a long shot!   And then today I slept in and missed my boat ride and I don't much mind, it only cost £4. See Vietnam is cheap, if you know where to go, and at £4 for a whole day sightseeing the islands - with lunch included - looks like I found yet another great place here in the fine town of Nha Trang.

evilhippy

evilhippy

 

Sample posting 1: Why woman are better dancers

From http://versive.blog.co.uk here is the first of two posts that I'm transplanting here just to keep in touch with all you guys   -   Yes I know, lots of posts today. I'm in the hotel all day (thank Norris for free WiFi, I can tell you) giving the new tattoo a chance to heal - I have photos of it coming up in a bit - those of you who know me and my tattoos; the ones I already have; will be surprised and I hope impressed and pleased with this new piece - and also to catch up on internet time, photo doohickies and the inevitable randomised meander through wikipedia that happens whenever you happen upon that site. Honestly, only minimal porn has been involved. Seriously :>   Anyway I love to dance; those of you who have seen me dance know that I'm a pretty good dancer: for a guy. Now, women are better dancers than men, this is because they have a feel for their bodies that doesn't come easily, or at all, to a bloke. Good male dancers get that way because of their greater skill in spatial awareness - I am a case in point. Women have a body designed for flowing movements and coordinated joint and limb maneuvres that are far more appealing and impressive than a man's - and the mental sensuality too, if you will, to use that type of body and move in a way that most guys can only dream of achieving, if they ever even bother to try and be good dancers at all.   I dance the old club style way (big-fish-little-fish-Card-Board-Box etc.) but y'know, I'm not bad on the dancefloor, people actually tell me this a fair bit, so I don't just have to fall back on my ego to tell you guys   Carly, if you're reading, I hope you can back me up on this (remember the `jesus-christ-pose in Enzos all those years ago? Well I got better since then, but still, I was the best straight male dancer in the club that night )   Some of you from the early days - I'm looking at you, Jina, and those from the time of the HMV Wall (private reference folks, don't worry about it) know that I was as *beep* as any average fella when it came to thrusting my butt across the lino back in the old days; but now, well, I actually pride myself on the fact that a) people get out of my way when I start dancing in most clubs (although this could be through fear of injury) and enough people tell me I'm a good dancer every week for me to assume that this is so.   So.   I want to show you this - you may have seen it already and, yes, it's another bloody video from Youtube, but honestly: THIS is how I feel when I get dancing, and I wish I was as good as her. I watch this and try to remember it - it's all in the feelings shown not the movements, by the way - so I can have more fun and be better at what I'm doing when dancing the next time I go out. Anyway, some Irish girl (dancing to a fantastic track for a good mince by Daft Punk), and boy, she is GOOD.   Enjoy:     Can't embed videos here, so it's just a link, sorry...

evilhippy

evilhippy

 

Lots of new photos, travel news and emo cr*p!

I must say I am impressed, heartened even, by flicking back here on the off-chance and seeing the lovely vote scores and page views have gone up even in my lengthy absence; you really are too kind.   Now, to the real business now I've kissed your arses a bit, if you want to see how things are going on, and read more of my twitterings, then again I am gonna plug my new blog at http://versive.blog.co.uk   This is nothing personal against the venerable Arnies, of course, I just need a site that can be accessed by all without signing up or signing in, and that isn't tied to our favourite sport. It's much the same stuff as always without the manufacturer and item reviews and opinions, and instead of skirmish mishaps I am having, at the moment, Asian mishaps on the Indian subcontinent.   I have been here now for almost 10 weeks and have been to 6 or 7 towns, although admittedly most of them were beaches and I simply got wasted and had the odd silly scrape with the local cops, but it has been good clean fun (well, mostly) all round and, now I ahve the pictures all up and online you can see some of the rather splendid stuff that's passed before my heavily glazed eyes.   So go on! Subscribe, there is a box on the left that requires you to only toil your way through the typing of a valid email address and then two valiant mouse clicks shall secured you the prize, viz. an email every time I stick another entry up there.   So go on, join us -   join us... join us... join us...   ..or I kill one hostage every hour

evilhippy

evilhippy

 

Thought you'd heard the last of me, eh?

Good afternoon!!! Bloody hell, I'd kinda forgotten you guys existed. Nothing personal, I've just changed focus so much this year that I've not been airsofting more than 10 times, I don't think, and that included the utter debacle that was the ground zero weekender.   I got smashed beyond belief, caused a lot of trouble, and became, how shall we say, disenchanted with the whole affair. Nothing against the game just some of the players, and it was time to leave in general so I have, I did, and it was good. Also getting really fat this year hasn't exactly helped my attitude towards running around lots   So I am actually off travelling, yes, I'm finally going - this monday in fact. Flying into Mumbai (formerly Bombay) in Western India at 10am, and I hope not to be back on British soil for at least 2 years, hopefully 3 or more. And on that note...   ..I am abandoning this blog, mostly, because I need something accesible to all and also, quite frankly, because I want a travel blog that doesn't concern airsoft because I want to introduce the site/page to people all over the world and cannot be bothered to explain what airsosft is to every f***ing one of them!   So here it is: Versive, a travel blog for all occasions. My occasions. Come join with us...   Please subscribe using the box on the left, I look forward to hearing your comments if you have any, and I wish you all the very best for the future in whatever you do; thanks for reading.   Take it easy!   - Tim -

evilhippy

evilhippy

 

Man of leisure.

I wish I had a leisurely woman to accompany me too, but hey. Such is life.   So I've quit my job and I'm now a truly leisurely so-and-so, and all my friends are working all the hours God fails to send due to his lack of tangibility yet still the hours are being filled with blood, sweat and tears by my peers and y'know, it's bloody refreshing not to give a rat's *albartroth* about it all anymore. And I had an unusually punishing routine before (55 hours a week as standard, plus whatever extra was needed (totally unpaid, mind) to finish the job/argument.   A strong work ethic is a fine thing, but it pales next to being able to have several beers in the pub garden at 1pm on a weekday   That said, I am feeling itchy for not getting my hands dirty this last week, and if it wasn't for the fact that I'm selling £300+ worth of airsoft gear each seven-day-cycle I might feel like I was some kind of layabout or something! Even so it's easy money and it's not really being `made` after all, because I'm simply selling assets and any fool can do that.   Still, I made more money than my retired Father this week and that counts for enough Smug Points (under my new system, individual Smug Points are of equal or greater value to £50 notes ) to make things worthwhile in any case hehehehe   -   The Barbecue. By *fruitcage* it deserves the capital letter this year, it's going to be truly monstrous and to be honest I'm slightly worried it'll get out of hand; so far we have double the pig mass of last year at the very least (one damn huge hog instead of 2 cochinillos, double the real ale (280 pints, all on tap), 100+ pints of cider which is new on the official side of things, official brewery sponsorship after the roaring success of last year, proper flyer invites, full outdoor lighting (suspended from trees and an array of ropes), definitely one 5-piece live band and possibly a well-known 10-piece ska band too, several DJs, on-site camping (the site is my parents house, thank *fruitcage* they have a big garden!!), a wide array of other entertainments, a swimming pool of iced beer that should hopefully be more swimming-pool like rather than last year's paddling pool, and I'm thinking of trying for a bit of sponsorship to help me fund the bloody thing...   It's a mission and a half and it's only just started, but by hell I'm gonna make it the best it can possibly be   Arnie's members young and old are welcome, naturally It's a 24-hour hog-roast in the sunny South of England, expected turnout about 120 people.   If anyone wants any more details please get in touch!

Guest

Guest

 

The best Value For Money gun in the world?

Seeing as I wrote it I may as well share - here is my first editorial for the new website! Wooo!!-   All things considered, there is a reason why Tokyo Marui is the best-known airsoft manufacturer in the world, and it isn’t just their size or pedigree or long-term presence in the marketplace: it is because their guns simply work. As soon as you buy them. And you can make them better very easily.   They have long held the unofficial title of `most reliable manufacturer` among airsofters and although there are a few (a very few indeed) pieces that make it out of the factory in non-functional condition, the overwhelming majority are reliable, sturdy, long-lasting guns and their AEGs make up the majority of actively skirmished weapons out there in the big wide world.   The system inside them all is fundamentally the same; certainly there are gearbokes in varieties from V1 through to V7 now, but the principal is damn similar, and therefore the gun that compresses this tried and trusted formula down into the most cost effective, most lightweight and burden-free, most easily manoeuvrable package is, to my mind, the one that has to win the title of `best gun`.   What am best gun? Marui’s Heckler & Koch MP5K.   Now, the range and accuracy are the only realistically detrimental points to this gun’s profile, there is nothing that can be done about this if the MP5K is to keep its honorary title of `Best Gun` for reasons that’ll be clear below, but then equally there is nothing any of its detractors can cite apart from these two issues when trying to deny its greatness, whereas I can quite cheerfully say;     The MP5K is the lightest and most easy-to-carry-all-day AEG on the market. The MP5K is the most manoeuvrable and `pointable` AEG around. The MP5K is as reliable as any Marui AEG –more reliable than any other brand by default! The MP5K has more accessories available for it than all but one series of AEGs (guess which series ) The MP5K is both an excellent primary and also an excellent secondary skirmish weapon. The MP5K is the cheapest Marui AEG available. The MP5K has a folding stock option with a longer inner barrel and threaded outer barrel – the PDW – for only £15 extra.     And I could go on. The thing is, if you have ever skirmished with an MP5K, you will know that the range and accuracy that other players with long assault rifles have over you, is totally counteracted by the fact that you can run faster, move more stealthily, flank and surround people more quickly and easily, and even strap your AEG to your leg and run full-pelt away from their fire and out of range if you have to.   And just to own one, to plink with or whatever you want to use it in your own home for, nothing else out there represents such superb value for money.   You need do nothing to your Marui MP5K to make it work and then all you need is a hi-cap magazine or two and a stick battery and you’re set to skirmish for years to come, and it has only cost you about £150.00!!   Ah yes, the stick battery. What most people will see as a hindrance; an inadequacy of sustained firepower; I see as an advantage simply because there’s no other way to get a battery into a gun of this size and the size of this gun gives it advantage over any battery complaint. Plus, oh doubting Thomas that thou mayst be, I have just one word for you – Intellect   Intellect’s 1400mah Nimh batteries will last for a full day’s skirmishing at the hands of even the most trigger-happy player, and often have the staying power for 2 full skirmishes when used by normal people Their battery cells have an amazing ability to retain power, and for those of you that remember the `old days` when the only batteries available were 500mah mini and stick types, and 2000mah large types (all NiCads of course) then the fact that these Intellect sticks last about as long – if not even longer - than those original large batteries should warm your heart in the glowing fires of progress.   And of course, progress is something that needs addressing here because of the Chinese clone market, a market that seems to threaten the high and mighty Japanese manufacturers – but even though the parts in these clone guns are usually direct copies of the Japanese, their assembly seems to leave a lot to be desired which makes them really not a gun you can pick up and play with. And that’s the real beauty of the TM MP5K.   -   For the beginner, it represents the best gun you can get for the money, and that’s the main concern when you begin the long and winding journey of airsoft expenditure in this lifetime There is no other gun you can pick up for this price that will instantly be usable – to great effect – at any gaming site in the whole of the UK.   For the plinker and airsoft collector, there is nothing else that will give you reliable fully-automatic fun, and that will look and feel like a real `assault SMG` or however you want to classify it. What else will give you 20,000+ rounds of full-auto mayhem for under £100 without a single repair or any internal maintenance? Nothing else, I challenge anyone to find a gun that can.   For the experienced skirmisher it allows you to use a proper SMG as a backup weapon, with a fully-auto 240 round capacity (with the double shrt magazine hicap from Marui) in the same ultra-compact frame as a large pistol. It also allows you to have the ultimate CQB gun – a pistol-sized machinegun, with the capacity, reliability and strength to stand up to the rigours of interior combat and also give you that ammo capacity that other CQBers only wish they could fit into a gun so small and easy to manipulate.   And, of course, they are so light and manoeuvrable that you can use two at the same time with supreme ease Is there nothing this gun can’t do???   Well, yes of course there are; unfortunately, it can’t shoot at 130-foot ranges like an M14 or the G3 SG1, and it can’t take magazines larger than 240rnds in capacity, and it can’t cook you breakfast or write your dissertation for you… but hey. It’s the practicality and the money that counts here, and for that, there simply is no other that can compare.  

Guest

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In case anyone cares

Just thought some folks might actually give a damn, but yes, I am busy. Oh-so-very-freakin' busy.   Getting a new job, buying my first car, leaving this old place I've worked in for 7 years, moving into a new house, and starting an editing job in my spare time on a whole new airsoft website - life is not exactly slow for me these days.   Oh, and I'm also still selling everything I own.   And I'm going to travel around the world in the Summer and that needs a spot of planning too, don'tcherknow   -   So really, I haven't had much of a chance to blog over here, so there   I shall return, but in all honesty I know not when. So, peace out for now yon faithful readers, I look forward to ranting at you sometime in the future....    

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The Barman Everywhere is from Australia.

And things move on… there was an interesting fellow at the ceilidh on Saturday who was apparently a famous folk recording artist; not a wisp of beard in sight mind you, and he wasn’t even wearing sandals; nope, this chap was pretty cool in more ways than one; wearing his shorts and t-shirt to have a crafty roll-up outside the hall’s entrance in bloody February; and very down-to-Earth. He also just so happens to run a property maintenance company for letting agents around the Bristol area – which means, between himself and his list of tradesmen (plumbers, general builders, electricians, gas engineers etc.) he can do everything needed in terms of managing a house to rent out, and can take care of all that needs servicing, repairing, maintaining and improving. Handy man to know if one were to be in the position of, just perhaps, buying a house to-let, and then buggering off around the world   So that was nice to have made contact, and another thing that was nice was the beer on Saturday night (Hop-Back brewery’s finest ales: Crop Circle and GFB [Great Fuc**ng Beer, probably] which goes to show an awful lot of traditional English/Irish music’s modern character, right there ) which once again was perfectly judged to last everyone’s glasses all night, it was just the right amount, right to the end of both barrels, by the time the bar closed. Although looking back on my phone at the calls we made that night, these two events may not have been quite so coincidental as I don’t think our taxi was actually booked until 1:30am   What else I learned that night was from the pub down the road from this village hall full of crazed morris dancers and drunken, swaying hippies, and I got chatting to the barstaff and, predictably enough, there was an Aussie behind the bar. The barman everywhere is from Australia, as T. Pratchett has already noted (although it could have been B. Bryson as well, come to think of it.) He gave me a few useful pointers about working over there, namely, work in New Zealand instead and don’t bother trying to get a good job in Aus. I guess that’s why so many barmen the world over have fled their native Antipodes and decided to take random jobs schlepping ale in foreign climes, although it could also be to do with the fact that Australia, by its own demure and unassuming nature, actively tries to kill every living thing within its borders; whether it be by hosting the ten most deadly snakes in the world (yes, all 10 in the top ten list of Most Poisonous Snakes in the World are Australian natives. Crikey!!) or by having the deadliest spider (the funnelweb) or being home to a thousand other lethally poisonous wee beasties. And then there’s the sharks of course, what with having a dozen varieties capable of killing a grown adult mooching about the place in waters deep and shallow, and of course there is also the most venomous animal on the planet; the box jellyfish, know to Australians as a Bluebottle, or `Bluey`, or “holyfu**ingfu**there’safu**ingbluebottlerightthererunawwaaaaayyy!!!!” – or so I am guessing.   These things don’t actually scare Aussies though by all accounts because you can see them coming, but there is one creature that does worry them and that’s the saltwater Crocodile. Fair enough really, because if they don’t want you to see them then you wont as they can hide beneath water, or in long grasses, or even just somewhere dark, and unless you’re standing in the middle of an airstrip with a fully-loaded SPAS 12 and armour plating up to your ears then, basically, a Croc could potentially kill you just about anywhere in Australia. And you most likely wouldn’t see it coming.   And then there are bush fires, that spread far enough to, for example, burn about half a million hectares of national forest like one did in 1987. They can move, eating up new vegetation in jaws of flame, at up to 50 miles an hour with the wind: there ain’t no goddamned way on Earth anyone can outrun that!! Or the droughts and relentless solar torrent the country subjects you to if you wander into the interior – the outback – without shade, food, water, and 500 camels to eat up as you go along. No, outside of the cities Australia is a harsh and unforgiving land. I can’t wait to get out there   -   Another thought that struck me on that night, as I nursed something like my 9th beer and hazily watched the stream of dancers whirling past me, was that I’m going to have one of the most elite gun collections possible when I’ve sold all mine, as I plan to be skirmishing with a Western Arms Kimber TLE II as my sidearm, and hopefully retaining the KSC HK33 as my only remaining AEG. Sure there are more expensive, desirable, some might even say practical rifles to choose but almost no-one else will actually have one, and that makes it pretty damn `elite` as far as I’m concerned I intended to kind of not sell the Kimber originally but totally forgot to price it out of reasonability like I have the Beretta Scoremaster, which I am also reluctant to sell. Chances are I now will, however, and I’ll be keeping the kimber, getting 2 more spare mags, and then using some sort of proper actual vest or chest rig in which to keep stuff (finally).   The HK33 though, only shoots at about 240fps although I believe my local friendly gunsmith has now installed a stronger spring: god knows how the thing will stand up to it but I guess I’ll just have to find out. Thinking of a shotgun as my one and only other gun and intermediate backup, and, of course, the most elitistest (new word ) choice would be the full metal & wood sawn-off that I just-so-happen to have 10 shells for I’ll be needing some specialist gear for that too, namely a drop-leg or over-the-shoulder `scabbard` kind of sheath for it, just depending on whether I want the extra weight on my leg or my back – and, of course, whether I can actually draw a damn shotgun from across my shoulder in a hurry while still keeping it secure when running!!   Lots of new gear is gonna be needed to get me to where I want to be I think, or, maybe I’ll leave it all until I’ve braved the venomous and naturally aggressive lands of Down Under; I might even come back from there and decide to skirmish with a colt .25 springer and a rubber knife, see how much the country hardens me up  

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Organic Shame!

I really do have an addiction problem: I can't stop thinking about the kung po beef fom my local Chinese takeaway *slobbers* Really, its actually getting to be a problem, if I eat kung po constantly for the rest of my life it'll still be too rarely; I could chew my way through a fu**ing cow covered in kung po sauce and cashew nuts, I swear to God...     This is a day of food talk. And I've had a minor revelation about the state of the world; consumerism and the illusion of `consumer choice`; all because of food. I shall now share: Consumer choice, in many contexts (such as within any one supermarket for one) is fabricated to a large extent to keep us worried and insecure about our lifestyles, and this makes us receptive to any quick-fix recipe or `organic` alternative that, hardly coincidentally, costs twice as much the product that's probably been serving us well for years.   Its all about baked beans, you see.   I'm sure we've all bought baked beans from a supermarket before and this extremely simple & basic purchase illustrates my point right here; you go into the canned food aisle vaguely trying to find something you can live with yourself for eating besides baked beans, but resign yourself to the fate that awaits us all and pass over tinned runner beans and carrots and potatoes cursing yourself in some tiny way for having to prepare all your vegetables yourself (instead of having maids, chefs and butlers to do, obviously ) and you know you're only going to actually pick up a simple can of baked beans of five; you are not expecting an assault on the common sense gland - there are fifteen f**king types of beans on offer on these shelves and hell, you know somewhere deep in your cynical soul that they're all the same - I'd wager a fair sum of money that half the cans you see on the shelves with different labels, from different brand names, and with different levels of alleged healthiness are made in the same bloody factory. Organic baked beans? Don't make me laugh. You've paid through the nose so that your food can taste the bloody same but your deluded sense of self-satisfaction wont allow you to realise there's nothing different in taste between organic fruit, veg and general produce and the genetically modified stuff! Its been tested and the bloody farmers who grow it cant even tell the difference, no; all that's happened is this organic food has become less efficient to produce and more costly for everyone involved - and the infuriating thing is that its all because the media is capable of whipping up such a frenzy that the simple story a few years ago about how a lot of our food was genetically modified without our widespread realisation of the fact has created an entire new industry: the organic food industry - and it is simply an industry that wastes time.   Of course, it keeps the money in circulation and whenever that happens the government gets to collect about 22% of our money when we earn it, and another 17.5% when we spend it, so they are hardly going to do anything but publicly support it are they??!!   I discovered this in a flash as I discerningly reached for can of Waitrose's finest `organic` baked beans and spied the lonely regular beans on the shelf below. Then I kicked myself for falling for this most ancient of tricks: all they do is slam the opposition to strengthen their own position; It was just like Cartman running for class president all over again ....   -   Organic food is morally superior. Well, is it? Organic food is still treated with pesticides and fungicides, its just that those chemicals are derived directly from naturally occurring plant and animal sources, and this simple explanation makes everything think everything is okay because anything `natural` in it's origin can't be bad for us now can it; never mind the fact that certain natural vegetable extracts are at least as deadly as anything we've cooked up in a lab; never mind the fact that animal poisons are more virulent than anything man-made at all, no - if its `organic` and `natural` it is better, obviously!!! Of course none of the poisons of nature are used to treat crops but the point is than by blanketing all things `synthetic` and `man-made` as unnatural and bad, and making all things organic and natural good, we are treading a dangerous path where the decisions about what would be best to use to, for example, keep a certain insect away from a certain crop, cure an illness, or disinfect an outbreak of a disease, could be made because of the label that substance has been given or the category into which we have allowed it to slip, and not its actual benefits.   And that's just the morals (but morals are a whole different story anyway ) of doing the right thing in extreme and unforeseen circumstances; what about those we can see all too clearly?   My main gripe with `organic` food is that the resources we use in countries like the UK and the USA to make expensive, time-consuming and needlessly land-intensive organic foods could be better spent making far larger quantities of `genetically modified` food keeping the cost of our living down and allowing us to maybe help other countries who have no such luxuries! To that end also there is a huge amount of food that is wasted by the regular old-fashioned `GM` food industry because of simply ridiculous things like `how round is my tomato` and other bulls**t like that, so that also is the cause of a helluva lot of needless waste; waste all in the name of our own vanity, and of obscene and damaging standards that we have allowed to be set for us by the same sonsab*tches who make 15 varieties of baked beans and scare us into buying the most expensive one.   One more rant: Genetic modification; tweaking the genes of a variety of potato so that the potatoes grow larger, with less infection, and perhaps even more quickly - this is what genetic modification does for you and this is what has been labelled equally as evil by the media who wish us to buy more papers with more scares stories and then buy more potatoes with more natural chemicals used on them - but gentic modification is what farmers have been doing for centuries, except they called it Selective Breeding` and yes, it is an evil and insidious practice - selective breeding is why we have domesticated dogs who can't even act naturally because they've been bred and bred and bred until they're the biggest joke in the animal kingdom But in the realm of foodstuffs we have been modifying the genetic makeup of everything we farm for thousands of years, just because people are doing it in those scary sterile labs and faceless white-coated lab technicians are handling the syringes and not a fat, red-faced, burlesque farmer with a flat tweed cap and an "oo-arr!" for every occasion do we feel threatened by this.   -   And anyway, everything we have, every single item we own, have invented or possess derives from nature, no matter how tenuously, because it all comes from the earth and the sky, all of it: scientific labs and microscopes and test tubes and scalpels and engine oil and plastic toy cars and even the synthesised chemical treatments that might kill or cure us in a hundred years time are all `organic` because we created them from nature, or at least we created the tools that created them, or created the tools that created the tools that... etc etc etc. There was nothing on this Earth 10,000 years ago that we still have today except all the stuff we have made from what was on this Earth (and mountains and stuff ) - it may not look very similar, but a washing machine and an Oak tree are still both totally organic in their origins, and we can hardly be anything other than organic ourselves and we made the washing machine, from natural substances no less, and even if it did take a few thousand years to get from a lump of iron ore to a steel axle pin that secures a vital part of a washing machine into place it is still created by organic beings from organic substances, however convoluted that route may have been.  

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Organic Shame!

I really do have an addiction problem: I can't stop thinking about the kung po beef fom my local Chinese takeaway *slobbers* Really, its actually getting to be a problem, if I eat kung po constantly for the rest of my life it'll still be too rarely; I could chew my way through a fu**ing cow covered in kung po sauce and cashew nuts, I swear to God...     This is a day of food talk. And I've had a minor revelation about the state of the world; consumerism and the illusion of `consumer choice` is screwing us over; all because of food. I shall now share: Consumer choice, in many contexts (such as within any one supermarket for one) is fabricated to a large extent to keep us worried and insecure about our lifestyles, and this makes us receptive to any quick-fix recipe or `organic` alternative that, hardly coincidentally, costs twice as much the product that's probably been serving us well for years.   Its all about baked beans, you see.   I'm sure we've all bought baked beans from a supermarket before and this extremely simple & basic purchase illustrates my point right here; you go into the canned food aisle vaguely trying to find something you can live with yourself for eating besides baked beans, but resign yourself to the fate that awaits us all and pass over tinned runner beans and carrots and potatoes cursing yourself in some tiny way for having to prepare all your vegetables yourself (instead of having maids, chefs and butlers to do, obviously ) and you know you're only going to actually pick up a simple can of baked beans of five; you are not expecting an assault on the common sense gland - there are fifteen f**king types of beans on offer on these shelves and hell, you know somewhere deep in your cynical soul that they're all the same - I'd wager a fair sum of money that half the cans you see on the shelves with different labels, from different brand names, and with different levels of alleged healthiness are made in the same bloody factory. Organic baked beans? Don't make me laugh. You've paid through the nose so that your food can taste the bloody same but your deluded sense of self-satisfaction wont allow you to realise there's nothing different in taste between organic fruit, veg and general produce and the genetically modified stuff! Its been tested and the bloody farmers who grow it cant even tell the difference, no; all that's happened is this organic food has become less efficient to produce and more costly for everyone involved - and the infuriating thing is that its all because the media is capable of whipping up such a frenzy that the simple story a few years ago about how a lot of our food was genetically modified without our widespread realisation of the fact has created an entire new industry: the organic food industry - and it is simply an industry that wastes time.   Of course, it keeps the money in circulation and whenever that happens the government gets to collect about 22% of our money when we earn it, and another 17.5% when we spend it, so they are hardly going to do anything but publicly support it are they??!!   I discovered this in a flash as I discerningly reached for can of Waitrose's finest `organic` baked beans and spied the lonely regular beans on the shelf below. Then I kicked myself for falling for this most ancient of tricks: all they do is slam the opposition to strengthen their own position; It was just like Cartman running for class president all over again ....   -   Organic food is morally superior. Well, is it? Organic food is still treated with pesticides and fungicides, its just that those chemicals are derived directly from naturally occurring plant and animal sources, and this simple explanation makes everything think everything is okay because anything `natural` in it's origin can't be bad for us now can it; never mind the fact that certain natural vegetable extracts are at least as deadly as anything we've cooked up in a lab; never mind the fact that animal poisons are more virulent than anything man-made at all, no - if its `organic` and `natural` it is better, obviously!!! Of course none of the poisons of nature are used to treat crops but the point is than by blanketing all things `synthetic` and `man-made` as unnatural and bad, and making all things organic and natural good, we are treading a dangerous path where the decisions about what would be best to use to, for example, keep a certain insect away from a certain crop, cure an illness, or disinfect an outbreak of a disease, could be made because of the label that substance has been given or the category into which we have allowed it to slip, and not its actual benefits.   And that's just the morals (but morals are a whole different story anyway ) of doing the right thing in extreme and unforeseen circumstances; what about those we can see all too clearly?   My main gripe with `organic` food is that the resources we use in countries like the UK and the USA to make expensive, time-consuming and needlessly land-intensive organic foods could be better spent making far larger quantities of `genetically modified` food keeping the cost of our living down and allowing us to maybe help other countries who have no such luxuries! To that end also there is a huge amount of food that is wasted by the regular old-fashioned `GM` food industry because of simply ridiculous things like `how round is my tomato` and other bulls**t like that, so that also is the cause of a helluva lot of needless waste; waste all in the name of our own vanity, and of obscene and damaging standards that we have allowed to be set for us by the same sonsab*tches who make 15 varieties of baked beans and scare us into buying the most expensive one.   One more rant: Genetic modification; tweaking the genes of a variety of potato so that the potatoes grow larger, with less infection, and perhaps even more quickly - this is what genetic modification does for you and this is what has been labelled equally as evil by the media who wish us to buy more papers with more scares stories and then buy more potatoes with more natural chemicals used on them - but gentic modification is what farmers have been doing for centuries, except they called it Selective Breeding` and yes, it is an evil and insidious practice - selective breeding is why we have domesticated dogs who can't even act naturally because they've been bred and bred and bred until they're the biggest joke in the animal kingdom But in the realm of foodstuffs we have been modifying the genetic makeup of everything we farm for thousands of years, just because people are doing it in those scary sterile labs and faceless white-coated lab technicians are handling the syringes and not a fat, red-faced, burlesque farmer with a flat tweed cap and an "oo-arr!" for every occasion do we feel threatened by this.   -   And anyway, everything we have, every single item we own, have invented or possess derives from nature, no matter how tenuously, because it all comes from the earth and the sky, all of it: scientific labs and microscopes and test tubes and scalpels and engine oil and plastic toy cars and even the synthesised chemical treatments that might kill or cure us in a hundred years time are all `organic` because we created them from nature, or at least we created the tools that created them, or created the tools that created the tools that... etc etc etc. There was nothing on this Earth 10,000 years ago that we still have today except all the stuff we have made from what was on this Earth (and mountains and stuff ) - it may not look very similar, but a washing machine and an Oak tree are still both totally organic in their origins, and we can hardly be anything other than organic ourselves and we made the washing machine, from natural substances no less, and even if it did take a few thousand years to get from a lump of iron ore to a steel axle pin that secures a vital part of a washing machine into place it is still created by organic beings from organic substances, however convoluted that route may have been.  

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One week on...

...and I've barely recovered had the messiest night in years at one of the best clubs in the world as far as I'm concerned, only marred by the sonofab*tch who stole my wallet at about 6am, but hey. What can you do?   Apparently, hammering roller shutters with feets elbows and fists, is, while on a perfectly valid list of possibles, not one the police are keen to endorse. I didn't get arrested but I was told to stop - it was a damn good thing I had enough sense left in me to not go off the handle at them...I really was not a happy bunny at that point and I've got the bruises to prove it   But yeah, awesome night, and despite me feeling really sh** this whole week (hardly surprising considering all the rubbish I put into my body on that night ) I'm feeling pretty damned good right now, got a mad weird folk-dancing festival to go to, a caidleigh** (pronounced: kaylee/kaeleigh in the real world) on Saturday, a skirmish on Sunday, only a few more weeks of working in my current job, and the sales of guns - and therefor my plans to travel - are all eagerly anticipated and where it applies are going very well. Stuff = good   I have just a few brief things to mention here, mainly so I remember them, and the main one is that I just met with my family; parents and Brother; to talk at great length about our parent's will and the financial ramifications which are, while shockingly complex, also shockingly simple, cunning, and interesting. The chat then transcended all kinds of barriers we didn't even realise we had and there we were, talking about all kinds of metaphysical stuff like our personal mental images of how time progresses and the like, all the way through to what it is like to raise children (many sly jokes were made by all concerned, namely about us pissing in our parent's faces and generally being inconsiderate babies ) to what my Bro is going to call his first child, now due in just 12 weeks.   An extremely enjoyable and very rewarding evening, (especially) despite the subject matter!!   The other thing I would like to remember now is that although I miss the hell out of Sarah still (her who is in India) I'm noticing it get more bearable now. Seeing as it has effectively ruled my life - directly or indirectly - for a month and a half now this is a real step in the right direction. Combined with my realisation that I'm actually going to be giving up drink totally in the near future and will have to deal with the real world in a blaze of sobriety for quite some time, this is a bit of A Moment, right here.   We'll see how things go, so for now that is all!   **Not even spelled right, I'll check with my folky friends tomorrow

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It your Birthday, alleluia, 'coz its ya Birthday..

"Week off to go holiday, go holiday in sunshine sunshine, sunnyshine, wanna week orff go 'oliday and wannit naowww!!!" said I to my superiors in the main office, which led to my immediate removal from company property - probably on compassionate grounds - and, by a roundabout way, my requested holiday. Well it was sort-of like that in my head, anyway.   Taking a week off work to go nowhere was not what I intended but after discovering the total travesty that is `last minute` holidays (they still need booking a week in advance - hardly last-minute - and they cost as much as any other package deal anyway it seems) I've had to make the best of a bad job, and going around seeing old faces and friends I hadn't seen in a long time has been a good way to fill the time. I think I've triple-booked myself for Saturday night now, but hey its either a techno-hardcore night in the SE1 club underneath London Bridge, or a couple of local bands in another place more local to me, or some house party somewhere near Winchester.   *fruitcage* it, actually I might just stay in and pass out early just to spite them all   But the lack of holiday sunshine is going to irritate me somewhat, I can tell. I really could do with a break with good old-fashioned Vitamin D at the top of the agenda, and despite the fact I can't stand the idea of going to another country to lie on a bloody beach for a week, that really is precisely what I need. Dr. 'hippy has spoken; your prescription is: Portugal!! Ha, lets make sure we plan ahead and book it early enough at www.lastminute.com of course   Selling stuff is going very well, an awful lot of people have been truly fantastic - and I will get around to thanking them properly when all is said and done - and a few people;possibly some of our, errm, younger members; have really made me laugh.   My favourite so far has been the frankly astonishing haggling skills of one chap (who also has the best handle/username I have ever seen; I really can't spell it out but if you see it you will laugh out loud ) who sent me a message entitled "wot u got". I mean, really. I answered politely of course, and, in the next message, I was graced with some punctuation!!! The sequel: "wot u got?" landed squarely in my inbox in-between a charmingly bizarre message from RedRonin__CaptainLu (who must know more ways to extract emoticons from puntuation marks than seems wholly Christian) and another enquiry from a young chap who, in contrast to wotugot boy, was polite enough to use the odd capital letter, words like `please` and `thanks`, and didn't try to send the following messages (directly quoted) all within about 2 hours of each other -   "wot hav u got that you would sell for £50? " - I dunno kid, err, some old tyres in my garage? An Aunt I dont like much? A plot of land on the moon?? Well I did tell him about the 2 guns that fell into his price range and a couple just over it. I received in reply:   "wot u got yoou could do me a deal for £50 the mauser broomhandle i really want" ....... - even ignoring the syntax horror that is this "sentence" there seems to be something unforgiveably missing - `it` - was that the word you were seeking? `it`?? It is such a small word but that doesnt mean it deserves to be discriminated against, c'mon, let the 9th and 20th letters of the alphabet come together in glorious union and shine some light upon your literacy. Needless to say the broomhandle Mauser wasn't a gun I had mentioned to be within his price range. Striking a new blow for lunacy the lad then sends me a message entitled "£35" Oh dear. You can guess what's coming next:   "could you do one of the glocks for £35 and 25 dvd's?" Well, aside from the fact that your turn of phrase rather suggests I might engage in some kind of ballistic prostitution, no, I would not `do` one of my Glocks for £35 and "some DVDs"??? Honestly, if I wanted DVDs I would have asked, I am quite capable of being very demanding indeed, and had I wanted them I woulda bloody said. The DVDs I might receive... I shudder to think. Would they be antique Disney, or low-grade porn? Dreadful 80's films that the world would rather forget, or exercise DVDs by Z-list celebrities that, in reality, make us exercise nothing but extreme caution? I wonder (but I'd really rather not). In any case the cheapest Glock was £60 and no amount of moustachioed pornography/Danniella Westbroke in Lycra (same thing?) was going to make me take any less. It aint even halfway over by this point mind you, here are a few more choice samples from several message impatiently sent within the space of 20 minutes, the contents thereof being:   "wot guns have you got left that you could do for £35 to £50?" - he really wasn't listening the first time was he? I answered, same as before.   "do me a glock for £50 and we got a deal" - again, my son, your lack of punctuation makes baby Jesus wet the bed in agony, and coming from a dude who's one day gonna be nailed to 2 *fruitcage* big sticks and left to die this means something. I declined his offer but did offer him the price of £55, including postage (I had no delusions that this guy was going to help me out on postage costs but, like a good Hippy, I took mercy on him) for a Glock27 in superb condition. He replied:   "£50 mate is all i got cummon its just £10 of your asking" - well tell ya what kiddo, how about you swap your family's retro porn/disney DVD collection for one of my guns then pay me £50 on top then give me your Momma's address so I can go round and XXXXXXXXXXXX etc etc etc. This is not negotiating my little lad, this is just you making ill-conceived demands. If you'd started off without laying your cards on the table you might have done better, being brutally honest, but somehow I still doubt it   The last I've heard from him so far is this:   "can you do me a glock for £50 then?" which really goes to show that a little insistant mewing, an impressive lack of grammar, diction or common sense, and the total inability to process conversations does not a world-class negotiator make I could have been less cruel but hey, its my birthday today and I'll cry/be an ###### if I want to.   -   In the cold light of sobriety - Apparently this holiday thing can actually be done at the eleventh hour according to some friends who actually did it, the girls who did/do my dreads managed to book something to Tunisia one night while slightly drunk and be on the plane by 3pm the next day - guess I fail at thar intarwebs or something I still maintain that they hardly make it easy, at least.   And now, seeing as its taken me a week to write this entry, it really is my birthday today - 25 be my number and in a bid to avoid cliches I will say that I am neither old, nor young, nor any fraction of a century that one may pluck from the air it is just a number, after all. One thing that is inescapable though: I cannot in all good conscience make any excuse or plead bewilderment at how unfit I am getting and how much weight I'm putting on, in light of this mediocre milestone of life it seems pointless in the extreme to ignore it any more. However; I'm gonna try and make last night the last night that I have a normal dinner then get drunk and then order a Chinese takeaway, fit for at least 2 fat people, to eat all to myself. I mean thats 4 nights in a row I've done that and bugger me, I feel like an Anglican Kung Po meatbag with prawn crackers for ears and a tongue (and it feels so much like just that, eurgh...).   So I have to quit Chinese food too - when they say its addictive they didn't count on me to make that a literal truth! I now waddle to the bank to check my sales fund and go shopping, I feel guilt, shame Now which healthy exercise can I pretend to take up to make amends I wonder...? I really have to get things a little more under control and this week has been my week of holiday sin in lieu of it being a week in sunshine. Rats. I really wish I'd spoken to these girls earlier!   Oh well - think I've got some goodies sat in my office (those MP5K holsters for one thing) and some other assorted ###### I bought from Amazon while drunk throughout the last couple of weeks, and a nice weighty cheque sits in my wallet thanks to my indecision about what I might want from my parents, which is nice. I would like to be less money-orientated at the moment but sadly, thats all I can make myself do just now. On the plus side the round-the-world trip isn't going to pay for itself (ha!) so every penny really does count. Another reason to give up the drunken chinese food benders.

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New Moral Choices.

Materialism.   A dirty word according to most hippies and lefties, just like `capitalist` apparently means something akin to `neo-nazi` if you listen to most university students and all these self-proclaimed `Liberals` who have nothing in common with the working classes (notable in the fact that hardly any of them ever do any work!) yet are willing to champion the rights of just such a group from the comfort of their city apartments or their family's second homes. Such is the focus of my irritation today, which I will now vent:   The pseudo-hippy, pseudo-liberal, pseudo-intellectual student `elite`, that made up far too much of the demographic when I was living in and around a university, grated against my very being in a way I couldn't properly describe, although I could readily identify the symptoms: they (typical students) say how awful poverty and famine is in 3rd world countries but eat from McDonalds and consume Nestle's products by the wheelbarrowfull; then they shun Nestle and McDonalds and tell everyone else to do the same but from the other side of their mouth eat from BurgerKing, and use Proctor & Gamble's washing detergent (all the while denouncing animal testing and vivisection from the rooftops); they then might even become Vegetarian, or even Vegan, and shun Proctor and Gamble, all fast food outlets known to mankind and pretty much every pharmaceutical company and product in the world, BUT, when they go on holiday they might well go to Africa on a tourist-tastic trip from Thomas Cook; which funds whatever mildly corrupt government of whatever mildly corrupt country they visit; but the thing that really hacks me off is that they happily go to their GP beforehand and cheerfully accept numerous vaccinations and inoculations that, and I guarantee this 101 bloody percent, were absolutely tested on poor innocent lickle bunny wabbits in vivisection labs all across the country.   You can't do it to save the lives of African kids, but please, by all means feel free to do it so I can safely visit their hometown to ponce around like Lord Muck, all the while looking the bloody *picture* of health, while whole native families lie dying in a tent in some godforsaken Red Cross camp. What??   There are so many things that are done in the name of Morality by those who just haven't thought things through: ever known a vegetarian who wears leather or eats fish? Yup, about a hundred of them here, too.   A member of Amnesty International who wouldn't allow a mass-murdering terrorist be kept in sensory deprivation (i.e. the politically just-about-acceptable form of torture) in order to extract information that could save thousands of people be killed and tortured (in far more horrible ways) themselves? Amnesty International really irritate me in fact and not because of a principal I have (I really dont have those pesky things) but because it genuinely is a fantastic idea in principle, but those principles have been extended and generically applied in situations where a better decision could have been made by not having to believe in something like a principal.   Ever spoken to a university student who could talk about how bad racist people are, but also has views about immigration like those of the BNP? All dressed up in `they come here illegally and were all going downhill because of it` but basically they are just threatened by the black man, or the slightyl tanned man, or whatever when the simple truth is tat people want a better life and who the hell are we to argue? We all want better lives and we've never been forced to live in anywhere near as dreadful conditons that most asylum seeker/illegal immigrants/migrant workers/whateveryouwannacallthem have!   -   But this is all just so much politics, and as such totally fails to get to the heart of the issue. Speaking of which I have a digression (what, really?? Never!!! ) - Politics is a word that very likely derives from the same place as the word `polite` - likely either a derivation and reference to large conurbations & centres of commerce i.e; towns/cities/population centres; due to the part of it shared by words like `cosmopolitan` and `metropolis` which have intrinsically connected definitions, or it is to do with the modern meaning i.e: manners, diplomacy, tact, and ultimately not saying what is on your mind in an attempt not to offend the other guy, who may or may not (its up to him) wield huge amounts of power against you and your cronies.   Imagine, if you will, a diplomatic liason between ambassadors of competing global powers where the powers involved are huge and the figureheads doing business are indeed capable of wielding them as mentioned before, and, most importantly, could do so out of sheer bloodymindedness if you tell them the actual TRUTH of your impressions while meeting with him, vis; That he might be an overbearing buffoon with the sense and sensibilities of a dead earthworm, that he might be wearing a truly abominable ensemble of clothing that is only surpassed in horridness by his appalling manners, and in turn only exceeded in egregiousness by his truly dreadful wife. I mean it wouldn't be polite to do that, would it? Even if it were true   Such is the nature of politics, and this is why I distrust anyone who speaks like a politician and avoids detailing the truth (or even making a passing reference, in most cases), especially when most of them do it for the sake of their own public approval rating.   Digression over For the time being.   -   See, I'm not a real hippy. I know the situation in Africa is totally bone, to put it mildly indeed, but to be honest if I were in charge of things to the point of having total control (and 2000 billion tones of rocket fuel to spare) I might just jettison all the dense population centres in the war-torn countires into space and let the poor souls thereon rest in peace. And various other dubious moral choices I could make would indeed hurt lots of people, but would be for the greater good of all the rest of us in the end. I mean, I don't even believe in the greater good the whole time, I believe in making the best choice as they turn up based on the best information available, one by one, because once you have a rigid philosophy of what you should or shouldn't do based on some morals that were prescribed, dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago, then when something comes from left-field that doesn't fit the rules you've made yourself live by you could find yourself forced into making totally the wrong choice.   And this rigid structure applies also rather well to religion, incidentally, but that's another kettle of fish for another evening   What doesn't work in some cases may work in others though and where the idea of a `moral choice` comes in to play there is often a lot of oversight of new and critical information, and things are done in the name of Moral Choice where perhaps things should be done in the name of The Right Thing: On Aggregate. The rigid idea of beliefs that force people to choose wrongly is only more annoying when you consider the shocking congruency of those dodgy studenty decisions when compared to the failings of some belief structures. For example if the Catholic church has a problem with foster homes being run by gay couples (which they do, hugely so) then they would have care kids in innefficient and counterproductive homes (and thats putting it pretty mildly) while at the same time professing to be the most caring bunch of bastards on the planet - hypocrisy all caused by a belief that gay people aren't real people, and are against the will of god. Now, this will appall even the liberal students but they will fail to see that their use and abuse of privileges afforded to them by the contradiction of these morals they think they have is just as bad, because they have made a Moral Choice based on incomplete information and a lack of intelligent thought, and when you point it out they will certainly feel bad, but will still do it anyway and just reconcile themselves with the fact that "They are at least Doing Something" and get on with their lives still believing that they have good and true morals. I mean yes its a step in the right direction but it actuallu contradicts everything they think they stand for, and when confronted with this they will still pretend to be virtuous and morally perfect!! -   The African situation (in the general negative terms of poverty, AIDS, civil war etc) is just one simple and important example of a] how and why stupid uni students with delusions of morality really p*ss me off, b] why belief structures are often a real dumb f**king idea and the fact that so many people place so much importance in them really p**ses me off, and c] how greedy poopies with no regard for anyone but themselves are willing to inflict mass misery and death on their own countrymen and women, in order to have the power to, pretty much, inflict mass misery and death upon their countrymen and women. Which can hardly fail to ###### anyone off!!   But I'm not gonna pretend to actually do anything about it.   You see, we could all do so much about the state of the world but we, like the mass-murdering dictators of this world, choose to service our own ends and, while we don't do much that's bad in itself, we do allow atrocities to take place all over the world every second of the day. Its just that we blatantly (subconsciously at least, hence a lot of the undirected angst and guilt in the world) forget about it when it is convenient i.e. almost all of the time; and when we do remember we again "forget" to remember that we are sitting on our arses in our nice Westernised first-world countries not saying anything publicly about beheadings in Syria, not screaming barely-coherent rage against the genocidal governments of Central Africa, not marching on the embassies of the countries where this horror is taking place, not quitting our jobs and going on peace missions to the harsh places of the world to minister to the sick and dying – we all choose not to do that but we know its is going on, and if the roles were reversed and we knew all about England with its easy lifestyles, massively rewarding government (arts councils, public libraries, schools for every child, benefits system, and even, at worst, even just a semblance of a working national health service) and especially with its almost-non-existent gangs of state-sanctioned murdering rapists, then we'd be pretty jealous and ###### off at us, too.   And people wonder why there is an immigration problem!! As if it wasn't bad enough that there are atrocities out there to be running from, the simple economic splendour of a country like the UK is tempting enough when the richest person you've ever met in your life may have owned a couple of cars, once. You see what I mean? I'm not even gonna touch the immigration issue in depth here today but it's another good indicator of how we choose to be selectively moral and that we choose to say one thing and then do a dozen other deeds that contradict what we just said, or what we most egotistically hoped that we really meant deep down inside.   But I am aware of my own hypocrisy and I ain't got no bones about it: I choose to dislike the state of large parts of the world but I simply don't choose hard enough to go do and something about it. I can never forget the sadness and suffering that people face every hour of every day, but I allow myself to be selfish enough to know it is OK for me to enjoy life while other people are being totally f**ked over and are raped, murdered, tortured and humiliated by the Hitlers of today. You know why I can do that? Because they're not me, simple as that. I'm just not denying to everyone else what almost everyone is denying to themselves; and I can do that because of my lack of belief structure of any kind, and my total, unquestionable lack of Faith.   Morals are mostly enforced by the Gods, gods that do not in fact exist by the way, but these fictional beards in the sky still speak to us from thousands of years ago and threaten to spank us in the afterlife if we do not obey their laws/do the right thing/fill their purses/tell other people how to kiss their arses. This may seem bizarre to you and I, but, y'know its weird, but there are about a couple of billion Christians, Muslims, etc etc etc? Crazy people, mad, dribbling types o' folk.… But these gods of theirs, they gave us morals to live by so its all okay, for them to dominate people's existence, obviously.   You think? Actually no, morals were given to us by our peers, by the people we live with, they come from the prospective mothers and fathers of our children, and by the relatives of all these people because, simply put, morals are nothing but approval mechanisms.   We approve of good morals in others because morals, by their very nature, mean that the person exhibiting them is treating other people well, and who wouldn't want to be around someone like that? After all you might get a free lunch!!   That's about as complex as it gets; oh don't get me wrong there are whole books you can write on the subject but that's it, right there, morals are approval systems, and although millions of years of evolution have made us inherently more and more likely to approve of people being nice to other people besides ourselves, all that `benevolence` is ultimately self-serving because of either genetic links (be nice to our kids/parents: our parents care for us - self-serving, and our kids are our future – we can `live forever` through our descendents – self-serving) or is likely to lead to an improved overall situation for the group so increased comfort for us, which is totally, unquestionably and, dare I say it, imorally self-serving   So `morals` are just selfishness dressed up in politics, which neatly brings my two points together to highlight the simple conclusive truth behind this deal: I can choose to do anything I like to do at the time, and I can go out and kill people tonight if I want to: but the genetics of a million years - since man was an ape and an ape was the best bloody thing going - are telling me that morals exist and should be obeyed (for most of the time), and that other people are as important as myself (well, nearly as important) so everyone should be respected as I would want to be respected by them (there's those tricky damned `religious` ideas again, as if it wasn't obvious that they were stolen from the back of our minds in the first place * ). But I appear to be quite lonely in thinking this when you look around, because although we get on well enough with people day-to-day there are still murders and rape carried out in this `civilized` country of ours, and those people who do these things all made choices that seem very clearly to be selfish, and if they had any `morals` they ignored them and went straight for the truth of the matter and did whatever they wanted to do.   I wont do that, but I'm acutely aware of how the thing works and while I choose to do decent things to satisfy my own sense of well-being and to push my `moral` buttons in order to get those wonderful genetically-engineered; by mother nature, no less; chemical highs that I get from doing good things, I'm also aware that morals, like god, and heaven, and The Point Of It All, simply do not exist.   We do not have to be good in this life so that we can get pampered by angels in the next, because there is as much to make me believe that there's a `next` as there is to make me think in 9 dimensions and believe that the internet is made of candyfloss and that dogs are reincarnations of failed 70's TV soaps. Nothing is what we were and will be, forever and ever amen, and the idea of a moral guideline to make us act in a certain way because of some imagined punishment/reward once we cease to exist is simply laughable, it is accepting that fact in every day of your life that is too hard for people, but I've got used to it in recent years.   The best thing you can do however is to act `moral`, and to act like the true Christian or Muslim or Buddhist should act, because although those guys have entirely the wrong idea, the feelings you get – thanks to those genetic tricks of the past 10,000 generations of apes/cavemen/farmers/office workers – are like drug highs and trips that keep us going through the day and let us sleep well at night.   Who would have thought that religion was based on the same thing as a smack habit eh? Well, I probably would have anyway, but now, I can explain why       *All except the one about `not worshipping false idols.` What they heard from their minds was "everyone should worship me and no-one else" (selfishness again) but they felt it wouldn't quite sit with the proletariat, funnily enough, so in place of their own desires they invented a thoroughly malleable (at the time, at least) figurehead, who rather conveniently could never be seen and could never be proven to exist. Hmm, how very convenient indeed …  

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Over 5,000 Pageviews!

Now I'm not normally one to gloat ( ) but yeah, I have been eagerly waiting for that little statistic to roll over, and I must say I'm quite chuffed, especially as the blog isn't linked in my signature anymore. But this is just background detail; whats important is how things are shifting in accordance with the Brownian motion of life at the moment -   The Global Adventure! .... hasn't even been planned yet. And wont be for some weeks, maybe even a couple months because it needs to be done with supreme clarity of thought and I've literally just started another bought of the coughin' and splutterin' that comes with the delightfully common cold. No, my first priority is selling everything and raising the cash...   Immediate travel plans: This S.A.D. idea (Seasonally Affected Disorder, or somesuch moniker) is quite plausible - I bloody hate Winter in the England, probably even in the whole UK too and I've really got to get out of here and into the land of sunnyness before I go nuts and start cracking some skulls. I had a plan to go to the middle east, for some bizarre reason... Well its only bloody academic now because my holiday in Egypt is buggered; the tour was operating with only 2 customers, myself being one of them, and they needed another £200 to get the damn thing running at all, making a 6-day trip cost just over £1000. *fruitcage*. That. f/Game. Soldiers, etc.   That was my emergency release trip that I had planned for the end of next week, taking a short tour through Egypt, Jordan & Israel visiting the ancient rock city of Petra and....aww screw it, I aint going now so to hell with even thinking about it. Now, I reckon I'll spend a few days off work getting as much done on the gun sales as I can, then mebbe take a cheap flight to somewhere sunny (read: anywhere sunny, being honest) and sit on a beach for a coupla days. And thats my immediate relaxation plan; to make sure I've got plenty to relax from ....   -I've got all you smiling mother*fruitcage*ers tee hee hee - yeah, 'tis true, you're making me work for my money alright, what with keeping track of each deal as it comes in, making sure no-one gets final confirmations of sale except those who have confirmed and readied payment themselves (hectic when 2, 3, 4 or more poeple are all asking for the same item!) also trying to keep everyone informed in those situations etc. The tricky part really is clearing the cheques though, because I've got 5 or 6 waiting to clear just now and with the other payments and deliveries I'm sorting out I have to be honest and say that really, I'm just waiting for any given cheque to come back bouncy because I'm just gonna wait about a week since I received them all then get the package together.   There's quite a lot of money going into my bank at the moment and despite my incredibly efficient *ahem* filing system, some things are hectic to keep tabs on when you've got to run into the local town every day to see the state of ya bank balance.   I gott get myself into this online banking shindig.   But otherly plans of an additional nature include me perhaps, and I daren't really think this one out loud in case it escapes, but perhaps I'm going to start the running/jogging hobby thats been on the cards for about a year now. Its actually been so well adhered to `the cards` that its never made it as far as the street though so far so I'm just tinkering with the idea lest I start believing it (and it then inevitably collapsing around my ears like all Good Intentions do).   Also, my booze missions has been eased by supplements of a herbal nature - I've always replaced one with the other but at least now I'm not doing both together all the time, and have managed to stave off the urges to get totally hammered with one by simply getting mildy concussed with the other. Next meeting is a week on Tuesday, meeting a new caseworker or whatever they call themselves. I feel quite small and pathetic in having to do this but the truth is that I just have to, simple as.   What I actually need to tell you guys however, those of you who are buying or in the process of negotiating sales from me, is that I am busy. I don't mean with the actual selling guns fandango, I mean in other ways, I am busy, so I'm not answering PMs instantly, and I'm not getting back to everyone as quickly as I could because I'm still going out climbing once or twice a week which totally rules out those evenings because all I can do when I get back at about 11pm is collapse into bed, and I also seem to have loads and loads of old friends turning up and inviting me to their new hobbies or lifestyles.   A really good old buddy from way back (back in the old days, when everything was better and the trains ran on time and...) brought me down to his social scene in Chichester on the weekend before last and I met some really cool folks that I'll defo be seeing again, then last weekend another really good old friend I hadn't seen in years had a massive birthday blowout in Winchester, where I made some new friends too.... They have this prided and much-revered statue of a terribly symbolic man on a terribly symbolic horse in the town centre: Winchester is the ancient capital of England and has the nicest architecture of anywhere in the country; or at least has more of it closer together than anywhere else outside of London; and is the most expensive place to buy property and is generally viewed as the `best` place to live in the UK. So they say. So Saturday night about 11:30 saw me, my old mate Wayne and some random stranger we had aggregated into our rather large group group sat astride this bloody great horse, either side of the rider (wayne in front of me, partially crushing unmentionable bits of my anatomy) and in full view of the most expensive CCTV system in Southern England. I do hope I dont get a letter saying `This is not a circular` anytime soon ..   And this weekend I'm going Go-Karting for the first time ever with another old friend from my stupid-mashed-up-no-sleep-ever clubbing days (think of the character Tires from Spaced, and thats most of the guys I used to spend my social life with), bit of a shame my driving test is this coming Tuesday though as I'm always being told to slow down and stop being impatient as it is I'm kinda hoping this cold will have removed some of the mental cotton wool from my brain by then, with a bit of luck...   So yes, another entirely self-absorbed entry and yes, when things have calmed down a bit I reckon abstract thinking, barely-credible pontification and largely incredulous perambulation through the worlds of philosophy, world events and life theories will be back on the agenda for this blog. At the moment though most of my thoughts are with more immediate concerns, so please:   Buy More Stuff!!!   hehehe

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Winter Blues = Miserable Sod 'hippy :P

Holy freakin' sh** - things are somewhat hectic of late.   Right, this is by way of explanation to those guys who may be wondering why I haven't posted off the stuff I've sold immediately, and generally because I'm feeling just a little bit snowed-under and have an awful lot of stuff on my mind.   Also I need to vent my spleen because stuff is a little difficult at the moment so if you don't want to hear a grown man whinging then stop reading right now     Lets begin at the beginning - January 3rd.   See, I've been wanting to leave this job of mine for quite a while, but because I have not-very-many actual qualifications, per se (read: I got asked to leave college and went and got a job instead of going to university), I'm simply not gonna get another job with this kind of money for another 5-10 years, which really throws my plans into a cocked hat because I'm getting a house & mortgage with my best friend Jason. Poor, poor Jason...   So, I went for a graduate-intake scheme interview even though I'm not a grad; I managed to sweet-talk the girl who did the telephone interview into bending the rules just for little me. Swish ###### ain't I So I went to the interview and smelled corporate bulls**t from the word go - fair enough, I'd have to put up with all that brainwashing buzzword-happy bollo*** for a good few years if I want a well-paid job. Then they told me I'd have to cut my hair off completely, no dreaded ponytails are allowed in business apparently - and that, combined with my disdain for their procedure and some generalised nerves put paid to that. Leaving me stuck where I am and no way out in sight. S**t.   So then 2 days later I get together with this truly wonderful girl who I could have got together with a couple of months before, and after the all-too-brief time we had together she f***s off to India for 6 months and tells me from there that there ain't gonna be anything from me for her to come back too because its just not gonna be the same half a year later, and without actually having changed the way we feel the simple assumption that we will change has put paid to the whole idea. To say I was (and am) gutted is like saying Elton John is `a bit gay`.   The biggest sadness and disappointment in my life is being lonely. There, I said it. Men don't really have either an issue with this because they have girlfriends all the time, or can't really admit it to themselves that that is the single biggest thing, but to me it is. If I ever manage to find a girl who stays with me for more than a month or three then I have a good shot at becoming a totally new, fully enriched person, because to be honest with you here that has never happened to me, and with me at 25 years old in about 3 weeks I'm starting to feel like there's some major personality disorder that I suffer from or something because this just ain't right. What the *fruitcage* I have to do to be normal in this area I do not know but rigt now, I feel like a bit of a freak   -   So I've got this idea on my mind to leave work, thus eliminating the huge stress that its putting on me at times (running a small business with a turnover of more than £1.25m per year and getting absolutely no *fruitcage* ing appreciation for it) but bringing new stress of finding a job that actually pays well. And on -   I'm desperately trying to get the hell out of Dodge, or, at least, out of England. I've had a cold for 3 weeks (since new year really) and the weather ain't improving my temper - and I've got a huge travel plan; to see the whole damn world; in the back of my mind as well. This requires a good amount of undiluted thought to make sure it goes right and involves spending at least Five Thousand Quid, but first:   I'm selling everything I own and trying to make good deals for people that still allows me to reach my target amount with which to travel & save for my mortgage. Packing stuff is the main buggeration with this, and with all these monies coming in from everywhere; PayPal, cash into my bank, online bank transfers, cheques, postal orders and probably bloody stamps the way things are going, its getting to be a litle bit of a headache keeping track of what to send and when. But there are more important things;   I'm still an alcoholic sonofab*tch and I've started to see some people about this, at last. Its a scary thing to go to an NHS addiction centre and be sat in the foyer with grubby 30-somethings who are so obviously either on heroin or crack, or have lost their grip on sanity so long ago that they just look like it when they're sober. Hats off to the staff there though; the general impression of the enterprise that one is left with is one of benevolent genius merely tempered by suicidal desperation. Madness - but now I have a plan and a person I can contact about all this stuff, and I'm gonna go to meetings and everything as of next week. Trying to stay not-too-drunk to get everything else done has been *fruitcage* difficult for the last couple of years anyway, so now having meetings to attend and sessions to have with a care worker as well means although I'm getting something done about it, I also now have less free time than ever. Hmmm.   But, the most important thing is getting a house - and now Jason wants us to buy a house NEXT WEEK and basically just buy-to-let so we have some kind of property to our name. Wonderful idea, but the stresses of buying/arranging a mortgage and getting a property agent to manage the new property, and deal with all the legal paperwork that ensues, and having to consider seriously my plans for travel or staying put or whatever are stresses I could kinda do without. A goddamn drink would feel pretty good about now, eh?   -   Thats most of it, apart from the usual existential dread and anxiety about life, the world, people, the future and what it all means, so besides all that ###### (which I can kinda compartmentalise when I want to just relax and have fun) life is still good and things are sweet.   This cold has to leave me soon, despite the fact that I'm working outdoors labouring a lot this week because the foreman is off sick (so I'm doing most of his job as well as the company secretary's, and I'm technically just the IT guy ... ), and then everything will be a bit easier. I really wish an ex-girlfriend hadn't texted me 12 times last night to slag me off and demean me over some *beep* that really doesn't concern her, but after feeling totally abused and belittled by the b*tch, I did at least manage to turn it around and take the pi** so badly that she couldn't even respond after a while   Only thing thats actually annoying me though is I'm really hating that it seems like a chore to go climbing, and I missed last week so its full steam ahead tonight - lets see if I can fall off something really big!

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The mysteries of Men revealed! Maybe.

This is no way invalidates my previous entry by the way I still want all you buggers to buy my entire arsenal from me!!   But I found a writing site, helium - http://www.helium.com/ - and this question caught my eye:   "Why men seem to only look for physical beauty." And I then indulged myself and anyone willing to read my thoughts with everything written in blue below   Now before article I would just like to mention how deeply, deeply ironic it is that I have a pretty good grasp of why this is when what has actually happened with myself and the girl now stayin in India goes directly against the grain of these ideas, but hey, I'm not like most guys at all because I tend to (it has been a depressingly recurring theme in my life [/emosity] get waaaaay too attached to a girl as soon as I sleep with them - generally to the exclusion of all else.   But nevertheless, the meat & potatoes of why men base their choice of sexual partners and why we are generally looking for physical beauty first and foremost in women is, according to your truly, as follows:   There are 2 things to consider here, and an understanding of the most likely biological explanation for the bias towards physical attraction as the main reason for choosing sexual partners (both genders do it, but yes more obviously it is men) is needed to really get a good answer to the question: Why do men pursue attractive women more often than `ordinary` women and why do women tend not to base their judgements in this area on physical attraction as much as men?   First, the science -   The most likely reason WHY people are attracted to typically `beautiful` people is genetic, if you use the term broadly and in the context of our perception (which is far more sophisticated than is commonly acknowledged), rather than actually studying a person's DNA before choosing them as a mate. Until biolabs are installed in every single area where people on this planet are likely to talk to each other we'll just have to do this the traditional way!   We want attractive mates because the physical features that we can actually perceive instantly that make a person attractive imply strength and healthiness, characteristics that we want out children to have in order to best survive their lives. Lean, muscular bodies and faces with strong, defined bones show strength and survival ability through inferred physical fitness, although seeing as we no longer have to fight off praire dogs and other humans for our dinner this is arguably a vestigial trait from the past. The well-proportioned faces that we find attractive will belong to people who can pass on their that attractiveness if we have children with them, so we want them for our sexual partners. This is a very generic and simplified way of explaining the whole biological history of humanity, but a simple & brief look at the details can provide an understanding of this:   People have been genetically altered over hundreds of thousands of years to be more and more inclined to select their sexual partners for reasons of strength and healthiness because each time a pair of our ancestors did this, they were more likely to have strong healthy children who survived and had children of their own, who received the genetic material that made them more likely to do what their parents did and select partners for reasons of strength and health. Being inclined to select mates for physical fitness is a trait passed from parent to child and incrementally affects the entire chain of descendants that arise from that coupling. The weaker children of people who selected for other reasons stood less chance of surviving - thats evolution, baby.   Now there is a huge amount of extra detail and circumstantial modulation to this theory, (an important part worth noting is that evolution may have favoured what we find attractive for other reasons such as those features tended to belong to people free from disease, for example, and therfore we evolved a preference for those non-survival-orientated features that we still find beautiful today) but basically thats it, and the important thing is to remember that this, happening over hundreds of thousands of years, made the whole of humanity more and more likely to do this as each generation advanced and in turn made the next generation based on these selection preferences.   Thats the science bit, broadly speaking.   What the issue is for us today is the manipulation of these desires by the global media so that we are given an almost perverted idea of beauty and the need to be beautiful because it makes us willing to pay for products & services that claim to do just that. Men are more sexually open and more aesthetically driven because of their (our: I'm a guy by the way) basic subconscious biological desire for healthy, attractive children who stand a good chance of survival. Women actually gestate the children and have a great deal more time to think about other traits such as generosity, intelligence etc. so they think and analyse information about potential partners more quickly and more deeply. Again, this all comes from the thousands and thousands of years of biological `steering` towards the people that we are today.   Another thing to bear in mind as a result of the manipulation of our perceptions of beauty is that women, especially, who feel they are not attractive enough lose confidence in themselves and their attractiveness, and confidence is one major thing we would want our children to have, as it equates, very basically, to happiness and contentment with one's life.   And who wouldn't want that for their children? Exactly.   Going back to genetics for a second, there is one more good reason why men are likely to think about brief physical attraction more than women, and that is that men are inclined, genetically, to have many sexual partners. This is a result of the fact that men do not carry a baby through pregnancy so they can impregnate many women, which increases their chances of having many children and basically `living forever` through a genetic legacy. Women have to carry a baby for 9 months then, typically, feed it and care for it for another 3-6 months at the very least so their choices are naturally more well thought-out because they have to devote so much time to each child, whereas men only really have to devote an hour or so, being brutally honest.   This is not a statement of how things should be this is just genetics; my views are irrelevant anyway but suffice to say I believe in faithfullness because it is POLITE, and it would be hurtful to do otherwise. Like all men however I am inclined to find many women attractive at the same time, as women are too!   -   The last thing worth mentioning, although really this is a topic suitable for (another) ten thousand books as it is one of the most important things to people, is that society's influence, especially the media, is explicable when you look at how the world has changed in the last hundred years: people get to communicate now like never before and ideas are shared globally in days, hours and minutes, instead of decades and centuries as they were for the previous thousand years. As people got together and connected with others so quickly the ability of business' to contact so many people with offers of products and services becomes phenomenal. With this comes the analysis of what will be possible to sell to people, and the first and most powerful thing that is easily exploited are our sexual desires.   The rest, as they say, is history.   And no, I did not think of the biological reasoning here myself, the credit goes firstly to Charles Darwin who actually spent far more of his life developing his theories of Sexual Selection than he did to the theory of regular evolution - the last third of his life was spent almost exclusively in the study of this idea which goes to show what a brilliant mind he had, regardless of the truth (as if it was in any real way discernible no, anyway ) and also that the common perception and appreciation of such an important historical figure can be so amazingly off-centre.   The major credit goes secondly to Geoffrey Miller and his exceptional book The Mating Mind (available at Amazon, here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mating-Mind-Sexual...ie=UTF8&s=books ) because although it is rather heavy reading, it is still some of the most fascinating work ever commited to paper thats subsequently found itself in front of my eyes.   Credit thirdly goes to my deep level of cynicism regarding the worldwide media and humanity in general

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Complete Turnaround.

Okay I jumped the gun on the girl, major, major, major bummer. Things are totally up for debate when she gets back and unfortunately this makes me a sad hippy. *fruitcage* dreadful behaviour on my part assuming things were all sweetness and light even after a six-month break, so..... things they are a-changing, namely: I'm selling my entire collection and going off to see a bit of the world on the proceeds myself. Avoiding India completely   So how the hell do I sell over a hundred airsoft guns? Well I guess the first thing to do would be to start by listing what it is I've actually got, something I've not done for a while (since I had about 60 I think) so yeah, major upheaval in camp 'hippy although I must say it has been on my mind for some time.   I mean; a dream is a dream, right, and once you've acheived that you a] no longer have the unrealised challenge of that dream and b] you have to take account of what that dream has cost you. In my case it has cost a hell of a lot of time, money, missed social engagements and suchlike stuff and in a weird way I resent my huge armoury and would be glad to see it go.   I mean I'll keep a couple of AEGs and a pistol or two for skirmishing, but thats all anyone actually needs because, lets be frank here, anything more than that is bordering on an obsession. And I have been really quite obsessed.   So without any further ado I do hereby state that I am getting out of airsoft, mostly, and definitely getting the hell out of this goddamned frosty-*albatross* wind-ridden country as soon as I possibly can - if anyone wants to make me an offer on anything they know I've got then please do so, I will consider anything reasonable.   And until I can list properly everything I want to sell I'm just gonna have to sit on this blog entry and see if anyone wants to buy my whole collection for £9000 because thats the asking price for the whole lot (hint hint hint )   Seeing as it cost me about £16000 and is still worth at least £12000 I think thats a pretty damned good price, actually ....    

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Its all about me, you see.

Wow didn't I have a great weekend? Well did I? Well yes I did. Well, I'll just talk to myself for the next few hours shall I? Hmm yeah I an see where this is going - straight to that section of society to whom the word `sectioned` is best applied. Probably best to share, then -   I've been going climbing every week with this girl called Sarah, for a few months now; we actually went to school together but practically never spoke at that time, we bumped into each other at the start of the Summer last year at a club and got chatting, got on well, kept meeting up and then started climbing together. You can see where this is heading, right?   Well we get on really well, for months now we've had some of the most interesting and involved conversations I ever have, and to top it all off we're sharing interests and goddamn, she is pretty. I mean really pretty, and she's been an athlete since she was in school and has been doing yoga for years, and is a holistic therapist (read: masseuse or massage therapist but without any dodgy connotations, thank you so very much) and also without the drippy hippy nonsense - What more could a guy want?   She is simply amazing, and thank God, Satan, Seven-Handed-Sek or any other imaginary beard-in-the-sky who (for some reason) has a really benevolent interest in my existence, the feeling is most emphatically mutual. Funny how things turn out though, because we've had the same idea in mind for months but I was resigned to just being a lonely, grumpy ###### for the rest of eternity until I pulled my finger out:- we went climbing last Thursday, went out clubbing together last Friday and it all came out and we worked out that what we wanted was rather excellently compatible, then went ice skating and drinking (in that order ) on Saturday with loads of her mates for her Birthday, went back to my place on Sat night and ...... didn't sleep ..ah yes, the cheesy punk rock smiley, time to roll that one out again   Spent almost all day together on Sunday (not getting a great deal of rest then either ) although she left early to pack ......   ..... because she's going off to India for 6 damned months, on a yoga teacher's course. Gutted. Positively bloody disembowelled, in fact, but they do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wondering how hopelessly romantic/pathetic/cool it would be to go out there after 4 months or so to see her...? We shall see.     So I have good things and bad things going on, the better of the good things is that I've got together with this amazing girl, the better of the bad things is that she's happy and doing something she really wants to do even if it does mean she's over there for so damn long.   Of the actual bad things I can have almost no genuine account due to the smiley, rosy, irritatingly smug glow in my head thanks to all-things-Sarah, apart from the mild terror I'm feeling that she might change so much in these months as to think `we` are a bad idea, or some hectic evil such as that. I must just be paranoid however; things don't ever go quite as well as they have been for me, so I'm feeling like the world is about to smack me in the face with a metaphorical frying pan!!   -   And in the vein of some vague airsoftishness I have to say that I'm kinda p***ed off with the new toys I will soon be getting, or rather, with the fact that I have a load of awesomely cool stuff on it's way to me that is rare as hell, but it has to cost me sooooo much money when all put together. What I had was a plan to save money this year like crazy. What I actually have now is a succession of expensive orders and items on their way to me, pretty much wiping me out financially for the 4th week in a row, that I hadn't properly planned for and, while very glad to have, are all rather inconvenient when paid for all at the same time.   Although the wood furniture for an M1100 revision/Defender is extremely nice to have, many thanks to hardboiledcop. Shame I don't have either of those guns yet mind you And then there is the matter of a rare little item another fellow forumite is very kindly attempting to procure on my behalf... to reveal any further details would be telling, but suffice to say its something I had totally given up on and the prospect of finally getting my hands on one, despite the mutli-hundred££s cost, is too tempting to resist...   ... and then there is the £150 Amazon.co.uk order that I totally forgot about. Damn bastards have been telling me my card was being declined every 2 days now for over a fortnight, then all of a sudden it goes through when I least expect it and BAM!! I have 8 new DVDs including the definitive Spaced collection, but am rather the poorer for it!   And I'm sure I ordered just the one MARPAT holster from eHobbyAsia, but, upon actually looking into my drunken adventure on eBay, it turns out I also wanted an Aimpoint replica and another large battery. Apparently. ????   Shard will remember this better than I; well, here's to the night before Christmas, Dave, and another £70 gone from my account   And driving lessons aren't getting any cheaper either... oh well. I just hope this karmic offsetting means my beautiful new girlfriend feels the same way in 6 months as she did this last weekend. For that I could happily put up with poverty and inconvenience until she gets back.   C'est la vie indeed...

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Pure English Brilliance

I dunno how much of this I'll actually get away with, as these are the opinions of my good friend Christopher ; or, `CrispyFur` as he has been known to us for a few years, due to his alledged plushy fetish (ewwwww...) that we insist he has and he usually insists he has too. This says something about the guy, but not as much as this email I received from him not 10 minutes ago:   `Saw the definitions for 'British' on some online dictionary that included such doosies as:     british:   british people complain a lot and can be hypocrites. Snob. Gay accent. Yellow Teeth. Drinking Problem.     None of which I actually disagree with. Still, there were loads of entries either like this or 'english people are actually very good people.. etc. etc.' so I thought I would write my own definition to the mix.. thought you guys would find it as gut wrenchingly funny as I did writing it. Stupid damn Americans...   British:   Volatile sadistic geniuses.   Speaking as a British person, I would like to say how shocked I am that the insults directed at us here concern mainly our accents and dental hygiene.   It is true that we have a murky colonial past, which probably accounts for a lot of the ill will, but most people are forgetting a critical aspect of our so-called 'British' identity.   We are all incurably evil.   Personally, I enjoy being a drunk, erudite snob with bad teeth and a sexually ambiguous accent. It will in no way diminish the joy I'll feel as I target my death beam squarely on Paris and flick 'engage'.   I couldn't care less if my gay accent forces some Neanderthal homophobe to wrestle with his prejudices. Just because his anus was split by 'uncle Jed' as a child and he is coming to realise the counseling fee might well have been wasted due to his secret, insatiable, love of cock does not tar the majesty of my words when I say;   'Wipe them out. All of them.'   Nor do I care if the stench of my teeth churns your stomach to such a point that you're forced to dispel the hideous mix of Pop Tarts and Republican semen that you suckle on each day.   In short, gay accents and bad teeth only enhance the experience of reigning fiery annihilation down from an orbiting death ray platform, I assure you.   Yours,   A British Person`     I mean c'mon, I laughed so hard I nearly dislodged my sense of humour - that s*** is f***ing funny I could almost be forgiven for nicking someone else's work for my blog just as I'm sure George Lucas would forgive anyone so clearly obsessed with his original trilogy for assuming the best feature thereof for his own sadistic machinations. Probably.   Assuming that hamster-faced f*** can stop relieving himself all over his original masterwork for long enough to register the notion   Oh, and a brief complete-lack-of-apology to all Americans for any comments made

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Planet Earth is one big Cliche!

Hey guys: good Christmas and New Year? Yeah me neither... actually nope, its all good in truth, but I've just got a bit of a cold and I'm allowing it to get me down a bit. And I failed an interview in London last Wednesda, one that I really needed to get in order to get my mortgage sorted out, so my career plans are being rewritten again from scratch; which gives me a lot more options and suchlike so really, its all good; doors closing in one place inevitably open a few more somewhere else. Now if only I could get some kind of floor plan...   - But on with today's rant -   Has it ever struck you how there are only a limited number of people in the world? I mean the actual total number of people is obviously appreciable & quantifiable and thats kind of a `limit`, even though its somewhere around the 6 billion mark and growing every day (and the actual limit is probably around about 12 billion people, after reaching which the effects of nature will probably kill off as many people as are born each day, or at least each year: I have the sneaky feeling that there's a point of equilibrium in regards to the global population expansion and its gonna involve the combined efforts of natural disaster, war, disease and famine to really get their heads together to wipe out people on a really efficient scale seeing as we'll all be standing so close together by that point an' everything...) but I speak of personalities, in fact, rather than people. There are only about, maybe, 30-40 really different people out there, haven't you noticed? I'm hardly the first person to mention this of course -   - Scientologists (yeah, those whackjobs ) for example; now I'm pretty sure they believe that there are only like 600 or so people in the world, and that they've been split up into the billions of people that seem to walking around, inconveniently existing (as far as L. Ron Hubbard's demented legacy is concerned anyway.) in the face of all that convincing mythology. Like there's an alien overlord called Xeno who's better than God and Allah multiplied by Buddha minus Michael Jackson and Jerry Springer, or something equally ridiculous.   - A lot of good fantasy & comedy authors have observed that people from totally different places are often so strikingly similar that they probably share the same personality on the basis of some kind of rota, available to either person in shifts, or something. T. Pratchett once again springs to mind (well its bloody difficut for him not to, I've reall all 30 books (and another half-dozen not strictly in the main series) at least three times, and some of them twice that) with his variations on a theme of `Dibbler` (Cut-me-own-throat Dibbler; Disembowel-meself-honourably Dibhala-San; May-I-Fall-In-My-Own-Icehole Dibooki; Fair Go Dibbler; Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dblah; Swallow-Me-Own-Blowdart Dhlang Dhlang; etc. etc.).   - Pretty much all corporate sales training (well, most of the well-thought-out training, anyway) contains (or should contain) an appreciation of personality types (of which there are a dozen or so) and how best to expoit, err I mean negotiate, with them. These categories are generally quite broad in terms of the people what populates dem, like, but by definition are really actually very narrow, and very narrow-minded, in the most literal sense of the phrase.     Which isn't to say its not largely and broadly accurate, of course. There are cliches absolutely everywhere you look; almost all phrases used today that spring easily to mind are cliches. The phrase `spring to mind` is a cliche. The words `good morning` are a cliche and one of the most commonly abused, too. In fact, almost anything that is too easy to think, and that `springs to mind` without any thought of how to assemble each individual piece, is a cliche. And that includes how you behave as well as what you say.   -   A cliche is, by definition, something for display; something to share with other people (or possibly even yourself, if written in, say, a private diary). It is something that is intended to be publicly exhibited, most of the time, and therefor it cannot extend to the way you bruch your teeth, or the routine for when you make breakfast, if you have the same thing for breakfast every day. It does however include any behaviour that you do when you are aware of being observed, if you do that thing without any real thought behind it. The way I process a credit-card order at work is definitely cliched,I've done it so many times I could have a good crack at doing it blinfolded, and I definitely have no problem with making the same damn jokes and flourishes and encouraging remarks to the customer; unless I know them already its the same with every damn customer...... but it works.   But its a waste of those few seconds of my life every single time, if I've done it before so many times, right? I mean there is a great little theory about why your life flies by faster every year, I may have shared it with you before but here it is anyway:   As you get older, the world seems to pass by more quickly every year, and time flies past faster and faster as you get older. This is experienced by almost everyone. You wanna know why? Well its actually really damn obvious, and is linked intrinsically with the applicability of cliches- Whenever you do the same phsyical exercise eg: a bench press: you build the memory of how to do that exercise into your muscles (or rather, you mind gets so used to controlling those muscles that exact way in that identical situation that it becomes incredbly easy as both your muscles are very, very good at doing the exercise, and your mind is very, very good at making your muscles do it, but I digress - lets just call it `muscle memory` because thats the explanation that does well enough for most poeple ) and much like muscle memory your mind develops `cliche memory` as you perform the same mental routines in your head again and again and again, and this covers so many things its almost impossible to control: how much thought do you put into making a cup of tea or coffe? Or processing an invoice or standard piece of paperwork in the office? Or giving someone in a nightclub the same response you always do if they ask you for a cigarette? (whether you smoke or not, its usually either yeah mate *fumble* *produce open packet* *offer lighter* or "nah sorry mate I dont smoke") Or when you think of your upcoming holiday which, after a few tries at picturing it, becomes another easy-to-remember cliche of mental activity? Or when you look back on a striking holiday/moment of disaster/life-changing experience/sexual encounter/embarrassing moment/few seconds of glory? All these little physical and mental routines are cliches because we hardly have to think about them at all to fully realise the process and achieve the same damn outcome each time. Which all adds up to mean -   There is less thought and therefore less actual life experience that you, well, experience or undergo each and every time you perform one of these cliches. Which is less actual life you are living; and you do these things thousands of times a day...   Of course it mainly seems that time has already passed more quickly, not that it is passing more quickly, because in the moment you can't look back on the whole of your life so far, but when your are doing such a thing the years all slide by faster and faster as you remember less activity and thought going on each month or week or year. Which in truth is what has happened... but you percieve it as less life.   -   So basically, cliches are bad news But it is impossible to function without them. In fact, the phrase `impossible to function without` is a cliche itself. So what? I just killed a tiny bit of my life by using it, once again. But at least I was thinking about not thinking about it Which must count for some visceral experience somewhere along the line.   -   The moral of the story though? - Don't do the same things again and again and again and again; break the pattern and try new things, because without that, your life is nothing but one big cliche    

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This is a cheat.

This is me cheating, because I am fed up with seeing my signature have such a stupid bloody phrase in it, and I'm fed up with knowing that my last post was just a drunken ramble. I've got 3 more articles coming soon, and those are just the ones I already know about so if I can get some time tomorrow at work (quiet Saturday, pweeeeeaaaase!!!) and I can maybe get some photos too (which one of the little articles really requires) then I should be able to flood you all with yet more nonsensical whimsy and oblique referrals to things that may or may not be worth referring too.   So there     Edited bit: Oh okay, you got me, I just couldn't stand being the third blog down from the top of the page for more than a coupla days In appropriate news, then:   A very warm welcome to both Guinness and Shard, friends in blogging we shall be, although I wont be able to shoot Shard in the knees like I can in real life tee hee..   So yeah, very happy to see they've both joined and particularly happy to see that, thanks to Guinness, I aint the only silly old fool who can prattle about airsofty stuff for 750+ words in one go   Its all good. Back soon....

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Arrrr, me toiling, work-weary hearties!

So I'm sitting here, drunk, awash upon a sea of uneasy feelings swelled with only barely considered regret, head arest upon a body of uneasy stomach and swimming headlong against the tides of heartburn which even now lap against the tainted walls of my poor, ailed internals. Poetic I may be feeling, entirely shameless I am not. Drunkeness become me so, however. I feel I owe something to drunkeness to record my thoughts at this time.   Considering the pomposity of the previous paragraph it is something remarkable that I didn't choose the word "juncture" to end it with. This was of course after consideration of the following - this - paragraph, which of course now presents itself to us in the full flowing light of paradox now that you may (?) choose to dwell briefly upon the plausibility of its inception, and whether that, considering I constructed it purely out of the inadequacies of the last, whether it really is at all necessary.   But you find yourself reading it, and so, it engenders necessity by this very virtue. Smug git, aren't I?   I have just finished watching Pirates of the Carribean 2; you may be able to tell of this eventuation by the language in which I now relay to you this very fact...   *Insert drunken Cap'n Jack quote here*   If you find yourself wanting in this oratory regard then I can quite happily play substitute for any drunkeness you find yourself lacking in, believe me...   -   But enough of this: I have a point ot make, however coherently divergent it may be in it's occasioning. Actually no, I'm quite likely just rascally drunk and rambling yet again, but hey, whaddya gonna do eh? Hell just screw it, why not indulge a silly drunken rascal and keep paying attention?                                                                   Oh hey, Thanks!!                                       What I was thinking of earlier in the day was a way to convey to you guys how goddamned f***ing tired I am; although surely the least of your possible concerns of course, but I'm so bleeding tired it warrants some explanation, and to be perfectly frank there's no-one I would care to impart this to other than your noble selves, as those I meet socially are all quite reasonable enough human beings to tell any a**hole who tries to pour their woes upon them to shut the **** up and stop whining. Although woes are not what I would call them, I'm actually very pleased that I have strained 90% of all possible muscles in my old worn & weary carcass, and naturally I would never dare imply that your fine selves are not in any way reasonable, although you may be, considering my last post here, rather less vocal than I would ideally appreciate (scream if you want to go slower, kids )   The muscles themselves have something else to say about it of course, but considering what I've gotten up to its not much of a surprise! From the top, then:   Sunday 10th December, 2006 (hey, not many more times we'll need to write that year in the date, eh? Feeling old yet? Jesus, I'm 24 and I feel middle-aged already. I bloody well hope that by the time I'm 60 I'll have accumulated some o' the wisdom of the ancients - by the scale at which I currently adhere to I'll be a `wise-man` when I'm thirty and an age-old sage by by the time I'm about 42!)   So I had something mentionworthy chalked up against that date did I? Or did I digress in a blaze of parentheses again? Oh dear folks, you're really gonna have to bear with me on this hehehe   Sunday 10th: wake up at about 7:00 after a reasonably light night, and proceed to don walking boots and heavy coat. Whatcha up to, 'hippy? Oh dear on a Sunday? Really? Sickening...   I went for a walk, wel more of a hike really, across the New Forest. And I mean that when I say `hike` - 7 miles up hill and down dale (geographical nuances notwithstanding) and by God my legs were aware of it; every f***ing step; by the time I had finished.   I also cracked my now-immortal line in the pub afterwards; Jason asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I answered him cheerfully with "a wheelbarrow-full of dying baby Jews." .... The pub instantly fell silent in one those real `local pub` moments. Some people just have no sense of humour..   Monday 11th: I and two colleagues carried between us 4 tonnes of roofing tiles (could you think of anything more mundane??) from 'round the back of a church in Southampton to our lorry waiting at the front. Sounds easy? Well try carrying 15-kilo armfuls of terracotta miscellaney more than 150 yards along ridiculously narrow passageways, and subsequently across (through) 8" deep mud (remember the rain last Sunday night? Exactly.) and stacking them in crates once you've done it. Thats over a tonne of weight carried each, through heavy mud, and all while under the mornic gaze of a dozen dopey brickies and labourers who seem to care more about union membershop than doing an honest day's work. Thats a real *badgeress* of a thing on a Monday morning when you are quite well tired enough after the weekend, thank you so very much!   Tuesday 12th: not a lot physically, apart from unconsciously repairing my battered body and also the usual brief labouring required by such customers as we have at this time of year.   Wednesday 13th: Usual customer needs, like carrying 100-kilo railway sleepers and manhandling 5-foot-tall chimney pots into people's cars on my own, such as these damned customers are wont to demand   Climbing in the evening, for 4 hours - and thats enough of a workout on it's own when you're pulling your bodywight around by your fingerips, and your bodyweight is just tipping the scales at 14 stone (196 lbs): as I'm clambering up a negatively-inclined spire of faked rock I ponder this, especially when the strains of Monday still creak in my joints!   Wednesday nigh also = drunkenness after the climbing. Given that I had only an hour between the us finishing and the time of bars closing I think I did rather well.   Thursday: roofing slates, several thousand thereof. Deep unrelenting joy. I'll probably have some kind of seizure soon and that will put paid to all that, haha!! (ho ho.... :S )   Friday, daytime: 3000 tiles - 8 tonnes-worth - of tiles shifted between myself and one other guy. I'm the younger (and more foolish) of us two by more than 20 years, too, so I was `going for it` rather more foolishly than the other dude. I paid the price that night; speaking of which;   Friday night; A club called Unit 22 in sunny Southampton. Okay well its not exactly sunny, but it alliterates quite well.   Unit 22; a metal/rock club, although I was unprecendentally pleased to hear so much more of the former and almost none of the latter Musical snob? Moi? Yeah it's a fair cop, book me in under charges of `taste`     Dancing like a lunatic for hours on end, and my legs and feet haven't recovered yet. I mean I was really going for it, people were telling me so the next day.... ....after I went to bed (well actually, I went to sofa, seeing as I crashed at my old mate Ben's house) at 7:00am and went to work at 12 midday for another 5 hours of office monotony. I gotta stop doing that I really do...   Sunday= skirmish!! Good solid day's running about the place, lots of fun but bloody hard work seeing as I had not, as yet, properly rested since the strains of the Sunday before!   Monday: labouring with more slates, only a thousand this time   Tuesday night: climbing again, several hours-worth of hauling my slightly overweight *albartroth* up cliff faces. Easier than it sounds, and it don't even sound too easy. Fun though, a good challenge.   Wednesday night: climbing again!! This time with those people who couldn't make it on Tuesday, and they need me to supervise them and sign them in (although one of them passed their individual assesment yesterday which was gratifying in the extreme   Thursday, today: I'm glad we were quiet. Apart from the driving lesson I had I did very little of note all day, and after 10 days of hectic stress I am glad of it. Shame I'm ripping the innards out of a bungalow tomorrow on the last day of work before Christmas, but hey. Whaddya gonna do? Its all part of the job...   *collapses*     N.B. Friday, today, I worked like a dog-on-speed all morning and my spine is now officially in another astral plane; at least thats how I reconcile the pain its giving me even now. Ow. Damn boss working us to death on the last damn day of work before damn Christmas, bas****...  

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Jingle Bells, hippy's Swell, he's not got a clue..

THURSDAY DECEMBER 14TH, ABOUT 9:00 AM....   Oh dear god is it morning already? Please y'honour, may I be excused from taking part in the world today? - I have a note from my liver....     What did I do last night? Got damned drunk and bought loads of stuff online that I really shouldn't have, eh? Mmm-hmm? Uh-huh.   Well on the plus side I should have a rather nifty (and excellently priced) replica of the Zatoichi (Blind Swordsman) sword, carbon steel and everything, on its way to me via the glories of our next-day postal courier network. Chances are I'll have it by January 8th or thereabouts, then   I should have bought it for someone else in a Christmas-generosity stylee, in all probability. Unfortunately for `someone else` however, I have a very finely tuned sense of what I like, and there ain't no way no-how that I'm gonna be agonising about all these presents for everyone else, and then leave the most important person right out of the picture! No, if I find anything on my present procurement perambulations that's just too cool then someone else is gonna have to go without this year I can always duplicate the gift my Dad received from his loving & grateful son last year - a lump of coal, gift-wrapped (with shaking hands, mostly from laughing. No I'm not joking. Yes, it was quite the amusing spectacle, especially when he got coal dust all over his clothes and everything. Am I a bast***? Well yes, but its an acquired skill.).   On the note of Christmas, especially Dad's at Christmas, I feel the need to ask exactly why it is that they are so bloody hard to find presents for??!!? What is it that Dads sign up to upon becoming Fathers that totally nulls their ability to want anything halfway reasonable, interesting or tangible? There's probably a form somewhere that forces them to become intractable bastards about this time every year. Those of you (chaps) with children know what I'm talking about; you are the reason your families get stressed at this time of year!! hehehe   -   Mothers are easy; Mothers have interests and hobbies, and they want new stuff for which to use within said hobbies and interests. Dads, well, Dads have everything they bloody need already and whatever they actually think they want is far too specific and tailored for anyone else to actually guess it right, and perish the thought that they could leave a discreet little list somewhere around the place so we'd all f***ing know!!   Old gits, they do it on purpose you know, its kind of like the reverse of how women test men all the time; this one is based on men testing their families all throughout the Christmas season, trying to keep us on our toes to see if we actually give a s*** about them enough to find something decent. Or to see if we've just been paying attenion actually its not the reverse at all its exactly the same as what women do ...   -   Now there is a gripe among some people that the last-ditch book buying is the refuge of the ill-prepared and the unimaginative, and well, yes its true that books are an easy way out as long as you know people's interests and hobbies.   Thing is though, there aint no goddamned way I'm gonna even be able to get any time off work for real-life shopping with high streets and suchlike, being as I work 6 days a week, climb, dance and read or write for a whole evening after work as well, and have to fit a skirmish into my Sundays then I really have no time to shop anywhere but t'internet!   Lets hope everyone is gonna be happy with some illegally downloaded music, pornography, and toy guns this year     THURSDAY DECEMBER 21ST, AGAIN, ABOUT 9:00 AM....   Hey check it out, you've been time-travelling in my blog, how badass am I eh? Eh? Well I dunno 'bout that, but I'm a little bit less of a bas**** than I thought because I haven't resorted to wrapping any more lumps of coal up this year, and I now have presents for everyone which I think is amazing!   I also have 2, count 'em: 1, 2; Zatoichi swords one for my mate Dan and one for me - yup, they are that good. I'm chuffed to buggery with 'em, and Dan is gonna be over the moon.   I managed to find something for my Dad totally by accident as well; I pre-ordered the 25th anniversary edition of The Secret Policeman's Ball, a comedy event that ran in the 70's and 80's with every comedy giant of the time and a bunch of other famous faces too (Rowan Atkinson, Michael Palin, John Cleese, Tommy Cooper, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore et al even bleedin' Sting and Eric Clapton were involved!) and I did that months ago, totally forgot about it, and now it arrived on Monday and its the *perfect* thing for Father dearest. That, and a few bottles of exceedingly fine Chianti, make his Christmas a pretty merry one, I reckon   Mother has books on Yoga, good books that I researched carefully. And some wine of her own, because we all appreciate a good ######-up at our place, even if it is only once a year   My friends made the real score this year though, Dan is getting a sword (I mean come on, he's not even expecting a christmas card and he's gonna be better off to the tune of one fine-*albatross* blade this year; yeah, I rock) the girls I go climbing with are each getting a Powerball which should help them out loads in improving finger strength and easing tendon aches, and half a dozen other people are getting books of varying degrees of sickness, practicality, and literary interest.   And Claire, who does my hair, is getting a David Hasselhof calendar. Its a long-running joke and she actually will put it up at work, I know it, so in essence I've forced a whole office full of people at B&Q headquarters to stare the 'Hoff right in his hairy pecs for the next entire year -   Christmas spirit? - my work here is done

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R.S.V.P. - I bloody dare you.

Okay I am a little officially pi**ed off now - this blog is getting harder and harder to devote any time to, and I see that I'm not exactly alone in thinking this, judging by the paucity of my fellow blogger's input lately. I get where you're coming from guys; for what do we bother contributing anything?   Does anyone else out there in Interwebland remember in the film Die Hard, just after the sleazy sales guy called Ellis gets one between the eyes from Hans Gruber (Mmmmm, H&K P7 goodness... ), and the cops outside the building are blaming Mclane for the execution even though it just wasn't him, the idiot cop in charge mouths off and tells everyone that Mclane "..just let him die man, thats like pulling the trigger yourself.."   And Mclane says it best, when Al Powell (that big black cop who's down on the ground outside? Played by Reginald Veljohnson? How the hell can you forget a name like `Reginald Veljohnson`??? dude probably has a queue of women from here to Alaska with a name like that) asks Mclane how he's feeling. To which the sage Mclane replies: "Pretty f***ing unappreciated, Al."   Thats me, that is. (Metaphorically) covered in bloodstains (well, I've got a touch of tendonitis) from the allegorical shards of glass over which I have walked (i.e. I've busted a gut at times just to write this thing and spent quite some time checking and editing and redrafting) and I sit here, hovering in the `post new entry` page like a bird of prey awaiting the first twitching sign of a good idea on which to swoop, and suddenly it dawns on me - I can complain about the lack of feedback and appreciation, derision, critique, adoration and amusement that I, or indeed any of us here are actually getting! (I know, I did this once before. I'm feeling more eloquent this time )   Not the most socially correct thing to say I know, but while I don't want to hear false praise I bloody well do want to hear from you if you think I should shut up! I could ask you to inspire us, I could ask you to ask US something for a change - after all its bloody obvious isn't it; the only people who have signed up to keep ranting to the world on a continual basis can only be over-opinionated egomaniacs - like myself - so it seems to make sense to take advantage of that and get the lowdown on your favourite topics from people who would be only too happy to give it.   But its not as easy as that is it? If we start asking for things then it'll all be terribly tragic if we fail to get anything: what a total confirmation of failure eh??! And you, the audience, what if you start asking and suggesting things but then the ideas run dry; you've found yourself with a commitment and an obligation, and no-one wants too many obligations now, do they?   So what about us? Are we not all obliged, having started this series of serried rants, to keep things going as they have been so far; to continue to entertain if at all we can? Well kinda, yeah. And its kinda cool, too.   I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say that we have started on this little escapade of `show & tell the world` because we reckon that we have something to say. Well, everyone has something to say, but we reckon our something is gonna a little bit more worthwhile than many other people's somethings, and seeing as we are having a go at proving that I reckon its fair enough to indulge us a little. Isn't it? Just to see what c**p we'll come out with next? Ain't it? Yeah 'course it is, and you know you wanna hear what's coming next...   ..which is that I think we're making a contribution to the quality of the site and to the worldviews of everyone who chooses to tune in, for better or worse, and I imagine that we're also all learning as we go along, too. I could hardly hold a pen to write more than a couple of short pages (thanks to tendonitis) a year ago but now I realise that all I needed was the ability to issue forth 1000 words at a time and I was capable of true brilliance in the art of ranting nonsensically about matters which are of no concern nor real importance to anyone!! Amazing, eh?   In truth I've got a lot out of writing this, and I enjoy it a lot: but without the opinions of you lot out there its all so much ego-stroking literary masturbation because it is all meaningless without a reciprocative audience.   This is media. Watch us perform. And get back to us somewhen soon, d'ya hear?     So what do I want? A little love people, just a little love.   Or hate.   Either way it shows you're listening   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~     N.B. I've done a quick copy-&-paste of my entire blog into an MS Word document, and I've spewed out over 22,500 words for your digestion and entertainment, which to me, the guy who failed college and was ejected from 2 schools*, seems like rather a lot, and is something of a little achievement and I don't mind saying so myself.   *The schools had a fair point, but the college was just blowing smoke in asking me to leave. Politics was afoot I'm afraid to say and I ingloriously lost out; I wondered if that was how the Liberal Democrat party felt come the general election To be fair though the college was the only one where academia and the level of study (non-existant in my case) had any part to play in my removal

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