BLOGGOTH Page 1 (Earliest)

Take the emotive subject of euthanasia. Safeguards are clearly necessary to ensure people are not pressured into ending their lives, but, provided that issue can be adequately addressed, I believe it should be entirely the individual's right to end their own life when it becomes intolerable or to specify in advance under what circumstances it will end. Some, for religious or other reasons, will disagree because they believe it is intrinsically wrong. If either my view or theirs prevails at least we will have a situation with some logical consistency.

What situation do we actually have? The usual cop out. We cannot lawfully administer a painless injection and allow someone to pass away quickly and peacefully, however, it appears to be ok to withdraw life support and let them die a lingering death by dehydration or starvation. We must hope that most are not in a condition to really feel this barbarism.

The Geneva convention on banned weapons. We are not allowed to gas our enemies. That sounds fine to me, it must be a truly horrible death. A horrible life for some that survive too. However, it is perfectly OK to blow somebody's limbs off, burn them to the bone, blind them with shrapnel or drop scatter bombs and mines to kill and maim for years to come.

I fail to see the logic of continuing to ban the first when the others are not banned. Call me cynical, but could it possibly be that gas, unlike bombs and missiles, is a relatively cheap and effective weapon that can be afforded by people from poorer countries? Could not possibly have them putting up an effective fight against our high tech. military might could we?

In most cases I do not agree with regime change. Not unless a proper analysis of the likely outcome indicates a good probability that those "liberated" will actually be better off afterwards in any case. A prolonged bloody civil war hardly seems a better option than a repressive dictatorship. But, if we are going to do it, why not use a method that has the fewest civilian casualties?

But if it came to light that any president or PM had indulged in "Covert operations" and sent an assassination squad in to eliminate the dictator they would be hounded out of iffice. Invading the whole damn country and killing tens of thousands of civilians to remove this one man is fine of course. That's in accordance with the rules of war. Jolly spiffing!

Church and dating

Female company is nice. Hard to find once you are past a certain age. Pity I'm not religious as the best place for finding love-seeking widows is church, it's a middle-aged man's dating service.

Bloke I used to share a house with on a previous contract was a religious loony, another born again Christian. Like all of them I have ever met (and I seem to keep meeting them for some reason) he had a background of "problems". Don't get me wrong, I am not anti-religion and they have all been really nice people. Even a cynical atheist like me gets a sort of glow when somebody who obviously really means it says "God be with you" when you part. It's meaningless crap, but it's sort of nice too.

This one spent most of his time at home reading the bible from cover to cover and underlining passages. He kept a diary full of jottings about the inspirations he derived from the good book each day. Like all of us, he had a few flaws in his principles. I was amazed when, after the lid of our dustbin went missing, he wandered off down the road and stole somebody else's. Another was that he kept on trying to get his leg over with all the fifty something widows and divorcees he met at Bible classes. He was quite a charming bloke and had some dating success. On at least one occasion that I know of he got one of these pious ladies up to his room.

They could have just been studying Mathew 2 of course.

What decline in standards?

We hear constant complaints about the behaviour of our youth, the drunkeness, mindless violence, racism, crime and promiscuity. There is no decline. That is an illusion created by the rise of politically correct and liberal thought and the growing obsession by those at the top to control our lives.

When was Britain at its peak? That's right! the Victorian era. And how did Britain get to be great? Right again! Lots of violently inclined young men got blind drunk - gin in the army, rum in the navy, kicked the shit out of a lot of wogs and fuzzy wuzzies, stole their countries and shagged their women.

All our young men are lacking today is a proper use for their talents. I suggest immediate invasion of Norway and Denmark. We never did get those bastards back for all those Viking raids.

PS. I have been racking my brains to remember what the Victorian Air Force drank before battle. It was probably Campari and soda. Bunch of wooftahs!

Ambitions 1

I fear I have left it too late to fulfil my dreams now but my major ambition was always to join that very select band, actually I can only think of the Marquis De Sade and Gerontius, who have had a sexual perversion named after them.

Unfortunately, I think just about everything has been done. The most outrageous things that one could do are really just variations on or combinations of old themes. Fondling giraffes covered with shaving cream might attract some attention but it's really just a more ambitious version of the sort of thing most people do all the time with smaller animals.

I continue to wrack my brains and so far have only come up with one promising line. An obsession with disguising oneself as the naughty bits of compete strangers. I would envisage painting oneself pink and sticking a few curly hairs on, then sneaking up on unsuspecting women (or men according to sex and orientation) and pretending to be their parts. One only really gets off if you can get shagged by their wife/husband/partner without either of them noticing the difference.

Talking of De Sade, I have no time for that horrible stuff. I have a very romantic streak and feel that whatever the object of one's affections, whether slugs or hot water bottles, sexual activity should only be embarked upon in the context of a loving relationship.

The Tory elections

I am very sorry for the other candidates (I am being insincere, you're all crap!!!!) but the enormous clout of the xoggoth support is mobilising behind Davis.

A bit more to the right, and more importantly, the right sort of right. Not the horrible queen, toffs, landed gentry, Christian principles, Mary Whitehouse (rot in hell you evil old witch!!!!) crappy sort of right, nor the "business is our god and people don't count" sort of right, but a proper libertarian right where everyone does whatever the fuck they want provided it does not impact others too much and anyone is rewarded if they do whatever they are capable of.

What is the point of a Conservative government if it does not believe in:

1. small government and low taxes
2. Incentive to make an effort
3. freedom of the individual
4. national self determination
5. a distinctive British culture
6. some values and aspirations beyond where the next 4 by 4 is coming from

May as well vote for the Mad Messiah*.

Of course that old chesnut "It's policies that count not the personality" is bilge. No point having brilliant policies if you can't convince anyone. I have to admit that my man seems to have fallen down on that one. Maybe we should eradicate personality from politics so that policy is the only thing we can decide on. Radical surgery on all PM hopefuls is the answer. Cut their spinal cords and turn them all into Steven Hawkin types. Let them convince the electorate via ZX spectrum voice boxes.

If that doesn't work, who cares? Drastic disabling surgery on politicans would be fun in its own right and cheer us all up.

*Note: I will explain the main political cast of xoggoth blog only once. The Mad Messiah is Tony Blair, egocentric, I am never wrong even when I am, warmongering, lying PM of Britain. Gordon Fat-Lying-Scottish-Bastard Brownstuff is the utterly incompetent, grab 5 billion a year from pensions, gosh we have a pensions crisis!, totally incompetent Chancellor of Britain. I trust that's clear.

Offspring

I see that my Blog guru Trin (whose totally devoted bitch I am) has posted another picture of her daughter on her website. She looks very nice and neat and clean in that picture but I notice you don't post a picture of HER ROOM Trin! Has it got three week old mouldy cereal bowls nestling among six week old underclothes like my son's???

I would like to apologise in advance to all inhabitants of Western Europe. When the Black Death rages across Europe again It will not be the fault of the Chinese.

PS Hey! A worldwide disease that is not the fault of the Chinese or the Africans!!! that will make a change!

PPS Tim. If you do have not cleaned your room by the time I next come home I will take pictures and publish them here!

Bottoms - an apology

Looking over this page, I am struck, as I daresay others will be, by how often I talk about bottoms. Please bear with me, I am really trying very hard not to continually go on about enormous bottoms. I consider I have made great progress by actually talking about a few other things in this blog. Other than enormous bottoms that is. Before I started the rehab, I would just have had a page full of pictures of enormous planet-eclipsing bottoms, so I am making progress in kicking my enormous bottom obsession. I hope I can rely upon the support of any readers to encourage me in kicking this terrible obsession with enormous bottoms. I am not looking for sympathy but this obsession (with enormous bottoms) has quite ruined my life.

Ancient privileges

Sometimes people get away with anything just by being old. People get away with anything for lots of other reasons too. I want to be an old gay black man. Nobody would be allowed to criticise me for anything because that would be ageist/homophobic/racist.

Back to just being old. We used to go to parties where this old chap, late 70s, would often be. He used to wander about sticking his hand down the backs of women's knickers, especially if they had large bottoms. (yes, very similar tastes to my own). My wife got groped on several occasions. The odd thing was, just because he was so old they tolerated it with mild amusement. Anyone younger would have got their faces slapped. Can't wait till I get old.

He had a girlfriend of about his own age. When I had had a few one night, I told her that since her man had groped my wife's bum It was only fair that I should grope her's. It was supposed to be a joke but actually I rather enjoyed it. 80 year old bottoms are much nicer than you would imagine.

Ruination, guilt and cold bottoms

Had to come back to stinking Derby on Sunday as not worth going home after the wedding and the missus had to take her parents home. Too sunny to stay in, so decided to go to Matlock Spa and wander around Heights Of Abraham. Yes, ON MY OWN Trin! yes SAD I know!

I didn't bother to get out of the van. Enormous crowds, car parks full, bikers everywhere, cafes, hideous souvenir shops, lift things to the top. Christ! is there anything decent left in this fucking awful souless overcrowded country?? In the rare event one can even get to a place with all the traffic jams, when you do get somewhere it is always totally ruined. The Heights used to be magic. The difficulty of getting up there was one of the things that kept all the horrible lazy unfit fat people and their numerous foul spawn away from the place. I daresay it now has ice cream shops and cafes and all the other crap up there that the average scum UK citizen requires.

It was particularly upsetting as I have romantic memories of it. My first girlfriend went off to Salford University. When I went up to see her the first time we took a train down to Matlock Spa and made love on the Heights. It was freezing cold and there was frozen snow on the ground. Oooh. Bare bum on frozen snow!! GLAD IT WAS HERS!! Where are you now Gillian P?. If you ever chance on this and recognise the story, I'm sorry I was such a shit in the end.

Am I the only one who sometimes feels guilty about things he did decades ago? Sorry to you too, Sue (LD). When I think about it I even still feel guilty about making my kids cry by shouting at them. Not that they didn't thoroughly deserve it, the little SODS!

Talking of being shitty to women, I cannot help but notice that in those years when I was a really selfish thoughtless bastard I had a decent number of women. The more considerate and new mannish I became, the less successful I was. There must be a lesson there somewhere. Of course I have not been remotely interested in other women since I got married. Narry a one, free or otherwise, has passed my lips.

Has she gone? Right, where were we?

Ancient retribution

Speaking of kids deserving things, I know it has been a long time coming you two, but when your mother and I are old and senile and incontinent we intend to enact our revenge on the both of you by pissing on YOUR sofa and puking on YOUR new carpet. We will also leave our smelly old false teeth in your microwave and our colostomy bags in your breadmaking machine. Call it interest!

Fashion

Some blokes my age or younger seem incredibly staid. Shirts and even ties on a non-working day, Sensible grey cardigans. Not me. What's wrong with purple?

Not that I make any effort to dress young. The nearest I come to being selective about apparel is to give something I pick up off the floor a quick sniff before I put it on. If my preferences in clothes could be plotted against time it would be apparent that my decline into sartorial conservatism has been as rapid as anyone else's. I just started much further up the y axis. When I first met the wife I was dressed relatively smartly for me, brown cord trousers with big green crosses on the knees and an Archbishop Makarios hat. I used to have an outfit consisting of bright red trousers, bright green tea shirt and one of those little white food worker's caps sprayed with gold paint.

Perhaps not surprisingly, my sexuality was sometimes misconstrued. One time in Istanbul I was wandering around with my "Greek burial jacket" on. This was a sort of long waist coat with embroidered patterns and long frills round the bottom. I called it a burial jacket because it was made of goat's wool and stunk to high heaven. To be fair, it did look as though I had a mini-skirt on which may be why a bloke came up to me in the street and kissed me. Two days later there was that incident in a scrapyard which I never talk about, Suffice it to say I narrowly escaped having my aft virginity forcibly taken. I have never liked Turks since. Keep the skinny * little bastards out of the EU, we have as many used toothbrush salesmen as we need, thanks very much!

By the way, it is always possible to make nasty racist remarks if one can cite a valid personal reason. If an old bloke half starved by the Japanese in a prisoner of war camp says how much he hates the Japs even the most politically correct sort will start their nonsense with "Oh well, I can really understand why you feel that way personally of course but....". Did I mention I died at Rourke's Drift in a previous life? well I did! Anyway these bloody...

*Note: Until they reach 45 anyhow. On reaching that age, all Mediterranean blokes transmute into Jabba The Hut.

Weddings

Don’t you just love modern weddings? That procession up the aisle of all the bridesmaids and pageboys. Aaaah! Here comes the first bridesmaid, she’s about fifteen. Doesn’t she look a picture? She’s the bride’s daughter by her first husband, Mick. He came out in 1997 and ran off to live in Basingstoke with a senior hot water bottle tester. Then the tubby little twelve year old next to her. She’s the groom’s daughter by a previous partner. His two sons by the marriage before that never speak to him after the way he (alledgedly) treated their mother and aren’t here today. Shame. That ten year old pageboy, well he’s the bride’s son by her second husband, I think, or was it her third partner? I always get those two mixed up. Then the little red headed twins. Those, I believe, are from his second marriage. The little girl behind is his from his third marriage. Bringing up the rear, I just have to go aaah again!, the little pageboy in blue, just a toddler. That’s theirs! Odd the way the ginger headed father and blond mother have produced a child with such a dark complexion and that black frizzy hair, but genetics can be an unpredictable thing.

Donor cards

I do not know at what age one’s bits become considered past their use-by date and I suspect mine may already be on the reduced price shelves so it may be academic now, but for a very long time I have been a responsible and caring citizen and carried a donor card.

The words on the back of the card runs as follows:

I request that after my death ....
 blah blah 
b) any part of my body be used for the treatment of others

Underneath this I have written in black biro “Except civil servants or politicians”

This is probably a bit harsh as I am sure there must be some civil servants and politicians somewhere who are not tax grabbing bastards with a complete contempt for those of who us pay their wages; I really would not mind my organs going to Anne Widdecombe, for example. I did think of marking the card “please see addenda in opposite pocket” and carrying a dirty great notebook around spelling out hundreds of exceptions but in the end it was just too complicated.

I did think of putting a few positive preferences too. “I would especially wish that after my death my penis be made available for transplant into Catherine Zeta Jones’s bottom”. But then I thought that the likelihood of Catherine urgently needing such a transplant to save her life was a bit remote.

Bird Flue

I see this is front page news again in some papers. A virus crossing the species barrier from chickens. Isn't AIDS thought by some to have crossed the species barrier from other primates? How come these things always seem to "cross the species barrier" in certain parts of the world? I have my own theories on that, fnaar, fnaar. But chickens? No accounting for taste I suppose, but chickens define zero on the xoggoth scale of atractiveness. Baboons define ten, slightly in front of enormously-bottomed human women at nine, so if the theory is true the AIDS thing was very understandable.

I want to make it clear that if Slug Flue crosses the species barrier it will not be my fault. They are devilishly attactive but it wasn't me, honest, I never touched 'em.

Management solutions 1

Drawing on my extensive knowledge of business I am serously thinking of marketing a range of web-based management solutions. One thing missing from the market is a Mission Statement generator. The client types in some details about his business, the sector, his future plans etc. and the generator then puts together a suitably high-sounding paragraph incorporating suitable words and phrases from a pre-defined list, "leading edge", "market leader", "world beating", "customer focused" and so on.

However, it is not just a simple thing for stringing buzzwords together, it is much more sophisticated than that. Optionally, managers of small and even one-man companies can input further information about their interests, hopes and ambitions for the company and get a tailored mission statement that expresses their own personalities.

I have been working on this for some time and last night I was ready to do some preliminary testing, so I typed in the details of my contracting company. Quick as a flash it came up with the ideal Mission Statement for xoggoth Services Limited that truly encapsulates all my ambition and enthusiasm.

Turn up. Get paid.

Mission Statements again

It is hard to make company Mission Statements inspirational. However hard we try and pretend otherwise, business and commerce these days is boring. Perhaps back in the more robust Victorian era it wasn't when, for example, employee motivation meant setting the dogs on them. Now there's no real fun in owning a business at all. Things were even better further back in time. Mission statements in Ancient Britain would have really meant something. You could have looked at the mission statement for your tribe and have felt proud and immensely motivated.

It is the intention of the Iceni to become the ruling tribe In Mercia. We intend to ruthlessly conquor all our enemies, slaughter all the men and ritually eat their hearts to take their power, steal their lands and cattle, shag all their women and sell their children into slavery.

Icons

Because of the wedding tomorrow I have had to get my hair cut and now look quite smart. Most unlike me. Two of the main role models for my life are Alistair Crowley and Compo from Last of the Summer Wine. In fact, although I do not have any socially unnaceptable interests in children (far too small and skinny for my tastes), I have to admit that physically - in age, appearance and choice of vehicle (old white van) I entirely fit the profile for a paedophile. If there is a club, perhaps I could be an associate member.

Had my hair cut by a nice young lady. When that happens I always find it very hard to resist asking if she does "extras".

But probably she would not have that brand of hair cream.

Dirty jokes and social failure

One would think that a disgusting mind like mind would retain dirty jokes. Or maybe that's why I don't remember them, they just get lost in the general maismic swamp of total disgustingness that fills my head.

One of the inmates here at Castle Dracula made a curry for us all last night and as usual large amounts of drink were consumed. Then one bloke told a fairly mild dirty joke which I have already forgotten. Then the bloke next to him came up with one. Edge of panic. This wasn't going to get round to me was it?? No, safe! Middle aged woman as buffer, they never know any dirty jokes. Then she told one!! Aaaaah!! Everyone looked at me. The only one I could think of was really horrid - anal bestiality seemed to be several levels below the mild jokes that had already been told and the other female present did not seem like the sort to appreciate it. So I just went lamely, "er, I really can't think of one" Another social failure.

Fortunately this other lady could not think of one either. Maybe she was lying too. I expect hers was much worse, the scarlet hussy, but my joke is this one.

Bloke comes home on Friday and says to his wife. "Hey dear! let's pack up the car and go away for the weekend on a fishing trip, just you, me and the dog"

"Yeah I know" says the bloke, "the dog didn't want to go fishing either"

Contract hell continues

God's teeth! Last week this contract rated as 1 out of 10. This week it has plummeted to -30!

Bloody hell! Analysis, requirements, quality control, configuration control, on and on and on. This is no way to create aircraft control software. Proper software should be written because it looks cool and trendy. I note today that the most excellent contributor Threaded on ContractorUK has mentioned XMLHTTP Multiple asynchronous calls. Not the vaguest idea what it means but at the weekly project meeting this afternoon I shall strongly suggest that we stick some of those in the Thrust Reverser software. I will throw in a few buzzwords about needing to be at the cutting edge of technology and remaining... (reads from company mousemat) a world-class supplier of blah blah leading edge technology blah blah engineering excellence blah blah transvestite bananas blah bl.., oh no! hang on!, I wrote that bit on it myself!

Nothing wrong with a bit of humour in technology either. A few practical jokes could really brighten up the passengers' day. Oh my god!, we're losing a thousand feet a second! Stewardess, quick for god's sake! Put a clean bog roll in the rear toilet, it's the only thing that will restore the engine power!

If not feeling very awake or with it, it is also perfectly permissable to fall back on the old xoggoth standby of random code. Consulting tea leaves or similar is also a valid substitute for boring testing. Yeh! that module is ok! What? well no, I didn't actually look at, but It's bound to be ok as my horoscope says everything will go right for me today.

As for testing the complete aircraft, well what's wrong with good old trial and error? It was good enough for the Wright brothers and they were making a quantum leap in avionics, not just building something that's a percentage point different from the one before. Whhooooa!, that one didn't get very far did it? We got any more in the hangar? Yeh, I know it would be a bit dangerous for the pilots and the people underneath but everything's being outsourced to India anyway and they aren't exactly short of people are they?

Mazes and rages

Revealing my age here, but entering this god awful office is like being stuck in the old ZX81 game, 3D Monster Maze. Loads of Identical interconnecting featureless straight corridors with identical featurless fire-doors at the end of every one. The only variation is that some of the doors require you to insert your access card. Why they think any organisation would want to steal the crap we produce in this place I have no idea. Card. Door. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Door. Door. Right. Left. Right. Card. Door. Straight. Door. Door. Straight. Door. Finally - office. Sod. Rex missed me again. Being eaten was my only hope for a pleasant day.

And in all this maze of corridors, in terms of actual space, doors must take up 2%. So why the hell is it that every time somebody else is in the corridors dodging V toothed Tyranosaurs they must they always arrive at the sodding door at exactly the same sodding time that I do?? Bugger off!! I got here first!.I don't just have road rage, I have door rage! And that ruddy idiocy of holding doors open for people! If they are right behind you, fair enough, but some stand there like twats when you are stil halfway down the corridor so you feel you have to hurry to save them waiting. I can open a bluddy door myself you know.! Now bugger off! BUGGER OFF!!

Famous places near xoggoth towers 2

Famous place 2. (sub section 4 para iv). Ashdown Forest, home of Winnie the Pooh

Sometimes I catch myself thinking and I think (I have many levels of thought, unlike you ordinary people - don't knock schizophrenia) WHAT A MISERABLE OLD SOD! Mind in the gutter! Always finding the most grotesque and mucky aspects of everything, take me to heaven and I'll complain the toilets are dirty! I know, it's just the way I am, I geuss. BUT, it's mostly the way LIFE REALLY IS, you moronic optimists!! Spirituality??? Pah!! We will get to the relevance of this at the end of this thread.

The Ashdown Forest is mercifully free from the worst trappings of tourism. If you are one of those godawful people who would go there hoping to find the Hundred Acre Wood Theme Park or the Eyore Cafe or huge souvenir ships selling "Made in China" Tigger Pencils then you will be disappointed. There is nothing like that! Hey look!, didn't you read the sign on the way in? I don't want any unescorted common people on this site!!! Well, you can stay now you're here I suppose, but please try to remain in the corner of the website reserved for the lower orders!.

There's a remarkably tasteful Ashdown Forest Centre which does not even mention Pooh. Wild life, iron smelting in the iron age, stuffed badgers. Incidentally, have you ever noticed this about one of our favourite British animals? Although it is always very easy to tell a live animal from a stuffed one even if it stays perfectly still, there is one exception. Robins always look stuffed!

Near the famous Pooh places you will find some adequate unattended parking (Signs "Please take care of valuables" everywhere) and, when it's sunny, a Mr Whippy Ice Cream van. That's it. There are no "facilities". Oh dear! That is why the "Magic Place" is full of turds and toilet tissue! The name Pooh was prophetic!

PS Found this on the web. 1998. Bloddy Americans have got Pooh? Did the Mad Messiah get them back? I doubt it. The USELESS BASTARD could never manage to do anything remotely useful.

Famous places near xoggoth towers 1 (and religion)

Famous place 1. Saint Hill Manor. World headquarters of Scientology where Mr. Hubbard himself did lots of his, erm, pioneering work. An enlightened path, a harmless nutty cult or something very sinister? I could not possibly comment, just in case. Here is one of the many sinister theorist websites. All I can say is that I go to the gym right opposite and so far I have not been kidnapped by crazed "clears" or Tom Cruise. Does scientology have any merit? Well if Isaac Asimov or Arthur C Clarke had invented Scientology I would give it a second look. But Hubbard?? Yeh gods! I tried one of his books once and threw it away after ten pages. What garbage! Ah yes! I hear you cry, but Jesus was only a simple carpenter etc etc. True, but he was also supposed to be the Son Of God which probably raised him slightly above the average chippie in the intelligence stakes. Incidentally, why is there nothing in the bible about how Jesus actually did as a carpenter in his early years? My bet is he was much in demand. "You must get Jesus in to do your airing cupboard, look how straight he got our living room shelves! It's nothing short of a miracle!"

It is perfectly reasonable to judge a religion by its founder. Jesus was the Messiah, the son of god, Buddha means "one who is intuitive, awakened, or enlightened", Muhammed was not just a prophet but a widely respected diplomat and a lawmaker in his own time, he drafted the constitution of Medina. If founders of religions had to apply for the job I think those would be pretty fair CVs. But Hubbard??? Hang on a minute, drafted a constitution? Muhammed was a civil servant! Probably explains the miriad of pointless rules in Islam. I expect Ramadam started as an extended teabreak but something got lost in the translation.

Warning, warning, diversion. If you ask a thousand people which one of Jesus's apostles was a tax collector, I bet most will say Judas. Actually it was Mathew. I WONDER WHY anyone would make such a mistake??? I can't think.

So what about other religions? I know just as little about any of those but I never let ignorance stand in the way of my opinions, or let a few inconvenient facts alter them for that matter, we at xoggoth.org are made of stronger stuff. So here is the rundown.

Sikhism. A military tradition that requires them to carry a little ceremonial dagger, some rather gory images in their temples, all the hair and that turban. Until the violence outside that play earlier this year I expect most had a fairly positive opinion of Sikhs as did I. Don't spoil it lads! I will let them off just this once and am not going to say a word against Sikhism. Something nags me slightly though. Dark complexion, a lot of hair, a military tradition? Seems familiar. Do those turbans conceal Montellimar foreheads?? Are they really KLINGONS?

Buddhism. My extensive knowledge of Buddishm has been obtained from watching "7 years in Tibet|". That bit where they refuse to proceed with building the movie house until they have relocated all the little worms. What a marvellous religion! I never kill anything now and it pays because most of these little creatures are nice to me in return. Wasps never sting me because I don't flap at them like most people do. I have even had red ants all over my arms when re-laying a few paving slabs on the patio. Red ant bites hurt like billyo but I did not get bitten. I could almost hear them saying "It's ok ladies, its only xoggoth, he'll put the slab back gently in a minute and squash hardly any of us". I am ashamed to admit I used to kill houseflies and bluebottles. Like most people, I did not like the idea of things hatched out of corpses and fresh from a meal of poo crawling on my bacon and egg. But recent studies show that many modern allergies are down to inadequate exposure to germs in childhood. Sensible mothers should be dipping their kid's hamburgers in dear departed granny's remains and rolling them in dog poo before serving. The one exception? Mosquitoes. Nothing sticks its pointy mouthparts into xoggoth, not unless the favour is going to be reciprocated anyhow.

Satanism. Criticise a religion that requires one to kiss a goat's bottom?? You must be joking! Where do I sign up?

Hinduism. Erm, erm, washing in the Ganges, cows wandering about, feeding corpses to vultures, all sounds pretty decent to me. And don't they have a god who is a baboon? That clinches it. Good religion!

Mormonism. Salt Lake City. Some angel called Macaroni. More than one wife? I could not possibly complain about them. They are suffering enough already.

Jehovah's Witnesses. Dull magazine but I quite like the second chance. Even us atheists would believe in religion if we had got dead the first time and found out we were wrong. The door to door lot always seem to include some very nice young ladies too. BUT, sorry Witnesses! Thumbs down until you STFU ABOUT EVOLUTION!

Judaeism and Islam again. Beats me why Muslims and Jews don't get along famously. Circumcision, ritual slaughter of animals (what's the betting those practices would have been banned years ago if carried out by Presbyterians?). The stricter versions seem to have so many very similar rules about every aspect of their lives they look more like obsessive-compulsive disorder than religion. For outsiders the big difference between the two is to be found on the web and the daily news. There do not appears to be many Jews advocating Judaic society in Britain, carrying out bombings around the world, complaining when others want to honour their war dead, declaring holy wars or demanding that everyone else should remove emblems that happen to offend them.

This leads me to my REAL objection to both these religions. Neither of them LIKE PIGS. That is just unforgiveable. I like pigs! I do not expect everyone else to like pigs in quite the way I do (only female pigs mind, I would not want anyone to think I am a degenerate old pervert) but we all like pigs in the west. Babe, Pinky and Perky, Porky pig, pigs in cartoons, pigs in childrens' books, pigs in adverts. Pigs are nice and pink and jolly and funny. Here is a picture of two pigs.

Ok, that's it. Thanks for coming

This thread is finished.

You can LEAVE now.

Go, go on! bugger off!!!

This other pig picture is purely for my own gratification. I saw her first. We want some privacy! GO AWAY!!!

Closing down sale. Drivel going cheap

Damn.

Is bloggoth grinding to a halt even before it has started?? Maybe it's just because I got up in one of those worried and negative about everything sort of moods but I can see so many limitations. My bollox threads on ContractorUK and other sites have the benefit of disappearing rapidly off the front page (I think I must be the proud holder of the CUK record for least read posts for the sixth year running) so if I make any comments about people I know they are very unlikely to see them. Not that I would usually make intentionally nasty comments about anyone except politicians, but my tongue in cheek comments might be taken seriously. Wife says my humour sometimes has a nasty edge to it. My cartoon for Romeo and Juliet at right was deemed not in keeping with the National Curriculum.

Rather rude too. Last week at work conversation turned to new Elisabeth I TV prog with Helen Mirren. When somebody asked if I would want to shag Helen I naturally replied that I'd shag anything as long as it hadn't been dead for too long; a perfectly ok reply in contractor circles. But I am terrified that one day I might be talking to my pleasant but very devout neighbours about the moss on the lawn and suddenly some embarrasing remark about bonking baboons will burst from my lips. Slipped up with the mother in law once. She enquired what I'd do if I didn't get a contract soon and I said I was retraining to be a rent boy.

I also don't want to post anything remotely serious on xoggoth.org. There are so many things about this crap country that piss me off but xoggoth.org is for fun, I want to enjoy doing it. If I started on about this utterly awful undemocractic lying bunch of scum... ah no!! STOP STOP. I feel myself getting ratty already.

And I don't have any desire to post anything personal here either, unless it's tongue in cheek stuff that I can shrug off as a joke. Not sure why people want to post real details of their lives on the net or why anyone would want to read most of them. I like Trin's stuff (see link at top) because she has such a funny oddball approach and writes well, but some of em. I don't want anyone to know how dull my life is in any case, not that that consideration stops some people, one I looked at last week was full of stuff like the postman delivering his long awaited copy of FrontPage Express. Wow!

Neither can I be bothered trawling the net for links to interesting material, plenty of others doing that already. If I was going to post links I would probably just post 105 links each to Salad Fingers, Trogdor and that one with the kittens with big eyes. My sort of humour.

Neither is a blog the right place for total fantasy. I was going to do the one about waking up with a sore bottom and discovering my arse had been out cottaging while I was asleep but it isn't blog material. Things like that I can use in xoggoth tales.

So that doesn' leave a lot. Er um. Nice weather isn't it?

Still, I have two weeks to think about it. Not home next week due to a wedding in Northamptonshire. I think it's this particular niece's 13th wedding. Probably to her great-great-grandfather, they are enormously inbred in Northants. Must remember to pack my banjo.

PS Inlaws. I don't mean it really.

Not of the quality we require.

It's not enough to keep putting bloody rates and taxes up, the sodding public sector seems to want to do less and less for the ever increasing amounts we pay them. The bin men used to collect our dustbins from round the back. Now we are obliged to put everything out the front in plastic bags with rubbish sorted by type and if its isn't sorted properly they don't take it. What next? A parcel from the local sewage works?

Dear Sir or Madam,

DNA testing has established that the enclosed belongs to you. We regret we are unable to process this in our facility as it is not of the required consistency. In future, please ensure that any excrement and paper accompaniment from yourself and your family is in the required form and to the standards as laid down in Leaflet 301 available from Council offices.

Yours Faithfully,

Senior Manager, Mid Sussex Excrement Inspectorate

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Fridays

Waheeeee POETS's day. Better not be any silly old fools at the booking office again. Couple of old twits made me miss my train last week. What use are they? Yes, I know. I'll be old some day and then I may be more tolerant. I'll be dead someday too; doesn't mean I should be happy to have a lot of corpses hanging about.

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Planes, Muslims and grandmothers

Planes from Gatwick very noisy for October, I am seriously thinking of renting out my garden to Islamic terrorists. Now the garden furniture has been packed away there's lots of room for missile launchers on the patio. Is there an Al-Quaida version of Friday Ad?

Maybe get the wife to provide some suitable snacks but Muslim eating preferences seem a bit complicated. My grandmother would have sorted them out. "YOU'RE NOT LEAVING THIS TABLE UNTIL YOU'VE EATEN UP ALL YOUR PORK!" They would have too, even fear of not getting to heaven would have paled into insignificance compared to the immediate terror of my grandmother.

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PJ

Hey! The great P.J.Proby is still going strong. Thought he'd retired to be a farmer or something. Marvellous stuff, never been another voice in popular music like his. Bathnights without fail, I warm up with a few Billy Holiday and Nat King Cole numbers, then after washing all the bits, relax and launch into my PJ reportoire, "Maria", "If I loved you", "The Nearness of You", "Young Man Rhythm" complete with the ooooaaah! Annoys the hell out of the rest of the family and probably the neighbours. A pleasure is always that much greater if it makes others miserable.

PS. Just listened to some samples on that site. What a disappointment! The voice is still as good as ever but where's his distinctive style? In "City of New Orleans" he sounds exactly like Johny Cash and he sings "Heartbeat" just like Buddy Holly. Worse, he sings that utterly drippy song "Imagine" in the style of its utterly drippy peace and lovey author, Lennon. Only "Tell Laura I Love Her" really sounds like PJ and that isn't much of a song.

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Day of, land of and everything else of the dead.

I do like Saturdays, especially if decent enough to sit in the garden with missus and several dozen vodkas. We start off with sensible conversation about our week and end up talking total bollox.

They were doing the Mexican "Day of the Dead" at her school apparently and the kids were fascinated. I know that feeling. Cadavers, corpses, ZOMBIES! I went to see "George Romero's Land of the Dead" in the week. One can get away with going to see films on one's own when away from home in the week on contract as it is a good excuse for not knowing many people.

Plot, characterisation, meaning, human interest. Why must they spoil films with nonsense things like that? What more does a film need than lots of flesh-eating zombies??

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Vans

Have to look for a new van this weekend as MOT is due on my old van in a few weeks. Here are some pictures of my old van. (Well, there will be some when I take them! - they will be well worth the wait I can tell you!)

This is mostly Blackpool's fault. I had a contract there over the winter about three years back and rented a holiday flat on the seafront. Went home for the weekend by train leaving it parked on the promenade. Biggest storms to hit the North East for about 20 years. Pictures of Blackpool on the 6 O'clock news. Isn't that the top of my van poking out of the sea? When that hole near the foot pedals opened up I found seaweed in it.

Blackpool in Winter! Ech! Not into gay bars and nothing else to do but go to Arcades. I got to be an expert in "House of the Dead". Incidentally one gay bar had a big sign "GAY BAR" on the door. I bet it isn't half as much fun now it's generally accepted.

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Discretion or lack of

Discretion seems to be a lost art generally.

There's a place in Birmingham that has a huge sign in red and white "Colonic Irrigation Clinic". If I was going to have my bum pumped full of washing up liquid I would prefer that my intention was not obvious to the passengers of the passing number 36a bus to Solihull.

There's a massage parlour in Derby with a big sign "MASSAGE" right opposite the station. As one does not want to be seen as a saddo who is unable to get a woman for free, one has to walk up and down for ages outside such places pretending to be looking at something else until the coast is clear. Er, um, so I would imagine anyhow!

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Claypits and young men's bottoms

The flooded quarry behind our house.

A while back me and no 1 son and one of his mates got a bit plastered and decided to go for a dip. Me and no 1 kept our clothes on. Drunk or not, one does not wish to reveal one's shortcomings in front of offspring, too Oedipal! The mate stripped off so we took lots of pictures of his bum which no 1 duly posted on the internet and emailed to all his mates.

All seems a tad homo-erotic to me but this bloke does this a lot apparently. There was a similar performance when they had the birthday barbecue. Wife says it's normal at their age. Can't say I recall doing such normal things. I must be a poof.

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Educational software businesses and painting young girls

I run a very small educational software business with sister. She does all the real paintings, I just do the cartoons for the buttons.

Have had a go at doing a Shakespeare program myself but my painting is not really up to it. May try again as soon as this unnutterably boring contract is finished. The main problem is the faces, but I find that can be improved if I work from a photo. Juliet's and Friar Lawrence's faces here are made up but I redid Mercutio's face as Brad Pitt. He started out as Kenny Everret. I see Friar Lawrence as Peter O'Toole. Not sure about Juliet yet.

When I did my first Juliet I painted a huge tart with enormous tits and a bum that could have sunk the titanic. When I showed it to the wife, she commented acidly that Juliet was supposed to be only 13. No pleasing some people. Most wives would be glad their husbands had no idea about the anatomy of 13 year old girls.

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