BLOGGOTH Page 2

The ramblings of a sleezy old git

If you don't like my blog then a) Sod off. b) Blame this lady for inspiring my venture.

Bloggoth Mission Statement:
     We aim to never raise our sights above the gutter and preferably to stay much lower

Male Maori bottoms, interactive TV and used knickers

Watching the Scotland vs New Zealand rugby game with Missus earlier. Scotland 3, NZ 22. Who would have thought it??? Noticed the All Blacks seem to have more Maori players. Also noticed, in the scrum involving one Maori player, what a large bum he had and how tight his sorts were. Aaaaaagh! Don't say I am starting to notice men's bottoms now? What is happening to my sexuality? Is this just the ageing syndrome? In its final splutterings, does the libido become completely indiscriminating? What next? Will I start fancying pot plants or loaves of Hovis wholemeal bread?

Also noticed how players supposedly after the ball often rake other players with their studs. Missus, who is very knowledgable about sport, says that if they are spotted they can be sent off for that. Difficult for referees or linesmen to spot every incident. But I did and I suppose many TV viewers much more interested in the game would have spotted even more incidents. So what is this interactive TV for then?? Why can not viewers press their red buttons followed by the player number when there is any sort of sporting fowl? With TV cameras covering every angle I am sure very few incidents in any sport would escape notice. We could get rid of all those referees and linesmen altogether. When I suggested this, the missus very sensibly pointed out that many viewers would be biased. So clearly one would need additional software to apply weightings to viewer votes. Postcode and (eg Rangers vs Celtic, or Man U vs Man C matches) religion and other factors would have to be factored in.

And why stop there? I do not have interactive TV but I understand it allows you to choose different camera shots. Great. Why not have a camera behind and beneath women's races in sporting events? All those lovely female athlete's bottoms! Cor. Why is it all the loveliest bottoms in sport are black? And tennis. If I could select my own shots of Serena William's matches, I would actually take an active interest in tennis. What about in-knickers cameras? Or cameras in the women's showers? or, and naturally this would be my own personal favourite, cameras down the toilets pointing upward. Mmmmmmmmm. Surely it is the duty of the media and the government, in the interests of a healthier nation, to promote such interest. I commend this project to the house.

And if some sports are so short of money, why do they not raise sponsorship by selling athlete's undergarments? They sell footballers' and rugby players' boots after all, what's the difference? I bet a few of those get tossed off into by admiring fans anyhow. Not really into inanimate fetishes myself, I prefer my sex objects live or at least still warm, but I know many are. If ordinary women can sell their worn knickers for £50 a time, how much money could they get by auctioning off the georgeous Serena's knickers after a two hour match? Or Paula Radcliffe's after that famous comfort break? Not forgetting gays and ladies. I bet Linford Christie's tight lycra shorts with the famously stretched lunchbox area would have fetched a bob or two too.

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Work and vans

Two good things this weekend anyhow.

I have got another bit of work in from my occasional client. Might be just a few hours or maybe a few days. Not looked at what they have sent yet, but need to do an assessment this weekend. Bum, got to do quarterly accounts for my ed software company for Curriculum online too so looks like another not too relaxing weekend. Still, taking a couple of days off from Hellishly Dull Contract Limited and getting paid quite a bit more for working at home on something really interesting has given me a real boost. Pity I am so cursed with this honesty that will see me charge for exactly the time I spend to the minute. On the other hand, maybe that's why the client keep coming back. That and the fact that the software got so freakingly complicated due to hardware problems that it would take someone else a fortnight to get into it.

In all my years of contracting it's the one job I am proudest of. Not some tiny bit of a huge project, it's all mine. IT cast of ... ME. The PROBA Earth Observation Missions That's all mine that is, the image requests to the satellite, the image processing that goes into the images you can see on that and linked pages. The only down side, if they find out four years on that I fucked up somewhere, I am sure going to owe an awful lot of money to an awful lot of companies.

The other good thing. I have found myself a VAN!! I have been so utterly incomplete these last two weeks without a van, there has been a huge HOLE in my SOUL. Without a van in my life I am a pathetic shadow of a man. The new love of my life has a few minor imprefections like an ugly roof rack and a non working CD player but LOVE conquers all and we will soon overcome those problems. And she was quite a bit cheaper than I was planning on paying. Cheap. My favourite word.

Chee-eap
Say it loud and there's music playing
Say it soft and it's almost like praying
Chee-eap
I'll never stop saying 
Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeee-eap

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Sad as a proud man can be sad tonight

It had a great start, but very blue the second part of this week. Maybe the music hasn't helped.

It eases the hideousness of this contract to listen to CDs on the headphones. It certainly eases the strain on my colleagues' ears, the air was quite blue last week (funny how blue has such different meanings). My PC died this week, I think its confidence was undermined because I swore at it and told it that it was crap so many times it lost the will to live. I should feel guilty but I don't, it is part of this shit contract and therefore part of this establishment that deserves execution for the atrocity it perpetrates on my soul.

I've been listening to Mirror Blue by Richard Thompson. Not a good idea perhaps as the CD, and especially the track Bee's Wing, has memories for me. Nine years ago now. The reality of it was that we never had much in common. We had known each other for just a few months nearly 35 years earlier and I suppose for both of us it was about reliving memories of youth. So here I go again, feeling nostalgic about something that was never more than nostalgia about a brief affair that never really meant that much at the time. I am frequently that idiotic. Yet another mid-life crisis. I have had mid life crisis at regular intervals since I was thirty.

Music and memories, why are the two so linked?

Once in the pub, a folk singer triggered something and the wife was sure I was having an affair. Why else would I get so emotional over a song? In fact I wasn't, that would come later in the year, curiously with the same women whose memory, or more exactly the memory of the times for which she stood, I had become emotional about. At the time I had no inkling of it and had not seen or heard of her for that 35 years. A strange prescience.

I love the missus and she is a lovely friend and so full of great qualities. She is also so solid and sensible and is always working herself to bits, long past realizing that this bloody existence of security and duty we are trapped in is sucking everything out of us that was ever worthwhile. What ever happened to that gin-fueled nakedness on Streatham Common only yards from where the sensible people were walking their dogs? What the hell happened to us? And I still want all those old things. I still want the romance and the passion of first love, the hopeless losses, the tearful goodbyes, the joyful reunions and all those times you could just feel so overwhelmed by feeling for somebody else. And I would trade all the secure futures and the pensions and the nice house and all those other things my mind tells me I need for just one more real passion in my life.

Music and memories, music and moods.

Sometimes the need for emotional closeness makes us look for more than sensibly we know can ever be there. Sometimes we look for it and, finding none, we comfort ourselves with the illusion. Caught a part of a TV show about country and western on TV. I listened to "Help me make it through the night" A soulless rendition, Chris Chistopherson did it so much better, but there must be times when the sentiment has been real for all of us. And back to Richard Thompson, the track “Waltzing’s for dreamers"

Oh play me a blue song and fade down the light
I'm sad as a proud man can be sad tonight
Just let me dream on, oh just let me sway
While the sweet violins and the saxophones play
And Miss, you don't know me, but can't we pretend
That we care for each other, till the band reach the end

One step for aching, and two steps for breaking
Waltzing's for dreamers and losers in love
One step for sighing and two steps for crying
Waltzing's for dreamers and losers in love

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Rabbit holes

Nobody ever tells me anything. As I am a 58 yo virgin still saving myself for Miss Right I can hardly be expected to know these disgusting things. Apparently these bits that stick out of the side of rabbit vibrators are clitoral stimulators. And there was me thinking it was supposed to go up her bum. What's a clitoris???

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Saint xoggoth

Heard two unsolicited tales about marital woes so far this week and it's only Tuesday. Although I think I can be fairly sympathetic on the few occasions I am not obsessed with my own trivial problems and on the much more frequent occasions when I have surrounded too many vodkas, I don't think I am normally seen as the sort people wish to confide in. Have I suddenly got "Marge Proops" tattooed on my forehead? Must be just being in the wrong place a the wrong time.

Talking of vodka, had a whole lot too much again last night. Fortunately it was the landlord's. The only thing better than getting plastered is doing it for free. I could tell One of the inmates of Castle Dracula was already pretty plastered before I came down. He was talking complete bollox. You could see the sort of eh?? expression on everyone's face at each remark. I daresay the idiot thought he was being brilliant. Later on, he went up to bed and it was my turn to get plastered. I kept my audience spellbound with my amazingly lucid arguments, my incredible articulateness, my colossal wit and astonishing intellect. How is it I never talk complete rubbish when drunk like everyone else does?

The one lady in the house fell and broke her arm last week. She says she wasn't drunk but naturally none of us believe her. At last week's drunk session I buttered a cracker for her because she couldn't manage it. I was tempted to ask if there were any other little things she found difficult that I could help her with, I really am a saint, but was afraid my motives might be misconstrued. I do so like to help people though, so if there are any ladies out there with disabilities who have difficulties with little everyday things like removing tampons or wiping their bottoms I would really be very happy to help out. Why am I so such a lovely kind person?

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Mating animals

Whenever I see animals mating on one of those TV nature programs I am always amazed at the ease of it, especially with some animals like antelope where the male is equipped with a long and very thin and rather bouncy looking appendage. Yet they just rear up on the female once and bang, there it is, in the right hole first time, no hands, no jiggling about trying to find it. I suppose the females don't have all those interesting and very chewy flappy bits to get in the way like human women but even so, it's one of the real wonders of nature.

Or is it that, in the interests of decency and brevity, the program makers cut out the initial abortive docking attempts and the cries of the lady animals meaning "Get it out of there you dirty pervert"?

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Horror, exclusion and bad Tuesdays

I do like horror, the old style stuff. I still have all the old Pan Books of horror stories from the 60s and 70s. In those days it was mostly traditional gothic horror stories, revengeful spirits of tortured court jesters (The Hooning?), dreams of strange rooms in the tower haunted by long dead vampirous women (The Room In The Tower). I love all the old pulp horror authors too, mostly from "Wierd Tales". H P Lovecraft of course, from whence the xoggoth name is derived, Arthur Machen, William Hope Hodgeson, Clarke Ashton Smith. In films I am almost as much of a Sam Raimi fan (Evil Dead) as my Blog Guru Trin seems to be. Then there's the naturalist Gerald Durrel, who, at the end of one of his immensely entertaining books on his childhood in corfu "The picnic and suchlike pandemonium" added a story "The opening". Its presence there is so incongruous I assume it was just included to pad out the book after he had run out of reminiscenses, but in my opinion it is the most terrifying classic supernatural horror story ever written, In the tale the narrator, after reading the manuscript, covers the mirrors in his room with a towel. I'm not surprised. At the age of 40 something I did the same.

And then some time in the 80s the fashion changed. People being boiled alive for the the amusement of old women, surgeons reeking revenge by progressively removing the flesh of rivals who had caused the deaths of their women, people having to risk amputation to escape from chambers. Repulsive. Although my tongue in cheek references to politicians being slowly disembowelled or similar may suggest otherwise, I loath cruelty and violence of any kind. I have never seen horror classics like "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" or "Driller Killer" and have not the slightest wish to do so. I stopped buying the Pan books.

Then It changed again. In the late 80s and 90s horror stories were so wierd and psychological that I could not make any sense of them. Lesbian women with severe Synesthesia having strange flapping sensations as though huge birds were approaching. Visits to lonely single mothers in drab flats where retarded offspring climbed up and down chairs reciting "Up the hill and down the hill". I assume they had some deep meaning but as with all deep meanings they were probably unique to the authors.

And then more recently another change and I have started reading horror again although I am not always sure I want to. Maybe it is just more to do with the private horrors of some authors coinciding with my own particular private horrors. The concepts are not necessarily new, Dali depicted them rather well in those odd pictures of tiny figures alone on huge plains. In "The Lost District" a young man has a hauntingly strange sexual experience with a young woman but years later can find no trace of the district it occurred in. In "Off the map" another tale of a curious area in the mundane world which can never be reached.

Being outside the normal world and never being able to get back is my private horror. It's in xoggoth tales, in Lost, in Head Down and most explicitly in Naming of parts. I know that if I ever lost any of my senses or became paralysed so that I could not be fully in the real world I could never cope with the terror of it. I could never cope with much lesser problems like tinitus or minor sensory losses come to that. Just bad cattarh that has given me that muffelled feeling in my ears has put me into a constant panic. Some day I suppose, in the way of age and death, that will eventually happen and at times I awake with the terror of realisation, or less often, the realisation catches hold of me in the day. It would be nice to be totally normal.

Not that feeling at least, but this week has been a total horror. I suppose pressure at work and the utter ridiculous mind numbing grim awfulness of what I do, I have never had a contract I LOATH so much as this one. I just got wound up so tight I fell apart on Tuesday night. Thanks for phone support from the Mrs and an online friend. I will survive. I know I will, hell, I have been OFFICIALLY sane for many years now. Nobody that knows me seems to think so.

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Realism and giant crabs

I am trying to get back to writing more xoggoth tales and therefore have somewhat neglected this blog for a few days. That plus the poxy awful contract I am doing is destroying my brain and my sanity, what there ever was of it.

However, something on CUK about the recent cold weather reminded me of this particular gripe I have. Unless it is intended to be humerous, I loath totally unscientific material in films and books. No matter how gripping the storyline, basic errors in logic or facts just totally destroy it for me. When everyone else is enjoying the exciting climax I am sitting there thinking "What an utter load of codswollop". That does not mean I don't enjoy science fiction, fantasy or horror, I have no problem with Earth being invaded by Martian zombies, what I mean is errors in fundamental physical facts.

One of the worst examples of the thing I mean was made for TV thing many years ago. A group of people including that American actor who used to be that crusty old lawyer bloke in a TV law thing ('er indoors has let me down again, if she cannot instantly remember facts for my stories/blog, what use is she?) were lost in a cave. This cave included normal limestone formations like stalactites and stalagmites interspersed with sections where active magma flowed. Sounds a rather improbable geological formation but I cannot say for sure it is impossible. What really got me was the remark by one of the intrepid explorers. "Don't step in the stream, it is over 200 degrees centigrade" Whaaat??? Must have been an exceedingly deep cave.

For recent years the xoggoth award for total and utter crap has to go to the film "The Day After Tomorrow". For those not familiar with it, global warming has upset the ocean flows and the world is suddenly tipped into a new ice age. Let's be very generous and assume that could happen in a few weeks (right!), the bit that really gets me is the astonishing way this supercold defies all normal laws of heat transfer and heat capacity. The coldest ever temperature recorded on Earth was minus -115'F (and that was in the Antarctic which is much colder than the Artic but we'll let that go too). Sorry, but even a temperature difference of 215'F is not going to cause a human body to freeze to death and turn solid in 3 seconds flat. Even worse, when this frost storm hits New York we see the cold race through umpteen thousands of tons of a huge New York brownstone building so fast that the humans can only just keep ahead of it. Amazingly, it then halts at a wooden door because the people inside have a fire of paper going.

Sometimes however, stories can be so bad they are good. One that remains indelibly etched in my brain although I read it over forty years ago, was in either a Badger or a Ballentine book. Not sure if they are still going, but these publishers used to run stuff that nobody else would touch with a bargepole. Things about zombies coming out of the sea, great stuff. In the story in question a bloke had invented a rocket powered train and had set up a trial in the grounds of a large stately home. The train duly set off with a compliment of reporters on board and was living up to expections. Unfortunately a jealous rival sabotaged the event by cutting power to the magnetic system that kept the train on the tracks. Rather than continue the way it had been travelling in accord with that boring Newton's law, the train abruptly shot upwards at right angles into outer space, where in the course of a few hours it arrived at the farthest reaches of space and was swallowed by a giant crab. That was the most realistic, or at least not proveably wrong, part of the tale. The crab did not like rocket train and spat it back out whereupon it travelled back through space and landed on the tracks at the exact spot it had left, without a single casualty except for the nasty rival who had been standing there gloating. Unknown author, if you are still alive, I salute your genius. Your creation will remain with me until my dying day when works by numerous better authors have been long forgotten.

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Feeling ratty

Why do I feel so ratty all the time? I am ratty with everything, but mostly it's with people. Slow people, dithery people, people who over-complicate things. people who get in my way, people who try and control my life, people who take my money, people who waste my time with pointless beurocracy. I went looking for a new van on Saturday. Traffic jams, silly old fools on pedestrian crossings, stupid people who cannot answer a simple query as to where such and such a road is. "WHY don't you know? If I lived in this shitty little town of yours I would know, not that I'd tell you if you asked, you moron!!!

I suspect that perpetual rattiness with other people is the real root cause of many of the world's problems. Why terrorists shoot down aircraft or explode bombs. Attacks on Islam or whatever they cite as their greivance is just a part of it, a justification they keep in their own minds because of the human need to feel significant. In reality the Hilton bombing was at least as much to do with some bastard eating nearly all the cornflakes and leaving just those horrible little powdery bits you get at the bottom of the bag as it was about unjust treatment of Palestinians.

Is there an antidote? Maybe. It came to me yesterday as I came back from my run. I got ratty because I had to wait for the sodding Bluebell Railway engine to chuff its way over the crossing and then for a couple of pottery sightseers to get out of the way of the gate. A boy standing on the other side smiled and nodded, forgot his name, but one of the kids I used to take at scouts. Under one arm he had a ferret. What could be nicer than a nice kid with a nice ferret? This morning in the Metro, a picture of a baby owl, befriended by an Alsation. Aaaah! I am convinced we would not get so ratty with other people if they looked cute like kids or fluffy animals or like attractive women. If you are female or gay please insert the attractive man bit yourself, this is not an equal opportunities site. If they did look cute or adorable or sexy we would be far more likely to forgive them for their faults.

I want to try an experiment here. Please look at the following pictures and/or descriptions and then rate how ratty they make you feel on a scale of 1 to 10. You may assume that the views and the characters of these individuals remain the same. I can't be bothered to provide controls you can tick or any poll feedback, just write your answers on the back of a cheque for £10 and send to me at the usual address.

At left is a picture of the Mad Messiah AKA Tony Blair. At right is a picture of Tony Blair with a cute Budgerigar's head grafted on.



	Tony Blair as a human (sort of)		Tony Blair as a cute budgie
	Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______		Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______

At left is a picture of Abu Hamza. On the right is another picture of Abu Hamza after plastic surgey to make him look like Catherine Zeta Jones.



	Abu Hamza the ugly parasite		Abu Kamza surgically altered to resemble Catherine Zeta Jones
	Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______		Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______

No picture for this one, but if you have previously lain awake at night unable to put the sheer horror of the question "Who wipes old Hook Hand's arse for him?" out of your head, would you sleep better if he had Catherine's arse instead? Would you indeed volunteer to wipe it yourself?


	Abu Hamza's arse		Catherine's arse grafted onto Abu Hamza
	Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______		Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______

On the left is a picture of Charles Clarke. He is planning a law that allows you to be shot in the head and imprisoned without trial for 5 years for looking a bit fishy. On the left is a picture of Charles Clarke's grandaughter. She will soon be the next home secretary under the New Labour nepotism clause of the forthcoming abolition of democracy bill. She is planning a law that allows you to be shot in the head and imprIsoned without trial for 5 years for looking a bit fishy.



	Charles Clarke		Charles Clarke's granddaughter
	Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______		Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______

You are driving along and a pedestrian wanders into the road. You either have to waste time braking or get gore on your radiator and have to go to the car wash. Either way you will have been thoughtlessly inconvenienced. The pedestrian at left is an ugly old disabled person of the sort who selfishly clutter up our towns. The pedestian at right is a cute boy with a ferret.



	Horrible old disabled person		Cute boy with ferret
	Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______		Rattiness rating: 1 to 10 _______

PS Needless to say we at bloggoth would rush to wipe Catherine's arse. MY tongue is at the ready.

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The engineer's Sunday sermon

I trust that you will do me the courtesy of respecting my religion while on this site by lowering your eyes for a moment in silent contemplation while I read a brief passage from the holy scripture. Perry's Chemical Engineer's Handbook , published by McGraw Hill, NY, 3rd edition, 1957. In the holy text of chapter 12, on the subject of design of distillation columns, the Blessed Perry writes thus:

Passage downwards through the perforations on the plates increases the contact area and therefore the separation rate of vapour and liquid

I see some of you do not understand the meaning of this passage. No, I do not mean the literal meaning, it is not demanded of mortal men that they understand the design of distillation columns, that is not necessary to attain true wisdom. The understanding that the blessed Perry, the enlightened one, required of mortal men was of the essential truth that lies beneath these words. Contemplate the meaning of these words silently for a moment. Do not try too hard, for the meaning is simple and revelation will come. Contemplate this truth. Very well. The Blessed Perry was merciful and I have been placed on this Earth to guide you in the path of his wisdom. Let us note those things that it does not say.

If we only gave this liquid the same chance that other liquids in the column have it would not fall down through the column.
The only reason that the liquid falls through the perforations is because it is lazy and lacks discipline. Other liquids in the column, by sheer diligence and hard work, have managed to pull themselves up the column rather than falling down through it.
If we can only educate them properly, the vapour and liquid would not separate at all but would remain on the plate in harmony and mutual respect.
If the liquid falls through the perforations it is quite plain that it is some other fluid's fault.
It is a basic human right of liquid not to fall downwards through the column and we should work towards fulfilling this right.
What the liquid needs is true fluids of vision to improve its lot.

Pour the liquid in at the top, push the vapour in at the bottom, and a certain separation is acheived with a given set of conditions. There are many different designs just as there are many models of society but any efficient distillation column works by using the basic laws of physics and thermodynamics. There are no ifs, no if onlys, no buts, no perhapses, no maybes, no could bes, no theoretical rights, no blaming, no scapegoats, no villians, no heros, no messiahs.

So should it be with human societies, follow and work with the basic rules of human nature.

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Forthcoming threads

I am a sorry to say that the last few items have dropped even below my very low standards of wholesomeness. The next item on bloggoth will by contrast be very unlifting and spiritual. There will be no references whatever to sex or bodily functions, or, as you may have noticed in my case, usually both together.

Sexual attraction and lies

It's been the subject of sitcoms at least since the great Tony Hancock did it in the 60s. The plain pair who had submitted false pictures of their much more attractive mates turned up for a date arranged by an agency and failed to recognise each other. While hanging around on the station waiting for the other they get talking and find they have a lot in common. Happy ending. Nice that. The flaw in the plot is that even after 10 minutes casual opening conversation, "What do you do for a living? etc" they would surely have recognised the details of their arranged dates. Unless that was all false too. A few flaws in plots never matter, even in some of my generally brief xoggoth tales I have seen numerous holes when re-reading them, but who cares?? Most people don't notice.

It does nicely illustrate that sexual attraction is not just about physical appearance. On every level it isn't. Yeh, who does not love the idea of being seen around with some Catherine-Zeta-Jones or Brad Pitt type? But would they necessarily turn you on? Mostly they have been fairly average, but I have had dates with a very few really fantastic looking women. In my first year at Uni, I dated the first and second placed females in the annual beauty contest. (I doubt they still have those sexist things - ah for those politically incorrect days). Number one I did not get on with at all, one date at a Chinese Restaurant was more than enough. Number two I dated for a few weeks and in theory she was everything I liked in a women physically, a gorgeous buxom natural blonde. But kissing her always seemed to be like sticking your tongue into a rubber hoop with a faint taste of cabbage.

In those days the chasest kiss with a woman was usually enough to bring on a raging stiffie. Not in her case, my willie steadfastly refused to show the slightest interest. Apart from a very brief manual incursion into her enormous bra just to make sure (nope, nothing) I never touched her. Happened a few times since. Some I really liked and I enjoyed their company but they were lovely chaste dates because I never tried to get them into bed as I knew darn well I would be a total FLOP. While his disinterest is fortunately (so far - I hate getting old) rarely that total, his enthusiasm is variable. No I don't prefer ugly women. It's just that me and him down there have entirely different tastes and while my own are consistent I have no earthly understanding of what makes him tick. The women he likes seem to fit no discernable pattern as far as I can see, they can be good looking, plain, fat, skinny, likeable, really dull - he makes his decisions almost instantly and will not be persauded.

I do wonder about that lying thing though. Lying has so many levels and sometimes we are not really sure of own motives anyhow. We can be dishonest without intending to. What if you met someone on the net and had got to know them really well? What if you had lots in common? What if you loved their personality and on the basis of all the online discussions a genuine mutual fondness had developed? Then comes the day you arrange to meet. You are expecting to meet a tall willowy twenty something blonde lady. You turn up to find a little elderly fat black bloke with a moustache. He had been expecting to meet a gorgeously buxom fortiesh Trinidadian lady and meets a scruffy shifty-looking late middle aged white bloke.

But, in your numerous emails and texts, you have assured each other that your relationship is not just about sex, it is one of genuine and mutual admiration and affection. Only one thing for it in that case, since your weren't lying were you? Come on then Leroy, who's turn first? I do love your poetry by the way.

PS There's a huge plot flaw in that one too. I will let you work it out for yourself.

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DNA testing and hotel towels

I see in the DT that DNA testing laboratories are increasingly being used by private companies to track down practical jokers and miscreants on their staff. Use of testing was threatened in a one case where somebody stuck chewing gum on the chair of one of the directors. Needless to say, I particularly liked the case where a laboratory was asked to solve the mystery of who had been regularly urinating in the staff kettle, and another where somebody had been leaving what the DT describes as "less savoury deposits" in the company's locker room.

On such less savoury subjects, I do deplore the general tendency of hotels to always provide such pristine white towels. It does not matter how carefully I wash myself in the shower, whenever I dry my bum on these dazzling things, there always seems to be a slight skidmark. So then I have to rinse it out and the towel ends up all sopping wet. Why the hell can't they provide brown towels? it would be a lot simpler. These white towels might be ok for women, their holes are generally smaller and tighter as they have not spent much of their time since puberty sticking various items of furniture up them like us males. What?? Oh, ok, it's just me that does that then.

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Free porn

It may seem like a silly question, but why is there so little free porn on the net? A few sample images and then you are supposed to sign up with a credit card. Come to that, why are no free adult contact sites?

What? why should companies be providing porn or contacts for free?? No, not companies, but individuals. Since there is such a huge demand why do we not cut out the middle men? I envisage a sort of Ebay where people could swap their own porn. Adverts, probably with a reduced image, could state what sort of pictures they had and what they wanted in exchange. The contacts pages would operate similarly. Given the huge volume of traffic, the site administration costs could easily be covered by advertising.

Why is there no such thing at present? I can't believe nobody has thought of it. (And if somebody has, a URL would be appreciated). I rather suspect that there are too many vested interests in the current set up. If somebody started such a site would they get a 2am call by a couple of burly Albanians?

Of course, if nobody has thought of it, maybe this is my chance to kick off this worthy social service. Pictures of ladies exercising their Rabbits would be most welcome at Bloggoth. In return I can offer a lovely series of pics of me shoving various items of office equipment up my wrinkly old bum. The one with the hole punch is especially erotic.

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Women's place

It has come to our notice that certain women have been flirting with other males on this blog. This is not fitting. Will all women please don the clothing provided at left and keep their eyes modestly cast downwards at all times while on this site. Above all, keep your mind fixed on the glory that is xoggoth

Update There is still unseemly flirting going on. Clearly there was too much immodest female flesh exposed by what I had thought was a very proper Muslim dress, so I have added a gas mask, gardening gloves and stout welly boots. Don't force me to the next stage.

Ok! That's it!!!

Get this new costume on, RIGHT NOW you harlot!!!

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Here we go again

In the papers today, some politically correct register offices are removing obviously heterosexual pictures of happy couples and replacing them with landscapes to avoid offending homosexuals when the new laws come into effect. I am very much in favour of the new law, in a free society, peoples' sexuality is entirely their own business and why should gay couples not celebrate their union? I have a secret (whoops) hankering for a big one up the arse anyway.

What I object to is this ridiculous assumption by the politically correct that different lifestyles are automatically mutually exclusive. I bet if you did a survey of gay blokes you would find scarcely any that were offended by pictures of Romeo And Juliet. True, during their own ceremony, they might like to see their own preferences represented but would it be SO HARD to just stick a different picture on the wall according to the ceremony being conducted or to simply have a representative selection???

Everthing these politically correct arseholes in local goverenment do seems designed to stir up animosity between different groups. It has been the same with several previous stories about banning Christmas or removing pictures of pigs to avoid offending Muslims. The Muslim Council Of Britain has pointed out that most Muslims are not offended by such things but by then the damage has been done.

On a national scale, these politically correct arseholes do more damage to community relations than any number of queer bashers or the BNP could ever manage.

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Suicide and vultures

Why do we say to people who are depressed and possibly suicidal?" You won't do anything silly will you?"

SILLY??? SILLY??? What an odd word to use in the tragic context. So you come home and find your beloved dead on the floor next to a bottle of sleeping pills, dressed in a batman costume with hair covered in tomato sauce and a lobster in each ear. Oh no! no! You went and did SOMETHING SILLY!!!! You must share it, so you pop round to the neighbours, come and look at Doreen, she's done something really SILLY, you'll piss yourselves!

And if they mean something to us we will inevitably add, in these exact words, "I don't think I could bear it if you did something silly" You don't think??? Look Mrs xoggoth, and all you dozens of other equally besotted women out there, if I kick the bucket, whether by doing something silly or otherwise, I want you to be utterly devastated for the rest of your lives. Nothing less will do. At the crematorium it will be appropriate to scream "no, no I want to die with my beloved" and throw yourself on my coffin as it goes through the door. I expect they will have to cremate my remains in several stages to give a chance to all the many women wanting to immolate themselves.

I believe that high born Indan women used to do that, it was called Suttee. That Thuggee was good too. Why do we have to put up with all the boring customs of immigrants like Halal meat, gaudy temples that look like large cheap Christmas decorations and utterly tuneless steel bands but they never bring their better customs to Britain? Why can't we have loads of cheap prossies in every bar as in parts of the far east or holy men next to the Thames feeding corpses to the vultures? (It would have to be pidgeons obviously but even Ken Livingstone would have to pretend to approve if it was an ethnic custom). Firing the odd rocket grenade at 10 Downing Street in Afghanistan/Iraq style would not go amiss either.

What about some of those African tribal customs? I forget the details, but they involve shagging recent widows or something to propitiate evil spirits. The zulus inspect young girls at monthly intervals to ensure they are still virgins. I could do that. These customs should be adopted immediately by the white British in the interests of racial unity.

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The gobswoman of undeserved human rights

I see that that ghastly Mrs Cherie-My-Mouth-Offends-against-the-laws-of-Time-and-Space Blair has been telling the press that she would have ended up working in a shop if the state had not paid for her university fees. The president of the NUS said "How many potentially brilliant human rights lawyers will never enjoy a succesful career like Cherie Blair's as a result of this govenment's policies?" ALL OF THEM, hopefully. Who wants more human rights lawyers like Cherie Blair?

The "like Cherie Blair" is significant here. I am not against human rights, particularly when that means protection of the individual from excessive state power. What I do object to is the tendency she and so many others seem to have, to concentrate so much on people's rights without ever apparently expecting them to perform any duties or undertake any obligations in return. I have no objection, within reasonable bounds set by the need not to demotivate the able, to a society where some of the wealth is shared with those of limited ability who are prepared to put in reasonable effort. But it seems that these "rights" are too frequently conferred at the expense of the rest of us without asking often enough, "what has this person ever done for our society in return or could he/she be doing rather more to help themselves?"

I think this site puts it a lot better better than I can.

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Fatwah

We are constantly informed that the Ghastly Mad Messiah (AKA Tony Blair) is irritated by the tendency of the judiciary to thwart his plans to defeat terrorism, the threat from which is so much higher because of his unbalanced decision to go to war in Iraq. But hang on a minute, Who was it who adopted the vaguely drafted European Human Rights laws in their entirety simply because he wanted to demonstrate his European credentials?

Feck the needs of the British people to protect against terrorism, I Tony Blair, want to feel like a European statesman and I, Tony Blair, want to be flattered by being a valued ally of the US regardless of the merits of the issue and I, Tony Blair want the thrill of playing the statemen by getting involved in wars which have nothing to to do with the security or the long term interests of the British people.

Tony the Tiger Blair, Because I'iiiiiiim GREAT

I am so pissed off I have decided to issue a xoggoth Fatwah, known as a Fatbumwah, against the repulsive lying turd. Anyone assassinating the Mad Messiah or Brownstuff or indeed any of the cabinet with the exceptions of Charles Clarke, who is still in my good books, and Margaret Becket because she is so GEORGEOUS (I will have to go off and touch myself soon at the very thought of her) may be assured of a place in xoggoth heaven.

Due to a lack of resources because 'er indoors does not give me enough pocket money and I spend it all on massage parlours, it may be that if the Mad Messiah is assassinated, it will be more likely that Islamic extremists will have got to him first. In that event guys, I will take back any nasty comments I may have made about you. You're all right!

Send me some pictures of his horrible insincere grinning lying teeth being blown out and we at bloggoth will convert to Islam.

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Pensions and chimneys

Another thing this government constantly harps on about, without ever mentioning that they mostly created the problem, is the so-called pensions crisis. Not just Fat lying Scottish Bastard Brownstuff's grabbing 5 billion a year from our pensions, but also his tax and spend assault on business profits and investement as highlighted by the CBI this week and the government's abject cowardice in failing to halt the civil service pension gravy train.

Increasing the age at which people start paid work hardly helps either, but this government seems obsessed with encouraging everyone to go to university even when the individual and the course they are studying have no potential whatever in terms of improving their career prospects. If they started stacking those shelves three years earlier they could save that much more for their pensions. We would do well to take a leaf from the Victorian's book and get common people into work at seven or earlier. No reason why children should not go up chimneys as they used to.

Send children up chimneys in this day and age??? No, thinking about it a bit more, I can see it's a stupid idea. I'm sorry, I retract that suggestion unreservedly.

The repulsive cheeburger-chewing fat little bastards would never fit!

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I must have forgotten to lock it

We have all heard of dogging but is there another as yet unreported craze sweeping the country? Four times so far this year I have walked in on people sitting on the loo in public toilets, the last time at work just a few weeks back, because they had "forgotten" to lock the door.

Can't say I have kept track, but I'm fairly sure that most previous years have gone by without that happening at all. Are these people getting a secret thrill from the idea that somebody might walk in while they exercise their natural functions?

One of them was a very nice young lady*. It made my day. Actually it made my week! With women one can never quite tell which particular function they are performing, I can only say that, instead of saying "Oh I'm terribly sorry" as one does in these circumstances, I wish I had had the guts to request a much CLOSER look. Woooo stop there xoggoth!.

*Note: No I was NOT hanging about in the lady's lavatories, it was an A road service station that had only one functioning toilet.

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Hello big boy

Not me obviously, I am lunchboxically challenged. As I always say, it's where you put it that counts! Small fish in small ponds! I have become fascinated by this whole world of online sex contacts. As I reported yesterday, I could not resist signing up for an adult contact site to see if maybe, there was some "life" to be had in Derby. Although I had not put any personal details on the site, today I had an email about a lady who is supposedly interested in meeting me. Apart from being sexually voracious, she seem to have very wide tastes that correspond rather too well, girl on girl etc., with the normal male fantasies.

Hmm! I rather have my doubts as to whether this lady really exists or, if she does she will turn out to be free. As it will cost me £20 to find out and she supposedly lives quite a way away anyhow, I think I may pass on this exciting opportunity.

I have a horrible feeling that in signing up all I have done is to open up a whole new world of junk emails from the sex industry. Better than sodding cheap watches anyway!

Update Somehow after I changed my email address on that site I could not log in again, so signed up anew. Next day, surprise, surprise, that same lady wanted to meet me. I suspect that every bloke who signs up gets a message from that same lady. I wonder how many are stupid enough to pay to meet her. Quite a few probably.

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A correct and talentless society

In the DT today, another example of the way that a combination of political correctness, excessive concern with safety and discrimination against excellence is reducing the quality of Britain.

We no longer have any home grown talent for the ballet. One of the problems is that teachers are no longer allowed to touch pupils for fear of accusations of sexual harrassment and in ballet teaching it is sometimes essential to hold or guide pupil's bodies. It is just the same at the wife's school. Even female teachers are not allowed to comfort a distraught child with a simple hug or an arm round the shoulder.

Parents are not even allowed to video their own children's sports days for fear that they will be used by paedophiles. I could be wrong, but I would have thought that videos of kids running sack races must be about as exciting to paedophiles as videos of women shopping at Tescos would be to normal men.

I will probably be in a minority of one here, but even if some bloke is secretly jacking off over a video of little Johny winning the triple jump, since no child has been exploited or put at risk, what does it really matter? Is it really worth depriving parents of the simple natural pleasure of being able to relive their children's lives and acheivements?

For centuries we ignored the problems of child abuse and pretended it did not exist. Now we have discovered it, we see it around every corner. Sometimes I depair of our society, there is never any balance, all we ever get is oscillation between one wild extreme and the other.

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Goddamit!!

Just out of curiousity and for social research of course, I singed up for one of those adult contact things. Type in Derby. 0 results. Tried another. Derby. 0 results. Nobody does anything interesting in Derby!!!

Only one thing for it.

Bloke, 58, reasonably slim and fit for age, ok looks, still has some hair, ridiculous obsessions with vans, pigs and huge bottoms, WLTM ABSOLUTELY ANYONE AT ALL in Derby who fancies a shag!!!! Possession of most limbs and a head an advantage but not essential (Weekdays only)

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Bastards again, infidelity and little kids

Bastards!!! Why is it all this government can ever do in the face of every problem is to introduce more monitoring and targets, they never address the root causes, and much of the time, don't devote extra resources. Always plenty of cash to pay for more layers of management, more feather-bedded retire-on-index-linked-pay-at-55 USELESS FECKING PUBLIC SECTOR WHITE COLLAR PARASITES to leech off the rest of us.

This is our third shitty weekend running. Three weeks back it was mainly me trying to catch up with business things, a lot of it was unecessary poxy government red tape. The last two weeks the wife has been in a panic about the OFSTED inspection to her school. Yesterday she was there much of the day, came home about 8pm and promptly fell asleep. Another great Saturday night. I daresay she will "just pop in for an hour to do a few things" today and spend most of the day there.

Or maybe she's bonking somebody else? Hmmm. School inspection results all go on the OFSTED site you know dear. Let's see, oh that's funny, no record of an inspection at xxx Primary School here, most odd! I do wonder how many infidelities get caught out by stupid mistakes. What, for example, if one meant to send a dirty text message to somebody you were due to have a naughty night with but accidentally sent the message to your wife instead. All it would take is a slight inadvertent nudge up or down on your phone contacts list. "Why have you sent me this message about meeting at Leeds station?, I don't remember we were planning anything in Leeds, and what see-through red lace nighty? I've only got a blue one" I admit I do sometimes embelish tales SLIGHTLY, but the following is completely true. A bloke at the wife's school started having these severe chest pains and they sent him into a panic attack. He was convinced he was about to die and decided to clear his conscience by telling his wife about an affair he had been having. It turned out he just had a gastric problem and there was nothing wrong with his ticker at all. Whoops!

So anyway, another shitty weekend. With 'er indoors working I decided to go swimming again this morning. Always nice Sunday morning, not too many people in the main pool. Lots in the kids' pool. I used to take mine there when they were little, really happy days. Being totally purile I have always got on well with little kids, other people's as well as my own, I had a rich imagination for stupid little games and they all thought I was great. Unfortunately they started to rumbled me when they were about eight, that's when they started being better than me at football. Your dad's really crap at football, he always boots the ball miles over the goal and we spend ages trying to find it! Anyway, I felt really jealous of all these parents with little kids. Getting dressed afterwards I overheard one little girl going "Muuum! I want my Winnie the Poooooh Towel" I had a strong urge to burst out of the cubicle and go "Muuum! I want a Winnie the Poooooh Towel Tooooo" but decided I had better not.

PS. Isn't technology wonderful? Now I have a camera phone, I don't need to take my old mirror on a stick to the swimming pool.

PPS. Police. No, that was only a joke, honest.

PPPS. Knowing my luck it would probably be some fat ugly old bloke in the next cubicle anyhow.

PPPPS. Not that I am all that fussy these days.

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Could this be the new love of my life???

Countdown to Thursday and my beloved van's MOT expires. Clutch is going anyway and it's not worth repairing. What will I do without a van in my life????

Been looking around today and saw this. Go and have a look later. She looks gorgeous!!! Not yellow unfortunately but look at those trim lines, that firm rust-free body. Have I fallen in love again? Us men are so fickle. How much do these Eastern European brides cost? If I can get one for about £3k, I might send the missus to the scrapyard.

Oh BUM!!! just phoned and although their car sales site is open today, their van sales site isnt!!! Aaaaagh!!!!

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The right price

Having a conversation on Friday and subject of prostitutes came up. Somebody reckoned, and I have heard it so many times before, "I wouldn't pay for it".

Of course not. No bloke would ever pay for it. I am amazed, considering the fact that there is not a single bloke in the whole damn land who would ever dream of paying for sex that there appears to be such an enormous sex industry. What on earth are all these ladies/blokes/between/rebored people in the sex industry doing? They must be giving it away free out of pure love of humanity. Or maybe it is all some sort of registered charity to give sheltered employment to Albanians.

Some males really are a bunch of bloody hypocrites. Would they accept sex from a rather nice female stranger if it was offered free of charge? I daresay most would. So, would they accept it if the lady said she just needed a fiver for the taxi fare home afterwards? I am betting that most who said yes the first time would go along with that. The principle is established, they would pay for it. What they really mean, the CHEAPSKATES, is that they are just too bloody mean to pay a reasonable price for it!

Another male vanity. "I would never go with an ugly woman" Come on! Leaving aside the obvious fact that sexual attraction is not necessarily about beauty and some plain women are really sexy, it is obviously true that women all have the same nice functioning bits. Any male, assuming he has any sort of sex drive, will shag anything. What they really mean is, yes they would, provided their mates don't find out about it.

Since they appear to be getting into everything else these days, legal documents, insurance, investments, banking, etc. I think it is high time that the big supermarket chains started up a few knocking shops. Half the staff of supermarkets seem to be Eastern Europeans these days anyway and they are good at that sort of thing. "Treszka, when you've finished packing those shelves, can you pop into the back office and take a customer's order, he wants 3 pounds of bananas and a golden shower"

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Mooning

I see that the head of the Moonies, the Rev Sun Myung Moon has been allowed into the country for the first time since he was banned ten years ago. The DT has a picture of a mass wedding in Korea this summer when more than 4,600 couples were married. Not sure I understand the religion but is each of these grooms allowed to shag any of the 4,600 brides? If so, where do I sign?

One thing that is evident from the picture, although they obviously attempted to disguise this by putting one of the few good looking young men in Korea closest to the camera, is how attractive oriental women are and how astonishingly ugly all the blokes are. They all have hideous squints and goldfish bowl glasses.

I found it was the other way round when I went to Greece, Most Greek women looked like Stalin but with thicker moustaches, while the men, at least until they transformed into Jabba The Hut at 45, were generally pretty handsome. No wonder the Greeks were credited with inventing homosexuality.

Sure if they put Japanese women with Greek men they could come up with a halfway decent looking race. Not sure about Japanese men and Greek women, I suspect that's where HG Wells got his inspiration for the Morlocks from.

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Women on trains, social functions and stroppy crabs

Travelling home yesterday and there were two females sitting opposite me; from the conversation both friends and colleagues. One started to nod off, so she just put her head on the other's shoulder and dozed. That's nice. Generally, only women seem to have this sort of intimacy and closeness with friends. Straight males have friends but it generally seems to be a sort of hands off, football, boozer, pursuit of women sort of friendship. I don't think we often find male friends we can really confide in. As for putting one's head on another bloke's shoulder if you're feeling tired, only QUEEAZ do that sort of thing.

I think, measured by that feeling of closeness, I have only ever had two male friends. One was no intellectual but shared my utterly stupid humour and love of nature and most of all, my complete peurility. We would wander along the seashore north of Bondi looking in rock pools and chasing crabs like a couple of 7 year olds. Incidentally the crabs there are fearsome, quite large but especially incredibly stroppy. Faced with a huge thing thousands of times their size they rear up like boxers, you can just hear them, "Come on, come on, I'm ready for yer!"

With the other I used to have these very long and often incredibly intellectual (or so we thought) discussions about all sorts of things. We got onto DH Lawrence one day and he remarked that when there was a real intellectual bond between people a physical one often followed. Not sure if it was a hint, but certainly that fireside scene in Sons and Lovers was in my mind. I was very homophobic and replied frostily that I didn't like the subject. Looking back, I just think what a bloody waste of what might have been a great experience. I can just see it now, on my death bed in the old folks home, I will probably have to bribe a care worker to turn me over and give me one up my wrinkled old bum just to find out what I've been missing.

I do love the company of women when there's an intimacy there, beyond just the sexual I mean, but otherwise I do not have very great social needs. Nice to have company for a while but after a couple of hours I find myself looking surrepticiously at my watch. I only manage to survive these all day family things with the help of a few vodkas and the, with my own family, injection of some very welcome insanity from my zany nephews.

And then everywhere you go there is all this huggy kissy stuff. Why the hell is one expected to exchange hugs and kisses with people you rarely see or sometimes have never met before?, relatives of friends or friends of relatives. And no, it is not more enjoyable hugging attractive young women, if I can't have a rummage in their drawers while hugging, and I gather that is not done, there is no point in it. It's like those impersonal encounters in lap dancing clubs. I fail to see why anyone would want to go to one of those more than once. Not just devoid of affection but devoid of any physical contact. At least in a massage parlour one gets one out of two.

Fortunately most now accept my "leave me alone, I dont wan't to be hugged or kissed" stance. The only exception I usually make is my sister in law who insists on clasping me because she knows I hate it and she is an EVIL little person. Actually, with her I do rather enjoy it because it's become a tradition and I really like her anyway. I had better not let on I have started to enjoy it or she'll stop doing it. Another exception I made recently was with my brother. Naturally, we both made a big joke of it in the proper manly BRITISH way, but the reality is that he lives abroad and we are neither of us too young. Will I see him again? Perhaps sometimes these things do mean something.

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Bonfire night

Nearly the 5th again. Remember, remember the 5th of November. How could we forget? But why do we remember this event that, as historical events go, was hardly all that important? Why do we hate poor old Guy Fawkes so much that we still burn him in effigy? Because he tried to blow up parliament and the ruling class of the time? No, I don't think so, I think the real reason is:

BECAUSE THE USELESS BASTARD FAILED!

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Landlords and religion

I have a landlord, a really nice chap and quite funny, but very obsessive about tidiness. I don't think the house has had a lick of paint or any repairs or replacements since 1980 and it isn't very clean but it is intensely tidy. My irritation at being followed around the kitchen, "make sure you close the bin, it attracts flies", "makes sure you close the front of the grill after using it", "don't use that cloth for worksurfaces use this (equally old and grubby) one, that one's for the cooker top" A few weeks back I had had enough and totally blew my top. We are neither of us the sort to hold grudges and it soon blew over.

We have had another week of assaults by bloody minorities on our society, our freedoms and our values. Another story about a council renaming Christmas lights as winter lights and employees at the Inland Revenue being prevented from collecting for a Christian charity to avoid offending the little dears. Riots in Denmark just because somebody dared to draw cartoons of Muhammed. With the usual death threats, that hardly needs saying when Islam is involved. The Post Office is in trouble just because it ran a series of stamps based on old pictures, one of which may have shown Hindus worshipping Christ. We are used to it from Muslims but now Hindus? Even the generally respected Sihks were at it earlier in the year over that play.

I don't think anyone should deliberately set out to offend someone's religion but these things are either about people just peacefully following their own traditions and practices, or are within the parameters of normal comment. We are supposed to have freedom of expression. Is it so unreasonable to think that immigrants should broadly accept the values of the society they voluntarily come to rather than expecting it to adapt to theirs?

There is nothing wrong with them protesting, in a free society there is no reason why any individual or group should not make representations or carry out peaceful protest. After all, the Christian Church sometimes objects to things it considers blasphemous. One difference is that Christians do not make death threats. The other is that the Christian church does not continually play the minority/race card and invoke all the double standards that rule the guilt-ridden politically correct ARSEHOLES who seem to govern our society. Cannot offend minorities can we?, but, well, the traditions and practices of the white majority count for nothing do they? they are RACIST to want their own culture after all! Hey ARSEHOLES! try a dictionary, not being racist means treating everyone the same! what you have there ARSEHOLES is not anti-racism but inverted racism.

What does this have to do with my landlord? The sheer triviality of the things complained about! If somebody was going around saying Allah was a murderer (which they didn't) or that rape was a normal thing in Sihk temples (which they didn't) or that all Hindus or some major figures in Hinduism worshipped Jesus (which they didn't) I could at least partly understand the scale of the reaction. What I do say is grow up! If your god is real then I am sure he will take care of the unbelievers and blasphemers in his own good time.

As for Islam, it's a threat to our free society. No need to take my word for it and have the common sense to be able to tell sheer predudice from fact. Ignore all the ridiculous right wing and clearly racist crap and just check out the more impartial and factual websites and the Islamic websites. See how many of the latter there are calling for Islamic states in the West. Check what freedom in an Islamic state really means (there are 52 of them) especially for atheists and free thinkers. Check what legal freedoms there are even in "moderate" Islamic states like Malyasia or Indonesia. Check what barbaric practises go on in immoderate states like Iran. Check how many killings there are all around the world in the name of Islam. Check what Islam means for animal welfare and for the rights of women. Check all those quotations that those who state Islam is a religion of freedom and tolerance give us, but put them in the full context of the whole passage that contains them. Check how many people have been threatened with execution or actually executed for criticising Islam, including on internet sites. Now check the population trends in the UK.

Check also what following Islam means in terms of the excessive prescription of every aspect of the lives of its adherents. Just take food. You can eat fowl provided it flaps more than it glides. If it glides more than it flaps you can't. You must not eat bird excrement. Really? Thanks for telling me that, I was just about to tuck into a nice meal of birdshit. Well, I know I can't eat pig. Fair enough. Ah, but I can't eat a sheep if it was reared on pig's milk either. Must avoid Sainsburies' special Pig Reared Lamb Cuts then. One couple is suing a fast food outlet because the food they quite inadvertently ate contained some bacon. They are claiming compensation because they have to go to Mecca to expiate this sin or they won't get to heaven (although other Muslim scholars have said that prayers are quite enough). Eh?? Whether a pigrimage or prayers, what sort of god is it that condemns souls to a life outside paradise for some minor food transgression they INADVERTENTLY committed??

I think I know. In the unlikely event I ever convert to such an intolerant, backward, killjoy, repressive and anti-logical religion as Islam, I think I would dread getting to heaven. I know full when that when I met Allah he would tell me to make sure I closed the grill door after using it.

PS. Islamic extremists. You can issue a Fatwah on xoggoth now. You will entirely prove my point

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Don't give me reality I can't handle it

Maybe it's because I am an engineer. I don't just mean that I have an engineering degree, I means I was BORN an engineer. From as far back as I remember, I thought like an engineer and I applied the principles of engineering to everything. Engineering is not a career, it is both a nature and a philosophy.

What is the engineering philosophy? In a nutshell:

Nothing matters but results

But we seem to live in an alien world where reality counts for nothing. If anyone ever actually read this blog, I daresay sooner or later somebody would read the above comments on the threat from Islam and say, this is not representative of Muslims, I know xxx Muslims and they are lovely people. Of course they are. I can't say I've ever known any well but have worked with a few, including a couple of very strict Muslims and they have seemed as pleasant as anyone else. Anyone who attempts to demonise any part of humanity is either a fool or has a hidden agenda. Recognising the general similarity of people has nothing to do with political correctness, it's just common observation and history.

It also has absolutely nothing whatever to do with the threat to our free and secular society represented by Islam. I daresay, if one got to know them, the vast majority of the population of Iran would be pretty decent and much like ourselves too, but the country still has a strict Islamic state where utterly barbaric practices like amputation are carried out. Come to that, the same obervation about humanity suggests that most Nazis must have been much like us and basically pretty decent, but the Holocaust still happened didn't it?

From time to time in history, Ideologies have a way of taking hold in sections of the human populace. This is never by accident. The process is driven by the extremists and the extremists exploit all the greivances, real or imagined, of the majority. If the greivances are not sufficient, then the extremists will do their best to exaggerate or even create them. All that is necessary for them to win is for those who oppose their ideology to do nothing, either out of cowardice, or out of some wishy washy political correctness, or out the guilt ridden inverted racism that masquerades as racial tolerance in the West. Tolerance of those who merely wish to be allowed to follow their own path in life is a fine thing. Tolerance of what threatens our own way of life and our beliefs is either stupidity or cowardice.

Numbers matter. If we ever get an Islamic state in the UK, in the end, it will be the tacit support of all those very nice people who will make it possible.

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Novelty and familiarity

Bloke sitting near me in office make a moderately funny remark about a thing on his desk. Over course of the morning he loudly made the same funny remark about 8 times to various different people. Yeh, why waste a good funny remark?

I have used various things on this Blog that I have previously posted on CUK, at least my brilliance does not sink without trace in a day here, but generally, I have this obsession to be original. I realise this may not be possible and I so I also have this terrible fear that one day I will run out of anything at all to say. I will sit in a corner just repeating empty, empty, empty over and over and they will cart me off to some oubliette reserved for catatonics.

Actually, that is not entirely true. In a familiar relationship, little repeated rituals are a very comforting thing. A typical casual conversation with the Mrs.

Do you want a?
Do I want a what?
Tell me if you want one first and I'll tell you.
No.
Oh all right, do you want a cup of coffee?
Yes, please.
So we'll have our coffee first and a quick one up the bum afterwards then eh?
No, I don't think so.
I'm sure I heard you promise me one if I made you a cup of coffee.
No I didn't

This conversation or something very like it has been repeated about 15 times a day for the last 25 years. One day.

Also I do not want anyone nicking my sayings. If I hear anybody describing a woman's bottom as being able to sink the Titanic, I will sue for breech of copyright, I am very proud of that one.

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Depression and shopping trollies

Actually I am feeling depressed today and gloomy about everything. I am not sleeping. I think it is trepidation at the prospect of an appalling event that is looming. My van has to go to the scrapyard next week. I love my van and in its big manly vanny way I know it loves me back. I just know I will be consumed with guilt at my betrayal. But it's even worse than that! So far I cannot find a replacement. I don't believe I have gone more than a few weeks without a Van in my life since I was 20. How ever will I cope????

Saw a neat combi the other day but it had side windows. I hate the idea of people being able to look into my van!! Sod off nosy sods!! Sod off! Not into self analysis but I did briefly think this was a parallel of my mind. If people could look in, how would I be able to leave it in such a total mess? There is also another way a van suits my mindset more than a car. I like them as I like my women. Loads of room in the back where you can shove things in. Bloke asked why I didn't just get a hatchback or an estate?? No way - real men drive vans. Estates are a horrible halfway house between poofy cars and vans - they are the post-op trannies of the auto world.

Talking of rears of wheeled things, the only bit of supermarket shopping with the missus that I like, taking the trolley back, those stacking ones where you push your trolley into the rear of the other one. I do love doing that. I have no idea why.

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A promise is a promise

My Blog Guru Trin mentioned on her blog that she had mucky pic involving gas masks. Foolishly I posted that I would put it on my blog if she sent to to me. Dear me!!!! What a thoroughly unsavoury lady she is. Delightful, I do like unsavoury ladies . Still, a promise is a promise so there it is at right. I didn't say anything about size though, did I?

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An end to workplace harrasment

Walking to the water machine, I passed a very nice female I had never seen before with very major frontal endowments in an orange jumper. Another chap hissed "hey x" sotte voce and gave me one of those "cor, clock that" eye rolls. Disgusting. Those who read this very politically correct blog will know that I do so hate it when women are treated as sex objects like that!

But I do believe in people making free choices and it occurs to me that there are much better ways of protecting people from harassment in the workplace than expensive disciplinary procedures and courts. Just get them to fill in forms stating what treatment they would prefer. Women prepared to be oggled or groped could voluntarily choose to do so. In return, because they would greatly improve workplace moral, they would expect to get higher pay. I see women being able to state their preferences from a full range. Women only prepared to be leared at would get a christmas hamper, those up for a bit of bottom groping by the printer could get perhaps an extra 10%, while those happy to be shagged behind the filing cabinets would get bonuses ranging up to 100% of salary or perhaps beyond. All this would be covered in the annual performance reviews.

Women would indicate their preferences with a colour coded badge. Naturally women may have more specific tastes, they may be happy to be fondled by that nice young clerk but not by that ugly old Jenkins from accounts with bad breath. Men would therefore be assigned strict instructions indicating which individual women they were personally allowed to approach sexually at work and what they were allowed to do. Because my system would be so transparent and clear, any unwanted attentions would bring instant dismissal. There would be none of this "I thought she was up for it" nonsense.

This system would totally break down the traditional and pointless division between respectable careers and the sex industry, wiping out a major source of criminal activity overnight. The two strands could now be combined and I see universities offering courses in Accountancy with Advance Fellatio or Management Studies With Bukkaki.

Straight men, gays or lesbians would make similar choices. Many forms of harrassment apart from sexual could be treated similarly. Good but bullying managers could be assigned one or more paid voluntary scapegoats that they would be able to shout at and blame for everything.

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Escapes and IR35

A chap at work who seemed perfectly fine in the morning phoned after lunch to say he had been taken ill and another colleague was taking him home. Day two and nobody has seen hide nor hair of either of them since. Much jokey speculation. Nudge nudge wink wink. What dirty minds people have. What would it matter anyhow? If they would pay my travel expenses and make up my pay I would happily spend my day being rogered by an entire division of the Coldstream Gaurds rather than spend my time in this place.

Oh dear, I seem to have missed another project meeting. What a shame. Attitude should be a major factor in IR35. Yes, I did work on client site for six months doing similar work to employees but I never actually gave a shit whether the project went down the drain or not. I am clearly a genuine contractor. Home Top

Jogging bottoms -update

Had a look through my junk mailbox but could not find anything promising a huge lunchbox by Thursday and have therefore chickened out and bought myself some tracksuit bottoms for £5 from ASDA. £5!!! I expect a car for that! Do pople think I'm made of money?

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Sex and knitting

I have been pondering the strange differences between male and female sexuality.

Women are much more interested in the whole experience of sex, the emotional as well as the physical side. When they are assessing a man's physical attractiveness from photographs, they are much more inclined to look at the whole man, not just focus in on some specific physical feature in isolation. Few women are interested in the sort of close up detailed pornography that men like. When they choose a life partner they go for stability and the ability to provide.

Us males are much simpler. We hone in on specific physical parts. Personally I worship at the temple of the female bottom. Or more specifically, at the holy of holies that is housed within these magnificent buildings, the female bumhole. I have to admit that when I look up after silent oral communion at this sacred place I am always surprised to find a woman attached to it. I had quite forgotten she was there.

It occurs to me that when the good lord made Adam and Eve he could have saved a lot of time by not bothering to mix and blend the ingredients. He could have just ladelled things out of one jar for Eve and different things out of another jar for Adam. Men should all talk like Lord Byron and earn like Bill Gates and staunchly defend their women to the death like John Wayne but it would be ok if they were all ugly hunchbacks. In fact they could even look like Bill Gates. Women, on the other hand, did not need to be given personalities at all. They could just have stalked around going, eg,

"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM ANITA, I HAVE HUGE TITS, I DO ANYTHING"
"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM ANITA, I HAVE HUGE TITS, I DO ANYTHING"
"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM ANITA, I HAVE HUGE TITS, I DO ANYTHING"
"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM ANITA, I HAVE HUGE TITS, I DO ANYTHING"
"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM ANITA, I HAVE HUGE TITS, I DO ANYTHING"
"HELLO BIG BOY, I AM...

But what about raising children? Actually children's needs are very simple too. They need a big warm thing to cuddle them when they are upset, somebody to stick plaster on when they are hurt and lashings and lashings of pocket money. My simplified mum and dad would suit them perfectly. I can hear the outrage from any female reading this. "But us women need to have some sort of emotional and personal life too, we need friends, we need a personality to be able to relate to other women."

No you don't, you would only waste it talking about blocked drains and knitting.

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Oh shit

End of my week off, Did I do half the things I meant to do? Nowhere near, as usual, but still, a whole week away from THAT Damn City and I enjoyed it. Meant to go back tonight but can't face it, so off tomorrow early as usual. What a bloody waste of life working is when you don't enjoy it. I can't jump off the treadmill on my own but I keep hoping the whole world will wake up and suddenly recognise the whole pointlessness of what we do. Like that Monty Python sketch, the Society for stacking things on top of other things. Waterloo Station. Some chap in a suit striding to work suddenly stops. "Hang on, why am I doing this?, this is silly" The chap next to him says "You know, your'e quite right". And it spreads out like a ripple, becoming a Tsunami of realisation that sweeps the world and everyone turns round and just goes back to bed.

I don't suppose it will happen this week and I have to go back to THAT damn city tomorrow. Somebody please kill me, please. Suffocation by a huge pair of female buttocks would be preferred but shooting or stabbing will do fine

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Lunchboxes again

I am still feeling really depressed at how inadequate my LUNCHBOX looks in my new tight lycra jogging pants. It isn't fair. It should be every man's birthright to have a gigantic LUNCHBOX. I bet when the good lord was handing out LUNCHBOXES I must have been at the back of the queque. "Oh dear, we seem to have run out. Gabriel, have a look in the LUNCHBOX bin over there will you, the one marked Rodents"

PS: This is of course reverse psychology as is the whole of my blog. If anyone was actually the sad sexually degenerate shambling old incompetent PATHETICALLY SMALL LUNCHBOXED person I represent myself to be they would certainly never say so would they? I bet you are thinking "hey, this guy must be really successful, a human dynamo, a social giant with an ENORMOUS LUNCHBOX". You aren't????

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WARNING! WARNING! Pompous thread alert

Virtues and vices - the new hit parade

After spending all that money on a pair of jogging bottoms (£30 bloody hell - I expect to buy FLORIDA for that!) I got to thinking about the things we value and despise in today's society. Are our values exactly the same as they used to be hundred of years ago? In a largely secular society, surely not? So why on earth has there never been any revision of the list of the seven deadly sins since a medieval pope first thought them up in a religion dominated society?. If we had applied the same conservatism to music then the charts would still be dominated by Gregorian chants.

Here is the official list of the seven deadly sins in descending order of severity as laid down by Pope St. Gregory the Great in the late 6th century:

Pride
Envy
Wrath
Sloth
Greed
Gluttony
Lust

Let's have a look and order the deadly sins with a secular eye, not according to how they might affect us getting to heaven, but according to how they affect people's lives on Earth.

These sins would definitely remain in my chart

Pride. Still at number one after sixteen centuries. That Pope Gregory wasn't so daft was he? The one that has ruined most lives. The pride of the men at the top with their visions of some great new world in which their own names will shine like a beacon for ever while rest of are acceptable casualties along the way. History comes and goes and and looking back, we survey the misery they caused and think, what the fuck was that all about?
Greed. "Greed is good" said Maggie Thatcher. No fool, Mrs T and I agree with what I think she meant. People work best when the fruits of their labour mostly go to improve the lives of themselves and their families. What I cannot accept is the way that, among all the things that matter to a human being, material acquisition is the only goal we seem to have. This tunnel vision is turning our country and our planet into hellholes.

These were always hovering at the bottom (My respect for Pope St Gregory has grown enormously since I started thinking of this thread) and have now dropped out of my chart.

Lust. Why and when did we ever get to the way of thinking that a simple natural pleasure like sex had to be wrong? There are many problems associated with it such as STDs or unwanted pregnancies but that does not make it in itself wrong. The car causes enormous problems, does that make it a tool of Satan?
Gluttony. Who ELSE does it really hurt? Or perhaps more exactly, how does it hurt more than a single minded pursuit of anything else? How many marriages are wrecked because of single minded devotion to a career? are careers a sin?

These are my new entries into the chart

Fundamentalism. The concept that because some orthodoxy has been laid down in the past it can never be challenged regardless of circumstance. Arguably, there are some basic moral principles that should not be challenged, what I object to is the circumscription of every aspect of people's lives and the framing of any laws which are not by intent based on logic and reality, It is a total waste of the human intellect.
Double standards. The idiocy that pervades our society. Anti-racism means putting other races on pedestals and never criticising those from other cultures for anything or ever impuning them with the same base motives we are happy to acknowledge in ourselves. We defend the right of every culture to exist except that of the white British. We think it OK for males to sleep around but women who do so are slags.

Sloth, Wrath, envy? I haven't decided where these should go yet or even if they should all be in my chart at all. Is sloth always a sin for example? If we lived in a world with less greed and pride would we need to be so industrious?

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Index

BLOGGOTH Page 2

The ramblings of a sleezy old git

Male Maori bottoms, interactive TV and used knickers

Work and vans

Sad as a proud man can be sad tonight

Rabbit holes

Saint xoggoth

Mating animals

Horror, exclusion and bad Tuesdays

Realism and giant crabs

Feeling ratty

The engineer's Sunday sermon

Forthcoming threads

Sexual attraction and lies

DNA testing and hotel towels

Free porn

Women's place

Here we go again

Suicide and vultures

The gobswoman of undeserved human rights

Fatwah

Pensions and chimneys

I must have forgotten to lock it

Hello big boy

A correct and talentless society

Goddamit!!

Bastards again, infidelity and little kids

Could this be the new love of my life???

The right price

Mooning

Women on trains, social functions and stroppy crabs

Bonfire night

Landlords and religion

Don't give me reality I can't handle it

Novelty and familiarity

Depression and shopping trollies

A promise is a promise

An end to workplace harrasment

Escapes and IR35

Jogging bottoms -update

Sex and knitting

Oh shit

Lunchboxes again

WARNING! WARNING! Pompous thread alert

Virtues and vices - the new hit parade

Copyright xoggoth