Murder

Mar. 6th, 2017 10:25 pm
keresaspa: (Default)
*Insert weak joke about visiting Edinburgh lots before waffling for ages about most recent visit*

Therefore )

Paris

Aug. 29th, 2015 11:07 pm
keresaspa: (Seagull)
Hello you *waves*. Yeah, just back from Paris and that, which, of course, means I have to go on at length about the last week. Apologies in advance if this gets a bit incoherent but you should all be used to that by now.

Lundi )

Mardi )

Mercredi )

Jeudi )

Vendredi )
keresaspa: (Diggory)
Whilst taking a jook through new releases available at a local record shop the other day one a release by a Dublin-based independent metal label caught my eye. And then I noticed the horrific words appended to the front: "cassette release". What bloody idiot decided to bring frigging tapes back?! Of all the music formats that I have used in my life tapes are by far the worst. They hiss like crazy, the sound quality is atrocious, they go wrong so easily and after a few plays they are virtually unlistenable.

Now hipsters will be hipsters and the fact that they brought them back for their crappy music is no skin of my nose. Just like checked shirts buttoned up to the neck, tattoos of flowers on the back of the hand, those stupid haircuts with the shaved sides and back but almost quiff on top (as favoured by hipster boys and Miley Cyrus alike) or trousers rolled up a bit to reveal a lack of socks I can smirk to myself when I see them and think "what a pile of posey tosspots". But now it is infesting usic that I actually care about I find myself increasingly hacked off at this stupid fad.

I'm not against old formats per se but there needs to be a genuine justification. LPs can have better sound (although that is rather exaggerated in my opinion) and so there is firm justification for keeping hold of them but why do tapes need to continue? The sound quality is bloody awful and it is just easy for a small band with sod all money to press stuff on CD as it is on tape. There is no reason for it other than being a hispter dick (and it's amazing how many of their supporters online always claim not to be hipsters when they so clearly are) and the argument that it is a backlash against the fact that digital ownership is non-ownership is equally a pile of bullshit as vinyl and CD solve that problem without sacrificing quality.

Tapes existed in the past because they were a cheap and portable alternative to vinyl and had the benefit of being reusable and then CDs came along and blew them out of the water. There is sod all need to change that other than just being "retro" for the sake of it. The fact that most of these twenty somethings are being nostalgic for something they never even used in the first place makes it doubly maddening. How can one "miss" tapes when when grew up after they had become obsolete, you Shoreditch knobheads!

I could just about accept the Chelsea Pensioners releasing their album on tape as it was available on other formats, it was aimed at very old people who have a tendency to be wedded to obsolete formats and I had no intention of buying it but these morons doing cassette-only releases? You won't be getting any of my money, kids. Bloody hipsters!
keresaspa: (Cynthia of Witching Hour fame)
It was probably a little silly of me to attempt two matches in one day, what with Belfast being in the grip of roadblocks caused by bicycles and slack-jawed gawpers incorporating torrential rain, but I decided to make the effort nonetheless. Ordinarily I would have been satisfied, or at least satisficed, with attending Sport & Leisure Swifts' crunch relegation decider in the afternoon but other things forced my hand. Saturdays in Belfast allow unlimited bus travel for two quid so I was excused walking duty but I was aware that the chaos was due to ensue once afternoon descended and so I resolved to get my bones out west as early as possible.

Inevitably bus travel was already a bit banjaxed with the hordes descending early and roads already getting blocked but by and by I made it to the salubrious environs of Poleglass, a huge sprawling housing estate (although some residents will tell you it's actually four or five small housing estates) sandwiched in between west Belfast and Dunmurry in a sort of no-man's land that is neither one thing nor t'other. An 11AM kick-off was the order of the day as advertised but when I arrived there was a half an hour wait on account of the visitors getting delayed in the roads melee. Nevertheless, despite the driving rain and the saturated nature of the pitch, Colin Valley reserves kicked off their match with their Bryansburn Rangers counterparts and before long it was raining goals as well as - well - rain. Valley took the lead in the first minute before Rangers took charge. They were 4-1 up at half time and it ended 5-2 in their favour, a shame as I have a bit of a soft spot for Colin Valley. But it's always good to see some goals for your trouble, I suppose. As a Division 3D Northern Amateur League match it is the lowest level of match I have attended and it also represented my third time watching a Bryansburn Rangers side this season. Total goals from the three matches - 23. Must try to catch them again next season.

After the appetiser (and a quick lunch that I just about had time to gobble down) it was time for the main course as I made my return to Glen Road Heights for the first time since November 2012. With my attentions firmly on DC, Sport & Leisure Swifts had fallen by the wayside but I still cocked the odd eye at their results and felt it was a shame how they were heading meekly out of the league. Then former DC manager Pat McAllister took over and, after a slow start, they dragged themselves up and going into the final match they needed a win to be guaranteed survival, having looked dead and buried about a month ago. A decent crowd by Swifts' standards had turned out to watch the crunch match against the mighty Chimney Corner (great name, pretty ropey club) and they were treated to a nervous, but wholly committed, display by the home team. Swifts' number 11 summed them up - a tiny man (5'4" if he was lucky) with little real skill but a bundle of energy who ran the feet of himself and was always after the ball. Their efforts were rewarded in the end as they took a narrow 2-1 to get the win they so needed. As it turned out it didn't really matter after all as their closest rivals, Killymoon Rangers, were roasted by Tobermore United and so will be relegated but the sense of relief in the home ground was palpable and I must admit I got caught up in it a bit myself, notwithstanding the presence of rather distracting nuisance children running wild. Not what you want when you're already a bath of nerves.

One more match awaits as I'll be up at Brantwood on Tuesday night cheering on yet another of the minor teams that I sympathise with as they attempt to beat Dollingstown and secure a long overdue return to the league in place of Killymoon. Still, barring a minor miracle, that's my lot for Saturday matches until the pre-season friendlies get going. Contemplating what I'm going to do with Saturday afternoons when my last blank weekend was in early July is giving me the cold sweats but for now I would prefer to look back on a grand year of 57 matches following DC and beyond. Ah, there's nothing like it. Roll on next season.
keresaspa: (Miki Sugimoto)
I'll get this bit out of the way in case anybody reads this far and can help me. Livejournal has forcibly converted my view of userpages into their God-awful new version and I desperately want to change back as I hate it and it has removed the option to view friends' pages without feeds and communities (there are a few of you with the odd interesting friend whose pages I like to peruse from time to time but whose feeds and communities are of little interest to me). The problem is I can't see any option that lets me view userpages in the old style. They offer me that option for journal feeds but not for userpages and I need it badly as the new version is so bad it makes me sulk worse than a blindfolded Japanese girl solving a Rubik's cube. So if you know how I can change it do let me know as I'm within an ace of throwing my dinner on the floor and trampling it into the ground.

Now for the bit nobody reads )
keresaspa: (L7)
As I type an open air music festival by the name of Tennent's Vital rages away about a mile from me as the crow flies. As loathe as I am to sound like an old fogey, they couldn't make it much louder, could they? I would never get between the young people and their music and I lost count of the number of times I was at open air music festivals in my youth (well, I never was actually) but turn the bloody racket down.

I might complain a bit less if the line-up was a tad better but I fail to see the appeal of dull indie chancers like the Black Keys and the Cribs, much less the Minutes or Trucker Diablo (although admittedly I have no idea who the last two are). But top of the bill? The bloody Foo Fighters! How these gits have got away with the same old regurgitated bog-standard bore-rock for so long, with Dave Grohl still hailed as a genius and the voice of a generation, is beyond me. People who rightly pillory the likes of Foreigner and Journey for churning out bland, formulaic, "anthemic" stadium rock will lick the Foo Fighters rings clean despite the fact that they have been doing the same thing since time immemorial. I bear them no malice as individuals but the sort of lowest common denominator rock that they, along with their offspring in the Kings of Leon, spew out has little or no musical merit at all as far as I'm concerned. The sort of crap that exists only to be blared out at ice hockey games to avoid the possibility that any of the morons in attendance might dare to have a thought in their heads. I swear if I hear a garbled version of bloody "Monkey Wrench" floating over on the wind I might just have to perforate my own eardrums.

That and the fact that Tennents is a pile of pish and even when I boozed I couldn't stand the blasted stuff as you would be better off drinking an alky's wee-wee. Harumph.
keresaspa: (Percy Sugden)
The Bank of Ireland building has stood at the corner of Royal Avenue and North Street in Belfast city centre for as long as I or anybody else can remember. Of course the name is a misnomer as it hasn't actually been a Bank of Ireland branch for some time but rather has lay derelict for the last lot of years. Until today that is when I happened to pass by and chanced upon the following sight.



Yup, the "Occupy Belfast" mob who had been ensconced round the corner in their little tents facing Saint Anne's Cathedral had decided to occupy somewhere indoors. I've already covered my thoughts on the Occupy movement previously and I stand by them despite some childish name-calling but the Occupy Belfast brigade made the London event look like the storming of the Bastille. A few tents and a couple of signs about 99% stuck between a block of flats and a place where skateboarders congregate registered precisely nothing on the annoying the powers that be scale and frankly looked absolutely pathetic after the initial posters had announced a grand scheme to occupy the headquarters of Invest NI. They are now holding a derelict building which is not exactly causing a wave of disruption but to their credit they were blaring music, have erected large banners (although I don't like the "o" in their sign - far too much like Oswald Mosley's flash and circle for my taste) and had managed to attract a smattering of curious gawpers, as well as forcing three or four of the pigs slash brutes to muddy their boots standing around rather than leaving them to spend a whole shift fannying about in Musgrave. Of course were they to make any real difference the place to occupy would be Stormont but unfortunately these sort of protests are far too bloody nice to break the law and so I suppose this move has to be seen as a big step forward. So well done boys and girls although in my day we occupied buildings that people actually used. Still made no difference as tuition fees not only remain but are higher than ever but at least we had a go.

And here's another picture (also taken by my own fair, and very shaky, hands) just for fun:



Painting the address to which a wheelie bin belongs in huge letters is a perfectly good idea but you really might want to consult the sign at the end of your road before doing so. Well I suppose "street" is a very long and esoteric road so there is no shame in getting wrong. "Steet", I ask you?!
keresaspa: (Percy Sugden)
The bloody squibs have started now! My distaste for all things Hallowe'en is well documented but the thing that I detest the most, and always have, is bloody fireworks. The appeal of loud bangs might be obvious to the Top Gear and Bruce Willis loving alpha males but to a Wednesday's child like myself they are just a flaming nuisance.Making All Hallows Eve a noisy bore is bad enough but when it is the middle of blasted day and suddenly you hear a loud bang ring out across the Andersonstown Road the joke is well and truly over. Plus given the history of Andytown it was no surprise that I wasn't the only one to start and then suddenly stop a drop to the floor, suddenly remembering that the days when the Queen's Own Brave Boys drove up that way to take pot shots at civilians are over. If they must have their fireworks let them have them on the night itself as I'm sure "civilised" people like myself (if not dogs) can endure it for one evening but all this nonsense weeks before and afterwards? Frankly if this is freedom I would sooner be in Soviet Russia. Humbug.
keresaspa: (Idi Amin)
If there's one thing you don't need during a quit attempt (feeling a good deal better physically but craving them more than ever today, thanks for asking) it is unnecessary annoyances. With that in mind I really should not have ventured to Sainsburys today. In and off itself food shopping is already quite annoying but today was a whole new kind of annoying. My own fault of course that I decided to arrive there around half three just as the schools were out. I have no children for a reason - they get on my wick! So trying to shop in a place crammed full of middle class mothers and their over-indulged offspring was hardly a nice experience. Add to that the blasted teenagers arriving with their rapid-fire, breathless, inane chattering and my head was ready to explode. Still it could be worse - I reckon I'll have an attempt at the town tomorrow!
keresaspa: (Mrs Mack)
So, the new intake of kiddies are abroad today. As part of the "welcoming" routine they get guided tours of the library which means that every twenty minutes or so a horde of bais in GAA tops and girls who seem to be an equal mix of bimbo and vaguely emo descend on the computer room and stand open-mouthed whilst an English guy paints a rosy, and almost entirely false, picture of how great the computer room is. It's now at the stage where I reckon I could rattle off his spiel myself. In my day, of course, this didn't happen. There were vague promises of guided tours but they were a bitch to get involved with and so most people, myself included, didn't bother, leaving one forced to make sense of the slightly arcane ways of the libraries yourself. A bit of a nuisance and no mistake, although to be fair to the childer they are surprisingly quiet, although I know from experience that the calm attentiveness will be exuviated before long as they gain a bit of confidence and start yelling across the room at each other about "the Sam" and Stella Artois. Eeh, but I can't wait! The summer opening hours (which continue until the start of next week despite summer having long given up the ghost) were a pain when I actually had work to do as you would be about to reach the climax when one of those men in pale blue shirts and dark blue slacks (with optional dark blue v-neck jumper featuring the full achievement of arms) would enter and yell "five minutes, folks", but at least they guaranteed relative calm and definite access to a computer. Such halcyon days are now at an end, a real pain given that now that I have no work they would have been fully appreciated. Oh well.

And speaking of "oh well" (and in possibly the least convincing linking device on record) the parcel snafu has been sorted. Luckily we are blessed in my area with a decent postman who is able to use his own initiative and said chap took it upon himself to fetch the parcel from the sorting office himself and bring it to my house. Gentleman. I dread the day when he decides that such common sense and good grace is wasted on the Royal Mail and high-tails it, leaving us at the mercies of the other dodo who leaves letters for a street down the road that has a similar but clearly different name to ours at the house.

Anyway, all for today as I must await the next onslaught of Seamuses, Siobhans and Patters, with the odd Ranjit or Li sprinkled in, interrupting my next feg. Smiles all round, chaps!
keresaspa: (Max Miller)
'Ere you'll never guess what I got. That's right, girl, only a copy of the "Max Miller Blue Book". Now there is a thing. Yes, e-bay has come up trumps again and this time delivered me a joke book from the Cheeky Chappie, himself (albeit by way of Barry Took). Even better, the thing itself cost a mere ten of the copper ones. Stonking. And speaking of Thomas Henry Sargent, I wonder what the great man would make of some little shit from Bath temporarily vandalizing his Wikipedia page? Knowing Maxy he would love it, although like me would probably shrug his shoulders in mystification trying to work out what a "fire crotch" was. And incidentally if the Max Miller you are referring to is indeed a "faggot" as you claim that proposition already infers that "he likes it in the butt", "has butsex with boys" and is "gay". Kid's today, eh? Thinking they invented dirty jokes!
keresaspa: (Shonen Knife)
One from the "it's a funny old world" file here. Not so long ago on here I revealed, much to the chagrin of [livejournal.com profile] caddyman as I recall, my fondness for Shonen Knife. Now those of you who also follow them (which I believe is none of you) will be aware that they stuck a new album by the name of Fun! Fun! Fun! out this year. To the best of my knowledge this has not been released in Blighty so after a load of trailing I finally tracked down a Japanese individual on e-bay who was prepared to export to the Province. Now, having been denied a switch card and having no desire to own a credit card I am forced to do that PayPal jazz by bank transfer. If I buy from a chap in Newcastle-under-Lyme or a lass in Dudley I invariably have to wait a week or so until said transfer actually happens which is a little annoying but generally tolerable. That being the case I am left to wonder why a bank transfer to Japan cleared a few seconds after I made it. I had no idea that the Bank of Ireland had opened a Japanese branch, much less that it was their most efficient branch in the world. Well, you live and learn.

One from the "it's a stupid old world" file here. I must admit I quite enjoy these lj tags as they give an idea of what something is about, meaning you can skip what doesn't appeal, and also allow you to find entries a lot quicker. What I don't much like is this new innovation that automatically adds spaces between them. Talk about dumbing down - we are capable of knowing where to add spaces, Frank the goat. I suppose this is aimed at those youngsters on here who are prone to streams of consciousness that say something like "OMGIMGONNAKILMSELFNOIMNOTLOL" but for the rest of us it is a little bit of an impertinence. So, any of you clever computer types know a way to make it stop happening?

One from the "it's a sleazy old world" file here. I notice my old friend Silvio is at it again, this time launching another new party of the "centre right" You've done that before, Silvio. It worked for a while when you brought in 'post fascists' and separatist loonies then stopped working and now you are on the scrapheap. Plus building the mass party is a communist aim and not something the right should be concerning itself with, unless your name happens to be Codreanu or Hitler. God but I would love to sit down with the editor of the BBC's politics output and argue the toss with him or her with regards to how they make out that a right wing populist who enters coalitions with self described fascists is centre right.

Well, that's the files exhausted for one day so you can now return to your normal lives - assuming anybody has bothered to read this far.
keresaspa: (Demis Roussos)
Ah, time to stop and smell the flowers. For the first instance in quite some time I have bugger all work to do today. That being said, of course, I didn't get off scot-free as a lot of fannying about has had to be done. The honcho had asked for a final version of the old thesis for him to rubbish so I got it done on Friday with the intention of handing in today. Of course, when I got to the binding place they told me soft-binding was not available until Thursday as millions of gits are looking it right now. "Sod it", thinks I, "I'll just stick it in a file as it's not the REAL final version". Only problem with that was no hole puncher. Being the tightwad I am I was loathe to buy one but gave in and took a trip to the local stationers. Arsed about there a while, unable to see one and dreading a Mates condoms ad-style encounter where I had ask "any hole punchers, love" before exiting with a red handprint on my face. Finally found the blighters and was forced to part with nearly four of your English pounds to get my hands on it. Yikes! Cue deluge of you stating how you could have got me one for nothing but waiting was not an option and I suppose it was overdue as the three I have are all very poor indeed, the sort that punch one hole and leave the other resembling the pregnants chads of Florida fame. Progress was further held up by all the new intake of kiddywigs who are registering this week and all seem to have that awkward combination of "I think I'm dead hard but am actually shitting myself so I'll be loud to cover it up" that is typical of new students. By the time I had punched my holes and squeezed 200 odd pages into a file that had had enough by 150 I had more waiting to do as the office was on a lunch break. Ended up having to read some terribly tedious book to fill in a spare half hour before facing a queue to hand the thing in. Still, at least it's out of the way and I don't need to worry again until Thursday when I see the honcho and he rips it apart. Good son!

Apropos of nothing, I happened to catch an episode of the really rather ghastly EastEnders the other night. Now normally a show obsessed with horrid London, "they were lovely boys who loved their mums even though they gave people ear to ear mouths for no particular reason" gangsters and chavs would appeal to me about as much as horse-crap sandwich but I was in no mood for a cigar so I decided to tough it out. I mention this only because my interests was very definitely sparked by the appearance of Nina Wadia. By George, but isn't she a deliciously buxom woman?! Twas always a delight to see her on Goodness Gracious Me and I'm very glad she is back on our screens. So makers of tawdry BBC soap, if you happen to be reading this let's have more Zainab Masood and less of those awful Mitchell sisters. Thank you.

Anyway, enough work and licentiousness for one day. All that remains is to say a happy birthday to a fellow mid-September baby in [livejournal.com profile] the_fi and bid you all a good day.
keresaspa: (Bucket)
Ah, that time of year again when they heard a bunch of smelly oddballs into the sweatiest little lock-up in Belfast and let us all fight over a bunch of old books that even BELB doesn't want to know about. Or to put it another way, the annual library sale is on again. After yesterday's fiasco I made my way down to it a good two hours later than I anticipated, having made the mistake of leaving the house coatless on a day when rain was predicted. A good long hike in boiling drizzle followed, with nought but a light shirt for protection. Fun! Still, I got there in the end and walked away my usual contended self, laden down with books on sea-birds, Europe, Everton and, rather wonderfully, Hyacinth Bucket's Book of Etiquette for the Socially Less Fortunate. Could there be much better than laying your hands on a Keeping Up Appearances book for a song? Well, probably but still. Plus I even touched for a copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam for twenty of your new pence. Just bloody excellent. I suspect I may break protocol and return to the town tomorrow to pick up more grand crap. Admittedly town on a Saturday is a hellish prospect due to the sheer volume of annoying teenagers in their respective uniforms of those ghastly hooded tops with the horizontal stripes or the black hooded tops bearing the legends of woefully inept bands with delightfully upbeat names such as My Chemical Romance or Funeral for a Friend but needs must when Old Scratch is driving and all that.

In the nastiness of the real world however, I see that the not-so great dictator Bertie Ahern is about to win another term to continue his corruption-riddled crap conservatism that would be baulked at even in parts of Latin America. In the sainted words of Apu Nahasapeemapetilon where's a gun-totting low-life when you need one?
keresaspa: (Karl Marx laughing)
I must admit I've never liked this time of year. Halloween has always struck me as pointless throwback in which already spoilt children get the opportunity to demand money from complete strangers with the added menace of attacking your house if you don't give it to them. Fireworks are another pain in the arse and even as a nipper I was never impressed by them. If I wanted lights and noise I would spark up a feg and start shouting rather than waiting for bangs that are deliberately contrived to be as random as possible in order to scare the crap out of unsuspecting citizens such as myself. Not to mention the drone at the door of that blasted rhyme about the goose getting fat. I've yet to see the "old man's hat" that they went a penny in and were I to give the penny they demand I'm sure a selection of Bengal matches or a St Catherine wheel would be deposited through my letter box tout de suite. Lot of old rubbish if you ask me (not that anybody did, of course). Plus All Souls Night is coming up and I still brick it from time to time when I think of the stories I was told in my youth of the spirits of the dead rising for one night. The joys of an Irish Catholic upbringing, I suppose. A pity Walter Matthau's dead really as he could have protrayed me with some success.
keresaspa: (Mrs Mack)
Hallowe'en. Yuck. What a pointless time of year this really is. I have no desire to dress like a pillock, nor do I have any desire to throw money at people just because they have chosen to do so, and I sure as heck don't want to be jumping out of my skin because some spides are pleased by loud noises and flashes of light in the sky. Killjoy or what? Actually even when I was a nipper I took little pleasure in the annual farce. I can remember dressing up and going round begging only twice and even then I didn't feel right about it. Fireworks have never interested me either as there's something terribly lowest common denominator about them. I'm not a mung bean eating 'they scare dogs' type, I just find no pleasure in loudness for its own sake. Plus when people come to my door expecting money just because they are wearing a Scream mask under their hooded tops I feel I really should be reaching for my Turkish cavalry sabre and driving the little hoods away rather than firing them off a handful of change (which they wont be satisfied with anyway). If money is that important let these nippers sign on the dole and keep them out of my hair.

Speaking as I briefly did about the craze for hooded tracktops I was amazed (no scrub that it's Tony B. Liar and his Populism Carnivale we're talking about here) to see a bizarre little 'chavier than thou' senga by the name of Lady Sovereign turning up at 10 Downing Street and being allowed in to launch a 'Save the Hoodie' campaign. I can only hope that said 'lady' (and the term could not be used more loosely) is a bull-shitting stage-school brat seeking some cheap publicity for her woeful attempts at 'urban' music (which appears to suggests that all non-rap and swingbeat (for I refuse to use the term R and B for anyone who doesn't have a Muddy Waters dimension) comes from the wilds of Cromarty or something). If this is actually being taken seriously then I despair of this country. It is only an article of clothing, people! The witch hunt against them is a little OTT but reaction to it is similarly ridiculous. Think outside the box, youth and today, and stop tying yourselves to fashion-dictated uniforms. I have never worn a hooded tracktop in my life and I'm perfectly fine.

Apologies if that all came across as a bit Daily Mail but I sometimes despair of the youth of today. And relax.
keresaspa: (Edwige Fenech)
Busy day today. Up to all sorts of lark. Fun all the way (well, not really but stuff that needs to be done nonetheless). Now if I could just figure out why my Friends page here is acting the wag then I would be happy as a sandboy.

Beyond that, little to report. The children should be arriving here in the next few days for the open day and then all the culchy intake will be coming for the new term and the calmness of summer will evaporate. Bugger! I suppose I should be used to them by now but every year I get older as a year I understand the histrionics of 18 and 19 year olds a little less. Crotchety old git, I am.

back to work I suppose. These things don't sort themselves out. Cheerio!
keresaspa: (Cheesey with big moustache)
I hadn't intended to come out here today but there was something that had to be done and it preyed on my mind a bit last night so I had to get down and do it. Nothing major or nothing for you to worry about, dear reader, merely some work-related annoyance that couldn't be allowed to lie until Monday. Most annoying as I'm now hemmed in here for a while until the school children go away and allow me to get on the bus to Sainsburys. If there's one thing I really can't abide (and God knows there are plenty) it's being on a bus with a gaggle of schoolies. Things as simple as turning corners are treated like concepts so exciting and so alien to them that you get the feeling they've just beamed in from Zeta Rectuli or something. I can honestly say, hand on heart, I was never like them. I was as grim then as I am today. Added to that is the fact that just down the road from me was apparently a hive of rioting last night. Should be fun heading out for a few jars tonight, but such is life. You don't live 25 years in Belfast and expect to avoid all riots. Surprise, surprise, apparently it all stemmed from flags again, only this time it was loyalists getting pissed off at GAA flags in a republican district. That's rich coming from the people who fly about ten flags from every house in July and festoon their streets with bunting to boot. Less is more, folks. Of course the real reason is the usual one, boredom, but they always need to come up with an excuse to cover it. I've a heard a cop shop took a bit of a hammering. I'll be crying over that, I don't think!
keresaspa: (Seagull)
The culchie kiddies are out in force. This place is agog with all the nerks fresh out of school thinking they're big people now. The sort who will say "are you going down the street?" to mean going into town as they are used to life in incestuous hamlets in Fermanagh. Result is that there is a hell of a lot of faffing around being done whilst old lags like me try to remain our usual unruffled selves. Tobacco always helps, of course.

Ah BAB

Apr. 29th, 2004 02:26 pm
keresaspa: (During the war)
Weird sort of day. As I walked down through studentville I passed a house where some bint had obviously got a karaoke machine and had decided to regale the world with an atrocious version of the already woeful song "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship (I think). I mean really, if you must do that sort of thing at least close your windows before you start. Bloody students. All need a spell in the army, they do.

So they're in a pickle over this Falluja lark and they think they can ignore it by designing a horrible flag. I said it when they first went into Iraq that the harvest of the so-called "liberation" would be the destruction of a viable Iraqi state. I feel that my words have been fulfilled. I will say no more.

I'm off on my travels again tomorrow as I'm finally going to see what all the fuss is about this London place. I'm there until International Workers Day so expect the next update about Tuesday (Bet you cant wait, eh? Oh.). Meanwhile I'd best bugger off and hunt down the honcho to give him this essay (some hope, he'll be off cottaging or something). Fair thee well.

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