keresaspa: (Cartman)
Every time I post to this now I seem to begin with a note to excuse my absence due to the paucity of updates. What can I say, less than auspicious days recently. In the meanwhile however a standing engagement in Edinburgh took me across the sea once more and, as ever, I shall betell the events.

Lay on, MacDuff )

Rufus

May. 14th, 2013 09:30 pm
keresaspa: (Lolita No. 18)
Sun, wind and horrendously fair skin caused by being Irish infused with tainted Viking blood make a less than heady combination. The weather has been practically diluvian recently but in between the sort of hailstone deluge that leaves your trousers about a stone heavier we are being blessed (?) with interludes of baking sunshine. Sitting directly in its gaze on Friday night as I watched DC limply surrender their top flight status I managed to get a sunburnt eyelid and today in the baking heat of Bangor I have completed the set with face and bald pate now shiny red. The black clouds and lashing rain fooled me into thinking that sun block would only be good for giving myself long white streaks as it ran down my face mixed with rain water but instead I am facing my second sunburn of the year already. Were I a worrier that little hard pimple that has risen up on my forehead would be giving me sleepless nights but fortunately the usual combination of insomnia and bloody unreasonable arseholes on ebay have taken care of that already.

Sod it, let's have a change of pace.

Question: Is what follows the single greatest thing in the history of the universe and everything?



Answer: Yes.
keresaspa: (All cops are not nice)
Banjaxed. That just about sums me up at this precise moment. Hectic. That just about sums up the day I have had, albeit in a good way.

With a ticket to the League Cup final secured, a 5:35 kick-off decreed by the Sky Sports cameras (FA Cup weekend so they're really hard up for live matches) and a bunch of Intermediate Cup matches kicking off at half one I decided, for reasons I have long since forgotten, to attend two separate matches in one day. I had two choices - Bloomfield or Immaculata - and I reasoned that east Belfast on a Saturday is a write-off warzone and it is nowhere near Windsor Park so the only option was Immaculata v Islandmagee. High end stuff.

Rolling out just after midday I took the bus down to the city centre but was forced to alight early to get to a Post Office and fire off a late ebay sale. Getting off at Shaftesbury Square I ran into the Sandy Row massive on their weekly pilgrimage to the City Hall, hauling all manner of union jacks along with them. SO much for the filth supposedly taking a harder line with road blocks as the mob marched along the road the whole way and the PSNI did sod all except provide an escort for them. Traffic couldn't move of course - if that's not blocking roads then I don't know what is.

Immaculata play on the Grosvenor Road in what is essentially an all weather pitch in a leisure centre. No covered standing or nothing, which was a real pity as it pelted with rain from start to finish. Islandmagee, meanwhile, is a cacky little place on the Antrim coast between Carrickfergus and Larne and known only as the scene of the last witch trial in Ireland. They are however at a higher level than Immaculata, playing in the Premier Division of the Northern Amateur Football League, with Immaculata two divisions down in the NAFL 1B. For all the good it did them, mind you, as the Grosvenor mob triumphed 2-0 to advance to the fifth round, much to chagrin of the actually quite large crowd of Islandmagee supporters and associated culchie hangers-on, many of whom had made the trip because the lousy weather had wiped out a huge chunk of the card on the local football scene. The standard of play was appalling (particularly Islandmagee's number nine, a portly chap who seemed completely incapable of staying onside) but I suppose it is to be expected at this level.

With match one done and dusted a strolled back down the Grosvenor to Great Victoria Street train station and hopped the rails up to Balmoral, as the boys in black had decreed all Cliftonville supporters had to access the ground via Stockman's Lane and the Boucher Road rather than the more usual (and easily accessible) Lisburn Road. Balmoral station is about a mile and a half from Windsor's North Stand, nothing to me normally but a hell of a trek in torrential rain. Having steadfastly refused to yield to the smartphone craze I was effectively bereft of all information and thus was riddled with anxieties about postponement as I wended my way along the bland and featureless pedestrian-hating eyesore that is the Boucher Road. When I finally made it the match was still on but the rain was still pissing down non-stop and the two goalmouths were already glue pots. Things weren't helped by the on pitch compère, whose attempts to force the atmosphere for the cameras was unwelcome and annoying. It was a north Belfast derby at Windsor Park, we really didn't need some tosspot to create atmosphere the place was heaving on its own.

The game kicked off in atrocious weather conditions, with things slippery underfoot and parts of the pitch throwing up spray. Things were fairly evenly matched in the early going with both teams having half chances but then it all went wrong for the Crues as Diarmiud O'Carroll and Joe Gormley scored in quick succession to put Cliftonville 2-0 at half time. Bad to worse for the Shore Road shites not long into the second half as Paul Heatley got a straight red for a brutal tackle from behind on George McMullan. I've not seen it since but it did look a TV red card to me i.e. the sort of challenge that would see you sent off in a Sky Sports match but in the Irish League would normally be a yellow. I could be wrong of course as I just saw it in real time but by local standards it looked a bit harsh. Crues were toast by this point with two sweet strikes, one from Gormley and one from bald-headed midfield stopper and unsung hero Ryan "Cats" Catney, killing them off. Gormley, who had a belter of a match, might even have completed his hat trick late on but in the end there was to be no more as Crusaders surrendered meekly in losing 4-0. Given that Crusaders are second in the table behind Cliftonville a more competitive match was anticipated but they never got going and in the end the Reds were more than worthy winners. As the final whistle blew the rain, which had continued bucketing down throughout at levels that abandonment seemed a distinct possibility at times, suddenly stopped as if God himself had looked on and saw that it was good. Verily if this Cliftonville team does not go on and add the title to this League Cup triumph then something will be seriously wrong as they were at times imperious here.

The hike back to Balmoral was a little easier in the dry although in the dark the Boucher Road seemed somewhat interminable and the long wait on the lonely platform was a tad eerie and the train only left me two miles from home but the walk back up was easy as I had a spring in my step that comes only from the communal sharing of triumph. This was only the second time I personally had watched Cliftonville in a final - the first being the anti-climax of the Irish Cup defeat to Glenavon in 1997 - so to finally see them taking a trophy in a one-off match in the flesh was elating to say the least. Certainly a hard old slog but well worth the effort for a bit of early grass roots fun followed by a historic and emphatic win for the Reds.
keresaspa: (Stan Ogden)
Bloody rain! Too much rain leads to waterlogged pitches which in turn leads to the football card being wiped out and in turns leads to me kicking my heels trying to fill up a boring Saturday. How the hell did I used to survive this day before I went back to the football? Strictly speaking I might have went anyway as there is one game on due to Seaview having a plastic pitch but Crusaders-Linfield was ruled out because (a) it's too loyalist, (b) I hate both teams and (c) it might well have been all-ticket anyway.

Still, if nothing else it gives me time to clear up two of my annual traditions in one go so read on or hit the road, whichever suits you.

Top 10 albums of the year )

2012 thing )
keresaspa: (Tiger Jeet Singh)
Specifically those of you (if any) who have sold on ebay and been dicked about whilst doing so. How long is too long to wait for payment? I sold something not last Sunday but the Sunday before (25th November) and have yet to hear jack from the buyer. I have invoiced her thrice and sent her a polite but firm e-mail but ten days later on still a big fat zero. I would open a dispute resolution thing but (a) I'm not sure if I'm being too hasty and (b) I'm concerned that not only will it not net me my dough but will get me the inevitable negative revenge feedback. We're not talking any sort of big money here (about a fiver or so) but it's the principle - if you go out of your way to buy the thing from me then pay me or else don't bid in the first place. So any thoughts? Too soon, give her Hell or waste of time anyway?
keresaspa: (Alice)
The great laptop power outage has thankfully come to an end but not without one of my periodic bouts of one banana skin to the next syndrome. As per instruction I ordered a replacement PSU from e-bay but, being a cheapskate, I ordered one without a plug, reasoning that my own one was fine and I wasn't worth paying the extra few knicker. Big mistake but we'll come to that in a minute. In the meantime the complete lack of resilience in my laptop's battery restricted me to about fifteen minutes a day at most, especially after a cheeky attempt to the use the PSU anyway resulted in it turning itself into a bolt thrower and banging out smoke at levels not seen in my house since I stubbed my last Castella. The last two days have, as a result, been filled with any attempt to fill in time that would otherwise be given over to the internet. Much has been accomplished, including rereading the entire Adventures of Sherlock Holmes series, deciding that each story was too short and that some of them were a little silly ("The Man with the Twisted Lip" = come on), finally framing and hanging up my Ho Chi Minh picture which I acquired five or six years ago and rearranging my collection of kokeshi and Momiji. All good stuff, lady, but not my precious internet and time has hung heavy on my hands. So vile it was that I was even reduced to grabbing fifteen minutes at Cregagh public library, deep in the heart of loyalist east Belfast, this afternoon. How I used to use public computers constantly is beyond me as the total lack of privacy is abominable.

Anyroad whilst I was there the replacement PSU arrived and so I came home full of the joys of midwinter and hooked it up ready for action. Then guess what - snap, crackle and pop all over again. It turned out it was the plug part that was the problem rather than the box. So I managed to get my hands on a replacement plug part from a local Mr Fixit we know only to discover that it was three pin and I needed a two pin one. Finally just over an hour ago I made it to a late night branch of Curry's where, after a lot of faffing around and a crushing sensation that they didn't have what I needed, I finally touched for the cord I required. The couple of pound I saved from e-bay evaporated as the Curry's version cost a hell of a lot more but I decided I could wait no longer and so blew over a tenner on the bloody thing. To cut a long story short (too late) my favourite phrase in cristendom as in hethenesse - "plugged in, charging" - is now once again visible and my two new parts are emitting neither scent nor sound just as it should be. An odyssey it has been and it bothers me that in three short years I have become so reliant on having internet on tap but for now I will rejoice in the fact that the Great Laptop Outage of 2011 has come to an end. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
keresaspa: (Percy Sugden)
More flaming E-bay drama! Indeed a direct repeat of the previous incident as another tosser has opened an unpaid item dispute for a payment that has been made. I dont mind these things when I'm in the wrong but when I'm not I can really do without e-mails threatening me with no-payment black marks or whatever they call their piddling little attacks. An angry missive has been sent off to E-bay lambasting them for wasting my time with this crap but unsurprisingly I have heard nothing back from them or the idiot who started this as they are pretty damn good at starting these things but bloody slow about dealing with them. I reckon that once my current load of stuff has been delivered my E-bay account will be shut down as two of these things in a fortnight, coming hot on the heels of two separate incidents of security breaches of my account, both of which they tried to blame on me, are more than enough shoddy service for one lifetime.

Elsewhere this made me chuckle a tad and shudder somewhat as there is something deeply disturbing about a man in his 70s being involved with 18 year olds. Given all the sleaze and another recent round of divorce proceedings, could it be that Silvio is going to trade in Veronica Lario for our own Tessa Jowell? No scrub that, he'll probably marry some 12 year old next, judging by the way he's going. Like I say, shudder.

Oh yes and given recent events it is that time of year again when I revisit the predictions I made at the start of the season. Feel free to ignore (which you will):

Football League )
keresaspa: (Sergio Aragones)
I mentioned on here many moons ago that I am a staunch admirer of oddball 70s comic Plop! and I'm glad to report that said admiration has just been rekindled. A bit of a cleanout the other night uncovered a couple of issues I bought a few years back and immediately reminded me of how great they were. Bizarre little stories, drawn in a weird cartoony style, Sergio Aragones' truly arcane sense of macabre humour really did mark him out as the Frank Zappa of comics in my book. Within the medium but completely outside any sense of its conventions, Aragones matches Zappa not only for his inventive madness but also for his heroic facial hair. Of course I couldn't leave it there, so it was on to e-bay post haste to chase down what was there and as a consequence I am now sweating on eight separate issues. Still, it'll be worth the hassle as I really do need to get my hands on as many as possible in case they should start straying into the silly money stakes.

Mind you, I'm a bit of a sucker for the less mainstream DC Bronze Age titles in general. Sit me down with a copy of All-Star Western, Forbidden Tales of Dark Mansion, Shade, the Changing Man or Prez and I'm happy as a sandboy. As such I was rather pleased to pay under a pound for three 70s war comics (Star Spangled War Stories, Four Star Battle and Our Fighting Forces) and thus ensure myself three blasts of good old fashioned xenophobic fun. Can't be bad to it. Fingers crossed a double dunt of Star Spangled and Phantom Stranger (odd mix there) and a collection of five featuring Unexpected, Weird Mystery, Weird Worlds, Secrets of the Haunted House and House of Mystery turn out just as well as the old collection is long overdue a few additions.

Where new comics are concerned I've been out of the loop somewhat since the early 90s and it's been around eight years or so since I was a regular buyer in the back issues market but it does one good to indulge one's older hobbies from time to time and for a bit of fun I always revisit comics every few years. Good for the soul you know (if not the bank balance).
keresaspa: (Dare to Believe)
Something of a turn-up for the books today as the gnój who had been getting on my wick rather fundamentally over on ebay surprisingly weighed in with my item today. I had visions of it taking about a month to deliver as a misguided attempt to teach me a lesson for banks being slow but there it was today, a double album of Dar Williams goodness. A tad removed from my normal tastes is Dar (although I'm not altogether sure what my normal tastes are anymore) but rather jolly nonetheless and somebody whom I oddly remember well from my teenage years as she was featured quite heavily on Radio Two at the time (R1 being much too trendy for a throwback like me even in my early years). Always good to open minded where music is concerned, of course, and pleasingly the days when I felt the need to define myself by narrow musical tastes are long gone. "If it's not dance I'll give it a chance" as I always say. Well, I just said it there for the first time but it is still cromulent.

Meanwhile I'm thinking of getting a digital camera. Any hints as I know sod all about the things but feel that it's time I had one. Nothing too fancy or cutting-edge given my own propensities towards the ways of Ned Ludd and nothing too expensive as I'm not made of money you know, but if any of you good people have something to recommend speak now as your input is needed.

And that's all.
keresaspa: (Colonel Blink)
Bloody e-bay drama with some bashi-bazouk opening a dispute because my payments take a while to clear and take even longer when the dreaded bank holidays interlope on proceedings. I mean all it takes is a bit of common sense, some patience and, if you really can't wait, a simple e-mail asking what's keeping the payment. Running off to Miss and telling on the bad boy who has actually done nothing outside the rules is beyond childish and the sign of a duff seller in my book. But of course in situations like this one has to bite one's tongue somewhat lest the petulant little tosser takes the money and runs because big bad boy didn't take kindly to being fingered when he had done nowt. This is why online shopping, whilst it has a place, will never replace the real world completely.

Anyway, back to my favourite (he said ironically) place tomorrow as I am booked in for the rest of those liver tests at the Doctors early in the morning (afternoons being an alien concept to the medical profession apparently). Now I was informed that a urine sample was needed but despite this I was not offered one of the plastic sterilised things to do it in. I am now faced with a dilemma - either take a Monty in a juice bottle this evening and risk it being contaminated by residue of the original content or the bottle being made of an odd type of plastic or else go tomorrow without a sample and just pish in the proper receptacle there but risk facing the wrath of some NHS jobsworth for being in breach of some silly little made-up rule about not being allowed to strain the potatoes on the premises. This is my first widdle sample that has not been provided there and then so if any of you know the correct procedure here do let me know as I am completely in the dark.

Well, I reckon that's enough talk about bodily functions for now as I am fast running out of euphemisms for wee-wee. Bye for now.
keresaspa: (Bhishma (Mukesh Khanna))
E-bay drama - where would we be without it? Slightly lower in blood pressure, perhaps?! Perhaps I should explain (or not, but I'm going to anyway so nyahh). Yesterday at about fourish I got nine copies of the same e-mail. It was mostly gibberish but was in the form of an e-bay message to do with electrical goods in east Africa (how depressingly stereotypical). Next thing I know, my e-bay account is blocked due to somebody having apparently accessed it on the fly. Luckily no money had changed hands but there it was blocked, despite a password change. I threw my hands up in despair and stormed home, muttering angrily to myself about cancelling the bloody thing and telling them to shove it.

So when I got home I by and by mentioned it to [livejournal.com profile] queenmartina who sat me down at her computer (which, ordinarily I dare not touch for fear of ballsing it up) in an attempt to rectify the problem. Talk about head against a brick wall. They would tell me what to do, let me get so far, and then tell me that I was blocked from doing what they had specifically instructed me to do. The whole thing wasn't helped by the fact that I use my uni e-mail account to do all this but since it changed systems I can't access it outside of here. So I managed to bundle my way through the red tape to a contact e-bay bit where I fired off an angry missive about how I have always protected my password and never shared it, how bored I was of the whole fuss and being treated like it was my fault and how I was seriously considering my membership in light of the breach of security. Two minutes later, block removed on the pretext of me having changed my password. A bit coincidental. Still, glad it's over as it was a pain in the backside.
keresaspa: (Ben Turpin)
It's an absolute pisser of a day in weather terms today and it's the middle of October. So how is that in the space of two minutes two separate wasps decided that they liked the cut of my jib and fancied flying into my face? Were it not for the fact that I had a feg on at the time I suspect I would now have two big plukes from where the little buggers planted their arse-needles. In all, I think that I have had more than enough of little buzzy things after the swarm of bees that blighted the summer by moving in with me but wasps in October?! What next, elephants in Royal Avenue?

Still, weather be buggered as a series of recent e-bay purchases are finally starting to roll in now that my bank has finally got its arse in gear and paid the e-cheques (or whatever it is that makes my payments take so long). Yesterday, a fine German lad came up trumps with some rare slices of shouty Japanese ladies with big guitars that are so much ambrosia to my ears. Included in the melee was an outfit called the Kokeshi Dolls and, rather oddly, today I took delivery of an example of the thing that actually bears that name:



Yes, that goes well with my hairy-backed image but it really is delightful. Feel free to throw things at me for that!

Meanwhile, away from my little world well done to Jeremy Paxman for saying what needed to be said. The BBC's coverage of all things royal is by and large sickening with the hushed tones and the five year old descriptions of what we can plainly see on screen. "Her Majesty the Queen walks slowly past the adoring public. A child places flowers into her regal hand". The funeral of the Queen Mother was indeed a joke as well as David Dimbleby was practically foaming at the mouth in his unsuccessful attempts to land himself a knighthood for services to brown-nosing. It said it all for me when he praised Ian Paisley for giving the best speech on how great Bowes-Lyon - politicised bum-sucking of the first water! The sooner the beeb realises that the royal family are just a bunch of parasites who sometimes do things of interest but whose every bowel movement is not news the better.

Anyway I must go off and read something terribly important now as Gordon Strachan's wee lad has a blog on the BBC site. I swear they really are just giving them to anybody now. Until next time, livejournalland.
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: (Default)
I would like to go on record as saying that I have never heard of Greg Mulholland and don't suppose I ever will again. I'm sure he might well be [livejournal.com profile] burkesworks best mate but to me he is just another of the faceless horde1 that make up the Liberal Democrats in Parliament. However his five minutes in the sun have now come courtesy of a bout of so-called swearing. Now first of all, "arsehole" is hardly swearing but is rather everyday language. Perhaps dubbing it swearing is just indicative of how far removed these idiots are from the real world. Secondly if the equally anonymous Ivan Lewis (cripes, but he's an ugly bugger) feels that this sort of thing sends a "terrible message to young people" then point one is proven as the vast majority of young people will no more know who Ivan Lewis or Greg Mulholland are than they will know how to build their own winnowing barn. Thirdly, Mr. Lewis' constant toeing of the party line and naked ambition on the party's right wing suggest that the Honourable Member for Leeds North West was right on the money when he dubbed him an "arsehole". And fourthly, if anything young Mulholland should be praised for his use of the vernacular "arsehole" rather than following so many people in their headlong rush towards (never "toward") Americanisation by adopting the somehow less forceful sounding "asshole". All in all silly rules be buggered Gregory, you've done alright by yourself this time.

On a completely unrelated topic, remember the e-bay debacle or recent weeks and my snivelling whinging over losing money. Well after quite a bit of rigmarole and gnashing of teeth the thing casually dropped through my letter box this morning2. It seems it pays to be a moaning minney after all. And despite my earlier deductions to the contrary it was not delivered from China but rather from the slightly less exotic environs of Chatham3. Still, all's well that ends well as Professor Calculus would have it.

1Well "horde" is hardly the proper name for 63 guys but I do not know the collective noun for a Liberal Democrat MPs. A chattering? An unkindness? A skulk? A murder?

2Not quite accurate as it had to be signed for due to a recorded delivery sending and it was early afternoon but "the thing casually had to be signed for as a consequence of recorded delivery postage this early afternoon" just doesn't sound as good.

3In this case no doubt as in the famed law firm of Chatham, Cheetham and Runn.
keresaspa: (Arthur Atkinson)
Eegardnat, but e-bay can be a pain in the arse when it wants to be. Back in mid-December I ordered a CD from a character purporting to be British but whom I suspect, given the nature of the album in question, may actually be Chinese. PayPal payment, no sweat, cleared just after Christmas. A week or so later, nowt, so I e-mailed said seller and heard nothing in return. Fair enough, thinks I and so I tried again last week. Once again diddly. To Hell with this, ponders your hero and so today I skedaddle over to e-bay to lodge a complaint only to be told that it's not their problem and go piss off to PayPal where you belong. I've had this before and so expected the usual treatment i.e. not our problem, piss off to e-bay and the beginning of a horrendous loop that of back and forth until you give up. Fortunately today they were more helpful and opened up some dispute type thing that took ages to get going and seems to be the equivalent of tugging the seller’s hemline and saying "can I have my CD, pwetty pwease". If the chap fails to get his arse in gear I can escalate the claim, which appears to me to be the equivalent of an Ivy the Terrible style tantrum on the carpet in which you wail "give me my money". Bloody internet and its faceless capitalism! My own fault, I suppose for being so keen on all-female Oriental punk rather than those nice Westlife albums you can get with your corn flakes and Shippams.

The whole thing has left me with a bit of a brain ache and so I believe I must avast and have a cig and feel the rain on my face before my head explodes like that bloody film that I am now going insane trying to remember the name of. Gah!
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: (Dipsy)
OK, this heat really is getting beyond a joke now. Since Friday, I don't think there has been a second that I haven't be sweating. Sort it out!

Meanwhile, look what I won on e-bay. Yes!
keresaspa: (Beatrice smoking)
We often hear from scabs like Evan Davis that the weakness of the dollar makes it an ideal time for pillocks on this side of the world to start getting stuff from the burger-eating invasion monkeys on the other side of the bourne. Never knowingly being anything other than a pillock I decided to take advantage of this last month and bandied onto e-bay to shell out for a couple of Shonen Knife albums from the Plott Hound state (North Carolina to the non-dog types). Now, I'll give the boys their due as the lark about it being cheaper certainly was true, as the pair plus postage came to under fifteen sovs for two items that are harder to find in this part of the world than an honest Blairite. Still, I wonder at the wisdom of a postal service that decides, rather than send the items from NC direct to Belfast or, at a push, to London then on to Belfast, to send the items to Germany, thus holding them up ages and ensuring that I finally got my grubby mitts on them nearly a month after ordering. Yes, cheaper, but an absolute pain in the tuckus waiting ages on something and not knowing whether you've been cozened, there's been a balls-up at the Royal Mail or it's just par for the course. I'm not sure if I got a bum steer here or if this is normal practice but I'll be wary of taking advantage of the weak dollar again...for about three seconds.

There again, it is the little things that are sent to try us. During the recent clearout of my uncle's house I chanced upon an old sepia photograph of some long-forgotten relative or other who bore a vague resemblance to Heinrich Himmler. I have absolutely no idea who he was but for some reason I thought it was ace and made a point of trousering it. A couple of days later it disappears from my house and what followed was a frenetic comedy of errors trying to find the thing which included, but was not limited to, pestering the local Oxfam to dig out some books that had been donated in case it turned up amongst them. Sunday it was, when a drawer in the kitchen was being cleared out and guess what turned up in the middle of assorted old Christmas cards and school reports? As I said earlier, I have never knowingly been anything other than a pillock.

Well, I believe I have bored you all enough for one day with mundane tales of life's tribulations. A fresh box of John Player Specials rests in my jacket pocket and I can now hear them calling my name so I must give in and go set one of them aflame. Happy landings.
keresaspa: (Arthur Scargill)
Well, in an update from the other day I now see that the list of candidates for South Belfast has been finalised. Looking at it now it'll be between Barbour and Lo for one and two. Barbour's more likely to get it from me but has no hope of winning so I'm not sure. Probably Maskey and Lynn for three and four and that'll do me, although that all depends on who the hell Geoffrey Wilson is and what he has to offer. Alasdair McDonnell is a tosser and can whistle if he thinks he's getting my vote and the same goes for the Green Party as I am sick to the back teeth of their crapola. Not so long ago Rainbow George would have appeared on my list but his association with former NF stalwart (and occasional seller of wares to me on e-bay) David Kerr means he can jump in the Lagan as far as I'm concerned. Says a lot about the seat that I live in when the Ulster Unionists put up three candidates, the DUP two and we get one each from the Tories, Bob McCartney's Barmy Army, the UVF and some pillock calling himself Pro-Capitalism. I swear if he comes round my door canvassing he's in for a rollicking. No real surprise that Republican Sinn Fein aren't standing in my yard, although I'm not sure I would have bothered even if they were. They may talk the talk about 32 county socialist republics but Ruairí Ó Brádaigh has always struck me as a bit of an egomaniac who would sell his own granny for a fiver. Still, could be worse - the poor buggers in South Down not only have to live in dumps like Newcastle and Seaforde but also have a bloody UKIP candidate to contend with. Sheesh!

Elsewhere I see there is now a connection between Iron Maiden and Rangers! Walter Smith a metalhead - you couldn't make it up.

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keresaspa

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