A Great Man

As per the graphic at the bottom of my blog, I feel a need to remember a man who through a humourous medium made some highly salient points.

Bill Hicks (click link for his rant on the positive influence of drugs) died on February 26th 1994 from pancreatic cancer at the age of 32.

It was a sad loss to the world.

He can be seen in any number of audio and video recordings. Of which (in my opinion) the best are: 'Arizona Bay' and 'Rant in E Minor'. These make me laugh even first thing on a monday morning.

While Bill was (contrary to popular belief) politically oriented more towards the right than the left, he was not afraid to openly criticise the humourously woeful parts of republican right wing. Many thinkers who are centre or right seem to shy away from this (for example the esteemed Mr Jackart....I have this argument with him in the pub all too regularly) possibly in fear of attracting the leperesque 'leftist' label. Though of course, leperosy is vastly preferable to such political cancer.

Bill......the world misses you.

Utter, utter bastards!

I just read THIS and I cannot contain the rage.

You whinging stalinist cuntstains, how dare you interfere with other peoples lives in such a fashion?! I took a shit this morning that made more sense than this.

I am so angry at the sheer unbridled fuckwittery of these people that I feel close to tears. Will somebody please tell me that these spiteful, leftist, little dogs tonkers will never gain any real influence or power.

And as for the spokeswoman.....my dear you may have a twat like a wizards sleeve but don't inflict your kipper-scented celibate misery on the rest of us.

The Beautiful Game

No I am not in any way referring to football. While I dearly love football, it pains me to see it played by the most worthless, subhuman rats one can imagine (watch rugby if you want to see real men play a real sport).

I am of course referring to chess......yes that's correct....chess. For those who have never met me; I do not have a beard or an aversion to physical exercise. I am fortunate enough to be a formidable physical specimen and yet able to engage my brain where necessary.

After taking up chess at the age of 7 I have been surprised again and again by the sheer addictive qualities of the game. (For those who have never indulged) chess is the ultimate in one on one competitive gaming, for a beaten opponent is a wonderful thing.

I always find that playing chess brings out the testosterone fuelled alpha male in me even more than putting the gloves on and boxing....its pure ego. Beating somebody across the chess board is forcibly telling them....I'm better than you. Nothing rivals chess for its ability to produce a perfectly rounded masterpiece of strategy, tactics, and pure intuitive instinct.

For those of you who have never analysed this...please indulge yourselves in the 'immortal game'.

A Very Chinless Wonder

Imagine a man who compulsively covers things in sticky backed plastic, who has his own tankard in his local before the age of 30, who habitually goes running (in public) in a lime green leotard.

Imagine a cyclist who terrorises helpless motorists, a man who thinks boiled vegetables should be a daily occurence, and who is unable to sit through any film without naming and waxing lyrical on every piece of military apparatus.

Now imagine sharing a flat with the fucker!

The Almighty Terence

Britain has long believed that it would never see a greater man than Churchill. For years this has held true.....until now. Councillor Terry Kelly is a gentleman and a scholar, an individual of such towering intellect that he has an entirely independent website devoted to his works.

I will admit to political views that are slightly right of centre, and also taking a dim view of the spiteful disease that is socialism. However, to all those who have ever voted or even considered voting to the left; I give you....Terence.

Read it and weep....this man alone justifies a Conservative vote.

Whats in a name?

I have recently been questioned with regards to both parts of my blog title:

Why have I taken part of a line from Coleridge?

Why do I have what appears to be a racist slogan underneath?

Firstly, I love Coleridge but thats not why I chose it. Read 'A miracle of rare device' by Ray Bradbury and try to understand why this beautiful story finally instilled in me an unbreakable faith in the beauty of written english.

Secondly,.........pull your head out of your arse and accept that it is possible to words use like "white" and "black" without any reference to skin colour. 'Holding the thin white line....' is a sporting reference with relevance to only a select few.