Bye bye loneliness...

Well, that’s it then – off to Austria now…

But before I go, my parting shot - I love Blogs, I love Blogging, but I’m asking myself, will I carry on with this on my return?

All I wanted was at least one person (who didn’t know me) to post a comment – or at least read something I’d written, but nothing… zilch! nada! bugger-all!

It’s not that I’ve not been pro-active. I’ve made loads of linked comments on other Blogs. They’re like bait, tempting others to click-and-visit before I reel them in to the wonders of my grumpyness. But perhaps my offers of dry bread failed to hook like a juicy worm might.

Of course, there must be thousands out there just like me, who type away daily, sniggering at their own subtle wit and willing others to share the brilliance as it falls from the keyboard. Thousands out there whose words fall on barren soil, (either that or they’re all crap like me).

Still, I don’t do this for adoration. I do this becoz it helps to relieve some frustration, which otherwise my wife has to listen to – and all my friends – and work colleagues – and that bloke who works at the fuel station…

So, who knows?

Now I’m off to Austria on my bike, and before I go – a big thank you to all my readers. That’s my wife and my 3 friends (that is, the 3 that have bothered to type in my site address - not the rest of you bastards who won't read this coz you can't be arsed).

I love you, fans.

Disability Dolls

I’m not often stuck for an opinion, but this one’s really tricky…

My first reaction to “disability dolls”, and specifically the Down’s Syndrome version, was one of disbelief. It all sounds slightly sick, especially considering this is one in a range, which includes hairless dolls – “Chemo Friends” – for children undergoing chemotherapy.

You can also buy dolls with prosthetic limbs, walking frames, hearing aids, and “blind” dolls complete with guide dogs.

These dolls apparently sell well, so somebody is buying them, but I bet it’s not the children.

No one sees themselves as they are, and who needs a reminder every time they pick up a doll? After all, who looks like a Barbie Doll with her breasts to die for and legs that go on forever? Dolls are a fantasy (at least they are for me), and I’m sure I find these slightly patronising and I suspect they’re a creation of the well-intentioned but utterly misguided people that ‘know what’s best for everyone’.

What think you?

Tunbridge Wells Desert

Local Councils are fast becoming the curse of the 21st century…

Admittedly, they’ve been gifted some extraordinary new powers by Central Government and, like the adolescent coming of age, they have little idea how to use their new found freedom and routinely act to excess.

They find ever-increasing ways to ‘fine’ us – sometimes completely ignoring the law. They find ridiculous excuses to ban things that people enjoy and which hold communities together.

They flout the law on surveillance and generally treat people with contempt. The list is endless.

And I can’t for the life of me understand their agenda. Unfortunately, this little story does little to enlighten me…

Tunbridge Wells Council have now banned the expression ‘brainstorming’ and in future, meetings to generate new ideas will be referred to as ‘thought showers’.

Councillors are concerned ‘brainstorming’ may be offensive to epileptics – and this is despite a survey by the National Society for Epilepsy, which concluded with a resounding No. It certainly wasn’t deemed offensive at all.

Unsurprisingly, the Council believe they know best and issued a very ‘telling’ statement.

“We take diversity issues very seriously.”

We take talking bollocks very seriously, more like!

Well, if this is an example of their ‘thought showers’, they obviously live in an arid desert.

Is nothing sacred?

NO! NO! NO!

A skirt please, Maria.


Another of my sad little pleasures - gone...

Objects of desire

This story caught my eye – not because it’s headline news but because it’s another example of the ridiculous state the people have let their country degenerate into.

50-year-old Rob McCaffery loves buses – he must do, he’s been travelling the world for the last forty years taking pictures of them.

And guess which is the only country where the public and the police take offence… Bingo, you’ve got it in one. Here he’s been accused of being a terrorist and paedophile.

It’s all to do with that dreaded Section 44 of the Terrorism Act 2000, where police officers may randomly stop people who wantonly go around wielding that most evil piece of equipment – a camera.

And it seems Joe Public just loves to call the police – but why?

Why have people so warmly embraced the mentality that everyone is breaking the law some way or other, and love to go around spotting evildoers?

Just chill out will you. For some inexplicable reason you’re endorsing this Government as they systematically go about destroying this country.

It's no mean feet

Disaster has struck...

This whole business of packing your bike for an epic trip is fraught with worry. I know what McGregor and Boorman went through now.

I’ve spent all day doing it, apart from about 3 hours polishing the bike so it looks really cool. And what happens this evening?

Well I’ll tell you what – I’ve got Athlete’s Foot!

I now have 4 days to cure it coz there’s no way I can fit the tube of ointment in the bike.

I don’t remember Ewan or Charlie having these sort of problems!

Heavy Petting

Oh how easily I get distracted...

I’m off to Austria on Friday, and the twin emotions of panic and excitement are starting to kick in. This promises to be an awesome biking holiday. Not quite ‘Road of Bones’ stuff but heaps of Alpine passes to keep the adrenaline pumping.

The Fireblade is a sports bike, (and what a sports bike!), and storage space is barely sufficient to carry a collapsible toothbrush. Decisions are firmly based on what not to take, and only essentials can go - sunglasses obviously, and maybe bike polish.

Anyway, a search for some photographic enhancement to this post very quickly revealed a remarkable fact. A fact that tickled my immature, schoolboy sense of humour.

We will be staying somewhere between Kissing and Fucking.

Oh how I wish it was called Heavy Petting...but that would be ridiculous.

Ps how could I have lived so long, and never knew there was a town in Austria called Fucking?

And now the traffic news…

You know how some things really piss you off...

Today it’s BBC Radio traffic news.

It’s not that I don’t think they’re incredibly useful things, no, what gets me about them, is their abject refusal to acknowledge that anything ever occurs with any form of human intervention. They always appear to place the blame firmly at the wheels of the vehicles.

How often do we hear the expression, “A lorry has turned over”?

Well I’m sorry, call me naïve if you must, but I refuse to believe that lorries ‘just turn over’. Surely it was due to the gross incompetence of the driver, wasn’t it? Lorries look pretty damn stable things to me.

Why not say, “A driver has somehow managed to turn his lorry over and because of his incompetence, all you unlucky motorists will have a pig’s ear of a wait.”

Here’s one that really gets me: “A lorry has shed its load.”

Nope. The lorry didn’t ‘shed its load’. This is not some form of reptilian behaviour. The incompetent charged with driving that vehicle, failed to ensure that the load was secure. That’s what really happened.

And what about “A vehicle has spilt diesel”?

NO! The vehicle didn’t spill it – the idiot driver did!

If I wrote the traffic news, I wouldn’t let the vehicle take the blame. No way, Jose, I’d tell the truth. This would be my report…

”Some moron has failed to master one of the most basic tasks associated with driving a motor vehicle. This person clearly does not possess the modicum of intelligence required to re-fuel a vehicle such that on the first occasion he deviates from a straight-line he doesn’t dump a sea of diesel on the road, thereby endangering the wellbeing of hundreds of motorists – ESPECIALLY MOTORCYCLISTS, YOU ASSHOLE!”

Yeah. That’s what I’d say…

Bugger - Germany won!

Well, that’s 2 weeks of this Blogging lark and I’ve just had a moment of reflection.

I had a great moan about the DSA all lined up (not a difficult challenge, I admit. Like all Government departments, they’re an easy target), but then I wondered who was going to read it.

Weird thing this Blogging – you could be talking to millions, or perhaps a couple of sympathetic friends who reluctantly accepted my site address as I forced it into their hands.

So, I ask myself – what’s the point?

Actually, that’s all a lie – I’m watching the football and I can’t be arsed to write anything...

Don't ask me - I only work here

I love going to work…

It’s when I get there the fun seems to stop.

This week I was told that a new ‘Electronic Change Request’ system will be brought on-line in 10 days time – and would I like to have a look at it?

Bloody right I would!

This is a major part of my job - and they’re replacing a totally foolproof semi-paper system that has never failed in 20 years, with an electronic system doomed to make more work and be less efficient.

It might surprise you to learn there were massive gaping holes in the system, and when I asked Mr IT why, he said no one had told him these things were required.

And how many times do you think I was consulted during the ‘design’ of this system? I’ll give you a clue - it’s a nice round number less than 1.

Just in case you’re thinking of me as the office dinosaur, we had a similar attempt at ‘improving’ another process about a year ago – and that ended up in the waste bin (metaphorically speaking, because we don't have any of those).

Cute and Yucky

You know how some things really piss you off...

Well that sign is one of them.

That particular variant of the ‘20’s Plenty’ theme is the one propagating around my area. Are these things designed by children? Is this country now leaving Road Safety signage in the hands of toddlers? And what does ‘20 is plenty’ mean?

Plenty for what? It’s like saying a digestive biscuit is enough, which rather depends on how hungry you are. 20mph could well be plenty when children are running around but not when the road’s clear and conditions are good. Drivers are remarkably good at adjusting their speed for the conditions.

In any case, the whole argument that driving at 20mph is safer than 30mph is flawed.

A report - produced by the Parliamentary Advisory Council for Transport Safety (Pacts) - claimed that a default speed of 20mph in built-up areas would halve the number of deaths on Britain's roads over the next few years.

That is complete bollocks. In the UK, less than 30% of deaths occur on urban roads and about 15% of deaths are pedestrians and cyclists, so a total elimination of deaths in 20/30mph zones could never halve the overall figures.

Pacts also suggest that 20mph speed limits would make it safer for people to walk or cycle and subsequently reduce the amount of traffic on the roads. I’d love to know how they reached that conclusion.

Also, what Pacts fails to explain are the DfT accident figures for 2006, which show that there were more people killed or seriously injured in 20mph zones than 30mph zones. If you get to the point where a speed limit feels unnatural, it affects a driver’s attention, and that is a far bigger killer than exceeding speed limits, which only accounts for 5% of deaths.


Anyway, look at this scene...


Apart from the 2 misguided souls standing too close to the road (and facing away from on-coming traffic) – where are the hazards? Why are they suggesting that 20 is plenty there?

I’m sorry guys, you can’t cheat the facts no matter how cute you make the road signs.

Terrorism 1: Nu-Labour 0

Three pensioners were stopped at Heathrow by five Met Police officers and accused of breaching airport bylaws. After questioning, they were warned they would be arrested if they returned within 24 hours.


The reason? Well clearly it’s because they had been ‘seen in the bus terminal wearing inflammatory clothes’.

And the police knew a demonstration against an extra runway was taking place in the threatened village of Sipson.

Well done Blair & Brown. Your pitiful excuse for a Government has done more to curb people’s freedoms and civil liberties than any terrorist organisation could ever hope to achieve.

You have willingly handed over the Winner’s Trophy.

Dartmoor 1: Nanny State 0

Still feeling knackered...

But now I’ve had time to reflect on our trip to Dartmoor.

The whole thing was brilliant – but there was definitely a distinct ‘low’ point and one ‘high’ point.

The ‘low’ was in Torquay. For some reason known only to them-selves, the Police had closed the main road through town and the place was in grid-lock. Our run leader knew the town and we took a diversion up narrow, twisting side roads, slowly weaving our way past virtually static traffic.

It was a torturous route and at one point I was edging my way past a car when he moved across to block my way.

“You’re not coming through here” he declared through his open window.

“But why not? I’m a bike – that’s what bikes do. I’m not pushing in and I’ll be gone and out your way.” I reasoned.

“That’s nothing to do with me” was his reply, tinged with a distinct lack of logic, and with that he moved forward and closed my gap even more. This ridiculous manoeuvre meant he had gone past me and enabled me to go behind him and use the massive gap he had now created on his other side.

Twat.

My ‘high’ may seem strange to most, and not just because it’s completely un-bike related. We had stopped for our cream teas at a quaint little tearoom in Widecomb-in-the-Moor. Having refuelled the body, it was time to visit the loos. And as I write this, I realise how weird this sounds, but my delight was simply because I was met by a communal toilet.

Okay, not what you’re thinking. To me, this is a wonderful kick-in-the-teeth to the great British obsession with prudery. I’ve never see it before in this country. Normally, we’re herded as far apart from each other as possible. I honestly wouldn’t have thought it was legal in this Nanny State we live in.

And to find it in a little tearoom in the middle of Dartmoor...

Brilliant!

Dartmoor Dash

I'm knackered...

Today I rode my Fireblade to Dartmoor for a cream tea. It was 355 miles round trip and I ache a bit, with little inspiration to write anything coherent.

I love riding, I love bikes, I love my Fireblade. xxxx

TESCO - very little helps

You know how some things really piss you off…

Lunchtime, for most working people, has to be planned with military precision, especially if it involves a trip to the shops. If this includes a ‘flying visit’ to Tescos for a sandwich you can always assume things will not go well.

It’s not just the fact that Tescos appear to have adopted a policy of opening at least half as many checkouts than are actually needed.

It’s not just that pensioners choose lunchtime to go shopping – bless them. But why does it always come as a shock to them when, after the painfully accurate packing away of their goods into their wheeled shopping bags, they now need to find their purse – which is usually hidden away under said items?

It’s not even that this is the time when other members of staff choose to do their own shopping. Not that they appear to buy much – it’s just an opportunity to catch up on the gossip with the checkout girls. The ultra slow scanning technique doesn’t fool us. No, we all know the laboriously slow process is a well-established routine, which excruciatingly prolongs the chat time.

No, the thing that’s really got to me at my local Tesco Metro happens at the Customer Service Counter. (Now there’s a misnomer if ever there was one).

Up until a few weeks ago, there was a polite notice requesting that no more than 5 items should be taken to this checkout – which seemed fair enough. This has now been replaced by a large, officious looking notice proclaiming; “Strictly No More Than 2 Items”.

And the Staff have welcomed this with Hitleresque enthusiasm. Rarely a day goes by when I don’t hear an argument break out.

People, laughingly called customers, may buy as many tobacco, CD, DVD and lottery products as they wish – but heaven help them if they turn up with more than 2 items in their basket.

So where’s the logic in this Mr Duty Manager? Is it more efficient to make people queue twice? Is it better to waste everyone’s time by making Staff vilify errant customers who only want to buy a sandwich, a packet of crisps, a bottle of pop and a packet of fags? Perhaps your plan is to make people buy less!

If you really want to save everyone’s time – stop selling those bloody scratch cards which seem to take an eternity to process through the till.

42 - again

HEAR, BLOODY HEAR!!!

A shorty today - but David Davis says it all.

It almost restores your faith in politicians...

42

42 days is the Ultimate Answer, or so Gordon Brown-Nose would have us all believe.

(Dear Douglas Adams – how we miss you, but your legacy will live forever!)

Today is an important day for Gordon, but more so, it’s an important day for British liberty. Today sees the vote in the Commons on the 42-day detention limit.

The Conservatives, Lib Dems and about 30 Labour MPs oppose the 42-day extension, but the result is expected to be so close that Gordon is now offering to buy off the nine Democratic Unionist Party MPs. And he’s made so many compromises with caveats to his Labour rebels, that the Bill will be unworkable anyway.

Some of those rebels who know this Bill is wrong in principle, will vote for it solely to save further damage to Gordon and the party. Such is politics today!

This Bill should be defeated and I hope it will, but I think Gordon will win.

And finally, a further tribute to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. As I write this I’m reminded of The Whale, whose words could so easily be those of our Prime Minister…

“Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I?”

Watch out! The Congestion Shark's about.

Surprise! Surprise! Ruth Kelly announces ‘green light’ for Manchester Congestion Charge – as if it was ever in any doubt.

Interestingly, local Labour MPs are now dead against it. Again, huge surprise here, they actually believe it may harm their chances at the next General Election… Really?

Now I’m going to stick my neck out – I don’t believe that congestion (as in approaching a regular grid lock situation) can ever truly exist. It will always be self-regulating.

And the simple ways to ease traffic flow are blindingly obvious.

1. School buses. Loads of them. Ever notice how much less the traffic is when the kids aren’t at school?
2. Abolish bus lanes. Any piece of unused tarmac is wasted space.
3. Massive reduction in the number of traffic lights. In the Dutch town of Drachten, removing 24 sets of traffic lights halved typical journey times and also reduced accidents.

But what do I know…

Sorry - I don't have a clue...

Today, Barry Cryer raises the question we’ve all been dreading the answer to – will I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue continue without Humph?

For millions, it was clearly the end of an era when Humphrey Lyttelton died on April 25th.

I grew up listening to this programme. I’ve been married, divorced, married and conceived two fantastic children whilst listening to this programme – okay, obviously not literally.

I’ve always had the insanity of it to keep me sane.

We all knew this time would come, we all knew that Humph wasn’t immortal, and deep down, we all knew the programme should end when the inevitable happened.

But maybe I’m not so sure now…

So, while Samantha nips out to enjoy a portion of winkles in cider before going off to work as a qualified croupier at an exclusive Soho club, where gamblers pay top money to play roulette all day and poker all night, let’s spare a thought for those who have to make that decision.

The strange logic of the Scameras

Dorset Safety Camera Partnership have come up with some strange logic.

As part of its commitment to road safety - you just can't help laughing, can you? - they are reducing the use of safety camera warning signs.

They argue that less signs will reduce speeding.

Of course, what they're really saying is that they will do anything to raise cash from perfectly safe drivers who drift over the limit when the conditions are appropriate.

But we all know that anyway.

DSA (1)

I failed my Hazard Perception Test last week...

This nonsense is part of the Theory Test that all budding new drivers must pass before they are allowed to take a Driving Test. I was sitting it as part of the qualification to join the DSA Register of Post Test Motorcycle Trainers - more on that later.

The Hazard Perception Test consists of showing 14 'real life' video clips and when a hazard develops the candidate clicks the mouse button to register a score. The score ranges from 5 down to 0. Thirteen clips have one hazard and one clip has two hazards. All the hazards are pre-staged by the DSA.

Let me say, whoever came up with this idea, it was brilliant. Sadly, the reality is complete rubbish.

The moment of clicking determines your score and these moments have been identified by an expert. The DSA tell the candidate they only have one chance on each video clip because we only get one chance out on the road. A true but slightly smug statement. But I'd bet my house, my life savings and my favourite cat that the 'expert' looks at the clips more than once before identifying the max score point.

The test is a lottery. Class 1 police drivers have failed the test. I haved failed the test. I hate it.

And the humiliation of standing in a room full of spotty adolescents and hearing the women announce the passes before turning to me with a sheepish look.

And if this test is so bloody important to our survival out on the road, why was I allowed to walk away with my failure, get back on my bike, and ride home?

Waste Bins

The day they confiscated our waste bins at work was a turning point for me.

There was the smug look on the face of the confiscator and his assistant. A smug look that acknowledged we would all hate the changes but it was for the good-of-the-planet.

My company was going 'green'.

So they took away the bins from every desk and these were replaced by two central containers - one for paper and one for waste. These containers had to be strategically placed in the middle of the offices and as far from every desk as possible. The theory was that the effort of walking to the new bins would make us all think about the necessity of throwing stuff away. Yeah, right. As if I'd walk halfway to the bin before considering whether I needed to throw my empty crisp packet away. And that's when I realised the true extent that 'bollocks' is infiltrating our everyday activities.

My company isn't 'green'. This was a feel-good thing. They felt good despite creating massive inefficiency.

Resourceful as ever, some people hid their bins during the purge, but out-of-hours raids soon discovered these. Some people use old cardboard boxes hidden under their desks and some just throw paper on the floor. All the plastic waste bins were thrown in the skip, (oh, such wonderful irony) and within a few weeks they ordered a load of new ones for use in the factory. Factory workers are metaphorically chained to their work stations and mustn't wander off.

And so began my journey into grumpyness and I've ended up here.