Grumpy Old Biker

I can't sing

2010-10-07T20:01:00.000+01:00

There is very little I can remember from my early school days.

I do remember there were two red brick buildings - the smaller one for the infants and the more imposing one for the juniors. They were separated by a playground.

I can remember my first day at school with my elder brother completely disowning me, despite reassurances from my mother that he would look after me.

The toilets were unheated and outside in the far corner of the playground. In fact, I'm pretty certain the urinal bit had no roof. This was a facility I spent an awful lot of time visiting due to an embarrassingly weak bladder. My Mum said it was just nerves.

I do remember an enormous flying bug coming through the classroom window when I was in the infants. It made the most evil noise and I nearly shat myself as it whizzed around the room. I now have good reason to believe it was a hornet.

There was a time when we (as a class) were ascending the massive, polished stone stairs in strict formation, and we passed a pile of vomit. The stench was enough to start my own bile on it's upwards journey only to be thwarted at the last second by some serious intervention by me.

I was chosen to be a pirate in an ambitious school production of The Pirates of Penzance, which fuelled a lifelong love of Gilbert and Sullivan.

I can recall a foreign girl in my class. I haven't a clue where she came from but she had a funny accent and was called something like Olga. And she was disposed to frequently peeing herself. She would often exit the classroom having left a puddle under her desk, and once, during PE, we all had to step over the piss on the floor.

And as I write this, I'm starting to remember more and more, which is fun, but not my intention. However, there was one event, so mind-blowingly crucial in my life, that I don't think it has ever been surpassed in it's ability to negatively effect my whole life.

I was about nine and a new headmaster had arrived. He was Welsh and had an unfortunate stammer. And he loved singing. He loved to hear the school sing, and 'singing' quickly replaced many of the more diverse activities within the school.

Striving for perfection from the singing throng of pupils, he once did a walk-by, pausing by each of us with his ear close to our mouths as we sung our hearts out. The 'spoilers' were quickly identified and the order given that the guilty few must always mime in future. And so I started a life time of miming. And as the implications of miming grew, my hatred for his cruelty has grown also.

He was right of course. I can't sing!

Okay, there are many other 'talents' I possess, but I just can't sing. I have since learnt this is something I have in common with the delicious Stephen Fry. He has written about his grief much more eloquently than I could ever achieve, but he summed it up perfectly when he said of his inability to sing, "You can't join in".

He's right, you can't join in! I've never been able to join in singing 'Happy Birthday', at funerals I'm unable to join in, at weddings, Christmas Carols, and the very thought of a Karaoke evening would induce me to throw myself under a bus rather than attend. And the worse thing is I love music. I can hear music note perfect in my head but vocal reproduction is impossible. Singing is a sociable event, and when there's singing, I'm unsociable.

Maybe if we hadn't had a change of Headmaster I wouldn't have spent my life miming the words. It wouldn't have made me a better singer but, just maybe, I might have felt able to join in once and a while...

It shouldn't be so unfair

2010-10-04T09:36:00.002+01:00

The driving verses riding test becomes even more unfair today...

Today sees the introduction of Independent Driving/Riding, which means that the candidate will be asked to memorise a route and then follow it for 10 mins. The motorcycle candidate must be informed verbally - not via radio. This may add a significant time to the bike test with the examiner dismounting his machine and walking up to the rider to explain things. This could result in longer test times with consequentially less tests per day.

Also, as from today, the number of specific manoeuvres a car driver will be asked to perform will be halved - from 2 to 1. Bikers, with the introduction of the modular test last year, now have to perform 10 specific manoeuvres.

In addition to the above changes, the car driver has a 15 'driver faults' allowance (know colloquially as minors), whereas the biker only has an allowance of 10 on their road ride.

Since the introduction of the modular bike test, there are now 2 manouvres which are largly impossible to practice before test day - the car driver can practice everything he will be asked to do before the test.

There are significantly more car test centres than bike centres. Many riders need to ride over an hour to reach their test centre, only to be told they are not safe enough to ride a bike, and then they must ride the hour back home again.

The accident rate on test has soared for bikers, although the DSA seem reluctant to admit this. They appear to be in denial.

All this will see an increase in riders not taking a test and continuing to ride on 'L' plates without any check on their riding ability.

Anyone might think the government are attempting to drive bigger bikes off the road....

Head banging moment...

2010-10-03T17:38:00.006+01:00

I love my job...

But like all jobs, there is always the proverbial 'fly-in-the-ointment', and with my job it is the Driving Standards Agency.

Although I am a self employed motorcycle instructor, the DSA firmly believe I work for them. Sure, they are responsible for driving & riding tests and all instructors must be approved by them (which makes sense) and there are some very decent and well-intentioned people working for them, but the agency itself has lost direction...

Some parts of the motorcycle test have now deteriorated into a farce - an extremely expensive (and, dare I say it, dangerous) farce, because the DSA have spent a small fortune on the implication of a new test and one part of that test (avoidance and controlled stop) is almost impossible to practice before the test. The test is so specific the only way to practice it is to use a test centre facility at the weekend, however, to be fair, the facility is hired out to instructors for free.

Okay, what's the problem there, I hear you ask. Well, the DSA never managed to build enough of these mega expensive test centres, which leaves many people with at least an hours ride to get to one - also, trying to book a practice session is akin to finding hen's teeth in a haystack.

But, four weeks ago I managed to book two x half hour practice slots for today. It was the first time I'd managed this feat.

I duly arrived with my two students and was greeted by a DSA-appointed official who acknowledge I had the two slots booked and I was then invited to 'sign in'.

And that was when the fun went out of the day because he needed to see my 'Card'. This is like a licence issued to trainers by the DSA, and (you've guessed it) I didn't have it with me. No one, not even the DSA, had bothered to mention I would need it. I knew my certificate number which was required on the form, but he insisted, "You could be anyone".

"Ask all these other instructors standing around. They know me!"

"Sorry" (and trust me, he did actually say these very words) "It's more than my jobs worth".

Having tried a few futile attempts to talk him around, we sidled away to consider our options - which were basically just one, to go away.

After a few minutes a couple of the other instructors came up to me. Word had obviously gotten around, and they wanted to use my precious slots.

"To use them, we must have your consent as the approved instructor who has booked the slots".

"But the little man over there doesn't believe I am that person!"

"Well, he said you must give your permission".

And maybe you can see why I titled this blog as I did. Had my logic suddenly desserted me, or was this an appropriate time to bang my head against the nearest wall?

Reflections

2010-10-01T18:49:00.010+01:00

I feel like a quick recap on some of the things I might have commented on over the last 2 years - if I'd been blogging...

Russia turns off gas supply to Europe - No one saw that coming!

Barack Obama sworn in as 44th US President - A bit like Blair & Brown, no one could be worse than Bush.

Swine Flu officially declared a global pandemic - Did anyone really believe them? Well, politicians maybe.

Michael Jackson dies - Or did he???? Conspiracy theories abounded and the favourite was a faked death to escape his massive debts. How ridiculous - can anyone seriously believe that Jacko and Elvis could live together?

Barack Obama named as winner of Nobel Peace Prize 2009 - For what?

Windows 7 launched - I'm still on Vista but feel no ill effects so far.

Iceland have world's first lesbian head of government and then give us volcanic ash - There's something very odd about Iceland. This unpronounceable volcano displayed an unexpected reluctance to refrain from spewing ash into our atmosphere and the initial flight ban quickly became an obvious and embarrassing display of knee jerk overreaction.

BP spill oil into Gulf of Mexico - Oops.

Football World Cup held in South Africa - Best ever, and shows how we can hate and then learn to love something as irritating as the vuvuzela (bit like The X Factor)

Swine Flu pandemic officially declared over - Well, that was a relief...

Labour & Brown defeated - Hu-bloody-rah

Time flies

2010-10-01T09:10:00.010+01:00

A surprise email appeared in my in-box this week... Someone had stumbled upon my Blog and, somehow, felt moved to make a comment, the message implored (too strong a word?) me to write some more.

Not wishing to disappoint my new found 'follower', I considered this option for about 30 seconds before realising I no longer felt grumpy - well, at least not as grumpy as I once was. That was before I escaped the clutches of employment and became the master of my own destiny... by becoming self employed.

And that was almost 2 years ago.

And then I reflected on my motivation to 'blog' in the first place - was it because I was grumpy, or maybe cynical, a pessimist, a realist, a sceptic, or perhaps simply someone who enjoys writing a few words for his own amusement? Or a time waster?

My wife would probably opt for the latter.

I think I just like to 'get things off my chest', and on reflection, there have been many occasions over the last 2 years when I've ranted at the TV or the radio when I could have opened my Blog and purged myself by writing a few words - had a giggle at the absurdity of it all - and moved on.

Well, maybe I'll do just that from now on....

X marks the spot

2008-10-30T13:58:00.006Z

I've not watched The X Factor.

That's not strictly true, but on the rare occasions I have seen it, I'm horrified by the entire concept. These poor fools who believe that success in life is a once-only opportunity - and they believe this X Factor crap is that opportunity.

However, I stumbled on this...

I defy anyone with a soul not to fight back the tears when they watch it.

Apparently, this chap has gone on to be very successful. Quite right too.

Just fuck off Labour and leave us alone!

2008-10-22T10:34:00.016+01:00

"1984 was not an Instruction Manual"

That really cool quote from Old Holborn has kick-started me again - and obviously the distress of Grumpy Young Biker who, apparently, misses my crap blogs.

Words cannot describe how much I hate this Government and yet, every day they manage to make me hate them a little bit more.

I've never voted for Labour in my life, but the last Tory Government had me almost believing that Blair and NuLabour might be better - no one could have dreamt how much worse they could be...

I shall bow to a much better Blogger than I (Old Holborn), who had this to say recently...

Government blog warning: Repeated exposure to non-Righteous blogs might result in secondary thinking.

"Today the woodwork has literally exploded with things crawling out of it. Our Righteous overlords have now demoted smokers from 'subhuman' to 'a target'. Once we were free men. Then we were numbers. Now we are one number, all of us, collectively. We are one number that must be reduced. We are to be exterminated. Because, as you anti-smokers smiling and clapping your hands at that statement believe, we are not human. We should be made to wear nicotine-coloured badges. Off to the camps with us. ASH has the Final Solution all dusted off and ready to go again. Ah, but will we be the only ones?

I'm getting all my tobacco overseas and paying no tax on it to this government. It's bad enough being dictated to by wriggling segmented things that ooze from the decaying panels of Westmonster bars (where they can still smoke), it's bad enough that non-smokers have the right to harass and abuse me in public and I have no right to respond, it's bad enough that the only thing that now counts as litter is a cigarette end, it's bad enough that even open spaces are denied me. It's worse that I will be denied the right to smoke in my own property where nobody else is present. I will not pay them to do this to me. No more tax.

I have a mobile phone. In fact, I have two. I paid cash because they weren't expensive enough to trouble a credit card. Both are pay as you go phones and since I hate talking on phones, a small top-up lasts for months. I am not a terrorist, even though I know far more about bacterial disease than anyone in the government would consider safe. I am not a criminal. The police have no record of me. Why, then, am I to be forced to register my phone as though I were some evil threat to all humanity? To stop terrorists?

Terrorists like those who leave their bins open. Terrorists like those who send their children to school. Terrorists like those who might have a friend over. Terrorists like the staff and customers of Icelandic banks. How many real terrorists have these laws caught? I'll be generous - you can include the research student who downloaded a copy of a terrorist manual because that's what his thesis was about. Yes, include him. He's the nearest you'll get.

The smoking laws, and the coming laws to prevent eating and drinking, are not about health. The carbon-footprint junk is not about the environment. The anti-terrorist laws have nothing to do with terrorists. They are about control of the population. They don't want us to stop smoking because 'it would be good for our health'. They want to condition us to do what we are told.

Those CCTV cameras, those phone taps, the bespectacled pinstripe anencephalic scanning the Internet (now pausing for a moment to look up 'anencephalic'), the Email logs, the DNA database, ID cards, none of those things have had nor will have the slightest effect on crime or terrorism. They are not meant to.

Criminals will fake ID cards. Criminals will steal the glass you were drinking from in the pub and leave it at a crime scene so it's your DNA that shows up. Criminals will steal your phone so when the crime comes to light, it's your door that gets kicked in at 3 am, not theirs. Criminals will fake your Email address and hack into your wireless network. Once more, your door gets the boot treatment.

These measures will not stop criminals. These measures are a godsend to criminals. Remember that gun ban? That told the criminals that nobody law-abiding had a gun so it was safe to burgle anywhere. Muggers loved the knife ban. DNA database? Perfect for framing a patsy. Tracked mobile phones? Perfect - steal one and your victim gets the blame. Email tracking? Spammers fake your Email all the time. They are still active, they have not been caught, so why would the criminal using your account be any different?

The measures are not intended to catch criminals. They are intended to create them. A whole raft of new prosecutions of people who thought they had nothing to hide and therefore nothing to fear. A whole slew of unsuspecting suckers who will wake to the 3 am boot-call. These saps will be fined heavily and then thrown out until the next milking time. You might well have nothing to hide. You certainly have something to fear.

Tame first, milk later. We are being domesticated by this government so they can pull us off the streets or haul us from our beds and take money from us under the pretext of ‘fines’. These fines are put in place on the pretext of ‘anti-terror laws’. The smoking ban, the attacks on the overweight and on those who like a drink, these are the softening-up approaches.

Do what you are told. Turn against the smoker, the drinker, the fatty, the driver. Shop your neighbour for throwing away too much. Turn in that litter lout. Denounce that man who walks past the school every day on his way to work. Threaten teachers with child abuse accusations which will finish their career and stay on file forever – even if proven untrue.

Tame that population. Keep them frightened. Make sure they can’t trust each other. Don’t let them learn too much. Change the rules about what is and is not offensive every few days. Riots? The laws are in place to deal with that already. Insisting on innocence? Double the penalty if they don’t confess straight away. They’ll get the message.

Nobody is innocent. The word of the Official is Law.

And then, when you are tamed, you can be milked. Increase the fines. Turn the screw.

And when there is no more milk… well, ask a dairy farmer what happens."

Olympic Flames

2008-08-12T15:29:00.006+01:00

I just don't get it!

I hate waste. I hate polution. And I don't believe a word about Global Warming.

But what I can't get my head around is this massive Olympic Flame that burns for the whole duration of the competion. Isn't that a wanton waste of energy? Doesn't it cause a completely unnecessary dose of CO2 emissions to be unleashed into the already ailing Chinese atmosphere?

So where are all these self-righteous do-gooders when it comes to the flame?

I'll tell you where - they only spout bollocks when it suits them.

ps sorry for the break - I didn't feel very grumpy for a while.

The Siren's call

2008-07-17T10:26:00.002+01:00

You know how some things really piss you off…

Well, I can’t stand all those audible warnings that assault us daily. I’m talking here about vehicle warning sounds. I’m talking about the absurd situation where any reasonably sized vehicle emits a verbal warning to announce it’s in reverse.

To think there was a time when drivers had responsibility not to reverse over someone, and pedestrians had a similar responsibility to see a 30ton truck backing towards them. First we had the beep–beep sound but this has been replaced by a recording of some jumped-up twat calmly announcing, “Stand well clear. This vehicle is reversing”, repeated in an endless loop.

Who is this supposed to help?

Most of us can see the bloody thing, and the only additional information for those with limited sight is that it’s a lorry moving backwards rather than forwards that will mow them down – and that’s only if they can speak English. Pointless health & safety bollocks made worse because it’s seriously annoying.

And, whilst I’m on the subject, I can’t stand Emergency Vehicle sirens either.

How did they get it so wrong?

The drivers of these vehicles have a range of sounds from which to choose, each one is, apparently, to describe the severity of the situation. Unfortunately, they haven’t let us know what they mean.

But the worse thing is – you just can’t tell which direction the vehicle is coming from.

Madness! Couldn’t they test these things before introduction, or is that an insanely sensible thing to do?

At the first hint of a siren, everyone within a mile radius drives along with their eyes glued to their rear-view mirror, occasionally daring to make glances at other drivers and shrugging their shoulders as if to say, “Have you any idea which direction it’s coming from – coz I haven’t a clue”.

And when it finally arrives, what chaos ensues.

The minority who finally capture a view of the vehicle in their mirrors feel rewarded. All that anxiety has been worth it. They are, indeed, the chosen ones.

Their destiny in life is now to perform a give-way manoeuvre with as much panic as they can muster. They will slow down and form a congested queue or stop on a blind bend or mount the pavement, scattering the momentarily deafened pedestrians. I’ve yet to see more than a couple of well-considered avoidance techniques. Most appear to hinder rather than help the oncoming vehicle.

There is a known phenomenon where an Emergency Vehicle constantly leaves a smattering of minor accidents in its wake.

And isn’t it remarkable how the most hardened road user, who wouldn’t normally give an inch of space to anyone in case they achieved the unheard of and managed to get in front of them, suddenly clambers all over the road furniture to allow room for an emergency vehicle.

Do you think it’s some form of soul-cleansing exercise?

If shoes could talk…

2008-07-16T14:34:00.000+01:00

My best mate at work is Shirley.

She is my assistant, which loosely speaking, means she works for me, although my needs come way down at the bottom of the food chain if someone else needs some help from her. But that’s okay, her main contribution is to keep me sane in the ‘asylum’ we call work.

She makes me laugh, and that’s the greatest gift of all. And to be perfectly honest, she also nags me – but I accept that because I’ve grown to realise I’m the sort of person who invites that reaction. I must give the impression that my life is hopelessly beyond my control.

Sadly, she only works 2 days a week – and those days are not particularly well defined. That is to say, they’re defined well enough for Shirley, but I seldom know when I’m likely to see her again. Often, the phone rings on the morning I’m anticipating her welcome arrival, and it’s Shirley telling me the lady from the cat rescue home is coming round to ‘vet’ her suitability to adopt kittens, or some such valid reason for not making it in.

None of that’s a problem to me.

Anyway, today the phone rings and it’s her. “David, I’m in the car park and I’m stuck”.

Well, that’s a relief; at least she’s here…

“ I’ve got the heel of my shoe stuck in the dashboard, and I can’t get it out”.

Nothing about Shirley surprises me, but I struggled to anticipate the scene that would greet me as I made my way downstairs.

Indeed, her heel was stuck, but at a much reduced elevation than my mind had conjured up. It was stuck at floor level but seriously jammed into the centre console.

How she’d achieved this feat I’m not sure, but naturally, I released her. It had made my day. As I said, Shirley makes me laugh.

Farts, Shoots & CRB’s

2008-07-11T14:39:00.004+01:00

Thing with this Blogging lark is, you’re never short of something to discuss.

I’m in a dilemma today, but I couldn’t resist this ridiculous story from Argentina where ‘researchers’ are tying bloody great bags on to the backs of cattle to capture their farts. They discovered that cows account for over 30% of the country’s greenhouse gases, and methane is 23 times worse than carbon dioxide at trapping heat in the atmosphere.

Now my conclusion would be... how insignificant is man compared to this onslaught of wind, but no, they decide they should change the cattle’s diet, which I can’t believe will make a blind bit of difference.

On the other hand, I couldn’t resist a story about Brown shooting himself in the foot, (again).

Still content to stand up at the G8 summit and show the world how unfortunate we are to be blessed with him as our leader, he virtually declares war on the Nigerian rebel army.

You need to understand that Nigeria is the world’s 8th largest oil producer, so he probably thought he was onto a good scam. Unfortunately, his unilateral stance has provoked the collapse of the current ceasefire, threatened the lives of the 4,000 Britons who live there, and helped to further drive up crude oil prices on world markets.

Gee, thanks Gordon. We really needed that.

But finally, I just had to include this story, which proves beyond doubt that this country is drowning in Red Tape.

Alex Jones is 14-years-old, has cerebral palsy and is severely epileptic. Merthyr Tydfil Council commendably provide a taxi to take him to school, and his Mum has always gone with him – until recently.

Unbelievably, the Council now say she can’t accompany her son in the taxi unless she has had a CRB check – which could take up to 6 weeks to obtain.

How pathetically stupid can some people be?

I despair…

Roll up! Git ya donuts ‘ere…

2008-07-10T15:12:00.004+01:00

This would be laughable if you didn’t realise this Government actually believe they are serious politicians.

Hazel Bleary plans to introduce legislation to entice us into the Polling Stations with incentives to vote that could run from a chance to win a plasma television to a free doughnut.

Why’s that then? So they can lose by an even greater majority perhaps?

The gifts and prizes idea is one of a string of earth-shattering schemes.
Other plans include an offer of cash back to residents if a council fails to provide the services it promises. That could mean a £10 rebate if dustmen fail to collect the rubbish on schedule.

Yeah right, that doesn’t seem like fair ammunition with which to fight back. They get to ‘fine’ us £200 for putting our bin out a nanosecond too soon, and we can only claim £10 if they fail to turn up at all. That sounds like Labour’s idea of justice.

There are other bits which appear even more sinister…

In future, town halls will be able to pay high salaries to officials who are councillors elsewhere.

Oh, so they will need to ‘thought shower’ more evil ways of screwing fines out of us then.

They will also be allowed to produce political propaganda to 'support councillors'.

Surprise, surprise!

And some councillors will no longer have to turn up at meetings. Instead they will be allowed to influence them at a distance by casting an electronic 'remote vote' from home.

Silly me. I thought Local Councils were supposed to consist of local people.

Well, I'm looking forward to my doughnut at the polling station - Is it me, or does this Government look more like a Monty Python sketch every day?

Cloud cuckoo land

2008-07-09T12:34:00.004+01:00

I can’t understand how anyone can be so willing to constantly demonstrate what a complete asshole they are.

In a week when our beloved Prime Minister admonished us to eat more sensibly and waste less food, he flies off (reckless use of carbon emissions, Oh Mighty Leader) to the G8 summit in Japan, and promptly tucked into an extravagant eight-course dinner.

And they were there to discuss the world food shortage? Twats!

He then stands up and insists that all petrol-driven cars should be off the road within 12 years, to be replaced by electric or hybrid engines.

The man is clearly off his trolley…

It was only a few months ago he insisted that bio fuels were the answer – and what an unmitigated disaster that idea has proved to be.

So where does he imagine all this electrical power will come from?

Dear Gordon, if I can do some research, why can’t you? For example, if you covered the windiest 10% of the country with windmills – which would double the entire fleet of all wind turbines in the world - we could only generate enough power for us all to drive about 20 miles a day.

And if you don’t believe that fact, read this.

Stelvio and (thankfully) back

2008-07-08T16:00:00.008+01:00

Phew! Made it back!

That was 2670 miles in 10 days that took in 7 counties and at least 5 Alpine passes including the famous Stelvio and Grossglockner Passes.

Glad to get back for a rest…

Despite a couple of vertigo attacks, it was bloody fantastic. Everywhere we went the roads were brilliant, everywhere we went other road users were bike friendly, everywhere was clean, and everywhere the roads felt safer than they do in this country – well, apart from the sheer drops with nothing to stop you plummeting 10.000ft to certain death.

One impression I’ve brought back is how far this country has generally dropped behind the rest, particularly with our road safety. I’m convinced the last 10 years of our speed centric road policy has introduced a decline in driving skills. Over there, drivers seem more aware and more tolerant and they are able to use speed sensibly.

Talking of which, aren’t those Autobahns brilliant? Nice to stretch the bike’s legs once in a while.

I took this picture from the top of the Stelvio Pass - and you can't even see most of the 48 hairpin bends!!

It was a queezy moment taking that shot and the thought of getting on the bike to ride down was not immediately appealing, but I did it and it was great fun. I think.

Bye bye loneliness...

2008-06-27T12:26:00.004+01:00

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

2008-06-26T15:24:00.001+01:00

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

2008-06-25T11:45:00.003+01:00

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?

2008-06-24T08:43:00.003+01:00

NO! NO! NO!

A skirt please, Maria.

Another of my sad little pleasures - gone...

Objects of desire

2008-06-23T15:12:00.004+01:00

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

2008-06-22T22:09:00.002+01:00

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

2008-06-21T21:46:00.006+01:00

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…

2008-06-20T14:51:00.003+01:00

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!

2008-06-19T21:53:00.002+01:00

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

2008-06-18T13:49:00.005+01:00

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

2008-06-17T11:21:00.009+01:00

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

2008-06-16T11:19:00.007+01:00

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

2008-06-15T22:07:00.007+01:00

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

2008-06-14T22:07:00.005+01:00

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

2008-06-13T11:30:00.004+01:00

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

2008-06-12T13:42:00.003+01:00

HEAR, BLOODY HEAR!!!

A shorty today - but David Davis says it all.

It almost restores your faith in politicians...

42

2008-06-11T11:59:00.005+01:00

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.

2008-06-10T11:35:00.003+01:00

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...

2008-06-09T10:22:00.004+01:00

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

2008-06-08T07:17:00.006+01:00

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)

2008-06-07T21:09:00.005+01:00

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

2008-06-06T20:54:00.010+01:00

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.