No, this isn't a rant about the money-hole scheme New Labour is concocting to keep tabs on us. Although, I've a good mind to start putting that one together soon. Rather, this rant concerns a situation I got myself into last night at a local pub.
A bit of background is prehaps necessary to begin with. I'm not a "clubby" type of person, knob-heads rubbered off their faces dancing to shite music does not a good night out make. I'd much prefer to relax with a few mates and a pint in a pub, rather that subject myself to the deluge of visual / audio diarrhoea at any of the city centre clubs. So, yesterday, after completing my last semester exams we headed out to this nice little pub we frequent every so often. On the way in, no one "hit us" for ID - the Bouncers just let us on in (Which is unsual, because although I'm 20, I always get asked for my ID. It's just plain embarrassing).
After a number of pints, a phone call had to be made and so I left the pub to use the phone booth just outside the bar. Now, on the way out (generally being the friendly sort) I said "hey" to the Bouncer, asked him how it was going and all that. Remember this.
After using the phone, I attempted to go back inside the pub only to be stopped by the same Bouncer I had just literally spoken to. The conversation as follows:
-"You got ID?"
-"Uh, I just walked past you on the way out of the bar. I needed to use the phone."
-"I don't give a fuck. ID?"
-"Tell you what, I've just left my ID inside in a rucksack with my friends. I'll go back inside and bring it out and show you. Alright?"
-"Aye hurry fuckin' up."
So, after getting past this fucking dolt, I decided, "Fuck'em". I wasn't going to go back inside the bar I had just left to find ID to verify my legality to this ignorant knuckle dragging wanker. So I went back inside, found my friends and finished my drink.
About 20 minutes later a hand lands on my shoulder:
-"Here, dickhead, ID?" - at this stage I burst out laughing at the guy.
-"I can't believe you actually came back in here to look for me. Why not hit every body at the table for ID? Or is it just me?"
-"Just you."
So I produced a Student Card, which I wanted to cram up the guys nostril (Although I was under no illusion that he could have ripped my arms off and beat me to death with them.) - which he didn't accept, just to be an awkward cunt. So then followed an Electoral ID Card and a provisional licence. I get the impression that this raging mongoloid was not going to believe me unless I produced a signed and verified birth certificate and fucking a full DNA profile and had it not been for the intervention of a bar-maid that I'm friendly with, I dare say this dick head would have thrown me out of the place. Just to excert his position in a feat of supreme ego-wankery.
Unfuckingbelievable.
Tuesday 22 May 2007
Friday 18 May 2007
Surprise Surprise.
So, aye, New Labour in 1997 had all these ambitions to "make the machinery of Government more transparent and open". This goal rings just about as true as Blair's boasting about pursuing an "ethical" foreign policy. So, in order to make the machinery of government more transparent New Labour introduced "the Freedom of Information Act" in 2000 (mind you, it wasn't operative until 2005).
"Oh, it'll foster a flourishing civil society and make us more open to scrutiny" was the official line about the reform. Here's the long title of the Act:
"An Act to make provision for the disclosure of information held by public authorities or by persons providing services for them and to amend the Data Protection Act 1998 and the Public Records Act 1958; and for connected purposes."
Yet the Act has a list the length of my arm (and it's very long) of "exemption situations" wherein the Govt. doesn't have to disclose information should the request for information relate to any of these "exempted areas". Needless to say, these areas touch upon conventional issues such as national security and policing etc etc. but the Act also provides for any Minister to effectively step in and refuse to disclose information on any topic they choose. Furthermore, today, the Govt. has succeeded in getting David Maclean's private member bill advocating the amending of the Act to effectively exclude Ministerial/MP's correspondence and financial details back onto the Parliamentry agenda.
This gets on my tits immensely. Back tracking and watering down of legislation originally enacted to reform the governmental system by New Labour isn't a new thing. Just look at the 2000 "Parties, Elections and Referenda" Act and how New Labour dodged the fucking bullet over that by getting not "donations" from those seeking peerages, but "loans". Sneaky cunts - because that Act only allows for "Donations" over £5,000 to be declared.
Ugh. Today goes from bad to fucking worse with every passing hour.
"Oh, it'll foster a flourishing civil society and make us more open to scrutiny" was the official line about the reform. Here's the long title of the Act:
"An Act to make provision for the disclosure of information held by public authorities or by persons providing services for them and to amend the Data Protection Act 1998 and the Public Records Act 1958; and for connected purposes."
Yet the Act has a list the length of my arm (and it's very long) of "exemption situations" wherein the Govt. doesn't have to disclose information should the request for information relate to any of these "exempted areas". Needless to say, these areas touch upon conventional issues such as national security and policing etc etc. but the Act also provides for any Minister to effectively step in and refuse to disclose information on any topic they choose. Furthermore, today, the Govt. has succeeded in getting David Maclean's private member bill advocating the amending of the Act to effectively exclude Ministerial/MP's correspondence and financial details back onto the Parliamentry agenda.
This gets on my tits immensely. Back tracking and watering down of legislation originally enacted to reform the governmental system by New Labour isn't a new thing. Just look at the 2000 "Parties, Elections and Referenda" Act and how New Labour dodged the fucking bullet over that by getting not "donations" from those seeking peerages, but "loans". Sneaky cunts - because that Act only allows for "Donations" over £5,000 to be declared.
Ugh. Today goes from bad to fucking worse with every passing hour.
Friday 4 May 2007
Bom chicka dick-heads.
I assume you've all seen it. You've heard it, I'm sure, blasted out of a mobile phone from the back of the bus, perforating your ear drum and making you want to machine gun the fuck out of everything. Yes, Bom Chicka Wah Wah really has got on my tits so much that I want to pile-drive a small child onto a concrete floor.
Actually, Lynx has been getting on my tits now for awhile - I suppose ever since I realised that every wee smicker-bop and ne'er do well generously applies it to cover the smell of teenage delinquency. In particular though, it's the way this shite is marketed and advertised that really gets me.
It's targetted at the 16-20 demographic, with adverts displaying some average looking Joe Blogs (Not, mind you, the burberry clad wankers that usually buy it) simply giving it a spray and finding himself overcome with attractive women, all scrambling for his scrawny teenage form. Ask any women you know, dear reader, what they think of Lynx. Go on. Responses range from mere indifference to outright disgust. Although it's usually disgust. These ads are a slap in the face to women everywhere (like most modern advertising) and are an insult to every mans intelligence. Here's the essence of a Lync ad: Yes, spray this. It will gain you positive female attention. No, dear boy, don't worry about engaging the young ladies in conversation or showing interest in their existence beyond that of sexual objectivity.
Buying into this does not make you a "babe-magnet" Dear Reader, it makes you a fuckin' sucker. For, what better way is there to throw hard earned cash (ok, £2.49) out the fucking window than by purchasing a body spray that simply says "I'm too young to shave or know any better.". This won't attract women, not unless you're actively looking for Pamela Rogers. But she's in jail now, so tough tittie. In fact, not only won't they attract women, but it'll highlight to the world that you're a bit of a simply numpty that likes having their mind subjected to offensive marketing schemes.
I guess it's just going to be a sad fact of the future that insipid viral marketing schemes are going to contine to irritate the fuck outta me through ring-tones, ads, etc etc. They're at their most annoying when they manage to penetrate into the mass consciousness - once normally docile sheepish types suddenly become hyper-active, walking loud speakers spewing corperate buzzwords like there's no tomorrow.
So, Dear Reader, after reading this little splurge about whats irritated me so, the next time some fucknut utters the phrase "Bom Chicka Wah Wah" at you or in your presence, simply look them in the eye and say: "Nah! Bom Chicka Dick-Head!" and walk on.
Actually, Lynx has been getting on my tits now for awhile - I suppose ever since I realised that every wee smicker-bop and ne'er do well generously applies it to cover the smell of teenage delinquency. In particular though, it's the way this shite is marketed and advertised that really gets me.
It's targetted at the 16-20 demographic, with adverts displaying some average looking Joe Blogs (Not, mind you, the burberry clad wankers that usually buy it) simply giving it a spray and finding himself overcome with attractive women, all scrambling for his scrawny teenage form. Ask any women you know, dear reader, what they think of Lynx. Go on. Responses range from mere indifference to outright disgust. Although it's usually disgust. These ads are a slap in the face to women everywhere (like most modern advertising) and are an insult to every mans intelligence. Here's the essence of a Lync ad: Yes, spray this. It will gain you positive female attention. No, dear boy, don't worry about engaging the young ladies in conversation or showing interest in their existence beyond that of sexual objectivity.
Buying into this does not make you a "babe-magnet" Dear Reader, it makes you a fuckin' sucker. For, what better way is there to throw hard earned cash (ok, £2.49) out the fucking window than by purchasing a body spray that simply says "I'm too young to shave or know any better.". This won't attract women, not unless you're actively looking for Pamela Rogers. But she's in jail now, so tough tittie. In fact, not only won't they attract women, but it'll highlight to the world that you're a bit of a simply numpty that likes having their mind subjected to offensive marketing schemes.
I guess it's just going to be a sad fact of the future that insipid viral marketing schemes are going to contine to irritate the fuck outta me through ring-tones, ads, etc etc. They're at their most annoying when they manage to penetrate into the mass consciousness - once normally docile sheepish types suddenly become hyper-active, walking loud speakers spewing corperate buzzwords like there's no tomorrow.
So, Dear Reader, after reading this little splurge about whats irritated me so, the next time some fucknut utters the phrase "Bom Chicka Wah Wah" at you or in your presence, simply look them in the eye and say: "Nah! Bom Chicka Dick-Head!" and walk on.
Thursday 3 May 2007
A message to The Masses.
Alright. Listen up. You, the unwashed multitude who so insidiously populate this planet like the quickly spreading bed-sore on an NHS patients arse, will find amongst these ponderances and warblings, a vision quite unlike your own. For your vision is akin to a drunken clown, stumbling aimlessly and squinting at the bright lights of true culture that hang oh so very far above your tiny little minds.
My vision, the true vision, shines like the halo above Baby Jesus' head. No more true than my vision can you get. Its Illuminating and bathing your filthy existence in a radiant light of knowledge and absoluteness you should embrace (if your feeble consciousness can compute its awesomeness) as it will, my dim witted reader, offer you a glimpse into the realm of the superior class of which I am a member.
So, remove your caps in humility, gather at my feet, listen to my words and try and glean some of the reflected glory, you simple peasant folk.
P.S - I hate "blogging" and "bloggers" and right now I could swallow my keyboard due to the self contempt I feel for allowing myself to become one.
My vision, the true vision, shines like the halo above Baby Jesus' head. No more true than my vision can you get. Its Illuminating and bathing your filthy existence in a radiant light of knowledge and absoluteness you should embrace (if your feeble consciousness can compute its awesomeness) as it will, my dim witted reader, offer you a glimpse into the realm of the superior class of which I am a member.
So, remove your caps in humility, gather at my feet, listen to my words and try and glean some of the reflected glory, you simple peasant folk.
P.S - I hate "blogging" and "bloggers" and right now I could swallow my keyboard due to the self contempt I feel for allowing myself to become one.
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