Scotland's Second Favourite Arch Miserablist

Malcolm Middleton, formerly of the great Arab Strab, bills himself as "Scotland's Second Favourite Arch Miserablist".

During his show in Galway last night I asked him, for the avoidance of doubt, who Scotland's favourite "Arch Miserablist" was.

"I don't know", he replied. "But I didn't want to be presumptious". Then he asked me if I'd like to discuss any further technical details of his lyrics.

You see we'd previously had a discussion about his song "Fuck It, I Love You" in which he tells of texting "these three little words" to his girlfriend. After the song he asked if anyone hadn't liked the song. Silence.

"Excellent, A hundred percent success rate", goes the bold Malkey.
"I liked it...", I heard myself informing him. "But I am troubled by one detail".
"Aye?"
"Well, shouldn't it be five little words, strictly speaking?", I asked, too late to stop now.
He looked at me. "I didnae fucking text 'Fuck It'", he replied. "Ahm no that fucking stupid".

Later, he caught me surreptitiously checking a text. After he'd finished his song, a beautiful melancholy paean for the death of summers gone by (Autumn, you're a fucking cunt), he asked me who it was.
"It was my mate Brian", I told him. "He's asking 'Is that Scotch cunt still moaning on?'".
He checked his watch. "Tell him I'll be aboot another half an hour", he replied, smiling.

A strange and thoroughly enjoyable evening. On the way out the first thing my wife said to me was "you were a bit shoutey-outey". I felt this was harsh. I'd be amazed if I was speaking for any more than 5% of the show.

Religion is Taxing

Truly, is it any wonder I drink?

In this speech Cardinal Seán Brady spouts any amount of dog(matic) shite, but let me give you one example where he goes into overdrive with his wrongheaded reasoning.

"Those parents who choose and value the Catholic education provided for their children are taxpayers in exactly the same way as parents who send their children to other types of schools. To disadvantage any group of parents because of their faith is completely contrary to the principle of equality and pluralism"

Leaving aside the ludicrous notion of anyone from the Catholic Church in Ireland seriously promoting "pluralism" he appears to be suggesting that the religion of tax payers can somehow be directly connected to their children's education. This is on a par with suggesting that their skin colour, carbon footprint or football team should impact how their children are taught.

Ludicrous. As any fule kno, these factors are not relevant. And neither is religion.

[drums fingers on desk ... three hours 'til cocktail hour...]

"It's a colour thing"

John Travolta, the actor, has personally flown his private jet into Haiti carrying medical supplies, food and clothing for victims of the disaster there. Here he is here in front of his plane. He cares and I guess it shows.


Sadly, along with the urgently needed supplies came a team of, utterly useless, Scientology ministers wearing yellow t-shirts. These were immediately set loose about the streets of Port Au Prince in search of locals whose nervous systems had been disconnected by the earthquakes. Using a process called "assist" they simply applied, what they call, "touch" to reconnect a victim's nervous system back onto their body. This process has no medical benefit for any other type of injury such as severed limbs, cracked pelvis or bashed-up brains.

One nutter, a Silvie, told news agency AFP that they had been well received by both doctors and patients alike adding,

"But some doctors don't like the yellow T-shirts. It's a colour thing."

You might say to that it's easy for me to sit here, eating meatballs and drinking red wine, to criticize. You're right. It's very, very easy indeed. A child could do it.

Lady's Well

"Lady's Well" is thattaway. Worth noting that the sign is not for "Ladies Well". It's "Lady" singular and the sign points to her personal "Well".

I wonder who she was. She must have been very thirsty indeed.

Swearing in Albanian

Someone, I think it was my brother, told me that certain websites (those featuring beautiful but dead-eyed young women) can tell precisely where you live. So you'll get a little message in the right-hand corner of the screen saying:

"Hi sexy, looking for some company? I'm in Edinburgh too"

I suppose that's ok. If you're visiting one of those websites then you're probably fair game for a bit of local solicitation. Even if you don't agree with that, you're unlikely to complain to anyone.

But, today, while innocently browsing for some Albanian swear words [1] I was absolutely shocked to find a "sophielegs F/19" calling me "cutie" and asking what I'm doing "2night".
Is there nowhere safe on the internet?

[1] May you eat my shit= Me hánksh mutin!

Crouch

When I arrived she was doing karaoke with the other girls and they didn't want any adults in there. So I went into the kitchen and said hello to the adults. I spotted the boys watching the Spurs Leeds game in the living room. One nil to Spurs.

I wandered over. "Who scored?".
"Crouch" one said, not lookinp up.
I lowered myself below the sofa and repeated the question.
Silence. Slowly I rose back up and looked around. The adults were chatting. The boys were staring at the game. I could hear the girls singing "Valerie" on the karaoke.
I wandered back over to the adults and chatted. As if nothing awful had happened.

Quiz for Lourdes

In the swimming pool today I was chatting to this fella.

He told me he was "fucking tired" as he hadn't got home until 2 o'clock in the "fucking morning". I asked him if he'd been out on the bevvy. He told me he'd only had "two fucking pints" even though he didn't have the "fucking car".

Then the details started to trickle through as we sat at the side of the pool, bellies competing. He'd been out at a charity quiz. They hadn't been allowed to start the quiz until "ten o'fucking clock" as the Munster game was on tv and this was "fucking ridiculous" as the quiz was in aid of a trip to Lourdes.

I told him that I thought this was "fucking obscene". He nodded in agreement although, in fact, I think we were agreeing about quite different things which is very much the same as disagreeing.

Puzzle Muteson

This is Puzzle Muteson last night. He was doing a sublime cover of The Smiths' "Sing Me To Sleep" when I noticed that my left shirt sleeve was on fire. I quickly used my right hand to extinguish the enveloping flames thus ending up with not insignificant welts on three of my fingers not to the mention extensive damage to my left wrist. Fucking candles!

Puzzle did look up briefly during the inferno but, like the pro he is, continued.

Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go

Beautiful.

They've cut the sleeves off the shirt and put it in the dressing up box for Halloween. It's black you see.

Music Changes Lives

Due to a prior engagement (bed) I wasn't able to watch this program.

However, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that, in the end, music literally changed their lives. It's no more than a hunch.

Pubs Closing 4

This Galway pub (previously featured here) is thankfully now closed as well.

In its lifetime The Westside Tavern (prior to that called Doc Watson's for reasons unrelated to Bluegrass) was decidedly neither a restaurant nor a party zone. They did do a quite remarkable line in eau de vomit_piss_disinfectant though.

Probably not the sort of things you put above the door.

The Road

I couldn't find any legal pictures of The Road on my internet. So I had to take this one myself at the pictures last night.


For the avoidance of doubt, what's happening just now in Haiti is depressing. The Road isn't. It's a beautifully made, thought provoking love story. It should make you glad to be alive and realign your values about what's important. If you find this adaptation of Cormac Mccarthy's awesome book depressing you're probably already dead.

End of lecture.

Day of the Week Socks

Day-of-the-week socks. It's difficult to know what to say about them.

They are á la mode. Soon, no doubt, they will replace Dancing on Ice and occupy the Dead-Zone Saturday night slot on the Light-Channel.

Last week I saw someone wearing TUESDAY socks on a FRIDAY. Yesterday I saw someone wearing TUESDAY socks on TUESDAY. I can't say which is worse.

What is going on with these fucking socks? If anyone is thinking of buying me day-of-the-week socks please do me a favour. Make them all FRIDAY. Then I can drink every night to dull the pain?

Keep Honking. I'm Reloading.

My own view? Bumper stickers of any sort are strictly for the hard of thinking. But if you must have them at least make them mildly funny. I didn't even understand this one at first.

Keep Honking. I'm Reloading.

I was in the car with the eldest. There was a bike in the back so she was getting to ride up front. This was a big deal, quite possibly illegal and she was full of beautiful, childish joy.

I asked her to take this picture. Keep Honking. I'm Reloading.
"What does that mean?", she asked.
"To be honest, I've absolutely no idea", I replied honestly.
As she took the picture it dawned on me.
"It means if we beep at them they'll shoot us with guns", I explained.

She laughed. Thinking I was joking.
"What an absolute fucking arsehead", I muttered. "Where does he think he is? Texas?".
"Pardon", she said.

Please Mrs Robinson

She said:

"I am comforted by the fact that Christ has been able to forgive me".

Now even though this is a "fact" you might suspect that it's, in fact, a load of old nonsense. You might suspect that until you see that her story is fully corroborated by her husband:

"(My wife) has sought and received God's forgiveness"

Now leaving aside the Christ/God anomaly (are they the same?) it seems that Iris has indeed received full forgiveness from the Big Man. So who are we to criticize?

Here's another quote from her:

"There can be no viler act, apart from homosexuality and sodomy, than sexually abusing innocent children."

I'll tell you one thing. It sure says heaps for the Big Man to be able to forgive such a repugnant, debased, evil personage as this.

How to eat cheese

Serving Suggestion. Break into pieces in a rustic stylee and throw a few old grapes on the side.

Brilliant!

Queuing System Debacle

Edinburgh Airport yesterday morning. Timeline around 07:50 of the am. Standing in the Ryan Air queuing system for the Dublin flight.

I look up and see my old pal Stevie Dunton. "Stevie Dunton", I shout. He sees me, waves and comes over in precisely the manner you'd expect him to if you knew him. Nobody really changes but Stevie Dunton changes even less.

"Hullo", he says.
We shake hands. "Where you off to, old chum?", I ask him.
"Dublin".
"Dublin", I repeat. "Me too".

I immediately become aware that the two teenage girls in the queuing system in front of me are sniggering at the absurdity of this exchange. They laugh and their laugh says "What a dick!".

"I didn't realise Stevie was in this queuing system", I tell them weakly.
One replies "Which queuing system did you think you were in?".

I ignore them and continue chatting to Stevie. They ignore me and continue to snigger.
"Where are you going?", I hear one asking the other.
"Dublin", she replies.
"Why me too", replies the cheeky monkey, exploding in laughter.

Free free newspaper

Hats off to BAA who, in these recession hit/credit crunch/bla fucking bla times, are quite literally giving away complimentary free newspapers. With no charge whatsoever.

As any fule who ever picked up The Metro will kno though, there's no such thing as a free newspaper.

God's Will

If the Lord Will - The Word of God - Will Be Preached Here.

Or to put it another way, if you come along on Sunday at 6pm and they're preaching here ... then it turns out that there definitely IS a God. His Will has triumphed.

Staggering.

SKY

SKY came to the door yesterday.

I opened the door and there stood the man from SKY. He was wearing a jacket with SKY on it and punching details into a little SKY hand-held terminal. Head down he continued to enter my details. I looked beyond him into the snowy street and saw his van with SKY emblazoned across the side.

This was definitely SKY. I looked again at the man who'd rung my doorbell so that I would stop what I was doing (eating porridge) and answer it. He was still silently entering details into his little thing. Punching them in single finger using his stubby little hand. Much time passed. The chill northerly wind swept relentlessly into the hall.

Eventually he looked up. "SKY", he said.

Pubs Closing 3

Despite it's glorious footballing past, in which I personally held the midfield and made nice passes, this pub also went down the tubes.

Makes me a bit sad to see this. But more for lost youth than the pub itself which, frankly, was more than a little ... what's the word ... pish.

Pubs Closing 2

In its final incarnation this pub wasn't even a pub. It was a "liquid bar". That would be a bar serving liquid.

A novel but, thankfully, ill-fated notion.

Pubs Closing 1

Pubs closing down all over the town. A very good thing in this observer's opinion. Natural selection at it's best.

Even a "Championship" game live on the telly couldn't save this awful specimen.