I will be back with a new series in the Autumn

I am going to be away for a few days, and felt that it behoved me to select a few carefully chosen words to last you until my return.

engendered
marsupial
preposition
corrosion
thorax
trombone
strolling
pinch
Maudling

No surprise really

My very good friend Realdoc has this exciting link on her page about which ‘celebrity’ resembles you.

Before you read any further (this is addressed to the resilient, hard of understanding core of persistent visitors who have not already stopped), go over to her site and commend her for the high standards, and leave a comment about my being a thieving bastard.

My list came up with loads of people who don't look like me but wear the same style of spectacles. The only spectacle-free match was Andie McDowell.

I have never been so happy.

I am leaving now to visit House of Fraser to enhance my wardrobe. Do you think that this style suits me?

I am also going to have a good feel around next time I have a shower. It may be some time before you hear from me again. Well, let me modify that. I may be too preoccupied to write on this blog for the foreseeable future, but if you live in the vicinity of north east Hampshire, then you may hear low moans of ecstasy.

I am a little concerned, however, that I may attract the unwanted attentions of Hugh Grant. Do any of you have any advice as to how to get rid of this man?

I am relieved and a little surprised to learn from my friends at the BBC that Lulu is now president of Brazil. I thought I had not seen her hanging around outside my house for some time. I always felt that she had more to offer the world than being a mediocre singer with big tits, and is nice to see that she has made some effort to change career. It gives hope to us all. I am tempted to reconsider my decision not to play competitive soccer for Denmark. They are in need of a good attacking central midfielder, and it might be seen as selfish for me not to make myself available. There are just so many things to do.

Anyway, I sent Lulu an email of congratulation. I am still puzzled. She could barely speak English, let alone Portuguese. On further reading of the news item, I am somewhat alarmed to learn that she is involved in some sort of scandal. This is a great shame, as her reputation is high, and if anyone can claim that after being married to one of the Bee Gees, then they must be very resilient.

I am wondering if similar career paths have tempted other former friends. Does anyone hear from Mick of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich? Am I alone in thinking that the new pope is the spitting image of Helen Shapiro? And has anyone seen David Cameron and Alison Moyet together in the same place?

As I have commented elsewhere, loading videos from youtube has the effect of slowing down the loading, so you people will have to do the work yourselves.

As I have mentioned before, I have a strange weakness when it comes to reading detective stories/thrillers/I dunno which genre adequately describes them. I find this odd, given my lifelong support of non-violence (I would not wish you to test me on this by putting me in a room with a baseball bat and Thatcher or Bush) and my exemplary, law-abiding behaviour.

I am similarly drawn to the same type of TV program, but less often satisfied by the result. Over here in the UK at the moment we have a fair few to choose from. An alarming preponderance of utter crap they are too.

The best thing I have seen recently was the 3 part ‘Murphy’s Law’. They have run out of plots from the original books (I trust you all have at least a passing knowledge of the splendid works of Colin Bateman). The latest story was set mostly in Leicester, although none of the filming took place there. I grow weary of seeing the same actors recycled in every major drama, but Mr Nesbit is not without talent, and pretty much ideal for this role.

ITV are showing ‘Rebus’. There are plenty of stories from the books to pinch the plots from, although the books are necessarily more intricate than the films. This is inevitable when you take a 300 page novel down to about 70 minutes of film. What I don’t understand is why they don’t make the episodes spread over two or three weeks and make a better job of it. It is not as if there is a great deal else to replace it with. The main character is played by Ken Stott. I grow weary of seeing the same actors recycled in every major drama. More amusing is his assistant, Sergeant Gormless. She is required to adopt the look that is worn by soap actresses when the closing credits begin, on a regular basis. You know you are getting old when the policemen start to look that stupid.

When I was in America, my niece’s husband was raving about a series called “MI5”. Apparently, the inhabitants of the former colony are too dim to understand the term “Spooks” and would be wondering when Bill Murray was coming in with his gun. I can’t quite take the melodrama in Spooks seriously. This week’s episode featured Robert Glenister. I grow weary of seeing the same actors recycled in every major drama. I am sure that Spooks is aimed at the gay audience. Or some other group whose perspective I do not share.

Continuing to go downhill rapidly is Dalziel and Thicky. I have never read the books. It stars Warren Clarke. I grow weary of seeing the same actors recycled in every major drama. Mr Clarke is a splendid actor who appears in any drivel offered to him. The standard of writing in this series is truly awful, combined with crappy acting and the awful device of explaining background data by means of contrived dialogue between the characters, as you know, Mr Hardacre.

Even worse is the Linley mysteries. The mystery is why they bother. Ace detective fails to detect killer before 3 others are butchered, as in Morse. This series stars Nathaniel Parker. I grow weary of seeing the same actors recycled in every major drama. The books are almost as bad, but quite well written. If you can overcome the awful conceit of having a member of the house of lords serving as a detective inspector at Scotland Yard, that is. For fuck’s sake.

Generally speaking, I prefer American writing and cop series. No, not ‘Murder she wrote’, you utter twat.

At some stage, they will film the novels of Stephen Booth. His hero is neither a social misfit, nor does he have special powers, or a double life as a transsexual Olympic gymnast. Give them a try. (The books, you complete arse, not transsexual Olympic gymnasts [although if that is your bag, so be it]).

Now that you have read all that, you will not have to bother with watching TV for the next 6 weeks, and can concentrate on blogging instead.

A call to arms

My good friend John O’Farrell at the BBC has composed a quaint little essay deploring the lack of humour on websites, specifically British ones. I am glad that he made that distinction. I laugh myself silly each day at the journals from the Mariana Islands.

I have sent a response, but do not expect the commies over there to publish it, reminding him that the world is in a serious predicament, and it ill behoves us to make light of this by resorting to attempts at humour.

I know that I can rely upon all of my readers (aMToNW) to support this stance by continuing to produce the humourless and boring drivel to which I have become accustomed as I peruse your product (almost) every day.

Now is the time to stand firm. Let us have more crochet patterns and discourses on the state of Welsh volleyball. I cannot bear to think that future generations, should our species survive, will view us as anything but upright and sober in our attempts to forge a new and safe world.

If I find anyone breeching the terms of this directive, then the full force of my ire will be unleashed.

So, Steve Irwin walks into a barb…

Today is the birthday of our dear friend Dave. Pretty, vivacious and charismatic, he never fails to charm us. Let's all go over there and have some cake (make mine vegan and organic please).

Here is what I have already wished him:

According to my friends at the BBC, you share your birthday with the Sun 'newspaper'.

Being forever associated with an organ for the production of virulent and dubious stories, with poor writing style and the absence of morality must be a great source of embarrassment. But I spoke to Rupert this morning, and he said he could put up with it.

Dear sweet Zoe, by coincidence is also celebrating having a twat for five years. Go and read her lovely little story. Am I alone in being reminded of Barbara Cartland when I absorb her words?

Are there any more anniversaries today? Have any of you any poignant moments to share? Is the 40th anniversary of your being laughed at in the showers at school? Have any of you been constipated for a year, or 2, or 3? How many days is it since you stopped poncing about on the internet and had a proper conversation?

And as a further anniversary, our favourite rightwingidiot Adam, has added to his journal. He is surprisingly articulate. Thanks for not making it political Adam - not something we particularly want to argue about. I suppose that the summer working in Target has done more for his education than being at college.

And, finally, as if you had forgotten, it is the birthday of good old Harry. (or 'you daft cunt' as his friends and family refer to him).

Neil Harvey standing in the slips with his legs apart, waiting for a tickle

I have been requested by a dear friend, devoted reader and quasi-relation to share my views on the selection of the England cricket team to tour Australia this winter.

I could just say "Ashley Giles" and leave it at that, but that would not be fair to all of those of you waiting eagerly to be better informed.

A team has been selected with only one reserve batsman (assuming that the captain bats at number six) and a handful of bowlers who are all either out of form, unfit or not quite up to standard.

Giles is clearly so far below standard that he hardly merits discussion. It would be kind to say thank you and goodbye. You were an almost adequate stop gap until a genuine attacking spinner could be found. I hope that Panesar continues to develop and learn, although he will have to play extraordinarily well to make a real difference in Australia. I would have chosen Dalrymple as the second spinner, if one is needed. He is a better bat than Giles, and looks to be a better bowler, at least he is unafraid to experiment and they certainly don't need two left arm spinners.

Anderson is clearly not fit. Flintoff may be fit. Harmison and Hoggard are well below their best. Mahmood and Plunkett are (and they may improve), at the moment, reminders of the nameless and mediocre bowlers who were back up in the bad old days of Caddick and Gough. Not that there is much alternative. It is right to send Broad to Perth for the winter. I know that Lewis is not suited to Australian conditions, but I think he might be more reliable than Mahmood. It is a great pity that Simon Jones remains injured.

Nothing very original there, alas.

I doubt whether the bowling attack will be strong enough to win the series. If I am wrong, I will echo the sentiments of the sainted Michael Holding who expressed the view this evening that if England were to steamroller Australia, he would not cry for the Australians.

On the other hand I have never seen an England team with so many batsman who are so good to watch. Not even in the days of Cowdrey, Graveney and Dexter.

I realise that this post is entirely devoid of the normal levels of filth and humour, but at least I can guarantee that this is one thread that will not be taken over by the smutty comments of that dirty old man, Tom.

Let's finish with a story told by Fred Trueman about his time in Australia. In the days when there were more first class and exhibition matches than in current times. The team had a fixture against a country eleven, whose big star was the opening batsman. As was customary, the umpires were local. The first ball from Fred to their star player took the outside edge and was cleanly taken by the wicket keeper. Not out said the umpire. The second ball was plumb lbw. Not out said the umpire. The third ball removed the middle and leg stump. "I bloody nearly got him that time, didn't I?" said Fred.

I have been a little disturbed by what can only be described as naughtiness by my friends Theodore and Evadne Google whose efforts have led, on more than one occasion, to people coming here looking for a young lady called "Liz", surname "Vicus".

Cursory examination leads me to believe that the woman in question is some sort of porn star.

I would like to take this opportunity to make it clear that, despite numerous requests, I have never taken part in these activities. I am not being judgemental, and wish every success to those who do, but it is not my cup of lubricant. Life is difficult enough being the focus of admiration from the female (and probably most of the male) half of the world's population, without my encouraging it. Unlike Tom, who despite his advanced years, is still somewhat naive when it comes to understanding the machinations of the myopic nymphomaniacs who sometimes pursue him, I do not think that anyone's best interests are served by indulging in private activities on a public forum.

So, nothing that you say will induce me to star in the forthcoming production of "Norse Sex Gods" or what have you. I know this will be an enormous disappointment to you. I am not related to Liz, or anyone else with similar inclinations (although Sharon has her moments).

Have a nice cup of fennel tea and an organic chocolate biscuit.

Welcome to my new friends

A periodic salute to those who came here to visit by courtesy of my friends the Googles. They do a splendid job.
Just two to report this time:
avoid going out
This is not advice I would be party to. Where you go and what you do when there, provided that it does not harm others, is fine by me. If you are worried about bumping into me, there is little chance of our meeting. I seldom mix with the populace these days - celebrity is a difficult burden. I mostly stay here and spread love and wisdom via the internet.
what happened next
My guess is that you typed other questions into the search engine that were equally unlikely to result in your being satisfied. Have you tried "where did I put my keys", "what did you just say", "does this colour suit me". You are, what those of us who work in the proximity of IT call, 'technoplegic'.

There goes his chance of the foreign ministry, then.

Our old pal Boris has been naughty again, this time insulting the inhabitants of Papua New Guinea by comparing them to Conservatives, or some such.
I left the following message for him on his blog. I hope you all have time to go over there and comfort him.

Boris, if you would like me to cover your journalistic duties while you are away apologising in the far east, just let me know. Usual rates apply. I would offer to cover your political duties as well, but regret I am not quite silly enough to pass for a Tory MP.

Next time, say something disparaging about north east Hampshire - Jane Austen being a tart for example - then you can call in for a cup of tea and a snack while you are on your apology tour. Provided, of course, that you bring Melissa along.

Thanks to our hosts at Blogger, I am unable presently to post comments on other blogs, unless they allow anonymous comments. I suspect a conspiracy. And I have so much to give.

This is because I have 'upgraded' to "Blogger beta". For those of you not familiar with technological terminology, 'upgraded' is a euphemism for 'change for the worse'. It means that suppliers have removed some of the things that worked, and added things that someone who has not had any human interaction since Nixon was president has decided might be nice.

Anyway, I was over at Richard's just now, and noticed that our old friend MJ has posted something about "New Year's". Why do the North Americans refer to "New Year's" (in the south it is "New Years" - folks down there can't count)? New Year's what? If someone were to ask me what I was doing for 'New Year's budgerigar', my reaction would be to tell them to mind their own business, then to think them a trifle eccentric, but it would certainly remove the uncertainty that would be reaction to the question "What are you doing for New Year's?".

You may think that I am scraping the bottom of several barrels if I have nothing better to complain about, but were I to tell you the contents of the document I interrupted composing in order to post this, you would all understand.

They only have themselves to blame

My friends at LiveScience report that sperm have been killed when a fridge malfunctioned.

Firstly, anyone undertaking inappropriate activities in their fridge should not be surprised when difficulties occur.
Secondly, I cannot think why TCM consider it to be any of their business in reporting it on a so-called scientific web site.
Personally, I have little interest in this subject, but I am sure that my sex crazed readers, particularly Tom who had an unfortunate intimate incident involving a kitchen utensil, will find plenty to write about.

And Ray Illingworth is relieving himself in front of the Pavilion

Out of kindness I tend to compose treatises on sporting themes at the weekend when no bugger reads them. I find it curious that my virtual friends find plenty of time during the working day to call in to deliver or receive wisdom, but are curiously busy at weekends. Perhaps you are all in the employ of some bizarre internet monitoring company and have been assigned to me.

As the cricket season is nearly at an end in England, I felt that I should share some observations.

• Mr Gower: ‘Mighty’ is an adjective. The corresponding adverb is ‘mightily’.

• Most commentators: ‘Ask’ is not a noun.

• Bob Willis: you are not a commentator, you are a sedative. Your tone is so monotonous, and your speech littered with so many inappropriate clichés that you could get a job in an accounts department.

• Sky in general: try to discourage sponsorship of cricket coverage. The repetition of the same unfunny skits is unbearably tedious, in the same league of tediousness as Mr Willis’s voice, if that gives you a clue. I am very weary of hearing that blithering buffoon, Henry Blofeld, uttering the phrase “Protection is our game”. I deeply regret that his parents adopted a different philosophy.

The better bits.

• Michael Holding: as good a commentator as he was a bowler. For those of you who are not sure how good that was, it was fucking good.

• David Lloyd: thank you.

• Nasser Insane: I am prepared to attempt to overcome my prejudice and give you a bit longer. You seem to be realising that the situation in which someone of your mediocre cricketing ability was an automatic choice for England for so long was an indication of the dreadful quality in your time, and that the current team and several of those waiting in reserve are much, much better batsmen than you were.

Fred Trueman: we will miss you. I trust that you have found a place in heaven suitably commensurate with your very high standing, and that someone has finally explained what is going off out there. You were one of the best. The best English bowler I ever saw. Up there with the top group (see the reference to Mr Holding above). For those who never saw Mr Trueman bowl (and he mostly bowled in black and white), then you have missed one of the most graceful and at the same time powerful of sporting spectacles.

And this evening, just to prove me wrong, Bob Willis started to get interesting. It didn’t last for long, but he did refer to ‘left-handed mustard’.