Honesty in advertising pt.1 of very, very many

" We know you don't really want to beat the system, you just want to see it work"

Bollocks. I want to thrash it into submission, f*ck it RIGHT in the eye.

Starting with the corporate scum that came up with THAT beauty.

All for dear old blighty

No, not new cable channels that can't even be bothered to have the right colours in the union jack motif they use. That really won't do. Trying to be inclusive, media types? Trying to appeal to everyone? Not to the Brits you won't, only to the graduate classes who have the time to witter about this bullshit. No, but for queen and country, I dragged my arse out of my sick bed today and was in the fun factory for five fifty am. Bullshit job from Tuesday completed, at the cost of a whole day of arsing around with things that very few people understand, stressy public representatives, unhelpful official help resources (a pox on you) and the local ones as usual pulling out all the stops (a beer for you). And here I am, my throat sounds like something Harley Davidson would reject for sounding too rough, the washing up is still piling up four hours after I started it and the fun'ometer for the weekend is frankly looking none too sharp. I would really like some hometime.

Lurgy strikes again

This is getting silly. Just how kyboshed am I?

Again - running a temp but feeling cold, throat's screwed up, splitting headache, dreams are screwed up again. Taken the day off work although I can't afford to; there's outstanding stuff from yesterday which MUST be completed; it's knackered me for getting to Liverpool this evening for a belated hullo to the Hobbit's 40th, my plans for drinkies at the weekend will be knackered and there's a list of things to do here as long as the waiting list for tickets home from Iraq. I am far from pleased, will illness please check in with my diary secretary four weeks in advance?

A Saturday in

Well, it's a quiet one. Woke to the feeling that Friday had happened and that cider had been back on the menu again. I really must find better brands than Old Rosie, that stuff really is gutrot; is having a Saturday Ciderhead really worth saving half an hour and a taxi to the Brewpub, where they do the nice stuff?

Not a lot of folks around, not a lot happening in the world of pixels, just the propellorheads tracking the military cargo flights as they go over the top. Here in the Fortress, things seem to lack a little structure at the moment, so I'm just mooching. Mooched off into town to do a little shopping but HMV was packed and I was lacking inspiration in the bookshop so my christmas vouchers will last a day or two more. Picked up my formerly dead mobile from the repair shop, so I've got telephone numbers again. Yay! Mystery texters, I know who you are now! The postman has been conspicous by his absence this morning, but as I'm a valentines grouch I can't say I'm feeling especially destroyed by this; a pox on the whole commercial blah of it all.

They sent me away again during the week. Driving down to Oxfordshire in a brand new Volvo, on clear roads because I'd chosen my time well, and to cap it all, a live Morrissey performance on Radio Two. Two days of gentlemans hours, somebody else cooking my breakfast and dinner, first rate catering at the Army centre and a busman's holiday playing with naughty things with other grumpy officers of my vintage. Nice one. Just sometimes, the job plays fair with me. And unbelievably, I retained my chaos certificate. Nice one. All I need now is some of that structure for this weekend...

Pinkery

Curiously relaxing evening, all things considered. Not as if I didn't need it. Invited to "Big Gay Night Out" by my big gay workmate and those of the chaps from the office that dared. So off to the Northbank it was, to walk into what looked decidedly shabby from the outside but was actually alright, and curtain up on an evening of drag queens, a little bit of outrageousness on behalf of those who wish to partake in such things, Rolf Harris songs and all that pink jazz. Actually a very good night out; if not just the change of scene, made the conscious realisation that I'm an uberstressed twat at the moment and I aught to lighten up on the colleagues a bit. Well, some of them at least.

Speaking of things that are bad for your arse - and if that isn't the tackiest link I've ever used I don't know what is - I found myself back in Hometown a week or so back; more Winter Ale Festivalling for the use of. Does the man never get enough? Frankly no. Going from the enormous to the very very small, it leaves behind the majesty of the enormous Manchester shindig and is a simple 30 barrel show in a social club, run by my old branch of CAMRA as a side event to their big one in September. I have a list of beers I drank. But I cannot find it. Which is a shame because there were a lot of really tasty, naughty beers all from within 30 miles or so of Hometown, and there was one in particular I had to warn you about because it drinks like a four percent bitter but it's actually a 9.5, which will hurt and I can confirm does! Oh, and the Perry that's on at the moment at the seafront bar up here is most fine as well. That hurts too.

The Mike Mobile telecoms device is up on blocks at the moment which is most unfortunate. The backup is running, but hasn't many numbers on it as Captain Clever keeps all of them on the phone's internal memory so if you're not getting textbabble from me, don't worry, I'm not ignoring you, just can't find you.