something witty and erudite will appear here eventually
Year to date.
Went skiing, cracked a rib, nothing doing for six weeks.
Got better.
Weekend away, caught plague, nothing doing for a week.
Got better.
Played football, sprained my ankle, nothing doing for six weeks.
Got better.
Went swimming, hurt my shoulder, AAARRRRGGGHHHH! I just want to be fit and healthy, what’s the bloody problem?
I did something unusual last night; I went swimming which, granted, isn’t something I usually do, but that wasn’t it, no, I did something responsible, something… uh, kind, I guess, and, as opposed to thinking my usual dark thoughts, despairing at the world, and going on my way, I intervened.
At the pool there was a young girl who, I suspect, suffers from autism if only because she reminded me in her manner of Duncan’s brother, she was splashing about and playing as people do and, unfortunately, being teased by a fat ginger kid and his mates because, obviously, ‘spacks are mental. Mnnnnngghhh!’
Now, usually I’m not one to step in and have a word; breaking up fights is a good way to get stabbed in this city, but the whole situation rankled. I did a few lengths assuming that whoever was escorting the girl would step in but, after four or five, no one had and she was clearly quite upset.
So I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done before, I told off some children. I pointed out that they’re lucky to be in a position to tease and laugh at someone else’s expense, told them to stop it and then, because I couldn’t help myself, told the ginger kid that he couldn’t comment anyway as he’s ginger and therefore soulless, not a real person at all.
I know, I know, not the best example to set, hypocrite and all that.
Still, it had the desired effect, they stopped and I had a curious moment where I reflected on the fact that I was once an obnoxious little tit too. That second bit wasn’t really intended, but it did bring into sharp relief the fact that I’m still surprised, even now, to find that I’m an adult and that I do adult things.
Then, obviously, I brooded for a bit because I’m still convinced that I’m an inherently bad person based on how many thoughts and impulses I have to choke-off to prevent them flourishing into full-blown sociopathy, but still, little steps, little steps.
I was talking to Cernunnos the other day and he said that the Green Man’s apparently been staying in a lot and watching DVD’s with the Nix, which explains a lot. Still, we’re going to go ‘round later and nick his TV, he’ll have no choice but to sort the Spring out then.
Wish us luck.
Lazy mythical bastard.
My helpdesk software has a button labelled ‘Create Problem’.
It seems a little counter-productive to me.
I mean, we’re meant to fix problems.
I want to press it.
I want to press it so much.
But what if everything breaks?
I’m not cut out for this.
With frightening efficiency Griff, Ifan and Betsan (hello by the way, it’s always nice to have new readers) descended upon yesterday’s glib post about horse abuse and nationalism to make a few observations. Chief among these is the fact that the BBC appears to have become lazy and feckless and that ‘Cai Maes Sais’ is gibberish in any language, especially Welsh.
I find this slightly alarming as I’m not used to sensible discourse cropping up here, it’s supposed to be all about me, my latent narcissism, and the conflicting rubbish that I like to spout. Please try to remember that, people.
Obviously I don’t know about you, but I’ve been a little exasperated with the BBC and it’s penchant for dumbing-down for quite a while now, to discover that they no longer check their output properly is, well, it’s a little upsetting, like having the rug pulled out from under you and your head kicked-in.
That said, there’s a part of me that’s highly suspicious about receiving three startlingly similar comments made, as if by rote, and without any apparent consideration for those that have gone before. My apologies if that offends, but they are very similar, you can’t blame a chap for stroking his chin and going ‘Hmm’ now can you?
Still, as the commenteers point out (and you can find them here by the way), ‘Cai Maes Sais’ means nothing in Welsh, which is interesting and raises a few questions. Obviously I know absolutely no Welsh beyond ‘Mae fy hofrenfad yn llawn o lyswennod*’ so realistically it could be a diatribe about the state of the union for all I know, I’m inclined to believe Griff however as he translated, which was nice of him.
So, it doesn’t mean ‘English out’, which does make you wonder if it is indeed a Welsh Nationalist attack or just someone being a massive arse. I’m sure there is a distinction between the two.
Anyway, a few points about the comments. Firstly, I don’t understand why you all felt the need to slate the same translation service, granted it’s rubbish and Griff got there first (so this doesn’t really apply to you), but it just seems like you’ve an axe to grind or, potentially, that you’re the same unimaginative person. Please feel free to prove my suspicions false, it’s nothing personal, I just assume the worst.
That said, examples, yay!
Secondly, yes, I’d expect any self-respecting Welsh Nationalist to be able to read, write and speak Welsh otherwise what’s the point? However, as I’ve said previously, excessive nationalism isn’t exactly the realm of the enlightened. While it’s certainly possible that it’s a faked Welsh Nationalist attack, it’s also equally possible that it’s the work of some shaven-headed-tits who hate the English so much they’re able to overlook the fact they only speak our language. Either way, as Ifan pointed out, someone’s playing silly buggers.
Also, Griff, the owner injuring her own horse idea, no, just no.
Thirdly, and finally, unless I think of something else, I don’t really see how the story turns people against Welsh speakers, welsh Nationalists perhaps, but then the sort of person who will be turned against all Welsh Nationalists rather than the usual mental minority probably won’t grasp the argument anyway.
I can understand nationalism in a political context, self-rule and a chance to shape your own destiny is important, however it’s also needlessly divisive in our case. What, honestly, would be the point? Independence from the UK is a fine idea until you realise the economy wouldn’t support it, the situation’s much the same in Scotland, that’s without considering unemployment.
I’ve nothing against it mind you, if that’s what people want, but I often think it’s not so much about leaving the UK as it is about dragging control away from what is perceived as England. You know, despite the fact that we’re all the same country, the United Kingdom. At least, that’s what I’ve got on my passport; let me know if yours is any different.
I don’t know, perhaps I’m wrong, but in the UK talk of devolution always seems to smack of petulance over events that took place hundreds of years ago and didn’t affect any of us; it’s not like you hear me kicking off because Mercia’s no longer ruled from Tamworth is it? People should move on.
Protecting cultural identities is a different matter obviously; it’s something that I’m definitely in favour of, it wouldn’t do if we were all the same now would it? But nationalism, outside of the context of political independence, is something I’ve always thought of as being utterly pointless.
With regards to turning people against nationalists, particularly the sort active in the realms of graffiti, intimidation, anti-x attacks, excessive devotion to a nation and its interests, and the belief that one country is superior to all others, well, it’s hard to see how anyone could be for them, they’re idiots.
Ultimately though, attacking a horse = bad.
Graffiti gibberish = bad.
Intolerance and ignorance = bad.
That guy in the pub on Ynys Môn who refused to serve me a beer because I was English until my friends turned up and had a word in Welsh = Arsehole. It’s that sort of fuckwittery that angers people.
* My hovercraft is full of eels.
‘Anti-English attack’ hurts horse
A horse’s nose was cut and anti-English graffiti daubed on a stables owned by a Cardiff woman who had moved to a village in west Wales.
Alison Hayes, who was born in the Welsh capital, found her seven-month-old pony with a wound to its nose.
As she helped the animal at her land in Tegryn, near Crymych, Pembrokeshire, she also noticed graffiti written in slang Welsh saying “English out”.
Dyfed-Powys Police are investigating the attack.
Mrs Hayes and her husband moved to the area last year with the intention of opening a riding stables.
But she was shocked when she discovered their pony, Hope, with a bleeding wound on her nose.
“It is awful, she is very frightened,” she explained.
“I just can’t understand it - I’m from Cardiff, I was born there. My mother and father are both Welsh - what’s going on?
“This is a Welsh-speaking area and they might have mistaken our Cardiff accents for English, that is all I can think,” she added.
“This was an incredibly cruel thing to do. Hope is a beautiful, friendly animal and she was slashed across the face and mouth.
“The motivation of these people was ridiculous and to take it out on an innocent horse was wicked.
“Hope loved being around people but now I can’t get near her. She is terrified.”
Source: BBC
I mean, come on, when your excessive nationalism leads you to attack horses I think you need to sit down and ask yourself some pretty serious questions, questions such as “why am I such a fucking cock-end?”
Still, it’s pretty good proof really, if proof were ever needed, that in order to be a bigot you have first to be a complete moron.
Speaking of excessive nationalism, it’s nice to see the Olympic flame taking such a kicking from people who find China’s little PR exercise somewhat offensive. Obviously violent protests are somewhat hypocritical, but then again, taking part in the flame carrying process is much the same. Still, it is quite apt; the whole flame carrying concept was cooked up by Hitler after all.
Olympic protests spread to Paris
Protests against the torch relay ahead of the Beijing Olympics have spread to France’s capital, Paris.
Four people were arrested, including two who were taking part in demonstrations critical of Chinese rule in Tibet, AFP news agency said.
Officials twice extinguished the torch and put it on a bus for safety reasons.
Earlier, the president of the International Olympic Committee (IOC), Jacques Rogge, expressed concern over unrest in Tibet and the torch protests.
The French protests come after 37 people were arrested during pro-Tibet protests which disrupted Sunday’s relay in London.
Security in Paris was extremely tight, with some 3,000 police on duty, riding motorcycles, jogging or on skates.
About 500 protesters were reported to be involved in the demonstrations, mainly near the Eiffel Tower.
Several hundred demonstrators waving banners gathered on the Trocadero esplanade where the relay got started at 1235 local time (1135 BST).
A member of the French Green party was restrained by police after attempting to grab the torch from the first of Paris’s 80 torch bearers, former world 400 metres hurdles champion Stephane Diagana, Reuters news agency said.
Police twice carried the torch onto a bus amid the demonstrations.
On the second occasion, the flame was being relayed out of a Paris traffic tunnel by an athlete in a wheelchair when it was taken onto a bus because protesters booed and began chanting “Tibet”, the Assoicated Press reported.
Source: BBC
Pedants point out that speed limits are not an instruction, an order if you will, to drive at whatever speed they indicate. They are in fact a limit, the upper reaches of what is acceptable on any given road and you should, realistically, drive at whatever speed you feel comfortable with.
Technically, this is correct.
However, I’m of the opinion that if you’re going to poddle along at forty miles an hour in a sixty limit you should either do the decent thing and career into a ravine or get a bus. On no account should you get into a car because, frankly, you’re a hindrance to the rest of humanity while you’re behind the wheel.
I know, I know, what’s the rush right?
It’s simple, the rush is the fact that there are those of us who don’t particularly enjoy the journey, who have never believed that ‘getting there is half the fun*’ and who actually have better things to do with their time than sit in their car on some godforsaken B-road behind some sanctimonious tit who thinks they’re making the world a safer place by driving at a crawl.
Some of us actually want to get where we’re going.
Today, preferably.
* It isn’t. If getting there is half the fun then logically the other half is the return trip. I’ve always thought that this rather defeats the object of going out in the first place; you might as well stay at home and save everyone else the hassle of being stuck behind you while you struggle with the twin concepts of fourth gear and acceleration.
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