We Dishonour The Dead Every Day.

When are we going to realise that swearing really is big and clever?

Not only that, but that laughing at others is what truly sepeartes us from animals. Some would suggest empathy or love might be, but I've seen both of those emotions from my cats, yet none of my feline friends have ever had to sit down from laughing so hard, when I've stood bare footed in a pile of their faeces.

There are of course plenty of people out there who'd rather not listen, or read, that kind of thing. I totally agree with their right not to. I'm certainly not going to go and drag them kicking and screaming into a room to watch Scum with me. Although there would be an obvious comedy value in that.

So why should people who don't like the vulgar side of life insist that those who do be stopped from doing so?

There seems to be a growing minority of people that insist that we live in a decadent society. One that is in serious need of changing. On that headline alone, perhaps I'd agree, but their villain is always and solely the media, and those that create it. It will never lie with the policy makers and human rights do-gooders who have allowed our kids to run ferral, and our terrorists to be home in time for tea. Heaven forbid. It always has to lie at the feet of the media.

I have come in for some flak myself this week for crossing the lines of decency and taste. My crime? Saying the word "minge" on a football fanzine. It might not have been completely appropriate, granted, but it certainly didn't warrant the calls on an assosciated forum for me to "come on there and explain myself." I said minge. I did not offer up a human sacrfice to Kali the god of blood.

Lets also look at the context of it all. It took place on a football fanzine, places known for their laddy human and coarse attitudes. Anyone who went on that site who might have been genuinely offended by a word such as minge, would probably have been best advised to give it a miss.

And to suggest that I "explain myself," was laughable. Allow me to explain. I have written a lot of articles for the fanzine over a number of years. I text updates to said website during the game to keep fans informed about whats happening if they can't make it. I do this for free, because I love the club, and I want to do the best I can for my fellow fans. If I choose to swear on there, then I swear on there. I don't have to do anything for anyone, and If I chose to, I could just stop. I'd lose nothing at all. In fact, it'd be a lot less hassle.

I must admit, I enjoy the fact that I can reply so honestly about what others think about me. I'm sure that Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross have plenty of things they'd like to say about those who turned on them for their gag. And whilst perhaps their stunt was a tad childish, it certainly didn't deserve the reaction that followed. I don't envy the fact that they have careers to safeguard. Perhaps my reaction would be muted had I got a six figure salary to save.

But in this surely there's a more worrying problem. Had Ross or Brand dared to question the reaction they faced, then it goes without saying the hatred would have intensified. It simply wouldn't have been worth the effort to try and fight back. Perhaps had they done so, the rumours that have circulated around internet forums and media circles might well have reached the publics ears. That they did not, and in doing so, the full truth was never revealed, is a sad indictment of the mob justice attitude that prevails in these moral panic situations.

On this day of all days, when we celebrate the efforts of those who died to protect our way of life, it shocks and scares me that we can allow such hot headedness to trample all over our God given right to free speech, something that countless people risked and lay down their lives to protect.

We in the Western World, and not just this nation, have a distinct inability to accept our own failings. We would rather think that rather than accept that we still have an ounce of the savage left in us, that we are being manipulated, conned, into doing wrong, by the evil man behind the TV screen, when in truth all we want is things our own way.

Noel's Not Wrong.

Noel Gallagher this week slated England as a fucking dump. But oddly enough, the flag waving lunatics haven't lurched from their seats in Middle England to defend good old Blighty.

You could argue that perhaps people don't care what Noel Gallagher has to say anymore. You could argue that. You'd be wrong however. What's actually going on, is that the Oasis star has once again hit the nail firmly on the head.

A quick click on the Google News page for the UK a moment ago, led me to wade through the first twelve stories of people being killed, maimed, punished, hit in the pockets, or our institutions failing, before I found one headline that didn't seem to relate to something depressing. And that was the appointment of the Bishop of Bangor, which I'm sure some could argue is hardly "good" news.

It's not just that I clicked on the news at a bad time. It's that every time is a bad time in this country at the moment.

Take the old nemesis of British life - the weather. Rubbish. We get people harping on about global warming, and yet we get soggier and soggier summers. We really are getting the raw end of the deal there. Surely the EU can quota up some sunshine for us from the Spanish, after all, they get a good chunk of our fish.

Speaking of Europe, it's interesting to note how our currency is slowly but surely falling against the Euro. In just under ten years the Euro has pulled back 10p on the Sterling. Bargain hunting abroad is no longer the bargain it once was. True in part that's to do with the development of other nations, but also the failings of this one.

Then there's crime. We have the sixth highest crime rate per person in the world. With three quarters of us believing that the police do a good job, then that can only point to one thing. We're a nation over run by scumbags.

Violent youth crime is up 37%, total youth crime overall is up 21%. Yet over half of these criminals, and that's what they are, regardless of age, are getting let off with a caution. And that's it. I got a caution for being drunk on the way out of a nightclub once. That seemed fair. Kids getting cautions for thieving and fighting however? There is no comparison.

It's crowded too. Britain has a population density of 246 people per km2. That's more than double that of our neighbours France (110). And that is a bit misleading as well, as It takes into account Scotland which is extremely sparse at 65. England's density is 383 people per km2. That is damn crowded.

We charge over a hundred pound more a year than our nearest neighbours just for the privilege of having power, and in 2007, we had the fourth highest rates for prices in the EU for electricity. I'm not exactly sure how much it's gone up since then, but it certainly has. We also make our motorists pay more for diesel than anyother EU nation.

It's easy to paint a bleak picture of British life. I originally wanted to write this article with a balanced opinion, but I found that I couldn't. Like Noel stating "I miss my girlfriend and my little boy and my daughter. I miss watching the football, I miss getting a decent cup of tea," I found that all I would miss about this country were silly little things.

I'd also miss the football. I'd miss my favourite pub. I'd miss my friends and family. Other than that however, this country has little going for it. I've often said to the girlfriend that I've no intention of seeing out my days in the UK, and for me, the sooner that day comes, the better.

TV is for dummies.

It's fashionable these days to suggest that everything is dumming down. It's easy for anyone with an ounce of supposed breeding to look down on anyone without, with disdain. The same way it's possible that that anyone wearing any form of hooded top can be branded a Chav, or anyone who doesn't drink real ale is a lager lout. We live in a society blighted by snobbery.

We belittle anyone who buys a pop album for having no real musical taste. Anyone who watches Big Brother is a mindless voyeur, whilst those who choose QI seize the moral and intellectual high ground.

Yet with TV we tend not to blame the consumer, we blame the producers. There is a definite suggestion out there now, that TV is dumming down, and that it's not as good as it used to be. Along with football. And society. And the weather. And...

I concede that there is a lot of dross on TV these days. A lot of "turn on, tune in, and cop out." There really has to be for the lifestyle we, and that includes you and me, live. There's been such a huge impetus put on the value of free time, that people have simply not spent as much time in front of the box. They can't freely commit to long running shows, or intellectual stimuli. They just want to watch something they can understand, and chill out after a day at work.

Things like "How Clean Is Your Crack," and "Rampant Teen Street Killers" might not be the sort of thing that are going to promote deep and meaningful conversations down the pub, or at the latest garden party. Perhaps they should however. Perhaps if these supposed intellectuals could break away from the fact that these shows are populated by the "poor" they might actually look at the Rampant Teen Street Killers and begin to consider the reasons why these sort of scenarios and conditions exist in this most developed of nations.

I feel that some people are instantly turned off by the idea of fly on the wall documentaries, after all these sort of shows became popular through things like Ibiza Uncovered, and there is a stigma there. To suggest however, that all of these shows are lacking in moral or intellectual substance is short sighted.

It's the same with reality TV. My Dad, bless his cotton socks, slates the contestants of Big Brother as desperate wannabes, but avidly watches shows like Dragon's Den and The Apprentice, the latter being a show that he slated consistently. Until he watched it. He also laps up the X-Factor, not that he'll thank me for telling you that.

The reason I pick on my Dad, is because he sort of embodies the ideas of the people who say TV is dumbing down. It's a statement I have no doubt he'd support. He will thumb through the newspaper, cast his eyes over the main five channels, and complain that there's nothing good on. Fair enough, there rarely is anything on for him on those five channels. Apart from the shows I've already mentioned, I can't think of anything else he really enjoys, aside from the football and QI.

We do however own a freeview box. One thing my Dad does love, is history. He has a bookcase stacked with stories about the various conflicts that have happened over the years, and a collection of miniature model soldiers from the Napoleonic war. We've got UKTV History on the freeview box. I've never seen him put it on once.

I think that's a situation that gets repeated up and down the country. People look at the five main channels, and that's where their search ends. They give up once they've seen that there is nothing on. They wouldn't even contemplate checking out to see what might be being shown on BBC4, any of the UKTV channels, National Geographic, The History Channel, Discovery, Dave, and so on.

What has happened to TV is a dumbing down. And a smartening up at the same time. With so many channels now, there is something for everyone at every moment. We've allowed ourselves greater creativity, greater freedom of choice. With more channels, there will be more tripe out there, but there's also more quality programming.

Those who choose only to see the negative are in one of two categories. Snobs, or lazy. TV might now requires the viewer to engage with, and search out a programme of their choice. It requires the viewer not to be dumb themselves, it requires them to smarten up.

And if this argument has still not swayed people who believe that TV was all so much better in the old days, I suggest you go watch both incarnations of Battlestar Galactica, and consider which one it is that will have you thinking into the wee hours, and which is the daft, dumbed down, tea-time TV trash.

I hate Q.

Not the letter, that's fine by me. Not the scientific aide to James Bond, not even the Cleese version, I can live with that. I even enjoy the omnipresent being of Star Trek folklore of that name. What I do hate, is the music magazine.

For a long time I've not been alone in suspecting that Q was losing it's way. Losing it's cutting edge to be more precise, and cosying up with anyone popular for the sake of it's circulation. The announcement of it's nominee's list for the forthcoming Q Awards should prove to anyone with a modicum of musical intelligence that this is the case.

A quick cursory glance at the bands nominated and you'll see some familiar faces. Not least Coldplay, a band that Q have constantly been interested in snuggling under the duvet with. They've been nominated for four awards, one being Best Album, another being Best Act In The World Today.

The thing is, whilst Coldplay may have sold a shed load of discs this year, and there is no disputing that, you have to bear in mind that they always will. They've got that sort of sizable fan base now that will go out and buy it no matter what. Even if Chris Martin recorded himself masturbating (and some would argue his music is just a great big dose of self gratification for the curly haired chump) there'd probably be people that would buy it. There would even be those who'd really, really enjoy it. And Q, would give it four stars. In fact if he let another man do the deed for him, they'd probably give it five for being "experimental."

The Breakthrough act (different somehow from Best New Act) see's Adele, Duffy and Gabriela Chilmi, alongside two acts who haven't really broke through. Perhaps that was Q's attempt to be a little bit bohemian, a little bit off the beaten track. In truth, I think Santogold has what it takes to do something a little special, but I'd hope that she "breaks through" a lot more next year. I'm just flummoxed by the lack of bands like Black Kids, MGMT, or even Noah and The Whale, all of whom have enjoyed big success in their first year. The same could be applied to the best new acts list.

What really got me going is something I really didn't expect to, and that was the inclusion of Oasis in the Best Band In The World section.

I love Oasis, I absolutely worship the ground they walk upon. I'll be voting for them in said category. However, how on Earth can they be the Best Band In The World at the moment, when the album isn't even out until two days after the awards are announced?

It's this sort of thing that make you realise that Q have lost their way. It's that sort of idea that they look after and champion the bands that they think people will want to see do well, rather than actually awarding the bands who are making their mark on music, and trying to do something for the good of the art.

Magazines like Q have a duty to the consumer. That duty is to promote and discover bands that we might not have heard of, and not to stay in the pockets of those who have already made it. Sticking Oasis on your front cover to sell copies is one thing, I can get on board with that. But giving them the chance to win an award proclaiming them as the best band of the year gone, two days before their album even comes out, shows just what Q has become.

It's all about the money...

Liberty Way is becoming a sore point for the clubs it hosts.

The ground share agreement between the football club and the rugby club has once again come to a head, as these uncomfortable bed fellows once again lock horns over exactly who gets what and for what price.

It’s an ugly situation to see; when the towns to premiere sporting clubs go head to head it does nothing for anyone, and I’m sure that both sides would love for the problem to be solved as soon, and as amicably as possible, yet sadly it would seem that this might be a case of wishful thinking.
The problem stems from the original agreement, that the rugby club would pay £1000 a year to rent the pitch at Liberty Way. In the original agreement, the football club would get priority over fixtures, however as we know, there was a lot of bending that went on to accomodate for the rugby club by the football club. Hardly getting priority was it? It certainly seemed a more than fair deal for the rugby club, especially when you consider the cost of the pitch alone when it was installed.

Now however, the agreement has become null and void due to the liquidation of Stadiasafe, something the rugby club’s own minutes from a meeting dated August 2007 back up. The problem now seems that the rugby club have drank from the posh china, and don’t want to go back to drinking from a chipped and tea stained mug.

To be fair there is a small part of me that sympathises with them. After all, had it been us who had been gazumped, then I’d be spitting feathers now. However, it smacks of the amateurish nature of the way things were done in the build up to moving to Liberty Way, and both sides need to take some blame there.

The rugby club, had they any commone sense, should have ensured that should the football club go under, anyone who bought the club had to buy into the arrangement. Their failure to ensure this will ultimately cost them. But then again, they did get a phenomenally good deal and one that I find hard to believe the football club felt could be profitable.

Perhaps there was a fear that the deal had to be pushed through as soon as possible, and they accepted anything the rugby club offered. That to me was wishful thinking. What should have been put in place was an agreement that ensured that the football club got a fair deal out of the arrangement.

It’s clear that in the past we didn’t, and no matter how much the rugby club might insist that Ian Neale is being unfair now, it was clearly them who were getting a superb deal in the past. £1000 a year to rent the facilities we provided for them? That doesn’t even come close to covering the cost of maintaining the pitch, let alone going anyway to cover the cost of the installation of the pitch. If they want to use it after all, surely they should pay a decent fee.

It’s been revealed that the cost of maintaining the stadium and pitch is roughly £50,000 a year. No one expects the rugby club to pay half of that, they are after all our tenants and don’t command the gates we do. It would be wrong to make them do so.

The figure of £15,000 may seem steep to some, especially when considered against the previous fee, but it’s still less than a third of the overall cost of maintaing the facility they use. To pay a mere 2% as they maintain they should do is criminal and does nothing the financial betterment of OUR club.

It’s an awful thing that it does come down to drawing the line and seperating it into an us and them situation, but the events of the last twelve months have taught me that we need to be a bit more ruthless to survive. I want a successful football club. I would love to see a successful rugby club alongside that, but my prime concern has to be football.

So what is going to happen next? Well the deal has been placed to the rugby club, and they have rejected it. It is now to be seen what the next step is, although Ian Neale doesn’t seem to be one who can be easily budged, and it would seem that the rugby club are going to have to either pay up or push out.

That would be a sad situation, and I would take no pleasure in being the cuckoo’s in the nest, I would hate to think of the rugby club being locked out of their home, usurped if you like. I do think however, we need to protect our interests, to ensure that we never find ourselves going to the wall again. Some situation needs to be found however, because as I said at the start of this article, it’s a very ugly situation to be in.

We All Need A Little Wall-E

Taken from http://www.obsessedwithfilm.com/ where you can find a lot more of my postings. Please folks, go have a looksie...


There’s a lot of films that have been hyped up this year. The Dark Knight for one. Indy was another. Yet all year long I’ve seen cardboard cut outs in my cinema foyer of some sort of little robot chappy called Wall*E.
And I was intrigued.

Now I freely admit that I am a sucker for the cute side of film making. Some will argue that this makes me a bad person, someone who’s views can’t be taken seriously. And they must be right because after all, if I succumb to the experience, what am I truly taking from the picture?

This is my point with this article really, the completely shallow way which some people view movies, and I’m going to prove it using Wall*E. So I’ll start by telling you why I love Wall*E, and you should too.Let’s not get bogged down in whether or not the film was cheesy to start, because it was. It has to be, because first and foremost it’s a kids film. Let’s look at Wall*E himself.

Here we have a character for whom actions speak louder than words. I’ve read articles comparing Wall*E to Chaplin’s Tramp character, and you have to say, that the comparisons are fair. Here we have a character who doesn’t have to rely on speech to create a truly sympathetic comic character. A creation that we instantly feel for. He is personified in such a way that after a while, he’s not a robot, he’s the good in all of us. If there really were a devil and an angel who appeared on your shoulder, it wouldn’t surprise me if the angel appeared looking like Wall*E. The guy is just that nice.

And it’s not a sickly nice either. Pixar created someone – not something either – that genuinely has a warmth. Someone that makes the simple things, like extending a hand to help someone up, telling them your name, or simply just waving at them, seem easy to do. It’s a sad indictment on us a race that these little gestures seem so grand in this movie, that they stand out from the norm and separate Wall*E from everything else that’s going on.

His steadfast dedication, especially throughout his vigil for Eve is again a concept that stands out and makes him a hero, because it’s simply something that you rarely see these days. If someone had tried to blow you too pieces with a ray gun, and then completely blanked you, would you stand watch if they slipped into an unshakeable sleep?

It’s these earlier things that make Wall*E work though. True the setpiece arrives where he puts his life on the line, but we’re used to these huge heroic gestures in film, we’re not used to the little stuff, and that’s why his character works.

There are however cynics out there. A breed of people so warped, so introverted and so up their own shiny metal asses, that they have lost sight of what Wall*E is about, and to me it’s worrying.
Surfing on a rather popular movie site, let’s call it Web Film File Collection, I perused the message boards of the Wall*E page looking to see what comment had been passed. I don’t post their that often because to be fair it’s overrun by self righteous moron’s, and my point was proven when I came across a post from someone who shall remain nameless lest they use OWF. They had argued that Wall*E was a let down (they might even have said lame, which is like, so, y’know, lame.) because the ending wasn’t (and I really to this day can’t believe this was said) “dark enough.”

What on earth were they expecting? Just because at the end of Life is Beautiful it’s alright to kill Guido, doesn’t make it alright to kill Wall*E. There’s a reason the two films have vastly differing age certificates, and yet wholly similar messages, and that’s because one’s a kids film. It’s not rocket science to work out.

Imagine the egg on the face of Pixar if hundreds of kids stream from the cinema’s bawling their eyes out because Wall*E didn’t reboot? Or if they’d have let Sid have his wicked way and blast Buzz into space before decapitating Woody? What if Princess Fiona had told Shrek that his resemblance to Wayne Rooney was to much to deal with, and she wanted to go back to being a human? It just wouldn’t have worked.

The sad thing is however, there are people who don’t believe in happy endings anymore. People can’t accept the “Hollywood” ending where it all comes out alright, because it’s “cheesy.” Some people are now so bitter and twisted about what’s going on in their own lives, they don’t believe things can get any better, and therefore films shouldn’t show a supposedly false reality. The thing is however, that if these people believed in a happy ending, they might find it for themselves. If the poster on that other forum hadn’t been so concerned with “offing” Wall-e then he might have looked deeper at the message Wall*E is trying to get across.

It doesn’t matter how bad things are. It doesn’t matter if you feel you’ve got a world of crap to clean up and no-one to help you. If you’re nice to people, nice things will happen back. Sure you’ll endure drama’s along the way, but you shouldn’t give up. Call me a sentimental fool, or an old romantic, or anything less tasteful – I don’t care, I just think that if we all tried to be a bit more Wall*E, things might start getting better.

RIP Max Cunningham

Last week, one of the saddest events in British soap history occured; the death of Max Cunningham.

For my generation, Hollyoaks has often been the first step into the world of soap opera viewing. It's a nice stop gap between the childishness of Grange Hill (created by the same guy), and the miserablist nature of the adult world, so wonderfully encapsulated by Eastenders.

Hollyoaks is a world that is populated by a high proportion of the beautiful people of the world (with the exception of my kinswoman, Chloe Bruce.) Even the geeks and the freaks were hot, and most of them managed at some point to cheerily shrug off any personality affliction that they might have been bestowed with, to find the preppy style confidence that would net them a partner.

Not Max though. Max was one of the few average joe's left on TV. He bumbled his way through life, living on chance after chance, and enjoying getting truly sozzled with his best mate OB. He wasn't one of these lads who was out down the town dropping chat up lines to any piece of skirt that showed up on his radar, he was more interested in having a laugh. He also fell for all the wrong women. His step sister Mandy for one. Mentallist would be murderess Claire next. Even his final relationship was with much maligned Stephanie (de la) Dean, the local trouble maker in her youth, and spiteful brat ever since.

Max also wasn't one of the muscle bound hunks that this show produces. He didn't have the latest funky hairstyle, although it did become clear when him and OB had discovered straightners. Yet that to couldn't take away from the fact that here was an uncomplicated, likeable, chancer. A loser in life, but one who kept smiling and enjoying it all the same because it'd all work out sooner or later, and somehow.

In essence though, he was the screen version of me, and countless other blokes like me. We aren't the sort of blokes who are going to be parading round with rippling six packs. We might have open six packs of Carling, but that's as close as we get. We don't know how to drop the perfect line to the fit blonde at the bar. To be honest, we don't really want to either, we'd rather just have a laugh with our mates. Women aren't about pointscoring. The main thing as well, is that we don't have the answers to life, we just keep plodding along in the certain knowledge that it'll all be ok.

Max Cunningham never had the answers, he plodded along until he reached his zenit, marrying Steph on "the best day" of his life. All of us bumblers can be reassured of the fact that we should just keep on enjoying it, and live with no regrets. The only thing I worry about, is that there isn't another character like him on TV, no one else with his imperfections. Now all we're left with is cliched characters who be geek, freak or chic, will always prevail very quickly. TV is back to living a lie, and for future generations of losers, that's a shame.

RIP Max, you gave a lot of us hope.

I'm a little narked right now...

Maybe it's the lack of sleep caused by my bodies irrational desire to wake up at 7am this morning when I only rolled in at half two, but sadly I've got the feeling that's not it.

I think my major annoyance is that I'm going to have to make a substantial decision, and being a modern metrosexual guy, I don't want to have to do that.

I'm faced with the dilemma of what route my life takes next. You see, I've just flunked a teacher training course. It's not that I'm a crap teacher, I was pretty good at all that sort of thing, it was that I'm a lazy teacher. The paperwork you have to plough through to become a teacher is monstrous, and to be fair, I was far more inclined to do other stuff. Like have fun. Those brave souls on my course who, a mere week after me, passed and gained their NQT status are exactly that. Or sadists. Seeing the inevitable photo's of them celebrating on Facebook, only served to remind me what a close escape I've had. True they'll lap up the next six weeks of doing sweet FA, and there I'm jealous, but once that silver lining has disapated and September strikes, they're going to be weighed down with a workload that even the residents of Auschwitz wouldn't have got out of bed for. The way that job sucks and saps at your very soul is unbelievable, and the day I found out I wasn't going to be a teacher, although originally tinged with sadness, soon became a moment of relief. Problem is, what do I do now?

With a degree in Media, and an almost qualification as an English teacher, the world should be my oyster. Except I live in the arse end of nowhere, and sadly, no ones crying out for someone to join their Video Production team in Nuneaton. Bedworth seems bereft of opportunities for Video Journalists, and Hinckley isn't interested in hiring a freelance writer. I've managed to find one job at Horse & Country TV, but in three weeks thats all.

I should really leave. I should pack my bags and move to the Smoke, where the streets are paved with the same tarmac you get up here, it's just that there's more of them, and they've got more buildings along them, with more jobs. Problem is, I've got the dreaded C word. Not cancer, no, this is far more deadly to a man. Commitments.

Having a girlfriend is a wonderful idea, however, if said girlfriend can't move away from your silly backwater town for whatever reason, you are faced with my current scenario. I could leave her and go off and do my own thing, but I don't like to see women crying (which she would) and I've grown sort of fond of her (I suppose.) This then leaves that wonderful rock and hard place feeling, that gnaws down until you finally reach the solution that all men will finally come too...

I will wait and wait and wait until someone gets the answer for me. And until then, I'll be bloody miserable about it. I'm a bloke after all.