Ghostly thoughts

As it's Hallowe'en (note the pedantic, correct spelling), I've been thinking about spooky things, witches, ghosts, monsters and ghoulies (not goolies - that's someting else entirely). So, apparitions and poltergeists are things that we all think may be there but we never see. Something else which I know is there but never see are comments from my dear readers. That's you.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful that a few misguided souls out there actually peruse my little literary oasis, sitting here quietly on the interwebnet. I'm also eternally grateful to those of you who do pop your thoughts in the old Comments box and share them with the rest of us - especially my super comment-er who so kindly gives regular feedback on my inane ramblings. I'd just love to hear thoughts from the rest of you from time to time. Really, I would. Really.

It's really easy to do. You just click on the word 'Comments' which is below each posting. In the box that opens just scroll to the space where you type in what you want to say, complete the word verification section and then choose 'anonymous' or 'other' (unless you are a fellow Blogger) as your identity and click "Publish your comment'. You're done. Easy. Then I can put your feedback on the site and your valued input will be there for the world to see. Ain't that just swell?

Failing that - just send cash to my PayPal account.

Good ol' global warming

Now I know the imminent demise of our fair planet is both extremely serious and wholly depressing but surely 'every cloud has a silver lining'? Take yesterday for example (see the photo). It was the 29th of October, in England and it was 64 degrees. Not only that, the air was still and the sky was blue. Warm sun blazed down on the river and the canal as dozens of people enjoyed a beautiful summer-like stroll.

Of course the downside of this idyllic scene is that it is being generated (so some scientists say) by the burning of fossil fuels, CFC's, carbon emissions and all the other fun activities we humans have been getting up to in the last couple of centuries. I suppose we should have known that all this naughty behaviour would eventually cause a cataclysmic environmental disaster but to be honest, who cared? The only people who ever used to get upset about this sort of thing were baggy jumper-wearing, tent-dwelling, humungously-bearded activists. Some of them were men too. Well, it appears that this little Earth of ours is becoming distinctly unwell and unfortunately there is no planetary health scheme which can help repair it.

As it all seems so hopeless and depressing, I reckon we might as well enjoy the benefits of a global warming. So if that means a warm autumnal walk, a blistering summer's day at the beach or an exciting local flash flood then I think we should just go with the flow / deluge. Now maybe that all sounds a bit dismissive and lacking in any genuine concern for the environment. However, aside from doing my bit - recycling household waste, switching off lights and turning down the central heating - what else can I do that the industries and governments of the world cannot?
I do what I can and after that? Sod it. Slap on the suntan lotion and catch some rays is what I say. I mean, you're born and then you die so you may as well enjoy the bit in the middle.

Even if it means burning like a spit-roasted pig. Vegetarian option available

Oh yeah

Life is good. My neck is feeling better; Birmingham won again; my car is nearly paid for and I've got a whole weekend off. Now you may say that I'm easily pleased and you'd be right. Mind you, I've just had the best part of a whole bottle of classy white wine and I'm listening to iTunes as I type. So, yes, things are pretty good. You want details? No? Well here they are anyway.

Due to the advice from my doctor, sitting bolt upright at work and in my car; doing neck exercises and sleeping with just one (god, that's difficult) pillow have all helped to make me feel ever so slightly human again.

Birmingham (City FC) won again today against local rivals West Brom. In the past few weeks things have been a bit todge for the Blues and there were even rumblings about the boss (Steve Bruce) possibly getting the elbow. However, a trio of victories have changed all that and we are now equal fifth in the league and still in the League Cup.

And yes, after five long years, I make my final payment on my car in mid-November. I shall be several quid better off each month which fills me with considerable joy and self-satisfaction. So what shall I spend my extra cash on? Answers on an email to 'bornthendie@mac.com'.

So, I'm feeling pretty chuffed with myself at the moment which means that something terrible is bound to happen, such as one of my limbs developing deep-vein thrombosis during the night or tribe of murderous, psychopathic Slovakian commis chefs invading the back garden and setting up an open air-cookery school for foreign dissidents. That would be just typical.
I feel, therefore, that I must make the most of things while the going is good and take a few risks.

I'm going to eat the 19 day-old cauliflower that's festering in the fridge.

Pain in the neck - part II

I posted previously about my manky neck. Well you'll be delighted to know that it's still there. The pain, not my neck. Although, of course, my neck is still there. Anyway, I finally went to the doc's yesterday and was told that I have a "chronic neck injury". Oh joy. It's all to do with the fibrous muscles which are connected to my spine being in spasm, pretty much constantly. More joy. It looks like I've developed this delightful affliction over a sustained period and that it's caused by things like being on the computer; the way I've been sitting and possibly just generally giving the left side of my neck some grief.

And the cure? Don't sit wrong, lie wrong or use the computer mouse wrong. I also have to do neck exercises that make me look like a simpleton. Added to this I need to have my chair at work and my car seat, bolt upright. I look like a right old duffer as I'm driving along with my head touching the roof of the car and then twisting my whole body round when I need to look right. I've seen people tittering.

It's doing my head in. Sometimes the pain in my neck is bad enough to make wish for a distraction. I've even considered dropping a couple of live lobsters down my trousers or gargling a cup of Windowlene for a bit of light relief. Oh well, I'm sure things will be back to normal soon enough.

Yes. I am brave aren't I?

Past the 100!

Hello and welcome to posting 101. Well, I'm obviously extremely proud to be here on this momentous occasion. Of course, I'd like to thank my parents, my wife, my family, my lawyer, my chiropractor, my cat, my high school geology teacher, my cholonic-irrigantionist, my friends & colleagues and finally, my old neighbour - Pat (for not letting on about my little incident with badger and the morphine) for all their love and support ... sorry, I'm a little emotional .... I just want this to be a reminder to everyone about all the suffering there is in the world. It's time we stopped global-warming and people-trafficking. We need to fight oppression and torture which is so rampant in so many corrupt regimes. We must stand against the onslaught of worldwide consumerism. And we must fight those who serve 'brown' sauce instead of proper HP Sauce in roadside cafes.

So, thank you to all / both my loyal readers. I never thought I'd keep going with YBATYD but, after a few wobbly bits (that's not a literal 'wobbly') I've hopefully managed to provide the odd nano-second of joy to a few precious souls. I intend to continue with my scholarly ramblings for as long as I'm mentally able. So that's the next 4 months guaranteed then.

Please keep enjoying the blog and please keep commenting or emailing me. I just love a bit of typographical banter you know. Oh and if anyone wants to send me money / precious metals / tinned fish, I shall accept them all graciously. So then, YBATYD continues and who knows, maybe one day it will be recognised for the literary genius I know it is.

Now where did I put my anti-dementia pills?

'Nice'-land?

A colleague of mine at work popped over to Iceland last week for a short break. Before the jokes start, no, he didn't visit the discount, frozen food emporium. He went to the actual country (103,000 sq km /39,769 sq miles; population: 294,000; capital: Reykjavik; major language: Icelandic; main exports: fish and fish products, metals) to experience everything it has to offer. Here then is a summary of events and facts from his trip:

A pint of beer costs £8.00 (That's $15)
He was the only guest at the hotel Hrauneyjar in Hrauneyjarfoss
He hired a 4x4 car but stoved it into a snow drift. He escaped after removing "something from underneath the car"
At a restaurant in Akureyri there was horse meat and whale meat on offer
It was windy. Very windy. Average wind speed was 23 metres a second (60-70 mph)
At the hotel Hrauneyjar in Hrauneyjarfoss they serve meals to the workers at the nearby hydro-electric plant. On Fridays', as part of the set menu, they offer sheeps' heads. Click on the photo

So that I and my other colleagues may enjoy a flavour of Iceland, he bought us back a special culinary treat. Dried fish flakes. Here are several words that describe them: abominable, awful, beastly, detestable, distasteful, foul, frightful, ghastly, gruesome, hateful, hideous, horrid, loathsome, monstrous, nasty, nauseating, objectionable, obnoxious, odious, offensive, outrageous, rank, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, rotten, satiating, stinking, surfeiting, and vile.

Still, better than a bloody sheep's head. Even with gravy.

Sunday wedding

Just got back from a wedding reception. Yeah, I know, on a Sunday. Therefore, I'm going to be a tad tired tomorrow ('cos I'm a lightweight). However, the folks at the 'do' didn't let us down. There were the obligatory drunk dads 'dancing' to Bohemian Rhapsody and Tainted Love along with an assortment of small children, charging around in a variety of junior dinner jackets and small-person, satin bridesmaid dresses.

The buffet was spot on and even featured a blast from the past in the form of cheese and pineapple on cocktails sticks. A classic. The bride looked radiant and the groom looked hammered but extremely pleased with himself. I think they're off to Prague for the honeymoon.

All in all, a really nice evening and a chance to make an effort in the personal presentation department - I had a shower and a shave. I hope they have a long and happy marriage together.

Well, long anyway!

Podcast ... possibly?

How much drivel can you stand? If it's not bad enough reading the pages of tripe that I churn out on this 'ere blog, I'm considering a YBATYD podcast. I actually did a couple of trial podcasts a while ago but having just taken delivery of iLife 06 for my Mac, I can now produce something decent. Er, I hope.

Now the thing is, a)who would want to hear it? b)will it have enough content? c)can I be arsed? I reckon I'd have to rely on plenty of humorous stories and info from t'internet alongside my own creative genius. Ooops - modesty alert. Well, I'm working on some bits 'n' bobs right now, so if things work out then I may well give it a go. Of course the YBATYD blog will continue whatever happens, so don't go chucking yourselves of bridges/tall buildings/coffee tables just yet. Crikey - I do like putting pressure on myself don't I?

It's not easy being a hero.

Crashed rozzer car

Well, I couldn't think of anything interesting to write today, so I cheated. So here's a bit of footage I caught on my mobile phone last year.

What a different world it would be

When I wake up at 5.14am and can't get back to sleep, my mind doesn't half become active. Possibly because at that time of the morning I am still clinically deceased and therefore not quite 'with it'. Anyway, my brain never ceases to amaze and intrigue me so it was no surprise to me when I had the following thought - 'what a different world it would be if cars had never been invented'. Specifically, if the internal combustion engine had never been invented.

The trick with this one is to imagine a world bereft of all vehicles. No cars, buses, lorries or motorbikes. Instead - horses and carts. However, the rest of the world is just the same. So there are computers, satellite telly, Bush & Blair, Marmite, mobile phones, edible underwear and double-glazing salesmen. So everything is exactly as you see it right now dear reader, except that the roads are full of horses and carts. This takes some thinking about, so here are a few things that popped into my head as I cogitated this morning:

Car tax would become Cart tax. Cart tax would pay for clearance of horse poo
Lorries would become extra large carts pulled by teams of Shire horses
Carts would be made by existing companies like Ford, Toyota, Land Rover and Ferrari
You'd still have to pass a driving test, including a three-point turn with a horse
Petrol stations would instead be Hay depots with different grades and prices of hay
Traffic lights, roundabouts and motorways would still exist
The speed limit in towns would be 6 mph and 12 mph on motorways
Like cars, carts/carriages would have SatNav, CD players, headlights and air con
Drive-Thru MacDonalds'would still exist but would be re-named Trot-Thru's
Youths would still go joyriding, albeit at about 13 mph
Both horses and carts would require a yearly MOT
Kwik-Fit would replace cart wheels along with horseshoes
Some people would still add spoilers and go-faster stripes to their carts

Wouldn't it be amazing to see the world like this? I'm just imagining the large Argos cart pulling up outside my house to deliver the new fridge freezer. Or a couple of boy racers at the traffic lights, just waiting to race each other with their respective second-hand carts. Just think what the M25 would look like at 'rush' hour or your local NCP car park. Fabulous!

I could go on, but I've got to feed Dobbin before I go to Tesco's.

Oh go on!

One Day in History is a project aiming to create an online archive of a day in the life of the UK. The BBC website says "The National Trust is encouraging people to record a diary of their day on a website, as part of what is being called 'Britain's biggest blog'. The blogs will then be stored by the British Library and at other locations".

So basically, it's your chance to leave your mark on history. Your 15 minutes of fame if you like. I've done mine and to be honest, it felt quite nice to be contributing to a fairly momentous event. So I think it's a great opportunity for everyone to have their say and let the world know what dull lives we all lead. So just click the title of this posting and it'll take you straight to the site.

Go on. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on ... (etc to fade)

USPAS comment killer

Doh! I made a boo-boo. There's me banging on about how easy it is now to leave me a comment and then I go and make a schoolboy error. So, I get a fabulous bit of creative literature (USPAS - needs explaining) from a generous correspondent and what do I do? I publish it then I delete it! My God, it's a good job I'm not in charge of a nuclear missile base - "So red is 'launch missile' and green is the dinner bell - er, I've got that the wrong way round haven't I?" Thus instead of bangers and mash for everyone at the base, it would be global, thermonuclear war and the annihilation of the human race for ever.

OK, it's only someone's comment - but it's important. Now, if the person concerned can send that little comment to me again I can re-publish it. Believe me, I tried to get it back but like an otter in a flood - it just wouldn't return. If you've forgotten what you wrote then email me at 'bornthendie@mac.com' and I'll email you back with your comment and then you can post it on here again and then everyone can read and then I'll be happy and you'll be happy and then there will be world peace and everyone will be happy.

Happy now?

I wish my blog was famous

Yes, I know it's a bit sad but I'd love to have a famous, well-known blog. I'd even like to know how many regular readers I have. I know of a few loyal followers of my inane drivel (thanks to you - you know who you are) but who else reads my rambling waffle? Maybe I should write more interesting, controversial stuff. Or maybe I should drone on about social injustice; religous disquiet or political subversion?

Oh bugger it - I'll just keep posting stuff about manky trees, Homer Simpson and ... the smell of wee! Actually it's just come to me. Why does your wee smell of Sugar Puffs when you've eaten Sugar Puffs? If you don't know what they are then you'll just have to believe me when I tell you this is, indeed, the case. It doesn't happen with any other foodstuff. I don't recall my tiddle ever having the odour of a cinnamon bagel or spicy vegetable pasty. So why the sugary breakfast cereal? It really is a mystery and the sort of thing that keeps my brain ticking over. Actually, that's a rather worrying admission. My cognitive thought processes are kept stimulated by cogitating the science behind the causes of cereal-related wee smells. Surely there's more to me than that?

Obviously not.

When facelifts go wrong

If you've not read 'You're Born And Then You Die' before, then this posting will be utterly meaningless. Mind you, most of my postings are utterly meaningless. Anyway, I digress. A couple of weeks ago I changed the whole appearance of this blog (see previous postings) as I thought it needed a bit of a facelift. Well, we all know how facelifts can go horribly wrong - Joan Rivers springs to mind. So, the feedback I've been getting was that new look was just awful and somehow didn't sit well with my valued 'blogees'. And who am I to question you, dear reader?

So, it's back to black and I have to be honest - it looks damn sexy. It looks chic, sophisticated, articulate, sassy, responsive, proud, independent, glamorous, wanton, lustful, rampant ..... er, er .....

Time for my medicine. Enjoy.

Pain in the neck

I've knackered my neck. Well, not totally but I've definitely pulled a muscle or two and it's really painful. I did the same thing a few weeks ago, although I don't know what I did then so I don't know why the hell it hurts so much now. Due to the unremitting pain, I also have a semi-permanent headache too which is really special.

Therefore I'm not going to write a post today because I feel truly grotty. Ah. I seem to be writing a post. Bugger. Right, well I'm not writing any more now. I just need to repair my neck, give it some TLC and just be patient. Talking of being patient, I was thinking of popping down to the doc's but they'll only patronise me and give two junior Asprin, so I have decided to let my neck get better 'au natrel'. OK, time to stop typing.

My fingers are having sympathy pains.

Ping pong addiction

A friend of mine recommended this "great' game for my Xbox 360. I scoffed at his suggestion but I bought it because it was on offer at HMV. Well, what's £20 amongst friends? Mind you, I was extremely dubious about the whole thing ... until I played the little devil. What a laugh. What addictive jollity. What the hell am I doing?

I'm playing computer table tennis. Yes, I know. I thought it would be berserk/sad/infantile/pointless etc, but it's actually a truly wonderful and seriously addictive little game. So much so, I've managed to get repetitive strain injury in one thumb and three fingers in just over an hour. If I were in prison, that would be considered a form of torture. However, it's worth it for the pure enjoyment of charging round the virtual table as you attempt to master a multitude of spin shots, lobs, smashes and 'focus shots' (whatever the hell they are)whilst the music increases and the crowd whoop and clap a bit.

Trust me - it's cracking fun if you like that sort of thing. Even if you don't, you may just find yourself longing for a bit of bat and ball stimulation. My current favourite character is a little Chinese fella. He has quite an alarming face but his ball control is sublime and he has some very pleasing T-shirts, which is nice.


I think I should lie down for a while.

Bad hair day

This picture (click to enlarge) shows what happens when enthusiasm collides with ability. I saw this poor, mutilated effort of a tree recently and just had to take a snap of it on my phone. Now I don't know if this was done by the owner of the house or if they had actually paid someone to savage their prized arboreal treasure. Either way it looks like a mangled letter 'T'. I actually feel sorry for it and you can imagine all the other trees taunting it and rustling their leaves, just because they actually have some. On the bright side, branches, like hair do eventually grow back but it'll be years rather than weeks before the grotty-looking tree is back to its' former self.

Better find it a really large hat in the meantime.

Nuclear tip of the iceberg

North Korea today, apparently, did a bit of nuclear testing - as you do. They appear to have detonated a device underground at Gilju in Hamgyong province . Now this has caused rather a large amount of international concern and unease. The U.S said that test was a "provocative act", while China denounced it as "brazen". All in all, it looks like the global fear factor has just nudged up a notch.

Meanwhile, back in Blighty, I'm sitting here thinking that testing nuclear bombs is just another item in an ever increasing list of things we are (or are supposed to be) worried about. Here's a few of them: terrorism, heart disease, global-warming, saturated fats, knife crime, fuel prices, identity theft, pension shortfalls, youth gangs, MMR jabs, internet fraud, street robberies, interest rates, ozone depletion, prison overcrowding etc etc. So in the whole scheme of things, nuclear bomb testing actually ranks really quite low in the never-ending list of concerns I'm faced with every day. You know, it's almost a breath of fresh air.

Well, radiation-saturated air.

Feel free to comment

Not only do I now have a spanking new-look blog, but I have another exciting additional feature too. Oh yes indeedy, hold on to your hats; batten down the hatches and glue your pants to your hips - now you dear reader can leave me a comment about any post, anytime, anywhere, any place.

"Big deal" I hear you cry. However, until now you could only leave a comment if you were registered as a fellow blogger. This was clearly a pain in the arse (ass for our American readers). So now you can comment, criticize or congratulate me on any of my posts. Obviously any comments you make will be moderated by my good self. I'm sure none of you would ever leave a comment that was rude, offensive, defamatory, slanderous or abusive, which is a shame really.

I like that sort of thing.

Le Nano est ne tres bon

I am crap at French. However, I'm not bad at computers - despite what my computer-guru / genius chum may say. Anyway, as a big fan of Apple stuff (including my iMac) I'm feeling a tad miserable this Saturday evening. The reason for this mild depression is that my father-in-law's shiny new iPod Nano (see earlier post) turned out to be a Non-o as I spent most of the day at their house, trying to get his prized new possession to work properly.

However, despite all my spirited, technical attempts and those of the techie chaps at Apple, the Nano just wouldn't play nicely with the PC. It all started off fine and we were flying with the new iTunes installed (and updated Quicktime) and soon we had all his music sync'd with his Nano. Then we updated the Nano's firmware and it all went cack.

About 100 minutes of Apple assistance just couldn't solve the problem and in the end we all admitted defeat and arranged for a new one to be sent. Sacre bleu. My father-in-law was dejected but kept a stiff upper lip and a cheery disposition. I, however felt about as jolly as lap dancer in a monastery. As I write, my own iPod is happily belting out thumping drum 'n' bass (or is it Gloria Estefan?) into my lugholes. In fact the little bleeder seems to be rubbing salt into my wounds by just, well, working. Never mind though. I'm sure that by next week, my father-in-law will be bopping round the lounge/garden/Turkish bath listening to something from the 50's on his new, new Nano.

Or digging out his cassettes/78's/wax cylinder. We shall see...

New look

I thought it was about time to refresh the look of YBATYD. Actually, my wife thought it was about time as she has always said that reading white text on a black background does your eyes in. She also felt that it looked a tad messy and generally not a gourmet feast for the optic nerves. So who am I to argue? I definitely agree with the white on black thing. Anyway, I reckon the new look is far classier and comes across as really quite professional.

Obviously the content is the same old tripe.

What is Autumn for?

When you talk about dying, most people say something like "I hope I go quickly" which is a truly sensible way of thinking. No-one wants a lingering death do they? So why the bloody hell does Autumn come along every year to drag out the whole miserable descent into the valley of death - Winter?

Winter in Britain is depressing enough without two months of doom-laden pre-amble. Not only do the nights get slowly gloomier and gloomier but the leaves on all the trees slowly die and then rot in great mounds while dank and dismal fog shrouds the landscape like the Grim Reaper's death shroud. It's such a painful journey from Summer into Winter and it would be so much better without it.

So, how much better and more fun would it be if you went straight from one season into the next? Imagine - 85 degrees, blazing sunshine and melting roads one day; 5 degrees below freezing, snow and icy roads the next. It would be chaos - especially in Britain as we're abysmal at dealing with even the slightest fluctuation in our weather. When it gets a bit warm we get water shortages and hosepipe bans. When it gets a bit cold we get gridlock on the roads and power cuts. So an instant switch from Summer to Winter would be a right laugh. So, Autumn - it's a waste of time and effort and we don't need it.

Spring can stay though. You want a nice slow-burn build-up to Summer. That great feeling that things are getting better, warmer, brighter and greener as Summer gets ever closer. Lambs gambolling in verdant meadows; daffodils swaying in a warming breeze and politicians canvassing for local elections. You can't beat Spring.

Unless you include Summer. But not Winter. Or Autumn.

Pie in the Sky

Sky's excellent satellite television broadcasting; wonderful customer service and cutting-edge technology all make for a first-class reputation. That's why we've had Sky for years and it's been a really positive, value for money experience. So when Sky announced, in the summer, that they were going to introduce a broadband internet service - I was at the front of the queue.

Alas, now I have left the queue and don't plan to return anytime soon. I registered my interest back in July and by August I'd received an invitation from Sky to get my broadband from them. I called them on 24th August and did the necessary which included giving Sky my migration (MAC)code from my existing supplier - BT. A week later I had a letter from Sky saying there was a problem and to give them a call.

I called Sky on 4th September and was told that my MAC code had been rejected. I offered to provide it again but was told I didn't need to - it would be submitted and everything would be fine. I was told that there were problems getting the routers (like modems) out to people. Again, this would be fine as it would be chased and I would receive it soon. Great.

By the 1st October, I was becoming just a teensy bit cheesed-off as I'd neither received or heard anything in the past 4 weeks. I rang Sky. It transpired that after my call on 4th September, nothing had happened to my order. Nowt. Zero. Nil. Zilch. Bugger all. It also transpired that the reason my MAC code had been rejected was because it had been entered in lower case instead of upper case. This should have been known by the staff apparently. The router was never chased.

Surprisingly I decided to cancel my order - well, my non-order. I also asked if the forty quid I'd forked out for the privilege of getting Sky broadband, could be given back to me. The chap on the phone admitted that they were having problems with people's orders and that mine had been "a catalogue of disasters". Encouraging.

So I'm still with BT, who, I must point out, have always provided a great broadband service for me. The only reason I wanted to change was due to cost. £15 a month from BT versus £0 from Sky. So Sky were offering broadband for free. However, as they say: "You get what you pay for" and I sure did.

Sky's broadband cost nothing and I got nothing.

Man-o with Nano

Great news. My father-in-law is 60. No, that's not the great news. The great news is that he's just taken delivery of a shiny new iPod Nano. It's his first foray into the world of portable digital music and I think he's just a tad excited.


I'm a big fan of 'silver surfers'. You know, the older generation who are taking on the challenge of using today's technology. However, it's surprising how many of the younger generation are not au fait with wi-fi, contention ratios, cache-emptying and even Sky Plus. So anyone of more mature years who really gives technology a go is alright by me.

A good example is my mum. She is, let's say, a fair way beyond 70 but she is a demon texter and loves pressing the old red button to get BBCi on her Freeview. This may all seem easy, obvious and commonplace but if you were over 60 when mobile phones first came out, just imagine how alien a concept they would seem when you had been used to two cans and a piece of string for communication.

So now my father-in-law has a Nano. I've already introduced him to iTunes and digital photography so now I want him to visit the land of playlists, album art and podcasts. I get the feeling he's like a kid in a candy store at the moment, which is great. I thought he would take ages deciding exactly what MP3 player to buy because he does like to take his time when it comes to electronic purchases. I think it took him about 18 months to decide what sort of new PC to buy. Bless him. At least he's redeemed himself now with his speedy Nano purchase.

I just hope he can switch the bloody thing on.

Hooray for Sild

You've probably never heard of Sild. However, I love the stuff. Not to eat you understand, oh no. I just love the stupid name and the fact that Sild is nothing more than young Herring. What a fabulous name for a teenage fish. I believe you can still buy it in supermarkets but I'm thinking it may have a limited market in the UK. Or anywhere else on the planet.

I used to have a tin of it which I kept on a shelf in the kitchen. I only kept it because it was always a talking point. Firstly because people would ask what the hell it was and secondly because they would wonder why I kept it. Obviously you have to be a bit soft in the head to keep a tin of fish on a shelf for four years, but actually I saw it more as a celebration of something just pointless. I mean, why young herring? And also, who came up with the catchy name?

Probably the same people who thought of Cilit Bang

Happy car

Oh happy day. My motor is all better, thanks to the nice car doctors. I'm well chuffed, especially as now I won't have to rely on public transport/cattle trucks to move me around the city. Of course, car-mending comes at a price. This time round it was a rather hefty KRW 332,886. You may notice that I've not given the price in £'s. I just thought it would oh so exciting to give it to you in South Korean Won's. I could just have easily given it to you in Venezualan Bolivars (Be 755,066) which is fine if you live in Venezuala. Not so good if you live Bury St Edmunds.

Anyway, the car is back and my freedom has been restored. Mind you, I have to admit that my rather fabulous wife has actually chauffered me to and from work a couple of times this week. I felt like bloody royalty being driven door to door. The only problem was that my wife felt the need to take the chauffeur role to heart. She's invoiced me for £119.

That's VND 3,574,744.93 (Vietnamese Dong) if you're interested.

Getting fruity

In response to my recent post about what to do with my pears, I had a winning suggestion. Obviously I could have chosen the 'steamed pears with pheasant and roast parsnips' or 'glazed pears with wild rasperries and devon cream' but there was only one clear winner. One kind respondent suggested chucking the pears in with a load of booze and just necking the lot. Subtle? No. Fun, easy and morally reprehensible? Definitely.

10/10

Public transport snob?

I think I may be a public transport snob. OK, I know I am. It's not my fault, honestly. The thing is, I've always had a car. As soon as I could drive I saved up like madman and bought my first car. It was a Ford Nail or a Vauxhall Turgid I think and it gave me unbridled, low-speed, leaky, smoky, bald-tyre freedom. It was wonderful.

So imagine my horror when my current car (not a 'Nail' or a 'Turgid') became poorly the other day. Until I can get it to the garage on Friday, it's meant - public transport. Dear God. Now I know millions of people, including you dear reader, utilize buses, trains, trams and rickshaws every day without batting an eyelid.

However, no-one will ever convince me that standing ('cos all the seats are taken) on a packed, sweaty/freezing bus full of fag-smoking baked-beaners, mad old women smelling of tinned fish and hordes of grotty kids yelling "bovvered?" at each other whilst forcing everyone on the bus to endure the latest ditty by Slipknot as it blares out of a tinny mobile phone speaker, is preferable. Preferable to relaxing into my comfy, sweet smelling car as I pop a CD on whilst slipping the gear into waft mode and cruising sedately home. Perfect. So call me a snob, but really, is there anything better than driving yourself to where you want to go?

Taxi!

Brilliant words - number 1

Mallemaroking. Not only is this a great word to read and to say, it also has the most specific meaning of any word I've ever known. So what does it mean then?

It actually means 'The carousing (drunken merry-making) of seamen on board Greenland whaling ships'. Now how specific is that? Not just merry-making on any ships, but whaling ships and not just any whaling ships but ones only from Greenland! So you can't go mallemaroking on a Portsmouth to Le Harve ferry with a load of Danish social workers. Oh no. Only hammered sailors from Greenland hunting arctic whales just off the Faroe Islands will qualify.

Perhaps there's a word for deluded old men, wearing pyjamas, shouting at traffic in Kidderminster on Friday afternoons.

God, I hope so.

A lovely pair

In lieu of anything interesting to write - see the lack of postings recently - I am letting you know that we have a lovely pair of pear trees in our garden. Oh yes. And the good news is that both trees have produced a bumper crop this year. Nice one global warming.

The bad news is that I don't know any pear recipes, other than 'pears with a bit of ice cream' which is not the most imaginative culinary creation. I've tried to invent some but 'pears in gravy', 'pear and liver roulade', 'stir fried pears' and 'pears au tripe' just don't seem appealing. Or edible.

So, if anyone has an exciting, vibrant and cosmoplitan suggestion as to what I can do with a lovely pear, please drop me an email and I'll give it a try.

Or I could just let them all rot.

Captain Pugwash lives on

Ahoy there me hearties. Well things are good. Especially when the young children of today are, for some unfathomable reason, introduced to kids shows of yesteryear. Yes indeedy dear reader. My wife and I were availing ourselves of our local Tesco when I espied a fantastic sight - see the photo. Yes, it was a Captain Pugwash kiddies ride!

Not only was it a Pugwash ride, but the evil Blackbeard was also there - see the photo. So well done to Tesco for keeping old kids TV shows alive and kicking (subject to payment of 50p) and allowing a brand new generation of little 'uns to experience the joys of proper childrens's programming.

Excluding Andy Pandy, which was crap.

Sleepwalking

A guy I work with told me something amazing. He apparently sleepwalks from time to time. However, when he was at college he also had a few part-time jobs which meant he was getting extremely tired.

One night, he collapsed in his grotty, student-style bed. When he woke up, he was on the bus; on his way to college; fully dressed and with his rucksack over his shoulder. Now he swears this is true and if so, it is really unbelievable.

It reminded me of a show that was on telly a couple of months ago which was basically about people who had billy-bifters (sex) whilst they were asleep! Seriously, how wrong and bizarre is that?

Mind you, it saves on the cost of a romantic meal I suppose.

Ear ear

You know those ridiculous-looking bluetooth headsets? Well, if you do use one because you really need to, I apologise but honestly - they are just hilarious and are worn exclusively by blokes trying to look like someone from Star Trek who's expecting an intergalactic message from the chief Klingon at any second. Sorry, but they just make me laugh.

So imagine my joy today when I saw my first ever woman who was wearing one and not only that, she was about 50 as well. Now that amused me enough, but wait - this is the best bit. She had colour-co-ordinated her earpiece with her outfit! Her Klingon headset was blue and black, as were her earrings and she was wearing a black suit with a blue scarf. She still looked berserk with a lump of plastic nailed to the side of her head, but she was doing it with style.

Don't think she'd have looked as good in just her support tights though.

Vive la 2CV

The Citroen 2CV was, surely the greatest car ever made. I owned two of the quirky little French motors and can honestly say they were the most fun you can have in a car without visiting the back seat. The Citroen 2CV was born in 1939 and was intended for use by French farmers as a way of lugging spuds and sheep over rough terrain. However, the day after production began war was declared which was really inconvenient. Thus, the car had to wait until 1948 to be unveiled to the world. Sacre bleu.

Sadly, the last 2CV's were produced back in 1990 so they are becoming more and more rare. I owned two of them and obviously, I gave them names. These names I felt suited their character and eccentric nature: Stan & Alf. May they rest in peace.

So why were/are these berserk vehicles so great? Here's my list:

The gear stick poked out of the dashboard and all the gears were back to front.
The engine was air-cooled so didn't over heat or freeze in the winter.
It had a crank handle to start the engine if the battery died.
You could take the whole back seat out and use it as a sofa - in fields.
The suspension was so soft you could mount kerbs without noticing.
It could corner faster than any car on the road - really.
You could put a brick on the accelerator to give you cruise control.
The air-conditioning was just two metal panels that lifted up under the windscreen.
The whole roof rolled back so you could have a fantastic convertible.
Everyone pointed and laughed at you - making you feel special.

So next time you see a car like the one in the photo (it's the same as Stan), give the driver a cheery wave, a smile and knowing look that says "you may be a funny little man in a funny little car, but a bit of me, just a bit, is really jealous"

Tres bon.

1.5 x 2 = 7

My wife and I decided to go for a nice walk in the countryside the other day. We went to a place she and her family used to visit years ago. They used to hire bikes and enjoy a leisurely cycle ride. Lovely.

The only thing is, my wife got her memories and details a bit mixed up. We were supposed to walk for a mile and a half until we got to the cycle hire place and a car park. Then we'd have a nice mile and a half stroll back to where we started. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly what happened.

After 45 minutes walking, I expressed extreme surprise that we hadn't managed to walk the 1.5 miles already, especially considering that normal walking pace is 3-4 miles per hour. Anyway, we trudged on and on and on. Finally, we arrived at the (now) legendary cycle hire place and car park. Ah. We seem to have walked 3.5 miles.

A small oversight. However, this meant a 3.5 mile return trip and although the scenery was really picturesque and the weather gorgeous, 7 miles was a tad more than we had planned. We made it back OK, but were just a teeny bit fatigued. Mind you, we had a cracking time. We met plenty of people (mainly on bikes though) and chatted constantly the whole way.

We didn't discuss maths though.

Cup winner

Following on from my previous post, I've had a huge number of emails. Well, several. Anyway, the winner of the (fictitious)cup is Lukasz from Poland who contacted me to say that his ex-girlfriend had undergone surgery for a breast augmentation. Unfortunately for Luk, his good lady's new boobs were so large that he was actually scared to go near them. He finished with her just 2 weeks after the op.

So my sympathies to him for a clearly un-nerving experience. Mind you, I can't actually imagine being scared of a lady's bosoms. As the lyrics in Cornershop's song 'Brimful of Asha' said "Everbody needs a bosom for a pillow".

But perhaps not a duvet as well.

Plastic Fantastic - or not

I was in the pub a couple of nights ago and the conversation arose (well, I started it) about false boobs. OK, now enough sniggering. This was a serious psychological, physiological and sociological discussion. No really, it was.

The question I posed was: "Would you ever have a boob job / want your partner to have a boob job?" Now, admittedly, the sample size was a bit on the small size (five people) but the result was unanimous. A definite 'no'. Now this discussion was only based on women wanting a new 'set' for cosmetic reasons.

Some of the ladies said that whilst they might like a, er, 'fuller' figure, they definitely wouldn't want surgery to achieve a desired look. The blokes approached it from a slightly different angle. They thought that 'falsies' usually looked really obvious and often ridiculous. I suggested that the reason for this was that often women wanted to look considerably enhanced or improved following surgery. This is partly due to the feelgood factor but also due to the amount of money spent. BUPA hospitals charge around £4,500 for a 'breast augmentation' so if you're paying that sort of cash, you want value for money. Thus, some women will go from an 'A' cup to a 'DD' in one afternoon. Now that's what I call inflation.

Anyway, the other thing people said was that false boobs actually feel false and this was a big no-no for the chaps. One of the women mentioned that nowadays the implant itself can be inserted under the muscle rather than just under the skin. This apparently gives a more realistic look and feel. However, I began to feel a bit ill at this point so I can't go into more detail on that.

In summary, whilst false boobs may look great under clothing, when unleashed they look un-natural and even amusing. They don't feel like they should and are generally seen (by five of us at least) as undesireable and un-sexy. What do you think? Email me your thoughts (God, no photo's please) and I'll publish the results. Just click the email link on the right of the page.

The best email wins a cup. Sizes AA - G available.

Pretty in pink?

Do girls really love the colour pink that much? Apparently so. According to research both girls and adult women are strongly attracted to the colour. The marketing departments of many stores really capitalise on this and that includes Sony who have recently released the pink PS2 (click on pic above to enlarge) and the pink PSP. I think both of them look vile. They belong in a Parisan massage parlour from 1906.

However, the research clearly shows that pink is seen as feminine by most people. Veronika Koller from Lancaster University conducted some detailed investigations into the whole subject of colour and how it is used and perceived by the public. She found that 76.3% of respondants (to her questionnaire) strongly associated pink with femininity. She goes into exhaustive detail about the whole subject, but fails to answer one critical question: We know lasses like pink, but why do men choose really crap colours like beige, taupe and battleship grey then? She doesn't say.

Personally, I don't think you can beat maroon.

Zoo's are great

Well I'm back from the barren spell of not posting. This was entirely due to having 12 days off work and spending loads of time having fun. This included going to the zoo with my wife - and several hundred other people.

So, the zoo was great. It's a lovely place with no real commercial feel to it and is surrounded by countryside so you feel at one with nature. And elephant poo.

There are a couple of things I really like about zoos. Firstly, the way 'wild' animals are allowed to become ever-so-slightly domesticated. For example, the gorillas have TV's in their enclosures; the orangutans have old cardigans and sheets and the chimps have plastic bins and Ribena bottles. Wouldn't it be great to see a group of mountain gorillas watching an episode of 'Strictly Come Dancing' in the middle of an east-central African rainforest?

The second thing I like is the large open enclosures that are filled with tree stumps, huge mounds of earth, vines, burrows and exotic vegetation, but not one sodding animal. The poor punters gawp for hours in the vain hope of actually seeing an albino hunting-shrew or a nine-footed sloth but to no avail. Just shrubs and dirt.

However, the best bit about our visit was the bonkers-mental monkeys and gibbons who, at regular intervals would go completely bananas (see what I did there?) and start whooping, screaming and "ooh-ooh aah-ing" like furry psychopaths. It was really funny and they seemed to be goading each other in to making more and more extreme noises. Sort of primates with ASBO's.

Oooh, they're little monkeys the lot of them.

Nothing ...

... to say.

Busy holiday

Well I'm on holiday. My wife is too, so that's good. We've got plenty of stuff lined up for the next week or so and, as we're not actually going away on holiday, I'm glad we've got things to do.

It starts tonight with some friends coming over. Then we've got a big family do on Sat, my wife goes 'up North' for a Hen night on Sun and next week we've got meals out, friends to go and see, movies to catch, a wedding to attend and some other stuff which I've forgotten because I've got a memory like a ... a ... er ...

Well anyway, I'm sure there will be plenty of stuff to write about over the forthcoming days. Oh yeah, I watched 'Dog Soldiers' today. It's a cracking little British horror film by the same guy who wrote and directed 'The Descent'. Lots of werewolves and British swearing. Always a winning mix I reckon.

Well, have to dash - our chums will be here any minute and I've got to do my hair. Hold on, I don't really have any hair. Never mind, I'll just fluff up what few tufts I have left and see how it looks. You have to make an effort you know.

Now where are my curlers?

Burger update

Thanks to the correspondent who emailed me (bornthendie@mac.com) to tell me of his rather less than enjoyable experience of a Wimpy meal. Now, for fear of legal action, I will not provide details of the 'alleged' gastronomic disaster. Suffice to say, the phrase 'dripping fat' was used along with several heartfelt expletives.

On the bright side, Wimpy apparently do offer a veggie menu, although my correspondent did not partake of the 'healthy' option due to his carniverous commitments. In summing up his experience of the esteemed restaurant he cannot, unfortunately, bring himself to recommend the food, or indeed, the experience as a whole. It appears that 0/10 is the score on that one. Obviously, his comments are purely subjective and in no way represent the opinions of YBATYD.

Mind you, it did sound completely rank.

Well burger me

A converstaion arose at work today which got us all thinking. Now everyone's heard of McDonalds and Burger King. These meaty, global behemoths are known the world over and have all but monopolised the 'beef in a bun market'. Almost.

Step forward Wimpy! We couldn't believe that this company is still going. We remembered Wimpy from our childhoods when it was the quintessentially British version of the Amercian 'diner' experience. It was all table service, napkins and yes, knives and forks. So quaint and so NOT fast food as we know now it.

And yet, Wimpy survives. A look at their website informs you that they currently have over 250 franchised restaurants in the UK. Two hundred and fifty! It's truly amazing, yet still rather quaint and sweet. Now I'd love to try and recreate that 70's experience by sampling a Wimpy again. However, I don't know if they do any veggie stuff (yes, I'm one of those) although deep down, I sort of hope they don't cater for the modern market. It wouldn't be right somehow. So if anyone has had a Wimpy in the last 9 years, please do let me know.

You'll be eating for Britain you know.

My wife is great

I realised yesterday, that my wife is even more fabulous than I originally suspected. This is good news as I already thought she was rather top-notch and a unique and wonderful person. So imagine my joy when I heard her utter the following two statements:

1. "I'm going to buy a portable DVD player".
2. "I really want to see more football this season".

This was not a dream. It really happened. For a lady/woman/female to actually choose to buy a non-essential, electronic gadget is almost unheard of. For the same lady/woman/female to then add that she wants to see more footie is a miracle on a biblical scale.

For these reasons, I now know for certain that my wife is truly great. Obviously, she's great for a myriad of other reasons, but none are quite as impressive as these two. I am indeed a very lucky man.

I hope she thinks she's a lucky woman.

Wahey! 94!

It's the little things in life that make you smile. And so I'm sure you, dear reader, will join in with my excitement. I've just read my blog figures for the week and discovered that the 'You're Born And Then You Die' pages were visited 94 times last week. Admittedly, the BBC website probably receives 94 hits a second, but hey, I'm happy.

Obviously, my aim is now to top a 100. Then 1000 ... 1,000,000 and finally - the world!! Ha ha ha!

Sorry about that. It's my age. Anyway, please do tell your chums, lovers, neighbours, Euro MP's or even your relatives to pop by and have a gander at YBATYD. Honestly, there's one posting I did which was really very funny.

Well I laughed ...

Sssh! Football

As I've said before, I promise not to mention footie too much on this 'ere blog. However, since my team (Birmingham City - 'the Blues') got relegated from the Premier League last season I've said nothing. So here's a tiny update, although I guarantee that no-one, other than me, is interested.

Anyway, last season we were playing teams such as Chelsea, Manchester United, Arsenal and er ... Charlton. This season we get to play teams like Barnsley, Plymouth, Southend and er ... Hull. Despite the slightly less-than glamorous nature of the fixtures in the 'Championship' there is a definite positive. We've won two and drawn one in our first three games. Actually, we should have won today against Stoke City (see photo) but we managed to miss a penalty. We're really quite good at missing penalties. And getting players injured - but I'll tell you all about that another time.

So for now at least the Blues are doing fine and sitting pretty in fourth place. Will we manage to keep up our good start? Will we sign even more players before the transfer window closes? Will we see the mighty Blues returning to the Premiership where they belong? Will the hearts of every Birmingham City fan be bursting with pride as the tears of joy and undying loyalty for their team pour forth in an explosion of pure love ?

No. But we might finish 11th. Or 12th

Last orders

At last the weekend approaches and what better way to enjoy not being at work than partaking in a bit of classy, international cuisine?

Well we're going to see some friends tonight and we're having a Thai takeaway. Now there's actually a rather interesting fact here. The place where we'll be getting the food from is a fully-fledged Thai restaurant that used to be a really old pub. I think it's a bit of a weird transition - from aged spit 'n' sawdust public house to a modern, oriental dining palace.

I wonder if they've managed to retain that quintessentially British, oh so special aroma that's only found in the gents bogs?

That should blend in well with the Thai Green Curry.

Terrorism

"Sigh..."

Pigeonhole

Here's a new meaning for the word 'pigeonhole'. Yesterday, a pigeon smashed into a window where I work. Nothing special about that you may think but wait - the pigeon actually smashed the first pane of double-glazed glass with his head! The second pane managed to stop him dead. However, he pulled his head out through the hole in the first pane and managed to fly away. He must have been well-hard.

Admittedly, he was fantastically concussed but he survived the ordeal. And the best bit? There's now a hole in the glass which is exactly the same size as a pigeon's head! I think that's just brilliant. I'll get an actual photo as soon as I can.

Now that's what I call a pigeon-hole.

Speling And gramer

I have a pet hate that eclipses all of my other pet hates. Spelling and grammar. Now I don't want to sound like a miserable old sod or an extreme pedant, but the way some people write these days is abysmal.

If any of you reading this are offended by what I'm about to say then it probably means that you are guilty of butchering the English language and should be flogged to death. Or maybe just told off a bit.

Here are my top six gripes:

1. Alot / alot. There's no such bloody word! It's 'a lot' - two words.
2. Capital letters in Wrong places for no Reason. Aaaaarrrggghh!
3. Their and there. 'We went over there' / 'It was their idea' Two different meanings!
4. American spellings such as 'humor' and 'color'. We are not a US state. Yet.
5. Punctuation. For God's sake use some punctuation in your sentences especially if it's a really long sentence because if you don't it will make people die due to lack of oxygen in their lungs now that can't be a good thing can it
6. Grammar. It is mostly more essential if you are a writer of accurate sentences than if they are incomprehensible. Grammar are very important.

And remember, using a spell-checker does not mean A) the grammar is correct or B) you've actually used the correct word in the first place. OK? Right, I've got that all off my chest now. I feel alot calmer.

Nooooooooo!

Mama mia, it's murder!

I'd never done a murder mystery until last Friday and thought they always sounded a bit rubbish. Well how wrong I was. Oh yes. The whole idea was that we were in Little Italy, New York in 1995. Pepi Roni (Pepperoni, geddit?) had been killed and we were all gathered at the family restuarant to discover 'whodunnit'.

The thing is, you have to stay in character all the time. As you can see from the photo, I made an extremely convicing Italian gangster (Rocco Scarfazzi) along with my 'fiancee' - Tara Misu (genius, that one). The rest of the 'cast' were Mama Rosa, Angel, Marco Roni (they get worse) and the lone Frenchman - Bo Jolais (dear God).

The evening consisted of listening to a tape (it's a very old murder mystery game), reading your characters' speeches and acting your nuts off whilst attempting a convincing accent. The accents were, mostly, appalling. The most fantastically abysmal of these was delivered by my father-in-law who was playing Marco. His accent lurched from one bizarre vocal extreme to another as he butchered the Italian accent, then the New York accent and finally a mish-mash of Welsh and Pakistani. A triumph of enthusiasm over ability.

As it was an Italian theme, we had lasagne, Italian wine and Tiramisu. As the alcohol flowed, the accents became worse and the whole thing descended into a boozy chaos. Finally we discovered (after all accusing each other with varying levels of aggression) that Bo Jolais was the murderer. None of us actually guessed it was him as we'd been so overwhelmed with information, mis-information, wine, poor acting and gargantuan amounts of lasagne that our feeble brains were on the verge of a meltdown. Brilliant.

So, Bo 'dunnit' and we all had a cracking night. I looked the part with my suit, hat, fake cigar and obligatory violin case and loved every minute. In fact I never realised that cold-blooded murder could be such a laugh.

I guess you really are 'born and then you die'. Capiche?

Proud to be .. er .. British?

If you live in France, you're French. I've you live in Nigeria, you're Nigerian. If you live in Chile, you're Chilean. You get the idea. However, if you live in Britain, you're British but also English or Welsh or Scottish or (Northern) Irish. Hmmmm.

If you ask where I live, I can say England or the United Kingdom or Great Britain. Mind you, although these isles are often referred to as either the United Kingdom (UK) or Great Britain (GB), the official title is 'United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland'. Hope you're still with me. It's a country and a sovereign state . Marvelous.

So the 'UK' is a 'political union' made up of England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland (but not the southern part - Eire). This means that I am both English and British. I think. My passport describes me as British even though my place of birth is listed as England. Wow, I seem to have dual nationality. Er .. possibly?

When I am asked my nationality, I say "British" but if I'm asked where I'm from, I say "England". I don't actually know what the difference is or, indeed, if there is a difference. What I do know is that I wish I could just give a simple bloody answer to a simple question.

Like "Do you like cress?"