I wish to register a complaint

Last night i watched the 100 greatest cartoons on Channel4, because as is traditional for Sunday evenings, there was bugger all else on. In retrospect it was a mistake, because before i watched that, i watched 'The Grudge' (American version, subtitles give me a headache), which is the only horror film ever that I'm refusing to watch again on the basis of it being too scary. Most horror films let anticipation build up between scares, but this one just hammers at you over and over again until you flinch every time someone moves. The combination of that and the cartoons left me dreaming about looking for Ziggy Marley to tell him about the one other cartoon character with a Jamaican accent (which i now can't remember) in a huge HMV type shop full of cartoon characters who kept turning into grey dead Japenese people with soul sucking eyes making a 'rrrrrrrrrt' noise and dislocating thier limbs.
It was also a bad idea because they put in a whole bunch of things that were stop-motion animation rather than cartoons, and left out all the following which are much better than a lot of the ones they put in:

Daria
Stressed Eric
Captain Planet (still our hero, still needed)
Around the World with Willie Fogg (still remember all the words to the theme tune)
Angry Beavers
Count Duckula
Batfink
The Snorks
The Smurfs
Mysterious Cities Of Gold
Jem and the Jet Set
Brace Face (she has cow pyjamas)
Alvin and the Chipmunks

And Barbar gets in? Sinners...

How could you leave me here so long with Uncle Dubya?

It's ok! It's really all going to be ok! After seven years with "more evil in the charts than an Al-Quaeda suggestion box" (ta Mr. Bailey) and bad bad men masquerading as substitutes THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!!
Oh thank god!
Where have you been?
Oh don't worry, I'm too glad to see you safe and well to be cross!
Now that you've come back you're forgiven for going away, now that we can go back to the way we were, now that there's hope and joy and music to make us smile and jump around sing! sing! sing! like lumberjacks... Now everything will be right again. The relief is almost too much, I could cry if I wasn't listening to Candy right now "And you were my only weakness for years and years and years." I love you, I've loved you since the first time I heard the first few bars of Lump, I've never stopped loving you, and I'm not ashamed because something that makes you feel this good can't be wrong. I'm dusting off my carefully put away collection of singles and rarities tonight and playing them all until the neighbors call the police. Then me and the boys in blue will Kick Out The Jams.
And you needn't think I've forgotten Chris is really Kermit the Frog, Dave is Gonzo and Jason is Animal the greatest drummer in the world.
Now from the rest of you I want a promise you wont do anything to make them go away again. You know now what the world is like without songs about sweets and insects and toys, without people who can make all that beauty with five strings between the lot of them, without the happiness that comes from a warm copy of the limited edition 'Supersonics' single, without the best live version of 'Video Killed The Radio Star'. You get Busted and Atomic Kitten and Peter Andre comes back. So you all be sure to be nice to them and make them feel wanted and loved and appreciated. I will go and see them at the Forum in April if I haven't already moved to the country to eat a lot of Peaches.
It's time we took the world back for rock and humour. Get back JoJo!

I'm Changing My Name To Numchuck Vitch

I am increasingly distressed by the epidemic of utterly stupid baby names that seems to have been picking up pace since the 60s. It's taken me long enough to get used to mine, which my parents claim they picked because they were thinking of Claudine but couldn't bear the thought of the way people in our local area at the time would pronounce it, so went for mine instead. I have to say I'd not have been keen on it however it was pronounced, so I'm grateful in a qualified 'no bugger ever spells it right and if I hear the D word one more time someone will lose a limb' kind of way. But they did at least put some thought into it, and took care not to saddle me with anything that would get the crap kicked out of me at school. These days that kind of thing doesn't seem to bother people. They don't seem to realise having children is not about fulfilling their own whims and making themselves feel the way they want to feel. So you can start by not inflicting some totally ridiculous name on them because you think it says something about you. Here are a few of my favourite stupid names and suggestions for similar types of names you may like to never ever consider giving any children you may have.

Paris Hilton - Paris is a boy's name, and who wants to be named after a hotel? Alternative suggestion: Grimsby Ritz

Prince Michael Jackson - They're not royalty, so people will call them Prince. Which is a dog's name. Alternative suggestion: Rover

Cruz Beckham- As Alistair McGowan said as David Beckham "Partly because he was conceived on a cruise around the Mediterranean [oooh-harsh!] and partly because it means cross, which is what he'll be when he finds out what his name is" and it's a girl's name. Alternative suggestion: Piscina

Beyonce Knowles- because it was her mother's maiden name. Not a good trend to start. If my mum had done that I'd be called Parrott.

Apple Martin- given the parents were famous for getting lashed on apple martinis, I can only imagine they named her after what they were drunk on when she was conceived (actually my dad claims I've got my middle name cos that's who's house they were staying at when they got drunk and had "a bit of a cock up on the contraception front". Questions not to ask when you're seven. Or to ask my dad ever. Gee, Officer Krupky...) Alternative suggestion: Scrumpy Jack

Mercedes/Armarni- there's been a lot of this about lately. I wonder if it's on the Brooklyn Beckham principle..... But naming a kids after luxury brand? Why? Because you can't afford an actual whatever it is? Alternative suggestion: Smeg

Frances Bean Cobain- Because she looked like a bean on the ultrasound. The relevance of that nickname has a lifespan of about a week. Alternative suggestion: Wetpatch

Scout Willis- Scout? Alternative suggestion: Brownie Guide

****** Spears-Federline- I am leaving this space blank in anticipation.....

Oh the OTHER Bible! I see!

That Scouse with the megaphone from Oxford St. Was on the TV last night, rattling of his cheesy lines and unashamedly ignoring the idea that anyone else might have a religion or belief system that is worth anything at all. Having to wait for a bus within earshot of him so very very very often, having seen him look directly at Muslims, Sikhs and Orthodox Jews and shout out "Are you going to be a sinner or a winner? If you ignore the boss, it's your loss." without thinking for one minute that they are as committed to serving the benign divine (see, I can rattle off catchy lines too) as he is, and that they have a right to walk down the street without someone effectively telling them they deserve to go hell for following their religion instead of his, I have come to the conclusion that there must be two Bibles. The one I studied in Religious Studies A-Level, and another one missing all the following quotes:

And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not: for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.

Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven

For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.

Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.

Do to others as you would have them do to you.

If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that.

Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye, when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.

No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.

Now, if anyone thinks I'm taking these quotes out of context, I would say to them that I understood Jesus to be speaking to all mankind, with no exceptions, and that that was the point of his point. So when I am offended and hurt by the things this man is saying, that's 'evil' against me in Jesus' name. Call me presumptuous, but I doubt Jesus would have liked that.

But don't worry, you loudmouthed scouse hypocrite. I'm sure Jesus will forgive you. If you understand you need to be forgiven and ask genuinely for that forgiveness. Yes, Jesus loves you, but I don't.

Target Practice

If there are any aspiring terrorists in need of practice runs reading this, the dates and locations of the remaining Big Brother 2005 auditions are as follows. Half an ounce of prevention is worth a solid ton of cure.

Cardiff - Wednesday 23rd February 20059am start - Cardiff City Hall, Cathays Park, CF10.· Birmingham - Saturday 26th February 20059am start - Thinktank at Millennium Point, Curzon Street, B4.·
London - Saturday 5th & Sunday 6th March 20059am start - Excel Exhibition & Conference Centre, 1 Western Gateway, Royal Victoria Dock, E16.

Woh-oh Black Betty Bam-A-Lam

In gratitude to Ms. Jagger and 'Er Maj I declare it to be National Elizabeth Week.
You may wonder why I'm even bothered about Little Miss Juicy Tubes doorway antics. It is a dark and sordid tale indeed, and usually I'd take those 'censored' patches in the News of the World to mean nothing actually happened but we're damned if we'll let on. However my special secret source -who shall be known only as Deep Shine- confirms that the camera they were caught on is tiny and hidden in a huge black glass chandelier, and all that's visible is a little red light (which she would have seen if she'd had her eyes open), so I'm not surprised she didn't notice she was being had hem hem. The management of Kabarets Prophecy, according to Deep Shine, were rather surprised that the tape from the tiny camera made it all the way to the News of the World all on its own, although Deep Shine says he's been in the CCTV room, and apparently the only mystery is why it took so long to get there. And indeed that it took til Monday for the Polis to come and start wondering the same thing. It was as a result of the arrival of the Polis that Deep Shine got a day off, and I got to spend the day playing snooker and being not un-juicy myself. So ta Lizzie. And in future remember, with the lights out, it's less dangerous.
I'm celebrating the other Elizabeth not only for the 'be careful what you pray for' incident, but also for today's masterstroke: I will not be attending the wedding ceremony because then it wouldn't be 'low key'. The woman's an evil genius! That has to be the put down of the century! So the story of this relationship is a decades long tale of scandal, betrayal, interviews with Bashir, trials, tribulations and general endless tabloid fodder, the bride is the only person in the country who gets slagged of for her looks more than Cherie Blair and she'll be in wedding gear, the papers want photos of William to please the little girls, Harry for the fashion page, and Charles to compare his facial expression with the photos from his first wedding, but if the Queen turns up then it wont be 'low key'? I may have to ditch Eastenders in favour of 'Majesty' magazine. And if I was the Duke of Edinburgh, I'd check the basement for plumbing work and remove any dog shaped ornaments from the palace.
This brings me to a possible final Elizabeth. I believe Pauline Fowler's dog is called Betty, surely making that little black dog (ahhhh Den, should have seen that coming! The Black Dog! The Black Dog!) a ceramic Betty. Thus meaning Betty killed Den. This also necessitates a re-reckoning of the scores. As the daffodils failed to kill Den, the previous scores are wiped and now read Plantlife 0 (Phil didn't die) - Pauline Fowler's Kitchen Accoutrements 2 (Den and Trevah).
Love a Liz today!

Mam, I am tonight.

I say this once, and once only: GO THE QUEEN! I have never felt so much like I'm getting value for money on my taxes than today. They may be a bunch of idle scroungers, they may be inbred to the point of actually being a new species, but I spent a good half hour rolling on the floor in hysterics this morning, and if a few pence in the pound on my income tax has gone to make this possible, I have to say it's really worth it.
For anyone who has missed the paper, in her capacity as head of the church of England ( quote little guy at corner shop: "I thought that was Christ's job.") her maj has pointed out that once they're married, Church of England people will have to pray for Camilla as well as Charles. Hey, Liz, I thought we were keeping this 'civil'? Well ain't that just the best lesson in being careful what you wish for? You want them, you've gotta love 'em! You want a country where the government is the government of the head of the Church of England, you want to be a subject rather than a citizen? Well you just get down on your knees and thank the lord for giving you what you want. All those times the Daily Mailites have rung into TV debates saying we should never, ever even consider a monarchy free Britain on pain of being considered unpatriotic (also the penalty for not giving a wet slap about football and being glad when England go out of tournaments early so everyone just SHUTS UP ABOUT IT) must be bursting their cardy buttons wishing they could be outraged!
I have to say, I labour day and night to be as twisted and bitchy as possible, and spend most of my time absolutely rabid with apathy about stories concerning the royals, so I can only be utterly proud of the queen for upsetting the applecart in the most creative way imaginable. Who, indeed, is queen? It also makes me wonder, if she's head of the church and can tell people who to pray for, can't she tell the church to let Charles get married in one?
In the long term, I suggest we kill two birds with one stone. Give Liz a job writing scripts for Eastenders. I may have been a little unfair on Thursday, it's obvious the people working on the Johnny/Andy storyline ate all the Cheesy Poofs that should have gone to the Den team. Well the Queen's loaded, so if she worked there the Cheesy Poofs would never run out again, and we'd all live happily ever after. Except the residents of Walford. And Charles.

London Cheesy Poofs Shortage

I like Cheesy Poofs, you like Cheesy Poofs, the scriptwriters of Eastenders have one hour tonight to extricate themselves from that category of non-Cheesy Poof eating being officially designated under the Cartmann protocol as Lame. Otherwise I am afraid I am going to have to come down there and enforce respect of my authoratah by whatever means I deem necessary. In 'Urband Legend 2' some film geek talks about some director posing the question "Is film more important than life?" Well you've gotta ask yourself, do you feel lucky, punk? Well do ya?

FAQ: Just what exactly is your problem young lady?

Legend has it that when Brian Eno was on Desert Island Discs he chose a giant man eating spider as his luxury, on the basis that it would keep him on his toes and force him to be creative. I think everyone has their own Giant Man Eating Spider, a thing they're constantly trying to outrun, but is nevertheless a gift because it's what keeps them going. Last night in a moment of sparkling shiraz fuelled clarity I worked out what mine was. It was something my charming father said in an email to another member of my family about liking to have that branch of the family "where you can see them" (you can see where I get my effortless charm and compassion from) that reminded me of the Giant Man Eating Spider, and having it and the aforementioned father, as it were, where I could see them both at the same time, I realized it's actually a family spider, and its name is Smithy. Smithy is the principle that if you're not involved in the process, you can't comment on the outcome.
Smithy is the reason my grandad responded to getting blown up twice by working with young people in inner city London for decades. Smithy is the reason my dad perseveres in jobs most sane people would run a mile from as soon as they saw the workload. Smithy is the reason I've seen a number of things through that have had the same general effect on my health and sanity as Cenobites have on the curious. Smithy sits there with a teacher like expression on his face that makes it perfectly clear that having a fair idea how things ought to be absolutely obliges you to do something about it. Smithy is responsible for me putting my hand up in class and answering questions eventually because I couldn't stand sitting there waiting for something to happen. Smithy is responsible for endless pointless extra curricular activities. He is responsible for numerous sporting injuries (not mine, clearly), pneumonia, exhaustion, frustration, and a tendency to need constant data input to the brain. Smithy is also responsible for my rage, as he doesn't stop chasing me just because there's nothing in the wide world I can do about whatever hideousness the world is visiting upon itself today.
I urge all of you to get to know your Giant Man Eating Spider, give him a name and take him out for a drink. You may as well get along, that island's gonna have to be big enough for the both of you.

Sports Report

National Pledge Card Snap Results:
Blair 3 - Howard 3 (O.G. Immigration, first five min)

I would go out tonight.....

On Valentine's day I am troubled by notions of maintaining the personal fabulousness that attracted my gorgeous talented intelligent husband to me in the first place. Not because he could ever less than worship me (suck it up singletons, I'm still a newlywed and all this schmaltz is why you want one too, so no pretending you'd be any better), but because he's lots and lots of fun when he's in that 'new toy' mood that comes with seeing me in gorgeous new outfits. However, barring a few individual pieces I've found in unexpected places, which are mainly 'out' clothes rather than 'day' clothes, my wardrobe's full of black vest tops and jumpers I've washed to death, two pairs of jeans and a very old quilted skirt. I've been trying for about a year and a half to get enough clothes to last the week without freezing my arse off or doing the same laundry half a dozen times, but somehow every season the clothes are either minging or entirely the wrong colours.
This season doesn't look like setting the world on fire, let alone starting a flame in anyone's heart. The main theme seems to be army greens embellished with gold gypsy-like accessories- what I like to call insurgent Chic. Although I like to have a touch of zeitgeist in my wardrobe, neither army green nor gold are 'Winter' colours, so they're no good for me at all (it's a colour analysis thing I had done before picking out my wedding dress). They also seem to lack any kind of body armour or weaponry concealment capability, so no use if you'd been caught in the Great Ikea Massacre. Juicy will no doubt release olive and gold velour tracksuits so the fashionable chav about town doesn't feel left out. The girly/eveningwear version of insurgent chic, Fake Asylum Seeker Chic, sees similar styles in different colours. For example those skirts which appear to be made by cutting a hole in a Camden Market throw and gluing those large sequins from the bottom of your mum's sewing basket that have been there since Christmas 1978 all over it. Not only are these the stupidest single item of clothing since shrugs, but the colour palette for FASChic seems to be based on what cheaply produced clothing looks like when it's been round the circle line seventeen times.
This leaves us with Ironic Tory Chic, based partly on extending the 80s fashion revival past the Thatcher powersuits era and into the early-nineties-but-not-if-we-can-help-it Major phase, with a little extra inspiration from Conde (Rice, not Nast). I'm seeing built in granny blouse ties, nasty cardies and grey, grey, grey. As a colour, grey's fine. As a fashion statement it's a contradiction in terms. We had to wear grey suits in the 6th form at school, and skinny or fat, suitably skintoned for the colour or not, pretty or bearing ugly-stick scars (and sorry about this ladies) nobody looks good all in grey, and if you wear a grey outfit with a coloured shirt you look like a 6th former who has to wear grey to school. You'll know one of those rare people who can get away with grey suits by the way you didn't realize they were there until you noticed a creeping feeling of mistrust building for no apparent reason. The extra sting in Major Chic is Fur, the last hurrah of the rich, cruel and heedless. It has to be real fur too. To go with grey perhaps orange with white tips...
So this season I shall mainly be wearing: white cowboy boots, black and white fake fur cowprint anything at all, small enamel LibDem pin, black poncho (£7.50 in Accessorize sale, great seeing as it's only nearly warm enough to wear it now without a coat underneath), the two year old jeans that are only nearly frayed and beaten enough, and my only new item of clothing for this season: a Camilla P-B "Hello Princess" T-shirt.

Hello Princess

Congratulations to Prince Charles and Camilla on their engagement. According to the palace it will be a civil ceremony, which I take to mean they have found a suitable medication level for the Duke of Edinburgh, no one will mention the Queen Mum turning in her grave, and no one will be summoning the unquiet spirit of Diana. As to calling her Princess of Wales, it's hardly like the last incumbent was of such high caliber that Camilla can't match her, and if the Daily Mail wants to keep the Royal Family, they're going to have to love every gurning inbred freak it marries, churns out, or chooses to believe is its child. So she'll always be the Princess of Wales in my heart....

Public Service Broadcasting

In an effort to save money and revive youth interest in both politics and flagging Top Of The Pops, the BBC has announced than when TOTP makes its move to BBC2 it will become new public vote show Top of the Polls, where the results of various text, red button and internet votes will be announced. Poll topics are slated to include Least Favourite Awards Show, Most Tiresome Pop Star (in order to retain some of the original format), and Least Likely To Get My Vote In May If I Can Be Bothered To Vote At All. The concept of the program is to give voters the opportunity to place politicians in a context that they're familiar with, and to allow politicians to show their more up-to-date 'street' sides to potential voters and engage people in politics at a younger age. The main political parties have welcomed the program, and have begun to hint at the content of their future appearances on the show.
The Prime Minister's office has confirmed he will release 'Golden Brown'- a song about a man's destructive relationship with a class A chancellor. A spokesman for the PM, who will release the tracks under the artist name #10, said "Blessed is just about everyone with a vested interest in the status quo. Except Status Quo." Gordon Brown denies he is planning to release a Frankee style riposte, as he can't get the high notes in that Fine Young Cannibals song. David Blunkett's plans to release a version of 'I will survive' have been shelved, as rehearsals were confusing Sadie. All of them claim to have an album out soon, and all claim they will be headlining in Westminster by Christmas. We can also exclusively reveal the full text of Michael Howard's new single, although the release of the video has been delayed in order to replace the shadow cabinets' cameos in the background with the animated black-and-white photos focus groups found "less nauseating".

Why Not To Vote Tory... By The Tories

Came from the East I had a thirst for power
I'll lead my party through its darkest hour
They say I'm "Of the night".
They told me poll results were dire
I said I'd wade back into the mire
They said "Fine."
I thought now would be my time,
But you said

"We're gonna vote for Common People
We're gonna like whatever Common People say
Gonna trust the Common People
Gonna vote for Common People in May."

Well what else could I say?
I said, "I'll make you rue the day."

I took a stand on immigration,
I don't know why but I had to stir it somehow.
So who's laughing now?
They said "But what about the refugees?"
But I just laughed and said "You're so weedy!"
They said "Yeah. But we don't see anyone else winning this year.
Are you sure
You wanna piss on common people?
You wanna thwart what ever common people try?
Wanna watch the common people
Slave for nothing, fall apart, fail and die?"

But I didn't feel disgraced
I just hid my other face.
Rent a flat above a "caf"
If recession took your "gaf"
If you think it isn't fair
Don't believe we're gonna care.
Private healthcare, private schools,
Private nursing homes or gruel.
And yet I keep it all inside
And when I lay awake at night
I ponder why for hours and hours
When all their ideas are the same as ours

We're never liked like Common People
When we can do whatever Common People do,
Why we fail while Common People
Watch as our chance of power slides out of view
And we bitch and snipe and stew
Because there's nothing else to do.

Sing along with the common people
Nod and smile and you might just make it through.
Knock on doors of the common people,
Laugh along even though they're laughing at you
And the stupid things that we do
Because they think that common's cool.

Watch for dogs and the feral children
They'll bite you and never warn you.
Look out! They'll mention Thatcher now.
Cos everybody hates a Tory
Especially one who thinks its all such a bore
If you think Blair is bad then you don't know you're born.

You will never understand that you're meant to live your life
With no future and no cash
And a jail sentence for hash.
I am amazed that you resist
And you seem surprised that we can only wonder why

You want local food in shops
You want paying for your jobs
Universities and schools
Up to scratch and free for all
You want open government
But if you just knew what it meant
To see behind that pearly smile
You would lose your head and run a mile.

So you elect the Common People
And you must like whatever Common People do
Just cos you're all common people
And want to vote for common people like you.
You wanna vote for common people like you...
You wanna vote for common people like you...

Intermission

Thought for the day: "He rageth, and again he rageth, for he knows his time is short." And quite bloody right too.

Readers, be assured 'Reasons Not To Vote Tory- By the Tories' has not passed me by, it's just (slowly!slowly!) it's too nice a job to rush. Truly this is government by the people, for the people!
Also readers please note no one I know calls during Eastenders tonight, even if it's just because you care, mum.

Johnny Be Good (Imperative)

Having been diverted for such a long while by the trivia of politics and international current affairs, I return to the issue most important to the average British subject in the run up to a general election: will the storylines on Eastenders be good enough to distract us from the general unseemlyness of the workings of democracy? We must remind the BBC that if offending people is not a good use of license money, boring the extremities of them is bad form too.
So imagine my joy when the resurrection men in the script department dug up someone who was last in Walford when Pat could still get paid for sex. Lucky for her she lives in a totally fictional part of London rather than Whitechappel, or she'd clearly have been dodging the Ripper at the time. And he's not just another comedy pensioner to get in to scrapes with Jim Brannin' while Patrick gets over Paul, he a gangster, a real gangster! It has been an omission nigh on as great as the almost total lack of ethnic minorities (no one in Walford ever gets a Chinese takeaway, there's no kebab shop, there's no constantly shutting down varying ethnic food restaurant, what part of London is this meant to be?) that Walford has failed to attract a genuine bad boy since the Mitchell boys left, and even in the heyday of Tweedlebald and Tweedlebalder the gangstahs only popped in to knock heads together.
But Johnny Allen is so bad even rubber faced sulk merchant Andy Crapgangsta wont mess. Having drafted in hench in the form of the Itinerant Bad Cousins found in The Borrowers storeroom, who helpfully have provided Alfie with a big boy contact and partner in despair of them and dropped them Nanna and all into an obligation to him, lets hope the scriptwriters follow through and give us something really juicy. After all, we know Den's for the chop one way or another, so why stint us? Here's my most hoped for storyline.
Chrissie and her lawyer pal Amanda sign the Vic over to Chrissie and Den in joint names. The Moonhench, obviously more working for Johnny than Andy out of affection for their testicles, help Johnny help Patrick and Alfie (who by this time probably manages the club for him and agonizes about developing a blindspot for drugs) stitch Andy up with the people who killed Paul and gets him 'disappeared'. Chrissie exposes Den and Zoe's little secret at the Vow renewal, Amanda having written the vows to be retaken so they constitute automatic loss of half of everything if he's Den at all, and sells her half of the Vic to Johnny, who puts Alfie back in as manager and refuses to buy out Den's half or sell his to Den. Chrissie then shacks up with Johnny, as she likes a bad boy and doesn't seem to mind a few wrinkles, until he dumps her for Pauline Fowler, Pat being otherwise engaged copping off with Charlie and preparing to help him raise Zoe's baby when she inevitably takes to the hills when Sharon returns married to Miniden. Chrissie then leaves the square more humiliated than Den could ever have managed. As soon as the ink is dry on the paperwork is dry, Peggy and a Phil return, glad to see Johnny, the only one bad enough to keep Phil safe, livid with Sam, and positively hiving to see Den behind the bar of 'Miah Pub'. However when they find out old friend Johnny owns half and has Den in a metaphorical headlock, they rejoice, and Phil sets about trying to make it look to Johnny like Den is fiddling him out of money. Johnny has Den taken apart for spare parts onscreen just to make sure he can't come back. Den has left his half of the Vic to Sharon, who returns married to Miniden but unaware old uncle Johnny was the one who had him killed or that ex Phil was the one who made it so. Phil spends weeks hinting and baiting Miniden that he is responsible, but Sharon won't believe Miniden, so Phil and Miniden have a fight into which Sharon intercedes on behalf of Phil, so she and Miniden split up. Just after they've formally adopted Babyden from a "after the way I hurt you I owe you a baby" Zoe (by post), further complicating their family tree. Sharon goes for custody, fails, and leaves the square in a taxi. Again.
And so the cycle continues. Like sand in the trainers go the days of their lives.....

Errata

I would like to apologize for an error in yesterday's blog in light of BPs £8.7 billion. The text should have of course read "a very very good year for oil".

Arnie Etiquette

Congratulations to Shell on their £9.3 Billion profits. A good year for oil was it? Isn't it convenient clever Tony managed to get the Libyans to roll over on weapons just a bare few months before Shell announced in March that they were going back into Libyan oil. I wonder what Libya will spend the money on. And I wonder what Tony will spend the tax revenue on this close to the election. Not that I'm suggesting he'd divert tax revenue into campaigning. Not when there are so many government policy issues to inform us about. And if one or two or the chief executives choose to use some of their bonuses to make legitimate political donations, I'm sure that would be an utterly unforeseen consequence.
Still, the example the Libyans are setting should be payed careful attention to by other outposts of oil. Play nice and we wont bomb you to freedom and back. Money or immolation? Cake or death? And lets hope the example that Tony has set is at least one he can follow. But in matters of what constitutes on our side, and what does not constitute an interest on our part in a country's oil resources, and what constitutes "the last we'll see of President Bush then lads...", it's worth keeping in mind an old song inspired by the Republican Governor Mr. Arnie 'The Gripper' Schwarzenegger.
"Here's a lesson from the future
It's Arnie etiquette,
Ps and Qs just make you lose
The things that you should get.
With an Uzi in my pocket
I've got one thing to say
I always get my refunds and I always get my way
I never have a problem
In getting what I lack
You don't need please or thankyou
You just need
I'll Be Back"

We worship you, Oh Brian.

A little mythology, as it were, for you to mull over during the weekend. The astrological age that started roughly two thousand years ago and ends some time roughly nowish is the age of Pisces, the ethos of which is that people have to be told what to do and how to live a good life. The age that starts when Pisces finishes is the age of Aquarius, the ethos of which is that people must discover for themselves what the right path is. The end of the age of Pisces is referred to as the End of Days. You may have heard of it, but don't worry, it's not the end of the world. There wouldn't be an age afterward when mankind did anything if it was.
In the prophetic code that mathematician Eli Rips claims (and has as far as is ever possible statistically proven at least exists, if not foretells the future, using very stringent tests, all of which has passes three levels of peer review etc) is hidden in the Hebrew of the Torah, the End of Days is encoded with "All his people to war", "Delay", "Will you change it?", along with startlingly accurate predications thousands of years old of the actions of specifically named individuals. Many of these have come true, or foretell things happening in the middle east, America and other nations which certainly show all the signs of happening soon. Drosin, the author of the book 'The Bible Code' based on Rips' work believes the code indicates the 'End' being delayed by the actions of mankind. He's going on the Arnie reading of 'End of Days', and a bit worried about the world ending.
But here we are, knocking about the End of Days, and all over the world wars and conflicts and acts of terrorism abound, there is a resurgence of conservatism, fundamentalism, evangelism of various ideas, and a climate of fear of events and each other. And there is a definite theme of wanting to not only keep things the way we've had them for so long, but to get other people to have them that way too. A delay of the time when everyone gets to decide for themselves and amongst themselves how they're going to do things. "Done by mankind, done by a man." "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." "Give me a place to stand and I will move the world."
Surely, though, there is more value in someone who has to decide for themselves deciding to believe something than in someone who is told to believe obeying? All these things we think we can improve people's lives with are just things we think are right. Given that it is virtually impossible to get 100% turnout in an election, and very rare for there to be only two options to vote for that everyone supports one of, democracy could be called the system by which the candidates that most people don't want end up in charge. Is there a system I personally prefer? No. But someone else might come up with something that is better for their country if not all of them if they're given the chance.
Religion's role in society and in the world is changing dramatically, and the world needs to redefine the status and importance of personal beliefs and allow coalitions of like minded people to co-operate with each other to address the local and international needs of People. Yes, we are all different. There's a lot of talk about Rights. I have a right to this and a right to that... Newsflash: rights are a set of rules agreed between people. Nothing else. You think you have a right to life? So tell the grim reaper "I don't have to die, it's a violation of my rights." and see if he cares. You have to take part in the process of formulating and protecting these rights, these rules we agree to live by, and try to make a system where people generally get a fair return on the effort they put in.
Notnowmeg asked for a blog on paganism. For the basic detail have a look at http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/paganism/intro.shtml For what it means to me, as this one pagan speaking only for myself, I have to define a couple of terms. Gods and Goddesses to me are the forces at work in the universe, and Nature is the reality of all the things in the universe and the way they interact. Gravity, evolution, astronomy, astrology, sod's law, seasons, weather, geology, biology, the way plants to cure illnesses grow right out of the ground, the symbiotic relationship between plants and creatures, chaos theory, philosophy, psychology, the movement of information, the dynamic between men and women. I feel like I'm watching facts about the world stream past in front of me like the screens of code in the Matrix. I listen to Radio 4 programs about politics and bee keeping, I read books about forensics and prophecies, I buy the National Enquirer religiously.
There was a three dimensional model of the chaos theory fractal made recently, and it's a beautiful thing that looks like a spinning top shaped unicorn's horn. Imagine yourself as one atom of that model. Imagine it is rotating clockwise. Imagine that a person or a thing you interact with is another atom as far away from you on that model as possible. Your interaction is a line connecting your dots. Now imagine that you and that other dot start to rotate the other way. That to me is paganism. Trying to know as much as possible about the system of everything and how it works, so I can move in it for the most benefit with the least possible ill effect.
Statisticians tell us there's a bell curve for everything, height, intelligence, flexibility, psychoticness, so logically each of us is the place where a million bellcurves cross. You are unique. You are the only person who can do what you can do. So when you think something shouldn't be the way it is, be a part of it not being. Far be it from me to agree with Kilroy, but when he says he wants to get just enough Veritas MPs to hold the rest of parliament to account, he makes a good point. You don't need to be in charge to change things, you just need to be a part of the process. So know who and what you are, and MANIFEST. I want to know what everyone thinks, not just what the papers say everyone thinks. I want some real debate in the house of commons. I want Nelson Mandela to be right when he says we have an opportunity to be a great generation, and can be. My new mission statement is: "I may not agree with what you're saying, but I'll die for my right to hear it."

The Patter of Tiny Fate

Congratulations to the Mighty Quinn on the birth of someone's baby. I'm sure gifts and good wishes are pouring through her letterbox.

The Early Morning Yell of Horror

In the dark metaphorical waters of peace of mind dark, triangular shapes are breaking the surface and seeming to circle, circle endlessly..... Or is it that they are spiraling imperceptibly closer every time? The faint smell of blood is in the water, and the shapes seem to just be waiting for someone to move too quickly and make their day. LOOK OUT IRELAND!
Ireland?
Yes, folks, this is the War on Terror, and everyone harboring terrorists is a fair target under the rules of the game. So Ireland's got to be next, surely. It's got to be a bit of an embarrassment to have a country that's been a hotbed or terrorism for so long just on our doorstep. So the IRA are for it, one way or another. George Bush is a hundred percent behind him, and says he thinks he's spotted them hiding in Iran, although they may be hiding in disguise in Syria. They're also next in his Baby's Big Axis of Evil Alphabet Book, that his daddy still reads to him every night before bedtime. [Formal apologies, Mr. Bailey] He's given a copy to Tony to read to Leo, and they like it so much they're sending a copy to the Mighty Quinn.
The other day my husband and I were discussing whether the perfect pentacle Venus apparently makes in the sky every eight years (or whatever it says in The Da Vinci Code) works even though the earth, as I put it "wobbles about like a fucker on its axis". My husband charmingly asked me what a fucker's axis was. I can now tell him. A Fucker's Axis the shortest distance between the evil bastard stirring it, and the brainless gonk giving him exactly the response he wants. Have fun today spotting Fuckers Axis all around you! And sing along with Tony and David "A was for Afghanistan, but isn't any more, B is for Brown til i settle the score..."

Foxes With Guns

Another beautiful day for world insanity! This time our dear friend and moving target Mr. Blair has given us a beach full of dead whales and dolphins sized gift. You CAN kill a burglar! I checked immediately to see if I truly did now have a blackbelt in a particularly nasty martial art to compensate for my shortness, girlyness and complete lack of balance, but found that I had misunderstood. Of course, if the government did give out free superpowers, the waiting list would be horrendous.
the nice dancing lady on the news explained that this is Tony "clarifying" the law on self defense on your property. So, given that you CAN kill a burglar (!), and you can't hunt foxes with dogs, what do you do in the following situation? Being utterly wet and a weed, you have bought a large dog to guard your home and deal with intruders. In your area there have been a spate of breakins through garage doors, and in the night you hear a noise outside your house, in your garden. It could be a burglar, or it could be a fox going for the dustbins. Can you let your dog out?
apparently it is legal to hunt foxes with guns. But how sure do you have to be that it's armed before you hunt it? Is mere intelligence enough? If the badgers give its set a wide berth, is that enough evidence? If the fox is terrorizing other foxes? Is fox on fox violence becoming an epidemic in the innercities?
It seems to be that you can kill a burglar, but you can't shoot him while he's running away, but you can shoot a fox if it's running away, but you cant make it run away by setting a dog on it, but you can make a burglar run away by setting a dog on it.
In order to help me decide whether to buy a dog or a shotgun, would the prime minister care to "clarify" his position on the following pests and threats:

Taxi drivers
Members of the Royal family and their dogs
Paparazzi
Bill Posters
People in neon vests who want to talk to you about giving them your bank account details
People who want to offer you £200 of beauty treatments for £40 in return for your card details
Kamikaze bus drivers
Feral Children
Gordon Brown
Max Clifford
Jordan (possible exception under dog on dog violence legislation?)
Madonna
Asylum seekers/immigrants (for the benefit of Tory landowners who employ illegal gangmasters)
People who walk very very very slowly on Oxford St.
Human Rights Lawyers
Judges
Paris Hilton

And a CDO to the right honorable gentleman. You're fooling no one.

We have noramilty. Anything you still cannot cope with is therefore your own problem.

There will be ashort intermission while I check some information and wrangle with Unified Field Theory.
It has been bought to my attention that the world may end next year. No change there then.