Despite the best efforts of a infection in the arachnoid membrane I'm up and moving and curently spending the last few minutes of 2006 not, as you might of guessed cavorting in a wild party but instead being the officer on watch over my otherwise sleeping family. K's brother and his tribe bailed early when their 10 year old boy, after unwisely gorging on a heroic dose of sweets and crank was violently sick so they decided to go back to their hotel. K wisely took this as a sign that her gifts to the gods of sleep had been accepted and went straight to bed. I will see out the last few minutes of this year and then retire myself. Couple of thoughts before I do so. Life in Sweden goes in, and in Feb it will be my three year anniversery of moving here. I miss my friends terribly, and if I can make any sort of new year resolution it will be to be better at being in contact. I suspect that I make this resolution every year but it least its a sign of something, I guess. I could also make a new year resolution to stop repeating myself, which would be more efficient, however.

Waiting: For the apocalpytic detonation of fireworks which will occur in a few minutes.
Lying About: 10 year old boys taking crank in my house.

So long 2006.

Scientology and the Clearwater Police - Google Video...have not watched this yet, but sounds interesring...

merrty xmas

Suppression of Non Stationary Cadavers:Zombie Squad I remember that fantastic line in Dawn of the Dead (remake)...."Is everyone dead? "yeah, in the sense that they, fell down... got up... and started eating each other."

Just a few seconds here, as I'm off to collect the boy from daycare. But quick update, changed to the day shift at work, got a new job interview, bike is trashed (bent front forks, fucked big chain ring, pedal smashed, cranks probably loose) but still ridable (christmas presents to self will fix this damage), signed off from the job centre.

Reading: Hellblazer.
Playing: Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, Black.
Listening: Aphex Twin, Soilwork, Sacre.

I got this from Randi's newsletter, its hilarious. Patron Saints Index Topic List Its basically a list of all the saints and the various subjects they give their patronage to. Thus, in short order and brimming with school boy humour and irrelevancy:

Saint Bonaventure of Bagnoregio: Patron saint of Bowel Disorders.
Saint Barbara: Patron Saint against death by artillery.
Saint Drausinus: Patron Saint of invincible people (presumably the Patron saint of Superheroes).
Saint Gertrude of Nivelles: Patron Saint of the fear of mice.

Really this is just tipping a toe in the water, theres something for everything and everyone here (except monkeys and teeth I notice). However, throats are okay with no less than 7 saints looking out for them. I notice that the author of the website says 'that most people were given a personal patron at Baptism, or chose one at Confirmation. In addition, everyone has a guardian angel. These holy folks stand in God's presence, and will add their prayers to your on this or any other matter.' The bureaucracy must be horrendous.

Feeling 1: Very tired, worked a 2200 til 0530 shift, slept for two hours and then did a Swedish exam from 9 until 1400. I think my answers made sense but I'm pretty sure that in the oral part I said 'when camping in the woods you have to watch out for urine'. Which is of course true, but I meant to say animals.
Feeling 2:Sad for the bloke who started work with me and got the chop. He was a nice lad, but seemed incapable of taking on board any kind of suggestion or instruction. Kind of awkward when he was asking me if my contract was being extended, which it is, when his wasn't.
Feeling 3: relief that I will be moving to the day shift next year. Hoorah. The recruitment agency asked me if I wanted to work between xmas and new year, yeah, right.

Random laugh: woman on the bus carrying an ironing board. Why is it funny? Dunno, just is.

Check it out: 12.12.06: The death of General Augusto Pinochet Cartoons Guardian Unlimited, very appro. steve bell cartoon.

And more bollocks...Reiki therapy,Reiki Master/Teacher, Certified Hypnotherapist Sound Essences-About Us..she sings to water, which is then bottled and sent out to customers to help them with their spiritual problems. Which is nice.

Sore, and tired - in the last week I think I personally moved tons of glass. Which is a lot. Thus, I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

Watched: Casshern, was it good, was it bad? - I'm not sure, though I did find the ending strangely emotional. As someone in the imdb forum pointed out, a bit like watching 'Nightwatch' - you think you're watching something good, you're just not quite sure.

* 7.5 hour shift, of which about 6.5 hours is actual work. Every 25 minutes I pick up approx 50 pieces of glass each weighing about 2.5kg. Thus in one shift I move approx. 650 kg of glass, in a week I move - therefore, a shit load.

It's hot - but climate research is being cut UK News The Observer: "News of the Met Office cuts come on the eve of a pre-budget report in which Gordon Brown will hike the price of a plane ticket by raising taxes on flying, portraying the move as environmentally friendly. However, a report published today by the think-tank Green Alliance argues that the average traveller is now paying less in air passenger duty, a tax built into the price of all tickets, than in 2001 and that it should double at least. Gas-guzzling cars are also likely to escape another car tax rise this week, although Brown is likely to reconsider this next year. There will be no above-inflation increases in petrol prices either."

....and the Stern report has been forgotten, how quickly?

If this was sunday, I'd have been at work for 36 minutes, and be going home in about 7 hours. In the words of Alec G in 'Bridge over the River Kwai'..."my god, what have I done?". Shift work started last night, I finished this morning at 5, came home slept, woke up, went for a few beers with mate, came home, realised my brain had been replaced with fluff. I don't go back to work until sunday night, but I'm staying up later tonight (and sleeping in tomorrow) to try and train myself to get used to this. Just to recap, heres my working times:

Sunday, start 2000, finish at 0500. Monday - Thursday, start 2200 - finish 0530.

Stay tuned for my slow, and almost certainly amusing, regression into some form of slug like creature.

Well, well, well. After the last 9 months of being a fat parasite sucking on the soft underbelly of the well trimmed doggy which is Sweden I've finally got the opportunity to work my way back into society. I've got work at a car windscreen factory which requires the key qualities of strength and shit loads of patience......the job description was something like 'they are planning to put robots on the production line but, until then, you're the robot'. What's even sweeter is that there's 3 shifts, one of which is the graveyard shift which I'll start in about two hours time, finishing at 0530 in the morning. But hey, they pay me, which is nice and hopefully they'll speak Swedish. Exactly what I wanted. What is it they say, 'careful of what you wish for...'.

Guardian Unlimited Comment is free The online ego monster: "There is something about the web that brings out the ego monster in everybody. When you write for the web, you open yourself up to breathtakingly vicious vitriol. People wish things on your mother, simply for bearing you, that you wouldn't wish on Hitler."...Interesting, short, article on self publishing and what not. I occasionally think about my blog and what it represents.....as I said when I started out it simply is a means for me to let my friends, if they are interested, know what I'm up to - it's also is a useful way for me to remind myself, and perhaps give its readers, some interesting links. But there's no major message, what I say here is pretty much what I'd say over a pint and the rare occasions that I descend into more 'vanity' writing are few and far between, thankfully. What is cool is that it does remind me of stuff which happened to me, which I'd otherwise have forgotten. I've thought about putting a visitor counter on it but why bother? I'm not a professional writer and what happens in to me in Sweden is hardly exciting enough to be of interest to people who do not know me. I can hardly be bothered to give the blog address to people I know, never mind make a conscious effort to work on it. So, erm. yeah. and my point was what, exactly? fuck, forgotten.

Oh yeah . . .first job interview conducted almost entirely in Swedish today (the only english expressions were 'shit', 'pain in the ass' and 'honest' which, out of context, make it sound a little disturbing). Don't be too impressed however, the nature of the job was such that there were not the kind of questions I've dealt with in other interviews such as 'what do you see are the main opportunities in the global market for our organisation' but rather were of the level 'how strong are you?' and 'can you do shift work?'. So lets see what happens - regardless of the result it was fantastic for my self confidence. It must be noted, however, that the interviewer spoke very clear Swedish and not the mad skånska dialect we have in these parts - a mixture of Danish and Swedish (Danish, to me, sounds like Swedish spoken by deaf people). Pays not mad either.

Purchase: 2-5 of Hellblazer 'Hard Time', mint condition. excellent.
Annoying: Library still thinks I have books out which I gave back (now theres an example of trivial bollocks your life is no better with!).
Watching: HBO miniseries 'Earth to the Moon', marvellous.

Revealed: rise of creationism in UK schools News crumb EducationGuardian.co.uk: "'Just because it takes a negative look at Darwinism doesn't mean it is not science. I think to critique Darwinism is quite appropriate.'"........arrggh. arrggghhhhh! And this quote is from a fucking science teacher....what kind of a moron gets to teach science and yet cannot understand how science works i.e peer reviewed evidence and why creationism doesn't work. Critique - fine, absolutely fine but based on an arguement of 'heres some real testable evidence' rather than things are really complicated, yeah? And we don't understand everything, so, erm, there must be a god, okay? (and if you don't like it we'll fatwah your ass). Imagine leaving your kids in the company of these kind of imaginatively challenged gullible wankers. Whats next? "okay kids, its field trip time, lets go and look for the ark". Bill, come back, the world needs you.

On a lighter note, you can no longer buy 'Horny Goat Weed Capsules': the recently maligned MHRA gets something right. See The Awful Poo Lady.

So today is mostly working, applications and proofreading as K has bailed me out for the day and left town with the infants (E has recently developed a new, exciting, habit of getting up at 0400 in the morning (the time when people are traditionally asleep, close to death or, in fact, dead) which makes even the most liberal tolerant parent think of tranquillisers (for him, not me)) which means I can really get my head down. Hopefully the weather will clear up so I can spend my 'lunch' hurting myself on my bicycle.

Reading: Hellblazer, Ex Machina (fucking brilliant) and Fables - all comic books for the uninitiated.
Listening: Ramstein, which is unfortunate as it makes me a little too excited.
Watching: Spirited Away (finally) and 'From the Earth to the Moon', 12 hours of drama documentary of the apollo missions, bliss.

Revealed: rise of creationism in UK schools News crumb EducationGuardian.co.uk: "'Just because it takes a negative look at Darwinism doesn't mean it is not science. I think to critique Darwinism is quite appropriate.'"........arrggh. arrggghhhhh! And this quote is from a fucking science teacher....what kind of a moron gets to teach science and yet cannot understand how science works i.e peer reviewed evidence and why creationism doesn't work. Critique - fine, absolutely fine but based on an arguement of 'heres some real testable evidence' rather than things are really complicated, yeah? And we don't understand everything, so, erm, there must be a god, okay? (and if you don't like it we'll fatwah your ass). Imagine leaving your kids in the company of these kind of imaginatively challenged gullible wankers. Whats next? "okay kids, its field trip time, lets go and look for the ark". Bill, come back, the world needs you.

On a lighter note, you can no longer buy 'Horny Goat Weed Capsules': the recently maligned MHRA gets something right. See The Awful Poo Lady.

So today is mostly working, applications and proofreading as K has bailed me out for the day and left town with the infants (E has recently developed a new, exciting, habit of getting up at 0400 in the morning (the time when people are traditionally asleep, close to death or, in fact, dead) which makes even the most liberal tolerant parent think of tranquillisers (for him, not me)) which means I can really get my head down. Hopefully the weather will clear up so I can spend my 'lunch' hurting myself on my bicycle.

Reading: Hellblazer, Ex Machina (fucking brilliant) and Fables - all comic books for the uninitiated.
Listening: Ramstein, which is unfortunate as it makes me a little too excited.
Watching: Spirited Away (finally) and 'From the Earth to the Moon', 12 hours of drama documentary of the apollo missions, bliss.

Currently battling with a bastard of an application form so thought I'd take two minutes out to list whats going on in my life Swedish wise, as I noticed that theres been very little reporting of that in the last few entries (this is also inspired by looking back at the last few years (holy shit! how did that happen, where the fuck did they go!) and it being kind of cool to be reminded about stuff I'd otherwise forgotten).

Thus (and no particular order):

New swedish class (lots of polish people (complaining about Swedish racism), the girl who came back from the summer with new teeth and better skin and suddenly looks beautiful (and acts much happier and more confident too, very cool), Liberian chap whose hero is Sidney Poiter and my teacher suggesting swedish horror novels to me (which is actually rather good, though i have to read it about 1 page every 5 minutes (this is not because its scary, but rather that its in my second language)).

Becoming more confident with talking Swedish to people - though sick of people telling me I speak good Swedish when it takes me about five minutes to ask directions to the local bordello.

Being able, almost, to front and back wheel pivot up a set of stairs on my bike. All those hours in the wood at Båstad, and the times spent lying on my back seeing stars, seem to be paying off.

Changing the cars tyres to the metal studded winter ones (most amusing, wasted my shoulders as I only had the tiny little tyre iron which comes with the car).

Got past the tough stage with the three headed dogs in 'God of War'.

Finally watched Star Wars III, the revenge of the shit.

Cooked a tasteless curry, some utterly meaningless pumpkin pies and then redeemed myself with a kick ass curry.

More will return I'm sure but now I feel the sudden urge to return to my application. Bon voyage!

Whilst thinking about stuff it suddenly occured to me to look at what I was blogging about in previous novembers in Sweden.

Thus: November 20ish in 2004, I was awaiting the arrival of E - no surprise there, given that its his birthday this week. Looking at that month, which was unsusprisingly sparse, I see I was beginning to rant about 'intelligent design' (or 'fucking dangerous bullshit pseudoscience' as I like to call it in polite company these days), talking about building my own PC (still talk, no trousers) and had just discovered Jons Jail Journal. One of the flash sites I thought was cool then, is even cooler now: Alexis Trépanier

and t'was ever thus: November 20th in 2005. No actual entry for the 20th as it seems I was shitting through the eye of a needle, as they say. Lovely. And in november last year I started worrying about the coming oil crisis, gosh, I do worry a lot. I also see that in 8 days time, last year, I will fuck up the second interview for a job with a 5 year contract, rats cocks. Golly, it seems like yesterday that I read the books I rabbited on about, 'Bone' still being the best. Still insane: Survival Research Laboratories. I must do the statistics thing again....but now I am tired and you, I expect, are bored.

Pan's Labyrinth News Guardian Unlimited Film....nice.

'An oasis of clear thinking', hmm, I think I'll take two thanks - RichardDawkins.net - The Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science. So, whats up? Me, I've been doing some proofreading (paid work, now theres a fucking noveltly)...oh, hold on, the Simpsons are on - its about the only TV programme I trust these days. Must dash.

Guardian Unlimited Video Sean Smith in Iraq

Gosh. Intervention in Iraq 'pretty much of a disaster' admits Blair, as minister calls it his 'big mistake' Special Reports Guardian Unlimited Politics: "Tony Blair conceded last night that western intervention in Iraq had been a disaster."

James Randi's Swift - November 17, 2006: Comedian Paula Poundstone reports that the state of Kansas has a new approach to their science curriculum. Says Paula:
"They're not going to teach science at all. What they do is take the science students down to the lake, tie them in burlap sacks, and throw them in. If God thinks they're good science students, they float."

Got pointed in the direction of this blog entry where the blogger has scanned in pages from womens magazines from days gone by - - A Hole in the Head, one of the articles mentions 'he lost his leg in a boiler accident', presumably something which could happen on any given saturday night in the Bigg Market in Newcastle. As the blogger says, they are kind of tragic. Seeing the photograph of the lady with the collection of ceramic toothpick holders reminds me of the '70s where no home was complete without a thimble collection.

Life goes on. Weirdly, so does autumn as the temperature leaps back from hovering around zero to 10-15 degrees, a record for this part of Sweden. One of the many local free rags (other than metro, we have City and .SE) was extolling us to throw away our gloves and get out sunbathing. Yeah, right.

Reading: Eats shoots and leaves (grammar rant), Hellblazer, Transmetropolitan, Fables and other assorted comic book goodies from the local library.

and continuing my theme of educational documents and revealing disclosures here the news about eh WMD dossier, it was written by a spin doctor - no surprise there thenComment is free: The freedom of the press officer.

Going off to blighty to visit the ancestral pile before its sold - time to reminisce and
wander the corridors of my youth before someone tears them down and covers them with floc wallpaper.

Three documents to ponder:

WWF Ecological Footprint - basically, we're fucked by 2050.
Stern Review on the Economics of climate change - if we don't spend the cash, we're even more fucked
50 years left for wild fish - if you're a fish, you're fucked

and then ask, why isn't your elected government doing a little bit more about this?

and something which personally annoys me: James Randi's Swift - November 3, 2006: "In September, the MHRA introduced rules to allow homeopaths to specify the ailments for which their “remedies” can be used, without the need of any supporting evidence. The Royal College of Pathologists, the Medical Research Council, the BioSciences Federation, the Physiological Society, the British Pharmacological Society, the Society for Applied Microbiology, the Royal Society the Academy of Medical Sciences, along with four other national societies are alarmed that claims can now be made about efficacy of these products without rigorous and objective evidence. It appears that this MHRA decision is in surrender to powerful pressures brought about by the quackery industry."

Given that in a previous job I had to jump through various hoops for the MHRA this is particularly galling.

Strange Sweden Fact: stop me if I've mentioned this before but why, on the weather forecast, do they only ever say what the weather will be like after 1300 hours. If I have mentioned this before, why have I not found out?
Trivia: It snowed the other day, the temperatures hanging around zero. brrr.

Peurile and poor toilet humour.

There's many dangers associated with living in the urban environment, stray bullets, sexually charged cats and uneven paving stones to name but a few but one of the worst, or at least most faux pauey, in my mind, is the sometimes horrifying glimpses into other peoples lives. I don't mean tawdry viewing of domestic quarrels but rather the phenomena known as the 'Unplanned Toilet Peep...and stare' (this is quite different from the 'Planned Toilet Peep', which involves planning (clearly), dark clothes, a moonless night and some top end infrared goggles). I was reintroduced to the unplanned toilet peep and stare a few weeks ago, when leaving the house early in the wee hours. It was in my student years that I first discovered this facet of urban living. I stood outside my kitchen window, breathing in the fresh summer air when my gaze dropped down and right, into next doors yard, through their bathroom window and saw our neighbour, crouching the mahogony - as it were. So far so good, but what made this a proper UTP&S was that, at the exact same second I looked, and even as I was beginning to look away my neighbour lifted her gaze from her knees and our eyes met. Contact. And thus, whenever I saw her again - on the university campus, in the pub or in the shops (buying toilet paper) our eyes would meet and we would both be transported back to that unbroken gaze between toilet toiler and window peeper. Awkward, to say the least.
Fast forward back to the present and theres me leaving my flat early in the morning, glancing over at the neighbours flat (across our hall, through the window, across the street - its not like my face was pressed up against their window) and I happen to gaze into their well lit and uncurtained bathroom. And yes, theres the Danish husband straining away on the mug (as they say in Sweden), his ruddy face glowing, eyes bulging and, matinee performance, theres his wife - entering from the left - stark bloody naked, still steaming and pink from the shower - and yes, as I think about looking away, they both look up and our eyes meet. And now I see one, or both of them, in the street, car park or shop, all the bloody time. Thankfully, when they see me they tend to hurry away. Now, wheres my nightvision goggles?

In view of the recently released, and apparently, shite Nic Cage remake I actually got around to watching The Wicker Man (1973) (it took two evenings, and one of these involved watching it with the sound off and subtitles on (not because of the children incidently, K had her book circle chums around and I was not keen for them to overhear me listening to a very cheesy folk rock soundtrack)...anways, it was splendid, in the words of Ewar Woowar "oh God! oh Jesus Christ!". I note in the forum on this in the IMDB that a few folks were discussing the fact that Sgt. Howie goes without a fight - to me the point was that the paganism had won, and he was resigned to his fate as martyr. I really have to sort myself out and try and catch up on the new style of brutalist horror (i.e. Hostel, Hills have Eyes remake, severence etc) but I'm a bit of a wimp when it comes to the nasty stuff - the beginning of the Dawn of the Dead remake still haunts me now, Descent scared the shit out of me and when me and my mate M watched 28 days later we had to stop halfway through and have a nice cup of tea to cope with the shock.

You know you've been in Sweden for a while when #34: The use of 'oy' or 'oy oy oy'. For example, should you drop a pen, observe someone stumble (but not fall) or note an otherwise near nasty accident you say 'oy'. However, if its more serious (say, fumbling then dropping someones child, or being told that the petri dish you just licked did in fact contain a culture of very virulent botulism) then the use of 'oy oy oy' is considered more appropriate. Note that, should you use this in the presence of any greek orthodox jews they may think you are taking the piss and beat you with their payoths.

ScienceDirect - Search Results: TITLE-ABSTR-KEY(rectal AND massage):
"Termination of intractable hiccups with digital rectal massage
Annals of Emergency Medicine, Volume 17, Issue 8, August 1988, Page 872
Francis M Fesmire".......excellent, and using the same search terms I also got the following line from Anim. Reprod. Sci. 'High quality ejaculates (n=4) were collected from two Asian elephant bulls by rectal massage.'. Which lucky research student got volunteered for that task I wonder, and who held the bucket? Anyway, I got the cure of choice for hicups from New Scientist which also reminded me of something which, while a little bit less school boy humour, is still excellent nonetheless. Take a dictionary, in this case an English-Swedish-English one, and then look at the top of the pages where, hopefully, the first and last entry on the page are separated with a '-'......you then get such associations as:

wholefood-Wiener schnitzel
pullback-pungent
iguana-imbecility
dog biscuit - doomwatcher

Quite why this makes me laugh is anyones guess, but this is a game which could me occupied for minutes.

Pissed off with: The American show 'prison break'. 22 episodes I sat through of watching the tattooed Jason Schofield work on his tortourous, illogical and quite frankly unbelievable plan to get him and his brother out of prison. 22 fucking episodes, which is just short of a whole day of my life. Episode 22, we're escaping - check, massive plot holes (nothing new there)-check, starting to wind up loose strings - check....hold on a minute, cutting it a bit fine here, only 5 minutes left and theres still loads of stuff which needs to be explained, oh what, whats that you say....another 22 episodes of them, no longer in prison but now the run. No thanks, I'll consider 'Want ad-warpath', 'seduce-siezure' or a 'labial-lady' instead.

cool the stuff you learn from comic books - Balducci levitation - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia I got this from Y: The Last Man...most excellent, now to learn it, teach it to E and then get him to scare the hell out of his cousins.

Guardian Unlimited Comment is free We have turned Iraq into the most hellish place on Earth: "This country has been turned by two of the most powerful and civilised nations on Earth into the most hellish place on Earth. Armies claiming to bring democracy and prosperity have brought bloodshed and a misery worse than under the most ruthless modern dictator. This must be the stupidest paradox in modern history. Neither America nor Britain has the guts to rule Iraq properly, yet they lack the guts to leave.
Blair speaks of staying until the job is finished. What job? The only job he can mean is his own."

BBC NEWS Science/Nature Global ecosystems 'face collapse': "Current global consumption levels could result in a large-scale ecosystem collapse by the middle of the century, environmental group WWF has warned. "

shite and onions, as they say, no job with the corporate silver back which is Möller-Maersk, seems my antics in the last (second, no less) interview were enough to blow my chances out of the water, set them on fire and then attempt to put out the flames with petrol. This is an excerpt:

Interviewer: So, John, what do you know about supply chain management?
Me: Botty burp

and that about captures it perfectly.

Theres a recruitment fair in Malmö tomorrow so I'm off to that to see if there's any other fools I can humilate myself in front of (bitter? - no) and then me and the family are jetting off to Växjö for some of the weekend and then off to the summer house for the rest. Should be fun.

Observation of Swedish life #34: An ancient by-law means that it is legal to hunt and kill Danes if you are riding a pig, naked and armed with a badger. (but only on the first sunday of every month).
Reading: Moondust - brilliant series of interviews with the remaining moonwalkers - very cool, captures just how mad Apollo was. and, in Swedish, Spiderman and Bone.

The Americans are planning an ambitious attempt to go to the moon by 2020, all good stuff but from what I last read theres not actually any new money - its just a shuffling around of existing funds - and I guess the next administration will quietly shuffle the blueprints away. Never mind - the Swedes are going to the moon, and rather than just footprints (which is not the only thing the moonwalkers left by a long chalk, it includes: a golf club, poo, photographs, a feather, a laser beam reflector, descent stages (all used - no resale value), moon buggies, flags, plaques, golf balls, a record (not sure about this one), cameras and Nixon's signature) they intend to leave a small, traditional, red Swedish cottage.

Very quickly done, but it made me laugh. Theres tons of cool advertising stuff from the olden days here.

An Addendum to the last post, reading the comments proved to be somewhat interesting - particularly the quote ''She intelligently said 'Well, if it doesn't do you any good, it isn't going to do you any harm'. ', I'm still trying to figure that one out....like, ohh let me see, how does this dazzling logic perform to say, being shot in the face repeatly at point blank range which, clearly, will not do you any good. Don't get me started on the bones being healed from a distance.

Is Chris de Burgh a miracle worker? the Mail on Sunday...apprently he cured a man suffering from a swollen ankle by simply touching the affected area. 'look, he walks' shouted the excited Chris. To bloody right mate, a paraplegic would use their mouth and eyelids to drag themselves away from the risk of hearing 'lady in red'. Reading the article, and theres much to laugh at (or despair) but one of the best lines is:This is not the first time that de Burgh has professed to having special healing powers.

'In 1993 he revealed that he had warned his wife, Diane, not to move her spine if she should break her neck in a riding accident.' Wells thats just genius.

and.....

' And five years ago he apparently helped cure former Liverpool defender Markus Babbel of Guillain-BarrÈ syndrome, a rare form of neuritis which paralyses parts of the body.
The singer visited him in hospital where he lit a crystal lamp and passed his hands over the player's legs.'

Lit a crystal lamp? What did he use, a fucking blow torch. No wonder Markus claim immediate success and fled the room.

Given the growth of these healing powers are probably in inverse correlation to record sales I expect James Blunt to be merrily working the crowds at Lourdes sometime soon.

and that small thud was my other teste falling off.......very very funny......dTheatre.com : Hilarious STAR WARS Video Mash-Up!

Fantastic mash up, I laughed so much I dropped a bollock. YouTube - The Picard Song

'Bout ten years ago I was did some work out in Eastern Europe, just when I was starting my PhD. I found myself, on a washed out day, walking along an empty piece of coast road on the shores of the black sea. It had rained heavily the night before and the sky had a battered, but bright, appearance. I had walked down a thin set of rickety wooden steps to the coast road, from a park where the autumn leaves had started to bury smashed and disfigured statues of Soviet heroes. As I walked along the road, stepping around potholes and random piles of gravel an old man walked past me, a fishing rod slung over his back. He smiled at me, stopped, and with a mouth which had almost no teeth spoke a few words. I shrugged, smiled, and said 'I'm sorry, I'm English, I did not understand'. He smiled again, stared at me for a few seconds and then carried on. I did to, my gaze flicking across the bay where waves splashed and flickered. Suddenly I heard a shout, and turning, I saw the old man waving at me.
'The storm, he has gone' He said, in English, and then 'now I can fish'. He waved his fishing rod over his head and I joined in his triumphant wave. He turned again, and we walked our separate ways, the distance between us growing as we walked our separate ways around the bay.

Theres something about that chance encounter which has stuck with me and I occasionally find myself thinking about it. I wonder if that old man is still alive, and I wonder if he ever remembers the strange out of place English man he met, miles from anywhere, one day in October. Perhaps not, and perhaps its only something in my head that makes such a random encounter so powerful but it seemed to bright, and vivid, at the time that I find it a comforting memory to return to.

"We are kinda being trained to be warriors.. only in a much funner way".

Watch the future of America:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co1_9lR9EpM

Talk about moving the goal posts - Yisrayl Hawkins With the singular absence of nuclear war since his last prediction of September being the end of the world we have a new date 7 days hence....time to go back to the shelter I suppose.....

aaah, rats cocks. The interview with M was less fun and games and more like throwing rocks at a crippled dwarf in a barrel. This was the second interview, to validate the first (though surely they should have three?) and I would not have been surprised if the guy interviewing me had checked to make sure I really was the person interviewed in the first round. I was blithering like an idiot and would have probably made a better impression had I simply knuckled around the room uttering loud pant-hoots. Arse.

Finally, a serious website concerned with a problem which threatens all our bovine chums......Cowabduction.com
I wish I had the energy to type more, but I'm tired so the news in brief: another interview with M tomorrow, its raining a lot, I can bunny hop my bike on the spot, I am missing skin from my shin (see last statement), my daughter weighs 5 kilos, and I'm feeling somewhat weary.

Moooooo.

Read an interesting article in New Scientist about life online which made me realise how limited my internet life actually is...it occurred to me that I have absolutely zero online pals (i.e. people that I have never met in real life), every one I skype, email or otherwise are all people I have an existing fleshy (so to speak) life with. On those rare occasions when someone contacts me who I don't recognise it gets deleted straight away. Further, theres no way I want to have a myspace profile - I just don't have the time, or give ammunition to a future employer. Living online: Give it a try - tech - 17 September 2006 - New Scientist Tech Anyway, the interesting stat from the linked article is that 79% of British youth utilises instant messaging either via internet or telephone. Fucking hell, my phone does not even have a camera.

Obsessing on: Getting more air on more bicycle, c'mon on weekend.
Hooray for me/sweating about: Got the second interview with M - next week. Golly.
Why oh why: Haven't I seen any movies recently (angst after reading empire magazine recently).
Read: Astonishing X-Men written by the 'we are not worthy' Joss Whedon...most excellent (which the above gag came from).

Not often I poke gentle fun at the Swedish lanquage but this makes me chuckle every time I pass it......

Had my first interview with M today. As they said in there email that the interview would include not only a logical assignment but also a personality test I'd thought I'd preempt them and apply a little reverse psychology. The interview went something like this:

Interviewer: "So, J, I thought we could start by you telling us a little about yourself"
J: "Actually, I thought you could tell me something about yourself"
Interviewer: "But this is your interview, I'm asking the questions"
J: "Does it upset you when I ask the questions? You're being very evasive"
interviewer: "But if you ask the questions then I feel a bit useless...I mean a bit....
J: "inadequate?"
Interviewer: "yes, exactly."
J: "Do you feel inadequate often?"
Interviewer: "well yes, not always but sometimes when I get tired or stressed"
J: "Just at work?....."
Interviewer: "Well (coughs nervously, looks at feet), things have not been going so well at home......"
J: "let it out, its okay if you want to cry"

Surprisingly, it was nothing like that. However, it was pretty positive. I scored in the top third on the logic test and the personality test bracketed me as self assured and analytical with a tendency to sweat the small stuff and not take criticism well. Which, on the basis of a thirty minute chat and a few forms is pretty accurate. Lets see if they think I'm analytical enough for a second interview.

Listening:Benny Hill and Grandstand Tunes...totally recommend spending some time here.
Reading: Hellblazer, Ghost Rider.....erhm, and some shit sci-fi called Polaris which is pants.
Link:Heres a link to the UK skeptics website Home HTML, I have not really checked their site out much so if it turns out that they are funded by Exxon (as http://www.junkscience.com/ is - basically set up to rubbish the 'pseudoscience' of climate change.....check out George Monbiots new book 'Heat' serialised on the Guardian Online pages) then I apologise.

Exxon Secrets......depressing and fascinating. what more could you want.

Yisrayl Hawkins: "The House of Yahweh Prophecy
of 9-12-2006 Has Been Fulfilled "...or, if you look at this woo woo's website, we're seven days into a nuclear holocaust which no one has actually noticed.

Guardian Unlimited The Guardian 150 injured as Hungarians riot over PM's 'lies': "There is not much choice, because we screwed up. Not a little, a lot. No European country has done something as boneheaded as we have,' he said. 'Evidently, we lied throughout the last year-and-a-half, two years.
'You can't show me any significant government measure that we can be proud of, other than, in the end, we managed to drag the government back from the brink.'"

fucking hell, straight talk indeed. Don't even ask me about the Swedish elections......anyway, the toot is that I've got an interview with behemoth which is M tomorrow - so we'll see. Must remember 'bum titty wee. bum titty wee.'.

Yisrayl Hawkins...brilliant, -1 day remaining until nuclear war. Its quite nice out, I'm going to the park with my family. Carrying some Factor 10 000, just in case.

This came from the observer, fantastic. Cannot wait for 'Hot Fuzz' described as Michael Mann directing Midsomer Murders....hows that for a slice of fried gold?

Only one day left! Hurry hurry! Do all those things you've never got around to doing because as from midnight tonight its all going to hell in a handbasket........and its all according to woo woo Yisrayl Hawkins who has found all this in revelations. I tried reading some of his stuff on the website but it was like letting ants crawl around in my head. Anway, as he says on his website '1 day left before the start of nuclear war'. Golly, he's a nut. A brazil nut, or perhaps a cashew.

Just to put your minds at rest I say, in my capacity as Arch Nematode of the High Church of Lost Socks, that it won't happen and the only mishap tomorrow will be the disappearance of a small dog called Alan from his home in Kendel. Don't worry, he'll be found in time for his tea.

BBC NEWS Africa Sudan man forced to 'marry' goat: "'When I asked him: 'What are you doing there?', he fell off the back of the goat, so I captured and tied him up'. "

BBC NEWS Africa Sudan man forced to 'marry' goat: "'When I asked him: 'What are you doing there?', he fell off the back of the goat, so I captured and tied him up'. "

Hitler and Stalin were possessed by the Devil, says Vatican exorcist the Daily Mail.......speechless.

Dust has settled. New baby is back home - after a trip back to the hospital when, after only a few days home, her fever went back up and we were back in Malmö MAS (the local sick-house (direct translation) for two days. Well, K was while I spent the evenings protecting our local environment from our older child. Anyhoo, shes all better now - with a diagnosis of 'a virus' which, as is internationally known, is doctor speak for 'have not got a 'king clue but thank Christ she seems better now'.

All is cool.

Rants: 1. Madonna touting 'healing water', the UK response being (when Mads and her hubby approached the government with their scheme to clear up nuclear waste with mystical Kabbalah fluid) '...just bollocks'. More of the same please! 2. Ex-pats moaning. Don't get me started. Deep breath then repeat 'if you don't like it, fuck off home'.
Listening to: System of a Down. Metallica.
More Rants: Being told I'm overqualified for a secretarial job (perhaps it was the fact that my CV says at its top 'Academic Ninja').

Welcome to the world!

Heres the ever excellent Randi's comments on Steorn...James Randi's Swift - August 25, 2006

some loon predicting the end of the world on september 12th (presumably he felt that the 11th was a little old)......Yisrayl Hawkins.......better cash in my portfolio then.

Heres the Wiki article on Steorns perpetual motion machine.....Steorn - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

More of Tittwhistles work can be found here...Strange in a stranger land: 02/01/2005 - 02/28/2005...a retrospective will appear some time in the past.

The Mystery of the Sheep Tick

A poem in the modern style by the Right Rev. Guthrie Tittwhistle.

Ah, dread fundament that I gazed into slack jawed in terror,
My Witherington Acme Eye Piece clamped in my eye,
Lord Archer lay before me prostrate on a French couch,
crouched with derriere (like a supplicant), rearing heavenwards.

‘No man save Doctor or Priest shall see my withers’ quoth he,
‘and that Doctor has a hint of the Spaniard around him’
Thus I found myself, feeble old man that I am,
Investigating Lord Archer’s case of chronic piles.

I shouted my findings rearward, so to speak,
And, through the oak panelled door
(such revealed anus, the room had never witnessed before)
mumbled the good, but swarthy, Doctor Stuart instruction.

‘Ye Gods’*, I muttered, as the full furnace of his last meal blasted forth,
Shuddering I pushed aside great divots of wiry ginger hair,
My trembling hand lightly squeezed by his stout, leathery thighs,
To gaze, like a pilgrim at the end of his travels, at his besmirched whole.

And, grotesque, and not of gods world,
I saw the root of the pain Lord Archer had lamented of,
when he rode his horse, servants or the stone wall he was,
on occasion, proud to sit on and survey his great tracts.

A tick, a vile insect of hideous proportions,
Peeped out from the fringe of his manky hair,
Teetering as it did on the edge of a dirty well,
Perhaps, like a crone, supping a little in thought from a cup.

Not piles then but of natures kingdom,
Was the source of Lord Archers great pain,
And with the aid of salt and burning torch – with great screaming,
I destroyed that vile insect in a veritable conflagration of burning.

Months later I heard from the village Major,
(a florid faced man most fond of plums),
That the sheep, on the high moor, were found much distressed,
And I wonder? Happen that tick by chance or by mischief?

*In many of his writing Tittwhistle uses expressions such as ‘Ye Gods’ and ‘ by Shubniggnarath, black goat of the woods with a thousand young’ which has suggested to many latter day scholars that his belief in a single God was perhaps not as strong as his title of reverend would suggest.

Last night would have been a good night for the new one to arrive. There was a massive thunderstorm and it rained so much that the streets were flooding - portents indeed. There were not any ravens flying around but it still was suitable norse god weather. However, no baby yet and the weathers grey and overcast, with a bit of drizzle. Obviously going towards the English gods then. And on that subject, they have Odin we have, erm, the Green Man and some morris dancers. Great.

Reading: Spider Man, X-Men, Transmetropolitan (always great), and 'Marvels' - which is a civillian view of superheros, really cool.
Listening: Assuming no baby, the 'Archers' omnibus.

It occurs to me that 'Snakes in a Dane' would have been far funnier....

bloody marvellous...lifelong disappointment : there's no i hate you in team and speaking of blood it was second, and third blood to the bicycle last night, though I got some revenge by bending the back break lever back in one of the more acrobatic spills. Yes, a combination of rain, dark and dirty contact lenses caused several accidents and at least one 'active dismount' in the space of an hour. The last, and the most impressive, was notable in that it took me at least 10 metres to fall off, trying to wrest control of the bike as it slithered across a massive, wet, metal grating which I had totally failed to notice. I also failed to notice the wall I charged head first into, a split second after I got control back. Fortunately, my fall was broken by the border of sea polished cobble stones artfully placed around its base. Result: cut knee, bruised elbow and bent brake lever. I celebrated my fortunate escape by jumping off things (on the bike). And I wonder why people point and laugh.

Waiting: For the baby.
Reading: The Atrocity Archives by Charles Stross. This is excellent Chuthlu mythos mixed with the British Civil Service. Tentacles on the chin, anyone?
Listening: Veruca Salt

Strangeways, not Eton .........nothing new here, but just as a taster of bad smells to come....

The Eugent ships boiled out of dark space and deposited themselves, like turds on a sheet of glass, in orbit around the planet. They coasted for a while from the momentum of their remergence back into reality before their plague engines flared back to unlife with sickly incandescence. Within the bowels of their monstrously bloated forms the galley slaves who had survived the transit across the howlingly insane depths of space began to tread on the vast fly wheels. There was no purpose in their mindless stepping. It simply made the Eugent laugh.
The ships soiled their way down to the planets upper atmosphere. Dark pieces of hull cladding glowed suddenly red as thin gases grazed the ship's underbellies. They shook like nervous beasts. They creaked. They groaned. And sometimes they giggled. Nervously.

Dreadshaft (Caster of the of the Imperial Load, Catcher of the Holy Sow's Milk, Last Holder of the Lost Chance) stared out across the enormity of the battle bridge, across the shaven host and the calculating spider collective, and through the darkened windows. His gaze was on the crescent edge of the planet, and the dark spots which were the other Eugent ships, busily disgorging the Bone Storm soldiers into the upper atmosphere.His great armoured bulk creaked ponderously and the space between his eyes and their protective shield filled suddenly with a dark brown liquid. There was a low percussive boom from within the stygian depths of his body, a flat squeak, and then a metal vent at the side of his armoured, barrel like torso fluttered open and closed. The shaven host and the calculating spider collective swung, as one, on their fracture inducing chairs, away from the seizure control pods, and gazed, slackly, at their commander. Their mouths hung open, released from the mandible control arrays where they had been clamped, tormenting the ship across space. Cloudy, infected drool gathered briefly on the floor before being swept away by midget zombie chimps.

"Gross crew, my chosen emissions selected - despite erectile dysfunction - to join us on this great quest. This...glorious celebration of ultra violence. This communication of pain." Dreadshaft paused, as a particularly thick globbet of liquid squirmed through his helm."We attack now" He squeaked. The vent clanked shut, followed by a series of clicking noises as internal pipework opened and closed. His battle chair began to slowly move downwards, like a sinking ship, down into the depths of the battle cruiser. The shaven host swung back to their workstations, gripping the mandible arrays in their muscular jaws. The calculating spider collection stood and quickly skipped out of the room.

In the upper atomosphere of the planet the Bone Storm Elite streaked downwards on their ItchyCrotch 500 attack bikes. The bikes enabled one rider, and a rear gunner, to sit astride their half living, sausage like bulk. The bikes were like a lump of twisted muscle, pierced with weopons and equipment, a single great ominous eye looking forward. An eye which was currently shut tight, as the pilot cajoled the bike down to the planet at supersonic speeds. Above the contstant percussion of sonic booms could be heard the scream of the bikes war cry.
"oh shit, oh shit, oh shit......mother, fucking hell... I hate this....aaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh"The bikes, the sky peppered with them like gravel in slushy snow, tore down through the sky. They left vivid brown organic streaks in their wake.

****
Down on the planets unsuspecting and rather dull surface, Julian Fishguard (Cretin Class Accountant Grade 2) bimbled his way through the concourses and plazas of Capital City. It was a warm fine day with a fresh wind blowing from the deep blue sky (which, had he been paying more attention, he would have seen was criss crossed with vivid brown streaks which carved their way across from the horizon). Julian was vaguely humanoid, an vat bred offshoot from original Terran Stock Version 3.5, inhabiting a world which had long since been forgotten by the Greater Galactic Continuum. There possibly had once been a purpose in populating a plant completely with genetically engineered humans whose only aim was to be lawyers or accountants but the reason had been lost in the mists of time (or in a filing cabinet somewhere). He entered the portico of his office block, shrugging off a slight splash of rain, nodding his head at the security guard (Insipid Class Lawyer, ungraded) who, has ever, barely registered his arrival. The guard sat, behind his mirror polished desk, in a large bulky wheelchair as he had lost his legs in the great Factoring and Tax conflict of '35. Rumour had it, in the canteen, that he had singly handly deducted a nest of pen wielding export specialists.

High above Julian, and his sweaty musings of shared flat tax and leverage with the busty consultant he shared his office with, a ancient metrological airship drifted through the azure sky. It had long since ceased its use as a scientific platform and now served as a high end restaurant for the wealthier populous of the planet. Its massive yellowed bulk dwarfed the gondola which hung beneath it, but even that was capable of housing some 500 people, their servants and assorted hangers-on, lackeys and boot lickers. For its long since disappeared scientific staff the attraction of the gondola had been the open-air balcony which circled its girth, enabling them to operate their sensitive sniffing experiments and complex rain dances. The wealthy mainly used it for drinks partys, and spitting on Capital City.

Blim Fladderstock (Senior Partner, insurgency class, retired) lounged drunkenly in the bridge of the gondola and cast a lazy drink fogged eye over the bank of controls which, in their indolent ignorance, most of the crew (and particularly the captain) had little clue as to their purpose."I say Captain" Said Blim, waving a ring encrusted hand vaguely in the direction of the half asleep bulk slouched in the chair opposite him."what does the flashing red light, with the words 'Collision Imminent' mean, just beside the screen with the words 'impending doom likely' and just down from the console which is trying to climb out of the window with a parachute strapped to its back?""Well, its probably not good" said the Captain blearily, the gust of air from the now open window blowing his party hat off and sending swirls of coloured tape around him."I think..." begain Blim, which as his last words were unfortunate, as they were certainly not true. The Sausage Bike, its bone storm rider barely holding on (they were called shock troops simply because that was the state they were predominantly in) burst through Blims chest, after punching through the gondola wall, screeching to a halt which threw its madly chattering rider into the lap of the Captain.He looked down at the 1 metre long skeletal creature grinning up at him, its flash flensed skull adorned with largely uneccsesary flashing bionic implants."Definitely not good" he said, as it began to gnaw enthusiastically at his groin.

The debate continues to rage at :Steorn forum - All Discussions Viral advertising, hoax, truth? Heres a good article discussing steorn and their scientific approach. Remember, what the're effectively selling us is the idea of perpetual motion - almost certainly the greatest discovery of all time.

Hoax? To good to be true? Steorn: "We have developed a technology that produces free, clean and constant energy."

sorry, still frothing at the mouth (see ranting below). According to wiki the practice was invented by some Californian lady who became interested in the practice after learning that chimpanzees left the placenta attached until it simply dropped off. Presumably a good thing she didn't watch any other documentaries about bonobo's eh? Once again, hello, monkey/man difference here......we have evolved somehwat not to have the pleasure of draging rotting bags of clotted blood around with us......oh I give up. Instead, heres a nice picture of some bonobos playing 'horse and jockey':

Sorry just a quick rant, as I can't be bother to enter the debate on this at Wikipedia.....I came acrosss this:Lotus Birth - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, which is the practice of leaving the placenta attached to the baby, after the birth, and allowing it to naturally drop off. One of the benefits is, apparently, that the baby receives more blood cells, inc. stem cells. Bollocks! These cells have a life span, just because you get more (and I doubt theres any significant amount entering the baby as, hello, no mothers heart attached to the placenta) does not mean they are going to be around for the rest of your life. Can you imagine the scene? "Heres my new baby, would you like to hold her" (gagging noises) "Good god, whats that foul smell, and whats in the bag......" (fighting off flies) "ohh, thats her placenta, we're leaving it attached, hopefully until she starts first school". The humanity.

Reading empire magazine always makes me feel that I must watch more movies, I only get to the cinema a few times a month and recently, have barely visited the video store (given that the last time I went I got out 7 movies and returned them the next day its probably a good idea to keep a low profile - me, ripping them, no. Mind you, they probably don't care.). Anyway, the thing which occured to me - when I read an article on 'Snakes On A Plane' and the internet phenomena it created (and was partly created by) is that my experience of the internet is extremely limited (or perhaps conservative is a better word). I don't visit many forums (other than the English expat one, which is better these days but still full of comments which makes me want to scream 'if you don't like it, fuck off back home' as it tends to be full of whining 20 somethings complaining about Swedish people not buying rounds and the lack of off licences, oohh, don't get me started), particularly those like youtube and myspace which tend to be full of such internet related bollocks. I have a very middle class experience of the internet, reading the BBC and guardian sites, before downloading progressive metal tracks from iTunes.
But anyway, heres something from SOAP which made me chuckle.

hey hey, me old mate Ramtha's back on line....Ramtha's School of Enlightenment, the School of Ancient Wisdom...check out the Seattle Address, I found my eyes glazing over within seconds - surely not the reaction when you are listening, really listening, to a 35 000 year old Atlantean being channelled through a nice, honest, very rich, lady. You could pose lots of clever scientific questions to Ramtha (like, where the fuck is Atlantis) but theres probably little point, much better to bundle JZ Knight (the conduit for Ramtha) into the boot of a car and drive her into the desert. Wheres your Ramtha now, Knight?

BBC NEWS Asia-Pacific Filipino 'dwarf' judge loses case: "He told investigators three mystic dwarves - Armand, Luis and Angel - had helped him to carry out healing sessions during breaks in his chambers. "

I'm insulated from the news in a number of ways, firstly language - the TV announcers simply speak to fast (and as E has destroyed the TV control I cannot have subtitles), English newspapers are expensive and usually a day out of date and the Swedish ones worth reading take, still, a bit too much time to properly decipher. Its hard to remain enthralled of an article when you have to keep reaching for a dictionary. So articles like this I have to be a little careful of, as I've not seen enough in the news to form any kind of opinion (which is a bit naive anyway). Guardian Unlimited Comment is free The timing is political

Reading: Genesis: story of Apollo 8; The Demon Haunted World by Carl Sagan; The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller; Bad Astronomy (which has taught me that water does not go the opposite way down sinks in the southern hemishere, why the sky is blue, and how the seasons work. Its also full of some good facts for arguing against people who think the moon landings were faked).

Listening: Malmö Festival starts today, so live music for the first time in ages.

Another perfect way of wasting your life can be found at Google Trends, where you can search for what people are searching for.

Thus, I found out, more people in the UK, than anywhere else, and in particular Milton Keynes, have used the search term 'trousers'. The people who looked for 'wanking' the most were the British, and once again were concentrated in Milton Keynes. 'poo' drops MK down to third place, with Portsmouth taking the number one slot as the potty mouth of Britain.

I found this at Google Labs, the Mars phots are worth checking out.

I've had some interest in the whole free running deal since I saw the absolutley wild movie 'jump london' but this is fucking awesome....russian climbing - Google Video its actually latvian, but never mind.....heres some more latvian free running - Dvinsk Clan Awesome awesome!

First blood to the mountain bike then. A few seconds after the front wheel slipped away from me, after bouncing down onto a very wet and slimey piece of duck boarding, I lay on my back and studied first the sky and then, after the pain signals reached my brain, my elbow; where blood oozed through the layer of mud liberally caked on it. Fortunately all the important stuff seemed to be working so I was able to cycle away under the gloomy trees while the rain continued to do its best to undermine by bike and lightening marched across the sky. Bloody excellent, I love it.

Still no insightful oberservations about life in Sweden other than, erm, its crayfish party time soon which means lots of crayfish and silly hats in the stores. Not so good for pregnant people though (bottom feeders and all that (not pregnant people, the crayfish...that would be one wierd craving, wait a minute, a crayfish craving bottom feeder, stop stop, bed time I think)) so will be missing out this year (its not much fun eating an entire mountain of the red critters by yourself. And on the pregnancy point, the little one has being making concerted efforts to freak me out 'alien' style. Remember the dream sequence in Aliens, where Ripley is the Gateway Station Hospital, and you get the idea.

and with the world still going to hell in a hand basket its good to see that JC decides to manifest himself to man 'going through a nasty divorce WDSU.com - News - Holy Shrimp: Man Sees Jesus In Dinner....so thats all right then. On the subject of 35 000 year old Atlantean warriors channeling themselves through a grunting multimillionaire I was hoping to take a look at ramtha.com to see whats going on and what self help courses I could enlist for but sadly its down.

Guardian Unlimited Arts In Glasgow, beware of flying axes: "Don't take crap from your own audience
Jean Jacques-Burnel, the Stranglers
'Very early on we decided that audience interaction made things an event. We developed a philosophy called Truth Through Provocation. For the encores, we'd be in Edinburgh and say, 'At least people in Glasgow know they're Scottish whereas in Edinburgh they think they're English,' and all hell would erupt. We had a similar approach with hecklers. If people spat at us, we'd wade into the audience, until one day we decided it would be more fun and more effective to drag them on stage and stick a banana up their arse. In New York we couldn't get bananas so we used celery. Some people were amused - when Terry Wogan mentioned it on the radio people started queuing up to get it done. But when we tried it in France, it ended our career there for years.'"

Which, despite all hell breaking loose around the world, gives me hope for humanity.

Guardian Unlimited The Guardian After 40 years' burrowing, Mole Man of Hackney is ordered to stop: "Until six weeks ago they had the audacity to tell us the house was structurally sound. The whole of the opposite street lost power one day after he tapped into a 450-volt cable.'" I admire this, in my first student house I fantasised about doing the same. I think I got as far as, when drunk, digging in the loose soil of the understairs cupboard. I managed a few centimetres.

aacch, just spent the last five minutes listlessly surfing the net looking for new age wankers to point fun but, you know, it really just made me sad after I'd read the 10th testimonial from, I dunno, Cynthia from Greenwich, who said 'after five days of the program I felt the toxins leaving my body'. Bollocks you did. You just felt l0ts of cash leaving your body. Anyway, I just couldn't be arsed to continue. Continuing with the science theme I was reading Ben Goldacres Bad Science website and learnt the disturbing news that Brainiac have been falsifying 'experiments' to make bigger bangs for TV..disturbing indeed, and no real surprise. Instead here's some blokes doing the real thing, and just for the hell of it, chucking kilos of sodium metal into a lake.

Swedish life is getting back to normal, E is going back to day care and the days are steadily counting down to the spawning of the next one. Gosh. Had a few beers with a Swedish chum last night which was most excellent. We went to the Pickwick pub, the local British bar and I noted that it comes complete with Adamant urinals. Aaaah, the taste of home....or something.

Reading: Snapped up complete collection of 'Moonshadow' so currently rereading that.
Potty Training: Not going well, the boy just needs to wee on a few more bits of the wooden floor and it will all be a uniformly off-yellow colour.

Something which has bothered me for the two years or so that I have lived in Sweden is the weather forecast. Not just for the grimness of the winter reports (i.e. grey, cold and miserable, stay indoors, try to think happy thoughts and stay away from sharp objects) but for the wierd fact that weather, in sweden, does not seem to happen in the morning. By which I mean that the prediction for, tommorow, will only be from 1400 hours onwards. This has led be to believe that the weather in the morning does not actually exist and is, in all probability, a special effect. Or perhaps its that the weatherman can only be bothered to get up and wave seaweed around, rattle pinecones and squeeze his spots after lunch.

Listening to: Managed to have a quick listen to the archers, after missing about 5 weeks of it. Ed's come back and Mikes getting frisky with Clary. Oh, the humanity.
Reading: X-Men, in Swedish.
And in the news today:......New Scientist SPACE - News - Alien 'art' soon to be revealed

Welcome :: Hoffworld :: David Hasselhoff King of the Internet - Powered by Pipex!.........a brief burst of chest hair madness to start the day off.

The wedding was bloody excellent, the evidence being that I still feel knackered. I wish I had the energy to write more, but it would probably come out as the crazed meandering of a diseased mind. Very tired, like I said.

Book: Marrow, by Robert Reed, most excellent and with a very, very large spaceship, how could it be anything else?
Music: Soundgarden (A sides) and Mr Cash.
Footnotes from History #34: The Endorian Holocaust. Read more. oh, and heres the link to the Star Wars Holiday Special, if you can be arsed.

Sweden swelters sexily.....temperatures are hovering around 25-30 and its bloody lovely in the sea. Of course, it also means that my body becomes a smorgasbord for all manner of beasts leaving me with welts the size of golf balls on my shin, that cavity behind my knee and elbow. Why not my biceps? or knob for that matter - at least then it would look vaguely impressive, rather than just silly. I've been up at the summer house for the last two weeks and spending my time playing with the family, digging holes on the beach, cycling, reading and training. To celebrate my 35th year I was purchased a fine mountain bike, which I am now trying to stuff up my arse my jumping over stuff I am far to old, and fragile, to sensibly consider. I took a trek out the other day and ending up carrying the bike up a very narrow cliff path in the baking sun, much to the amusement of the people watching. The stones they threw were affectionate, I'm sure.

Books: Reread the first book of LOTR - 'fly you fools', marvelous. 'History of Ukrainian Tractors', which is an excellent novel and not as dull as the title suggests (if you've ever worked with any Ukrainians, this book will be particularly enjoyable). Currently reading 'Mailman' which is intense as I hoped but I could do with a little less graphic descriptions of panic attacks. And the usual array of comics including Sin City, Bloom County and some cool stuff by Warren Elis.

True Story: I was out with the family cycling last week when we came across a couple of horses quietly grazing in a field by the roadside. As we want the boy to experience the sights and smells of the country we dismounted, unstrapped E from his child seat and proceeded to pet the horses. Shortly thereafter, as I leaned further over the fence to slap one of the beasts haunches, there was a loud 'crack' sound, I felt like I'd been kicked in the ribs and the horse leapt into the air, turned tail and fled. The moral being, don't lean against the electric fence and don't earth yourself through a horse.

I just read the draft of a earlier piece I wrote to start the blog again. It was bollocks, and was not even close to what I wanted to say. So, simply this. I loved A, he was massively important to my life and I will miss him.

And, well, theres not actually going to be much on the blog for the next few weeks. I'm off to the summer house for about four weeks. I may post a little, if I can be arsed, from the local cyber cafe but I suspect a may be a little caught up wrestling wolves and bears (two mammals enter, one mammal leaves).

ta ra for now.

ScienceDirect - Social Science & Medicine : Contesting contraceptive innovation�Reinventing the script.....check out the authors name, bad geek bad geek - abuse of powerful search engines.

The Observer Business New oil shock ahead as $100 spike looms.....forget all the other shit, this is the early notes of the tune called 'run to the hills, run for your lives'.

now, wheres me interceptor?

well fuck me sideways, Nomak in Blade II was played by non other than Luke Goss. I probably shown have known this a lot earlier, but there you go. Incidently, Luke Goss = Bacon number of 2.

The last few days has been bloody lovely weather which means that the whole of Malmö, ney Sweden, has descended almost to my doorstep to bask on the 'sun promenade'. This is the wooden boardwalk which runs for about 200 or so metres down the sea front here. Almost all the buildings on it are flats, so the owners have an obstructed view - in summer - of acres of sizzling scandinavian flesh. I understand that several of the flat's owners wanted to have the boardwalk private but were told, pretty much, to get stuffed, given that the whole redevelopment of this area was partly funded by tax payers money. If you walk about another 5 minutes down the coast you come to the start of about 3 kms of beach which, now, is pretty much deserted as the place to be seen is the aforementioned. Unless, however, you're one of the nudists (who have a little area at the start of the beach, carefully marked out with white stones)and then the place to be seen, or more accurately, get your cock out, is proudly on the beach, idly slapping yourself dry as you gaze, unabashed, at the shocked englishman.

Listening: Arctic Monkeys. Bad Brains. Prodigy.

From the BBC website:

The local election campaign was overshadowed by the flurry of government controversies, including the storm over foreign prisoner releases and John Prescott's affair with a secretary.

Yes, the - ahem - mislaying of rapists, murderers and other violent offenders (debt to society repayed and all) is clearly a major fuck up and thus well fits the controversy headline but two shags affair (which conjures up horrendous mental images) is NOT a government controversy. Sure its a controversy for his life, and presumably for the body of the secretary his whale like mass descended on, but its got fuck all to do with his ability to be part of the cabinet. Politicians are supposed to be representative of the people, but as soon as there is a sniff of 'sleaze' we demand a type of lifestyle akin to that of the pope. Please explain, its only sex. Its not like, oh I dunno, going to war based on a foundation of lies.

and the day starts well by, it feels to me, effectively abandoning my child into the care of strangers. No, i have not converted to Scientology but instead we're in the process of breaking E into daycare (or 'Dagis' as it is referred to here (which is slang)). We spent most of the last few weeks spending each morning there, either me or K, but starting yesterday we began the process of leaving him there without us. Tears, poo and lashings of angst. Was the result for me. Actually, I feel kind of okay about it as opposed to yesterday, when I did not.

Speaking of poo I managed to catch Viral Gastroenteritus off E, he got it mildly whereas as I got it massively. One day lost with lots of backdoor action as I verily squirted through the eye of the needle, this when I wasn't busy shouting down the bog. The end of the winter has been fucking horrible, this is the third time in as many months that I have been bed ridden. Its playing merry hell with my training schedule but has meant I've pretty much lost my love handles.

Reading: Fast Food Nation, excellent. The End of Oil, just starting it but right up my street. Also rereading Woken Furies (Richard Morgan), as always a good read combining, as it does, the words 'cock' and 'blaster' on the same pages.

Listening: The Archers, I reckon Alistair's going to top himself.

The exciting news is that the Scandinavian Science Fiction Convention is back at Malmö Massan which, as luck would have it, is just around the corner. Its a conference centre now but used to be a SAAB car factory. Interesting little factoid there. Among the guests at the convention are Carl Weathers (Major George Dillon in Predator and Apollo Creed in almost all of the Rocky movies.....), Craig Parker (Haldir from LOTR, who seems to have done mostly voice over work in Power Rangers) and Marc Singer (Donavan in V but also Dar, in the beastmaster). So, usual bunch of bitter, slightly mad actors then. Last year had a very pissed off David Carridine, although the guy who was Chewbacca seemed pretty happy. Personally, I'm looking forward to seeing Paul Blake, who played Greedo in Star Wars (and, as the ever useful IMDB identified, had a role in Crossroads). And, following on from that, and further proof that the Internet 2.0 is indeed the greatest social revolution of all time check this out.

And yes, the blog is coming back to life which also means tales of sausage bikes will no doubt follow.

Watching: Alien Special edition, Dark Crystal, History of Violence, LOTR, Starship Troopers, Akira.
Reading: Ruth Rendell (shite shite shite, I was stuck for something to read and it was either that or the hobbit, in swedish. Wrong choice). Rough Guide to Science Fiction (which has resulted in me ordering Death Race 2000 from Amazon, we shall see. This is actually one of those movies which got talked about at school, where you knew the lines, the plot and the grossest bits without actually having seen the film. I remember discussing in great detail Alien, countless zombie movies and mad max without actually ever having seen them. The prize was, of course, Texas Chain Saw Massacre, of which, it was said, they used real live people for the actual cutting scenes. It was somewhat of a relief when I finally saw it (ha ha), some twenty years later that it was not actually a snuff movie and was, in fact, not that gory.)
Listening: Guardian podcasts

God, just haven't got the energy to write the usual bollocks (its not as if I can claim some form of writers block, that would suggest some element of actual ability)....don't know whats up but my usual internet frolics have seemed somewhat boring recently. Still, boingboing cheered me up (as usual) with among other things, a link to all the images from Abu Ghairab (that high point of the American version of Pax Romana, i.e. Except democracy or we'll kill you), how to put your eyeball back in and an interview with Alan Moore, which is the link I actually went for. (MILE HIGH COMICS presents THE BEAT at COMICON.com: A FOR ALAN, Pt. 1: The Alan Moore interview

Alan Moore, of course - for those whose life is not brightened up by the consumption of comics, being the creator of V for Vendetta....coming to a cinema near you.

So whats up with the Swedish life....well, looks like the job front is going batshit as the NGO i work for is haemorraging money and has none to give me - so back out in the job market for little johnny I feel. Arse. The good news is that I got hold of the latest Steven Erikson book 'The Bonehunters' which was getting off to a bit of a slow start until Karsa turned up and kicked the shit out of some demon type beastie....fantastic. Actually, thats not the only thing in my life which makes me happy, but its the only thing I can be bothered to write about now.

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.

Seems like I've had some form of blogging block and, in actual fact, this will only be a short post as I have to get the dinner sorted. However, the news is that an Equaliser movie is in production - fantastic, this was one of my favourite shows in the '80s. Edward Woodward as Robert McCall. Always classic, every episode fucking brilliant and usually ending with him in pursuit of the bad guy, shouting 'stop' and then a split second later shooting him to death, then standing over the steaming corpse and gravely saying 'I warned him'. Director will be Paul McGuigan, who did gangster number 1 and lucky number slevin. I think.

Guardian Unlimited Film News Mads for it: new 007 villain unveiled....given that hes a Danish actor, I assume his planet endangering weopn will be a collection of rather weak cartoons, or some such.

Disturbing images......Atomic Bomb detonation by Harold Edgerton

Things are a little slow right now, but the days are getting lighter.

Me? I'm just keeping my head down (with chin firmly tucked into my Muhammad T-shirt) Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoons controversy - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Snow is falling, its cold. I had a series of shite meetings, which combined with my still cough wracked body, put me in a black mood. Then the super new modern metro system in Copenhagen decided it would be fun to not let me off the train (though lingered tantalisingly at my station) before whisking me (and other commuters) off to some god forsaken fag end of Copenhagen new town. Once I managed to get back to the main line then had to endure the train to Sweden being around 20 minutes late (which was made worse by the freezing hail being thrown in my face. I asked the man to stop but he wouldn't). Of course, the train doorway was packed even though the carraige itself was empty and so I vented a tremendously english 'oh for fucks sake' which had the same effect Moses had on the red sea and the crowd parted, and I found my seat. Theres probably a moral there, but I suspect its filthy.

More on the Danish/Muslim war:
Guardian Unlimited Special reports Cartoon conflicts

Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoons controversy - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia: As usual, its the internet, so its probably all bollocks but about midway down the page theres some real interesting stuff about how this all kicked off....

Some fantastic stuff here...check out the smart materials......Middlesex University Teaching Resources

The cartoon row over the danish muhammad drawings claims a head with the firing of the French Newspaper editor who reprinted them yesterday.....if you want to see all the pictures you can go here, I read somewhere that they were printed as a result of the newspaper, at first, being unable to find anyone prepared to draw a picture of the prop forward Muhammad. My feelings on this, liberalist that I am, is that THIS IS FUCKING INSANE. This is the 21st fucking century and people are being threatened with death because they drew a sketch, what the fuck! I'm sorry, I've very much into right to protest but c'mon, you're acting like a bunch of spastic mentalists.

Anyone want to buy a T-shirt with muhammad on it?

As you may have gathered Swedens noisy neighbour has managed, where the war in Iraq has failed, to set the entire Islamic world aflame....with a cartoon. This one, in fact, which was one of several printed in the Danish newspaper Jyllands Posten. Its not even that funny. Its at times like this I'm glad I have no faith in anything supernatural, it seems like so much effort - mind you, I feel the same way about supporting football teams.

Computer fixed, cough is not, snow is melting, eager to see what 'Invasion' will be like (though after Prison Break, I'm not holding my breath. Prison Break, which by episode 6 already has had a full on prison wide riot.....thus if its a logarithmic scale of insane plot devices means that by episode 20 they will all be enlightened higher dimensional beings floating in brane space.)

Lack of blogging over the last few days caused partly by persistant illness (hacking cough which makes me sound like something from a period piece BBC drama) and my completely successful attempt to blow up our new computer. Yes, it all started when I tried to install Intel's System Health program, a handy piece of software which lets you know processor temperature and fan speed etc - all of which are handy things to know.....it ended seconds later when our computer had the electronic equivalent of sudden, massive stem death and presented me - not with the blue screen of doom - but the black screen of fatality. Fuck knows what the Intel software did, the guy at Dell did know either and I'm not holding out much hope for the repair dude who comes tomorrow. Put it this way, if the software was a bullet and my computer was a head we're talking quiet 'pop' of silenced Heckler and Koch, sudden spray of red mist and head quickly jerking backwards, followed by twitching foot. Repair guy is bringing a new motherboard, thats all I care about.

Totally flunked a swedish exam today. Bah. I have so much swedish coming in my mouth (to paraphrase the scary German in League of Gentlemen) that the right words get totally mixed up...arrgh, it was all so much easier when I only knew how to say 'I am John' or 'My trousers are soiled, please direct me to the nearest outfitters'.

Listening: a strange medley of Front242, Ministry, Rob Zombie and Leila K.
Reading: More malazan stuff, don't ask.
Wishing: To stop coughing, start training again and writing about sausage bikes.

Greetings. Once again I ponder the purpose of this blog when I read other efforts from similarily ex-patted folk in Sweden who seem to be able to detect the slightest nuance of difference in Swedish culture and then write reams of guff on it. I can't. I'm sorry. But that won't stop me blitering on.

My mouth tastes like rancid steel after the Subway sub I devoured on the way to the Higher education information place....upshot is that the next intake for anything remotely interesting is next Jan, so I've got the rest of this year to get my Swedish knocked into shape....actually, probably not as long as there are various entrance exams to take before. Anyways.

The tale of the Eugent will shortly be updated and move across to seathingcity, assuming I can remember my password for that blog.....

Purchased: Firefly DVD (appearing at some point in the post), James Blunt CD (not for me, I hasten to add, but for 'her indoors').

Strangeways, not Eton

The Eugent ships boiled out of dark space and deposited themselves, like turds on a sheet of glass, in orbit around the planet. They coasted for a while from the momentum of their remergence back into reality before their plague engines flared back to unlife with sickly incandescence. Within the bowels of their monstrously bloated forms the galley slaves who had survived the transit across the howlingly insane depths of space began to tread on the vast fly wheels. There was no purpose in their mindless stepping. It simply made the Eugent laugh.

The ships soiled their way down to the planets upper atmosphere. Dark pieces of hull cladding glowed suddenly red as thin gases grazed the ship's underbellies. They shook like nervous beasts. They creaked. They groaned. And sometimes they giggled. Nervously.

Dreadshaft (Caster of the of the Imperial Load, Catcher of the Holy Sow's Milk, Last Holder of the Lost Chance) stared out across the enormity of the battle bridge, across the shaven host and the calculating spider collective, and through the darkened windows. His gaze was on the crescent edge of the planet, and the dark spots which were the other Eugent ships, busily disgorging the Bone Storm soldiers into the upper atmosphere.His great armoured bulk creaked ponderously and the space between his eyes and their protective shield filled suddenly with a dark brown liquid. There was a low percussive boom from within the stygian depths of his body, a flat squeak, and then a metal vent at the side of his armoured, barrel like torso fluttered open and closed. The shaven host and the calculating spider collective swung, as one, on their fracture inducing chairs, away from the seizure control pods, and gazed, slackly, at their commander. Their mouths hung open, released from the mandible control arrays where they had been clamped, tormenting the ship across space. Cloudy, infected drool gathered briefly on the floor before being swept away by midget zombie chimps.

"Gross crew, my chosen emissions selected - despite erectile dysfunction - to join us on this great quest. This...glorious celebration of ultra violence. This communication of pain." Dreadshaft paused, as a particularly thick globbet of liquid squirmed through his helm."We attack now" He squeaked. The vent clanked shut, followed by a series of clicking noises as internal pipework opened and closed. His battle chair began to slowly move downwards, like a sinking ship, down into the depths of the battle cruiser. The shaven host swung back to their workstations, gripping the mandible arrays in their muscular jaws. The calculating spider collection stood and quickly skipped out of the room.

In the upper atomosphere of the planet the Bone Storm Elite streaked downwards on their ItchyCrotch 500 attack bikes. The bikes enabled one rider, and a rear gunner, to sit astride their half living, sausage like bulk. The bikes were like a lump of twisted muscle, pierced with weopons and equipment, a single great ominous eye looking forward. An eye which was currently shut tight, as the pilot cajoled the bike down to the planet at supersonic speeds. Above the contstant percussion of sonic booms could be heard the scream of the bikes war cry.

"oh shit, oh shit, oh shit......mother, fucking hell... I hate this....aaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh"The bikes, the sky peppered with them like gravel in slushy snow, tore down through the sky. They left vivid brown organic streaks in their wake.

****

Down on the planets unsuspecting and rather dull surface, Julian Fishguard (Cretin Class Accountant Grade 2) bimbled his way through the concourses and plazas of Capital City. It was a warm fine day with a fresh wind blowing from the deep blue sky (which, had he been paying more attention, he would have seen was criss crossed with vivid brown streaks which carved their way across from the horizon). Julian was vaguely humanoid, an vat bred offshoot from original Terran Stock Version 3.5, inhabiting a world which had long since been forgotten by the Greater Galactic Continuum. There possibly had once been a purpose in populating a plant completely with genetically engineered humans whose only aim was to be lawyers or accountants but the reason had been lost in the mists of time (or in a filing cabinet somewhere). He entered the portico of his office block, shrugging off a slight splash of rain, nodding his head at the security guard (Insipid Class Lawyer, ungraded) who, has ever, barely registered his arrival. The guard sat, behind his mirror polished desk, in a large bulky wheelchair as he had lost his legs in the great Factoring and Tax conflict of '35. Rumour had it, in the canteen, that he had singly handly deducted a nest of pen wielding export specialists.

High above Julian, and his sweaty musings of shared flat tax and leverage with the busty consultant he shared his office with, a ancient metrological airship drifted through the azure sky. It had long since ceased its use as a scientific platform and now served as a high end restaurant for the wealthier populous of the planet. Its massive yellowed bulk dwarfed the gondola which hung beneath it, but even that was capable of housing some 500 people, their servants and assorted hangers-on, lackeys and boot lickers. For its long since disappeared scientific staff the attraction of the gondola had been the open-air balcony which circled its girth, enabling them to operate their sensitive sniffing experiments and complex rain dances. The wealthy mainly used it for drinks partys, and spitting on Capital City.

Blim Fladderstock (Senior Partner, insurgency class, retired) lounged drunkenly in the bridge of the gondola and cast a lazy drink fogged eye over the bank of controls which, in their indolent ignorance, most of the crew (and particularly the captain) had little clue as to their purpose.
"I say Captain" Said Blim, waving a ring encrusted hand vaguely in the direction of the half asleep bulk slouched in the chair opposite him.
"what does the flashing red light, with the words 'Collision Imminent' mean, just beside the screen with the words 'impending doom likely' and just down from the console which is trying to climb out of the window with a parachute strapped to its back?"
"Well, its probably not good" said the Captain blearily, the gust of air from the now open window blowing his party hat off and sending swirls of coloured tape around him.
"I think..." begain Blim, which as his last words were unfortunate, as they were certainly not true. The Sausage Bike, its bone storm rider barely holding on (they were called shock troops simply because that was the state they were predominantly in) burst through Blims chest, after punching through the gondola wall, screeching to a halt which threw its madly chattering rider into the lap of the Captain.
He looked down at the 1 metre long skeletal creature grinning up at him, its flash flensed skull adorned with largely uneccsesary flashing bionic implants.
"Definitely not good" he said, as it began to gnaw enthusiastically at his groin.