Oh God You Are Really Spoiling Me!

Hello,

There I was sitting eating my lunch when I heard a faint banging in the distance. Quick as a fox I grabbed my camera and raced to the window and there they were- the Orange folks!. Yes, folks it's marching season again. I imagine this is very similar to being in Rio at carnival time only without all the tiresome tourists getting in the way. And less thongs.

To think it was only yesterday Davo at Bawbags was wondering where on earth the City Council got the idea for the Glasgow-Scotland With Style slogan from and lo the answer comes marching up the High Street. Orange is a difficult colour to carry off and the picture above shows Her Majesty's fan club carrying off this tricky style move with ease. Marvel at the ladies at the back with their stylish blue carrier bags. Observe the Orangeman just ahead of them in the third picture with the two tone hair. Unconvinced then might I draw your attention to the lady at the front in the second photo resplendent in an all white outfit. A magnificent sight I'm sure you'll agree.

Those of you who've not had the pleasure of witnessing one of these wonderful parades may find this hard to believe but the best is yet to come. By July they're in some sort of frenzy and thousands of them take to the streets. You can't even begin to imagine some of the sights on display and if you all behave between now and then I might put up a few snaps for you all to marvel at.

Cheerio

The Social Event Of The Year.

Hello,

I had this poster drawn to my attention recently by a shocked friend. Sadly the social event it's advertising was last night so I'm afraid we've all missed what I'm sure was a truly remarkable evening. I must say Frank McAvennie is an inspiration, he can turn his hand to almost anything. He's had a successful football career a varied and interesting business career and now it would appear he's some sort of pole dancing expert. Astonishing.

I hate to sound catty however I cannot help but observe that most of the ladies who frequent Play would be better suited to a bare knuckle boxing contest than a pole dancing competition, though I feel certain that none of them were put off by this. They do not strike me as a modest or self conscious crowd.

I note from Play's website that there are regular celebrity guests planned for 'Doggy Style' Fridays though I expect they'll struggle to get anyone else of Mr McAvennie's calibre. We shall see.

Cheerio

I know it's cheap and lazy but I can't help myself.

Hello,

There I was last night fresh from despairing at the toffee nosed twittery of the Euston girls when I sat down to watch the news. I haven't laughed this much since the dying days of the Major government. One catastrophe after another. I am of course referring to the staggering series of disasters that have befallen Tony and chums.

I claim no expertise in anything, no special knowledge. I am not an intellectual or even especially brainy but how in the name of God is it possible to lose 1000 foreign prisoners? To lose one prisoner may be regarded as a misfortune but to lose a thousand beggars belief. I might be making a total fool of myself here but is not relatively easy to check someones papers prior to their release from prison and then put them on a plane? Charles Clarke redefines the word incompetence. Perhaps if he wasn't so busy deporting law abiding, decent families he could turn his attention to protecting the public from paedophiles, rapists and murderers . I am starting to wonder if the Labour party have got a bit confused and started campaigning for the BNP instead. Oh for the days when politicians resigned when they cocked things up.

However let's pause to give the nurses a round of applause. In fact stop reading, stand up and give them a two minute standing ovation. The nurses could only have improved on their marvellous attack on the loathsome Hewitt if they'd dumped the contents of a bedpan over her head. 'Substantial pay increases'- not as substantial as yours I'll bet, you disgraceful old trout.

Finally we were treated to the frankly astonishing news that John Prescott had a bit on the side. My mother always says that there's no accounting for taste -but John Prescott! I always thought he was lucky to land that crazy 80's style monstrosity he's married to. I can only assume Miss Temple was understandably confused by his bizarre mangling of the English language and when he asked her to take down some notes she's done something else entirely. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I'd be referring to John Prescott as 'two shags' but thanks to our tabloid chums I am. I haven't felt so delighted at a tabloid since the 'Paddy Pantsdown' Sun headline.

I realise all this has a serious side but it's not often politics gives us all a good laugh so let's just enjoy the fun while we can and always remember there are more of us than there are of them and if we all spat at once we'd drown the bastards. Finally does anyone reckon they'll be able to come up with something to top the Stephen Milligan death by auto erotic asphyxiation scandal and if so what?

Cheerio

I'm Back

Hello,

I have just returned from a very nice swish round Dundee during which no-one mentioned The Euston Manifesto. Not a solitary mention of it. It was almost as if it didn't exist, then I got back had a quick look round the net and within two minutes I had stumbled across not one but three references to the bloody thing. There are times when I think the internet is a gigantic hoax.

Anyway as it would appear my blogging licence revoked if I do not express an opinion on it, I'll lob my tuppence worth in. Well it's more of a confession than anything else. I haven't managed to read the thing in it's entirety, not because I have any difficulty reading. I read all the time it's easy. There's something about the manifesto that gives me the creeps. I think it's the first line
'We are democrats and progressives' Oh fuck off. It makes me very suspicious that line. I bet they all sit about saying 'what this country needs is a strong man in charge' when everyone's backs are turned.

I had a quick squint at some of the blogs that signed up and there it was 'Harry's Place'. I realise it's a very popular blog and I don't want to make it angry but it gives me the willies. I looked at it once and thought about adding a few nun jokes to the comments to try and lighten the mood but I was too scared. I felt certain I'd 'disappear' and turn up floating in a river somewhere- sinister. I had another look recently and found this post about the Iraq war. It was very angry, most indignant about people who were against the Iraq war. I was so shocked I nearly added a comment saying that I didn't mean any real harm but that I was just a bit reluctant to send other people's children out to fight wars when the country wasn't under threat and if you feel so strongly then why aren't you fighting you big girlie conshie? Honestly I felt like sending him a big white feather. Then I read on and thought better of it -he has the backing of 74% Iraqis who were wild for war. This fellow reckons that if you were against the war you need to apologize to them. Fancy! It's a bit of a pity they hadn't realised all this prior to the war then 74% of the Iraqi population could have got together stuffed the other 26% and sorted the whole mess out themselves.

I have to say I'm rubbish at being part of political groups. I've had a few goes at it it now and it's always the same. I turn up thinking ah yes here are my people- then they start talking and that's fine for a while until they go into a frenzy. Someone always ends up comparing something to The holocaust or Nazi Germany when it bears no relation whatsoever to either. I go up the road thinking these people are tits and give up.

Crime and Moonbat Fun

Good Day to you all,

I am shocked! Shocked to the very core of my being. I was idly reading Pigdogfucker only moments ago when I followed a link and came across a news story that made my hair stand on end. It would appear that David Duff has been keeping some very rum company. Very rum indeed. Surely this must be a sign that civilisation is on its last legs. When even respectable bloggers are mixed up with the criminal classes what hope is left?

On to happier tales, following the discussion under the previous post I have decided that if no angry Americans are willing to accost me and call me a moonbat, I have no choice but to proudly proclaim to the world that I am a moonbat. To that end I have added a moonbat button to my blog. Feel free to pinch it and proclaim your own moonbat tendencies to the world.





Cheerio

God Hates and Hates and Hates.............

Hello,
Let me preface the following by stating that I love a good protest. Let's gang up and hurl shoes at the prime minister -wooohooo! Let's go round to Roy's house and call his cat an imperialist- yipeee! Let's denounce a bowling ball -hurrah and down with balls. In short you can't whack an argument that takes to streets. Apart from riots. I do not approve of riots, they are unruly, violent and almost without exception devoid of humour. You never see anyone laughing during one, it's all everyone hates me, let's firebomb a small business.

However I frown the deepest of frowns at the recent protests at military funerals in America. There are of course numerous reasons one could stage a protest at a military funeral assuming one was ill mannered and thoroughly evil enough to do such a thing. You might be a hardcore pacifist or against a particular war, that sort of thing. Or alternatively you might take the view that fighting in the American army is fighting for tolerance of homosexuality. Though you'd be a nutter if you did. That's like calling someone a racist for wearing shoes. The two things have nothing to do with each other.

Not being a parent I can only imagine how terrible it must be to bury your child. I can only asume that it must be a million times worse when your child has died a bloody, horrible violent death. It's one of these things it's hard to find the words for. However I cannot even begin to imagine the total fury the families of dead U.S serviceman who have had their funerals disrupted by these alleged Christian protesters must feel. As far as I'm aware there has not been any violent response from any of the military families who in turning the other cheek have shown more Christianity than the protesting scumbags. They've certainly had plenty provocation in the form of the protesters placards; 'Thank God for Dead Soldiers' and 'God Hates Cripple Soldiers'. Surely no sentient jury would convict if they opened fire on these morons.

There is of course the free speech argument and I do not dispute the protesters right to be virulently anti-homosexual loons. Not even in public with placards and everything. That is because I am not a mentalist. However all families have the right to mourn their dead and I mean that down to the last unsympathetic character you may wish to name-no exceptions. There is nothing to stop protesters timing their protests to coincide with military funerals but holding them away from the venue of the funeral, banning them from funeral venue does not infringe their right to be loathsome. Given that the dead soldiers these maniacs are so busy denouncing would have fought to the death defending them if the order came, allowing them a decent burial is the least they could do to reciprocate.

Bizarrely, considering their lunatic agenda they also disrupted the funeral of Matthew Shephard, a gay man who was beaten to death. I'd have thought the violent death of a homosexual would have been cause for celebration on their part or are they seriously asserting that gays should be denied funerals. The mind boggles.

Cheerio

More....

Hope Springs Eternal

Hello,

Long term readers may be aware that I have a very irritating work colleague who occasionally makes up for ruining my life simply breathing, by making a total twat of himself. Well I'm pleased in a watching a car crash sort of way to announce he's done it again. Before I elaborate let me ask you all a question.

Gays, Bisexuals, Lesbians, Transsexuals, Heterosexuals and Foot Fetishists, what is the one thing that unites us? The one thing someone can say to us that leaves no room for misunderstanding?

Yes it's my favourite the good old 'I like you- AS A FRIEND' knock back. Good God! you don't need to be remotely sensitive to realise that really means 'I don't want to hurt your feelings but I do want you to fuck off'.

Not in the mixed up world of my dim colleague. In his mind he has a girlfriend. He is also under the impression that 'the word's getting round that he's separated' which is apparently causing a fair bit of excitement amongst the ladies of the east end. I should point out that this individual bears a striking resemblance to Mr Bean only not as attractive, wears white shoes and dances very very badly. He is thick too. Thick beyond all belief. At the time of writing he is under the impression that I have no idea who Johnny Cash was or heard any of his music. In the interests of fairness I should point out that I did tell him I'd never heard of Johnny Cash to see if he was gullible enough to believe it. He seems to enjoy believing he is far cleverer than me and I'm quite happy to give him enough rope. I still look back fondly on the pub conversation I was having with another colleague about Oscar Wilde and my total astonishment as that idiot interrupted us and started telling us to read Ron L Hubbard and William Shatner. Apparently some of their ideas are 'really interesting'.

Anyway to return to the present situation. After bombarding this poor woman with text messages she has foolishly agreed to go out with him for a drink only. In his mind this is of course a sign of something serious. He is disappointed that he couldn't 'take her somewhere really nice- like Di Maggios'. Call me a snob but I just about pissed myself when he said that. Wooooo Di Maggios is 'really nice' for fucks sake I'll bet he turns up with a box of Ferrero Rocher and tells her he's an ambassador. I'll also lay money on him having a handy stash of rohypnol with him- that is if she actually exists. In the event she is real I just hope he persuades her to go somewhere with a dance floor.

Cheerio

A Waste Of Time

Hello,

I'm now almost at the end of the most pointless weekend of my entire life. I had made all sorts of grandiose statements about focus and moving forward on Thursday and it has all come to nothing. To illustrate I will divide my intentions and outcomes into two columns.

Intentions
1. Write something for publication.
2. Tidy house
3. Spend the day outdoors getting some fresh air and exercise.
4. Cheer myself up

Outcomes
1. A couple of below par blog entries
2. An even worse mess than before.
3. Lay in bed most of the day.
4. Started reading a book about Iraq.

I could go on but what would be the point. On the plus side I did adopt a virtual pet called Salome today. You can visit her here. Where has it all gone wrong? I appear to have become addicted to acting against my own best interests. I should be sitting here with two fine bits of writing, a tidy house, dyed hair, pierced ears and a camera full of pictures. Instead I look like one of The Twits and have spent most of my weekend in bed.

Does anyone else ever get like this and if so how do they get back to normal?I'm only thirty but I feel about ninety which seems a waste if nothing else. I blame the hole in my living room ceiling and the damp for all of this, that's when 'the slump' started. Some of you may remember that I blogged about this catastrophe some time ago. Well it's still not fixed though I have paid £180 for the repairs. Even my MSP has given up on trying to make Spiers Parnie behave like human beings and they've taken to ignoring me. I can't even be bothered getting angry about it anymore. I'm just accepting it as fact that I am being forced to pay upwards of £30 a month to these clowns to take care of the communal areas of the tenement in return for which I have been left with a hole in my living room ceiling since September last year and a controlled entry system that doesn't work.

Still on a happier note my parents for the first time in living memory have stated that they are 'worried' about me and have kindly agreed to let me go on holiday with them later in the year all expenses paid. It's a very kind, well intentioned gesture and I really don't want to seem ungrateful. It just that I'm not sure the planned day trip to Auschwitz is the thing to lift my mood.

Cheerio

Paedos

Hiya,

There is nothing on earth that can convince me that the people involved in this advertising campaign are anything other than a bunch of child worriers. I'm not one to advocate vigilante action but given that this outrage involves attacking people in the advertising racket I'm prepared to make an exception.

I suppose I should do some research before forming a worldwide network of baying mobs to attack advertising executives but you know what modern life is, I just don't have the time. Obviously it would be a terrible tragedy if one of my bloodthirsty mobs surrounded the wrong agency and embarked on an orgy of violence but in the war against overpaid gak freaks who are into watching small girls bend over 'collateral damage' is I am afraid inevitable. It would also be awful if the words 'advertising executive' and 'paedophile' came to mean the same in the minds of simpler members of the public. Good God! What if Mags Haney got of whiff of this and hurled a hapless copywriter out a window! That would indeed be tragic.

Right I'm off to get my felt pens out and whip up a couple of placards.

Cheerio

BOMB SCARE!

Hello,

I see there was a bomb hoax on board a plane bound for Ireland yesterday. Naturally in these troubled times it was taken very seriously and the plane was forced to land at Prestwick. The bomb threat such as it was, had been scrawled across an in flight magazine. Now I think on it I think I may understand how the hoaxer felt. Anyway the police are investigating and I know these things take time but there were 71 schoolchildren aboard the plane. I'm not Poroit but I know where my long finger of suspicion points.

The whole thing reminds me of my own minor terrorist career. Yes I was a teenage bomb hoaxer or to be more accurate I instigated a bomb hoax and caused a school to be evacuated. If anyone in authority is reading this can I just point out that the IRA are on cease fire and even if I had been caught at the time I'd be out by now so let's just leave things as they are. On the other hand in my endless quest to live a life where I get the smooth with none of the rough, if the Irish people wish to give me some sort of prize for my bold attempt to liberate them from imperialist British rule I will of course accept.

To return to the tale of my own hoax. It's the usual story you're mad with the magic mushrooms when you should be in school, you see a phone, you hatch a plan. The next thing the person with the least worst Irish accent is phoning the school purporting to be a member of the provisional IRA. Ten minutes later we were picking random numbers out the phone book and shouting 'smell yer maw' and 'I'm the creature from the blue lagoon' down the phone at startled people.
We'd forgotten all about the terrorist bit until our school friends came round at lunch time and were gloating about how we'd missed ourselves in school because they'd been out half the morning as a result of a fire alarm. The ungrateful bastards didn't so much as thank us for their skive time. Instead we were treated to a lecture about bombs killing people and told that we shouldn't joke about such things.

I realise that in-flight japes of that nature are a wee bit more serious but I for one feel the wee buggers shouldn't be treated too harshly when they are caught. Boredom is a terrible thing and I suspect that the worst the bomb hoaxer will be doing in five years time is writing a blog.

Cheerio

Dickensian Glasgow

Hello,

I was reading Melanie Reid's column in The Herald today which whilst I disagreed with many of her conclusions, did I feel highlight the plight of a frightening and apparently increasing number of children in Scotland who are criminally neglected by their usually drug addled parents. I don't deal directly with children in my work but see enough of the evidence of this on my travels.

The other day I got chatting a rather drunk young boy at the bus stop who looked about fourteen apart from his mouthful of rotten teeth, grey skin and sunken eyes. He was actually eighteen. He was quite chirpy telling me about his sister's new baby 'fucking massive, man' though he was quite sad he missed the birth as he was in Polmont at the time. He was also a bit worried as he'd missed his alcohol counselling that day and he'd promised his probation officer he'd go.

On a happier note he has renounced gang violence because 'it's nae life when ye canny leave yer ain scheme'. As we were going the same way we continued chatting on the bus when he astonished me by mentioning that he'd never been to the south side of Glasgow. 'Not even to see Rangers?' I asked, noting the emblem on his grubby tracksuit. He told me he'd never been to a football match, though he'd played for a couple of local boys teams when he was 'a wee cunt'. Did the school never to take you to the Mosque or The Burrell Collection? I asked, mentally scanning the likely list of possible south side school trips he might've gone on. Again, no.

I was utterly astonished by this and continued questioning him, it transpires that he thinks the south side is 'somewhere past Yoker' which I suppose it is depending on where you're coming from. He has never been outside Scotland, his grannie took him to Edinburgh once but other than trips to Airdrie and of course his spell in Polmont he hasn't left Glasgow. I did entertain the possibility that I was being spun a line but he didn't ask me for money or even seem like he was looking for sympathy. Judging by the state of his teeth he'd clearly not been to a dentist either.

The worrying thing is I'm starting to see and hear more of this kind of thing. A relative of mine was recently talking to a woman who works for a charity which runs a mentoring scheme for deprived children and was full of tales of children who've barely left their own district, who turn up to meetings with their mentor dirty and unfed and who's horizons are so low they react to a trip to a shopping centre like it's the second coming.

One could get angry with the parents of these children but I suspect you'd only end up getting angry with their parents and so on down the line until you'd find yourself screaming at the dead in sheer frustration. However I would question why the insane policy of children being left with their drug addled parents continues to be pursued. I have had this explained to me through clenched teeth on more than one occasion by someone vaguely connected with social work who advises me that separating children from their parents causes them psychological harm, oh and it costs too much. I strongly suspect it ends up costing much more both in human and financial terms to leave children in such households. Far better to get them in foster homes and give them a taste of normal life. It might also give their parents a good incentive to get clean and get their children back.

I'm also slightly puzzled as to what goes on in schools. Aren't schools supposed to educate children and help them prepare for something a bit more ambitious than swigging cheap wine at bus stops. Perhaps even broaden their horizons or at least teach them to speak coherently. Oh no it's all coming flooding back, yes I remember school. That's where you go to be bored senseless, shouted at for asking questions and have any ambition you might have ruthlessly stamped on by people who get some sort of thrill taking their own career disappointments out on children then making them feel stupid until they stop attending. Which is bound to the children described above a world of good.

Cheerio

Now Off You Go.......

Hello,

Blog Of The Week is up at the Mischief if you're after something to read.

There are some more results of my inexpert experiments with the cheapest camera in the world here.

Cheerio

Deportations

Hello,

It's been a particularly unpleasant week in work. Not because of my mad colleagues and their bizarre antics but because an asylum seeking family in the area have been deported. I do not propose to get into a discussion on whether or not asylum seekers should come to the U.K. Nor do I wish to hear about the friend of a friend of a friend you have that 'knows these asylum seekers right, who are just like totally at it'. As if no U.K citizen has ever lied to get into another country.

What has made this particular deportation so upsetting is, as with so many others, the length of time the family have been here (just over five years). During this time they have become fluent English speakers, made friends and become part of the community. I can only imagine that it's particularly traumatic for their children one of whom was born here and the other who has no recollection of life anywhere else and looks, sounds and as far as I am concerned is Scottish. I realise that asylum applications cannot just be taken at face value and waived through. However is it really beyond the Home Office to process applications, particularly those where children are involved in say a year? It is, I believe inhumane to allow people to settle, feel at home, then boot them out.

The native community in the area are also very distressed by this. Let's remember no-one asked them if they wished to take asylum seekers. Nevertheless the vast majority of them have gone above and and beyond the call of duty to make the asylum seekers feel welcome and all this outwith the gaze of community workers and race relations people. Good God! Is it possible that the white working classes might just manage to get on with people regardless of race, without guidance from above? I would also point out that the BNP stood for election in this area hoping to benefit from the tidal wave of ill feeling the arrival of asylum seekers had brought, only to lose their deposit.

Anyway strolling back towards the point, the native community have by and large put their misgivings aside to welcome asylum seekers and are now, again without being consulted expected to accept the deportation of friends and neighbours. Several members of the native community have told me about friends they have made who have been deported and how this has made them reluctant to get too close to other asylum seekers. One woman was particularly distressed about her friend who was sent back to that haven of human rights Iran and is at the time of writing still alive, though he has been roughed up by the police a few times for the heinous crime of being a Christian. On a happier note the fellow is quite pleased just now because he's managed to bind his Bible into the cover of another book which makes him feel a bit safer. I realise that this government excel at treating the electorate with contempt but surely quick, properly researched asylum decisions are in the interests of all concerned. Not least the above individual and his Scottish friends. I don't know about anyone else but Iran is not in my top ten of countries to be a Christian in.

Of course the low morale, bullying and harassment taking place in the Home Office won't help this situation. Nor have the implementation of yet another shitty computer system and raft of redundancies at the Home Office in the late nineties. If we are to achieve the twin goals of a fair asylum system and safer borders then surely a well run, well informed, properly staffed Home Office is essential.



Cheerio

Menaced By Christians.......

Hello,

Whilst I have been known to have the odd laugh at God's expense, I do have a lot of respect for religion. I am therefore somewhat upset that a group of local Christians seem to have it in for me. I have racked my brains and I can't think what I've done to offend them. It's all so out of the blue in fact only this morning I was chatting to a Church Of Scotland minister and she seemed happy enough in my company. I can only conclude that something I have done between 11am and 7pm has offended them.

To get to the point, someone put a card through my door at around 7pm which seems to imply that I deserve to be crucified- like Jesus! for the crime of 'acting like a rebel on God's territory'. They also seem to think I am in need of a 'permanent deep, down clean' and had the effrontery to write 'Happy Easter' on the front of this dreadful document. Well it would have been until that lot started with their insane threats.

As far as I can make out this series of threats and insults are designed to make me make me attend their services. I don't know why they feel my presence is so important at these things but rarely a week goes by without these theological thugs putting something scary through my door.

One of the most peculiar invitations they sent me was the chance to come and meet Jonathan Aitken- the man who broke Carol Thatcher's heart! They omitted to mention whether or not he would be bringing his sword of truth but I passed my invitation to an excitable Tory friend who repaid my kindness by getting very nippy every time I asked if he'd proudly shown the audience the sword of truth at the do.

I do not wish to offend Mr Aitken given that he is such an avid reader of my blog. However I'm sure he wouldn't mind me saying that as a celebrity guest he wouldn't be top of many lists. If I'd been the church's entertainments manager I'd have gone for someone like Barbara Windsor or Kerry Katona. Bubbly gigglers are always a crowd puller!


Cheerio

Thieves.

Hello,

I was reading in today's Guardian that £150 million worth of books are pinched from UK libraries every year. Sometimes I'm glad I have no time to blog in work because I was demanding the return of the death penalty when I read about this over lunch. By late
afternoon I had mellowed slightly and was down to the return of flogging.

I have pondered the matter further and would now settle for a short custodial sentence or tagging. That is except for anyone who steals my books -they should die. No-one has stolen any of my books for a while mainly because I have stopped lending them to people. I don't know why but with a few exceptions people seem to think 'borrow' and keep mean the same thing when it comes to books. The most, otherwise respectable people see nothing wrong in 'borrowing' a book then keeping it. It's hardly surprising this behaviour has infected our public libraries which now I think on it also contain MY books given that I am a tax payer.

I remember lending a book to a spinster of impeccable character, or so I thought, some years ago. After three months of 'forgetting' to bring it into work she confessed she'd lent it to her sister who'd thought it was 'crap' and left it by a pool in Turkey. I have never been so furious in my life! Her sister only had one eye so naturally she'd only enjoy the book half as much as I did but that in no way justifies leaving it by a pool in Turkey. No-one asked me if my book could leave the country. She's bloody lucky I didn't poke her other eye out. The spinster and the cyclops offered to buy me another one but I didn't believe them. I was right, I'm still waiting. Even though I immediately went out and bought another one I still bear a grudge.
What sort of person deliberately leaves someone else's book in Turkey by a pool?

I have not lent many books since then. Even as we speak one of my collection is astray though I have several of that persons books in my possession as 'security'. These are the very lessons bitter experience teaches us.

The question that faces us now is how to stamp this out in the public libraries. We could arm librarians as a deterrent or name and shame everyone who pinches a Stephen King. Maybe it could be dealt with more informally and a couple of the bigger librarians could rough up a few thieves. A good beating from a handy librarian ought to nip a few budding criminal careers in the bud.

Cheerio

Immortal Hamburgers

Hello,

I have just finished reading 'Don't Eat This Book' by Morgan Spurlock which is the companion book to his documentary 'Super Size Me'. In the midst of all the usual statistics about fat, salt, sugar and the like is the most terrifying and bizarre food fact I have ever come across.

Big Macs don't rot. A burger that will not die or even grow a little beard no matter how long you keep it for! Can this be true? How is it possible?

The book refers to one Matt Malmgren who has, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, a collection of McDonalds products which are over ten years old and apart from being a bit dried up are exactly the same as the day he purchased them. Of course they do smell. The worry is that they smell exactly the same as they did the day they were purchased. Why haven't they gone off? Do they contain embalming fluid? It's all there on pages 115-118- go to a book shop and look if you don't believe me.

He first discovered this remarkable fact when he accidentally left an unconsumed cheeseburger in his pocket before hanging the coat up and not wearing it for another year. Imagine his surprise when he found the intact burger a year later. Meat that even maggots will not eat! I ask again is that possible?

God knows, I'm no health Nazi but that cannot be a good thing. Not for eating anyway, though lord knows what alternative uses they could be put to. Maybe the military could use them for defence purposes. Any enemy would be petrified by an attack of immortal hamburgers. I know I am.


Cheerio