I’m sure you’d have all seen the charade where some clown-shoes boxer slapped his opponent at the weigh-in?  Then he started a fist-fight with another boxer as well.  I’m not even going to name the twat.

I can’t remember who it was, but I also remember recently hearing another British boxer threatening to ‘rape’ his opponent.

For fucks sake ban them for life or at least stop having stupid press conferences encouraging the fucktards from saying this stuff!  What a waste of time boxing has been for the last 10 years…

Or maybe they’re just a true reflection of society?

It seems to me that most people – and I do mean almost everybody – seems to have some deep craving for stress and drama in their everyday lives.

Maybe it’s the backlash of 30 years of sitting in front of the TV watching vaccuous scum in soap operas?  Maybe Public Enemy were right in ‘She Watch Channel Zero’ talking about how if you watch enough of that shit it becomes your reality?

Well, a Hell of a lot of people watch that shit.

I’ve recently had the ‘fun’ of organising a party for my recent engagement.

Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ!

Don’t the fucked-up family politics come out to romp around when you bring anything like weddings and engagements up?  The jealousy… the control… the one-upmanship…

Drama.

Why does everyone seem to need to have some crap going on in their lives that spells the end of everyones world?

You don’t HAVE to live like that.  There’s a time to shut the fuck up and go along with people, and a time to take a stand.

I’ve said it before that the best people you can have in your life are the ones who have truly seen drama.  Stuff that could have ended their life.  People who’ve lost everything and clawed something back together again.

When you’ve really been staring down the barrel you learn to forget about all the minor, nagging bullshit that people stress themselves over.  Give yourself a damned reality check!

You make the choice to carry on your miserable-assed existence, and I don’t appreciate it when your choice tries to drag me into it.

Getting on a plane and going very far away from everyone to get married without the bullshit is looking very tempting right now.

Maybe somewhere without soap operas.  Or boxing.

Can you remember your first real Valentines Day – that one where you got something or gave something for the first time?

Our family has never done this crap where your Mum sends you a card.  Aside from hearing the ‘Deliverance’ banjo’s in my head even thinking about that, I suspect it cheapens real love and its meaning, and no doubt turns you into some cold selfish monster, with no appreciation of love from a partner.

Hehehe – how many readers has that lost me then??

Seriously though, the first time…

In the Summer holiday before I started Middle School (which made me 9), I met a girl who lived in my village, and fancied her straight away.  Her Dad raced karts, and she showed me her garage with his kart in – err, that sounds really bad!  Anyway, when I started school, I saw her again, but she was in a different class.  Being young and stupider, I admired her from afar, and never approached her.

A few years later, I finally spoke to her, and it turned out that wasn’t the same girl I’d met before school.  In fact, maybe I dreamed that whole thing, because I never saw a girl near that house again (and I rode past a lot on my bike that Summer!!!).  Spooky, but back to the point we must go:

It was the fourth and final year of Middle School when I finally plucked up some courage.  We were in the same class the year before and also for the fourth year, so I had spoken to her.  I used to piss her off and she’d smack me in the balls – it was true love!

I decided to use my Ninja skills and send her a Valentines Card.

I carefully cut all the letters I needed out of a newspaper, and like some kind of demented kidnapper, used sticky tape (we didn’t have glue) to put them all in an anonymous card.  It was probably something a little like this:

It seemed like a great idea at the time, ok?  It’s only looking back now that I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the Police!!!

I snuck the card into her desk unnoticed, and watched and waited as she discovered it and puzzled over who had sent it.

She didn’t know I had a major crush on her, and my friends knew even less!

Still, later in the day she confronted me with it.  She looked a bit surprised, but really happy with it (bet she’s into bondage and kidnapping fantasies now), and asked me to my face if I’d sent her it.

*groans*

And so I point-blank denied it!!!

I still kick myself for that today!  I was terrified at the thought of admitting that to her, so I didn’t!!!

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t… either way, I’m a -ing rubberhead.

A few months later she ended up with someone else at a school disco, and that was my first heartbreak….

A very hard lesson learned, as we went to different high schools, and I never saw her again – apart from one weird psychic dream incident that I saw her after, but was too shocked to speak to her and she never saw me…

7 years later I still thought and dreamed about her.  I like to think that after all that time, it taught me NEVER to sit and say nothing again.

Tell them!!!

Get out there, and send that girl or boy you fancy a Valentines Card – and SIGN IT from you!!!

What have you got to lose?  You’ll regret it if you don’t!

Umm, I wouldn’t recommend doing it in kidnapping style though… although… maybe there’s a great idea there for some ‘holding my heart hostage’ comment…

Hope you all have a great day, and send SOMEONE a card – it’ll make their day!

***Special Note***
The girl concerned in this is actually now a friend on Facebook.  This blog is actually a repost from a few years ago, and I DID come clean and even gave her the link to this blog!  She said she always suspected it was from me!

No, I’m not calling for us all to push our gay brothers and sisters back in the closet – I’m talking about the recent trend where shops have to hide their cigarettes.

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been in a shop, buying porn, fisting mittens, alcohol and chilli sauce, when I’ve suddenly seen the display of cigarettes and thought “Wow!  I really should get some cigarettes and smoke the whole lot tonight, too!”

Oh… hang on… Yeah, that’s right – that has NEVER happened.

The chances are, when you buy a pack of cigarettes from a shop, it’s because you SMOKE.

If you’re not a smoker, you’re hardly likely to be tempted by the joyous colour markings (or maybe the picture of cancer-riddled infant testicles) on a packet of Marlboro or Silk Cut.  “Well, I came in for a Lottery ticket, but now I’ve seen THESE on display I realise if I DO win, then I’ll be able to afford to buy fucking cigarettes – so give me a box of 200!”

I’m probably in what would be considered the highest risk category of being persuaded to buy cigarettes – because I ONLY smoke when I WANT to smoke.  20 in a night or none for 6 months – it doesn’t bother me.  I know for a fact that I won’t buy them just because I can see them on the counter!  Do none of you fuckers understand that I CAN make the choice to smoke or not, without killing myself???

For fucks sake will you retarded do-gooder mongs stop trying to hold everyones hands as if they can’t make up their own minds!!!

It’s no wonder nobody these days will take responsibility for their own actions when the whole of fucking society is telling us we don’t have free will, and so they’ll have to guide us to do what they think is right.

This week.

Next week it will probably be alcohol… or ‘fun’ in general.

“What did you do in The Great War, Nasty Evil Ninja?”

I keep telling you – I wasn’t in any -ing war!  Having said that, I was wounded in ‘Nam.

Birming’Nam.

Weirdly enough, from what I can work out, I’ve picked up a nasty knee injury by sitting on the couch, drinking Bud and eating cheese and chilli covered nachos whilst watching the Superbowl.  Either that or Lill Boo was practising her wrestling moves on me when I was asleep afterwards.

Either way I woke up with pain and ruptured synovial membrane.  Bah!

As the internet is down at work I figured I’d update you on random thoughts, and a bit about what’s going on in my life.

Not bloody much!  It’s Winter – so I haven’t been riding my bike.  It’s not how it used to be…  I mean, I did 10 or 11 Winters riding sportsbikes on the snow and ice!  Looking back at it now I have no idea how I ever survived?  I’m so glad I managed to capture a few rides on video, because who is going to believe that I rode a ZX9R through fairly deep snow in conditions so slippery that I actually started sliding backwards down a hill!  Well here is the proof:

Aside from being pretty damned sure I’d never try and repeat anything like that (I actually rode my VFR750 in much deeper snow and slid backwards down a different hill), I have to admit that there is a part of me that misses it.  I’m not sure if it was ‘fun’ exactly, but it’s probably more to do with how much of a thrill it was.  How extreme.  How unique.

But after 11 years of that I learned to drive a car just over a year ago, and find I also love driving.  Compared to being on a bike, if you get out of shape in a car, you have time to go and make a sandwich, have a quick look on Facebook, and THEN do something to stop you from crashing.  It’s easy as Hell!

Winter is pretty much dead time for me.  I can’t do trackdays or anything I want, and there isn’t even any motor racing on TV.  Apart from rallying – and that just doesn’t cut it compared to waiting to see the Moto 2 boys slugging it out with 20 bikes going for the lead!

So I’m on Facebook a lot.  Playing stupid games.  And if I can safely sneak it in without Lill Boo getting bored to death (no, this is not inuendo!), then I’ll get the Xbox 360 on.

I’m still waiting with bated breath for GTA 5 to come out, but that’s ages away.  I discovered the Dragon Age games a few months back, and sunk many hours into those, and have just started on Elder Scrolls: Oblivion.

I think I still prefer Fallout for that type of game, but Elder Scolls is pretty damned good!  It should tide me over until the snow pisses off and I can get my kicks scraping my knees on the tarmac again!

What do you lot do to keep you amused through the Winter months?

As a side note to all this, I learnt the other day that one of my favourite people on YouTube for his hilarious bike vids, mask pranks, and other malarkey - Svengalie – has passed away…

He seemed like a really good bloke, and it appears it may have been a suicide.  It goes to show that you never really know what’s going on in someone’s Real World away from their online antics…  Such a shame.  He was only 30 and had kids.  My dearest thoughts go out to them and his friends and family.

I’ll leave you with the first ever vlog I saw of his (before I even knew what a vlog was) that made me laugh so much.  Hopefully it will do the same for you, and spare a thought for Steven Love:

When I bought the 1994 Fiat Uno as a first ever car around a year and a half ago, I didn’t really expect it to last for a year.

As it turned out, the car never let me down!  It still started first time every time, and ran well.  Handling was surprisingly good – it went exactly where you pointed it, and having hardly any mechanical grip taught me how to drive smoothly and keep the momentum going to make progress with a car that made maybe 45hp back when it was new.  Pushing past those limits it was very predictable (and drifted quite nicely!), and much as I tried to hate it at first, it was quite a pleasure to drive!

So despite me thraping it around, it took it all and actually seemed to get faster to suit the way I thrashed it with a metaphorical stick.

Sadly, just as we went into Winter, it started blowing out it’s coolant.  Smelling the coolant made it almost certain that the head gasket was blowing, and combine with rusty sills and unrepairable rear suspension, there was no point spending cash on what was about to become a money pit.

Although it still ran perfectly, it wasn’t going to get any better – so I started looking around for new cars – aiming to pay £300-£500 for some shitter with long tax and MOT.  Basically, the bike is my performance/fun vehicle – the car needs to get me to Aldi and fit the shopping in the boot, and be capable of long motorway journeys off to weird and wonderful places to shack up and shag.

How crap is buying a new car?  I mean, it’s probably ok if you have a big budget, but to try and find something that’s cheap and runs is a nightmare.

Everyone lies.  Someone once made the very good point that “Nobody ever sells a car because it’s perfect”.  Most people sell them because they want it off their hands before they have to pay huge bills for it.

So my main concern was that it DID work, and that the even bigger expense of insurance was affordable!

And insurance makes no sense!  A Fiat Bravo crapper can cost twice the insurance of a much newer, bigger engined Ford Focus?!

As it happened, my sister was selling her Honda Civic Sport – so a few checks online showed that this VTEC ‘sports’ was still cheaper than either of the two mentioned before!  WTF?

And so that’s what I’ve done!

Expecting another old shitter of a car, I’ve actually now ended up with a car I actually quite like the look of, has ‘Sports’ written on the back (and it wasn’t done in permanent marker by me), and might even handle quite well!

And of course it’s a known quantity and not being sold because it’s about to blow up!

So R.I.P. Fiat Uno – I did a quick search for local scrapyards and was going to get some quotes, and came across: http://www.cartakeback.com

They gave a list of what local scrapyards will offer for your scrap car, or a price that they’ll come and collect it off you for  £140 in my case, and there was no hassle or anything.  I put my request in online, they called me back confirming details and arranging the pick-up, and then I came back to find the cash pushed through my door and the car gone!  Excellent service and highly recommended!

Now, should I factor in a drive to the Nurburgring this Summer…??

APPARENTLY it’s illegal to swing someone around by their eyelids just because they piss you off?!

Not that that’s why I was in Crown Court today.  No – despite my assorted skallywag behaviour over the years (on both sides of the legal fence), I was not in any danger of hearing those immortal words “Take him below!”.  Unless I’d have worn the tie I was planning on, anyway…

I had an Official Summons (“You’re nicked if you don’t”) to give a witness statement for the Prosecution.

Apparently this is a terrible thing to happen to you?  Most of my Cow-Orkers gave me their deepest sympathies, whilst I was a little bit excited to get to experience something new.  Not court.  I mean, the whole ‘taking the stand’ thing was all very good and stuff, but I was more looking forward to getting a hire car for the drive down… even if it was in London.

I hate London.  I’ve said before how when I was a biker courier I got the same sick dread if I was to be sent to London as I used to get at high school when I’d got double Maths and hadn’t done my homework…

*shudders*

The thought of someone FINALLY letting me loose in their car (despite me being used to 190mph and 1000hp per tonne on a bike, and having done more advanced driving training than almost everyone else I know) gave me a happy.  As it turned out, my request for a BMW wasn’t approved, but I did get a brand new Renault Clio Diesel BlahBlah Estate.

A great car for me, really – very easy to drive with loads of low-down grunt but not enough power to get me into much Trouble.  When I floored it it seemed like it was about to do something SPECTACULAR….. and then just sort-of went ‘Meh…’ and sat back down again without hitching it’s skirts up and proper legging it.

Loads of space and quite comfortable, but maybe a little too big for what I really need.  And out of my budget anyway… If I had the money I’d consider one, though!

Anyway, I guess you want the juicy stuff, not a review of a mediocre estate car, right?  Right!

I arrived and got through security then went to meet my contact who is a Police Officer in the case.  He made me sign the Witness Statement and then I went to wait in a special room for Prosecution Witnesses, which was attended by two lovely ladies who made me a cup of tea and explained what would happen and stuff.  I chatted a bit to the other witnesses, but we weren’t able to talk much about the case because, well, you’re not allowed to.

As this was all last minute stuff to me, all I know is that I’d confirmed that a person was not a solicitor, and that’s pretty much all I knew, and all I would have to say on the stand.  Someone’s been Naughty somewhere, and the Crown Prosecution Service were going to nail them.  I don’t really know how naughty, or if I was in danger of getting whacked before getting to the stand?  Either way that didn’t really bother me.  It’s not like I haven’t faced down the barrel of a gun in the course of my working day before now, so what more is there to fear?

It’s an ADVENTURE!!!

Although that is, admittedly, when you have a highly skilled team there to back you up.  I’d think it was pretty unlikely to happen for this trial, though?

Anyway, I waited around for a few hours, people started to get a bit excited as we were due to be called, with the likelihood of us having to attend the next four days or more…

And then I was released!

The Judge had accepted my sworn statement, and I was no longer needed.  It was a bit of a let-down, really.

I managed to blag a quick tour of an empty court room – just to see what it would have been like.  Judge Judy wasn’t anywhere in sight.

So I headed off to a local Thai Restaurant for a Pad Gar and a Thai Pancake with coconut icecream!

OM NOM NOM NOM!

But, wait!!!  A pancake is just flour, egg and milk, right?  WTF did they use to make this one GREEN???

Oh, and of course as I went to London, I bought a Heat magazine!

For those of you who aren’t familiar, TalkTalk are a broadband and home phone provider, and the ‘Rainbow Song’ that I keep referring to is this:

Again and again and again and again.  Just imagine how many times that song on a loop fits into 4 hours?  So here is the letter I’m sending in to them to resolve some issues:
- – - – - -
Dear TalkTalk,

Whilst generally I would say I am happy with the service I’ve received, having thought about it for a while, I am now wondering why.

For well over a year the connection has just become ‘expected’ to drop out on average two times per hour.  For the last few months, between the hours of 17:00 and 23:00 this can be expected to be ten times per hour… twenty times… sometimes much more.  I’m not entirely sure how this ever became acceptable?

Still, for the privilege of this service, it appears that the price plan which I am on hasn’t even existed for at least the last seven months.  It hasn’t existed because it has been replaced by one costing half the price.

Apparently, this isn’t worth actually mentioning to me, despite the initial contract I was tied to being over well before this.

On the number of times I’ve had to call your technical support because of total failures in internet connection, your staff have managed to remedy the problems and get me back connected to the dodgy service – obviously only for between 2 and 30 minutes at a time as usual.

Even better, during these phonecalls whilst waiting for several hours to speak to support, I’ve had the extreme ‘joy’ of discovering that TalkTalk has one, and only one song that they own the rights to.

Yes, this means I have spent approximately four hours of my life to date listening to some weak, soulless hippie singing that f**king ‘Rainbow’ song.

Over and over and over and over again.  The SAME b*stard song.

Whilst this may be just dandy from your point of view, to any customer actually having to sit through it, I can assure you that it is an experience which quickly induces a state of psychosis and depression during which I have often considered eating my own face to get it to stop.  The cat has recieved numerous murderous glances just for making a sound or being within my red-misted field of view as the phone speaker cracks as I’m again informed “There’ll be a rainbow” as the c*ck-nosed singer reaches the crescendo of the chorus.  Again.

Personally, I hated the song anyway, but I should imagine that ANYONE calling the TalkTalk technical support line, even the biggest fan of the Rainbow song in the world, would at the very least hate it with a passion afterwards.

Anyway, enough about the dreadful music.

What I propose is I leave TalkTalk and go to a broadband provider who can afford more than one song.  Actually, considering how much I have been overcharged as a long-term customer, it’s quite amazing that you don’t have the funding to spend on an 80s mix tape or something instead?

Alternatively, I propose that my price plan is changed to reflect every other TalkTalk customer (i.e. dropped to the regular lower price), and the additional months where I overpayed be credited to my account.

Also I would like an engineer to come out to check the TalkTalk line and equipment, and think it would be rather nice to have them swap my ‘g’ router for the far more functional ‘n’ type like all the top broadband providers supply.

Yours sincerely,

Nasty Evil Ninja

When most people get into a fight, they’re trying to do one thing: smash you in the face with their fist so hard that it knocks your head off.  There’s rarely any more thought or skill involved than that.

This is fine if you’re a huge lummox, but if you’re unfortunate you may find that you’re the David and your opponent is the Goliath.

The chances are your little puny geek self won’t be able to take Goliaths head off with one almighty tomp – so what do you do?

You get sneaky.

Pressure points are all well and good if you have the skill (or luck!), but for most people they won’t work either because your opponent is freakily immune or because adrenalin dump has taken control and you now have all the motor skills as King Kong on ether.

So you need to hurt them or at least damage them enough that they stop pummeling you long enough for you to do your little girly run back to your Mum.

You’ll have heard before in my ‘How To Win Any Fight (without even hitting them!)’ blog about how to get your elbows up, and try to break their hands when they hit you.  If you haven’t read this blog – do it now!

If you want to be a bit more proactive then breaking their bones is always a good move to stop them wanting to hit you.  The nose is an easy target if you stop swinging big looping haymakers and fire off some open-handed hits (or punches, but you shouldn’t be using a closed fist, really – trust me, the info on that is in another blog) straight down the middle towards their face.

Some people will still come at you with their nose spread out like a squished butterfly, but it should slow them down enough to leg it away.

If you have a bit more skill then just as they step towards you, stamp on their shin/lower leg as they finish the step, and you can snap their leg.  Or stamp on their feet and toes – whack anywhere they have small bones and it’s easy to break them.  Punching the back of their hands is also good but requires much better timing.

If they’re getting in close them rake their eyes with your fingernails, or prod a bony digit into their eye socket.  Try and pull the eyeball out and the fight will go right out of them.

Testicles are an easy target, but as I’ve said before, if you give them a good smack most men will realise they’re going down and so try to murder you in the few seconds they have before the pain hits.  This is A Bad Thing.  Also don’t be shy to do the same to women – I have it on good authority that a ‘punt to the cunt’ is rather painful to the fairer sex, too!

And that’s it.  As ever – KEEP IT SIMPLE!  No fancy complicated moves – cause as much damage or pain as it takes to stop them and then get out of there!

Remember that it might take a 300lb hoofer to the head to knock out some people, but around 8lb of pressure in the right place on a small bone (nose, fingers, toes etc) will be enough to disable an attacker just as effectively.

Sometimes I really do wonder how the Hell certain people became ‘celebrities’, or why certain ‘celebrities’ are even famous.

Here is one who’s -ing everywhere in every bastard film and apparently he’s the new God of the Comedy genre:

Owen Wilson.

“Oh, he’s soooooo funny!!!!!”

WHEN?

Just fucking WHEN has he EVER been funny?

What the fuck is wrong with everyone to think this Cunt-Wig is in the slightest bit funny, so should be in every ‘comedy’ film?????

Am I missing something?

Is it just because he’s ‘good looking’?

He looks like a gay hair model to me.  Anyway, nobody thought he was all that when he was the bad guy in Karate Kid!

Err, that is him, isn’t it?  Anyway…

He wasn’t funny in the slightest in Starsky and Hutch, but I let it pass and gave him a chance.

Then I tried to watch what looked like it could be a really funny film: You, Me & Dupree.

Holy Rat-Nippled Christ!

By half way in I had to stop the film because it was sapping my will to live – and it’s THAT unfunny fucker I’m holding responsible!  I tried my best to watch it… and after 1hr 13 mins I was actually feeling depressed at how shit it was, and I swear to God I cannot make it to the end of the film!  I think this may be the first film ever.

ARGHHHHH!!!!

I’m sure I can’t be the only one in the world who thinks this, but it sure does feel like it.

I hate the bastard almost as much as ‘That Cunt’ Jack Black.

We’re nearly there!  Little Johnny is almost being sick with excitement, the dog/cat is already saving up his innards ready to crap in your Aunts shoes during the Christmas meal, and general madness has taken the nation!

I still blame the Christmas music, of course.  I have songs that I absolutely fucking LOVE that I haven’t heard as many times as some of those bastard songs.

I’m actually sat writing this at work and sniggering because the CD player is skipping like Dale Winton on amphetamines.  It’s just a matter of time until someone turns it off… or I put my earplug back in and put my own Christmas music back on.

What’s that?

At The Gates.  Specifically, it’s the album ‘Slaughter Of The Soul’.  Now THAT sounds Christmassy to me!  Either that or ‘The Principles Of Evil Made Flesh’ by Cradle Of Filth’.  Or the first two albums by Ultraviolence (‘Life Of Destructor’ and ‘Psychodrama’).

I suspect this is because I got these albums for Christmas, but also because they DO sound like Winter.  Cold.  Precise.  Brutal.

And GENUINE.  Unlike the shit we get force-fed as ‘festive’ – the same songs that are almost as if they’re trying to convince themselves that we’re “simply having a wonderful Christmas time”, and all that Jive Bunny shit.

It is depressing to me.

I’ve heard people talk about going to the supermarket at 7am today to find it filled with people doing their shopping ready for the big day.

That’s ‘day’.  Singular.  As in, the shops are closed for TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS!!!

Correct me if I’m wrong, but for the rest of the year most people cope with only shopping once a week?!  So why, all of a sudden, does everyone go all Frothy-Mouthed Gaa-Gaa because we can’t go shopping on just that one day??

If the shops were open on Christmas Day – would anyone actually GO there?  Chill the fuck out, have another glass of sherry, and get some turkey down you FFS!

I hope you all have a great time, and I hope weird shit happens to me so I can blog about it all.

Chances are it will be a tale of being forced to watch childrens TV and Emo Eastenders – but I’ll be clinging onto that sherry haze for dear life!

Merry -ing Christmas!