Spy Didn’t Padlock Himself Into Bag Shocker!!!

Spy Didn’t Padlock Himself Into Bag Shocker!!!

I made the mistake of switching the 1 O’Clock News on today.  The lead story?

An inquest has found that an MI6 operative might not have padlocked himself inside a sports bag in his own bathtub.

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Seriously.

This is wrong on soooooo many levels, that whilst I calm myself and stop making spakka noises at the TV, I shall give you a link to the full story:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-17865736

MI6 officer inquest shown bag closure attempts

Footage of separate attempts by two experts to lock themselves into a bag has been shown at the inquest into the death of MI6 officer Gareth Williams.

The body of Mr Williams, 31, from Anglesey, was found in a holdall in the bath of his London flat in August 2010.

William MacKay, who said his military career made him adept at working in confined spaces, struggled to shut the bag and he caused damage to the zip.

Peter Faulding said it was very awkward and the “temperature rose fast”.

Mr MacKay told the inquest – which is trying to establish whether Mr Williams was locked in the bag by another person or did it himself – that locking the bag was a skill that would have required training but that once a person had done it, they could not get out.

He added: “There are people around who can do amazing things and Mr Williams may well have been one of those persons.”

But the next expert witness, Mr Faulding, said that he had tried and failed to lock the bag from inside 300 times – and added that he was sure it could not be done.

And so on…

Right.  First off are they trying to say that someone went all David Blane and put a holdall in the bathtub, climbed into it, padlocked it, and then tried to Houdini their way out?  Or that they climbed inside for some very bizarre emo suicide attempt?  And wouldn’t using a hammer be easier if it was the latter?

Secondly, how the fuck is this the primary news story today?!  Note that this actually happened in 2010!  This is just the Government/Judicial system spending millions to find out, two years later, whether it’s possible that someone else may have been involved.  I could have saved them all time and money by saying OF COURSE SOMEBODY ELSE WAS PROBABLY INVOLVED!!!

*Feel free to send me a message through WordPress if you need an Expert Witness for any similar cases – I offer discount rates for block bookings.*

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And then, THEN we get to the core of this!  This was an MI6 operative – or a Spy in laymans terms.  So essentially this is another ‘Spy Gets Murdered’ shocker story!  A bit like a ‘Soldier Gets Shot At’ shocker, or ‘Government Are Dumbass Cunts Who Rip You Off Yet Again’ shocker.

Anybody who’s ever watched James Bond or even Austin Powers will be aware that spies kill each other.  It’s sort-of what they do.

Surely, the first person who found this mans body padlocked inside a bag in his bath immediately thought “Shit, someone’s murdered Agent Gaz!”, rather than “Oh wow!  Gareth seems to have accidentally killed himself by climbing inside a holdall and padlocking it!”?

Am I missing something here or has every other cunt gone mental whilst I wasn’t looking???

BONUS FLIDDISHNESS:  As an aside, the weather expert on this same news programme has just confirmed that “April has been a very wet month”.  Fucking genius!!!

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Chompy The Secret Pet Spider – Where Are You?

Chompy The Secret Pet Spider – Where Are You?

Chompy is a secret pet of mine, that I’ve had and trained for months.

Most of you will know that I hate spiders. That’s ok, because they hate me right back. If I see them they die. If they’re too bif to stamp on or whack with a rolled-up Bromsgrove Standard, then they get shot with my air pistol.

This war has been going on for years.

I did allow a small spider caller Tarquinn to live in my bedroom for months, before he was found dead in a freak accident involving a Micro Machines Porsche 911 and possibly the Ipswich strangler (I might re-post the blog sometime), and last year there was a small jumping spider we named Pedro who lived on my desk at work until some hot-desking Nobber went and drowned him in a can of Coca Cola.

I first saw Chompy sat by the base of the toilet, where he had a spot he’d relax in (do spiders ever relax? I’m pretty sure they’re like some kind of paranoid psychopath hopped up on super strength amphetamines permanently, but whatever…) which came as quite a shock to me at first, in that “ACK! THERE’S A -ING SPIDER THERE!!!” kind of way you get when you see an unexpected spider. I grabbed the toilet brush and had a quick go at crushing his head, but he swiftly turned around and ambled off underneath the skirting board.

Partly because people think I’m a big jessie to be scared of a spider, and maybe partly because I’m getting older and more tolerant, I decided that I’d give Chompy the chance to live in harmony with me. The deal was he’d stay out the way, going back under the skirting board when I took a dump, and he’d NEVER sneak up and surprise me, and in return I’d let him have a go at eating the horde of Silverfish that invade our bathroom whenever the lights go out.  It was a good deal!

Chompy was a good learner, and only once snuck out while I was sat on my throne and tried to lick my heel. When he heard me make a tiny strangled noise of fear and lift my leg up above my head possibly shooting out a bit of scared poo, he turned around and went back under his skirting board in shame.

He grew quickly on his diet of Silverfish, and got to be a good healthy size – much bigger than any spider I’d usually keep around (in one piece, anyway!).

My fiancée Lill Boo didn’t believe me at first that Chompy existed, and of course I never told her where to look, and he had a fair few months before she caught sight of him (only recently) and I had to come clean about him and where he lived.

After several days with no sign of Chompy, I’m worried for him.

Have I offended him?

Has he grown too fat on Silverfish, and got stuck under the skirting board?

Has something even more sinister happened to him?

I still call his name as I head up the stairs each day, hoping… hoping…

Where’s Chompy? I miss you, man!

Grand National And Hurr Pains

Grand National And Hurr Pains

Saturday was Grand National day.

For those that don’t know, this is a huge horse race watched by everyone in the UK, and everyone takes this one day out of the year to place a bet on their chosen horse, even if they’d never dream of betting on anything any other time.

The last few years I’ve done rather well, and so for this year we arranged to go out to the pub and celebrate things properly with a daytime drinking session.

The drinking went well – the ‘picking a winner’ bit not so well this year.  I think from our £30 stake on various horses, we won back £4.50 for the one donkey we didn’t bet on.

I know at least one horse ‘bought the farm’ (Synchronised?), and everyone will go on about how barbaric the sport is etc, and they can all go shove their heads up a dead badgers ass.  If you don’t like it, you don’t have to watch or support it.

I’m pretty sure the horse that threw it’s rider before the start was one of the dead.  Admittedly, they SHOULD have pulled the horse (who went galavanting off around half the course on its own) – but then I had money on the twat, so wouldn’t have wanted that!  The other that died – According To Pete, or something – looked like a bloody Shetland Pony, so that doesn’t really susprise me that he couldn’t jump anything over 19″ high.

We got an early night after topping off the beer with a customary Donna Kebab, but then during the night I woke up and everything started to feel a bit Wrong.

I got some antacids down me to calm the burning in my stomach, and then about 10 pints of kebab came out of my toothless end.

Just as the torrent was calming, another 10 pints of kebab came out the speaking end.

I’m not sick very often, and will fight any feelings of sickness like a Mo Fo, but I was pretty much gone, here.

Being me, even in the midst of this highly violent bout of vomiting, I still managed to say “I sound like the Devil” in an Alan Partridge style!  This almost amused my Fiancee who by now thought I was dying.

The weird thing is that after that I felt ok.  I mean, today I can feel what I call ‘Hurr Pains’ – from all the muscles used when your body convulses as it retches – but I was up in the morning and out on the bike with some mates.

I even managed to eat a bacon sammich from the bikers cafe in Bridgnorth with no ill effects.

Will I ever be able to eat another Donna Kebab, though…?

You Got Knocked The F**k Out!

You Got Knocked The Fuck Out!

The aim of most fights is to knock your opponent out.  Actually, the aim of most of the Scrotes around these day is to knock you out and then tapdance on your head for 15 minutes, but that’s another story…

People always ask me (well, one person back in 1989 hinted he’d like to know) what is the best way to knock someone out.  What’s the best way?

The simple answer is that it’s actually not that easy.

We see it in films all the time, where someone will belt someone on the jaw and they go straight down, out cold.  In reality, most times they will just look at you, all angry and stuff, and then hit you back, right in the face.  If you’ve ever watched ‘Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels’ then you’ll remember the scene where they’re trying to knock the traffic warden out…  That’s how it usually goes…

Of course there are several ‘knock out points’ on the body – boxers will be well versed in these basic ones that you can whack, and there are also loads of pressure points that require more finesse.  The real joy is that all of these is that anybody can catch them completely by accident.  Or the flip-side is that some people are seemingly immune (especially after alcohol or drugs).

The basic ones are on the temple, the point of the chin (towards the back of the head), the side of the jaw, and between the top lip and the bottom of the nose.

Most people will swing punches at their opponents head to get the knock out, but there are some great ones lower down, too.

Another major one from boxing is the liver.  As you look at your opponent, the place to hit will be just where their elbow falls below their rib cage on the right hand side of their body.  This will send a jolt through their whole body and produce a knockout that’s delayed by a fair few seconds.  If you’ve ever been hit here you’ll know what a pisser it is – and also that you can literally tap someone here and they’ll still go down.

It’s also really easy to use a quick deception such as raising one hand slightly then twatting them to the body where they won’t be expecting it.

There are lots of pressure points even in the legs which can cause a knockout – would I recommend chancing them in a life or death situation?  Hell no.  Stick with the proven stuff.

The humble slap is often very underrated.  Not only does it make your opponent look like a bitch, but I can tell you first hand that you can easily cause a knockout.  In fact, it’s far preferable to punching, as you have less chance of breaking your knuckles or hurtig yourself – and you cause a lot of blunt trauma and shock damage with the added bonus that you can burst their eardrum.  Ok, so you might look like a bit of a sissy who slaps like a girl, but the chances are nobody will call you on it if someone is lay at your feet snoring in a puddle of blood and snot.

The neck is also a great target for knockouts – but be aware you’re quite likely to kill them and spend the rest of your days in jail muttering about only wanting to knock them out and not murder them…

For this reason I’m not going to give you these here.  Please bear in mind that even the cleanest knock out still carries the risk of killing them, if not from the blow then from smacking their noggin on a table or whatever as they fall into their little slumber.  If you don’t want to kill someone – don’t fight them!

If you can’t knock them out, or are just feeling nasty – cause as much damage to them in as many ways as possible – and that’s something we’ll cover in another blog…

And A Deathly Roar Filled The Skies Once More…

And A Deathly Roar Filled The Skies Once More…

The motor racing season has finally started off again!  This makes me happy, after the long, dark, bleak Winter of nothing but diving soccer pansies and the odd re-run of some of last years racing!

I went to Silverstone a few weeks ago to watch the 750MC club races, and especially the first round of the Formula Vee championship – where the racing was awesome as it is every time the single-seaters are out.  I even remembered my sun screen so didn’t get burnt for once!

And of course the Moto GP season kicked off last weekend with the new regulations.

I’m a bit gutted to see that Valentino Rossi isn’t living up to his God status yet again, even finishing behind one of the satelite Ducati teams, and well below Hayden.  Personally, as much as it pains me to say it, I don’t think Rossi has ever recovered from the crash that broke his leg.  I hope he gets back to the top again, but I have to say I doubt it.

I think you’d be mad to bet against Stoner taking it again this year.  Lorenzo looks strong but he’s a horrible little cock-end, so he can pig off.

Moto 2 is as frantic as ever, with at least 6 bikes fighting for the lead, and the new Moto 3 shows the same promise – although it is sad that the two-strokes are no more…

Formula 1 is all a bit ‘meh’ just like it has been since around 1993.  They should scrap it and televise Formula Vee in its place so we can actually see some racing!

My usual problem is that only having Freeview TV, I barely get to see any racing other than the above.  Everything else is on Sky TV and other stuff that costs money.

Someone from a bike forum has recently either saved my life or ruined it.  They’ve given me a link to a website that streams all the sports channels (and more) from around the world – all for free!

It all seems to work perfectly (providing you at least have Adblocker Plus running through Firefox – it was a nightmare before!), and I now have access to, in technical terms, shitloads of racing from NASCAR to, umm… whatever obscure racing is televised.

Here’s the link for anyone that may find it of use: http://nowwatchtvlive.com/2011/07/online-british-eurosport-2-hd-channel-watch-eurosport-2-stream

The other night I watched the Bathurst 12 Hour GT race which was great, and cock full of action for an endurance event.  I shall look forward to many more such things on there!

Next I just need to get myself back out on track again…

Hey, Clown Shoes! A Year With FiveFinger KSO’s

Hey, Clown Shoes!  A Year With FiveFinger KSO’s

 

I’ve had my Vibram FiveFingers KSO now for just over a year.  I know a lot of you had questions about them, such as were they a fad, are they any good, and don’t you feel silly in them.

If anything, my views on them are even stronger than when I first got them.  Look down at your bare feet.  Have a walk around.

Now put your shoes on and look again.  It’s not right, is it?  Have a walk around and feel how different it was to when you were barefoot.

I got into a heated discussion on a forum on the latest super-duper expensive running shoes, and all the scientific studies about which the best conventional footwear were presented.

In short, it’s all crap.  The simple fact is that we did not evolve to wear shoes.  Shoes were bodged around our feet to protect them, and because technology wasn’t very advanced for cavemen, shoes were designed without toes or the ability to allow for natural movement of the foot.

There is no debating this fact – this is nature and evolution and the most basic human physiology.  Shoes are as wrong for feet as fingerless mittens are for hands.

From that little rant you may gather that I don’t think of the FiveFingers as a fad or trend.

 

I don’t wear them all the time, but I absolutely LOVE putting them on if I’m doing any walking up hills and stuff.  They’re not so great for concrete, but for anything off the beaten path I want to be wearing them.  I’m sure my legs have adjusted, but I still feel some pain after a long trek in my calves.

I’ve put a fair few miles on them now, and they’re still absolutely perfect.  I’ve worn them in forests, high up in the hills, on beaches, and even got a lot of very funny looks wandering around Bulgaria in them!

Sand, mud, soft grass and gravel are all like getting a foot massage – plus you can appreciate the temperature changes between cold marshland mud and scorching hot sandy beaches.  It is awesome, and a truly unique experience of what we should all experience every day of our lives – if shoes were what they should have been, or we stayed barefoot!

Are they worth the money?  It’s a lot… but I’d have to say yes!  You do have to wash them regularly to stop them stinking – so I bung them in the washing machine and have seen no adverse effects of this at all apart from my fiancée moaning.  Nothing has pierced or cut the soles so far (although a huge thorn had gone through at an angle the other day), and I haven’t had any Alan Partridge moments of piercing my foot on a spike.

And the big question – Do I feel silly?

It’s very rare that anyone openly points at them and laughs (only in a shop in Bulgaria, so far!), but you do hear hushed comments and giggling occasionally.  To wear them you have to be aware that they ARE different, and so people will react to that, but I don’t actually feel silly now.

I’m more worried that if I’m wearing them in the high street or a pub that people will think I’ve just bought them to show off, or for the hype.

I haven’t.  I bought them because they made sense, and I thought they might be great – and they haven’t disappointed.