Tuesday, 7 June 2011

A Note

"Dear neighbour/friend/probable Cambridge graduate/superior human being,

Thank you so much for that note you left on my car this morning. Without people pointing out my stupidity, sometimes I wonder just how I’d be able to drag myself out of bed every morning.

Your note kindly pointed out that “I should know better than to park here” which is a good, firm yet fair point. Unfortunately for me (and yourself) someone was parked in my space last night and, seeing as it was about one in the morning (maybe earlier, I often struggle with telling the time) and I was suffering from a severe case of “too tired to care” I saw this space just so happened to be empty along with at least one more. I decided to play rock paper scissors with the two spaces (best two out of three obviously, to make it fair) to try and assist me in making such an incredibly complex decision. Upsettingly, I kept winning against both spaces. After about ten minutes I decided that clearly I was some form of rock-paper-scissors god, so instead resorted to the tried and tested method of eenie meenie miney moe. This is when your space won. Or lost.

I did however have a brainwave, and decided to leave a note on their car;

Whilst maybe not as detailed or well written as yours, I feel the smiley face makes mine better. Do you like it? I think it gets the point across quite well.
As you can see, my handwriting is terrible, so I had to write this on the computer. It took about fifteen minutes to turn the stupid thing on, but I got there in the end.

Your note left me in tears this morning with your hurtful words, so I’d like to offer a truce:

I’ll do my best to not park in your space in future, but I would ask that you be kinder when you next leave a note.

Yours sincerely,


Yes, I was in the wrong, but they were mean!

And yes, I did put this on their car...

Tuesday, 22 February 2011


It just so happens that I am the world's No.1 procrastinator.
By writing this in my last post:

"I'm going to try and blog more"

Quite clearly I meant:

"I'll blog when I can be arsed"

which obviously means:

"when I've completed every single game I own, done my housework (About 10 times), sorted my bills out, Bought Christmas presents, wrapped Christmas presents, had Christmas, celebrated another year gone by, celebrated Chinese New Year, watched as the end of the world didn't happen, and done just about every other big, small, exciting, boring, difficult, easy, meaningful and meaningless activity I can think of."

I'll be honest, I've sat down to write this, unsure of what the heck I'm actually going to write (Which clearly doesn't bode well for the rest of this post, or the blog as a whole).
I had two options before starting:

-Delete blog. Carry on with life pretending it never existed and surrender to the fact that I have the ambition and determination of a WAG who left school at 16, tried college for a bit, realised A-Levels weren't "her thing", went into hairdressing, decided she was too good for it, and then ended up settling for a substitute on the reserves of a football team in the lower half of the Conference division.


-Continue blogging. Who cares if people don't read my blog, or do read it but only out of morbid fascination rather than genuine interest. If nothing else I can use this to look back and see how my views/interests/English skills have evolved. And to brain-fart when I'm annoyed. If I delete my blog now, whilst deleted from blogspot.com (Sorry, Blogger.com), it will sit in the back of my mind as a constant reminder as to how my willpower is as strong as the Panda's will to procreate.

More posts on their way, I guess...

Wednesday, 1 September 2010


Right. I've set myself the target of blogging more. Also, to go to the gym more. And eat more healthily, spend less money etc etc.

At least the first target is realistic?

I was very young when I said this (about four or five), but I once said to my Mum that "Brown people are made of poo".

I remember this moment clearly because it's something I'm deeply ashamed of. I didn't know or associate with anyone of a dark skin colour, I couldn't comprehend the idea of a different skin colour, so I decided to attack it.

My mother, in one of her moments of wisdom, simply replied with;

"One day, you're going to make a friend who has dark skin. Then you'll realise what you've said is wrong."
At that moment in time, I remember feeling that there was no way in hell she could be right.

One day an Indian boy started at my school. And I became good friends with him. In fact at one point, best friends with him.

I apologised to my Mother whilst feeling tremendously guilty for saying such horrid things that clearly weren't true.
She just smiled. No "I told you so" was needed. She didn't need to say anything, she just understood that I was young and uneducated

-Uneducated being the key word there.

Racism isn't just skin colour. It's now anything from accent to your home country.
All this anti-immigration propaganda being flashed at us on a daily basis from The Daily Mail and The Sun, are just proving how little we actually know about other cultures.

The "Ban the Burka" slogan only makes me want to rip someone's head off every time I hear it.
Let me first disprove the common argument from your average idiot;

"Oh, when we go over to their country, we have to wear a Burka, so they should do the same over here and respect our laws"

-Hold up.
We have a law saying "At all times, you must not wear something covering your face"?
Well, that's news to me at least.
Perhaps the Burka-Bashers (I can use alliteration to make a catchy slogan, too) should realise that by wearing the Burka, these women are actually respecting our laws of freedom of speech and freedom to wear (pretty much) what you want in this country.

If we, as a country, understand that these women aren't forced into wearing the Burka (Despite what seems to be frequently repeated by people with no point of reference) and that they wish to of their own free will, and learnt the real reasons why they wear them, then we might begin to empathise with them. We only find Burkas intimidating because they're different.

Some comments from Muslim women regarding the Burka, relating to the possible ban in France (Found on the BBC);

"I am a Muslim women who wears the burka and never ever was I forced to wear my Islamic dress code or even felt remotely enslaved by my Islamic values and clothing. Mr Sarkozy doesn't understand Islam and never will because his heart is full of hate to my religion.

I was born free to make my own choice."

Mariam Siluiman, Paris, France

"Why it does not bother us when we encounter nuns (YES Catholic Nuns) covered the same way? Through education we will overcome this obstacle - not through judgments - and YES help these people get educated not judging them."

Benhard, Paris, France

"All over the France half of the French billboards and commercials are studded with pictures of virtually naked women. Just because the males seeking pleasure in those naked pictures of women would turn the eyes to these commercials.

The French do not have any objection to when women are turned into an object of pleasure, but when few women want to have burka as a part of religious/social custom, then the French start to preach their social doctrine.

It should be the people who dress should choose how to dress themselves rather than the president of their country. Why can't the French be open-minded as the British are."

Haldia Saudagar, Caen, France

I could rant on forever about different forms of racism, and how it's ignorant, and backward pedalling, but instead I'll finish with this;

Here's hoping that with more education, people will begin to mix with other cultures more freely, and strive to learn about other cultures, and eventually embrace them.

Tuesday, 31 August 2010


Yep, Agnosticism is a real word.

I had someone label me as an Agnostic a while back. Until then, I'd always thought of myself as an open-minded Atheist.
Turns out that's pretty much the definition of an Agnostic. So yes, I guess I am one.

I've been observing things lately. Trying to talk less (which is difficult for me. Very difficult.) and see and hear more. By hear, I mean listen. Actually listen to what people have to say.

I'm not a Christian. I don't believe in a God. Any God. That doesn't mean I'm not religious.
I try to think of Jesus as a prophet more than anything.
I follow his teachings as best I can. Whether he existed or not, whether he was the son of God or not, someone, somewhere came up with those teachings, and had them written down in a big book.

And let's face it, everything that that man apparently said, was brilliant.

One story that stands out for me, is the story of the adulterous woman;

About to get stoned, probably to death, for committing the act of adultery, a lady is brought before Jesus by various Scribes and Pharisees, and he's asked to cast judgement.
He ignores them, and instead begins to write on the ground with his finger.
Desperate for an answer, the group of people repeat their question to him until he simply stands up, looks at them and says;

"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

And then continued writing on the ground with his finger.

Of course, no-one could. And so they fled, one by one. And when Jesus looked back up, he found only the woman there.

"Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?"
"No man, Lord"
"Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more."

This was a whole new approach. As opposed to "An eye for an eye" they now had this man questioning their way of life. Asking the accuser if actually, they were as guilty as the one they were trying to condemn. At the same time, he didn't point the finger, didn't condemn those who were accusing, but instead let them reailse it for themselves.

This story is more relevant today than ever. More applicable than it has ever been.

I often do this. I point the finger, before I even know the circumstance.
I try to judge others when in fact, I'm no better than them. In fact, I'm probably worse.


Next time you point your finger at someone, notice that there are three pointing back at you.

Thursday, 3 June 2010


So, I haven't updated for a while.
Meh, I've been busy, and that thing called 'life' keeps taking priority...

Anyway, I've just come back from a two week holiday in Italy.
Sicily, to be more precise.

I'll start the blog with a simple statement, then contribute a comment/view on it, and then elaborate some more.

"Broken Britain"

I'll proceed to take this statement, place it in my mouth and chew it thoroughly. Then I'll swallow it, regurgitate it, spread it out onto a road, and have a Fiat Panda (The Fiat Panda part being actually kind've relevant) drive over it until it looks like, well, I'm unsure as to what vomit looks like after being run over for an hour or so, but not pretty anyway.

I have so many points to talk about, I'm struggling to decide where to start.

I've always taken for granted what I have, where I live, etc. but this experience really hammered it home.

Palermo, Sicily, and from what I can see at face value, Palermo should be a clean, thriving city, with a mixture of modern architecture, and preserved ruins and old buildings/statues/etc. where people respect their fellow person, where rubbish is collected regularly, streets are kept clean, tourists flock to the city for the sunny weather, beaches, and the tourist attractions.

-This is not the case.

This city, that is the capital of Sicily, that is part of Italy, which is a member of the G8 (that is, effectively the 8 most powerful/rich countries in the world) is, for lack of a better word, a shithole.

Rubbish piled high on every corner, constant urine and feces in the street (Both human and animal), Beggars (some with gold teeth) at every turn, graffiti plaguing the city, and, I hear this is the case for Italy in general, NO traffic or safety laws. Or none that seem to be in place.
Helmets? They're pretty much a fashion accessory. Two people on a moped only? Rubbish, four can fit easily, including your two toddlers without helmets.

The horn is pretty much something cars live by. Pavements are an option for mopeds.
Pedestrian crossings? Pfft.

10, million different police forces.

For example;

The Carabinieri (Military Police) - They don't deal with 'small' crime.

Polizia di Stato - Apparently, these guys are in charge of traffic crimes and other small things.

Polizia Penitenziaria - Prison Police.

Polizia Municipale - Pretty much the Same as Polizia di Stato, but like, a different police force.

There's also Coast Guards, and Forest Ranger Police, and Financial Police...

You get the idea. The point is, they may do things differently with their police, cool, fine, whatever, but THEY'RE STILL NOT DOING ANYTHING. Police everywhere, and none seemed to be doing their jobs.

We climbed to the top of a mountain and saw some amazing views and wildlife, including wild snakes and lizards. But then we stumbled across woodland covered in litter, and this statue, right at the top of the mountain, ruined. Again, the mountainside, covered in litter, and filth.


I could keep going on, but I'm trying to make a point.
I'm half Sicilian. My mum was born in Palermo.
She was embarassed to be there. She claims it's gotten far worse in the last 20 years.
I've just had my first true insight into my roots, and honestly? It disgusts me.

How can a government forget about an entire region of it's country like that?
I am more than certain the Mafia have a fair bit to do with the state Sicily is in, but whatever the case, this has all led to one conclusion.

Broken Britain? When countries are in as bad a shape as that, and there are countries far worse off than Sicily is, we don't have the right to call Britain broken.

Saturday, 10 April 2010


To build on my last post, I've noticed something more in recent.

Life seems to take any and all chances it can to snatch people away from us.

Whether it's to try us, to test us, by chance or by choice, or even by fate, it happens.

If you're lucky enough to have a chance to say goodbye to the loved one before they go, and can tell them how much you loved them, count your blessings.

If not, make sure you tell everyone you love, how much you care about them as often as you can.

-Ensure you cuddle your pets at every chance you get, as they're part of your family.
-See your friends at every opportunity. And make more whenever you can. Even if you only have a few close ones that you want to spend time with, make sure you do that, and see them often. Friends are equally as important as family, and life would probably be far worse without them.
-See/ring your grandparents as often as you can. They're amazing, and they send you chocolate and money at Christmas, Easter, and Birthdays. And you'll miss them when they're gone.
-Keep in touch with your wider family. Your cousins, your Aunts and Uncles, your distant relatives. They're still your family, whether you get on with them or not.
-Try your best to forgive your siblings. They're incredibly annoying, but remember you annoy them just as much back, and at some point in your life, they may be all you've got.
-Love your parents. Really. They gave you life. However you were conceived, you've got them to thank for your existence, if nothing else.

Appreciate everyone and everything around you. You never know when it all might be taken away. This message is repeated over and over again, and it still can't be stressed enough.

And so, I'm becoming more and more aware of how little time I've actually got on this Earth, and how the time I do have here needs to spent with my loved ones, enjoying the time I do have to the fullest extent.

Sunday, 4 April 2010


So this post is a set of reflections after going out on a boozy night, for a good friend's birthday, after much drinking, laughing, and admiring attractive women, etc.

The way home was less a yellow brick road, more a two mile trek of cycle tracks, chavs and mopeds, however, I was accompanied by another good friend, so made do.

We chatted, discussed the good bits of the night, the awkward bits, the stupid things I'd said, and so on.

I reached my house, awkward man hug goodbye, and to bed I collapsed.

Next morning, and my hangover cure; I spent 45 minutes in the shower, reflecting on the drunken dreams I'd had in the night, and going over events, thinking how she was hot, she wasn't, he was nice, he wasn't, and how "Oh, why did I say that!? And maybe if I'd said that, I'd have been funnier, and maybe she'd have fancied me, actually, wait, I'm not even sure I fancied her, anyway." and so on. You know, normal thoughts one has about the night before...

Somehow though, my head managed to worm it's way round to an old friend of mine who was a Jehovah's Witness.
I remember, him having a birthday, and telling us he didn't celebrate it, because it was part of his religion not to.
As I understand it, Jehovah's Witnesses are a very strict.

Now, obviously, after having such a nice time the night before, the idea of not celebrating a birthday at all, is an alien concept to me. I'm not going to go into the belief side of things, for want of debate or another, I don't know anywhere near enough about the religion. Hell, I'm still not sure whether they're part of Christianity or not...

But I'll just jump straight to my point.

They don't celebrate birthdays!!!!

For a start, as a child, had I been a Jehovah's Witness, I would not have got this:
(Space Precinct. Best show ever. My friend broke the door off. My brother never forgave me...)

I don't understand, how in this world full of misery, and I mean filled up to bursting with hate, murder, rape, peadophillia, war, crime of all sorts, something stops us celebrating birthdays? And Christmas. And Easter.

We need any excuse nowadays to see our friends, our family, to go out and meet new people, not less reasons!
We need any excuse to have a good time.
We need any excuse to show the good side of human nature.

Hell, we need any excuse to show love.

What I love about most religions, most of the time, is that they bring people together! At weddings, at birthdays, bar/bat mitzvahs, etc. some could be religious events, others might not be. Others might be a religious event being celebrated by non-religious people, but know what? That's fine too.

People having a good time, laughing, rejoicing, knowing that someone has lived another year, been born, been christened, that two people are about to spend the rest of their lives together, that someone's just become a man/woman, that someone's got a new house, whatever the occasion is. Celebrate.

"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing."

-Agatha Christie