McSon of a…

Ah McDonalds, where the shambling, soulless oiks who failed the intelligence test required to be algae serve up barely edible cardboard in the name of capitalism.

And yet, we keep going back?

Today, a startingly moronic individual handed me my “meal” with that oh so familiar vacant expression and a grunt of “thereyago”, I retired to the torture device they pass as a seat and prepared myself for the veritable feast which awaited.

I chose the large Big Mac meal, as follows…

Big Mac – Lukewarm, dry, all the flavour of a week dead rodent

Fries – Fried what? No potato has ever tasted like this!

Orange Juice – Because as is so often the case, one of the worker-orcs had jammed his hand into the machinery or some other foolishness and the fizzy beverage dispenser was still clogged with unspeakable lumps

Mmm. Delectable.

But what’s this, what’s happening, could it be? IT IS!

A British man has complained!

Oh yes folks, I complained.
I wasn’t foolish enough to do it to the face of someone who could quite conceivably cast a hex on me, but I contacted them via e-mail and eagerly await the results!

And why this time, why not one of the hundred other occasions on which I was dissatisfied with their service?

Simple, I needed material for the blog.

Al out net-heads.

We're all the same apparently.

According to certain religions (and we won’t be going into this too heavily because quite frankly religion angers me) man was created first and then the Big Beard in the Sky knocked up woman out of spare parts ’cause we were lonely.

One would assume that, had Adam not have been whining on about having no-one to talk to, God would have made other arrangements with regards to breeding and such and woman would never have come to be.

Sometimes, just sometimes, you kinda wish Adam hadn’t have shot his mouth off.

Don’t get me wrong, I like-a the ladies, but given the constant torrent of “man bashing” on Facebook of late I felt that it was our turn.

So much utter tripe is spewed by the female of the species that I felt it was time to address some of their most pressing concerns.


Would it be fair to say that when looking around a bar or club, your eye is inexorably drawn to pretty girls? Yes

Does everyone have different ideas as to what is in fact attractive, the old beauty, eye, beholder bit? Yes

Doesn’t that negate the shallow part of the argument because at the end of the day different people are attracted to different physical types? Of course

Are men able to read a woman’s mind at the moment he glances at her and discern whether or not he would like to get to know her based on his Vulcan mind meld appraisal of her personality? No

Is the female argument here actually a load of old cobblers? Certainly


What women are trying to tell you here is that all men are lazy.
No, no we’re not.
I do plenty around the house, which means I am not lazy.
To fit into the generalisation, given that i’m not bone idle as theory suggest, I must therefore be a woman.
Having glanced down, my genitalia seem to be male and in full working order, so I think we’ve quelled that particular issue girls.
Not all men are lazy, if your partner is, get rid of him and find one who’ll cater to your every whim as you are secretly hoping or tell him to pull his finger out and help.
Either way, don’t tar us all with the same brush.


Only a woman could, without any trace of humour, complain about the fact that the person they are with finds them desirable and would like the opportunity to express that love through the act of intercourse, or “bumping uglies” for the less literate among you.

That being said, it’s not all we think about, there’s lots in our minds.
Let me give you a brief insight into my thought processes, we’ll take it from just after the kids head to bed and calm settles o’er the house:

“Hmm, what to do tonight, watch a DVD? Play a little X-Box? Hey wasn’t that Doctor Who special on tonight? I could do with a snack. I’ll see if the missus fancies a cuppa that’d be nice. Bless her she looks tired. Maybe i’ll rub her feet. Hey if I do, she might have sex with me! Mmmm, sex”

You see, there was plenty of stuff in there which wasn’t about sex.
What you girls need to be saying is “OMG THEY THINK ABOUT ALL SORTS, IT JUST ALWAYS ENDS UP AT SEX!!!”
And then you need to shut up complaining about it because the fact that we want to have sex with you means we find you attractive which is a good thing, although I expect we’re just being shallow.

I have more, but I think i’ll settle in to watch the hate (fe)mail roll on in.

Love you girls.

May cause laughter…

For a while now I’ve been taking some fairly strong painkillers for a problem with my ankle joints.

Don’t worry, I’m not angling for sympathy, although I will accept charity and will provide an address to send cheques to upon request, but I digress.

The point is, while fetching my dose earlier, I decided to take a glance at the potential side effects.
I admit this is something which, sensibly, I should have already done, but in all fairness I now wish I hadn’t.
Dizziness, sure, drowsiness, understandable, violent diarrhoea, of cou…hang about!

I understand that they have to list all possible side effects but it does give you pause.
I am currently taking medication to ease pain which may result in explosive defecation, vomiting, hallucinations and eventual death.

I can imagine the conversation if the doctor had mentioned any of this when he prescribed them…

Al: “So doc, these pills will sort out the pain and I should be hunky dory?”

Doc: “Certainly, I’ll see you again in two weeks to find out how you’re getting on. Was there anything else?”

Al: “No think that’s it, any side effects I should know about?”

Doc: “Not really, you might feel a little drowsy or dizzy, certainly avoid alcohol while taking them”

Al: “Fair enough, that all?”

Doc: “Well, no it’s nothing to worry about”

Al: “No, go on Doc”

Doc: “There’s a very slim chance that, and do please bear in mind that this almost never happens, but there’s a possibility that you might go completely insane, see lights in the sky and gibber insanely before experiencing diarrhoea so intense that your organs will leave your body due to the pressure.”

Al: “Ah”

Doc: “Yes, all of that will, of course, kill you. But I would imagine death would be a welcome release at that stage”

Al: “Hmm, so all things considered, you still recommend these pills?”

Doc: “Absolutely, as I said, it’s a slim chance”

Al: “Fair enough. Before I go I wonder if I could tempt you to stare down the barrel of this shotgun. Nothing to worry about although there is a slim chance that it’s loaded…”

Still, sure it will all go swimmingly.

Snow Day

Over the past few days I found myself become increasingly irritated by the mass of posts to Facebook and Twitter, all saying essentially the same thing.
Sweet, weeping Jesus people!
Ok, so meteorology is just guesswork with a fancy name, but nevertheless, they forecast snow, all you had to do was wait to see if it did in fact happen.

Of course, the moment snow was forecast, the panic began.
January 5th, the day before half of Britain disappeared under a blanket of white, we nipped to Tesco for a few odds and ends.
Huge mistake…
Never before have I seen an elderly woman bulk buying kitty litter with such an expression of mortal dread.
I can only assume cat’s defecate more when it’s cold?
Granted, considering the weather warnings, picking up essentials before the snow hit was in fact a sensible plan.
This does not mean that I expect to be horribly trampled in the rush for the last few boxes of Sugar Puffs.

Having returned from the riot, beaten and bruised, we settled in to await the coming of the dreaded snow.
In a truly astonishing turn of events, the Met Office was proven right for once and we awoke on January 6th to find ourselves snowed in, trapped with no hope of escape.
I could not have been happier at that moment.
An unquestionable excuse to avoid the outside world? Heaven.

My joy was shortlived however, when I logged on to Facebook.
Yes. It snowed. Thank you for the update.

Having said all of that, who doesn’t love the snow?
Staring out over a crisp blanket of white, snowball fights, zooming down the hills on a bright red sledge and, best of all, building a snowman.
I love to see children at play, rolling huge balls of snow down hills to build the biggest snowman possible, slapping a hat on his head and popping on a carrot for the nose, seeing the horrified expressions on their little faces as I arrive with my flamethrower…

Have fun in the snow folks

Al out.

These are dark times…

And so it came to pass, the great evil which was foreteld settled o’er the land and there was a great screaming and gnashing of teeth and blah blah blah.

I refer, of course, to the return of “Celebrity” Big Brother to our screens.
I think we could potentially sue Channel 4 for false advertising on this one folks.

Let’s take a look at the so called celebrities who are sealed into the Big Brother house (which, regrettably, is not being pumped full of a deadly nerve agent) this year shall we?

1. Vinnie Jones

Ok, i’ll let you off on this one.
Vinnie Jones, former footballer, been in some pretty good films starring alongside some big names, can’t fault you too much on that.
Plus, he’s a big guy, with any luck he’ll snap under the pressure and beat the living crap out of the others.

2. Stephen Baldwin

Ah, a Baldwin, but not one of the good ones.
Go on, name one film he was in, just one!

3. Stephanie Beacham

Pretty well known in her day but it’s not going to be too much longer until she’s shipped off to the television graveyard that is Last Of The Summer Wine and then it’s all over for her.

4. Alex Reid

Seriously though, he’s a sub par MMA fighter from what i’ve gathered who is currently experiencing fifteen minutes of fame and a burning, itchy sensation as a result of sleeping with Katie “Jordan” Price.

5. Lady Sovereign

One of a handful of white, female MC’s, probably the best known of the bunch which puts her on a “Fame-o-meter” par with the girl who cuts Eamonn Holmes’ hair.

6. Nicola Tappenden

Page 3 model, i’m going to guess that not even someone who has seen her unimpressive form gracing the third page of Britains favourite piece of tabloid trash could of told you who she was.

7. Jonas Altberg

Anyone? No? It’s Basshunter.
Perpetrator of a few god awful dance tracks and yet another dodgy celebrity sex tape, so i’m told…

8. Heidi Fleiss

So we’re down to recruiting former prostitutes?
You should get hold of Two Ton Tina from my old stomping grounds, she’d liven it up a bit! So i’m told…

9. Sisqo

The man who went into hiding after receiving over six hundred thousand death threats following the release of “Thong Song”, all of them from me.
And now we know where to find him…

10. Dane Bowers

He made some dreadful music and then had sex with Katie Price on film.
That’s about it, but at least Alex Reid will have someone to compare rashes with.

11. Ekaterina Ivanova

I assumed from the images I found on Google that she was a world renowned necrophiliac, upon closer inspection it would seem she’s sleeping with Ronnie Wood.

Seriously, this is the best you could do?

I noticed that Celebrity Big Brother is sponsored by bed supplier Dreams, it would seem even the makers of the show realise everyone would rather be sleeping than watching this debacle.