Category Archives: bullshit

Happiness


Yes, today we should all be happy because the UN has decreed it. To me the fact that the UN even had the time to set up this shit demonstrates just what an ineffective talking shop it is…

Founded June 28, 2012 The International Day of Happiness Resolution 66/281 was the result of the effort of United Nations adviser Jayme Illien, who conceptualized the idea for a U.N. Resolution that would recognize the pursuit of happiness as a human right and a “fundamental human goal.”

Apparently the UN resolution marks a new historical milestone in humankind’s ultimate quest for happiness, which dates back to the time of ancient sages and philosophers such as Bhudda, Socrates, Confucius, Aristotle, Plato, Epicurus, Mencius, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, and religious figures like Jesus, Abraham, Moses, and the prophet Muhammad – all of whom theorized about the purpose and meaning of life, the definition of happiness, and how to achieve it. Mind you, they all had fuck all else to do – a bit like the UN!

Well, here’s the Dioclese philosophy on happiness : you can’t enforce it and you can’t talk it up. Life is shit and you just have to get on with it.

And every time somebody says ‘happiness’ to me I think ‘Ken fucking Dodd’ and depression sets in immediately…

Gobshite for England

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A Smalltown Man post…

Here in Smalltown we’re very proud of our heritage. Oh, yes! Nobody is quite as proud of their heritage as us…

And that’s why we’re waging a campaign to unseat St George as the patron saint of England and replace him with our very own St Gobshite. So why do we feel so strongly about this? Well, the legend of Gobshite tells it’s own story.

Back in medieval times, Flatland was ruled over by the mighty King Flaxen of the Tiptonites who supressed the people with an iron hand whilst keeping the other for feeding his face and fondling the serving wenches. Gobshite, the rightful King of Flatland, raised an army to throw off the yoke of oppression. Around 823 – or just after breakfast – Gobshite’s army joined into battle with the Tiptonites, but despite superior numbers they reckoned without the state of the art weapon of the day, the mighty Tipton longbow – and they were put to flight.

King Gobshite having a really shit day...

King Gobshite having a really shit day…

Flaxen pursued Gobshite and captured him. He was unceremoniously tied to a tree and executed by Flaxen’s archers. Legend has it that Flaxen’s pet wolf, Eingar, stole Flaxen’s golden crown, placed it beside the martyred Gobshite’s body and stood vigil until his people retrieved the body and incarcerated it here in Smalltown.

So moved was Flaxen at this miracle that, after slaying and eating the wolf, he converted to Christianity, handed power back to the Flatlanders and retired to live a pious life of poverty in a simple mud hut in Northland where he remained until his dying day.

Gobshite was later canonised by Pope Pompous II around 1155 or just before lunch. Ironically Flaxen was posthumously awarded the Kings Award for services to Archery.

Clearly, the unbelievable story of St George and the nonexistent Dragon cannot be taken seriously so we believe that the rightful King Gobshite of Flatland, first King of England and Christian martyr must take it’s rightful place. Oh yes, we do!

And did I mention that we’re very proud of our heritage here in Smalltown?

Pontification

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What is it about so called ‘celebrities’ that they feel they have the right to talk down to the rest of the world as if they are some kind of degenerate mental pigmies? Why do they feel that they are so damned important and that only they know what is right and everybody else is just plain wrong? It makes me just plain angry…

We saw the latest example at the BAFTAs this week when has been, not very good film luvvie Ken Loach saw fit to proclaim that the “most vulnerable and poorest people are treated by this government with a callous brutality that is disgraceful. It’s a brutality that extends to keeping refugee children out that we promised to help. And that’s a disgrace too” he said.

Well, fuck you Ken because as far as I can recall you’ve not been opening up your unused bedrooms to house them so it’s alright for us to be inundated with with the flotsom and jetsom of the middle east just as long as you don’t have to have them anywhere near you.

And here’s some another gem from Loach : “In that real world it’s getting darker as we know. In the struggle that’s coming between the rich and the powerful, the wealth and the privilege, and the big corporations and the politicians that speak for them, on the one hand, and the rest of us on the other, the film makers know which side they are on.” Certainly do, Ken. You’re one of the rich and the powerful, the wealth and the privilege that’s speaking for us! Does this guy actually realise just how bloody stupid he sounds? I doubt it.

And, of course, arch luvvie Stephen Fry had to join in as well referring to President Trump’s furious description of Meryl Streep as “overrated” after she hit out at him during a Golden Globe speech, Fry said: “One of the greatest actresses of all time — only a blithering idiot would think otherwise — Meryl Streep. I would say underrated if I’m honest.” Well, you’re entitled to your opinion Mr Fry as I am mine. My opinion is that all three of you should stop abusing your platform to spout your political claptrap because, quite frankly, nobody really gives a flying fuck what you think!

And while we’re on the subject of two faced steaming hypocrite celebrities, what happened to all those ‘famous’ people who said they’d leave the country if we voted for Brexit? Still here, aren’t they! Just like all the other steaming hypocrite celebrities the other side of the Atlantic who said they’d leave if Trump became President.

Here’s a thought tho’ – maybe they all left after Brexit and came back after Trump? Just wondering…

Sorry! I just don’t get it…

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This morning we went for a walk along the Funchal sea front to investigate the far end of town. We’ve been in Madeira a few times but never ventured up there, so why not?

When our luxury trip to the Gambia went tits up, I considered a week in Reids. It’s supposed to be one of the world’s best hotels after all – so if it’s luxury you’re after, that should be a place you can find it. I have to say I’m glad we didn’t bother. The photos in the brochure look great but they don’t show the modern block of rooms in front of the old building. Kinda kills the old world charm angle for me.

Reids is, of course, now owned by Belmond who seem intent in cornering the ‘famous hotels’ market. I’ve been to the Residencia in Deya and their hotel by the amphitheatre in Taormina. In both cases I have to say I could smell the bullshit way before I even walked through the door. They’re not for me!

But I digress. Back to the point – which is why the fuck do people run marathons? You put yourself through hell just to run around in a circle for 26 miles. Why? It’s totally pointless, fucks your body, shortens your life and buggers your knee joints. For what exactly? So you can prove something to yourself apparently…

Well, I can prove something to myself by not running a marathon. I can prove that I’ve got better things to do with my life. Like I said, I just don’t get it…

…or Belmond hotels either come to that!

Fuck you, Asda!

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I used to like Asda for wine. They sold my favourite white at an excellent price and I’d go down there regularly for 6 or more bottles. But not any more because they’ve blown it…

I went down there and bought 6 bottles for £6.00 each. No bother. I went to the till and paid. Then before I left the store I thought “That doesn’t sound right?” and it wasn’t. They charged me £6.98 a bottle instead – so I went to the cashier and queried it. A girl went to the shelf with me and there it was : £6 a bottle so I said I’d been overcharged so gimme my six odd quids back.

“Can’t do that” she says. “Not able to do that on the tills. You either accept the £7 or we’ll give you your money back.” I’m a reasonable bloke. Not her fault. “Manager” says I. “Now please” and out comes some spotty faced kid who is apparently the manager of the wine department. “I’ll check the price” says he and buggers off. Five minutes later, back he comes and declares that the price I’ve been charged is correct and the price shown on the shelf is wrong. Again I’m told accept it or take a full refund. FFS!

“Store manager” says I. “Now please.” “Not available” I’m told. How convenient. “Here’s a solution” I suggest. “Just give me a gratis bottle so I have 7 at effectively £6 instead of 6 at £7.” Seems reasonable. It’s called customer service.

“Can’t do that” says he. “Messes up me stock control.” FFS again! “So” says I holding out a bottle at arms length, “what happens if I drop this and it smashes. How does your stock control handle that?” “That’s shrinkage” says he. “These things happen!” “So let’s pretend it happened this time and we can all go away happy?”

“Can’t do that” says he. FFS! FFS! I’m starting to lose it now! “So” I continues, “do you never have any wine stolen from your store that makes your figure wrong?” “That’s shrinkage” says he. I’m getting bloody nowhere and beginning to think that the major shrinkage is in this idiot’s brain cavity?…

“But it’s £6 on your website” says I, “and it’s click and collect. So if I put these 6 bottles back on the shelf and then go on line and order 6 bottles off your website, I get the same physical bottles from the same shelf in the same store for £6! What’s the problem.”

“That’s OK” says the moron. “The prices on the website aren’t necessarily the prices in the store.” “But it’s the self same actual physical bottles FFS!” “Yes, but you bought them on line not in the store – you just collected them from the store.”

So I’m marched down to the customer services desk where I’m ignored for around 15 minutes due to the queue of similarly pissed off customers, they refund my money and I piss off home without any wine.

What a bunch of fucking idiots…