Happy Birthday to this site
I didn’t realise the website was a year old until writing this roast.
My God, that’s one whole year of opinionated crap, Titanic film jokes and people with bad teeth from the Jeremy Kyle show.
I do have to say though, all the best to Jeremy in his battle against cancer. Let’s face it, without that show I’d have had far fewer visitors in the past year. Still, I am sticking to my New Year promise of no more poking fun at the dentally challenged from the show. However, even into February, it still remains the number one search engine term used to bring traffic to me.
Jeremy Kyle, Jeremy Kyle teeth, Jeremy Kyle bad teeth and even … Ugly people with teeth on Jeremy Kyle.
Get better soon, Jezza … as they say in the Black Country.
And talking of the Black Country …
Yes, that is where I come from. A right old run-down area in the Midlands which is called the Black Country because of the coal seam most of the land lies upon.
I know over the past year, I have taken several (modest estimation here) swipes at my local town, Walsall for being depressed and going to pot. Well, this has taken years of hard work by local businesses and the council to achieve and I was treated on Friday to a taste of what Walsall has been aspiring to in all this time – neighbouring West Bromwich.
Once a nice little shopping centre, for years West Bromwich has been nothing more than tatty pound-shops, tacky market stalls and empty premises. It is, basically – a hole.
Well, undeterred, Walsall saw West Bromwich as a shining light and have tried, with much success, to emulate it.
As I say, on Friday, I had the delight of going to West Bromwich and found nothing had changed since my last visit. You still feel as if you need to wash your hands on the way out and I did wonder if my car would be there when I returned to it. It was, thankfully, intact. I saw it in the distance as I listened to the piped music in the car park. Then I stopped. Puzzled. Music in the bloody car park … why?
Apologies for the picture, I have a rubbish camera on my phone.
Anyway, I approached my car and saw the speaker. It was blasting Karma Chameleon, distorted at full volume above the bonnet my Ford Focus. Can anybody offer an explanation? I don’t go to West Bromwich very much for a number of reasons but certainly not to listen to music in a filthy car park. I’m much too concerned with getting back to my vehicle before I get mugged.
Still, even though I had to spend two hours there, at 80p to park, it was good value … and at least my car was kept entertained by the music. Stopped it from getting bored.
And still in the suburb of West Bromwich …
West Bromwich Albion is actually the team I support. All my life I’ve had to suffer ridicule and abuse because basically, we’ve been shit. But no more. For the past couple of years, not a bad little team has been assembled at the Hawthorns and for the first time in over 30 years, they can lay claim to be the top team in the region.
With this in mind, you’d think players would be clamouring to be at the club. Not so, Peter Odemwinge.
The want-away striker hoped to further his career by engineering a deadline-day move to … er, bottom of the table, Queens Park Rangers. He says it was ambition and nothing to do with the huge salary on offer. Anyway, refused permission by his club, he took it upon himself to drive down to London and force his way through the door. He was, quite rightly, refused.
Cue the eggs, see the target.
Peter Odemwinge with egg on his face.
Therefore, poor old Peter had to drive back home with his tail between his legs, knowing he has to face his team mates … and the fans, who all know he has stuck two-fingers up at a club who took him in and turned his career around. Good on West Brom for not bowing to him and any other overpaid Charlie.
As for Queens Park Rangers … That name should have an apostrophe in it. Queen’s. It was named after Queen’s Park, not a collective group of queens who happened to have a picnic in the park one day.
The latest thing for Twits to play with.
Mobile phone app, Vine, lets you share six-second video clips on Twitter, apparently.
Six seconds! I wonder if it’s going to be like You Tube? Six seconds of crap video after having to watch a thirty second advertisement.
And the worry by watchdogs is that it will be simply used to spread porn and people will be posting clips of themselves having sex.
Come on … six seconds! Who in this country really only lasts six seconds having sex, apart from those living in … (Last piece edited out when I realised I know somebody who lives there).
You have just been Captcha’d.
As I have been saying, it is the first anniversary of starting on WordPress. I think I made the right choice in defecting from the now useless, Myspace, but do you want to know the real reason I chose WordPress, and not Blogger?
This …
Yes, those bloody irritating Captcha requests.
Don’t you just find them tedious? You can imagine the smarmy voice. ‘Please prove to us you’re not a robot.’
Arrrgghhh! Fuck off! I mean, what the hell is the one above supposed to be? Eatywipt3 or something. What the bloody hell is an eatywipt? They’re just making it up.
Then there’s this one:
What? For f….’s sake! So now you people who use Blogger and read me, know why it is I don’t often reciprocate and comment back. I’d love to but I can’t bloody do so without a degree in Mensa and a liking for doing the cryptic crossword. I mean, what do you think that second one is? Sort of, er … Drainpipe, wall of housey ntcyone. It makes no blooming sense.
There, rant over. Mind you, I suppose I could introduce it myself. How about this one to type in before making a comment?
Yes, childish, I know. But wouldn’t it be funny to get everybody to type that Iain Duncan Smith is one?
Cheers.
Nick
