nostalgic

In keeping with the assumption that everyone, to a degree, is mentally unstable in some form or another, yesterday I got the bus back home to Waterloo to buy a guitar lead, a new set of strings and some picks. The fact that I can barely play three chords on my SG is besides the point. It's not very often I give my beautiful guitar some much-needed TLC.

The music shop I went to is a stone's throw away from where I grew up, and the premises has seen past occupiers such as Thresher's Wines Stores, and long, long ago, a Tesco. And those small memories took me on a detour along St.Johns Road, which is Waterloo's second main shopping area behind South Road.

Everywhere evolves or changes over time, and not necessarily for the better. In St. Johns Road's case, I recognised just four businesses I knew from when I was a kid. And if it wasn't boarded up, the rest made no sense to me at all and neither tempted me to, at the very least, window-shop either.

I now know why our parents and grandparents are nostalgic for their pasts. And being from Liverpool, with that Celtic streak, we have an extra sense of sentimentality about everything too, which I possess in droves. There's a little kid inside me that still just wants to kick a footy against St.Faiths Church wall. I used to do it for hours on end. I didn't need a friend to play with. The ball bounced back from the wall. The wall was my mate!

I toy with the idea of doing an essay based on my experiences as a kid in Waterloo - because my memory improves over time when I think back to these halcyon days. But then I thought who'd want to read about fighting, football, paper-rounds, stand-offs, getting chased by the police, football, more fighting, football, evading more police, sitting in watching telly and listening to the odd good ELO album. School was crap, and I don't want to relive that very much thanks.

I got a 53A bus back to Aintree. It was double-deck, so I went upstairs and sat on one of the front seats watching out for....changes. Crosby, in comparison, never really changes. I've always said about Crosby that it's basically one big housing estate that people come to live in (because it's something to tell their family the other side of the city that they live in Crosby) and work elsewhere. The average Crosby householder probably couldn't tell you what the next street is to them, and the shopping centre of the town is dangerously under-utilised and empty. Again, the average Crosby dweller shops elsewhere.

So I don't go and visit home too often now, because the ghosts far outnumber present-day reality. It was a bit sad really.

wasted

Nowadays, I very rarely pay for the films I like to watch, the telly programmes that make me laugh and, most importantly, the music I groove along to.

I appreciate that the artists involved in all of our entertainment have a living to make, and some need it more than others. But I'm sorry, I've spent thousands of pounds of the last thirty odd years buying records, tapes, CDs, videos, DVDs, etc and I simply refuse to offer the industry any more of my hard earned cash.

For instance, and this is the obvious one, I bought Beatles albums when I was ten. They were perfectly playable, serviceable and the music they provided made me very happy, inspired and fulfilled. In 1987, the Beatles catalogue went onto the digital format for the first time in the form of CDs. Again, I bought most of them because I now had a CD player and I was under the impression that the sound quality - coupled with my improved sound system - surpassed crackly, jumpy, old analogue vinyl. And, I guess, in a lot of ways they did.

In 2009, the Beatles did it again - this time remastering all their old albums for a second time claiming a better audio experience than before. I thought, "haha, you can sod off!" and downloaded them illegally to listen to what all the fuss was about. And the truth, for an audiophile like me, was nothing seemed any different. In fact, there were still the same sequencing mistakes on some tracks from the 1987 reissues.

Like some people, I've come full-circle and gone back to the original vinyl, and I beat myself with an imaginary large bat for the money I've wasted. Some lessons take longer to learn than others.

redundancy

One major thing the blog has missed in the past few months is the fact I got made unemployed again. Yep, the nuts and bolt trade went tits up and I found myself back at square one. It wasn't entirely unexpected. I played my part in its' inception and downfall, so at the very least I'm a kind of visionary or twat. Take your pick.

But needs must, so I quickly sorted myself out with some agency work - order picking beer and spirits for DHL Tradeteam in Kirkby. This involved a 6am start in a vast, freezing warehouse, but I didn't stay cold for long - the work was heavy, fast-paced and relentless.

I'm no stranger to grafting, but this was another level. For the first time in my 44 years, I was acutely aware of my age and fitness level because the lads I worked with were a lot younger than me and there wasn't a bulging waistline amongst any of them. For a fortnight I slogged away - the early discomfort soon died down but didn't disappear - until one afternoon I received a phone call from a college near Ormskirk that I'd applied for a portering job with, asking if I'd come in? The pay was better, the hours more regular and the work was varied. So I started the next day. And I've been there ever since.

The only downside to it is I'm employed on a casual-basis for three months at a time. That means that I'm there as long as they think I'm needed. When I started it was in the rundown to Christmas when all the students go home, so it got very quiet by the beginning of this week, but the New Year brings the college back to pace and I'm assured things can and do get hectic.

My redundancy is being looked after by the good folk at the State-backed Insolvency Service. The first form I received to claim redundancy got lost, but the second one did get through. The delay hasn't helped with Christmas. Me and Jayne got everyone sorted except ourselves. Hopefully, they'll be a windfall very soon and we can treat each other to stuff.

I could write a book about the good and bad working in the fastener trade. If truth be told, I'd still like to be in it because I did enjoy it. But sometimes, you know, maybe out of this comes something better and a change may do me some good. Time, as always, will tell.

conundrums

1.30am......

So there I am, in that twilight world between sleep and awareness. And then I was bolt upright!!

The next three hours were taken up by being very awake, very aware of the shadows of night, and totally in tune with the metaphysical side of being. And the big question I had was this. Christianity tells us that the only way to have a relationship with God is through Jesus.

Now I'm just a mere mortal, and I know shite. But if the Christian faith is as good as it says it is then it should stand up to a little questioning. Why can't I have a direct line through to God? If God is all He is said to be and everything is possible, why do I have to go through an intermediary?

I'm not suggesting that Jesus is any less important than Christians tell us he is. But it's a little like asking me to form a relationship with Jayne's brother to get to speak with her dad?? I went straight to the main man there, why not with the main man up there?????

And another thing. The whole basis for religion is having faith in something or someone bigger than yourself. Yet, every minor to major religion has distorted this realisation by various ways and means for thousands of years. For what end? Because all that's happened is humanity is shit to each other, when the simplest reality is we all want the same thing.

After I'd wrestled with this two massive conundrums, I promptly went to sleep. Bliss.......

challenging

The past few weeks have been challenging to say the least. We had a really fun barbecue in the back garden with a bouncy castle et al, redecorated our bedroom which now looks pretty cool, had a great night out at a Holiday Inn with a swimming pool / spa in Chester. But the good stuff, invariably, was countered by the bad.

Jayne's Uncle Mike lost his battle against cancer on Monday morning. He was being cared for a local hospice. You couldn't make it up but in the next room was Jayne's mate from work, Liz, whose husband, Lee, six hours earlier succumbed to cancer too.

It was just the most bizarre night. Their passings highlight both the strength and frailty of humanity. Lee and Mike were dignified and resilient right to the end, when then the only absolute in life cruelly takes them away.

I've always said that you can't really do much for the dead. You have to concentrate on the here and now.

It's inevitable that one questions their own mortality at times like this. I am at an age where I've passed the half-way stage for life expectancy on these hallowed shores. And whilst it's possible I may be here in another sixty years time, it's certainly not a given. Nor do I really envisage myself at 103!!!

My Dad was diagnosed with cancer when he was 46, and departed this reality when he was 47. I'm 44 in two months' time, and things like that play on your mind.

Have I done enough to justify my existence here? No, not very much. Not that I'm a wimp, I just always preferred the quieter life. I've screamed from the rooftops once or twice since birth, but generally other people have far more success at it than me.

What has toughened up is the bond between myself and Jayne. We have our moments - neither of us take much credit in them - and we probably always will. Her strength of character during these times is an inspiration to us all. I didn't really understand the closeness of her family until these dark days, and I wonder if anything happened between me, Mum and Mick would we be as united? Then I realise we were when Dad died, and all the pisstaking, wind-ups and terrible jokes are just illusion. 

We get on!

people

Two people who have really pissed me off in recent days. The first is Brendan Rodgers.

Now, I really don't know what folk see in this bloke, and I accept the possibility that I may be reading into things far too much, but I don't think I am, but he cost Liverpool Football Club the League title.

His devil-may-care approach to matches can be seen as refreshing. I call it reckless. When you have an opponent on the ropes then go in for the kill, but not from the start when your adversary hasn't been sized up.

Against Chelsea, a point would've done. There was absolutely no need for the entire team to camp in their half, taking pot shots at Cech. Rodgers should've realised this and settled back for a bit of keep ball at the back. Instead, two costly errors cost us the game, and the title, there and then.

Palace away. Similar problem. Difference being we'd gone a couple of goals up, but this nagging thing in Rodgers' head about our inferior goal difference to City wouldn't go away. Instead, he urges his side to keep the pressure on, which leaves lots of space, AGAIN, at the back which a hungry Crystal Palace capitalised on. 

The logic goes had a point been gained from Chelsea, a comfortable win against Palace secured which meant an easy victory against Newcastle on the final day. Champions. Should've been so, so simple. It's not even hindsight, it's just pure common sense.

Wasn't to be. Congratulations to Manchester City. They didn't lose their heads.

And what do the board do for Brendan Rodgers? That's right, they offer him a new six-year deal for snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory. And he's named the LMA Manager of the Year too! The world's gone mad.

Felt gutted for Steven Gerrard. I've always been his biggest critic, but he's given everything this season, and won't get a better chance at completing his medal collection ever again. Luis Suarez ran himself into the ground. What an excellent season he's had and plaudits he's received are richly deserved. He was sobbing his eyes out because he knows it's all been for very little. It's a shame some of their lesser team-mates don't feel the same.

The second person who's done me in is this chump. Marcus Bleasdale, the Conservative candidate for Aintree in the upcoming council elections.
 

Now I'm slightly fortunate that I don't live in the ward young master Bleasdale is standing in. But the pure audacity of his paraphernalia is obsence. I think you'll find Aintree was there long before the Bleasdales were, and will be there long after they've gone.

Marcus Bleasdale, and his ancestors, are landlords - pure and simple. And if you know landlords they take lots off you, sit on their arses,  and give very little back. I checked up on some of his business activities and it's all property development and business start-up. All well and good, but it's doubtful he'd have made it on his own without the clout of his family.

The fact that he's put these posters on the faces of buildings he owns is another good reason not to trust this person. I've heard his rents are rather high, and he's not particularly well liked either. But that's heresay, so what do I know?

Anyway, I've had a good rant today. It doesn't take much to get me going does it. One day I may actually smile!! Stay tuned!

jury

I didn't really want to say anything, because nobody understands me, but I've been selected to do jury service.

A more contemptuous thing I've never done before or since.

I really shouldn't have  replied to the letter they send. The fun thing is I could have just claimed I didn't receive it, put it with the rest of my unopened mail and told no bugger. When they came looking for me, I could've just said, "dunno what you're on about?" Their literature isn't recorded delivery. It's sent by TNT Post who aren't exactly bursting with plaudits in the little time they've been operating around people's postboxes.

So it's my own fault. I went up to the courts in town last week to see what happens. Anyone can enter the Public Gallery to any case, so I sat in on an assault charge. I appreciate that I only heard the defendant's last couple of minutes on the stand, the judge's summing up and the defence and prosecution's closing statements, but I thought this bloke was guilty based on what I heard. Jury comes back in, headed by a "child" who's probably never been in, let alone seen, a street fight before and find this bloke not guilty.

I found it incredible the whole jury was in total agreement. I sensed the judge was urging them to a not-guilty verdict, but even so.

My worry for me is I will go in there, if picked, and be awkward because there's nothing I like more than going against the grain. I would be quite happy yawning or scratching my bum all day. "Civic duty" - what a joke. Fundamentally, I'm just not interested and no matter what goes on I will take it with a pinch of salt and apply the same sorry attitude to a defendant who deserves better. 

Things are moving completely out of my control, and the morals and beliefs I've tried to uphold throughout my life are slowly being eroded away by circumstance. Again, it's my fault for not walking the talk, and I wish dearly wish my Dad were here......

contemplate

Because I'm generally obnoxious and spiteful to all things that don't make sense, here's my critque of "The North West Bus Blog" - run by people who really should be in mental institutions at worst, or in a padded cell at best. The bravado of these "children" is quite astonishing - they'll probably be running the country in ten years time! Anyway, here's their introduction and my snideful shite...

The blog posts at The North West Bus Blog are of an enthusiast based nature. The blog is run and maintained by enthusiasts for the benefit of like-minded enthusiasts, people who are passionate about buses and the current bus scene in the North West of England and North Wales.


"Enthusiasts" really doesn't do these people any favours. They're deranged sociopaths who's best shot of life is to sip happy juice in a quiet room for the rest of their days.

We are dedicated to provide quality up to date blog posts located in one easy to read place. We don't measure success by the amount of noise we make, we believe quality posts that are bursting with relevant information and photographs are, by far, more interesting than a load of drivel no one wishes to read about.



Take note that the majority of "information" they provide is based purely on speculation and rumour derived solely from another website / forum where most of these enthusiasts post on. "Quality" - my hairy Scouse arse.

Our blog posts are primarily focused on the current bus scene in the two large conurbations of Merseyside and Greater Manchester, with feature posts from elsewhere in the United Kingdom. It was originally started in 2009 by Tom Harrison as The Merseyside Bus Blog, readership numbers substantially grew within the first year of posting bus related sightings, news and other related posts.



The readership grew because Tom, the brains behind the operation, got weak-minded social outcast teenage boys, who with nothing better to do than contemplate their belly-buttons, to do most of the legwork while he pulled in the plaudits.

With that Tom decided that after a year of running the blog, it called for some much needed improvements, included the addition of social media pages as well as a new broader title for a wider audience, and not forgetting the introduction of contributing team members.



"Team members" - this isn't a branch of McDonalds???

The North West Bus Blog's second birthday was celebrated by members of the team in Chester in December 2013, we chose Chester as an easily accessible location for many of our members. We celebrated in an English-derived style with Chocolate Cake, Potato Crisps and a good old cuppa as well as a general chit chat about the local bus scene.

Tom chose Chester because it's near to where he lives, and it was up to his philanthropist-chums to make their own way to wherever Tom told them to be. Tom ate all the Chocolate Cake before anyone else got there, and left half a bag of Walkers Worcester Sauce flavoured crisps for the rest of the devotees to scramble over. 

So there we have it. Go see their website at your own peril, and contemplate the world we are leaving these people to take care of...........

troublemaker

It's estimated that over 60% of employers will scan through social media, such as Facebook, when considering potential employees.

Which is their want I suppose? I guess there's a method to checking that your new work "colleague" is as  normal as they were during their interview.

In my case, here's a quick in-depth glimpse into my inner-psyche.......

"I AM AN UNRECONSTRUCTED SOCIALIST. IT IS VERY LIKELY THAT MY FELLOW EMPLOYEES WILL SOON BE AWARE OF MY PARTICULARLY LEFT-WING POLITICAL VIEWS AND, FROM YOUR POINT OF VIEW, I WILL BE CONSIDERED A TROUBLEMAKER EVEN THOUGH I'LL  JUST GET ON WITH THINGS."

That telephone interview I had the other week came to nothing. The bloke basically asked the same questions that were published on the online application form, and I was buggered if I could remember what I'd written down. I was asked about my strengths and weaknesses. I hate that sort of question. I'm far too humble to say what I'm good at, and my "weaknesses" could probably fill a book. I told him that. Not my best move.  But I was only going for a job that I'm pretty much doing at the moment - it's not rocket science, you just need to be awake (most of the time!) and help the customer out to the best of your ability.

When I went for the interview for GB Fasteners back in 1996, I sat there for half-an-hour with Vince and we talked about each other's holidays. I got the job. What's changed in the meantime is quite frightening - the business is so fundamentally sales-focused nowadays. The human side is on its' last legs. Companies like Screwfix and Toolstation do the engineers' merchant trade a huge disservice. We take the time to try and get the customer the right screw for the job - we're experienced and if we can't help you, we  probably know someone who can.

These new companies are only interested in sell-sell-sell. You can't get specialist advice. Their catalogues are works of art, but tell you very little. I was in Screwfix one day, and a guy was asking a member of staff about an item. Staff member didn't have a clue - "it's all in the catalogue"  is their stock answer. And in my experience, Screwfix have very little on stock, it's all next-day.

Toolstation are slightly more up the evolutionary scale. I applied for a job with them once, and filled in every section of the application concisely with detail. There was piss-all I couldn't answer. Their answer was deafening - they didn't want to know. 

What's the point? Maybe I was TOO qualified, but the reality is I know next to nothing. It's just experience that comes in handy every once in a while. I don't even think about sales, it's just helping folk out.....

insulting

Yes, it's that time of year again when Aintree Racecourse opens its' doors to every wannabe, delusional person who thinks they look good.

And there's horse racing on too.

The thing is if folk want to dress up in their "best", go out and drink themselves senseless then who am I to argue? That's just a typical night out in Liverpool. Just without the telly cameras.

The real issue is the horses themselves. I find it completely abhorrent that these beautiful creatures are raced for profit. And the higher the stakes, the less the welfare of the animal is considered. I took Bella for a walk up to Fazakerley Sidings yesterday, and the path runs concurrent with the racecourse and the infamous "Beechers Brook" fence where so many horses have lost their lives over the years. Not the greatest feeling walking past, if anything I get a cold chill.

It's not unnatural for horses to want to run and jump in as suitable environment as possible. But using them as tools for financial gain is morally unjust and should be criminalised. End of. Our general attitude towards our fellow dwellers on this planet is downright insulting.

atmosphere

Has anyone watch "Live From Space" on Channel Four recently? Or the film "Gravity"?

The over-riding impression gained from these features is how fragile and guarded our atmosphere is from the ravages of space. The air we breath is, roughly, only available up to 12km above sea level before we start running into problems.

I've expended much energy trying to convince people that our petty political borders and economic barriers are not visible from space. It would be interesting to get Nigel Farage or that dickhead from the BNP, Griffin, into a spacecraft and ask them where things start and stop.

The more pressing problem is our biosphere may protect us from the vacuum of space, but it also keeps in all our pollution and crap. It'd be interesting to measure how much rubbish we actually breath in now. We're all hypocrites. Some of us like to expound how we need to keep greenhouse gasses to a minimum, yet get in our cars, or run every possible electric appliance in our homes.

There's a fine line between the Earth's natural balance and the garbage the human pumps into its delicate atmosphere. Stuff an alien invasion destroying the planet, we're doing a damned good job of it ourselves.

frightening

As a change to our regular Saturday night viewing, we watched "Life And Death Row" on BBC3. 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01tbfbg

It followed the lead-up to the execution of two convicted murderers in Texas - interviewing both their victims' families and own families.

This kind of television is a sobering lesson into the extremes of the human condition. The convicts were articulate, resigned to their fate but not necessarily remorseful for their actions. The outcome of the programme was that one guy was executed and the other was given a stay of execution pending a review of his trial.

I found the show utterly absorbing, yet frightening to watch.

I am against the death penalty. I believe taking the life of a convicted murderer makes the State (us who vote them in!) as bad as them. It's not an eye for an eye. That's simplistic bullshit. That's good ol'-fashioned Southern states crypto-bollocks, that only a backward judicial system in Texas can be.

Look at Moors Murderer, Ian Brady. He's been trying to do himself in for years now. I think he can't take it anymore because he's realised the horror of his actions. He lives with himself and his horrendous crimes each and every day. If he had been executed, we wouldn't have had the knowledge that this person is rightly suffering from an attack of conscience. It was the correct decision to keep him alive, and to continue to keep him and his ilk alive. Make him think of the consequences of his savagery.

Our understanding of death - beyond this world - is unknown, though there are plenty of suggestions of what may lie ahead. Maybe Brady will suffer an eternity of hell when he finally dies? Or death may just be a blackless void of nothingness? Who knows, but I guess one day we'll all find out.

poor

This blog generally doesn't have a policy of commenting on anything to do with Manchester United. But a cursory look at the trouble they're currently in is a little like deja vu. Because twenty years ago, Liverpool were in similar circumstances with a new Scottish manager who really didn't have a clue.

Yep, I know MUFC have won tonight against Olympiakos to progress in the year's European Cup. But the Greek side, though workmanlike and solid, aren't particularly great opposition, and again, a poor Liverpool side overturned a two goal lead against them on the way to our fifth European Cup  - you know, the real one that we keep forever!

United are a really poor shape, led by a manager who obviously hasn't commanded the respect of the players he's inherited from Ferguson. Same thing happened at Leeds in 1974, as champions then too, when Brian Clough took over for seven weeks.

Moyes hasn't garnered the same sort of revulsion in the present day. But a lot of us on Merseyside could tell our Manc friends that the Scot, to quote Monty Python, isn't the Messiah. His style of football verges on playing long balls - which Evertonians love. Not if you're used to getting results though.

Liverpool are at the other end of the spectrum this season. Things are going very well. Though, no matter what happens by the end of May, I will never be convinced by Brendan Rodgers. He must think he's been dipped in shit with a strike force like Sturridge and Suarez, yet it's a shame the defenders can't keep the goals out at the other end. If, and it's a very big IF, we go on and win the title this season it will be with a defence and goalkeeper who really aren't on the same wavelength. Not Mingolet's biggest fan either. And I've been calling for Martin Skrtel's resignation for years. Holding onto the title will be nigh on impossible. Reinforcements will be needed a.s.a.p!

celebrate

It's St.Patrick's Day once again.

I've made my feelings on the day when everyone not Irish celebrates being Irish well known through this blog. I can't be bothered putting a link to it, you'll have to find it yourselves!!

I really don't get it? Why isn't St.George's Day celebrated with the same veracity as "Paddy's Day"? We really are a weird country when it comes to what we like or not as the case may be. 

Being from Liverpool, I do feel the separate nature we have when compared to the rest of the country - we're not a very English city, the Celtic influence is just overwhelming. 

I've mellowed a lot to the fact that I'm English. The problems I had with crackpots like football hooliganism, the EDL, the BNP, UKIP, racism and "Little Englanders" in general is their problem - and not mine. And the fact that I can have a good time, while they cry, moan, bleat and fart is hugely satisfying.

So celebrate whatever day you want, but remember to give everyone a fair crack of the whip!

left-handed

There's been an absolutely ridiculous conversation on the radio this morning, claiming that left-handed people will suffer/ have suffered in their lives / careers as a result of being....well, left-handed!

I'm left-handed, and my failings in life are entirely my own misdoing, and not the machinations of the State or other people.

My Dad was left-handed too, but he could write with both. From what I can gather, I think he was forced to write with his right-hand as it was deemed improper not to back in the 1950s by educational people. Being left-handed didn't do him any harm. Or Paul McCartney. Or Jimi Hendrix.

The other side of the coin, I know right-handed people with abysmal handwriting who've done very well for themselves. It's all roundabouts and swings.

Just think - there's "experts" out there who have made an entire career peddling this left-handed / right-handed claptrap. Fair play, you've fooled some of them, but not all of us!!!

flat-lining

I went with Aaron to a bus rally in St.Helens today. I won't bore the reader too much with all the mundane details, but it was fairly crap, and I wondered why we went?

I'm flat-lining on my buses at the moment, in that I haven't much interest in them - either more or less.

It's me, obviously. I spent a bit of time last year helping out at the Merseyside Transport Trust, and what impressed me was members dedication to the cause, in ways I couldn't. I have responsibilities that mean I can't put in the time other people can. It did me in a little bit, but it also reaffirmed where my life lies - first and foremost Jayne, Aaron and Bethany.

Every Tuesday night, Jayne asks me do I want to go to "bus club" (that's what we call the MTT) and I don't. Usually, I'm too knackered to go, but the other reason is I really can't be arsed, and I have a much better time with my family.

My personal hobbies / interests, when I think about it, don't really involve other people, or interacting with other folk more so - they can all be done singularly. Maybe it's because I appreciate my free time to myself much more now, than before I became "family man" when I could please myself to be honest.

I've got various projects lined up. Garden requires urgent attention, and Jayne's always got a job up her sleeve for me!!!!!

Pillocks

Today, I had a slight mishap in a local branch of Tesco. I dropped a box of eggs on the floor. Egg yolk everywhere.

So a big "thank you" to my fellow customers who helped me clear up the mess. Not. They turned up their noses to my predicament, one bloke passed me and said, "shit happens, mate."

A young store assistant, bless her, brought out some wipes, and I helped her clear up my faux-pas. Now I'm not being wise after the event, but if that had happened to someone, I'd have offered to help. It's just in my nature, as a member of the human race, to help out another.

Sadly, so many of our compatriots are so wound-up in their own petty concerns and worlds, that they feel nothing for anyone but themselves. Just a simple little accident today, and they didn't want to know. I'd hate to see their reactions if anything bad ever happened. 

Pillocks.

watchable

A thoroughly deserved personal retrospective on one of the 60s much-maligned Beat groups - Manchester's own Freddie and the Dreamers.

Yes, they looked like bricklayers. And most of their music was lamer than the lamest lame thing in Lameland. 

And then there was singer Freddie Garrity. It's highly likely the the young Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop and David Lee Roth took notes of bespectacled Garrity's highly energetic and manic stage persona.

Paul McCartney later admitted that the Beatles decision to concentrate on writing and performing their own material was largely of a result of singer Freddie Garrity "stealing" the Beatles arrangement  of "If You Gotta Make A Fool Of Somebody", that the Dreamers made into a huge hit during 1963. There was a respect between the groups - the Beatles invited the Dreamers to support them on their Christmas UK tour in 1964, and rumours persist that Garrity was very close to being signed to Apple Records in 1968. 

Like a lot of the first-wave Beat groups, the hits dried up by 1966 and careers were extended by moving into the lucrative, but completely unfashionable, cabaret circuit. To a certain extent, the Dreamers fell into this "trap" but, aided by a high public profile in America, wisely moved into television work - hosting their own networked childrens' show on ITV called "Little Big Time" which lasted until the early 1970s. A regular segment of  "Little Big Time" was "Oliver In The Overworld" - which involved Garrity and bandmate Pete Birrell as his clock, Oliver, travelling to a land of machinery - much of this eventually took over the show and the band recorded a highly-collectable pysch-styled album of the same name.

I think Freddie and the boys deserve a lot more credit than they've been grudgingly permitted. There's millions of forgotten 60s groups who will remain forgotten, but Freddie and the Dreamers aren't one of them. Highly original, hugely entertaining and still, after half a century, compulsively watchable.

fascists

We sometimes do catering jobs to supplement our meagre income. We're called "Jayne's Catering". And, by and large, they're fun to do - bloody hard work, but mostly enjoyable.

We did one on Saturday. We set it up, left the clients to it, and came back later on to clear up. 

You know that feeling when you walk through a door, the room goes silent and all eyes are upon you? Well, that was what this was like when we went back to tidy.

I got a distinct impression from some of the patrons that we were gatecrashing their event. And even though I was lugging boxes, black bin bags and other assorted catering items, I definitely felt that I was "beneath" these people.

It took me back to our wedding reception. We did our own catering. Which also meant that even though we were the hosts, we also had to clear up too. I was going round, later on with bin bags, asking guests politely if I could have their used plates, cutlery, etc. Most folk were great, but some gave me the sort of looks like I'd farted on their mother!!!

I thought, "hang on, WE INVITED YOU!!!! You're here at our bequest, not the other way round."

I know that we're human and frequently caught out. But basic manners is something else. All I want to do is stamp on some people and set fire to their over-priced designer outfits. Fascists.

chilling

Continuing our series of "Bizarre and Despotic Dictators Of The 21st Century", our friend Kim-Jung Un is once again in the news.

Apparently, he won his seat in North Korea's Parliament with 100% of the vote, and there was a 100% voter turn-out.

I wonder if he voted for himself too?

Kim Jung-Un is a chip off the old block in a line of brutally-sadistic leaders of this poor country. The Kims are the living embodiment of Orwell's "1984" and I'm fairly sure they're very much aware of the book, and possibly deem it their Bible.

A lot of what we hear about the DPRK can be quite amusing in a backward-Stalinist state sort of way. The reality is a lot more chilling and disturbing. The people running the country are obviously terrified of the population gaining any knowledge of the outside world, and ruthlessly clamp down on any dissent. The DPRK have an almost pathological hatred of America, and although one can see their point of view to an extent, the real reasons for this mindset are blurred, obscured and tempered by over sixty-years of being on a war-footing with the U.S.

I don't believe the DPRK are nuclear-armed as they claim. If they were they'd use it, no doubts. Probably on Seoul. Or Japan. As if they haven't had enough.

One of my fondest wishes is to visit this weird country - which to all intents and purposes is a real-life version of "The Truman Show". One day, maybe, one day.......

kill

Today I was on a train. And one of the great things about trains in these enlightened days is their near-universal accessibility for everyone - regardless of ability / disability.

Even though they were aided by a ramp, it still took two members of staff to push an electric wheelchair user onto the train. This person had a face on him that said "kill". He didn't even say thank you to the train staff for their help.

His wheelchair, from what I could tell, was perfectly manoeuvrable. But instead, this grumpy balls remained where he was completely blocking the exit doors to the extent that no one could get on at that door, and no one could get off. He absolutely refused to move out of the way to let a guy with a bike off at a station. He merely sat there looking like a miserable Gollum - and that's pretty bad.

I thought maybe I was being too harsh on this bloke, his problems may have been more than physical. But bike guy, rightly, complained to the train guard, and only after train guard got Gollum's attention did he finally move. Not difficult was it?

I would never, ever abuse disabled people. But Gollum was a complete dickhead. My point being that disabled people can still be dickheads. 

I personally don't care what afflictions folk may have. Rightly or wrongly, I treat them all the same. There has been massive progress in bringing equality to the disabled, and I'm doing my bit.

co-co

I am knackered. Physically, mentally and whatever else goes on inside a human body to drag down the spirit and soul.

Nobody here's done me in or anything. Friends and family are fine. Jayne's brill and the kids are co-co.

I think that I think too much and for the first time in many years am acutely aware of what a huge mess the world is, yet I sit here, do bugger all about it except moan.

The reason I started the blog again was to work things out of my system without it becoming a diary. I read back through the blog and realise what a pompous knob I could be at times. I still am I suppose, but there's a time and a place and it's not on the Interweb anymore if I can help it.

My grammar and word-appropiate sentence structure used to be quite good. But I had an increasing tendency to waffle shite. Like I'm doing now.

Maybe this is my mid-life crisis? Adolescence was awful, how I got through that without too many mistakes was a miracle. At 43, I'm becoming slightly aware of my mortality and realise I've used much of the previous 42 years keeping my head down.

Rock still gets me. It will save the world. On saying that, I saw The Who last year and was utterly demoralised by their attitude. In a way, I couldn't blame them - Roger was 69 and Pete was 68. What have they got left to prove? The big screen behind the stage with the words "ROCK ON LIVERPOOL" left me in a state of melancholy I don't think I've experienced before or since. The Who are / were an ideal, this paragon of virtue, treating me like a cheap consumer.

I got over it, and appreciate their 60s / 70s excess is a gift we don't deserve. It's ours forever. I will take it to my grave.

BBC3

In an completely predictable and short-sighted way, the BBC are going to scrap BBC3, and give serious concerns to BBC4's future too.

Surely, surely, there are more worthy (or unworthy, depending on your point of view) candidates for the BBC to pick on in their never-ending quest to save money?

The thing with BBC3 is it's quite quirky - full of weird things that mainstream BBC1 would never, ever broadcast. Back in 1969, "Monty Python's Flying Circus" would have been a BBC3 programme if the channel were about.

What message does this give out to  budding writers and performers?

A pretty clear one actually. "We're not interested!"

As time passes, the BBC is becoming more commercially-driven, so utter drivel like "Strictly Come Dancing" and "The Voice" passes as acceptable output for the Corporation. And in a commercial sense, they're correct, but in a moral sense they're so, so wrong. I hate having my brains sucked out on a Saturday night. Entertain me, yes! But also educate and inform me too.

I thought that was the BBC's remit?

dangerous

Ukraine is a powder keg, waiting for someone to light the fuse. That someone is the above person.

Vladimir Putin is a very dangerous man. He is a complete contradiction in terms in a lot of ways. He loves his modern Russia with all its' gadgets, big business, flash cars, and money. He also yearns for the past too - he idolises the old Soviet Union and its' ways of controlling the population and media. Even so, I don't think cared much for Communism whichever way.

Just one man is manipulating a localised situation into a huge international flash point - because he can. Because he's a bully and does not trust rational human beings to determine their own future. 

The media coverage of the Ukrainian crisis has been interesting. Fox News is very anti-Russia, whilst Russia Today is very anti-America. Some things never change.

Putin is another of these lunatics who sees the world as a big, important place, whereas the reality of the our existence is we're really all living on a piece of rock in the arse end of nowhere. It would be nice if we could all get along, and failing that agree to disagree and let everyone live in some kind of peace.

religion

I like Jehovah's Witnesses. They come round to the door quoting their version of the Bible, tell me how awful things are and how, through organised religion, people can make a difference.

They're absolutely right. The Bible is a seriously good book - full of moral teachings one cannot argue against.

They're also absolutely wrong too. Because organised religion, whichever faith followed, sets one against the other, which would be good if the fine points argued are done in a rational and non-violent way. Generally, it can get out of hand very quickly, spreads like wildfire, and the next thing you know each believer is knocking ten kinds of shit out of the other. And vice-versa.

I told the lovely lady at my door that religion, God, Jesus, Satan, all of it MUST DIE!!! And be gone. Because I think people can be better off without it. There will be folk who will still do terrible things, but it won't be because of a faith in something bigger influencing them too. It will be on our terms. No heaven or hell at the end of it. Death is death. Maybe then we'll do more constructive things with our lives.

Balloons

Here's the craic........

Job interviews are an opportunity for both employer and potential employee to get to know each other, suss the other out and generally to get a grip on what makes each click.

That's fine and dandy and ice cream and balloons.

But when the "interview" by phone asks a lot of psycho mumble-jumble concerning my sales experience and potential for the company - without actually saying that outright - you know there's something wrong.

Personally, if I work for a company it's for myself just to keep me occupied. The monetary rewards are irrelevant. The day I take a job purely for the money is the day someone should shoot me through the head. Quickly.

But I'm getting to a point where this situation may arise. It's difficult when my ideals and beliefs are challenged in this most unsavoury way. 

Time will tell. Maybe I'm thinking too much and getting too far ahead of myself, which is nothing new, but I've always been nothing but cracked!!!