incendiary

It's turning into a bit of a Beatles' blog, I guess, but of all my neuroses this is easily the most harmless hahaha......

The newly remastered, resequenced and remixed "Live At The Hollywood Bowl" album shows Beatlemania at the height of its' power. The performances presented here exude an energy and enthusiasm that only the deaf would not appreciate what all the fuss was about. If anything, "Live At The Hollywood Bowl" would be as good a starting point for a psychological study of the human psyche than anything one could ever encounter. The sound of 20,000 screaming, hysterical teenagers, mainly girls, doesn't let up throughout the set. And as ever, the Beatles knew when to up a notch in their performances to get the audience to scream even louder. Did they do it on purpose just to wind the crowd up even more? Probably?

Modern technology, as good as it is, hasn't got to a point where the background din can be separated from the Beatles live prowess. The band still sound interested, their set brimming with exuburence and power that later tours would lose. Producer, Giles Martin, son of Sir George Martin, is a chip off the old block. He is as intimately acquainted with the Beatles sound as his father was, and in comparison with the original "Live At The Hollywood Bowl" album of 1977, he has merely dusted down and applied a new sonic sheen to the band's offering. The vocals shine on this re-release, the bass and drums mainly occupy the left channel, lead and rhythm guitars to the right - the shows were originally recorded on 3-track tape in chaotic conditions. George and Giles Martin have given us the live shows that have never done the Beatles justice...until now.

Highlights? The opener, "Twist And Shout" is raucous with a throat-tearing Lennon vocal. "Can't Buy Me Love" is full of urgency and pleading, "She Loves You" is almost as spine-tingling as the single, and "Long Tall Sally" proves that Paul, if any were ever needed, was as good vocally on visceral rockers as his writing partner. They really are THAT good. And this isn't me being a slobbering sycophant, I can listen to this with a critical distance and still say it's incendiary.

Buy. Download, Steal. Or something. This won't happen again.

Something

A bit of blogging for a change!

I'm a podcast junkie. Well, in the sense that there's some of them that I like. Howard Hughes' "The Unexplained" is a favourite, as well as LBC's James O'Brien's weekly "best of" podcast. I used to be an avid listener to Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode's weekly film review that the BBC put in a podcast, but the thing was, it went on for ages, and I have the attention span of an invertebrate, so depending on what mood I was in decided whether I could be bothered to listen to the whole show or not.

But for the past several months, I've been enjoying "Something About The Beatles"  -  a regular podcast hosted by a Brit (Richard Buskin) and a Yank (Robert Rodriguez).

And the link to their website and podcasts is this - http://somethingaboutthebeatles.com/

I like this. It's funny, informative and Richard and Robert as hosts just bounce off each other. They really do know their stuff - each of them have had several Beatles- related books published - and they often play rare tracks, covers, isolated Beatles multi-tracks and have interviewed key authors of Beatles books, such as Mark Lewisohn and Philip Norman.

The one gripe I have with it, regardless that they continually retract their words, is their anti-McCartney slant that casts a large shadow over everything. In Rob and Rich's world, Lennon is an out-and-out demigod, if a bit of a dickhead at times. George Harrison is portrayed as a genius upon whom the Beatles would never have gotten anywhere without his input. And Ringo is Ringo.

But Paul gets the lion share of the gripes, particularly from Richard who can't see that McCartney has done anything worthwhile as a solo artist, where I can beg to differ on many, many levels. The McCartney-sung track "Hold Me Tight" from "With The Beatles" comes in for some savage criticism over the course of the podcasts, yet the excellent Julie Traymor fantasy film "Across The Universe" which contained many reinterpretations of Beatles classics, used the song in some of the early key scenes in the movie. So who knows what????

I've been involved with the Beatles and their story for nearly forty years, and I think I know stuff, yet "Something About The Beatles" always lets me in on a new fact, or something I'd forgotten. I'd recommend it to any serious Fabs fan - as long as you're not that pushed about Paul!!!

buses

Let's talk about buses for a change. A personal perspective on the North Western Road Car Company, the one set up for deregulation of UK bus services, and not the one of 1972 vintage that some folk in Cheshire still hanker for to this day.

In September 1986, Ribble Motor Services, by far one of the largest State-owned National Bus Company subsidiaries, was split up into smaller units in the run-up to deregulation day in October 1986. Ribble's Merseyside operations were taken over by the newly reformed "North Western".

At that time, all of the Merseyside services North Western had inherited from Ribble were operated on behalf of Merseyside Passenger Transport Executive (MPTE). The company was guaranteed a fixed proportion of bus mileage within the PTE area, roughly between 12/13%. The PTE basically paid North Western to do work for them.

At deregulation, North Western had registered most of their Merseyside network commercially, to be operated for profit without any PTE subsidy. It was a grand plan, with many services improved. Their publicity at that time proclaimed the bold ambition of the infant company....

However, it was soon realised that North Western had overcalculated the returns they hoped to generate from their network. They were not helped by some odd diversions and revisions to routes that had run effortlessly under the previous regime. The fare scales were enormously complicated and, again, not helped by the rigourous fare hike that had to be enforced when the PTE subsidies came to an end. In fact, it didn't take too long for North Western to come to the conclusion that many of the Merseyside services didn't pay their way, a fact masked under PTE control when costs and subsidies were guaranteed.

A huge knife in their coffin came when North Western announced in 1988 that it would no longer accept the PTE-sponsored "Saveaway" bus / train / ferry combined tickets - hugely popular with the travelling public for over a decade. The company complained that PTE remuneration didn't justify accepting them. North Western's chief rival, the PTE's own company, "Merseybus", consequently put services on North Western routes to continue coverage for Saveaway users. More passengers lost to bad decisions.

Also it is worth noting that North Western NEVER traded as a stand-alone company. It was sold by the National Bus Company to the Drawlane Group, and continued its' downward spiral of cutting services and closing bus stations.

Today, North Western is long gone. It was swallowed up by Arriva Passenger Services, and now just the remaining Bootle depot is operational, but healthy - finally doing good things on north Merseyside.

worst

Maybe my two, most of the time, consider me "Dad", but I'd likely disown them if they got me something like this for Father's Day.

Imagine the worst type of condescending rubbish a record company can throw at you? Consider the implications of rehashing the same old, mostly bland, AOR nonsense over three compact discs (something else that's obselete!) and handing it to demographically-defined middle aged men as a present. Even the kindest of them will silently wonder "what's this shite????"

I love the cover though. However, the idea of me and Aaron working in either our shed or greenhouse on projects together whilst bopping away to "The Dad" album is a complete fantasy - a misnomer of megalithic proportions put together by some smug advertising executive whose ego is larger than his bank balance.

Journey, Boston, Whitesnake, Toto, Starship, Foreigner, Chicago, etc. You get the picture. Some of the worst excesses of corporate popular music ever committed for public consumption. 

Please don't be fooled by this dreadful marketing exercise. If any of the track listing appeals to you, there's any number of free download sites that will gladly give you 80s rock nostalgia to your hearts' content. 

A really nasty trick.

Utopia

As I get older, and slightly less interested in the music scene of now, and more introspective of what I grew up with (which is only natural I suppose?), I really can't figure out whether it's still as precious to me or not. Have I acquired, if I didn't have it already, a critical distance about all the bands I love?

The answer is fairly straight-forward - it's not that important. Because the great thing about music is it ebbs and flows. What floats your boat one week won't necessarily do the same the next......

"Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" is a great example.

Lauded as the best rock album of all time, it gains its' admirers and detractors in equal measure, but not at the same times. For every reviewer who names it as their favourite love-in, the next will lambaste it as the very worst indulgence the 60s had to offer.

The truth is a little in between. It's a flawed masterpiece - the influence of drugs, Hippiedom, the Beach Boys, etc all contribute in measure to its' greatness and awfulness. Take your pick what makes it and what doesn't.

I really don't get people who can't see the shite some of their favourite artists come up with. I love the Beatles - but they made some shocking stuff. No names mentioned, but some of it is pretty obvious. Check "The Beatles" (Apple PMC7067-68).

There is something wrong when a fan can't distinguish, I repeat myself now, critical distance of an artists output. 

For me, I'm still looking for Utopia (the destination, not the band!). I want to spend a lifetime looking for that perfect chord, that quintessential listening experience where all the vibrations and frequencies explode my head.

It's not much to ask is it?

knocked

On the day I was made redundant from my last proper job, the guy from the insolvency firm who were looking after the affairs of the company assured me that the Government-back redundancy payout would be roughly, and I quote, "a couple of grand...."

Well, tonight, after a lot of messing around I got an email from the Insolvency Service informing me that I will receive the princely sum of four quid short of £1,100.........

Talk about being knocked for six.

The thing is, both myself and Jayne had spent this "couple of grand"  in our heads for when it eventually came through. I wish we'd never even thought about it now.

I feel like I've been cheated, even though the figures are unassailable and correct. Maybe it's "just rewards" for the times I sat there at my desk and read old "Buses" magazines when I should've been doing something more productive? I dunno......

My long-term job prospects are a little up in the air because I'm currently employed three months on, then one month off, etc.. And even though I know I'll be back after that month's break, I'm wondering what to do during that time away? I have options on doing agency work again? Maybe get my taxi badge for a second time and try that for a couple of weeks? Or something completely different? I'd love to drive a van again!

I was complacent at my last job, but when the push came, I didn't piss about and spent 12 miserly days on the dole before getting back into work. I don't plan on being one of Cameron's Millions again, and like I always say time will tell.

Twenty

Twenty years ago today, Dad died.

I've mentioned this each and every year I've been online, and have related most of the best stories already. I've been thinking a lot about the half-memories and all those events that have been shrouded by the mists of time. 

I can remember going to him and crying in his arms once, but I can't remember the reasons why? All that's absolutely certain is I felt safe and secure. And I was about 16 at the time. He showed me unconditional love, whatever the circumstances. He always, and I mean always, tried to see things from my point of view. I never saw him look shocked or flustered by anything I asked or said to him. I think he was genuinely concerned I wasn't going to go through certain things in life he had.

He used to get in from work, have his tea, go and strip down to his underpants, then sit in his favourite chair all night like that! And we used to have all our mates coming in and out of the house while he sat there! They'd pop their heads around the door, "Alright, Jim!", "Alright, son!" Bonkers......

I can honestly say I never, ever had a row about anything with him. We could exchange views, and it was always done in a calm, controlled manner. I thought this was good because I quickly came to the conclusion that a lot of what goes on life is generally not worth getting hung up about. As a consequence, arguing my point has never been a strong point. But I digress.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had an amazing father who was funny, smart, grounded and caring. Fortunate because some folk don't have that sort of relationship with their dads either. I did, and whatever else is wrong with me, I'm blessed to have been as much a part of his life, as he was in mine.

xxx 

unfair

It's an odd thought, but I left school and started full-time work 28 years ago. It doesn't feel that long ago, in my mind anyway. Maybe spending, roughly, 18 years working with the same people at different companies, and the way each of those years blurred into one has coloured my memories?

I've only passed two job interviews in my life as well. The first was when I went to work for GB Fasteners back at the end of January 1996. I went for a part-time delivery driver job. I had no experience and only really knew Liverpool and surrounding areas by the bus routes, but I spent a pleasant half-hour chatting with Vince (the then-manager) about each other's recent holidays - and I got the job for some reason!!! The second time was when I wanted to be with Lin over in Dublin, and I went for an interview for a stores person at Tuck and Co. who were, back then, the main Makita power tool dealer in Ireland. That involved a lot more of my experience gained in the previous five years, and I was dreadfully under-prepared because I didn't expect it. But somehow I must have impressed them because they offered me a 12-month contract and I loved every minute of it.

The point I'm trying to come to is that, on the other side of the coin, the rest of my jobs have come through knowing someone in the know / a favour returned / etc, etc... And I wonder to myself, in those circumstances, have I been the best candidate for the position offered??? 

I think, to a degree, I have been. There's been nothing I've done that's completely overawed me or had me scratching my head in clueless bewilderment. I've had a great deal of trust and responsibility put onto me at certain times and I haven't abused that position. So regardless of the fact that my career choices may seem quite bland and unadventurous that's been okay for me. The security of a job, madly enough, has overrode its' financial rewards.

But I've seen people, in certain jobs, who have no right to them because they are mentally and emotionally unsuited for these positions. They have their jobs through the same system of knowing a person who knows so-and-so as what I did, but there the similarity ends. It takes a special kind of bullshit to convince the employer that this sort of person is essential to the smooth running of the organisation. And through selfishness and cunning, they achieve the aims of their scam, then convince themselves that they are worthy of promotion and more money. Some folk spend their entire working lives living out this reality.

I know of a firm that has various departments, and one department in particular builds itself up to be the best thing since sliced bread. But it squanders huge swathes of its budget on employing administration staff, the purpose of some of these positions is quite unknown, whilst using a small and hugely-overworked temporary workforce to cover the bolts-and-nuts day-to-day grind - these are the staff who interact with the customer more than anybody, and yet never, ever get any of the plaudits.

It's amazingly unfair, and I wonder where it all went wrong? Can you imagine a world where everyone had a job suited to their particular talents - where there was a love for doing what one did. They wouldn't care about their wages, because productivity and quality would be through the roof and everyone would have the best of everything.

Instead, we work in a system that rewards greed, shit-stirring and bloody-mindedness. If you're pissed off with your job, then I'd say I'm probably right.

greatest

Steven Gerrard's announcement that he will leave Liverpool at the end of this present season is no real surprise.

From the moment he lost the ball for their first goal in the game against Chelsea last season, he's had the look and attitude of a defeated man. But even that is usually off the scale in most other players' abilities by a country mile. He's shown glimpses of his brilliance, notably the free kick against Basel, so far, but mostly he looks destroyed.

Neither was it his greatest idea to captain a below-average England team during the 2014 World Cup. He looked totally out of his depth and...knackered to be honest. But this is just minor moans.

He's been mostly acclaimed to be the greatest Liverpool player ever, and if he isn't he's only a gnat's whisker behind Kenny Dalglish. This is understandable, but a complete knee-jerk reaction to a wider picture that neglects so many great players.

I saw Jan Molby's ball skills that defied physics. I saw John Barnes rampage through defences at pace with the ball stuck to his feet. I saw Ian Rush find the net 346 times without even thinking about it. I saw Graeme Souness, Steve Nicol, Fernando Torres, Emlyn Hughes, Patrik Berger, Sami Hyppia, Bruce Grobbelaar, etc, etc, the list goes on........

Would Gerrard have prospered in those 70s / 80s Liverpool sides that rampaged across Europe winning everything in sight? Of course he would, and he'd have been an integral part of the set up - if not the kingpin.

What sets Steven apart from those great players and impossibly brilliant sides is he's spent his entire career at Liverpool surrounded by, with notable exceptions, shite.  Through force of character, determination and single-mindedness, he led these quite average Reds teams to some of the greatest victories in our history. Jan Kromkamp - FA Cup winner anyone?????

What will determine Steven Gerrard's place as one of our greatest players will be time and perspective. In ten years time, if public opinion still favours Gerrard in the same tones as now, that will be a proper measure of the man and the player.

optimist

New year is something I'd like to avoid. There's a lot of disingenuous back-slapping, hand-shaking, kissing and hugging - amongst other things - that should best be left alone unless one really, truly means it. And a lot of people don't.

I'm not being pious. Believe me, there are half-a-million things wrong about myself that I'll freely  admit to. 

I have always thought, though, that generally people should be left to do what they want to do, and not be forced into situations that make them uncomfortable at best, or immoral and illegal at worst. 

I've found, over the last five years, that a lot of those sort of situations that will make me want to hide in a dark place aren't really that bad if I give them the chance. And if it still does me in, I say to myself that I'm only here x-amount of time and I'll then be back in my own little universe wondering what the fuss was all about.

I haven't made any New Year's Resolutions because every one of them I've broken. One lasted twenty years, so I have some fortitude about me. I just wish to be happy. And be in a job I like, that pays decent money so me and Jayne don't have to worry too much about the future. Every year I say that the back garden is going to look fantastic and we're going to grow loads of veg and colourful flowers, and we do after a fashion.

Jayne looks forward to the winter, oddly, and I look forward to the spring.

I think I'm generally an optimist. The glass is always half full. There's nothing you can do that can't be done. All of that sort of stuff. Whether I keep up to these lofty ideals throughout 2015 remains to be seen!!!

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.