Almax

In the six or so years I've been blogging, I've "met" some interesting characters.

It was incredibly saddening to hear today that my favourite blogger - indeed, one of my favourite writers in any medium - known to many as Almax, and to readers of seminal football fanzine The Absolute Game by his real name of Alastair McSporran (which he memorably described as having been invented by a Sunday Post sub-editor), died on Tuesday after a long illness.

Alastair's knowledge of music, conveyed through his blog, was an entry point for me into a whole world of previously unexplored music. Through him I discovered The Incredible String Band, Bunny Wailer, Ornette Coleman, Poco and many, many more.

I also enjoyed the debates he led on football, particularly the fortunes or otherwise of the Old Firm. I was lucky enough to be chosen as one of 35 private members of the blog when public access was revoked a few years back, and the community that Alastair created felt at all times like the world's best, most selective, private members club. No topic was off limits, and it became a safe haven of sorts to engage in occasionally heated discussion.

No words I write here can possibly do Alastair's talent justice. If a professional writer had left behind a body of work so varied, so forthright, so honest and so tear-inducingly hilarious, they would be feted for decades. That his blog was the work of a supposed amateur makes it all the more impressive.

While the main blog that bears his name remains behind closed doors, I recommend everyone visit this collection of Alastair's The Absolute Game writings for some of the best analysis of Scottish football you'll ever read.

Farewell Alastair - I'm listening to Blood On The Tracks in your honour.

New Arrivals

It's always interesting to see what brings the strange denizens of the Blogosphere to this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb.

The selection above from the past day makes for enlightening reading. Two people looking for pictures of John Lennon's beard; someone searching for the world's best name; another looking for the world's scariest name.

But my favourite is the person looking for "Disney midget" - they must be in the market for one of the seven dwarves.

Meeting Of Minds

As well as having the misfortune of watching Montrose lose their first league match of the season on Saturday, I also enjoyed the company of two of my fellow Scottish bloggers, The Tomahawk Kid and Big Rab of The Ben Lomond Free Press.

Both Rab and TK are Sons of the Rock, and both had made the pilgrimage to Montrose to see Dumbarton continue their push for promotion to Division Two. I worked with The Tomahawk Kid for a year or so when we were both employed by A Major Engineering Company, but Saturday was the first time I'd seen him in a few months.

TK and Rab have known each other since they were just wee boys, but it was the first time I'd had the opportunity to meet Rab.

So, an hour before kick-off, we met in the British Legion adjacent to Links Park for a mini blogmeet.

I believe a good time was had by all, although Rab and TK were more pleased with the result than I was. Oh, and Rab did voice displeasure at cups of Bovril that were described as espresso-sized.

And I thought it was us east coasters who were supposed to be grippit.

Big Rab, Groanin' Jock and The Tomahawk Kid in the Legion before Saturday's match.

Photo courtesy of Tomahawk Kid Junior.

Kick Your Blogroll Up The Arse

As instigated by Misssy M of the Misssy M Misssives, I'm going to give my blogroll a kick up the arse.

Misssy, inspired by her own laziness, has decided to venture out into the uncharted (by her) regions of the Blogosphere in search of pastures new, and is encouraging everyone else to follow suit.

Here are the handy copy-and-paste rules:

What you do is you go to four of your favourite blogs and pick a blog from their blogroll that you’ve never visited or commented on.

You then add them to your blogroll or feed, read them for at least a month (by which time there should be no turning back) and give them a chance to invade your life.

Then you duplicate the main part of this post with a note on whose blog you got it from. Stick the four new blogs you are going to read up , tell us briefly why you chose them and whose blogroll they came from.

And if you want, coerce others mercilessly into joining in. Then start reading.

Here are the choices I have made:

1: From Misssy's own blogroll, Gorilla Bananas' The Japing Ape. Looks like I've hit gold from the get-go: magnificently surreal in places, pictures of Britney snogging Madonna and a droll dead pan wit. What more could one expect of the world's leading anthropological ape?

2: Eric is, officially, my Blogfather, so I guess his blogroll would be another good place to look. Chosen completely at random, I've alighted at Quality Weenie. Who is, apparently, an Early Explorer, a Daydreamer and a dog lover. All of which sounds much like myself.

3. Big Rab likes good music, good football (and Dumbarton) and a good dram. Hopefully, his taste in bloggers is as refined as his other tastes. And the fact that Helpless Dancer's blog is called The Endless Note and that he describes himself as a music enthusiast suggests I'm in good company here. The Who, Glasvegas, Dr John and football on the front page is a good start.

4. And finally, from Erica's blog roll, Last One Speaks - "Musings of a complicated woman with simple tastes" - who's intrigued by her Oriental neighbours. Hey, now I'm intrigued too.....

No tagging from me - play along if you want to....

Alastair's Heart Monitor

It's always sad when a fellow blogger hangs up the keyboard and consigns their online missives to history.

But when the blogger bidding the blogosphere farewell is one of the most gifted amongst us, it's a doubly hard blow.

Alastair of Alastair's Heart Monitor is, for understandable reasons, about to call time on what, for me, could be the greatest blog out there.

No other site on the internet has ever held my attention on such a wide range of subjects - from the frequently bizarre world of Scottish football to rare Beatles tracks; from the dangerously barmy natives of North America to the spectacularly entertaining world of the libel courts.

Through Alastair's site, I've often been sent out into the wider world in search of further information - rare soul tracks, classic novels and vintage football footage.

While you still have the chance, I'd urge you all to visit Alastair's site, trawl through his archives and re-emerge into the world around you hours later, a plethora of new knowledge fighting for space in your brain.

Groanin' Jock's Chinglish Adventures Volume I: You're Polite People

Well, we're home, and thoroughly exhausted by the combination of walking around one of the world's biggest, noisiest, dustiest, smoggiest cities, not to mention the jetlag and the fact that I was back in work at a time scandalously close to the arse crack of dawn yesterday.

Given that this is my "I'm home" post, I don't want to go into too much detail on what happened in China, but I'll come back to it in the fullness of time.

Instead, I'll firstly thank the wonderful guest posters who have filled the empty pages here at Dungroanin' during my absence - Misssy M, Erica, The Tomahawk Kid and Rachel - all of whom have done a far better job than me of being witty, entertaining and articulate.

And I'll also begin a brand new series right here, right now: Groanin' Jock's Chinglish Adventures.

Chinglish is a curious language that exists only in China. This peculiar written language tends to occur in places where Chinese directions or instructions have been translated into English in a less than coherent manner. And in Shanghai, they can be found everywhere - on street signs, in museums, in the printed media and on people's clothes.

This first one is from a street sign at a pedestrian crossing in central Shaghai.

Chee-ree-oh, We're Off To China

The next time you hear from me, I'll either be in China or back from China.

Be nice to the guest posters.

If anyone needs us, we'll be with Paul Langmead.

Getting Ready

I'm tired, thanks to getting home late last night after playing in the Aberdeen Oil League then watching the UEFA Cup Final.

I couldn't possibly pass on mentioning the Rangers match, disappointing though the result was.

But if anyone had told me at the start of the season that Rangers would play in a European final within the next year, I would have thought them insane.

The better team won last night, but Rangers played to their strengths, defending (fairly) solidly and looking to catch Zenit on the break.

And in the second half, just as it looked as though Rangers might take the lead through their continued pressure, Zenit scored, and the match was over.

So yes, I'm disappointed, but extremely proud of the club for having made it to Manchester in the first place. Now we can turn our attentions to the league....

The next few days are likely to be spent in a blur as I attempt to get all my shit together before flying off to China. But even before then, I'm going to be a busy boy. Tonight, Dungroanin' will be graced by Eric, my Blogfather and everyone's favourite Heterosexual Caucasian Male, and his wife Fiona, who are in these frozen northern climes for a holiday.

So we'll catch up, set the world to rights and share a drink or two, safe in the knowledge that neither of us has to work the next day.

Friday will be spent packing and preparing everything for departure to Shanghai, including delivering Mrs Wife's rabbits, Pepper and Dylan, to a rabbit boarding establishment. Yep, such a thing exists.

That will be followed by the Dirty Pretty Things concert in Dundee, which should be pretty darn good, what with DPT being a Libertines/Cooper Temple Clause indie supergroup. Which will, in turn, be followed by a night in a hotel at Glasgow airport before we jet off.

I'm not sure whether I'll be able to blog while I'm away, so I've arranged for a few kind souls to drop by and keep both my readers amused in the interim. And they're likely to be so good that my presence here will no longer be required.

Velociman

This is the funniest thing I've read in ages.

No Capital Punishment

The sun was splitting the sky in Edinburgh this afternoon, and it was a good day to be on holiday in our nation's fair capital.

My journey was one of necessity, as I needed to collect my own and Mrs Wife's passports from the Chinese Consulate. An early start meant that I arrived as the mid morning sun was starting to warm up, and my business with the Chinese was concluded in only a few short minutes.

Which meant that the day was at my disposal. When left unattended in cities, I tend to migrate towards shops selling cheap CDs, DVDs, books and clothes. And so it proved today.

In a day of pounding the streets, I managed to pick up Anchorman (which I've never seen), Mallrats and Super Furry Animals' Phantom Power on DVD, as well as Radiohead's Com Lag and We Are Scientists' Crap Attack on CD.

The latter purchase was made less than 24 hours after seeing We Are Scientists perform a fantastic gig at Aberdeen Music Hall. Though their recently-released second album lacks the punch and catchy tunes of their debut, the WAS set was fantastic from beginning to end. Unfortunately, it was preceded by two chronically abysmal support bands and a cack-handed roadie struggling to tune the instruments, but all that was forgotten once WAS had hit their stride.

But I digress. In Edinburgh today, I also managed to pick up The Broons and Oor Wullie 1946-1956: The Golden Years and Hearts - The Diary of An Incredible Season. I'm especially looking forward to reading the latter title, as it was written by Mike Smith, a recent visitor to this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb and himself a fellow denizen of the blogosphere.

The drive home took place in glorious sunshine, and even the slow-moving traffic between Edinburgh and the Forth Bridge, and in Dundee, wasn't enough to dampen the spirits.

Roll on work and a chance to mock some Aberdeen fans tomorrow.

Blank

I am (allegedly) a professional writer.

I don't intend that to sound like some wanky self-aggrandising statement of my writing abilities - it's merely a statement that means I get paid to write stuff.

But being a professional writer means that I shouldn't now be sitting staring at a blank page (well, blank screen) pondering what nonsense to commit to the blogosphere.

That's not really the case though. Just because my employer is kind enough to fill my bank account at the end of each month for committing words to page, doesn't mean that I have any inspiration to write witty, intelligent and thoughtful discourse here on the worldwide interweb.

(I've never written anything witty, intelligent or thoughtful in 18 months of online gibberish to date, and I'm not about to start now.)

Basically, I get paid to translate the machinations of the oil industry into commercial gold, information that can help keep cars running and PlayStations in production around the world.

Inspiration isn't one of the job requirements. I never really have to start at the 'blank page' level.

But here - well I can write about anything I like or dislike. Nothing is taboo, no sacred cow is so sacred it can't be butchered.

And therein lies the problem - where do I start? How do I even begin to tackle the sheer volume of stuff happening in the world today, the weight of history behind it and the possibilities ahead of it?

Hmmm, maybe I can't - maybe I should stick to what I know best - weird folk from the internet:

Been and Gone

The 20,000th visitor, predictably, was someone who arrived at 3.55am seeking pictures of Evangeline Lilly.

So, if you were that student (lecturer?) from St Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada who was magic number 20,000, let me know and you can claim your prize.

Twenty-thousand People Can't Be Wrong

If the number of visitors dropping by at this humble and far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb keeps up at its usual pace, the 20,000th visitor will cross the threshold either today or tomorrow.

Frankly, I'm astonished that there have been 20,000 individual visits to this site in 18 months. I know that lots of those visits have been as a result of searching for various things on the internet - quite often pictures of Uluru, Evangeline Lilly and Kylie Minogue, all of which have featured in my barely-literate rants at least once.

Others come seeking unwholesome things involving jocks, jockstraps and other jock-related activities.

But a few hardy souls seem to return fairly often, presumably to read the nonsense spouted on these pages.

With the big 20k moving closer, I'd like to thank all of those who visit daily, weekly, or less often, and those who find my ramblings interesting, entertaining or infuriating enough to comment.

Haste ye back.

Horton's Folly

Praise be!

Horton Carew, famed product of a union between a syphilitic scullion and prominent biscuit maker, now sadly incarcerated in the Dundee Home for the Irretrievably Demented, has returned to the Blogosphere.

I urge you all to visit his electronic diary to hear of his plans for escape.

Anti-Hijack System

As spotted at The Frog Bog - The Band Meme.

1. Click on this link. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random. The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. Click on this link. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3. The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. Click on this link. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/. The third picture is your album cover.

4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together and you’re done.

My band name is Anti-Hijack System, and our debut album is called Smaller Countries Are Neutral.

Here's the cover (or a rectangular version of it anyway):

Anti-Hijack system are a politically-motivated rock band drawing their inspiration from Rage Against The Machine and Black Flag.

Tracks on the debut album Smaller Countries Are Neutral are:

1. Worth More Than Money (A bombastic opening onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars.)

2. Enough To Die For (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars, with lyrics giving a first-person account of the last few minutes in the life of a suicide bomber.)

3. The Ideas of Living (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars discussing Marxist theory.)

4. Convenience of the Hour (A Boyzone-style ballad featuring four-way harmonies and a harp.)

5. Recognised Wiser Than Oneself (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars, lyrics about George W Bush.)

6. To Succeed As Myself (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars giving a modern retelling of the tale of Robert The Bruce.)

7. Quality Of My Work (Instrumental. Bass-heavy bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars.)

8. Who Can Help You? (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars. Contains subliminal backwards-masked advert for the Samaritans.)

9. Their Birth As Toys (A bombastic onslaught of drums and chainsaw guitars explaining why Transformers are responsible for the decline of civilisation.)

10. Smaller Countries Are Neutral (An introspective acoustic meditation on the fact that it might always rain in Switzerland, but at least you're not going to be conscripted.)

Why the cyclist on the album cover? Is it a look at man's loney quest for acceptance, struggling against the bigger, more powerful vehicles on life's great road? A view of how travel should be if the world is to survive global warming? Is that backpack packed with explosives, their courier about to deliver his last parcel ahead of his meeting with those virgins in paradise?

Nah, Anti-Hijack System just thought it looked cool.

Royal Hoo-Ha

When you've finished watching the Hendrix video below (and let's face it, you'll need to watch it more than once) head on over to Alastair's Heart Monitor for this excellent post on a sadly defunct British spectator sport.

Eight More Things About Me

My favourite Fred Astaire-loving wiseass Jooette has tagged me with the Eight Fascinating Facts meme.

I've actually done this one before, but what's another eight facts between friends? So here are facts nine to 16:

1: The first football match I ever attended was a friendly between Brechin City and Rangers in 1990 or 1991 for Dougie Scott's testimonial. I think the score was 6-4 to Brechin. Ian Durrant scored a penalty and Mark Walters, Terry Hurlock and Colin Scott all played for Rangers.

2: I have eight Standard Grades, seven Highers, two Certificates of Sixth Year Studies and a Bachelor's degree in Journalism. Oh, and National Certificates in Art, Music and Keyboard Skills.

3: I've scored two goals in the Aberdeen Oil League this season. Our team hasn't won a match yet.

4: I collect Hurricane cocktail glasses from Hard Rock Cafes around the world. So far, my collection covers Rome, Sydney, Edinburgh, Madrid, Melbourne, Singapore, New York, Cancun, Paris, Kuala Sumper, Surfer's Paradise and Hollywood.

5: Wales is the only country in the British Isles that I've never been to. For some reason, it just doesn't appeal.

6: The first dance at my wedding was Here, There and Everywhere by The Beatles.

7: This year, I'm spending Xmas with Mrs Wife's parents for the first time before jetting off to Brussels for New Year.

8: I attended four different Primary Schools and one High School as a boy. My first school had several hundred pupils, my second had nine when I started and seven when I left, my third had three when I started and five when I left, and my fourth had 13 when I started and 11 when I left.

So, weren't those facts just scintillatingly exciting? I'm meant to tag eight more bloggers to play along, but I think everyone should play if they want to and ignore it if they don't.

Voyager

Another interesting Google search term that brought someone in this direction: "Private sex voyage".

Sounds fulfilling.....

We're All Going On A (Post) Summer Holiday

Next week, Mrs Wife and I have a full week's holiday for the first time in what feels like ages.

No firm plans have been made beyond a couple of days in Falkirk visiting friends, and probably stopping in at the Falkirk Wheel and Stirling Castle.

As I'll probably not be within reach of a computer for some of the week, I'm throwing out an invitation to any of you strange people of the worldwide interweb who would like to have a bash at filling the empty space and time here at Groanin' Jock.

Anyone who'd like a set of keys to this humble site for a guest post next week can let me know in the comments or email me at groaninjock@bigfoot.com.

I'm ready for anything....

Smiley Smile

Some of you strange folks out on the worldwide interweb apparently find this site funny - probably just very occasionally.

In recognition of this, Tish over at The Kat House has presented me with the You Make Me Smile Award.

Says Tish: "Groanin’ Jock has a wonderful sense of humor, and I can always expect a laugh when visiting his blog."

My sense of humour is built almost entirely on sarcasm, which I have been told is the lowest form of humour, but the highest form of wit.

Anyway, to keep the torch burning, I should really nominate a couple of folks as recipients of the same award. Two of the sites where I can always expect a laugh are Horton's Folly and The Misssy M Missives. And what do you know - both Horton Carew and Misssy are Scots. I guess we're just the funniest race on Earth.