50 Questions

Fifty questions, as seen at Big Stupid Tommy's blog.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? That mirror is fogged up.

2. How much cash do you have on you? The princely sum of 28p.

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR? Floor.

4. Favorite planet? I've never visited any others, so I'm going to have to say Earth. Otherwise, I'd have gone for Tatooine.

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? There isn't one. I always delete my list of calls so that I don't inadvertently call someone just by bending over to tie my shoelace.

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone? My standard ringtone is an MP3 of Chuck Berry's Johnny B. Goode, but my favourite is probably Empire by Kasabian. I've got different ringtones set up for different people.

7. What shirt are you wearing? A dark blue cotton one from Florence and Fred at Tesco. Cheap and functional for work.

8. Do you label yourself? Probably subconciously. I tend to think of myself as friendly, funny, intelligent and lazy.

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing? Black leather Hush Puppies. They're looking a bit scratched and worn, but they're really comfy.

10. Bright or Dark Room? I like watching TV and DVDs in the dark, otherwide I prefer having the lights on. Not too bright though.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you? I've never met him, but his blog is hilarious and occasionally seems to be like a trawl through the kind of crap that floats around my head.

12. What does your watch look like? Silver, chunky, with a round face. A gift from Mrs Wife for my 26th birthday.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping. I finished watching Alien v Predator at around 11.30pm, made my lunch for today, then went to bed.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say? It was a message about going to a friend's wedding in Las Vegas next year. Not sure of the exact wording though.

15. Where is your nearest 7-11? Probably somewhere in the USA. Thousands of miles away. But if the question means nearest convenience store, there's a Spar about five minutes' walk that sells a good selection of wrestling magazines, blue fizzy juice and junk food.

16. What's a word that you say a lot? I say "fuck" far too often. It's one of my worst, and least endearing, habits

17. Who told you he/she loved you last? Mrs Wife last night on the phone.

18. Last furry thing you touched? Mrs Wife's pet rabbit Pepper. She sniffed at my fingers this morning as I was putting fresh hay into her cage.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days? Do pear cider and chocolate count? If not, none.

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed? None. Mrs Wife is in charge of photgraphy duties nowadays, and we're purely digital.

21. Favorite age you have been so far? I think 18 was pretty good, but all years since then have been good. But for sheer enjoyment, the years up until my seventh birthday were probably best,

22. Your worst enemy? Laziness.

23. What is your current desktop picture? At work, it's a photograph of The Beatles taken during the I Am The Walrus video from Magical Mystery Tour. At home, it's a photograph of scenery from Southeast Asia that came as one of the Windows Vista options.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone? "There you go" as I gave him a card to sign.

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be? As much as I'd like to be able to fly, I think I'd go for the money. It would make life a lot easier. Although that's only 500,000 pounds. But it would make life more relaxing and enjoyable. And if I could fly, I'd probably just find that I was cold, lost and alone.

26. Do you like someone? I like lots of people.

27. The last song you listened to? The last track on the latest Foo Fighters album on my car CD player driving into work.

28. What time of day were you born? About 4am I think. I'm not sure, my memory is hazy....

29. What’s your favorite number? 7, 8, 10 and 11. Because of what they represent on a football pitch.

30. Where did you live in 1987? At the start of the year I lived in the hamlet of Kinnaber, outside Montrose, but in April that year we moved to another hamlet, Forsinard, which is south of Thurso and probably one of the most remote places in mainland Britain.

31. Are you jealous of anyone? Occasionally, but then I remember how happy I am where I am, doing what I do and being with the people I'm with.

32. Is anyone jealous of you? I have no idea. No-one has ever told me that they are.

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened? Barcelona. Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend) and I were backpacking around Europe. It didn't really register until late in the day that something huge had happened.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money? Repeatedly press the coin return button, hit the machine, attempt to tilt it. Then try buying the same product again to see if I get two falling out.

35. Do you consider yourself kind? On a day-to-day basis, yes. I'm sarcastic and enjoy stirring people up, but I wouldn't intentionally go overboard.

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? Probably between my shoulder blades. But I won't get one.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? French or Spanish would probably be most useful based on where I live.

38. Would you move for the person you loved? Yes. I have done.

39. Are you touchy feely? No.

40. What’s your life motto? "Enjoy yourself".

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times? Well, there's no item of clothing or jewellery that I ALWAYS have on. So I'll say hair, hands and feet.

42. What’s your favorite town/city? New York. Despite having spent only five days there in the past 27.5 years.

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash? A Twix from the company tuck shop.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it? I have no idea. Years ago. Probably a thank you letter for a wedding gift in 2006.

45. Can you change the oil on a car? No. I can top it up. But my dad's a mechanic.....

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her? I don't know. Haven't heard anything for a long time. Not especially bothered.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry? Practically nothing. In fact, I don't even know much about my own grandparents, in the grand scheme of things. Although my paternal Granny claims to be related to Robert Burns.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy? I donned the kilt ensemble for a friend's wedding party in Dublin during the summer.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now? Strangely, no. Although I bet if I poke my left big toe, twist my left ankle inwards or stick my finger up my nose, I can soon change that.

50. Have you been burned by love? Definitely. But that which does not kill us only makes us stronger. Or shit happens.

Cold Days and Classic Movies

There's a nasty nip in the air today (no Pearl Harbour jokes please) here on the east coast of Scotland, and it's clear that winter is most definitely either here or on the way.

When Mrs Wife and I made the decision almost a year ago to move east, we did so knowing full well that the weather would be drier, but most certainly colder. But I'd forgotten just how bitterly cold it can be over on this side of the country.

The heating in my office didn't seem to be working too effectively this morning, and hopefully this won't be an indication of things to come, as the days will certainly get colder as we reach mid winter.

And this evening, I am left to my own devices, rabbit-sitting duties aside, as Mrs Wife is in Edinburgh for training. Last night, faced with the prospect of a free evening, I decided to watch the The Shawshank Redemption for the first time.

I don't know how I'd managed not to see the movie before, but I'd heard a lot about it - with several friends placing it amongst the greatest movies ever.

And my verdict - yeah, it's good, but I don't think it's quite deserving of the legendary status bestowed on it by some people.

Certainly not a patch on Star Wars.....

Schadenfreude

Schadenfreude
Pronunciation: Sha-den-froy-da
Function: Noun
Usage: Often capitalized
Etymology: German, from Schaden (damage) and Freude (joy)
Date: 1895
Definition: Enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others.

Greety pus
Pronunciation: Gree-tee pusssss
Function: Noun
Usage: Colloquial
Etymology: Scottish, from greet (cry) and pus (face)
Date: Late 20th century
Definition: A face that looks as though the wearer is struggling to hold back tears.

Never in my life have I been so determined to see a football team from a country I've never visited record a victory as was the case last night.

Due to my participation in a football match with my own team, I missed the first 15 minutes of England's humbling at Croatian hands (or feet) last night, turning on the television just as John Motson picked over the bones of the visiting side's second goal.

I watched in barely-controlled glee as half-time arrived with Croatia's lead in tact, and laughed out loud repeatedly during the half-time analysis, where you would have been hard pushed to find four better greety puses than those worn by Messrs Lineker, Hansen (traitor), Shearer and (especially) Wright. Wright's defence of his stepson Shaun Wright-Phillips' performance would have been heartbreaking, had it not been so amusing.

During this analysis, Hansen said words to the effect of "We've all [ie the pundits] played in massive games when things have gone wrong."

Well, Wright certainly has - he was a member of the last England squad to fail in its bid to reach a major championships, scoring four as England recovered from conceding a goal inside nine seconds to beat mighty San Marino 7-1 in 1993.

And so the second half got underway with Beckham taking up his customary position in front of the cameras on the right. I then watched in horror as England were awarded a definite penalty and a lip-licking Lampard struck it into the net.

This horror escalated as Beckham delivered a perfect cross to Crouch, whose finish under pressure in slippery conditions was magnificent (it's REALLY easy to talk up England's players when you know the final outcome, isn't it?)

Thankfully, Mladen Petric saved the rest of Europe from the ordeal of seeing England flounder at yet another major championship. And Scotland rejoiced.

Maybe it's small minded to take such pleasure from England's misfortune. I don't care. To misquote Renton from Trainspotting, I truly haven't felt this good about a football match since James McFadden scored against France.

One of the real highlights was the increasing desperation that crept into John Motson's commentary as the final whistle drew closer, culminating in a final, helpless "Pleeeeease" as Beckham delivered a final ineffective corner. And with the match finished and Croatia celebrating an historic win, suddenly Motson and Lawrenson seized on an ingenious escape route - Andorra, who had lost their previous 28 internationals, might just find an equaliser against Russia with three minutes remaining!

As I write this, the inevitable has happened - Steve McLaren has been made the fall guy for the FA's haplessness and his players' hopelessness. Already, names such as O'Neill, Scolari, Allardyce and Capello are being bandied about. At the moment, I don't care. It's just great to know that England's "Golden Generation" is going to achieve exactly the same on the international stage as their gifted forebears Carlton Palmer and Tony Daley - absolutely hee-haw.

The end of England's qualifying dream could also spell the end of a few of the players' international careers. Beckham may struggle to find favour with a new manager. Robinson and Carson will have to work hard to rebuild their reputations. David James is surely yesterday's man. But big decisions on the futures of Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard will almost certainly be shirked. Gerrard looked pedestrian last night, whilst Lampard, despite inexplicably being named man of the match last night, has struggled for England in recent years.

As for the proposed return of the Home Nations tournament - will England fancy it now that Scotland are immense and they are so patently weak? In fact, I'd be prepared to put money on both Scotland and Norn Iron having a right good go at England if the tournament was resurrected.

Bring it on.

It'll Take More Than Ear Defenders

Yet again, the search terms that bring people to Groanin' Jock keep me amused - someone from good old little Britain came here looking for advice: "stop the wife bleating with ear defenders".


Good luck my man - you'll need it.

Over and Out

I don't really have the enthusiasm or desire to pick over the bones of Scotland's defeat or Israel's victory at the weekend - countless pages of newsprint have been devoted to both over the past two days, penned by wordsmiths better qualified and better paid than I am.

All I will say is that the defeat seems all the more bitter in that it came in the final match of the qualifying campaign, when we still had an outside chance of reaching the European Championships finals.

The campaign has, despite its unhappy ending, been a success - finishing in third place was more than we'd have expected when the group was drawn, and we were still in with a chance of winning it up until around 6:43pm on Saturday. The great strides taken by Scott Brown, Allan Hutton and Kris Boyd in particular have been heartening, and it's now inconceivable that a Scotland squad would be missing any of them.

So, in the aftermath of the match, the positives we can take are that we defeated France at home and away, skelped Ukraine at Hampden and went toe-to-toe with the world champions for 88 minutes, looking like the better side for much of it. And our performances in this campaign are that we exorcised the ghosts of Berti Vogts' reign, whilst also ensuring we won't be drawn in as tough a group again.

As for England - I'm currently on the lookout for a Croatia top going cheap.....

Forza Caledonia

Expect nothing of sense from me in the next few days - tomorrow Scotland face world champions Italy in a do-or-stay-at-home-watching-the-games-on-the-telly-next-summer match.

Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, everyone associated with the squad can hold their heads high at their achievements in still being in with a chance of qualifying at the final round of matches. Anyone who predicted that would be the case when the draw was made is, quite simply, a liar.

LET'S GET STUCK INTAE THEM!!



As seen at Big Rab's and about 20 emails over the past week.......

Scam Warning

I recently became the victim of a clever scam whilst out shopping at the Bon Accord Shopping Centre in Aberdeen, when simply going out to get some bits and pieces turned out to be quite traumatic. Don't be naive enough to think it couldn't happen to you.


Here's how the scam works: Two seriously good looking 18 or 19 year old girls come over to your car as you are loading your stuff into the boot. They both start wiping your windshield with a rag and Windolene with their cleavage almost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look.


When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say "No" and instead ask you for a lift to Holburn Street. You agree and they get in the back seat.


On the way, they start having sex with each other. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and perform oral sex on you, while the other one steals your wallet.


I had my wallet stolen on October 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th, three times just yesterday, and very likely again this upcoming weekend as soon as I can buy some more wallets.

Religion, Politics and Sport

As seen over at BobG's site - the politics test. Apparently I'm socially moderate and economically liberal - which translates to Democrat in Americanese.

Well, if the alternative is Dubya playing at wars....

Strangely though, I'm on the borderline between Democrat and Totalitarian, and fairly close to Centrist. When, in truth, I'd be happy if the government just left me alone and charged me less in taxes.

You are a Social Moderate (43% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (28% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat (28e/43s) Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Even More Wicked

I recently wrote a post extolling the virtues of Wikipedia, and how it offered people the chance to share their knowledge just for the sake of sharing it.

But I suppose the site does have its downsides.....

20,000 Board Members

Interesting news on the football front today - the MyFootballClub.co.uk website has agreed a deal to purchase Blue Square Premier Division side Ebbsfleet United.

The concept is certainly innovative - each person who signs up at the website pays £35 to become a member of the club, but not of the club's board. The club will be owned by MyFootballClub, which will essentially be a co-operative. So far, so normal - Barcelona, to name but one side, have more than one million 'members' who can vote to elect a president who is then in charge of running the club for a fixed term.

But MyFootballClub is promising an even more hands-on experience than that - each member will be given a vote on team selections and transfers. And it is here that the plan falls down.

So far, 20,000 members have stumped up the £35 membership fee. Each of these members will therefore be entitled to a vote on tactics. But how is that workable - will there be a poll on the website before each match to determine the formation? Will the members then have to vote on which players will wear each shirt? Frankly, it's unworkable.

The same applies to transfers - will each of the 20,000 members be canvassed to determine their preferred signings? Again, that's unworkable, especially in a sport where player movements are restricted to two transfer windows. Running such a system on transfer deadline day, where a single minute's delay can make or break a deal, would be a complete non-starter.

The aims behind MyFootballClub are to be lauded - to take a club into the hands of the fans, and prove that the combined will of the members can be a positive force in British football.

And, if it were simply a case of each member putting in their cash and attending the matches, it might work. But if every Tom, Dick and Harry then expects to have a say in every single decision at the club, I can only see the whole experiment descend into farce.

No, Mr Bond, I Expect You To Die

If my Sitemeter stats are accurate, around 60 hardy souls venture down to this humble outpost of the worldwide interweb each day in search of gratification, enlightenment and entertainment. (In actual fact, most of them come in search of pictures of Uluru or Evangeline Lilly. I'm not criticising those important quests, just saying....)

Anyway, with the dreaded C word just around the corner (that's Xmas, for those of you who can't get your minds out of the gutter), I've decided that, should my readers wish to reward my random mutterings by way of a festive gift, I know exactly what I want.

A man-made island located one mile off England's southern coast is available at the perfectly reasonable price of USD 8 million, which, given the current value of the dollar, works out at around £1.54. The island, originally built to defend against the French (couldn't we just have said "Boo"?), was a private residence for a time and was later reborn as a luxury hotel, complete with a heated swimming pool, jacuzzis, 21 themed rooms, two helipads and two restaurants. A bore will supply me with fresh water from the sea bed. Generators will take care of my electricity. There is also a rooftop garden that must feature some pretty hardy plants, and a gym to keep me in shape.

What says "I love your work" more than several thousand tonnes of concrete in the English Channel? If each of my daily readers wishes to contribute to the present (and why wouldn't you?), I figure that USD 136,666 from each of the strange sixty will be sufficient to secure the property. And, once I've received the keys, I'll hold a massive blog meet/housewarming party to say thank you.

I await your generous donations.

Commonwealth Games

With Glasgow having been announced as the host city for the 2014 Commonwealth Games, the competition itineraray has been published:

OPENING CEREMONY: The Commonwealth flame will be ignited by a petrol bomb thrown into the arena by a native of the Easterhouse area of the city, wearing the traditional costume of balaclava and shell suit.

THE EVENTS: Glasgae's previous competitors have not been particularly successful. In order to redress the balance some of the events have been altered slightly to the advantage of the local athletes...

100 METRES SPRINT: Competitors will have to hold a video recorder and a microwave oven (one under each arm) and on the sound of a starting pistol a police dog will be released 10 metres behind the athletes.

110 METRES HURDLES: As above but with added obstacles, ie car bonnets, hedges, gardens, fences, walls etc.

HAMMER: The competitors will be allowed to make a choice of hammer (claw, sledge, etc.). The winner will be the one who can cause the most grievous bodily harm to members of the public within their allotted time.

WEIGHTLIFTING: From a standing position, competitors will have various electronic goods placed in their arms. In order to complete a lift, these must then be taken through the shop door and placed in a mate's van.

FENCING: Entrants will be asked to dispose of as much stolen jewellery as possible within five minutes.

SHOOTING: A series of targets will be set up to establish the competitor's ability over a range of disciplines. The targets to be as follows:- 1 - A moving police van. 2 - A Post Office clerk. 3 - A bank teller or Securicor driver. 4 - Their next door neighbour's youngest child. NB - This target to be followed by the ritual cry of 'I thought he was a Bizzy' or 'He pulled a knife on me'.

BOXING: Entry to be restricted to husband and wife teams. Competition will take place on every Friday and Saturday night of the games.The husband will be given 15 pints of Stella, and the wife will be told not to make him any tea when he gets home. The bout will then commence.

CYCLING TIME TRIALS: Competitors will be asked to break into the Glasgae University bike shed and take an expensive mountain bike, owned by some mummy's boy from the country on his first trip away from home. Against the clock.

CYCLING PURSUIT: As above, however this time the break-in must occur at a police station and must be witnessed by an officer.

TIME TRIAL: The competitor who can waste the most of the court's valuable time before being found guilty will be adjudged the winner.

MODERN PENTATHLON: Amended to include mugging, breaking & entering, flashing, joyriding and arson.

THE MARATHON: A safe route has yet to be decided, but the competitors will be issued with sharp sticks and bags with which to pick up dog shit, crisp packets and used hypodermic syringes on their way round.

MEN'S 50Km WALK:
Q - Why does the Clyde run through Glasgae? A - Because if it walked it would get mugged.
Therefore for safety reasons this event has been cancelled.

RELAY: Each of four competitors to remove an appliance of their choice from a house in Kilbride and get it back to Glasgae using at least four different stolen cars.

ARCHERY: Each competitor will be given three needles, the winner will be the person who gets nearest to three different main veins in their own body.

DISCUS: Will be decided by which contestant can get a hubcap off a car and throw it to his mate the fastest.

In addition the following 'exhibition event' designed at promoting the local culture will be introduced:

PILLOW EATING: The contestant who can get the most pillow in their mouth after their 18 stone cellmate takes a shine to them will be adjudged the winner.

Seek and You Shall Find

I'm all for sharing the love here in the Blogosphere - that's why there is a whole host of links down the right hand side of this humble outpost of the worldwide interweb, so that I can point you in the direction of some people with writing talent.

And occasionally, visitors to this site follow my advice and head out into uncharted territory in search of new horizons, having arrived here by chance in the first instance.

Last night, at around 1am Greenwich Mean Time, someone from the USA arrived here after searching on AOL for "Jocks & sex blogs". Whoever this person was, they didn't find what they were looking for, and headed off after just 48 seconds.

Where did they go? Well, if Groanin' Jock isn't going to help you get your rocks off, why not try a Straight White Guy.....

Ronson Rant

I don't often call for musicians to be shot for crimes against music.

Sorry, that's a lie - I REGULARLY call for musicians to be shot for crimes against music.

In a world where I was king, Gareth Gates, Westlife and Aqua would all have bitten the dust years back.

But now I'm putting a bounty on the head of Mark Ronson.

If I have to listen to that abomination of a Zutons cover once more, I may be tempted to remove my own frontal lobe with a spoon.

Amy Winehouse's solo version of the same song - fine. She's a bit of a fuck up (like Graham Norton is a bit camp), with the maddest hair I've ever seen outside a 1980s metal band, but she can fairly sing.

But Mark Ronson's faux-Northern Soul horns and beats REALLY annoy me, for reasons I can't entirely fathom.

As for the horrific version of The Smiths' Stop Me that preceded the current single - it's the musical equivalent of slaughtering sacred cows on a temple's doorstep.

My hatred of Ronson was hammered home over the weekend when he appeared on both Soccer AM and that shite cookery programme presented by Tim Lovejoy. He could barely be bothered to show even the slightest interest whilst on either show.

If you don't want to promote your abysmal record, don't subject us to your mumbled nonsense. Hearing the story of how exciting it was to DJ at the Cruise-Holmes wedding twice in as many days was barely bearable. Just finish now Ronson, and spare us the sacrilege of further miserable covers.

Fever Pitch

My inauspicious football career lurched onwards yesterday evening in my company's second match in the Aberdeen Oil League.

A 17-4 defeat obviously isn't anyone's result of choice. And coming on the back of a 12-2 loss, things aren't looking too bright early on.

But I suppose we need to take into account a number of factors: that as a small publishing company, we have only a squad of around 11 players to choose from, whereas our opponents last night were from a multnational oilfield operator, whose Aberdeen offices alone must contain hundreds of employees. That as a team, we'd never played together prior to our first warm-up match a month ago, and that we've never yet fielded a full-strength team.

So last night's performance, whilst tough to take, was an important step forwards. We scored more goals than in any previous match, with four different players hitting the net.

However, these goals came at a price. My first touch of the match saw me turn my marker, and my second saw me lash a shot at goal. But the marker I'd just turned smashed his foot into mine at high speed. My big toe on my left foot is now a lurid shade of purple and has been in agony since it received that kick. And my knee sports a beauty of a bruise sustained in the final minutes as we desperately chased further goals.

So now, to end this post, a question: is there an easy way to tell if your toe is broken?

Wicked

Once again, I am overwhelmed at the wealth of information available on Wikipedia.

A heated email argument amongst myself and three colleagues this afternoon on the facts behind the Champions League three foreigners rule eventually sent all of us scuttling off to the internet in search of clarification.

Lest anyone think that I don't know my facts, I was convinced that the rule applied to all players who weren't born in the country in which they played - and that Rangers' historic unbeaten Champions League campaign of 1992-1993 was made all the more remarkable by the fact that the team was denied the use of several "foreigners", including Englishmen Mark Hateley and Trevor Steven, during the competition. And I was right.

Anyway, the dust has settled, the gloating has been gotten over with and I'm now reading the history of the Champions League on Wikipedia. It always amazes me that the strange people of the worldwide interweb take the time to sit down at their keyboards and share knowledge just for the sake of sharing it.

To me, it sounds like some forgotten age (that may never have existed) when learned men and women did research for research's sake, when knowledge was shared because it might help mankind progress, rather than because it possessed some commercial value.

Admittedly, the history of the Champions League is unlikely ever to advance the development of our species, but the information contained on the Wikipedia page is nothing if not exhaustive.

Except that it isn't. Not quite. No mention was made on the page I read of Rangers' incredible run during my first year of high school. Nor was there any firm description of the three foreigners rule.

But hey, nobody's perfect.

Simpsonized

The Simpsons Movie has been out for months.

I'm well aware of this.

But it's taken me a while to get round to Simpsonizing myself at this website.

Here's the picture of me:

And this is me visiting the Itchy and Scratchy studios:

Pointless? Entirely. Fun? Definitely. I encourage everyone to Simpsonize themselves and give Burger King some free advertising on the Blogosphere while they're at it.

Lost In Translation

As I said in a previous post, I can quite often be found during the working day looking at websites from far-off countries as I research projects overseas.

Quite often, these sites have been translated into English from their mother tongue, and from the translations, the meaning of the original phrase isn't always immediately apparent.

Looking for information on Russian environmental agency Rostekhnadzor, I found this site. I'd ask you all to look at the sixth line down and hazard a guess at what the Russian creators really meant to say....

Voyager

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

Sounds fulfilling.....

Money, It's A Gas

I'm probably risking legal action by posting this, but as it's currently doing the rounds on the worldwide interweb, I thought I'd share it with you strange folks.

Liverpool defender John Arne Riise's pay slip has ended up in the hands of someone who shouldn't have it. And they decided that the best thing to do would be to take a photograph and post it on the net.

So, what do we learn from the document? That Riise earns 120,000 pounds a month - 30,000 a week in popular tabloid terms. That for August 2006, he earned a 250 pound "points bonus" and a tidy 15,000 pound bonus for playing in the Champions League.

We also find out that an average Premiership earner, well below the top dogs like Rooney, Lampard and Gerrard, pays more than 55,000 pounds in tax in an average month. And that, after all deductions, he walks away with more than 82,000 pounds in an average month.

So what do we learn? Absolutely nothing - we already knew that Premiership footballers had far too much money. Nonetheless, Riise and his advisors have launched an investigation to find out how the pay slip became publicly available.

Easy To Ignore

"The leaders of the free world are just little boys throwing stones
And it's easy to ignore until they're knocking on the door of your home"
Leaders of the Free World, Elbow

Watching this video of the Baker underwater nuclear test in 1946, which I discovered courtesy of Videosift, should be enough to prove to anyone that nuclear weapons really aren't all that great an invention.

Yeah, sure, man now has the ability to wipe out all traces of its own species at the push of a button. But maybe that's not such a fantastic power for people like George Bush, Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-il to have.

Chillingly beautiful? Yes it is. Although I'd imagine that if you were on one of the 90 vessels sitting around the blast zone to find out what would happen, you'd probably not be all that excited by the beauty, and just a tad concerned at the massive mushroom cloud enveloping everything in its path.

I'm no pinko lefty peacenik - if Iran has nuclear weapons, it's probably better that we do as well, if only to act as a discouragement. But maybe it'd just be better if all the little boys put their toys back in the cupboard, or - even better - dismantled them.

Back To School

Tish over at The Kat House tagged me for the Blue Tea Meme. Here are the rules:

“Devise a list of 5-10 courses you would take to fix your life. It’s more fun to be in classes with friends, so include one class from the person who tagged you that you’d also like to take. Tag five.”

Here’s my course schedule:

Car Maintenance - I'll join Tish and her tagger Andrew in the Car Maintenance course. Like Tish, the extent of my mechanical knowledge extends as far as testing levels, changing bulbs, replacing tyres and washing. And I don't do any of those as often as I should. So a course in maintaining my own car would save me a lot of money that I'd otherwise spend in garages.

Guitar - I can play guitar, but very badly. I'm very jealous of those people who can pick up an instrument and rattle off half a dozen tunes flawlessly without having to think too much about it. But maybe the fact that I already think I can play guitar would make me too much of an awkward student.

Singing - If I'm going to take the time to learn to play guitar properly, I should really refine my singing voice so that it is actually a voice worth hearing. Again, my deluded belief that I can actually already sing might be an insurmountable hurdle.

English Literature - When I applied to university aged 18, the two options that most appealed were Journalism and English Literature. Although I chose Journalism back then, and have no regrets about having done so, I'd still like to study English Literature at some point in my life. There are too many great books I haven't read yet, and studying them might give me the impetus to start.

French - I studied German at High School and can still hold a basic conversation. But I'd like to be able to speak another language, so I'll go with French - it would make popping across the Channel a bit less taxing.

I'm supposed to tag five people for this meme, but instead of going down that route, how about I just throw it open to anyone who fancies shot. Just remember to link back here if you do decide to go back to school.

Hitting The Mark

A while back, Tish over at The Kat House presented me with the Blogging That Hits The Mark award.

Unfortunately, I've been so busy and short of blogging time that I'd almost forgotten to thank Tish on this humble outpost of the worldwide interweb. And I feel I've been neglecting the site as well, so maybe my blogging ISN'T hitting the mark any more.

Anyway, as well as presenting me with the award, Tish has also reviewed this blog over at her other site, BlogsWeLuv. Besides her very kind review, Tish also thoughtfully posted a terrible photograph of me posing with a statue of John Lennon outside the Cavern Club in Liverpool - thanks Tish!

Of Mice and Morlocks

I think I've found my ideal job.

I want to be an Evolutionary Theorist.

News on the BBC's website today tells us that Oliver Curry, who fills that role at the London School of Economics, predicts that in 1,000 years' time, mankind will have evolved into a 7ft-tall, muscular master race with symetrical faces, big penises (or penii) and pert breasts (note: most of the master race won't have both a big penis and pert breasts).

But, 100,000 years down the line, mankind will have grown so over-reliant on technology that the species will split into two distinct factions - just as HG Wells predicted more than 100 years ago in The Time Machine.

I'm not sure how much an Evolutionary Theorist gets paid for working at the London School of Economics, but I'm willing to bet it's a pretty penny. And it sounds like money for old rope - sit around reading 100-year-old science fiction, rename the two tribes, add a little bit of impossible-to-prove-or-disprove "theorising" and pass the whole caboodle off as an exciting prediction of the future of our species.

By the time we reach the year 3,000, Curry will be long dead and won't care whether his theories were right or wrong.

And by the year 100,000, we'll all just be floating brains that plug into the universal mainframe each night to listen to Elvis and The Beatles, whilst the dolphins do all the menial tasks like emptying bins and delivering the mail.

That's my theory. When do I start my new job?

The Horror....

Possibly the worst Google search to have brought someone to this site happened yesterday.



At 2.22:22pm, someone from Teterow, Germany, dropped in after searching for "shitting wifes".



Whatever floats your boat you strange German freak.....

Five Things

The atomic fuckload of work I was landed with several weeks ago hasn't diminished much, so instead of a 'proper' post, I'll take part in the Five Things meme that I spotted over at Misssy's site. Feel free to play along too.

What were you doing ten years ago?
1) Getting to grips with studying for five highers - English, Maths, Physics, Computing and Modern Studies. Ended up with an A, two Bs, a C and a D. I shouldn't have done Maths.
2) Working part-time for a computer company in Brechin. Which is where I met Eric, better known to you strange folk of the worldwide interweb as the Straight White Guy.
3) Willing Rangers towards a tenth consecutive league title. Unfortunately, it just wasn't to be.
4) Listening to Radiohead's OK Computer, Oasis' Be Here Now, The Seahorses' Do It Yourself, Ian Brown's Unfinished Monkey Business, Supergrass' In It For The Money, The Charlatans' Tellin' Stories, The Verve's Urban Hymns and Ocean Colour Scene's Marchin' Already. 1997 was a great year for music, the best in my music-loving lifetime.
5) Playing too much Championship Manager 2.

What were you doing one year ago?
1) Working for a local newspaper in Argyll. It's easy now to forget that my time in that job meant working every second weekend, which I hated. I'm glad I made the change.
2) Enjoying married life - Mrs Wife and I tied the knot in May 2006.
3) Immersing myself in Lost - which I then thought was the greatest TV show EVER.
4) Training with Lochgilphead Red Star Amatuer Football Club. My poor fitness levels let me down - I'd give a much better account of myself now.
5) Playing too much Football Manager 2007.

Five songs you know the lyrics to
1) Happy Birthday - probably the first song everyone learns, isn't it?
2) Bohemian Rhapsody - Mither listened to A LOT of Queen when I was a wee laddie. I'm sure I know the whole of their Greatest Hits by heart.
3) Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier - the first song my band, Merge, ever played live, back in 1997. I was lead singer and practically petrified with fear.
4) Here It Comes - the Doves song is one of three I want played at my funeral.
5) I Am The Walrus - it may be John Lennon at his nonsensical best, but I can faultlessly sing along with this psychedelic magnus opus.

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
1) Quit my job immediately. There's be no four weeks' notice either. I'd be gone.
2) Pay off my mortgage, student loan and credit card bill. There's no point in having unneccesary debt.
3) Buy a new car, but probably nothing too flash. A nice BMW, Audi or Volkswagen would be just fine.
4) Go back to New York for a few weeks and stay in a hotel rather than the backpacking hostel we stayed in on our previous visit.
5) Buy a state-of-the-art home cinema system and a Rangers season ticket. If I'm a millionaire, I'm going to enjoy life.

Five bad habits
1) Swearing. I know I should stop, but I can't. Anyway, swearing makes you look clever, hard and cool.
2) Playing Football Manager. Maybe it is slightly excessive, but it's my favourite way to relax.
3) Being lazy. Spending your whole time rushing around just means you're more tired at the end of the day.....
4) Driving in excess of the speed limit. You'd think speeding fines on two continents would stop me, wouldn't you?
5) Abusing my work-based internet access. Ahem.

Five things you like to do
1) Eat chocolate. Well, it tastes better than celery.
2) Listen to music. I don't spend enough time doing this any more.
3) Play football. I'm quite happy just having a kick-about with friends - the prospect of getting up early on a Sunday morning to get kicked around a wet field in the pishing rain doesn't appeal much nowadays.
4) Lie in and get up when I'm ready. Instead of having to leap out of bed in darkness when my alarm goes off at 6.15am.
5) Play Football Manager 2008. Surely you were expecting that one?

Five things you will never wear again
1) Make-up. That's a different story for a different day.
2) A silver mini-skirt. See above
3) Thong sandals. Anything that goes BETWEEN my toes is a no-no.
4) White socks with ANYTHING other than sportswear.
5) A vest. I hereby promise NEVER to wear a vest.

Five favourite toys
1) My laptop
2) Sky TV
3) My MP3 player
4) My hard disk TV recorder
5) My Acergy stress ball that I chuck around at work

Five things you hate to do
1) Get up at 6.15am and go to work
2) Mow the lawn
3) Clean the oven
4) Work in the evening or at the weekend
5) Miss an episode of Lost or Heroes

Easy

Rangers' 3-0 win over the Mhanky Mhob on Saturday was more convincing than I think most people would have predicted beforehand.

The Ibrox side's domestic form has been patchy this season, having included defeats to both Edinburgh sides even at this early stage. But it was the Gers' impressive European form that was most apparent in the first Old Firm encounter of the season, with Rangers looking by far the more dangerous team when attacking.

Alan Hutton's form this season has been nothing short of magnificent, and his game has improved immeasurably since the last campaign. It is now inconceivable to imagine a full-strength Scotland squad without Hutton bombing down the wing, a feature of his game that has emerged most dramatically in Rangers' Champions League ties against Lyon and Stuttgart.

Alongside Barry Ferguson, Carlos Cuellar and Nacho Novo, Hutton dominated against Celtic, making the champions look very ordinary in the process.

Perhaps the biggest talking point in the days to come will be the lack of grace shown by the away side in defeat. Scott MacDonald was lucky still to be on the pitch even as early as half-time, as his lashing out at Alan McGregor in the first five minutes could have warranted a straight red card. Similarly, Scott Brown, Gary Caldwell and Artur Boruc failed to cover themselves in glory, as did Rangers' McGregor in a late melee.

Celtic should be most concerned by Boruc's conduct, not least because he has previous form in this fixture and in others. Notwithstanding his infantile conduct in Old Firm matches, his performances on the pitch are notoriously erratic, and could cost Celtic valuable points over the course of the season.

Which, from my point of view, sounds just fine.

Dressed To Impress

In the course of my day-to-day work, I frequently have to look at websites relating to international oil and gas developments.

Doing a bit of research into a project in Angola, I found the wonderful photograph above, taken at a "blessing ceremony" for the project.

If this photograph is supposed to encourage investment in Angola, I'm pretty sure it sails fairly wide of the mark.

Between the five cheery wee souls seen here, not one of them could be arsed to crack a smile. Maybe that's unfair - we've all been caught out by the photographer pressing the button at the wrong time, making us look like we've struggling with a troublesome case of constipation when, in fact, we're merely "between smiles".

But even if these guys were caught unawares, their dress sense is astonishing. Before anyone points it out, I know downtown Luanda isn't exactly Paris, New York or London.
But none of these guys is dressed like any of the others.

Take the guy on the left - blue boiler suit, and pencil tucked into his breast pocket. So he's probably an engineer, and dressed in an appropriate fashion.

But the next guy along obviously thinks he's a gangster. Unfortunately, his look is let down bu the fact that he's wearing plastic sunglasses and an un-ironed shirt.

Next to him, we have Patrick Trueman from Eastenders. Times have obviously been hard in the Trueman household since he was robbed and left for dead, but he's determined to keep going, even with a battered hat, ill-matching shirt and tie combo and trousers pulled up to his nipples.

Then we've got former Leeds United defender Michael Duberry. He may have been an England international at one point, but now he's slumming it in Angola, wearing a shirt fashioned out of a pair of curtains. THAT's how far Leeds have fallen.

But the award for best dressed nutter at the blessing ceremony goes to the attractive gentleman on the far right of the shot. Given that this is a blessing ceremony, I'm guessing he's some kind of witch doctor or holy man. Back in the glory days of his profession, he'd have been wearing a loin cloth fashioned from rhino hide, a necklace of peacock feathers and a hat made from a human skull.

However, in these more modern and civil times, he's reduced to wearing a charity shop polo shirt, a hideous blue tablecloth and a fake Man Utd tammy, worn in an inventive "Wee Willy Winky" style.

It's rare that I can consider myself well-dressed, but I think a visit to Angola would probably just about swing it.

A Rose By Any Other Name

As seen over at Ramblings From A Blue Dot - what would my name be in different circumstances?

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) Pepi Clio. Sounds more French house or gay disco than rock'n'roll, doesn't it?

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) Toffee Raspberry-White Chocolate. Doesn't that make me sound REALLY hard?

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) M-RAE. Maybe G-JOC sounds better.

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) Blue Dog. Not really up there with Poirot, Marple or Clouseau, is it?

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) I don't have a middle name.... Surname would be Dundee though. So let's go with Mick Dundee. You can call me Crocodile.

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) Rae Ma. That's Darth Ma to you.

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink) The Black Cointreau. Could be worse I suppose, although I'd be named after an orange liqeur.

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) George David. I've no idea what a NASCAR name would be used for (presumably something to do with NASCAR racing), but it sounds fine.

9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) Joop Lindor. Yeah, that'll bring in the punters.

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ) Atkin William. Or William Atkin. The second way is probably better for anonymity's sake.

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) Guthrie Grenoble. I don't know why I thought of Grenoble before Glasgow, but I'm glad I did. "This is the Channel 5 weather with Guthrie Grenoble". I like the sound of that.

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) Summer Snowdrop. That makes me sound like a My Little Pony.

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + "ie" or "y") Strawberry Shirty. Sounds like a pretty crap cartoon.

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) Cereal Chestnut. That's not great, man.

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”) The Football Manager Lightning Tour. I'd get sued by Sega for that one.

What Next?

Some days, I can't think of anything to write here at this humble and far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb.

Then there are some days, like today, when I could write about any number of things, but none of them grabs me by the goolies (metaphorically and literally speaking).

Today, I could write about how Scotland are still top of the Group of Death, ahead of both World Cup finalists and fresh from a 3-1 mauling of Ukraine at Fortress Hampden. How a team that five years ago was a pitiful laughing stock has somehow risen to become one of the best in Europe, on recent form and group standings at least.

Or I could write about how Dungroanin' was invaded by three of Mrs Wife's friends at the weekend, so that the rooms became a flutter of hair straighteners, outfit changes and gallons of wine.

I could write about how I've just downloaded Radiohead's new album from the internet and how it represents a brave new world in music - allowing the consumer to set their own price for the music they purchase. I've paid a fiver for the album, and I'll be interested to see how it compares to some of their recent patchy efforts.

But instead, I'll leave you with Darth Vader's hidden talent, courtesy of Neatorama:

Gaunnae Get Me Sumthin Good Fur Ma Burthday?

A touch of retail genius from Scotland's west coast, in the Haddows branch on Copland Road, Ibrox, Glasgow (home of the Famous Glasgow Rangers).

Yes folks, it's the Buckfast, 20 Mayfair and packet of Rizla "gift pack", for the ned who wants to say "I love you" in that unique, carcinogenic and liver-rotting way that flowers and chocolates just can't muster.

What's Wally Wearing?

This morning, shortly after 4.30am, someone from Australia arrived at this website having searched on Google for "What colour socks does Where's Wally wear?".

Aside from being a semi-tongue twister, it's a good question - why don't we know what colour socks the world's best hide-and-seek player wears? Red and white tammy, Hamilton Accies jersey, blue drainpipes, brown shoes, bulging backpack and walking stick - but what of Wally's underwear situation?

I demand answers....

To The Highest Bidder

Today, to pass a few idle web-based minutes, I dropped in on Ebay, the world's online car boot sale.

Ignoring my usual haunts of the CD, DVD, computers and sportwear sections, I threw caution to the wind and ventured into the uncharted territories of the "Other" section.

Considering that almost everything you can imagine fits neatly into one of Ebay's thousands of existing categories, for something to slip between the cracks is quite impressive. Or so you would have thought.

But there are hundreds of pages of miscellaneous rubbish being touted by the strange denizens of the worldwide interweb.

Amongst the tempting items on offer when I looked today were a bag of reindeer food (which, having read the listing, includes glitter - that must be what makes reindeer fly and shit silver stuff).

One inventive chap simply offered to sell you something worth the same amount of money you send him. Send him one single penny, and you get something worth a penny. Send him 30,000 pounds, you supposedly get something worth 30,000 pounds.

And another web-based emporium sold bondage ropes in a variety of colours and lengths, obviously intended for the more discerning pervert.

Unfortunately, I didn't come across anyone trying to sell their virginity, their wife or themselves. I say unfortunately, but to be honest, I'm not looking to acquire a virginity (I had a hard enough time shifting the first one I owned), a wife (the one I already have is costing quite enough on her own without an assistant) or another human being (unless they want to clean the bathroom and cut the grass).

But it's got me thinking - what could I sell to make some money? I reckon that I could sell the rights for any football team in the world to sign my first son. Admittedly, the complete lack of Jocklings means that I wouldn't be able to deliver my side of the bargain for a long time yet. But surely having first option on an UNBORN superstar would be worth a million or so to Barcelona, Manchester United or AC Milan?

I will discuss the idea with Mrs Wife and report back.

Walt Disnae Like That

How to get a life ban from Disney World in one easy step (or two easy steps anyway):

Lyrics Revealed

Answers to the sixth and final Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge are now in the comments on that post.

A Question

Is an orange called an orange because it is orange?

Or is the colour orange named orange because it is the colour of an orange?

Don and Dusted

Rangers have seen off the French and German champion, Celtic have beaten the European Champions (and one of their "fans" has taken a girly swing at the goalkeeper) and our national side is riding high above the World and European Champions.

Yep, Scottish football has forgotten it's supposed to be pish. Obviously a 3-0 away win against Kings of Lyon is more impressive than a last-gasp home win over lowly AC Milan, but I'll eschew any gloating - it's been a good month to be a Scottish football fan.

So can the dandy Dons complete a hat-trick tonight? In footballing terms, an away win over Dnipro would be great. But I hope they don't - I've got money on the Ukrainians, as it's a great way to wind up the hordes of Dons fans in my office.

At the time I place the bet, it seemed like an easy way to win money. Just wish I'd had the balls to bet on Rangers to beat Lyon in France....

On The List

Today, to pass a slow afternoon at work, two colleagues and I engaged in a lively debate on Top Five Hottest Female Soap Stars of All Time. (This discourse was similar in structure to our semi-regular debates on the All-Time Best Football XI.)

Anyway, as an overview of the general standard of the discussion, my decision to leave Kylie Minogue and Kimberley Davies out of my list raised some eyebrows, and we stepped off on a lengthy tangent as we debated whether Baywatch was a soap opera or not.

Having exhausted our mental lists of soap actresses, we threw the game wide open and changed it into The Ten Hottest Women In The World Today.

I'll spare you the gory details of the inner mental workings of three bored men in their mid 20s, other than to say that Eva Longoria is one man's pocket-sized Latina sex goddess and another man's irritating midget clothes horse.

But eventually, we reached the defining question of our debate - Britney Spears: Yay or Nay?

Do you shut your eyes and remember the Slave For U years? Or are you mentally scarred at the prospect of making Buckasaurus (the mythical grunting beast with two backs) with a drink and drug-addled, tattooed skinhead thug who's recently had their children taken away?

If I remember the discussion correctly, Mrs Federline received a unanimous thumbs down from the panel. Which, considering she's 26 and should therefore still be at her peak, is a depressing indication of how far she's fallen from grace in the past five years.

And the whole "remember the glory years" debate truly reached its nadir shortly afterwards when, returning to the soap stars theme, one member of the party (who shall remain nameless) uttered the words (electronically at least) Barbara. Windsor. - basing his justification on Carry on Camping.

That, dear readers, is why you should never allow young men to get bored.

Hollywood Schmollywood

A while back, I added a post that linked to Ten Things Hollywood Thinks Computers Can Do.

And that got me thinking: what other barely believable crap do we put up with in our movies?

So I started drawing up a little list, which I like to think (in my own muddle-headed, delirious and dream-like fashion) will build up into a substantial compendium of nonsense peddled by directors over in LALA Land.

Here are a few for starters:

1) It is possible to have a high speed car chase during daylight hours in any city on Earth.
I've never driven in London, LA or New York, but I have driven in Melbourne, Perth, Adelaide, Edinburgh and Glasgow (not to mention on roads in Thailand - but that's a scarier post for another day). It is not possible, in the centre of any of those cities, to drive at anything above 20mph. In most of them, most of the time you're barely moving at all. So how is it therefore possible to drive at speeds in excess of 60mph in any of the world's major Metropolises? (Should that be Metropolii?) If you drove that fast in any city on Earth during the day, you and countless other people would be dead very quickly. And your car would be extremely dead as well.

2) It is possible to knock someone out with one punch. OK, this may actually be possible. But, having worked in some pretty boisterous pubs on two continents and as a security guard at football matches, I've still never seen it happen. And, from what I've seen of movies, it mostly happens to minor villains, the type of muscled goons that Big Bosses use to man doors and guard prisoners. Now, it strikes me that if your sole job requirement is to be hard and menacing, ending up out cold after one punch would be a major hinderance to your long-term career plans.

3) Simultaneous orgasms happen every time a couple has sex. Let's just leave that one be....

4) 28-year-old women who look like Denise Richards are Nuclear Physicists. I'm not saying breasted humans can't be nuclear physicists. Or that scientists can't be good looking. Just that I would imagine that if you're a nuclear physicist experienced enough to be dismantling warheads in Kazakhstan, you're probably not 28.Or female. Or good-looking. Or called Christmas Jones. You're a 45-year-old man with a beard. Called Neil. (The 45-year-old man that is, not his beard.)

5) Sarah Jessica Parker is attractive. Need I say more?

Feel free to add to this list of Hollywood absurdities - there are plenty more to choose from....

Return of The Mark

I'm back. Not only back, but holidayed out. I swear, I'm more tired now that I'm back at work than I was before I headed off on holiday.

Anyway, what did I get up to? Played football a couple of times, including featuring in my company's debut in the Aberdeen Oil and Gas League at the local five-a-side centre. We've joined at the end of the season to replace a side that dropped out. That is the first excuse for our 22-0 defeat. Others include the fact that we've never played together as a team before, the team we played are about to be crowned champions for the fifth time in six years, our goalkeeper was missing and we played an injured non-goalkeeper in goals. The fact of the matter is that we were "only" 3-0 down at half-time, which in five-a-side terms is a pretty slender margin. And we conceded what felt like an atomic fuckload of goals in the last five minutes as we desperately chased a strike of our own. But yeah, 22-0 is a pretty horrific debut.

Prior to that, Mrs Wife and I visited the central belt to catch up with some friends, visit Stirling Castle and venture down to the Falkirk Wheel for the first time. The wheel is pretty special, another triumph of Scottish engineering, designed to lift boats from one level of a canal to another. The sun shone and we enjoyed an hour-long boat ride, so a good day was had by all.

We entertained Mrs Wife's parents in the latter part of the week, allowing them to sample the hospitality at Dungroanin' for the first time.

And on Friday night we attended a comedy night in Montrose, where we were thoroughly entertained by Patrick Rollink, Des McLean, Joe Heenan and Des Clarke, all stars of the Scottish comedy circuit. A slight over-indulgence on alcoholic beverages during the performance left me in a fragile condition come Saturday, so I've spent the time since then recuperating and preparing for a return to work.

Apologies to my fellow inhabitants of the blogosphere, as I've not been able to keep up with your sites as well as I would like. Whilst I was away, Ian over at Or So I Thought kindly presented me with the Awesome Dude Blogger award, which is given out to those of us who can tick the boxes beside "Blogger", "Awesome" and "Y Chromosome".

I'm extremely grateful to have received the award, especially from Ian, whose blog is one of the best I've encountered - an incredibly informative and entertaining site written with a great deal of skill and knowledge.

In this spirit of dudeness, I should really pass the award on, so I'll pick out three awesome dudes from my own blogroll: Eric (the Straight White Guy who is also my blogfather); Elisson and The Tomahawk Kid. May you venture forwards and enjoy their sites.

Fecking Computers

I'm in a frenzy of excitement here in the Dungroanin' sitting room at the moment.

The reason for this excitement? Sega has released the demo version of Football Manager 2008, which I am currently downloading.

Only there's a problem. My steam-driven laptop is notorious for freezing completely, leaving no option but to turn off the power and reboot.

And, having reached the 30% mark in the 523MB download, this antique piece of crap decided to take a rest, forcing me to switch it off and back on. And cancelling the download in the process.

So I've started again. And at a download speed of less than 30k per second, it's going to take a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time.

The download manager is estimating that it will take a further five hours to finish downloading. So, from 6pm tonight, you can expect no further communications from this humble outpost of the worldwide interweb for a while....

Who Answers?

I'm still alive and still on holiday, which I hope will explain, if not excuse, the lack of postage here at this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb.

Visits to the central belt, visits to Dungroanin' by Mrs Wife's faither and mither, two games of football and repairs to a car have limited the free time available to yours' truly, but I'll be back soon, promise....

Anyway, to pass some time, here's a good reason why Lego is STILL the coolest toy in the world:

Bill Gates Could Be A Terrorist

Seeing as how no-one fancied stepping into my shoes and contributing to this webs(h)ite over the next few days, I'll leave you with this little funny courtesy of Cracked.com.

Five Things Hollywood Thinks Computers Can Do - my personal favourite is Independence Day's Mac-compatible alien civilisation....

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....

The Sixth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

For the first time, more than half of the tunes in the Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge were correctly identified. Misssy led the way with two correct answers, after The Tomahawk Kid had recognised Motorhead's Ace of Spades. Answers to that quiz are now in the comments on the post.

Here are this week's lyrics. The object of the game is to identify the artists and tracks plucked at random from the Magic Tune Box. Answers in the comments. No Googling.

1: I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter, but I thought a song would probably be a little better.

2: I know how you want it, hot, sweet, and tight. The girls can't stand it when you're doin' it right.

3: Now my advice for those who die, declare the pennies on your eyes.

4: Why don't you kneel me down, why don't we try, try, try?

5: And I know it's getting harder for you to choose - who will lie?

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.

The Naked Footballer

You know that feeling you get when you see something you wished you hadn't, and long for the ability to unsee it or claw your own eyes out?

I've got a similar feeling at the moment - except, because I've been forced to think of something, I wish I could yank my own brain out through my nose or ear, so that I never have to think of it again.

Yesterday afternoon, someone arrived at this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb having searched on Google for "naked pictures of Ian Durrant Rangers".

Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh! The pain - make it stop.

Mobile Madness

Oh the joys of predictive text messaging on my mobile phone.

Yesterday, I attempted to send the following message to a friend:

"I'm on holiday all week, so free any time"

Which my mobile thoughtfully translated to:

"I'm on holiday all week, so free boy time"

Which is a completely different message entirely, I'm sure you'll agree....

Quizzical Education

Tonight, in an effort to forge bonds between co-workers where there were no bonds before, our company is holding a quiz night.

My team of four, which includes Mrs Wife, one of my colleagues and his own Mrs Wife, will be up against everyone else from the office as we attempt to prove we're the brainiest of the lot. (In fact, all we should be aiming for is to avoid finishing last).

A quick spell of random questions this morning between myself and my colleague proved one thing - I don't know half as much as I thought I did, and I know considerably less than I did when I was a kid.

As a teenager, I represented the whole of the Brechin area in the Masterkid of Angus competition. And whilst at high school, I appeared on Radio Tay several times as a member of our school's quiz team. (Good God, why didn't anyone tell me to STOP BEING A GEEK!)

Back then, I think I had a pretty good grasp of 'general knowledge' - ie, loads of useless crap that somehow lodged itself in my brain.

But I'm finding that nowadays, that crap doesn't stick as well as it used to. Maybe it's because I have to work for a living and remember relevant facts about the oil industry, not to mention deadlines, which reports I should be working on, which databases I need to update and the like. Or maybe I just don't have the time to sit and read newspapers and magazines the way I used to, devouring information for information's sake.

These days, when I get home from work, I'm quite content to sit in front of the television or play computer games. And no-one ever won a general knowledge quiz through their ability to recall the plotlines from Lost, or the best players in Football Manager 2007.

Or perhaps I'm just getting stupider. Brain cells die and are never replaced - that's a fact of life. And as my head fills with new knowledge, such as information about mortgage rates, the price of fuel and the ins and outs of squirrel sex, maybe there's just no room in my head to remember which is the most common element on Earth (it's hydrogen) or what the Rolling Stones' first single was (I Wanna Be Your Man).

I'm sure we'll found out this evening.

Soundtrack of My Life

Each month, Mojo magazine interviews three celebrities or musicians for its All Back To My Place page, asking the same questions each month. I figured I'd prepare my answers just in case they ask me for the next issue.

What music are you currently grooving to?
I don't know if it can be classed as "grooving", but I'm listening to The Enemy's debut album We'll Live and Die In These Towns a lot. It reminds me of The Jam, in a kind of vitriolic, call-to-arms, sound of the suburbs sort of way. Nowadays, I listen to music most when I'm driving to and from work, but I have a car share, so I tend not to subject her to anything too outrageous or loud. I'm also waiting for my copy of Hard Fi's Once Upon A Time In The West to be delivered.

What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album?
The Stone Roses' debut album has been my favourite album since I was about 18. I can't really put into words what it is that makes it so important: the whole package transcends the individual songs and the individual players. But the opening rumble of I Wanna Be Adored, the psychedelic punk of Made of Stone and the epic closer I Am The Resurrection are enough in themselves to make it the greatest record of all time.

What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?
It was the soundtrack to the movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on cassette from John Menzies in Dundee (now replaced by a Tesco Metro) in 1990 or 1991. I'm always surprised when rock stars are interviewed and asked what their first record was, and they say The Jam, or The Beatles, or The Sex Pistols. I went through a long phase of liking shite pop music, a phase I call "being a kid". Kids don't buy Sex Pistols records - they buy novelty records, movie soundtracks and pop. Anyway, the soundtrack to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles included the awesome T-U-R-T-L-E Power by Partners In Kryme, This Is What We Do by MC Hammer and 9.95 by Spunkadelic, all of which I have recently downloaded from the internet. I think I might still have the original tape hidden away in either Mither's or Faither's loft.

Which musician have you ever wanted to be?
Anyone who can play an instrument. I envy people who can pick up an acoustic guitar and rattle off five or six songs faultlessly to entertain a roomful of people. I'd love to be able to play drums like Dave Grohl, bass like Flea or guitar like John Squire.

What do you sing in the shower?
I always used to sing in the shower, but nowadays I get up at 6.15am, which means that I tend not to, for two reasons:
a) 6.15am is not a "singing in the shower" time of day
b) The bathroom at Dungroanin' is en suite, and Mrs Wife would probably not care too much for being woken up at 6.15am by me running through a medley of Super Furry Animals songs.
On the occasions when I do sing, I find that Elvis songs sound great in the shower, as the cubicle makes my voice, which is quite deep (especially when I'm tired), echo. So I'm quite partial to belting out Devil In Disguise and Suspicious Minds. I also like singing Reef's Naked, for someone reason that I haven't been able to fathom, but which may well be Freudian.

What is your favourite Saturday night record?
If it's one record that I'll put on before going out, it's The Stone Roses' debut album, cranked right up so that the bass rattles the windows. I have to listen to the whole thing, finishing with the instrumental at the end of I Am The Resurrection. However, in this age of CD burners and MP3 players, it's all too easy to make up a playlist especially for Saturday nights. When I was at university, my flatmate and I made a going out CD that included Primal Scream's Kill All Hippies, Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, The White Room by Cream and White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane, amongst others. No-one else liked it, but we thought it was ace.

And your Sunday morning record?
I tend not to listen to music on Sunday mornings, but when I do, it can be almost anything. A bit of Motown can start the day nicely, as can The Beatles. Probably not Metallica, Motorhead or Probot though.


I know many of you can't stand memes, but if you want to play along, feel free. I'd be especially interested to hear how The Tomahawk Kid and Erica would answer.

The Fifth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

Time for an update on the non-famous game no-one is waiting for.

Misssy was the only entrant in the Fourth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge, correctly spotting some of Morrissey's finest non-Smiths lyrics. Answers are now in the comments for that post.

So here's the next batch of words for this unheralded worldwide interweb-based game of "Name that tune".

It's easy to play: identify the song and artist chosen at random by the Magic Tune Box from the lyrics given. Post your answers in the comments. No Googling!

1: I'm rich, like a hot noise.

2: Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil, going with the flow, it's all the same to me.

3: Where have you gone again my sweet? Everybody wants to know.

4: The crap rolls out your mouth again, haven't changed, your brain is still gelatin.

5: Out on a limb in the carnival of me, raising the temperature 100 degrees.

10,000 Maniacs

Shortly after 9.30pm last night, the 10,000th visitor crossed the threshold here at Groanin' Jock.

Anyone who's been paying attention will know that this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb was a year old last week, so it's taken just over a year for you hardy souls to venture out here 10,000 times.

It wasn't one of my regular readers who reached this momentuous landmark, but someone from Germany looking for a picture of Uluru.

Thanks to everyone who bothers to check back here now and again. Here's to the next 10,000 visitors.

C'est Magnifique

I know I said that no further comment on last night's events was necessary, but I couldn't resist it:

0-1 McFadden
Uploaded by manu1400

France 0 - 1 Scotland

I need say nothing more.

Nerd Herd

I've got a stinking cold and an atomic fuckload of work to do, so in lieu of a proper post, I'm just going to prove that I am a nerd, courtesy of a quiz I encountered over at Blog d'Elisson.




A slightly dorky nerd king? Hey, at least that's better than being a nerd wannabe....

Lost Classics II: The Music - The Music

Briefly, at the start of the 21st Century, a handful of British bands threatened to throw off the shackles of Britpop and emerge as heirs to the thrones recently vacated by Blur, Oasis, Suede and Pulp.

Starsailor, Turin Brakes, Alfie and The Cooper Temple Clause were all bestowed with the tag of "the next big thing". And, for one reason or another, none truly ascended to the level which had been predicted of them.

Amongst those bands were The Music. Four teenage upstarts from Leeds, their sound was a mix of The Stone Roses' early guitar somersaults, heavy beats and Robert Harvey's high-pitched rock howl.

All 1,000 copies of the band's vinyl-only debut single Take The Long Road and Walk It sold out almost instantly. The song encapsulated The Music's sound in one five-minute burst: one scintillating guitar riff backed by a disco beat and Harvey's screaming, barely-decipherable vocal.

The single was followed by the You Might As Well Try To Fuck Me EP and The People EP, both of which suggested that a classic debut album was in the offing.

But, when debut album The Music arrived, it was distinctly underwhelming. (As an aside, is it strictly true that if an album has no title, it is simply given the name of the band that recorded it? Or should it just remain untitled and be referred to as "the band's debut album"?)

The first disappointment was in the track listing. Neither You Might As Well Try To Fuck Me - a great, rollocking, rock'n'roll tune - nor electronic masterpiece Karma was included on the record - a terrible oversight on both counts.

But the biggest travesty was in the production. Live, The Music are powerful performers, the rhythm section to the fore and Harvey breakdancing and bodypopping between lines. However, on the album, the production is muddy and fails to bring any of these aspects to the fore.

Listening to the album on the way into work this morning, I had to crank the car stereo up way beyond its normal setting just to hear what was happening. On a record that could have had a huge aural impact, that's inexcusable.

Setting aside the production gripes, the quality in the songwriting is plain to hear. An inferior, re-recorded version of Take The Long Road and Walk It is included, with the closing slide guitar refrain masked by unnecessary layers of guitar. The track follows opener The Dance, which stands as one of the record's strongest moments. Glacier-like walls of guitar open, to be joined by a Harvey mantra and delicate cymbal taps. Then, almost a minute in, the bass thunders in and the band is off at a gallop. Of all the tracks on the album, it is The Dance that is most reminiscent of The Stone Roses, and it is the track on which the band sounds most confident.

Elsewhere, there are hints at what the record could have amounted to in different hands. Human, which follows Take The Long Road and Walk It, fails to properly test the band's strengths, relying on guitarist Adam Nutter's best John Squire impression to carry a weaker than expected Harvey vocal.

Stand out track from the record is The Truth Is No Words, a furious bass groove combined with Harvey's most absorbing vocal. And it is on moments like these that it becomes most apparent that poor production severely limited what should have stood as a landmark record.

Part of the record's problem is that the band sometimes can't seem to decide whether they want to write a dance record, a rock record or an acoustic record. When they weld the guitar histrionics to the disco beats, such as on Float, The People or Getaway, they are peerless. When settling into a slower-paced ballad such as on Turn Out The Light, they fail to capture the imagination.

As it opens, Disco could almost be vintage Black Sabbath, so towering is its riff and assured its vocal. Two minutes in, the band accelerates into a Led Zeppelin rock storm and Harvey is given free reign to indulge his inner rock god. But, instead of using the track to close what could have been an outstanding record, the band follows it with the ponderous Too High.

Whilst Elastica's The Menace could never have been considered a classic by any stretch of the imagination, The Music's debut record should have been. The strength and tightness of the band and the quality of their songwriting could have seen them elevated immediately to the rock'n'roll A-list, their debut sitting comfortably alongside Definitely Maybe, The Stone Roses and A Storm In Heaven.

Instead, it merely hints at what might have been.

The Fourth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

What with all the hubub and hooha over the last week, I completely forgot to post the answers to the The Third Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge. The answers are now in the comments on that post.

And now, here's the fourth instalment in the quiz that no-one is waiting for....

It's simple - identify the songs from which these lyrics are taken. Post the answers in the comments. No Googling!

1: Reggie Kray - do you know my name ? Oh, don't say you don't.

2: She's got hair down to her fanny. She's kinda jet set, try undo her panties.

3: If I don't last this one tell them when I've gone, that playing with you was incredible fun.

4: What can you say, millions apart and miles away.

5: The stiller the oxygen the harder you breathe, the draining away just like an old man's dream.

What's Up Doc?

Can anyone guess what Mrs Wife and I brought home with us last weekend?

Bearing in mind that we were at a music festival, the obvious answers are:

a) Two tonnes of genuine Inveraray Castle mud

b) Stinking hangovers

c) A car boot full of food that we took with us and never got around to eating

d) An unusual disease unseen in Western Europe since World War I.

In truth, we may have returned from deepest, darkest Argyll with the first three (maybe the fourth as well - you never can tell), but the most important thing to arrive back in the comparative metropolis of Montrose with Mr and Mrs GJ was....

....wait for it, it's good....

....a rabbit.

Yes, a genuine, living, breathing, shitting, rabbit.

Mrs Wife decided long ago that our lives weren't complete without something small and furry to clean up after. And, following a recent trip to an Aberdeen pet emporium, set her heart on a rabbit - a house rabbit no less. (How one trains a rabbit to do its business in a litter tray is anyone's guess, and Mrs Wife's problem.)

I've never had a proper pet before. Back when I was a wee laddie, Faither was a gamekeeper, and always had at least three dogs to assist in various hunting activities. But as they were working dogs, and therefore employees, they had to live in staff quarters, namely kennels outside. This was probably best for practical reasons - have you ever tried to eat your dinner when watched by two labradors, two spaniels, a Jack Russell and two border terriers? And also because working dogs stink.

Anyway, I digress. Dungroanin's smallest bedroom has a new lodger, going by the name of Pepper. Her name was going to be something else entirely during the two days when Mrs Wife thought she was a boy (the rabbit that is, not Mrs Wife), but a quick trip to the vet ascertained that Pepper is and always will be a girl.

The first few days living with this black bundle of fur have been entertaining, for want of a better word. To begin with, she was terrified of us, hiding permanently in the bed box at the back of her cage. But, left to her own devices to explore Dungroanin', she's gradually coming out of her shell. She's still at the stage where she'll bolt if she suspects that someone wants to touch her, hold her, pick her up or prise her gums open in an effort to stick a syringe in her mouth to facilitate the administration of antibiotics (I think I'm probably with her on that point).

So hopefully, as she settles into the laidback lifestyle at Dungroanin', she'll start to earn her keep by doing useful little tasks around the house, like fetching beer from the kitchen.

And if not, she'll make a lovely stew.

(If you're reading this Mrs Wife - THAT WAS A JOKE!)

Rumours of My Demise....

....Are greatly exaggerated.

Seeing as how it's been a week since I last spouted some nonsense on these hallowed pages, I guess an update is well overdue.

Thanks to all those who thought to check I was still alive (well, Erica did anyway). It's been a pretty hectic week, all in all.

The festival was as good as I expected it to be, although a tad quieter than both myself and the organisers had anticipated. The highlight of the weekend for me were Primal Scream, who rattled through a furious greatest hits set.

Seth Lakeman played a great hoe-down set in front of a receptive audience doing a drunken Strip The Willow in the mud, the Super Furry Animals managed to include Power Rangers helmets and crisp eating into their repertoire, and Teenage Fanclub showed everyone why they should have been the biggest band in the world.

Bjork's set wavered between out-of-key Icelandic yelping backed by a fluorescent horn section to a spectacular laser light show during the majestic bass-driven splendour of Venus As A Boy. And The Go! Team were the best surprise act of the weekend, bringing the opening Friday night to a moshpit-bouncing close.

Seeing as how the festival site was knee-deep in mud by the end of the first day, it was a good feeling to be staying in a caravan with a shower, cooker and real beds. I must be getting old, but the prospect of standing in the pishing rain all day before walking through a dark Scottish version of the Somme to get to a tent that has collapsed and flooded just doesn't appeal any more....

Anyway, a three-day pear cider bender isn't the ideal preparation for a week-long oil industry conference and exhibition. Offshore Europe is essentially just an excuse for a bunch of very rich companies to get together and give away lots of tat. The Aberdeen Exhibition and Conference Centre this week is awash with free pens, sweets, stress balls and key rings. Hats off to Edda Accommodation for giving away leather attache cases containing USB pen drives and calculators and to Eni for CD wallets - at least their free shite is almost worth keeping.

So, I'm a tad exhausted, which is the reason for the complete lack of postage over the past week. If I'd had any foresight, I'd have handed the keys to the blog to someone else for a week to keep y'all amused - but I don't, so I didn't.

Oh, and Tuesday marked the first anniversary of this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb. I'm still surprised that anyone bothers to stop here at all, but for those who do - thank you. Please come again. (And have a nice day.)