[the ‘d’ on the keyboard is dodgy this time. Please excuse typos]
A day after the last blog about Eltham, a news item appeared on the local news which illustrated why the presence of the Eltham Grill, Booers and a nice church wouldn’t be enough encouragement for me to move back there. At 5pm a woman, walking along Court Road, was repeatedly stabbed in the face with an 18 inch screwdriver, weilded by a bloke she didn’t know, who had just leapt out of a car. Amazingly she was fine and managed to grapple the screwdriver out of his hands. Eltham means “place of swans”.

One problem with the Atkins diet that is neither mentionned on the website or in the book is that it can seriously limit the number of sandwich reviews you can write. So, dear reader, I’d like to urge you to consider reviewing a sandwich or two. The next time you buy a sandwich, no matter how pedestrian the filling, keep the sticky label that has the name, price and title on it, so when you are near a computer you can run off a quick review. It really doesn’t take long, and it could save a life. I’m sure.

This week has gone past extremely quickly for me. I don’t know whether it’s down to endorphins released by the high-fat diet, the lack of alcohol or being really busy but it was quite an enjoyable week. One thing, now I’m thinking about it, is that I managed to solve a long running, diabolical problem with an LDAP server that was causing lack of sleep on my part, terror on the part of a colleage, and self-righteous anger on the part of several hundred students. This little success shone a much brighter light on the working week.

Still no letter from Satan’s lawyers. Hmm.

Thank GOD I don’t live in Texas. One of Channel 4’s new freakshows is all about Texas and the supposedly mad things that go on there. You can forget the actual subject matter of each show, just look at the scenery and the “normal” people there. They all look the same sarge; big blokes in shorts and baseball caps or big women in ugly dresses. They go on about God all the time in the most surreal, nonsensical way and then lock themselves in their houses where they can spend the rest of their evening spamming loads of Internet news groups and bulletin boards with how great it is to be free and to have found Jesus.
There was one about Texan muslims. Mad as arseholes of course but not as mad as the majority of the others who claim to be Christian. One voice over accidentally summed up the whole of the American way of life describing a born again Muslim:
“…she changed her name to Jasmin and swapped her business suit for muslims clothes.”
Beautiful. Switching one religious belief (capitalism, family, christianity) for another. A different uniform, a different lexicon, but still just another religion. Another attempt to find the answers to life by following people who claim to know.

Tonight the news is full of people wringing their hands at how dangerous the Internet is and how the new “3G” revolution is going to make it easier for paedophiles.
Chat rooms – BURN THEM!
Web cams – BURN BURN BURN!
Anarchist sites – BURN THE WITCHES!
Mobile phones – BURN!
The Internet – BURN!
You’ll never stop evil thoughs while these vile things exist. Take a leaf out of Iran’s book – restrict all access to the Internet except for good, wholesome sites that preach the correct things. And it’s not just the Internet either. Another, even bigger, threat is already with us, right under our noses. Books. Books can be used by terrorists, paedophiles, communists, anarchists and vegetarians to propagate evil thoughts. Unlike the Internet they need no power and their storage doesn’t degrade for thousands of years. It’s time to take action against this scurge: Burn your books and your neightbours books. Burn all bookshops and libraries. After this we need to remove the evil words from our language and form a new, clean, pure language that doesn’t allow people to articulate these vile concepts, until they can no longer exist even as thoughts. Only then will we be truly free.

Microsoft’s lawyers have been trying to get in touch with me. It seems they think my fuckhotmail.com site is an infringement on their trademark. Poor little sods. Either they haven’t realised it is simply a satirical work of art and not commercial in any way, or they are unaware of an interesting legal precident. Either way I’m chuffed to bits. Pissing off Microsoft with something so trivial turns me on you know. I had a long chat with their lawyer today, hell I’m not paying him after all, and it seems they have been trying to send me a “cease and desist” letter for the last month. And they failed. I mean I know our postal system isn’t what it was, but still…Firstly they sent a courier round who attempted to deliver the letter to “Reverend Victor Edgehead”. Someone in the house, the downstairs neighbours probably, told them, quite rightly, that no-one of that name lives here. It’s a joke name you see (although I am genuinely a minister of the Universal Life Church) However, they quickly deduced my real name and address – something that should take a brain-damaged monkey less than a minute do achieve, and still failed to get in touch with me. In a pathetic attempt to get my attention, they decided to try and attack me via my work, a typically sneaky, underhanded, impotent Micrsoft maneuver. If they had really wanted to get in touch they could have tried calling my workplace, or even sent me a letter by post…but no.
Anyway – they’re going to try and send me the letter by post now…if they can sus out how to stick the envelope down and work the postbox. I’m looking forward to receiving it as I’m sure it will look great in a frame.

What irritates me about this sort of thing is the blatant, shameless hypocrisy. Why the fuck should Microsoft, one of the richest companies in the world, give a toss about my rinky-dinky little protest site ?
Not only that, but why should the law be in a position to help them ? Despite living in a supposedly free society we can’t actually alter the law. All we can do is choose which self-interested, lying bastard we want to represent us in government and hope they do us a favour. Ultimately, money wins in all things. Money makes and breaks laws all the time

Justice is open to everyone in the same way as the Ritz Hotel.
– Judge Sturgess

“If freedom is outlawed, then only outlaws will be free”
– A.N.Other

Even though it’s only January 4th, I’d like to make a nomination for Freudian slip of the year: Tony Blair, during his cringeworthy speech of lies to 600 of the 10,000 British troops in Iraq, said:
“[the evil baddies] are developing weapons that can cause distraction…destruction on a massive scale”.

Perhaps the Hutton report was playing on his mind? he also said:
“no democratic regime would spend billions of pounds on chemical and biological weapons when its own people were suffering”

Well, according to this report from the New Policy Institute, many people in the UK (a country that over the years has spent billions on developing chemical and nuclear weapons) are suffering from extreme poverty and are more likely to suffer from serious Health related problems. Does that mean Mr Blair no longer regards the UK as a democratic regime ?
Tone, our reprasentative, also told the incredulous troops that not a single person back home did not feel proud of the work they were doing. Well, there’s at least one Tone; me. These poor sods have been sent to fight on the basis of lies, and on behalf of the worlds richest men. They haven’t seen their families for months and have no idea when they might return. I’m surprised none of them took a pot-shot at our glorious leader.

Well, back to work tomorrow and the dread is now in full flow. The new year celebrations were pretty enjoyable for my part – Tony and Zap came round and we wandered to the offy, got 6 cans of wifebeater each and took them up to Alex’s where we drank them. Alex also cracked open the champers and single malt! At about 11:30 we left; Alex was meeting up with his partner and we went over to Toby’s place where he, Petra, Mark, Steffi and her sister were having a quiet night in. Unfortunately the Stella, champagne and whiskey we had imbibed prevented us from maintaining the quiet atmosphere. Loads of choccies, pizza and Mark had brought along a 20 quid firework which was ignighted at midnight. It went bang, very loudly, and fired these coloured balls of light into the air….for about 20 minutes. There was an air of danger in that it looked a lot like it was going to go wrong and start firing at us. This kept us awake. I’ve got a few photos, but they were all taken at about 3 am when everyone was falling asleep and so aren’t very exciting.

New year’s day was spent doing more vegging with Tony – a common, but very enjoyable theme of this holiday. In the afternoon we went down to Lewisham and had a pint each in the Watch House, the White Horse and, after a long walk, the Dacre Arms. I’d arranged to go over for dinner at my parents and so had to shoot off.

One of the ideas I’d had about the New Year, in embryo, was to do the Atkins Diet. Please don’t groan, shake your head or give a derisory laugh unless you’ve either read the book or looked at the website because you almost certainly have the wrong idea about what goes on. The most interesting part of the deal, from my point of view, is that the induction bans drinking. So I haven’t had a drink for a couple of days now and will try to hold out for a fortnight at least. That alone should help me in more ways than one. The ultimate test of will power was last night, saturday night, when I turned down two invitations to the pub. Not bad eh ? Another good thing is that I appear to be eating more healthily than I did before. Funny old world.

With only hours to go before reaching a very familiar point on the cycle of life it should be a time for thoughtful reflection on the past year. But I’m buggered if I’m going to bring myself down in such a predictable way. Instead, a shallow thoughtless reflection on the past 48 hours.
After vegging around with Tony and Humph for a day or so, Tony and I went up to Camden and met Andy. We went for some sushi and Tony wanted to eat some “weird” food. It’s been a while since I had sushi and afterwards I remembered why. Delicious food certainly; in harmonious, beautiful, artistic, tiny quantities that cost a shocking amount of money. But you’re also paying for the smug feeling of wellbeing and sophistication that swells in your stomach afterwards I spose. After this we had a pint in “the black cap” and flicked through QX which is a good way to make even the most well endowed heterosexual man feel inadequate…. I also remembered that I was in loco parentis to a ball of feather so went back home and watched BBC2’s selection of late night excellent comedy programmes.

The next day started of very productively – cleaned out the bird, did some washing up, washed a load of clothes etc etc etc. After such a lot of worthy productivity I went out with Mod and Ian to the Tate Modern. I’ve always wanted to go but never got round to it. If you’ve neever been, then go! No, just go! Go! OK there are plenty of opportunities for thinking things like “this is simply shit”, “a five year old could do better than that”,” this guy’s taking the piss” and “I don’t know about art but I know bollocks when I see it”, but you’ll also find things that really do make you stop and stare. Some of the stuff there is truly disturbing and even awe inspiring. Mod deliberately took us through the entrance in the “turbine room” where there is currently an installation called the weather project. This is what it looks like as you walk in. The room is indescribably large and there’s a layer of mist floating half way up. The entire ceiling is mirrored make the place look even more voluminous. Th e only light comes from the huge half sun at the end of the hall which, as a result of the mirrors, looks like an upside down sunset shimmering. It really made me short of breath. The scene was like something out of close-encounters with an army of open-mouthed people and childrens slowly walking towards the sun like possessed zombies. As you get deeper into the room people are sitting and lying down – a most bizarre sight, like a surreal silent festival. But when you lie down and see yourself hundreds of feet in the air, looking down from the mirror at all feels a little strange. There’s a shot of Whisky to for the person who find me in either of those pictures.

After about half an hour of lying on the cold floor waving at a reflection 100s of feet away we had a look at a few exhibits and tried to say “that’s the perfect space for an installation like this” about everything we saw and eventually wanderd off spending the rest of the afternoon/evening in the pub. Mod and Ian truly regretted persuading me to stay until the end because I launched into a series of rants….sorry guys.

Like all of the christmas festivities this year, christmas itself was quiet and a little down. OK it could just be perception but there are some objectively crappy things that are probably more likely culprits:

• My dad has Shingles and spent christmas in quite a bit of pain
• There were only four of us – mainly due to my dad having shingles
• The week before Christmas I had an argument with my sister – she got the right hump and I think she’s avoiding talking to me
• Work has begun to intrude into my personal life yet again….forcing those scary long-term existential thoughts into my head
• Batly has flown off to the States for 10 days. This blighted the last couple of days because I was thinking about it.
• Denzil – the server on which my sites are hosted – crashed on saturday night, and that means it didn’t come back up until this morning 🙁

As Tony has pointed out, these are not really anything serious to worry about, but nonetheless they’ve taken their toll on my mood. So, I’ve been down, miserable and moody which has been rubbing off on other people and feeding back into a spiraling vortex of greyness.

So, in an attempt to sort out my mood, I’ll list some good things about this Christmas:

• Michele got me some excellent presents: A book of card tricks, a book called 50 things you’re not supposed to know, and Schotts Original Miscillany. All great toilet books
• Nice Christmas day dinner and my mum and dad seemed to like their presents
• Good Christmas telly – we were both overjoyed to see Dawn finally come to her senses and also see David Brent tell Finchy to Fuck Off. Also BBC4. This channel is so righteous – not only did they show the entire “house of cards” on christmas eve (all 3 and half hours of which I sat through) but they also decided to repeat “a very peculair practice”, which really cheered me up. Despite being 15 years old, it is still as accurate about higher education establishments as it was then. BBC3 also showed the entire second series of Monkey Dust in one go too! Well worth a digibox
• I got to see Tony and hopefully various other people that I don’t get to see often enough
• Got to spend a couple of days doing nothing but veg about
• Had some nice Wallies
• I’ve still got a week off work
• Dave H gave me his half finished PIC programmer kit – that should prove quite fun

There, that’ll do for now – I feel better already.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Ironing is a pointless, time-consuming and soul destroying experience. For god’s sake people stop wasting your lives and refuse to wear clothes that need it. Cotton t-shirts and jeans do not need this bloody stupid attention and you’ll all get used to the world without shirts, ties and trousers. It’s the only way forward.

Anyway – suited and booted (a pair of black, suede shoes I bought with Adrian when I was about 16) I walked to Brockley with Michele where Nicola was getting married. Nicola looked great; a lovely, if impractical, dress and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen her wear. I don’t really dig weddings, especially Christian ones, but she looked so happy as she was reading her vows that I was welling up…really. Luckily it wasn’t a Catholic ceremony so it was over pretty quickly and one of the hymns was Jerusalem so I even joined in – aided by a small hip-flask of Famous grouse.

The reception was in New Eltham in a restaurant called the Acropolis. New Eltham is a fair distance from Brockley, but nowhere near as far as the coach journey from the Church took us. The driver took us on the most insane, surreal, route, managing to take in all 10 of the top 10 most congested roads in south east London on the way. It took so long, one of the people at the back of the coach was heard asking if the restaurant was in Birmingham.

Once we got to the restaurant things were great. There were lots of people I haven’t seen for years, endless bottles of wine. I like my meat, but there was so much of it that I had to stop….lamb, pork, sausages, meatballs, bacon…oh my god. Michele and I left early – on the basis that it’s better to leave wanting more than less…and also I have to work today….oh and Humphrey needed tending to…A good day tho’. Here are a couple of dodgy pictures from the day.

Still not christmas, still haven’t finished work. However, today is Nicola’s wedding day and so I’m off work anyway. The dread of the impending suit is upon me and eased only by the thought that the reception is in a really excellent Greek Taverna in New Eltham.

Yesterday I met up with Brodie, wee John, Millwall Paul, Steve the Copper and a bloke called Bill to whom Steve referred as “Kaiser”. Even though much of the day involved watching football – something I’m really not into, it was an excellent afternoon. Firstly it was my first visit to the Forest Hill Wetherspoon’s. This place is incredible. It’s a pub converted from a massive victorian cinema. The adjective “massive” really doesn’t accurately convey the true massiveness of massivity of this place. You could comfortably land a jet there. Weirdly, not only is it BIG but it was packed -so it didn’t seem like it was huge and empty. Admittedly most of the customers were there because you can buy 6 pints for less than a tenner and eat a resonable meal for a fiver, but hey – it was a good atmosphere.

Later, Mod came round ours so I staggered home and we ordered Pizza. For some reason I was very weary by this time, and so Michele and I ended up going to bed at about half eight. Oh well – time to get in the bath.