Archive for March, 2009

Fireworks thrown at PSNI by fans

March 28th, 2009

Fireworks thrown at PSNI by fans

Fans of the PSNI clearly failing miserably in their attempts to show their appreciation.

G20 protesters face police with Tasers

March 28th, 2009

G20 protesters face police with Tasers

How the hell did the G20 protesters get their hands on Tasers?

A very short story

March 26th, 2009

I took her hands in mine.
“I love you,” I whispered, “Marry me.”
She turned away, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed.
“I cannot. I am married to Jesus the carpenter.”
I was confused, hurt.
“You’re a nun?”

At that moment the door burst open and a swarthy man with rough hands and a tool box strode in.
“So, I catch jew at de last!” he cried in almost perfect but heavily accented English, “Jew tink jew can make of me de… how jew say… de cuckold?”
He dropped the toolbox on the floor and in the same instant I felt his solid fist connect with my jaw.

I left Madrid that night, never to return.

GM dog

March 24th, 2009

I’ve just seen a dog that was clearly a cross between a Corgi and a German Shepherd.

I imagine that among his German Shepherd relations he is looked down on, but among the Corgis he is a GOD!

Why didn’t we think of it sooner?

March 21st, 2009

So it seems that all Ireland needed in order to win the Grand Slam was for the country nearly to go bankrupt.

Why didn’t we think of it sooner?

New domain needed

March 18th, 2009

I’ve been thinking about all the websites that exist to sell us products that don’t exist and the thousands of unfortunates in western Africa who need our help in recovering their thousands of dollars from bank accounts around the world.

Would it not be easier for all of those websites to be gathered together under a single domain so the terminally gullible would know where to find them?

What would that domain be?

.CON of course.

Drop the tennis racquet and put your hands above your head

March 11th, 2009

I am pleased to see the European Court of Justice bringing a little sanity to the security rules being applied to the airline industry.

You can read a BBC article here about an Austrian tennis player who was thrown off a flight in 2005 for not surrendering his racquets, which airline staff had deemed to be potential terrorist weapons. It seems European Commission had a secret list of objects which could be banned from flights. The ECJ has now deemed the list unenforceable precisely because the public has no access to it.

What caught my eye in that article was that airline staff had not simply deemed the racquets to be potential weapons, which most objects are when you think about it, but potential terrorist weapons.

Tennisist Rafael Nadal surrenders to police after wielding a tennisist racquet in public for several hours.

Tennisist Rafael Nadal surrenders to police after wielding a tennisist racquet in public for several hours.

Now I hate jobsworths even when I am at my most genial, but I reserve a special place in the pit of perpetual arse-kicking for the jobsworth who throws in the adjective “terrorist” just to give a pathetic argument some semblence of meaning. No more so than in airports, where once they have divested you of all pointy, sharp-edged, flammable items (and t-shirts), proceed to make their profits in the departures area  and on board the aircraft themselves by selling you fountain pens, lighters and glass bottles full of alcohol.

Actually, I’m off to the airport today. I wonder what they would say if I tried to bring an empty glass bottle through security.

Ya creo que lo entiendo

March 9th, 2009

Bueno, resulta que me encontraba en un bar local, disfrutando de una caña con amigos, cuando salió en la tele algo que se llama “fu-bol”. En los estates se llama “soker”.

Cuando vi a los jugadores en el campo, pensé al principio que debía ser vergonzoso (después de gastar tanto dinero en ropa) ver como otros diez jugadores habían decidido ponerse el mismo conjunto. Pero uno de mis amigos me explicó que los jugadores se organizaban por equipos. Entonces, me di cuenta de que llevaban los nombres de los equipos en las camisetas, supongo para saber quien jugaba con que equipo. El equipo de las rayas se llamaba “KIA”, y el de las camisetas blancas se llamaba “bwin”.

Bien, había cinco equipos en total, aunque creo que algunos jugadores se perdieron en el camino. El equipo de las camisas amarillas solo tenía un jugador, aunque vino con dos animadores. Pasaron todo el partido corriendo para arriba y para abajo , agitando banderas para animarle. Pero no le sirvó para nada. Ni siquiera tocó la pelota durante todo el partido. Francamente, me parecía más interesado en ligar con los demas jugadores (¿Me explico?), porque intentaba repartir su tarjeta de visita amarilla y fluorescente. Creo que tuvo suerte un par de veces, porque estoy casi seguro de que le vi apuntado teléfonos.

Los equipos cuatro y cinco también enviaron sólo un jugador, pero debieron de haber llegado temprano, porque habían tomado posesión de las dos áreas que creo que se llaman las “puterías”.

Bueno, entendí que las reglas permitan a los jugadores a veces a chutar a las “puterías”, pero el noventa por cien del tiempo es obligatorio chutar o a un lado o el otro. La gente en el bar se emocionaba mucho cuando un jugador chutaba a un lado de la “putería”, lo cual me dice que eso se considera el mejor juego.

También me di cuenta de que (en el momento apropiado cuando esta permitido chutar directamente a la “putería”) si marcan, no cuenta en seguida. Para comprobar que el jugador lo hizo a propósito, tiene que hacerlo tres veces más exactamente igual, pero mucho más lentamente – supongo que para que los jueces pueden decidir si lo han hecho bien o no. Lo que no entiendo es por qué el “putero” no aprende de sus errores y coge la pelota después de la primera vez.

Otra cosa de la que me di cuenta, fue que la mayoría de los jugadores debían de haber sido actores de teatro, por la manera dramática en que entretenían al público cada vez que se caían al suelo.

Bueno, pensé que habían terminado cuando todos se marcharon del campo después de cuarenta y cinco minutos, pero volvieron poco después, probablemente porque alguien del público había pedido un bis. Mientras estuvieron fuera del escenario, los jugadores debieron de intercambiar las camisetas porque los que jugaban de la izquierda a la derecha antes llevaban las camisetas de rayas, pero ahora llevaban las camisetas blancas.

Luego, alguien chutó a la “putería” y tuvo que repetirlo tres veces muy lentamente.

Al final del bis, los jugadores se quitaron las camisetas para comparar tatuajes. Creo que ganó el equipo con los mejores tatuajes.

Fu-bol. Resulta que es bastante fácil de entender.

Sin embargo, no resulta más interesante por entenderlo.

I think I get it now

March 8th, 2009

So there I was sitting in my local bar, enjoying a beer with friends, when the TV screen started showing what I believe is called “foot-ball”. In America it is called “socker”.

My first thought upon seeing the players upon the field was how embarrassing it must have been for them to spend all that money on their clothes only to find ten other people had decided to wear exactly the same outfit. But then one of my friends explained that the players were organised into teams. Then I noticed that they had the team names written on the front of their shirts, presumably so they knew who was on which team. The team in the stripey shirts was called “KIA” and the team in the white shirts was called “bwin”.

So there were five teams in all, although I think some of the players got lost on the way. The team in yellow only fielded one player in the end, although he had brought two cheer leaders with him. They spent the whole match running up and down the sides of the pitch, waving their flags to spur him on. Not that it did him much good. I don’t think he touched the ball once during the whole match. Frankly, he seemed far more interested in hooking up with the other players (if you know what I mean), as he kept trying to hand out his flourescent yellow business card. I think he may have got lucky a couple of times because I’m pretty certain I saw him writing down some phone numbers.

Teams four and five also only fielded one player each, but they must have got there early because they had claimed the two areas that I believe are called “golds”.

Anyway, from what I gather, sometimes the players are allowed to shoot the ball at the “golds” but ninety percent of the time, they have to shoot to one side of the “gold” or the other. The crowd in the bar seemed to get very excited whenever a player shot the ball to either side of the “gold”, so I reckon that is considered the best type of play.

I also figured out that, at the allotted moment when they are allowed to shoot directly at the “gold”, if they do get the ball into the net, it doesn’t count straight away. In order to prove that they didn’t do it accidentally, they have to do it three more times in exactly the same way, only much more slowly – presumably so that the judges can decide whether or not they are doing it right. What I don’t understand is how the “gold-creeper” doesn’t learn from his mistakes and stop the ball after the first time.

Another thing I noticed is that the players mostly seem to be from the theatrical profession, judging by the dramatic way they entertained the audience whenever they fell to the ground.

Anyway, I thought the game was over when everyone left the field after forty-five minutes but they came back again after a short while, probably because someone in the audience shouted “Encore!”. While they were offstage, they must have swapped shirts, because earlier, the team playing left-to-right was wearing the stripey shirts but now they were wearing the white shirts.

Again there was another shot at the “gold” and, again, the player had to repeat his effort three times very slowly.

At the end of the encore, they players took their shirts off and compared tatoos. I think the team with the best tatoos won.

Foot-ball. It quite simple really when you think about it.

Strangely, though, it’s no more interesting now that I understand what it’s all about.